There's this man. His name is Andrew Scott. He is delicious, and has a propensity towards touching things.
Unfortunately, those things are not us. Yet.
And my name is Jessica. My hands don't work and I talk about myself, and personal stuff, far too much. I'm basically an intellectually disabled puppy. There's nothing wrong with me.
23 years old, native Northern Virginian.
Rapid cycling bipolar. Extreme extrovert. Loves making mean people uncomfortable and trolling. It is one of my life goals to be able to gleek on demand. I have an unnatural obsession with pink and grey, and an uncanny ability to make people smile. I’m also very funny. And
a little very egotistical.
That is me. This is my face after getting in a “fish fingers and custard” fight with my husband, Chatvert (disclaimer: We aren’t actually married. I am actually single. I don’t actually believe in/want a relationship. But I am accepting applications for cuddle buddies):
This is my face in Centralia, Pennsylvania, with a headless doll:
This is my face in the bathroom:
This is my face with a mustache:
And this is my philosophy towards life:
And I guess that’s it for now.