As I was prancing around and warning Chris not to drink that orange juice (it's way old), I was talking aloud like I do. Mostly what I was saying had to do with juice he was going to put in a drink for me. My exact hollering was, "Don't you use that on me! Don't you dare use that on me!" which, to the untrained ear, might sound way more exciting than an orange juice debate. Once the new juice was made, the decision was about the other half of the drink: did I want to go spicy or ganster? Confused, I said, "Spankster." This is a good name for a drink. It does not exist.
Another thing that does not exist is a fabulous bra line that I just invented today. It's called "Ü ber Bü b" (the spacing is odd because it's slightly foreign). It's pronounced Oober Boob, but since it's German, it's exotic. The slogan is "Ü ber Bü b, you know you need one."
Hmm. Spanksters aren't very good, but as I'm drinking the James Bond Spankster (stuff poured but not stirred together), I could be wrong.
An Erinku:
cow slippers
concern the
cat
greatly
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