The Engine Of Nostalgia Is The Armpit

The Engine Of Nostalgia Is The Armpit (Of Despair)

and i pretended to wave to her feet as the trainer left the platform (shoes behind the coach)
mind my is simply unable to do my software development work anymore i cannot concentrate
on any of it or why annual festivals continually get ridiculed here and there were noble
gentlemen proclaiming same sex attraction rocks to be gran ite as opposed to limes tone

and the bay ploy of the eastern interior fell off his stollen stole stool again investor
and you are not actually into sex but light ginger hair and silver hair make you want to
snuggle with you and eye shalt suck seed lest of luck with all of those potential goldmines
if you love news but despise current affairs hat means replying to their messages pronto

i am very uninteresting unless you are interested in (un)interesting things in which case
i am near sickle far sickle so if all you have is a picture of your nostril then i am looking
ferret away in the back of a car seat not looking for a LTR but not opposed to one either
that means getting back to them when you said you would and looking up knolls to take a breather

how shy are you on a scale of 3.8 to 17.4 with 6.9 being the shyest little earthworm in hull
who usually only likes people who dont like herr despicable trait with all her virility of
detesting those who when both people are very quiet say to the other one youre very quiet
and i wouldnt dream of it unless i was a sleep extracted from an eye of a grandiose swirl

that if you reside in a residence the residual floundering will soon deposit a residue is
to be axe know ledge peninsulated into a scarpering of the pom pom in the handz of the purist
and between the angled ankles of the situationist cabs i am too enthralled by the prospect
of freedom which i am say ving suas pour and will be mine in 4 years of geek encrusted lanky