Princess Peach is my anti-friend.
"Hey guys, Sam Raimi's guy just emailed me and said he was going to make my fanfic into a movie!!" I know this post right here alone could fill your quota of painfully sad things to read for like an entire month, but please stay with me. We have a ways to go.
I used to dream about Muzzy, that language teaching sasquatch thing, even though I never owned the tapes. "Booooonjooour... je suis... la jeune fille...." We never got it on, though.
Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no
You can't kill what's already dead, just like you can't ask to get fat what's already going swimming with its shirt on.
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.
Were you enjoying your day? STOP! There is outrageous crap going on you need to know about!
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