In High School, there was a mildly repulsive goth troll fellow who had a mad crush on me. He would express his love in typical ways, like writing me gothy love notes, waiting outside my classes for me, and shoving a giant needle from the biology dissection lab through his man-boob and then dramatically revealing the red, throbbing, impaled mound of bologna-nippled flesh to me as I passed him in the hallway. Normal stuff like that. So what I’m saying is, this pincushion reminds me that I’m glad High School ended ten twelve years ago, and also that my boyfriend pretty much fell out of a J. Crew catalog.