She's once, twice, three times a mannequin and I love Andrew. (Andrew McCarthy.)
The "Pretty in Pink" era Andrew McCarthy, not the " Weekend at Bernie's"era Andrew: let's face it by then he looked worse than the corpse.
So, I rubbed her breast until the paint came off her plastic areola,but he didn't appear.
What sort of sad fairy-tale is this ?
Well all's demented that ends demented. I took her home to meet Mum; who was so impressed by her spooky affinity for polyester that now we're betrothed. We're moving into the manchester section at one of Jiaxing's more elite shopping centres.
Update. It's all over. (Already)
I took her quiet as moodiness and snapped at her:
"Cattrall got your tongue?"
"I'm more mannequin than you'll ever be."
While knocking me into next week.
The good news from the future is I'm free and single again; the bad news,my comedy hasn't improved.