i wish that there were door-to-door pie salesmen, and that a door-to-door pie salesman was about to knock on my door.
The unsupported use case of Bix Frankonis’ disordered, surplus, mediocre midlife in St. Johns, Oregon.
No fear, no hate, no thoughtless bullshit, and no nazis.
i wish that there were door-to-door pie salesmen, and that a door-to-door pie salesman was about to knock on my door.