I AM RIDICULOUSLY ILL. IT IS EITHER QUARTER TO THREE OR QUARTER TO FOUR IN THE MORNING, DEPENDING ON WHETHER OR NOT YOU CHANGED YOUR CLOCK YET. I HAVE LOST SO MUCH WEIGHT THAT MY FRIEND WITH THE DYING MOTHER IS WORRIED ABOUT ME. I HATE MY FLATMATES. THEY JUST CAME IN VERY LOUDLY AND ONE OF THEM KNOCKED ON MY DOOR AND SHOUTED "HELLO, NICE TO SEE YOU
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Belt-shopping SUCKS.
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I've had a truly evil dentist before. He got murdered.
Not by me. Swear to God.
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... well I did think you'd be smart enough to hire someone else to do it for you.
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He also does gardens.
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Why are you reading fashion articles? Is it your job or something?
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No, my friends asked me to do another one of my Big Bad Fashion Rants as they find them funny. Good to know that my apoplectic hypertension has its uses
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