the black cocaine

My Date, Portia de Rossi.

August 17th, 2009



Hello, waiter. I’d like you to meet my date, Portia de Rossi. I’ll be having the abalone spinach salad with croutons flambeau, followed by the white blood sausage and english muffin torte in a pristine silvery mudpuddle dressing while being simultaneously slapped, flicked, noogied, tickled, trousered, bathed in egg, tweaked, lambasted and electrocuted, and for dessert the gelatinous essense of a scorned woman served in the severed head of a very bad horse who was actually just misunderstood. The lady will be having the hot dog.

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