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Le Tigre was amazing and my inherent nazi feminism has been rebirthed into something jumpy, colorful, and vehemently anti-bush.
Things not to do:
Jack and Coffee
Tomato-mushroom-spinach omellettes with ketchup
Love on Moxie when she's thrashing around like a seizure
Be cooped up in a house all day with one specific male whilst feeling slightly snuggly
Allow said male's friends
Because as of the moment I both look and feel like a victim of war.
