Face

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Me and my friend have this face we do when one of us asks the question, “Do you have work tomorrow?” I could tell you how it scrunches and which side, and what the lips do, but the most important thing to get out of it is that it seems to say (in a I’ve won the lottery; I couldn’t possibly be bothered; are you fucking kidding me; I own this country) “no.” We are pimps because we do not work tomorrow. We are gods. Continue reading Face

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