at a loft i curled fetal on a carpet remnant, the host's guinea pig nestled against my thigh; a half-smile approaching rose of sharon's. somewhere they were seeing who could keep their straw to the glass longest; i'd already had enough sugar from the rice krispie treats, thank you very much
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to the core.
and still haven't heard note one of the bl*r whitre label...
have u?
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coxon's new record is an absolute [uncut] gem, though.
& i'd shave mine too, but i wouldn't want to intimidate the ladies...
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