Here’s a mango. A juicy mango. The mango has been eaten. By me. Thank you.
(This blog post was made in an effort to remove my eyes from the Vancouver at Boston game).
Where did you find that fine looking mango? I like mangoes. Even better than the hockey!
Isn’t it terrific? I was given that by a friend at work. She buys these yellow beauties from Wal-Mart for some ridiculously low price by-the-case. She gave me a tip along with the mango. She said, when buying by the case, look for a case that contains ripe mangoes, not so ripe mangoes, and under-ripe mangoes, so you have the perfect mango for the days ahead.
I need to drown my sorrows in a mango too. Oh Canucks, my Canucks.
Dear Canucks: No worries yet boys. There’s still time. I will have shallow breathing, anxious wringing of hands and cold sweats until this is all over. But don’t worry about me. Concentrate on bringing the Cup back to Canada. And, when you do win it, bring it over to our place. I’ll serve tea. Luongo will be permitted a sip of sherry
I hate hockey, but i love mangos! There is a ripe one wating to be eaten by me. I think I need mago cutting lessons from you: mine do not look nearly so neat!
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