JJ and his wife leaving their London hotel
I would cut The Dealer off for a chance encounter with Mr. Jackson. I mean, I wouldn't break up completely with him but I would put his ass on the back burner in a New York minute to spend some time with JJ.
Now that's some high quality
sweet action right there.
I bet if you were to bitch slap the side of his neck you could use his sweat as a skin moisturizer. How many people reading this can honestly say that they wouldn't jump at the opportunity to include Jermaine Jackson in their daily grooming ritual, huh? Listen, if you claim otherwise you're not only lying to me but you're lying to yourself. Don't live in denial, join the love train. You don't need a ticket just get on board.
Labels: Casket Sharp
Use don't abuse (ie. adding me to your site's mailing list). And for the love of God please stop sending mp3 files of your music. I am not Clive Davis and to be frank I probably don't want to hear the shit anyway. You should also know that I take my slow, precious time responding to email. And sometimes I don't respond at all. Fresh.firstname.lastname@example.org
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