please contact the White House for all questions about my daily habits

One of the tellers at the credit union says: "Well, I know the songs. I just know the old ones better." Dusty and discontinued licorice. He was tall enough that he looked taller than he was. Replicas of sporting instruments—steering wheels, putters—for use in video replicas of the parent sport. Sold separately. Baskets of yarn on the sidewalk. A gaggle of bros, stiff-limbed from a day at the half-pipe, carrying a huge pizza all together like EMTs, like acrobats with a landing pad, like a giant Ouja board, etc. The possibilities are daunting. "The cult of conspicuous busyness."  A tattoo of Mr. Rogers and a rainbow that says TAKE BACK THE NEIGHBORHOOD. A police car from the next town over pulls up to the spaghetti factory. It is vaguely terrifying to see someone sitting in the passenger seat of a parked car. But it is slightly worse if the parked car is also in a parking lot. Give yourself a walking route that cuts over the railroad. This is like letting the cake think it's baking itself. Very important.

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