Post by Azurine Vebbins on Mar 7, 2021 23:59:03 GMT -5
“Da Damsel in Dat Dress” Azurine Vebbins denies distraught deliberation. She smiles standing next to “Big Swoon” Nidrah while communicating in colloquial candor.
Azurine Vebbins: Superlative sentiments! Dis week on CruiserClash, I dedicate our dance to all da loquacious ladies, gracious gals, and well-witted women who support Nidrah and me. We know it’s been a strainin’, sordid struggle to view Retch, Spite, and Ruined obstruct us at every opportunity. Still, “Big Swoon” and I persist like suffragettes Susan B. An-dony, Harriet Tubman, Lucretia Coffin Mott, and Eliz-a-bed Cady Stanton. Each of dose darin’ dames were denied favorable outcomes by powers perceived as insurmountable. Lesser lasses would’ve let da oncomin’ logic locomotive be derailed. Instead, dey kept layin’ track.
In dat similar spirit, your preferred pairin’ must continue chasin’ after da Cruiserweight Tag-Team Championships. To paraphrase what my hotter half said in a previous recordin’: “Da people have spoken. We will be victorious and golden.” Only din’ preventin’ Pineapple Promenade from procurin’ proper prestige is pacin’. My gorgeous gal remedied dis by extendin’ our “exotic extracurricular exercises.” Between pole fitness, tandem spin class on our stationary yellow Kulana Lua Beach Cruiser Bike, tantric yoga, and regularly runnin’ leashed laps. Yep, girlfriend’s got a great grip. You could consider us da modern-day versions of Eliz-a-bed Marston and Olive Byrne. Notion my audience recognizes dem as muses for Wonder Woman. Den again, dat Demysciran Diana Prince’s got no-din’ on my Nidrah. Her gauntlets might ricochet bullets, but dey can’t stop bein’ planted by my Polynesian Powerbomberella.
We’re not gonna be browbeaten by two sanctimonious, sodden succubi of da Sadder Cray Aint’s anymore. After all, neider Gnarly Gnash or Likki Lawn are softshoe-ins for sainthood, sisters. I call her Gnarly Gnash since she bilks biddy believers into bankruptcy. How? She ghastly grinds deyr dentures into hard reline. As for Likki Lawn? Her gentrified grass should get mowed down by a couple rosy-cheeked riveters. When da time comes to make dat moody mass mulch, da senoras who are “sarong style” can do it.
One of dem shalt be sacrificed via pinfall in da name of progress. It’d be extremely eloquent eliminatin’ Spread, Sprite, and Spruced from deyr entitlements. Bein’ biased, I’d settle on sweepin’ da irrational individual off her feet who did so to my estranged mod-der. However, what matters most is da honey I honor not havin’ her supple shoulders covered Monday night. Well, at least not ‘til we’re back at our sweetheart suite.
Of course, anoder advantage of becomin’ Cruiserweight Tag-Team Champions? We can begin buildin’ da division wid dynamic duos. Right now, it seems only Two Gents, da triflin’ titleistas, and our brave babyfaces are current competition. Imagine Katta Pult and Debra Monroe, Regan Voorhees plus a partner of her choosin’, or Lissie Hope teamin’ wid someone special. All dree of dose tandems are definitely on my Dream Dance List. Karlie and Nikki, dough, are just two beady-brained broads to cross off as we clash onward.
Fade to black.
Azurine Vebbins: Superlative sentiments! Dis week on CruiserClash, I dedicate our dance to all da loquacious ladies, gracious gals, and well-witted women who support Nidrah and me. We know it’s been a strainin’, sordid struggle to view Retch, Spite, and Ruined obstruct us at every opportunity. Still, “Big Swoon” and I persist like suffragettes Susan B. An-dony, Harriet Tubman, Lucretia Coffin Mott, and Eliz-a-bed Cady Stanton. Each of dose darin’ dames were denied favorable outcomes by powers perceived as insurmountable. Lesser lasses would’ve let da oncomin’ logic locomotive be derailed. Instead, dey kept layin’ track.
In dat similar spirit, your preferred pairin’ must continue chasin’ after da Cruiserweight Tag-Team Championships. To paraphrase what my hotter half said in a previous recordin’: “Da people have spoken. We will be victorious and golden.” Only din’ preventin’ Pineapple Promenade from procurin’ proper prestige is pacin’. My gorgeous gal remedied dis by extendin’ our “exotic extracurricular exercises.” Between pole fitness, tandem spin class on our stationary yellow Kulana Lua Beach Cruiser Bike, tantric yoga, and regularly runnin’ leashed laps. Yep, girlfriend’s got a great grip. You could consider us da modern-day versions of Eliz-a-bed Marston and Olive Byrne. Notion my audience recognizes dem as muses for Wonder Woman. Den again, dat Demysciran Diana Prince’s got no-din’ on my Nidrah. Her gauntlets might ricochet bullets, but dey can’t stop bein’ planted by my Polynesian Powerbomberella.
We’re not gonna be browbeaten by two sanctimonious, sodden succubi of da Sadder Cray Aint’s anymore. After all, neider Gnarly Gnash or Likki Lawn are softshoe-ins for sainthood, sisters. I call her Gnarly Gnash since she bilks biddy believers into bankruptcy. How? She ghastly grinds deyr dentures into hard reline. As for Likki Lawn? Her gentrified grass should get mowed down by a couple rosy-cheeked riveters. When da time comes to make dat moody mass mulch, da senoras who are “sarong style” can do it.
One of dem shalt be sacrificed via pinfall in da name of progress. It’d be extremely eloquent eliminatin’ Spread, Sprite, and Spruced from deyr entitlements. Bein’ biased, I’d settle on sweepin’ da irrational individual off her feet who did so to my estranged mod-der. However, what matters most is da honey I honor not havin’ her supple shoulders covered Monday night. Well, at least not ‘til we’re back at our sweetheart suite.
Of course, anoder advantage of becomin’ Cruiserweight Tag-Team Champions? We can begin buildin’ da division wid dynamic duos. Right now, it seems only Two Gents, da triflin’ titleistas, and our brave babyfaces are current competition. Imagine Katta Pult and Debra Monroe, Regan Voorhees plus a partner of her choosin’, or Lissie Hope teamin’ wid someone special. All dree of dose tandems are definitely on my Dream Dance List. Karlie and Nikki, dough, are just two beady-brained broads to cross off as we clash onward.
Fade to black.