so i had moar gloop. i could write a best selling cook book on all the ways it can be made, and then i could retire rich at 40 and sail the world on my personal giant yacht and hold shark battles on the weekends, wherein the winner would be awarded with a giant mass of chum and the loser would be rewarded with finger pointing and laughter
i think i want to find a big patch of ground and sprawl on it and stare at the sky and be tired and (still) disgruntled
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