blather
sheets_of_corn
tennis star of the 70s History of the universe inscribed on the back of a bag of chips in the language lost even to horseflies and manatees. Hope is only a dim fragment of a tortilla chip lit between the warm glow of jumper cables and cheap pornography as viewed through a pitcher of iced tea and a scrambled connection to the shorther threads of the unconscious llama and its preconceived notions about quantum mechanics.

Alright, now pass me the fuckin' guacamole before we all implode.
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flowerock !!! 131219