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    <title>K E L L Y</title>
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    <description><![CDATA[I can't whistle and I never learned to do a cartwheel, but I can make a carnation out of a Kleenex.  I don't read directions or slow down for speedbumps.  I have horrible taste in music and men.  My toenails are always painted (or "polished" as my mom always argues is the correct term.)  I'm still waiting for the day I feel like a real grownup.  My idea of heaven is an endless supply of books and sunshine and a blanket in the grass.  And the sound of my nieces' and nephew's laughter.  And chocolate dipped strawberries.  And never needing to shave my legs again.  You should be wary of taking anything I say seriously.]]></description>
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