Done. Finished. Stop.
Now we just have to disassemble everything and then we'll get it.
This edition of the Feast of the Party of Sticazzi (just to understand that I really care so much, politics) has been incredible, but the new team took the bar blow. With sadness and sgagnando of nervous, but oh well.
Sure, we drank less and had stayed just a little 'more, maybe half would have struggled, however, We can not stay here for combing the dolls, right?
What matters is that you all have enjoyed (some more, some less).
hormone was high as usual (not for nothing, the usual meeting place is called "the Ormonificio"), but no diplomatic incident, though in the end we aware that the tragedy touched a couple of times. Oh, we have not even made a slapping, but not even once. An incredible stuff, really. Better. By contrast, slinguate have followed with impressive frequency, stuff that seemed to be back in high school.
The only note, here, I wanted to do ... is just a trifle, a trinkets from nothing, but anyway ... this is so, let's put it this way: I tell you, I know that you are reading. I know you know me (less than you think, eh), so I know you're there. You get to the profile of FB, so I'm not surprised you're reading. No, I do not do names. I also carefully avoided to give to understand sex, so we really sure.
So. Indi. Strive
.
me I please.
It 's a serious business, but to me it brings a lot of discomfort (and even use the solemn-solemn, a rare commodity).
Just too little, not you bring him home.
But if you must come and fuck on stage concert, at least throw the condom in the trash, for God
And they say they are touchy.
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