Sing me into a deep, soft, carb-loaded sleep with your sweet song and soothing march.
I never have the energy to let my fish, gravy and peas set into the desired shape. I always skip the molding step and head straight to eating, silly me.
Someday someone will recognize me in a drive through for being that one lady who writes crappy jokes about food on the internet. A girl can dream...
That fancy mud bath spa you love? Yeah, that's stew for giants.
This is not what I had in mind when I ordered dessert pizza. Where's my giant cookie?
Flood the elevators with honey mustard sauce and only offer to pay to clean people's shoes if they eat a 20 piece. Sweet deal.
Can I get an order of two shoulders up and an extra scoop of whatever chicken stuff?
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