millionaire actress Carmen Electra wants me to buy a camera. the camera
has no sharp edges and comes equipped with a smoke alarm. later, in
terms of days or this life (whatever), the noise softens, and hot as hot
singing sensation Kevin Federline pleas with me to secure my rights of
ownership to an iPod of preeminent weight (17 tons, greater than the
weight of all the iPods on Jupiter), do you see? this is an impressive
injunction. Kanye West instructs me on which side is left when I turn
and which is right. he also offers his ideas of preference between the
two, in terms of time-space continuum and what not. Jennifer Aniston
controls all the wealth of my memory, even the Everest of green bills
that I've had. Jennifer Aniston will delight in numbers until the end of
my days. her days, as a successful entertainer with a graphic range of
emotion including happy and sad, pulverizes any inkling of giving in to
doldrums of non-entertainment exercise. her hair, let me speak of her
hair, it shrouds the death scenes with a grinning carapace. she isn't so
much wonderful as a dying breed of definite. Kanye West is her lover, if
the truth be not told. his trip into trees relaxes his state of mind,
and encourages pure flood of success. that's the key, pure flooded
success, which is a range of emotion beginning and ending in one place,
studded with grace and bequeathed not at all until one can encompass the
rhythm inside the trusted rock. Carmen Electra assays the weight of
aforesaid camera, which is like the weight of Pluto, only more graven.
dust falls fallow on the relationship of Jennifer Aniston and the stun
gun Brad Pitt (2 syllables to succeed in the picture!). Brad Pitt (those
syllables!) indeed and Angelina Jolie, together earnestly as well as
visually. Jolie means Japanese Door in French. Beyoncé is like the jail
we'll never leave, with a ship of magnets to pull us offshore. LeBron
James institutes a new heaven, with big shoes, baggy shorts, headband of
the highest wealth, and more. other instants occur naturally, flavoured
with sunshine. Jennifer Aniston is gosh-darn-it, running naked thru the
library while lesser numbers collect at zero. nakedness is an influx of
variables, none of which adds up to much. Death has mercy, but chooses
it wisely.
