Thanks to Peter, my old pal from J-List, I've got a stack of insane Japanese magazines. The ads featured in this article come from the same issue of egg, a magazine that seems to be targeted at teenage girls that look like baseball gloves. The magazine instructs them to buy things and teaches them how to give blowjobs to green cartoon penises. Basically like Seventeen here in the United States. The ads featured in this article include a weight loss program with a lot of focus on pooping, some sort of foam you rub into your breasts to enlarge them, a curious take on Judaism, and more.
As long as the food ghost doesn't start haunting my pants.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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