You don't have to buy a frame!

Good News!: There was a guy who looked like a slightly smaller-lipped Tom Hardy on the T on my way home from class.
Bad News!: He was a total jackass super-blonde prepster who littered and was using the bars you hold on to during rush hour as monkey bars. Why did you have to be a tool, Not-Tom-Hardy? You had all that potential, and you wasted it. Or maybe you were just wasted.

SIGH.

Anyway! People asked for pictures, so! Pictures! I may or may not have spent the entire time I was resizing and posting these with this as my soundtrack.

What do you mean, it's not cool to have this in your top five movies of all time? It's kind of the greatest ever.

( Home, gerbil, and mostly my clothes. )

Edit: I make no bones about the fact that, as utterly stupid as I think it is, I read mean_merlin. I've found I like to be abreast (that word will never not make me giggle because I'm twelve) of what direction the crazy is taken, especially since they decided I was Kind Of A Big Deal. (This still cracks me up. Only on the internet would I ever be "a big deal". I have many leatherbound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany!) Anyway, every night, a few hours before I go to bed (enough time for crazy to happen, not too close to bedtime that if something makes me irritated I'll be up half the night huffing over it) I read what the cool haps are in Crazyville, and then I sigh over the educational system, and then I feel the need to send everyone Emily Post books. Me. Feeling that need. Me. The girl who says "nice one" after someone farts and then rates it out of ten like it's an Olympic event. Oh, internet. I love you, but you crazy.

Anyhoo, I went today and what should I find but a nice super-long discussion on the mean meme about my sex life. Now, granted, 50% of it was a) about STDs and b) so laughable I had to stuff my knuckles in my mouth not to wake people while I read it. But still, you dislike me! You really dislike me! (And thank you, anon, I agree, Colin and I would make an adorable couple. We could have socially awkward, reclusive babies with giant blue eyes who prefer books to people. It'd be great. If only I could shake that nagging feeling he was gay. Also, the Atlantic Ocean would have to dry up, but these are only minor details in the course of true love, of course.)

Now, I've learned my lesson and I never respond directly to stuff on the mean meme unless it in some way, I feel, will effect my job or is toeing the line of harassment, so I know better than to answer questions there and in great detail, in spite of my nagging urge to do so. Instead, I will say this, and this is my final word on the state of my vagina. Because, apparently, this is worth like (at least) forty odd comments and wasting a night discussing, and while I have no delusions that me actually stating the facts of the matter will do anything, let's pretend it will. It'll at least make me feel better about the whole thing.

Hello, members of the mean meme. What's up? My name is Julia, I'm almost 22, and I'm a virgin. I don't particularly care about other people's states of virginity, and I fully encourage people to have sex as much and as often as they want, so long as I am not forced to watch it. Yes, I have had people who have expressed interest in going out with/having sex with me, but generally they were either complete jackholes, not familiar with the concept of personal hygiene, guys who liked to harass me into incoherent anger as a form of flirtation (which, shockingly, I don't find turns me on), or glue sniffers. My most ardent paramour in high school was a combination of all of the above. He was special. Considering this, I feel my personal decision to preserve the state of my hymen to be a generally wise one. Thank you for your time and interest in my lady bits. Have a nice day.

P.S. As for the sub-thread on if I masturbate or not - ew. Guys, I'm aware you specialize in no boundaries, and I specialize in no boundaries, but I'm calling boundaries on this one. Whether I do or do not do the do on my doo-dad is nobody's business. In fact, it's skeevy.

I repeat, ew.