Wayne Tell me, when the first show is over, will you still love me when I'm an incredibly humungoid giant star Cassandra Yeah. Wayne Will you still love me when I'm in my hanging-out-with-Ravi-Shankar phase Cassandra Yeah. Wayne Will you still love me when I'm in my carbohydrate, sequined-jumpsuit, young-girls-in-white-cotton-panties, waking-up-in-a-pool-of-your-own-vomit, bloated-purple-dead-on-a-toilet phase Cassandra Yeah. Wayne Okay, party. Bonus.
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Oh, great reviews are the worst. They mislead you more than the bad ones, because they only fuel your ego. Then you only want another one, like potato chips or something, and the best thing you get is fat and bloated. I'd rather just refuse, thanks.
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That devilish Iron Horse, whose ear-rending neigh is heard throughout the town, has muddied the Boiling Spring with his foot, and he it is that has browsed off all the woods on Walden shore, that Trojan horse, with a thousand men in his belly, introduced by mercenary Greeks! Where is the country's champion, the Moore of Moore Hall, to meet him at the Deep Cut and thrust an avenging lance between the ribs of the bloated pest?
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Undernourished, intelligence becomes like the bloated belly of a starving child: swollen, filled with nothing the body can use.
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What house, bloated with luxury, ever became prosperous without a woman's excellence?
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