I'm sick and tired of watching Diana Ross parade around with it looking partly cloudy in her mouth. Seriously, if I were to ever met her I wouldn't know if I should ask for an autograph or the five day forecast. And before you stans strap on your captain save a . . . legend boots, kill yourself. There is no excuse. I love my mother-in-law but there is only so much I can take.
Wait a minute . . . is she about to fall out of her dress? HEAVENS TO CHUDNEY!
Labels: Why Must I Cry?
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.email@example.com
LEAVE SOME $$$ ON THE NIGHT STAND
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