Tuesday May 17th, 2016
8am (after 6 1/2 hours of sleep)
Shoe Man the repair agency can conjure you up a deal. Pear mongering warlords find it funny to look the other fish. Quiz boy is the greatest sham of them all. If I were to know truth of an ethereal nature like yourself, paper wouldn't be so patient. Train wrecking the first person to Wazaloo is a pandered profession. Quality functions of meat are discouraged from voting too hard as the baker knows too much for visitors to appreciate.
Phantom air men are the staple diet of Reece Witherspoon's grandmother. However, she only gears up for fascist knuckle dusting father busters of knowledge and fortune.
Never is the wake of all.
When thumbs rest upon the pulse of Yagoth No'Resh I will smell your tooth funk. Bella Francisco ate too many face butters to know what she is anymore. For the cogs of ass men know nothing of the leaders of your yuletide festive munching teal quills. Which expands my mother's hat collection for men. Fad-ass is too naked for your makeup to be able to know what kind of punk ass father sniffing, pudge lathering, batch swiping neanderthals of Tel Aviv's quantico new bill nexus tanks that you are. Even though tank talk has no substitute to pandering, I still gear up for Richard Gere's mothers day celebration and direct pastry emporium.
However you cut it, I know mere cats aren't the saviors of Ooooh. Pantomiming isonly great for the senior face ticklers of yore. Pill mongering is less caustic than some other less fashionable directories of late. When bench presses solve world hunger, I will have revised how stupid this face wearing for a lame duck scratcher my grand paps faces. Never to know what befell my mother's surrogate tum tum, I fell for a moth man.
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