hjälp
kände mig lite småhostig imorse
småhosta blev storhosta blev hög feber och yrsel
så nu kallsvettas jag under filten
har accepterat mitt öde
kommer skaka ihjäl
25 år. Bor i Lund, Skåne län. Är offline
kände mig lite småhostig imorse
småhosta blev storhosta blev hög feber och yrsel
så nu kallsvettas jag under filten
har accepterat mitt öde
kommer skaka ihjäl
hur ställer ni er till köp av second hand-kläder som är av animalier, ex. yllle eller skinn?
köper ni skor av läder om de är 2nd hand? e lite småkluven i frågan
Citat eller kommentar till varför du blev fryst:
? Du får inte använda sidan för aktiviteter som kan upplevas som stötande, t.ex. hets mot folkgrupp, trakasserier eller mobbning. + off topic
Jine ?
more like ec jag-är-ohygienisk-sliskig-man-i-åldern-20-34-ska-vi-myspysa;)
snälla ta tillbaka "nudes i bloggen"-livesen
de är iaf inte äckliga
Nathalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Nathalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
varje gång du skär i spaghetti skär någon en kattunge i ansiktet
om att jag har en riktig blogg
ge mig uppmärksamhet
ni får säkert ut något av det
http://nouw.com/rebby/fashion-weak-28655245
puss