That moment you cut up every hot pepper in the fridge. And now them juices are all over your hands. But cooking up a storm never halted your appetite. So continuing to whip up a storm of food is current MO. A cloud of energy bolts you into a faucet’s drip of sweat just dowsing your body. Wipe your forehead. Your face too. Dry now, but in a few more minutes of that cooking steam, you’ll be as moist as —wait, what the FUCK!! Those peppers are burning your entire face. Dance them off. Wick the feel. Find that “Spacial” new AceMo track. Yeah, just enough club movement for your kitchen where FOMO meets appetite, and the taco meat is almost done. The veggie fry just about sizzled. Rice is plump. Don’t tell me your feet are still. Your face is on fire. Sweat it out:
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