More pictures of a doomed marriage: giant sloths with flapping beef curtains, new predominant mood disorders, a rubber pizza phallus, a pair of patent leather shoes… size 14? Her search for deliverance from a painfully gray and everlasting life will be severely compromised and rendered inert by dead-end logic: if she accepts the offer, she gets to look forward to eons of cucumber cumshots and throbbing kielbasa, but when it comes to plain ol’ religious methodology, there’s about as much of a chance of her denying the most basic urgent biological responses as there is of witnessing the second coming of the Cheeses of Nazareth in front of the fireplace. With a pair of bunny ears, right? Especially during the period when I’m using.
