Cranial Rick-Rackdilute prenatal quail f(x)
Rotation of calibrated mince treacle leads to open tabouli men. And those open tabouli men cannot be trusted, dusted, rusted, encrusted or busted. It's not a pine fallow matter of blimp trinkets, but a stalwart plasma goat that cries "pear!" It's been that way for some time, hasn't it, cohomology Supreme, run for the Pez meandering stoa stupa stoma. Or not. Liszt is kinda ... well, kinda taut in the way staunch constellations maugre epaulettes & bratwurst Medici firefly buttocks. If I ever x-ray Empedocles' terraced strap, or his mephitic cup, I'll be sure to adduce the Regge Poles of your pilastered, mustard, mud-starred, and castered pea-meters.
disgust + pancake = tipperary
Water waffle beans mean that tire anthers lick patois of Ostrogoth laminates. Or at least dik-dik pirouettes bleed savoir faire from the otiose chert ampules and knee cochineal breeder follies, nine theodolite stiffenings, map packet proton pie gewgaws, nail bee Tosca minority apple blastoid nitid seders, core tee onions, noses, and wampum potions. Ask!
Creeping halogen strives for naugahyde material gainful crap. I, foreskin, spoon empathic near-death missile fissile Roentgen wieners over thoracic vitamin 'cirrhosis' toolboxes. Peanut? Why bother! It's plain to forecast that annular beansprouts, Taurids and oolitic paeans to witch hazel spirit us pfeffernuss to blind orthogonal meat ziggurats. Ply a sere tampon of Space Food Stix behind ronchi Ainu maleficent bixies.
medicine for the south dakota porch control board
Even if surveillance is Dad's wand past alkali desktop, the fact remains that mint 'Necco' hopes ply quincunx bandage alibis. Tomorrow may never dip treacle over 'Suzy' or buttress down 'To-Bor' plums the way whacked features of a pinto moon 'ho,' but these wheedle past afternoon's tamped vacuole pony, anyway. If I'm not mistaken, 'Pontius' Pete the eager bluefly chunk eats the: way the cameras are pointed at my crotch's soda portobello teapot disaster, under watchful eye fee, pokey narcotic pinochle trope.
You've bloated the hookah AGAIN.
ecstatic prune nodes
2. Lift and separate.
2. Man's tent-ham wrothles o'er the "speert" Mt. Umberg!
2. If Ronald did not exist, we would be compelled to tamp soy Kreskins into the Feen-A-Vat.
2. I cannot trust. Fear soaked my nodule-heavy penis past all tippy-top morguiloptitudinicity! She crop't, and crop't and crop't "down there" and found no street to feed. It's not that sprinkles of my glittery sparkle twinkly fascination star scintilla did not flash blink blink blonkety tweeeeee, but the steak, Caroline, the steak! O, crop again! "Willy Stripfist" the lowly moanin' mainstreet glowworm whangles me down ... again.
2. If Kukla Fran did not exist I would be controlled to pre-soak her.
2. Mighty is Bean-Bean. Right?
2. Mightier is Pone-Pone. I won't tell you who is mightiest, nor will I squonch elder slurdles again. Mightiest is Wum-Wum. Ha!
captain morgan's spiced penis meat
Why? moot hoot stars to steaky private answers, sans serif Polish sausage in fact I dried it off. What? Do thy optimum bank card rates align thy planets' surge protector, ho? What, ho? Sound alarum and put my ears back on the shelf. Hear me now: flux staples tote my "fresh-pikt" nipples to original condition of flying buttress Wamsutta NOW! with more calcium eaten through a face like a hung road cake. What manner of toad is't, sirrah, you wif the meat cone blowing through hair rhomboids, like wind that couldn't steer clear of a wakened friar, and Melmac rots opining torii, Amos? We! there is no at, here; medical gummi boots are all I see under the door-hinge, with a fruit stuck in my hamper craw and a long twizzler for a fractious smile.
staring at the diamond toilet
He's brinking ... moving off toward an emerald constellation ... there's a briquette in the furnace and the dynamo that sang "Al-a-ka-Zam" is back to haunt our sapphirine days and nights ... how long's it been since you cleaned that triumphant doohickey you call love? ... the style of lachrymose beaux is tramping down the canyon of collages, stinky Doily ... harm, hot heights of harm upon the tar corner ... counting the teal traffic lights, they seem brighter, huh ... what's the coffee ring upon your t-shirt's 'flocking' mean? ... my loaf has a fistula inside its prawn wing-nut, surprise, surprise again ... it's bawdy Britney at thy nether washer finned ruckus ... have she or doesn't she lean, lean I tell you, mean sirening outside the kewpie rotoscope ... I am forrard of the foc's'le wif a bollocks of a tourmaline in my palm, looking down at it grinning hee hee like an electrical madman when all of a sudden this pig-thing sweeps up out of the sea, clutches me about the knees and allasudden starts suckling on it ... mail's here, bloodybones ... brocaded winter boots ... pie in the hamper leaps up ... twilight equals the moor glacial till dolmen drumlin talings of the scree tallow ... where am I the leaves out of the pumpkin man in the black trees ... star on my xenon head tip ... trolling for sackcloth, garnet and asses ... ladies ... warm ...