We asked for crayons. We got forty pounds of battered goodness and a very long and highly incorrigible converse with sweet, sugary Elisha... for the call I don't apologize. I apologize for not sharing the battered wealth. Sandy Hey brought it good at the XXI and beautiful Patti and Bets made good company before Jesse and I got slugger one-sided with the shenanigans. Baby N and Fungus Twat kept it going and I gotta go now cuz I'm waiting on an S.C.
Next time you're faced with a dilemma, order The Lotion. Thank us later. Your liver already did. Shazaam bitches!
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1 comment:
Nothing trumps the gas station chicken. Nothing. Unless, perhaps, there's a happy ending involved.
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