The blood bank wouldn't accept my blood. Some horse-puckey about it being "too loaded with barbituates and viruses" and yadda-yadda-yadda. So where're we gonna' get gambling/drug money now?
I forsee a career as a chickenhawk in your immediate future.
So begins the peddlin'.
Say, stranger, need some company?
On account of your advanced age and seeming lack of flexibility, I will have to politely decline your invitation.
And I thought I smelt the vapour of sweet, enduring love on him. Or maybe it was paint thinner, freon, aerosol whipped creme, propane and key board cleaning fluid. I always get those two confused.
