You just know that this horrible beastwoman is going to live to be 100, while people around her are mysteriously dying young of strokes and Heart Explodey. SHE'S NOT HUMAN I TELL YOU
"Wow" is not exactly a ringing endorsement when said in that tone.
A Golden Calf in shape of a buttery hog demon from the third circle of Hell where Cerberus lies, y'all.
If you took a sample of Paula and a sample of her butter sculpture and sent them away for analysis, the lab would think you gave them two of the same sample.
More like Butt Wranglers, haw haw haw.
They're like a bunch of wiry, fey backup dancers, except they're backing up someone the size of about three or four Madonnas, and the only dance they know is to the thump-thump...thump of an irregular heartbeat.
I'm not sure, but I do believe those little breaded things are the infamous deep-fried butter balls.
Oh come on even the idea of that is gross.
She was genuinely disappointed when she found out she couldn't eat it.
|Rodents of Unusual Size |
Can we have a new season of "Oh, Paula" but this time with Paula Deen? Because I cannot get enough of this shit.
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