So we placed a bet, and I was on my way to fame and fortune. I visualized the finish line; champagne, gold medals and fire works. But something happened. A little rock in the way called Madrid.
So this is how I looked on my return: 'Wow! Amazing! That is really different from before! What an immense and dense beard, you look like Santa Claus on Regain'
That is what people was supposed to say, but I could not do it. I could use the excuse that I had not calculated the heat in Madrid that drove me crazy until taking a lot of it away, however, I will no do that. Simply accept my defeat, and send my congratulations to Sexy Mom.
They will not include any kind of facial hair.
Man skall aldrig slå vad om man är dödlikt säker på att man har rätt
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