Post by Azurine Vebbins on Aug 7, 2022 4:46:50 GMT -5
Our promotional material opens with “Da Vivacious Variable” consuming breakfast on Thursday morning. Later tonight, she’s dancing double at The Velvet Rabbit. Half her night will be performing professional pole fitness on Stage Three. The other half will be hypnotically hip swiveling inside The Hive for Tribal Fusions Night. She confidently coordinates choreography while carrying a bowl at the hookah haven. A certain cereal box sits on a nearby bar as she starts streaming.
Azurine Vebbins: Helpin’ myself to a heapin’ bowl of Honey Vanilla Cheerios. I feel it’s necessary to Martin Mull my monotone mindset for Monday’s merengue wid Alex Marley. He’s definitely akin to bein’ a distant relative of Detective Greenly. Always enjoyed when he’d get sartorially slack-jawed from some-din’ Agent Smecker said. Bode come across as boondoggled saints decommissioned by Da Deity. Hence, I find it irrational how he intimates himself as an irie individual. Den again, dude hails from Woodstock which denotes damnin’ dualism.
My addled adversary projects peaceful protester and pissed-off plenty puncher in equal measure. I will make sure he greets his greedy, grandiose Uncle Jacob once his cranium checks out in Cleveland. B-flat honest, dough, dat macabre meetin’ could commence after dree outcomes: him receivin’ a Pearly Gatekeeper, gazin’ glassy-eyed upward for Global Sleep Under Da Stars Night, or him celebratin’ National CBD Day prematurely. Da first prescription is more potent since I’d administer da dosage. Da second’s a side-effect brought on by starin’ at arena lightin’ inside Rocket Mortgage FieldHouse. Goin’ for grass subconsciously states his sorry sass gets mowed down by moi. Alex would just be naturally numbin’ himself to dat naggin’ notion.
It’s a potential placebo for whatever phantom limb I lop off as we limbo. Currently, my bar’s rad-er low soft shoe-steppin’ back into da Sin’-les circuit. Miss havin’ my dance partner’s hand to hot tag. I’m now participatin’ in prolonged pummel promenades almost alone. While “Da Bad Apple Bottom Gene” properly processes, I know her spirit combined wid your chants make pleasant pills to swallow. Shan’t suffer. Been schedulin’ sparrin’ sessions wid bigger bruties to compensate. “Da Adorkable Angel” seeks solace in Half-Nelson suplexin’ Marley’s sadder sack on Happiness Happens Day. Maybe dat plus I’m cravin’ a second bowl of dis fabulously flavored breakfast cereal?
Azurine reaches for the specially-marked box and pours another healthy helping.
Azurine Vebbins: Dat’s better. Decided to dance here tonight so I can sustain stamina against stench strong, stylized smoke. Mercifully describes Marley’s movements. He’s a less credible choker dan my neck halo. All flash, deadpan, and servin’ chirpless crickets as dose in attendance anti-applause. He whiff strikes me as someone I’d shudder if dey suggested sneakin’ some zucchini into deyr neighbor’s porch. Cary Granted, it’s a humorous way to remember August 8 is National Zucchini Day. Might also be interpreted as an innuendo for a future fondle flick featurin’ my colleagues Chelsea Skye and/or TAURUS. You’d have to rudely rummage da dollar bin for his dreadful D-movie. In preferred practice, however, it’s a harmless produce prank. You’re just placin’ an excess edible at a house next door. Explains why I twice tweeted dis week ‘bout choppin’ da summer squash. I’m fully prepared to dice dat dope and spiral dat sucker.
At CruiserClash, “Da Damsel in Dat Dress” will leave wid da same smile I enter in wid. Happiness happens for dose who harness deyr habit for it. You can bet your top and bottom dollars I’m makin’ Marley miserable on Monday. If you take CBD, I’d advise you can’t be drivin’. Designate a dependent to keep dose big wheels turnin’. Sleep under da stars after streamin’ finishes since odd-er-wise you could miss stunnin’ stellar scenery. Finally, be careful and conscientious if you only remember da last national day discussed. Don’t want anyone gettin’ violent over vegetables.
“Da Hardheaded Housewife” ceases communication by double blinking into her camera lens.
Azurine Vebbins: Helpin’ myself to a heapin’ bowl of Honey Vanilla Cheerios. I feel it’s necessary to Martin Mull my monotone mindset for Monday’s merengue wid Alex Marley. He’s definitely akin to bein’ a distant relative of Detective Greenly. Always enjoyed when he’d get sartorially slack-jawed from some-din’ Agent Smecker said. Bode come across as boondoggled saints decommissioned by Da Deity. Hence, I find it irrational how he intimates himself as an irie individual. Den again, dude hails from Woodstock which denotes damnin’ dualism.
My addled adversary projects peaceful protester and pissed-off plenty puncher in equal measure. I will make sure he greets his greedy, grandiose Uncle Jacob once his cranium checks out in Cleveland. B-flat honest, dough, dat macabre meetin’ could commence after dree outcomes: him receivin’ a Pearly Gatekeeper, gazin’ glassy-eyed upward for Global Sleep Under Da Stars Night, or him celebratin’ National CBD Day prematurely. Da first prescription is more potent since I’d administer da dosage. Da second’s a side-effect brought on by starin’ at arena lightin’ inside Rocket Mortgage FieldHouse. Goin’ for grass subconsciously states his sorry sass gets mowed down by moi. Alex would just be naturally numbin’ himself to dat naggin’ notion.
It’s a potential placebo for whatever phantom limb I lop off as we limbo. Currently, my bar’s rad-er low soft shoe-steppin’ back into da Sin’-les circuit. Miss havin’ my dance partner’s hand to hot tag. I’m now participatin’ in prolonged pummel promenades almost alone. While “Da Bad Apple Bottom Gene” properly processes, I know her spirit combined wid your chants make pleasant pills to swallow. Shan’t suffer. Been schedulin’ sparrin’ sessions wid bigger bruties to compensate. “Da Adorkable Angel” seeks solace in Half-Nelson suplexin’ Marley’s sadder sack on Happiness Happens Day. Maybe dat plus I’m cravin’ a second bowl of dis fabulously flavored breakfast cereal?
Azurine reaches for the specially-marked box and pours another healthy helping.
Azurine Vebbins: Dat’s better. Decided to dance here tonight so I can sustain stamina against stench strong, stylized smoke. Mercifully describes Marley’s movements. He’s a less credible choker dan my neck halo. All flash, deadpan, and servin’ chirpless crickets as dose in attendance anti-applause. He whiff strikes me as someone I’d shudder if dey suggested sneakin’ some zucchini into deyr neighbor’s porch. Cary Granted, it’s a humorous way to remember August 8 is National Zucchini Day. Might also be interpreted as an innuendo for a future fondle flick featurin’ my colleagues Chelsea Skye and/or TAURUS. You’d have to rudely rummage da dollar bin for his dreadful D-movie. In preferred practice, however, it’s a harmless produce prank. You’re just placin’ an excess edible at a house next door. Explains why I twice tweeted dis week ‘bout choppin’ da summer squash. I’m fully prepared to dice dat dope and spiral dat sucker.
At CruiserClash, “Da Damsel in Dat Dress” will leave wid da same smile I enter in wid. Happiness happens for dose who harness deyr habit for it. You can bet your top and bottom dollars I’m makin’ Marley miserable on Monday. If you take CBD, I’d advise you can’t be drivin’. Designate a dependent to keep dose big wheels turnin’. Sleep under da stars after streamin’ finishes since odd-er-wise you could miss stunnin’ stellar scenery. Finally, be careful and conscientious if you only remember da last national day discussed. Don’t want anyone gettin’ violent over vegetables.
“Da Hardheaded Housewife” ceases communication by double blinking into her camera lens.
