My date was drop-dead gorgeous!
“Including having a bouncer on the premises?” “A bouncer?” “A guy in a uniform who gets rid of querysome people by talking their hind legs off—but making it clear that if necessary he'd pull them off with his bare hands.”
Next came the vorlages, copied from the Austrian guides, which are almost similar to the first trousers Mr Symonds designed for women. The vorlages have held the slopes against all comers ever since.
Now, I know that the the problem with what I'm saying is that it sounds like a recipe for being really boring and humdrum. Links, links, links. I'm not really; the rickroll has a value, to spike peoples' inflated expectations, or remind them—wittily—of their weaknesses: […]
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