Oh my god, I still love that song, I'm so tragic, I still dance like that, even more tragic! Mayonnaise on your chops, nothing compared to what I've seen, crappy little cafe in London, Spag Bol, toilet, vomit, said spaghetti, cascading from nose, don't need phone image, burned into pysche forever. R.
Oh my god, I still love that song, I'm so tragic, I still dance like that, even more tragic!
ReplyDeleteMayonnaise on your chops, nothing compared to what I've seen, crappy little cafe in London, Spag Bol, toilet, vomit, said spaghetti, cascading from nose, don't need phone image, burned into pysche forever. R.
Heh. Producing foodstuffs out of my nose is my finely honed party trick I'll have you know.
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