WHAT? Not wanting to see a movie called TWILIGHT never taught me to learn...

What? I didn't want to linger in the supposition that I couldn't remember the color for the 'prom' dress that the vix'd she-wanton demonette was of a will to don w/o any pretense for a failure to have willed a color more suitablurt.

So I never went. I only drew copious mini-versions of numberless concourses of coursaged bidden nuance replete with tones of fabric for some designs, and lesser amounts for other designs I personally rendered (for my academic right to have persued FASHION ILLUSTRATION with Figure Drawing allures for my college preparatory entice) which I would never get a chance to show others. But they did linger in my heart...for while I was of strong objection to the principle fact that I didn't agree with the script, or book or whatever they call the nuance of what was brought forth against cheer and chortler... I couldn't ever get over the sense that I had actually partaken of part of this experience my very self...for the descriptions were not to soothe me as being original to the book I was relegating every moment and dime for that particular New Year's Eve when I traveled into the big king sized stack of delivered-at-cost primal instinkerree, to know that I would not enjoy it enough to wantonly bask in the standing of prank lines that tickets threatened never to amount to the enought for the lost casted against the societal chirp which bade me to inbribe myself to dis the second of the tri-glyphting metOpey.


So I write a huge run-on sentence to relieve myself from any suspicion that you would e'en to care WHAT I thought of the nyggardly diatribe against my wholesomerr'd mind.