Paige Pfeifer
I was born under the sidewalk, christened with fire ants and an old wad of Hubba Bubba. I begrudgingly turn into a wolf under the fluorescents of suburban strip malls. Sunny D (the company; the drink) is trying to kill me. Until last year, I was forbidden by an undisclosed entity from making a right turn in a moving vehicle. I am the Babushka Lady.
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