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fourteenth, nov i'm coming closer every day to saying "pound salt in your ass!" this seems to work ok when my dad yells it into the phone when a telemarketer calls. i'm not really sure what it means though. dear sister wendy, i think i should be sainted for pretending like my bloody mass doesn't sting after that evil-she's done blowing me up. after i am put back together again, can i be the protector for the first dog sledding team to trek across our solar system? they will follow my benevolent floating head and know which way to go. |