Yeah, a make-out session shouldn't be on a plane. It should be in my living room. In a kiddie pool full of mineral oil. Topless. Surrounded by lava lamps. All while Beck plays on my stereo. And I'm eating a big bag of Twizzlers.
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What goes around comes around. Sometimes you get what's coming around, and sometimes you are what's coming around. You see what I mean?
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