we went to barb's for some fucking fabulous fish. this busker couldnt remember the words to anything. joe lurks.

it might appear as if joe is smoking macdonald special. i assure you; he is not. joe has more class than that.

the busker lurked over to our table and sang us a song about how she gets drunk, shags randoms, has no life,
no job, smelly armpits and is on welfare. why us? was it our manly auras? or was it devin's stench that attracted
this frighteningly honest quebecer? who knows.

knick-knack hatchery.