I can fit in my birthday present

Let us reminisce of birthdays past. When I was but a lass of 38 my man gave me this fantastic gift. Grill, baby, grill!

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One response to “I can fit in my birthday present

  1. For a glimpse of the distinguished pedigree of ICFIT and its mistress herein chronicled in all her Sarandipitous and ever-condensible human-diamond compaction, see this passage from a 1986 review by John Gross of Learned Pigs & Fireproof Women, a history of exotic performers by Ricky Jay, scholar and one of the world’s leading sleight-of-hand artists:

    “Fantastic characters throng Mr. Jay’s pages – Clarence Willard, who was able to grow 6 inches taller ‘while delivering a pseudo-scientific monologue on his peculiar physiology’; Chabert, the foremost fire-eater and ‘human salamander’ of the early 19th century, who used to lock himself in a blazing oven with two raw steaks and emerge with them done to perfection; Seamus Burke, the volatile former tramp from Kilkenny who fathered the science of enterology (which may sound rather sinister but is really only the opposite of escapology, getting into things rather than getting out of them).”

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