A toast for the post that I post the most when I post as I do whilst I'm giving this toast.
A full grown grin towards the man whose tragically hip so if he learns that he will turn the flop before it flips, tighten up my lips because the case for the vase has begun like the chundle king and if you're wondering, the taste that I'm seeming to thread like I'm seaming the edge is vunder zing.
Neolithic tidal wave plunders through the under pinned equity line that you'll find is quite ehh-quit quietly I'll see something somewhere has to give if the normal apparatus is the under quilt and sieve, then the system is flawed, and the whole sign is a drill of the entire empire, as retirees ride and they spin in their hover round, floating above ground riding through town.
Now the temperatures low and the slipping on the ground has a chance in which the index has entirely spun round, releasing statements unclaimed by the slippages and limitless understanding left made, from pretext without recourse and what's still is unlaid retorts that are half made and under grade.
A toast I say, A toast to the least of the queasiest host without quizzerifict feats.
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