I have just realised that for weeks the only information you had about me is my location and the date of my birthday. 

This worries me greatly. I have said too much.

Or, in the wise words of Ron-fucking-Swanson (regarding birthdays): "I don't like loud noises and people making a fuss. And I especially don't like people celebrating because they know a piece of private information about me. Plus the whole thing is a scam: birthdays were invented by Hallmark to sell cards."

Good night, and good luck.

***
Why do I have fans, though? You do realise that I don't actually DO anything here, don't you? Here I am, sitting on my tomlinsonesque bum and that's it really.

I'm sorry if I don't fan you back but I'm a bit confused and afraid this is a popularity contest of some sort I don't want to participate in. 

Soooo ... if I don't fan you back it's probably because I don't know you/never spoke to you and my Momma told me not to mingle with strangers. Sorry again. Come talk to me.