the ooey, gooey, dripping, creamy
the ooey, gooey, dripping, creamy
nightmares, which strike whenever we
are attempting a field goal.
Last night while drinking Blatz
with Johnny Botz
91 -- Buddy Lazier -- Delta Faucet Hemelgarn Racing -- Reynard/Ford
singing "At Last" for the
Frank Capua Dancers, who wore
Old Milwaukee
baseball uniforms that had the
number situated on the very
Have a very blessed day!
bottom of the heel where
the Eternal Finite Penguin lives,
and lets die. Paul
was not guilty of
swimming with the walrus beneath
the yellow submarine. Eleanor Rigby
woke up, got out of
the magical mystery tour and
started a Revolution with a
stick up the back of
a fruit roll-up. Roll
Tide!
I got caught whipping my
cream into the most delicious
stick shift I ever drove,
while doing the Pee Wee
hockey tournament's broadcast using only
a glockenspiel to help singing
reptiles warble their familiar
sibilant lounge lizard stylings, featuring
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