Porygon Z, Battle Factory

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Bitches call me Yogi cause I'm overbearing. Over sharing. Over caring.

I really want a gyro. But I'd give up gyros to just have my lip feel fucking better. It's swollen, it's probably infected, and I just ripped the skin off of it.

The first time I went to New York there was this one particular gyro cart that had amazing gyros. I haven't had one since that lived up to it.

Maybe I just feel that way because it was my first gyro.

Am I a first gyro? Do I steadily become less amazing with time and trial until I become a concept instead of a reality? An average occurrence, sometimes terrible sometimes great. I'm a daily.

I'm at the point. The Point. But will it be a North Pole or a Mythbuster's glass shard? Too much.

Chili has... chili powder. Made from chilis. How have I never realized this before? Why did I think it was named chili? Because it was warm?? What the hell.

Hi! Welcome to Chili's!

Articulation isn't quite my forte.

I'm the first word of the wrap you put over leftovers you never eat again.

I'm a yes to the first line of Sugar, We're Goin' Down

But I'm still going down swinging.

Or do I just need to bunt?

I don't know. I'm sorry. I hope this works. I really want this to work.

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