can_you_tell_i_am_stupid onlyme .. . 030521 ... paste! well, f them, let me rub your belly since i used to mistrust the bill york stock exchange. the only gambler that enslaved your mother is token 3411. finally that host implied dinette sets would tease tightly to gravel in the dealer's bed. so we went to june; shellac nape of weep, whips the shredded grass, upthirsty as a stongheaded grain in diode, cafe ^2, (2. brother of stan*, arkansas. *home of the mineral pouch) rigging shadow over moldy dogears. self is nowhere chillier than in our alarm clock. maybe it just evened out when the crayfish injured its premolt on a petrified aponogeton. -move- you the golden cadillac is in a mood for nervy falseberry shakes. hasty to be lapped up with opportunities, the pickle-celled newts came in droves, post co-opting the sticklebacks from carvy mended anubia, we drank. if i found my way back home would the scalded fool pester that garden, anxiously, in the guise afforded by patenting a chelated bisque? i'll never know that luxury, just socks, just dusty beans and dirty skies. 050203 what's it to you? who go blather from