Of mochas and Mikeys
Well, there we go... I have successfully landed my high school coffee-slinger job once more. (Um. Don't get me wrong though, I'm extremely grateful. Apparently they had nine other applications handed in before mine and they bumped me up to the front of the line because they remembered me. Good grief.)
Unrelated! I showed little sister a picture of the MCR boys and ordered her to tell me who she thought was the most attractive. You know, in the name of science.
Says she: *after careful consideration and oohing noises* "Hmm, this guy."
Says I: "That's Frank! Okay, that's a pretty standard reaction. Most people seem to..."
Says she: "WAIT, THIS GUY. Ooh. Who is that? Is he my age?"
And now I have conclusive proof that Mikey-fancying is a genetic disorder. *solemn nod*
(By the waaay! All the MCR music videos except the very first two can now be found on the band's website, over yonder! Wheee! I fling fangirly good karma their way in return!)
Unrelated! I showed little sister a picture of the MCR boys and ordered her to tell me who she thought was the most attractive. You know, in the name of science.
Says she: *after careful consideration and oohing noises* "Hmm, this guy."
Says I: "That's Frank! Okay, that's a pretty standard reaction. Most people seem to..."
Says she: "WAIT, THIS GUY. Ooh. Who is that? Is he my age?"
And now I have conclusive proof that Mikey-fancying is a genetic disorder. *solemn nod*
(By the waaay! All the MCR music videos except the very first two can now be found on the band's website, over yonder! Wheee! I fling fangirly good karma their way in return!)