esmeraalda. she smelled like angels ought to smell. the perfect woman. the goddess. she said her name was esmeraalda. and 50 euro is a bargain for a brush with heaven.
that means please in turkish. good god. heart be still, that daughter of cypriot aphrodite has my salzburg bough bedight in salty diamonds. inshallah, hic possunt, nyet gule gule. lend me the strength, oh hepheastos, to win her hand as you won her mother's, and may i have your wisdom to laugh, forgive, and overcome. opa!
DV squad leaves my house with pictures of fingernail scratches across my chest and my ex-girlfriend in cuffs, and i says to myself, is this my whitetrash life? really is it?
squishy and squishy and squishy. i haven't looked like my pic in a year. whoever sneaked in while i was asleep and made my heart start working again is a sneakthief varlet whoreson minimus whose sense of humor is the metaphysical equivalent of a dead fetal twin hanging grotesquely from a shoulder.
broke, broke, and broke. if there's one thing to say in favor of girlfriends, it's that they pay for lots of stuff. there has to be another way to make money.