You know what I love about rules like that? Playing “Spot the Author’s Sexual Hang-Up.” For this one, I got fifty that says it was someone who gets off on sniffing chair seats.
Oh come on, you can’t just leave us hanging like that!
What book was it, and what were the messages? And what was the reason she couldn’t use her left hand?
If I learned anything in journalism school (obviously, “how to write in English” wasn’t one of them) it was that there is nothing more deadeningly dull than normality and dull doesn’t sell newspapers.
Nah, Wasilla must be…experienced. It and its inhabitants defy description, although our illustrious idiot-in-residence in the senate characterized them all as “valley trash” a few months ago.
Ah yes…the Rev. Jerry Pervo…er Prevo. Words cannot express the contempt I have for this guy. He’s forged a Baptist empire out of the wilderness, complete with 22 houses that are tax exempt. I keep hoping someone will catch him with his dick stuck in a chicken.