She's not a goth because she listens to Nine Inch Nails. She's not a punk because she had pink hair for a week. Some people think she has some obsession with razor blades and self-destruction. She's quite far from being any of them. She shares her birthday with Van Halen and Nancy Sinatra. When she's got nothing better to do you can find her growing her CD collection, watching late night Rage and blogging. She lives on the wrong side of the Ring Road. She has a collection of burnt matchsticks, postcards and HTML scripts that don't belong to her. She named her left knee Bobo and her right knee Dorito. She wishes that life was one big bowl of Wednesdays because it's her favourite day of the week. Through her 16 or so years of exsitance on this world she has found she likes the taste of fairy bread and mint flavored things. She likes the smell of sex and candy. She likes the sounds of jangly guitars under dreamy vocals. She likes the sight of anything green and lusts after lanky boys with messy hair. And that was Vicky explained on the head of a matchstick, short and sweet...well it made sense to her...