Quickly, like there are only minutes to do this. No 25, no thoughts about words. The unimpairment is a hairnet on the shore of Lake Flaccid making wooing more of a snooze alarm. Think not of a phone-in but more like a new take on knockout.

Nitro my face, healer and thank you for the seb advice. Now I can simulate the halcyon haze of the Beau Boudoir days if the nad patrol checks in.

Languishing in cinema isn't exactly the cinnamon toast of active living, nor is it the gotta keep 'em separated of the gapped lapsers.

The projection of living in someone else's head eventually gets you to inanimate objects. The resulting tale is like freddy the falsie, meh. It was getting past the evil/angel pattern that the thinking leaned towards let it go. Now it's let the goodness wash over you.