Flouncing into my foyer, fangoriously famished, a fearsome fake facade affronted me forging fear forthwith. Furious I, fuming, ferociously but futilely fought down familiar fancy. Fortunately said fancy frolics in foreordained freedom and forthwith foiled my forbearance and forced a fiendish function full-on in frenzied construction, finding finally fit future fashioning foreday fright for friends. Is it Fail?

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I have a nagging feeling that I won't be able to unpack properly until this weekend. And I want a dresser now. Argh.
...Also, I want to see you flounce someday.
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It's scary. Probably up there with my interpretive dance, and my valley girl accent.
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