When I was ten I walked into a psychic shop and for my lunch money a woman with a mole told me I would someday marry a Spanish model with big fake tits and the ability to deal a hand of stud by shooting cards dexterously out of her vagina. I don’t know why she didn’t just tell me I’d be a great football star and my bio dad would come back and be super awesome. It never made sense until now. This chick. Cynthia Escobar. She could be that woman. The One to bring the Matrix of my life together. Then I read her shit on Twitter.
Meh, they don’t make tits fake enough to make up for that nonsense. Stupid gypsy fortunetellers.
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