  So as were leaving that fine establishment tonight, me and Lizard Breath I couldnt have scripted a better ending if I was writing the screenplay. Ok, so you all know I live in a bastion of suburban bad taste. But this exceeded all horrible expectations.
Were walking out of that fine establishment to get the fuck out of there (bikers showin up like flies to shit), and the most appetite-ruining image came waddling down the sidewalk. When did icky whores move in? oh my god, if her breasts werent 40 pounds a piece. That just isnt right. Her knees may be bruised from the pressure of kicking those up at each step, from keeping the whole body swaying she sure was dishing out some vocal complaints about something. The ICK factor was such that neither me nor Elizabeth could retain the mantra in our little brains. Im too tanked to get into detail. My fragile constitution tells me not to try. 
