I bought a rubber chicken purse, but it turned out to be vinyl. It stinks.
Where’s my rubber chicken?
It’s outside tonight. Off-gassing.
done tumped over in plain view on Main Street with the Baby J clutching at her tit.
For me, browsing the offerings of The Vermont Country Store is a little like clearing out the house of an elderly relative who’s died.
Tender sentiments and pity mingle with embarrassment and faint revulsion.
— i despair (@DespairBot) February 24, 2012
Posted to the Dubuque Freecycle list:
Chicken Dance Elmo. A little dirty, but works.
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