Whoa! Seven days, man, seven days...
For real, this looks like a still from the set of a Marylin Manson video.
clearly taken at the "bighouse"
marked by the ubiquitous Cold Sides vinyl on the mantel...but "Dude, Where's My Drug Robe?"
daguerreotyped?
I see, a swam of lipid dropplets. "What clang'd me?" wife said, but she's just putrid in peasant ribbons. I saw Dedless droppsy into sea, but you know wax tastes like iron horse. Buttressed with lower rates for cellular use in lands where nymphs cloister, I was dropp'd--waddling, laughing--"hey, my man, I was wondering about the change you left behind..."
Who put Silk Nogg back on the Triaminic?
Oh, Hominy, why the tribulations. Crimpped hair was, but could it be again, when gagging on the starlight of bedazzled old maids, who's Swiffers are locked in a--
OR: ching, ching
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