The more oil this chick rubs on her body, the more I’m becoming okay with her single name bit. Does she even know what she’s selling? Does she even care? She’s got the daily petroleum output of Qatar coating her epidermis. If the post-solstice sun hits her just right, she’ll go up like a Jason Pierre Paul firework. Pass the hat for funeral expenses and bring out the next girl. Make sure the obit says she died doing what she loved.
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