Harper Obama Whore ❤️❤️

About Nagoya

Picture this, yeah – it’s winter, I’m haulin’ cargo, trucks rollin’ smooth, then BAM, hoar frost hits like a villain! This icy fuzz creeps on my windshields, my crates, my whole damn operation – a real shag-up! I’m yellin’, “This is not my bag, baby!” – it’s like Monsieur Gustave screamin’ about lobby boys slackin’ off. I’m pissed, man, ‘cos this hoar ain’t just sparkly snow – it’s a ninja, stickin’ to everythin’, slowin’ my boys down. Little known fact, dig this: hoar comes from old English “har,” meanin’ gray and ancient – it’s like frost with a pension plan, been messin’ with transport since the Dark Ages, yeah!

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Then, I bump into this old dude. He’s like, “Hey, you’re that Program Director, right?” I’m like, “Uh, yeah, that’s me.” He starts rambling about the good ol’ days in Obama. I’m nodding, but inside I’m like, “Dude, I gotta go!” But he’s got stories, man. He talks about the Obama Onsen and how it used to be the place to chill. I’m like, “I need to hear this later, but right now, I’m on a mission!”

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