I will go into the west. To America. Land of Plenty. I set off tomorrow to sit in a tiny little cylinder, hurtling through the air at 500+ miles per hour, my life in the hands of a tired pilot who goes to bed feeling empty inside because the job isn't all it's cracked up to be and his wife has let herself go and his dog died. So perhaps Mr
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I'll go to the 'store' and buy some 'candy' for a few 'bucks'. Then I'll walk down the 'sidewalk' and hail a 'cab' and eat some 'potato chips'. Then King Kong will come get me but Spiderman will save me from his clutches and then Macauly Culkin will set a series of ingenius traps for me when I try to break into his hideout with my good friend Joe Pesci. After that I'll walk around randomly talking about the woes of the world, just like Woody Allen would. Finally I'll go and talk about my typical New York day on David Letterman.
*note: My image of New York may be highly inaccurate and exaggerated. Nothing will make me disbelieve in Spiderman though. I know I'll see him hanging around....
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*Blood boils*
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Ah the big apple mmmmm. Don't eat ppl on the street expecting them to taste like apple. Do come back and make me laugh some more. America isn't ready for your humour. You shall be missed *cries*. But be productive and go to greenwich village and steal me cute puppies and hippies. Ahum please.
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Hate.
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