per our cross-country instructions to one another, joe packed my thrifted balenciaga for my grandmother's funeral and i bought him two pairs of extra-soft power rangers boxer shorts.
Fashion. And do you mean to say you don’t know me? Death. You should know that my sight is bad, and that I can’t use spectacles, since the English now make none that suit me; and if they did, I have no nose to stick them on. Fashion. Why, I am Fashion, your own sister. Death. My sister! Fashion. Aye; don’t you remember that we are both the children of Frailty?
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And acquired a fleece drinking blanket on the way.
Fashion. And do you mean to say you don’t know me?
Death. You should know that my sight is bad, and that I can’t use spectacles, since the English now make none that suit me; and if they did, I have no nose to stick them on.
Fashion. Why, I am Fashion, your own sister.
Death. My sister!
Fashion. Aye; don’t you remember that we are both the children of Frailty?
http://www.bartleby.com/380/prose/840.html
lisa: i finally got to use the blanket on my transcontinental flight. i did not drink under it, but i did eat an inordinate number of jelly beans.
paul: sweet christ i love that. thank you.
Were the boxers extra soft because they were also thrifted?
he must never know.
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