Where I come from, hoo haws are kept private. At least until that special person comes along.
To this person, not so much. This is like the skank of license plates, showing that shit to anyone who will look. It's not right.
Read Meg's new piece for Refinery29!
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It's just a slideshow of me being a lonely, snarky asshole, but I still
call that journalism when I go home for the holidays.
A (Misanthropic) Look At The ...
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