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I think I've reached the point in life where I realize that french fries are overrated.
k=b/2 : Knowing = Battle/2
"Don't bust my chops."... It's not a bad expression.
We're gonna remember this time in our lives as the period where we drank vanilla coke.
I really like guacamole. I mean REALLY.
The movie "Dirty Dancing" is really this elaborate hallucination from the point of view of Baby, who is a schizophrenic. The holiday camp is actually an insane asylum. Patrick Swayze does not exist, but is merely a construct of her subconscious.
I wish I lived on the death star. Yes, yes. I know my life there would be doomed. What with the inevitable arrival of the little rebel starfighters and their proton torpedos... but it'd be worth it... up to that point, I mean.
If I go to sleep and Freddy Krueger chases me through the dream world... I have decided I am going to stop, turn around, introduce myself, and shake his hand. "Would you mind accompanying me to a matinee?" I will ask amicably. Because quite frankly he no longer scares me. I have seen creepy life-like dolls from Switzerland and now nothing in this world can measure up. What once was nightmare equals picnic.
I hear that Kangaroo Jack stars you and is good.
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