Allman's are not models of life choices. But God almighty I am retching thinking what Babs shit smells like.
Yoghurt and self-satisfaction.
We used to do this shit for hours- the what would you rather do stuff.
Would you rather: Go down on Nancy Reagan, or eat warm egg salad off Ed Asner's back?
Choose: Make out with Mel Gibson (and it's only making out) or go skinny dipping with Prince with all his security guys and stuff there and no guarantee what may or may not happen?