47/265 by timcaynes
I wouldn’t expect to levitate over a teacake but inbound your slide this way and if I untangle the subtabs from the weasel trench I might just be able to blog the 19 minutes you have remaining with a random browse prolapse executing a triple link manifest when I don’t even understand the cross-marketing opportunity of fish and chips.
I don’t even know where you are even though I see you sliding down a mountain with high brow cleft lip tab manifold as the calendar of doom blarts anachronisms at the trenchant featureless blip of orange footwells. lest you imagine there is a point to it and that I’ve just popped over the parapet only to find that my hat was so last year I remember a time where hair was obligatory and feet were under the table but we all had fun partying like it was 1999 which it was then and really it wasn’t. if I may, I’ll go back to the start. the way it is now is all crooked and that spot on my nose doesn’t have an appropriate sample target and it’s all square today even though it wasn’t even yesterday.
you’re not listening are you.