We could not rest on the glory of our V2 Summit, for the sea ice is melting and Marc Bolan is still dead! So we hit the Georgetown Martini and Rossi circle and attended our friends at a State Dinner at the White House. Imagine our astonishment when that nice young man, Barack Obama, said he did not know us! Hand to heaving bosom, we really know how Snooki must have felt. Which usually only happens when we are searching for our missing underwear.
When you have egg on your face, make bÃ©arnaise! People, we have to rectify the situation of our comparative obscurity. Morrissey is depending on us! So we look to you, gentle readers. Please continue to enjoy a spot of vomitola, and tell your friends. And when you submit to our ads of interest and click our links to our other sites or buy our comely vomitola wares, you put porridge in Lambchop’s mouth. Which god knows she needs, because if you leave her to her own devices she will subsist on candy canes. Spread the love, and pass the Vomitola.
Tareq, darling, I hate to tell you, but you are looking a bit jowly. I say this as a friend.
Oh Michaela, you are just hangry. Have a cookie, dear. And try to keep your fingers out of your throat.