Possums, do forgive our late start today (something to do with the powerful combination of Roman candles and sangria), but while we rouse ourselves, we wanted to solicit your help (though not for hair of the dog).
As you are all-too aware, the Wayward & Biatchstein investigation into Fauxmicah's meatloaf-less past was split wide open by our very own Deep Throat, a faithful Amuse-Biatch reader with a yearbook and a scanner.
In that spirit, we would like to ask any of you who might have gone to school with any of the cheftestants this season (and who have the pictorial evidence thereof), to drop us a line with the relevant evidence. Mind you, we're not looking for scandal (though if you have stories about how, for example, CJ Jacobson tattled on people during Home Ec class or Casey Thompson failed to win the Miss Sweet Potato crown, we'd love to hear them); we're just looking for mullets, braces and zits, Who They Were Before They Became for Jamie Lee Curtis the Symbol of All That Is Wrong in America.
So, possums, if you fancy being our very own little Sore Throat (Miss XaXa feels it's more dignified, and yet dirtier, than Deep Throat), we'll be sitting by our inbox nursing a Bloody Mary.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
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1 comment:
Dahlings, you are people after my own heart, exhorting your readers to pimp for you. How delicious and fun. I would send you my high school year book, but that would ruin your breakfast.
I meant pimp in only the kindest gentlest way, if that is possible.
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