Neuroses for a fee sufficient to quench the ongoing grease fire of my personal finances, and see it published and in print, you will have to make do with the following highlight film. Judge for yourself. Apparently, nothing says I love you like a sump pump. Never, ever put a live hen in the trash compactor. I spend many a mile trying to figure out what, exactly, an order of chik n pizza would look like.
Maine also seems to have a fondness for beauty pageants.
Okay, let s think about this for a minute. Once we rule out fat chicks, hatchet-faced chicks, chicks who look like God carved their faces out of a potato, and chicks with one or more front teeth missing, we have only 6 or 7 contestants left. Based on the women I saw in Van Buren, these aspiring beauty queens wouldn t exactly give Claudia Schiffer a run for her money. In fact, Chelsea Clinton could beat them hands down with a flat-top haircut. A little farther down the road in Mars Hill, I see a sign congratulating Miss Teen Maine, a young lady by the name of Marcy Burtchell.