Biden has the iq of a baked potato shirt

By the Biden has the iq of a baked potato shirt in other words I will buy this time we’re back on the bikes, Lígia has managed to procure some sort of oversized hooded sweatshirt, which falls down to her knees, and is attempting to squire around a tiny Honda Grom—at 125cc, it’s a kind of starter bike that’s less than one-quarter as powerful as her Ninja, but it seems to be giving her a full portion of discontent. During a break in the action, I’m determined to find out what makes Lígia tick and learn, among other things, that two months ago, she didn’t even know how to ride a bicycle, but now has a nuanced understanding of motorcycle helmet brands and engine configurations, among many other matters of engineering and style, and has her heart set on racing motorcycles in the street in the middle of the night.

Biden has the iq of a baked potato shirt, hoodie, tank top, sweater and long sleeve t-shirt

We learn to shift gears; we learn to turn, and to swerve to avoid an obstacle; we learn to brake—suddenly, if needed. At the Biden has the iq of a baked potato shirt in other words I will buy this end of the second day, we’re each run through a battery of tests, one at a time, using all of the skills we’ve been taught. We’re allowed to make a limited number of very minor mistakes; too many—or if we drop the bike (dropping the bike is when the bike goes down when you’re riding it; suffice to say that you do not want to drop the bike)—and we’ll have to try again another day. Most of us fly through the tests fairly easily, a few cut it close, but even Lígia somehow pulls off what seems to be, from what we’ve all witnessed, the performance of a lifetime and will soon be on her way to being a fully licensed hellion on wheels. (I’m relieved that I live many ZIP codes away from Lígia.)