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I googled it. It's like tea sammies. That looks good.
You remind me of the babe
What babe?
The babe with the power
What power?
The Power of voodoo
Who do?
You do!
Do what?
Remind me of the babe! Army of Darkness: Guardians of the Chat
Yes. I was a shift manager at Burger King a few years back and got fired because I grabbed (not really grabbed, but pulled him) an employee after asking him several times to refill the ice several times because we were very busy. It pissed me off so bad because even though I look back and I shouldn't have grabbed him, I was boss and I shouldn't have asked him more than twice. I shouldn't have got fired. Made me wanted to burn the place down.
Fruit, usually dried, is my late night snack. I rarely snack late though because I go to bed at 11pm most nights. I used to make crepes with fruit or just honey but it is a lot of work to make enough crepes for just two. They are made one at a time and just melt away in your mouth. I admit they are mostly egg and sugar and I have found myself eating less sweet things in the last few years.
The Dragon sees infinity and those it touches are forced to feel the reality of it.
I am his student and his partner. He is my guide and an ominous friend.
I would, but I don't know how to make Os with lines in them. They ain't 'merican.
Every moment of a life is a horrible tragedy, a slapstick comedy, dark nihilism, golden illumination, or nothing at all; depending on how we write the story we tell ourselves.
I would, but I don't know how to make Os with lines in them. They ain't 'merican.
I've got one in my name. Using 'oe' instead should give the same results.
You remind me of the babe
What babe?
The babe with the power
What power?
The Power of voodoo
Who do?
You do!
Do what?
Remind me of the babe! Army of Darkness: Guardians of the Chat
At my age, losing self control is far trickier to achieve...
Possibly my craving for cuppa joe.
Every moment of a life is a horrible tragedy, a slapstick comedy, dark nihilism, golden illumination, or nothing at all; depending on how we write the story we tell ourselves.
"Turn, and look in the mirror. What do you see?" Her own brown eyes stared back at her until she was nothing but a blur.
"I see you. Red lipstick spread perfectly over your lush mouth, brown eyes that hold centuries upon centuries of secrets. A face made to entice even the most celibate of men and women alike. A red dress that sways and moves with your body, making you a temptation like no other."
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