cruel, cruel winter

You know what really burns my biscuits?  Chapped lips.  Since the thermometer first dipped below patio weather, I’ve consumed enough Carmex and it’s varied cohorts to supply at the very least, a small island nation.  And I do mean consumed.  I am fully aware that at this point my bloodstream probably has more petroleum based chemicals than red blood cells or whatever.  Short of acquiring a face mask humidifier, I’m at a loss, as to how I might rectify this very serious concern.  A girl can’t go through life with her head up and crypt keeper lips.  Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but chapped lips sure chap my ass.

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