You may remember me from that time I clocked the pope in his dumb pope face.
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what exactly is going through your head when you're running along a rooftop and then suddenly just decide to yeet yourself straight into the street and doubtless break a bunch of bones and stuff? I swear I've seen you do this more than once
Italians have firm but flexible hocks of pepperoni instead of bones.
your bestie leonardo da vinci invites you to go to pride what are you wearing
