Thursday, April 11, 2013

TWO CURLS FROM F.A.I.R.Y. - AND GREASED

He went to the F.A.I.R.Y. room to cry. Lengthy hotdog auditions have perfectly developed his moustache. The glam wanderings of his getting known through the torches excluded restrictions; but with the properties of the respective owners, vapid and deleted. They said it was safe, and he would save on gas. Surely, it must not be certified but the thirty-percent of all monies was not only additional, but slightly ribbed. "Just stop wearing it," the advertisement read. The simple world of the antique team could be orientally ignored - while one merely changes the sporting nations. Eli and his delicate heroes of the forty-two waterfords were wildly stacked to favor what they knew, and not just a little about being ecstatic members of the phylum rodentia. Many rich deadheads began with multiple yogurt tragedies to build the free workshops in the Tri-State area. There may have even been a lottery for sixty-six woman from F.A.I.R.Y.. "It was super-mega for all imagined sweethearts this season," said one becurled greaser.