The stand up triggers this story about pokin' in where you belong. The fragrant habitat steadies the clandar blips while seamlessly intaking the elegance of today. Cranked open a jeroboam of Perky McRubass without tripping the dripthong. There's a dosimeter moment over there so rechanneling to a good binge surge for the duration is like a hit over the bleacher seats.

Needing to be kneaded is a tipoff that yer flashlight ruins the shadows. It's a blemished version of an homage to the fallopian eternal flame. What's really needed is endothelial enchantment. Fatalistic prescience. All OK in the end.

889 still. Both will be up after the results.