Dear Hairspray,
It would be nice if you did your job and just sprayed my hair instead of going crazy and spraying my hair, my face, the bathroom mirror and counter, the face of whomever walks behind me at inopportune times (probably their own fault though), the back of my neck, and all the nooks and crannies of my ears. Calm down, girl.
Love,
Lynna
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This is just a look into the twisted diary that lives inside my head ranting (sometimes inappropriately) about objects that most likely are undeserving of my rage.
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