With a photo like this, who needs
testimonials? Amy is the sassiest
bitch in Brooklyn, but more
importantly, she's your go-to girl for
all of the following: An invitation to
a party swarming with sub-lebrities, a
night of drunken confessionals, a
brilliant rooftop conversation about
the fraudulent intentions of third-
world tourists and the nature of
personal belief, a hook-up at the cell-
phone store on fifth avenue, and a
truly fabulous friend who, despite all
her fabulousness and (thusly) all the
demands on her attention, always and
really and truly and deeply cares.
It's not just her amazing ability to
sing along to *every* song on the
jukebox at your local bar, but the fact
that they all *mean* something to her
that make her, well, her. If Craig
Arnold never does another good thing in
his life, we have him to thank for all
the trouble that Amy and I got
ourselves into together in Brooklyn.
And my, oh, my. Oh, my. OH (Amy, just
remember that one poetry reading where
between the two of us...enough said),
what excellent trouble it was. Miss
you, baby. Miss you like mad.
Amy will lend you her tape recorder when
you need to sneakily collect evidence
for a sexual harrasment law suit against
your boss. She'll tell you all about
your favorite porn stars...and it won't
be hearsay, mind you, it'll be straight
from the horse's...umm, mouth. Her
80-nothing pound self will also outdrink
all you heavyweights out there. Beware
the Benfer!
"Awww look everyone, Amy's dropping
bottles off a roof on to a busy
sidewalk. She's so cute!" Comments like
these and many others can be heard
frequently when hanging out with Amy.
In the many years I've known Amy I've
protected her from Nazis, donned a
kilt, watched her set people on fire,
walked around in matching vinyl jeans,
corrupted the young, offended the old,
made a Repo man cry, had run-ins with
campus rent-a-cops, in a kilt, and
watched Peaches shove three microphones
down her throat... wait a second, was
that all just last week? So if you're
lookin for a rockin good time, don't
call Amy. If you're looking for a
shameless unpredictable evening that
may very well put your life and the
lives of others in danger... yeah...
call Amy... and wear a fire retardent
suit.
for such a tiny frame, this young lady
packs a massive wallop. she may be
seen firing explosives at yuppies on
rooftops or drinking people twice her
weight under the table. use other
than recomended use may result in
blindness or injury.
Testimonials and Comments for Amy
smoke with me!
ariter, i wundr if this
splling/and/or/and grammer
will Piss: (her) off.
i -hope not...
she is cool.
testimonials? Amy is the sassiest
bitch in Brooklyn, but more
importantly, she's your go-to girl for
all of the following: An invitation to
a party swarming with sub-lebrities, a
night of drunken confessionals, a
brilliant rooftop conversation about
the fraudulent intentions of third-
world tourists and the nature of
personal belief, a hook-up at the cell-
phone store on fifth avenue, and a
truly fabulous friend who, despite all
her fabulousness and (thusly) all the
demands on her attention, always and
really and truly and deeply cares.
It's not just her amazing ability to
sing along to *every* song on the
jukebox at your local bar, but the fact
that they all *mean* something to her
that make her, well, her. If Craig
Arnold never does another good thing in
his life, we have him to thank for all
the trouble that Amy and I got
ourselves into together in Brooklyn.
And my, oh, my. Oh, my. OH (Amy, just
remember that one poetry reading where
between the two of us...enough said),
what excellent trouble it was. Miss
you, baby. Miss you like mad.
you need to sneakily collect evidence
for a sexual harrasment law suit against
your boss. She'll tell you all about
your favorite porn stars...and it won't
be hearsay, mind you, it'll be straight
from the horse's...umm, mouth. Her
80-nothing pound self will also outdrink
all you heavyweights out there. Beware
the Benfer!
week in america's finest news
source. don't front!
world of fireants. Wish us luck...
bottles off a roof on to a busy
sidewalk. She's so cute!" Comments like
these and many others can be heard
frequently when hanging out with Amy.
In the many years I've known Amy I've
protected her from Nazis, donned a
kilt, watched her set people on fire,
walked around in matching vinyl jeans,
corrupted the young, offended the old,
made a Repo man cry, had run-ins with
campus rent-a-cops, in a kilt, and
watched Peaches shove three microphones
down her throat... wait a second, was
that all just last week? So if you're
lookin for a rockin good time, don't
call Amy. If you're looking for a
shameless unpredictable evening that
may very well put your life and the
lives of others in danger... yeah...
call Amy... and wear a fire retardent
suit.
HATS OFF, AMY!
packs a massive wallop. she may be
seen firing explosives at yuppies on
rooftops or drinking people twice her
weight under the table. use other
than recomended use may result in
blindness or injury.