Upon our second meeting, we locked eyes from across a crowded bar. We were brought together by a magnetic, platonic, electronic, supersonic attraction. We were drunk on Blue Moon and free pizza and high off of a sweet trivia victory in a world before Chris Brown beat Rihanna's face. Love was in the air and there was nobody more interesting for us to speak with. We then delved deeper as discussion veered towards our fondness of Vegas. Lilly loves that Hooter's bacon and Lulu can't get her fill of prime, Grade-A Australian water polo meat. And thus Meat Mavericks sprang from our loins.
Is that tripe Dolce and Gabbana?
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