Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "This was not the life she signed up for"

She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
I don't remember what life was like when I was seven. I like the taste of air. What should I do?
She didn't write like Emily Dickinson, but she did live in a house overlooking a cemetery, and I guess he thought that was important.
She was never mine. I always shared her.
If all you picked up tonight was this node title, it's time you went to a Brit nodermeet
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
The House on the Island Where She Was Born
Every Tuesday, I dress as a 46-year old woman and waitress at a diner on route 27. This is the meaning of life.
There's a sign on the wall. But she wants to be sure. Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
In a quiet grove of pines under a frosty sky, he helped her out of the sack. She wore severe white hospital pajamas and was beautiful.
She was steady
I tried to arrange my life in paragraphs, unaware that I was a haiku
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
The glass is half full when it comes to your life up until this point. The glass is half empty when it comes to everything you've missed out on.
and when you woke up, your goldfish bowl was empty?
I was thinking I could clean up for Christmas
Besides the part where she was the only one
I woke up and was an instant scribbling fiend. crazy, my poor feverish brain
Sally Jessy, man, that shit'll fuck you up for life
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
she may hold life
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
When she was bad
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
She has given up on shoes completely.
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
She was cilantro, jalapeño, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
Searching for signs of life in the bottom of a cup of cold coffee
You knew I was a rattlesnake when you picked me up
She hopes I'm cursed forever to sleep on a twin size mattress, never graduating up in size to add a lover.
At that time I was taken up with alchemy
It was something that sand out while burning itself up, at the risk that nothing would be left.
When I woke up this morning, I thought I was a parallelogram. I still have a sneaking suspicion.
He had a prison of brass built in the hole, and then, when it was finished, he locked up his daughter
After all, the Bible says Jesus' first miraculous sign was to make 180 gallons of wine for a party!
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
I was a witch in a past life
they look up at the same night sky, they fill their heart with the same dreams, and they are infused with the breath of life by the same almighty creator
just because it was an accident doesn't mean it'll come back to life
Spice up your life by attending strip clubs
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
She touched my life for a second and made everything peach-scented
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
She cleaned up for me at least.
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
she was waylaid by an octopus
She was coming out as he was going in.
She was free
She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
Where Once Life Was
She didn't know what outside was anymore.
How Candide Was Brought Up in a Magnificent Castle and How He Was Driven Thence
It was late when he came home; it woke you up
I woke up and thought it was Saturday
I accidentally signed you up for Spudge Camp
She was cilantro, jalepeno, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
I set my sister up with her husband, and all I got was this great dress and a trip to Hawaii
It was daylight when you looked up from your ditch
It all burned up in the fire there was nothing left
He was the kind of man who shacked up for shelter
It was something that sang out while burning itself up, at the risk that nothing would be left.
I don't think the sun was up
Somebody told me a story. It was pretty but boring. It was Saturday night, my stories usually end up that way.
It was not death, for I stood up
She Was 18, It Was Summer
There was just the magic I'd brought and laid there over the years, piled up in the corners like twinkling dust bunnies
when i wake up i can't remember what it was. it's so hard to smuggle something out of a dream.
The gun is good. The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life, and poisons the earth with a plague of men, as once it was. But the gun shoots death, and purifies the earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth and kill!
This was the shinest golden dollar I would ever see in my life and I was not about to tarnish it.
There was a man who lived a life of fire
Life, no road signs
Half-forgotten memories that pop up randomly throughout one's life
Signs Of Life
Once upon a time there was light in my life, but now there's only love in the dark
My father's secret life was never meant to be secret
"Describe life in two words" she said. "Survival test" he replied.
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
And then, she expressed frustration with life in general
being set up for a life lived entirely inside the hall of mirrors
She was locked in time
What the hell was she thinking?
When life gives you lemons, just shut up and eat your damn lemons
To a girl who thought she was moving away
She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
when life was kind and we were two young wide-eyed believers
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
born under candlelight just from the edge of a knife, was it a life? or was it a light at all?
This Was Your Life
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
She always was devious in her beauty
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
She wakes me up by tickling my feet
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She makes the sign of the teaspoon, he makes the sign of the wave
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
She is and was
She lights everything up. He glows in the dark.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
Because, perhaps she was cold
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She was too beautiful to be human
She knew what she was doing
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
She was so tall, and I was so in love
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
Dust mop so magic she can not believe how fun it is to clean up after people
The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
Bitches done tore up my IALAC sign
Were you really expecting to only learn true things when you signed up for this class?
she was once a stealthy ghostship in the fog, now she shines wherever she walks
Sign up (superdoc)
Is this what I have been seeking? Or is it an echo, a remnant, a sign that I was wrong?
On three separate occasions, I gave up my life so others could live
life
rules to the game of life
What is the meaning of life?
A Bug's Life
Conway's life
Love life
Homicide: Life on the Street
The Facts of Life
(and it wasn’t in my time nor yet in your time: but a very good time it was for all that)
life cycle
The nine functions of life
Your life's master plan
Life insurance
Life on the Mississippi
Universal Life
rest of your life
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness
Pimp: The Story of My Life
What I want from life
My Life in the Bush of Ghosts
The Psychopathology of Everyday Life
Life on the Border
Three philosophies on life

If you Log in you could create a "This was not the life she signed up for" node. If you don't already have an account, you can register here.