There once was a girl called Pooja, Who lived in the town of Fallujah, She loved the Arsenal coach, And hated every cockroach, And there's no other word that rhymes.
I miss my Pooja.
boo!
So, are pools of blood really that comfortable?
I THINK I'LL TYPE LIKE THIS.
You can't believe everything you hear on TV. :rolleyes2
SHE COULD BE, YES. SHE COULD BE CHOPPED UP INTO SLICES OF POOJA-MEAT.
Crying is for girls.