Dear world,
I'm eating chocolate and picking flakes of dead skin out of my scorched-sunburnt cleavage whilst reading "A confederacy of dunces" and making mental lists of ways in which I may or may not be similar to its main character.
Clearly the world needs to know this.
I'm eating chocolate and picking flakes of dead skin out of my scorched-sunburnt cleavage whilst reading "A confederacy of dunces" and making mental lists of ways in which I may or may not be similar to its main character.
Clearly the world needs to know this.
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I still have rainy man under umbrella, standing on a chair. Like a altar.