Post by Azurine Vebbins on Nov 6, 2022 6:00:48 GMT -5
Azurine Vebbins: Numb ninnyhammer notions, New Orleans! I’m deliverin’ dis distraught diatribe to combat conflict and complacency. At least dat’s my internal interpretation. Earlier today when arrivin’ in Da Big Easy, “Da Adorkable Angel” became annoyed hearin’ an audience-aggregated attack adjective. Accordin’ to da parish pretentious, I’m hardly.
Some claim I’m hardly a housewife. When you dance dree nights in New York plus travel almost anywhere but here…people ponder. B-flat honest, my spouse seems like a silent partner. Apart from her sweet soundin’ surname, da deafenin’ has me driftin’ towards amicable divorce. Could also just be a paucity of proximity? Dat won’t be da case when pummelin’ Vicente Lazaro, dough. I’ll have constant waist control from providin’ several stubborn suplexes.
More question my hardly grasped grapplin’ game. Recent record tracks indicate yours truly cannot catch championship grooves. It’s difficult to chart when competition contemplates causin’ concussion by pumpkin. Blessed protocol results proved I was negative since my head’s harder dan whatever’s left of your Halloween candy. “Da Golden Idolo,” conversely, comes across as a soft sell, hollow donut hole. He has his moments, but you’re left unfulfilled. Deyr’s also da factoid dat pinnin’ him Monday night leads to a meanin’-ful rubber rumba somewhere else.
Den deyr are dose who deny my brave babyface belief. I didn’t praise Phoenix. Roswell resented my campaign rally cry. Bourbon Street balks brilliance not sourced from illuminated lightin’ I recognize Vicente’s flashbulb flair and dose incendiary insights will make fans flip. I must be better at blindin' and toss him back into his token tomb.
Some claim I’m hardly a housewife. When you dance dree nights in New York plus travel almost anywhere but here…people ponder. B-flat honest, my spouse seems like a silent partner. Apart from her sweet soundin’ surname, da deafenin’ has me driftin’ towards amicable divorce. Could also just be a paucity of proximity? Dat won’t be da case when pummelin’ Vicente Lazaro, dough. I’ll have constant waist control from providin’ several stubborn suplexes.
More question my hardly grasped grapplin’ game. Recent record tracks indicate yours truly cannot catch championship grooves. It’s difficult to chart when competition contemplates causin’ concussion by pumpkin. Blessed protocol results proved I was negative since my head’s harder dan whatever’s left of your Halloween candy. “Da Golden Idolo,” conversely, comes across as a soft sell, hollow donut hole. He has his moments, but you’re left unfulfilled. Deyr’s also da factoid dat pinnin’ him Monday night leads to a meanin’-ful rubber rumba somewhere else.
Den deyr are dose who deny my brave babyface belief. I didn’t praise Phoenix. Roswell resented my campaign rally cry. Bourbon Street balks brilliance not sourced from illuminated lightin’ I recognize Vicente’s flashbulb flair and dose incendiary insights will make fans flip. I must be better at blindin' and toss him back into his token tomb.
