I reckon 132 weeks must be some magic age.
I am getting awfully smart.
At any rate, I hardly ever stop talking, and I think that amounts to the
same thing, right?
Dear Diary,
I reckon 132 weeks must be some magic age.
I am getting awfully smart.
At any rate, I hardly ever stop talking, and I think that amounts to the
same thing, right?
Guys still keep wanting to pick me up, too. It's very flattering. Here's a photo of me being picked up by Dan.
It gets a bit ordinary after a while.
Mum bought me a Barbie... she told Dad she wanted the
novelty to wear off. She must have been talking about this being
picked up stuff, I reckon.
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