How Does A Hymen Look

square Yard - Unit One, Lesson One Small

fall gradually moved into our gardens.
The colors change, the leaves turn red, brown or golden brown, the chestnut promise nice bellyful of their low calorie fruit (oh my!), the neighborhood cats come back the flowerbeds freshly cleaned, slugs end of joy to their hearts on the news from the garden, in short you comprehending zamis IT IS ... Y is the time when we peel the loaves serious.

I have one desire is to turn me on the stove (not naked!), Wedge myself in the depths of my sofa watching a movie with rose water ( thank you for your Kleenex invention) while I drink a good tea. Not want to pry into the garden quail when things like this in the morning.

I still have the great honor to tell you that for now the garden looks like my plans (vegetation and less obviously).

That there not it beautiful? I'm sure Ours would be green with envy (a pity it is no longer our world, I shall have willingly give some tips ..!)

I am also entitled to assistance trolls home as soon as I try any approach in the garden tool in his hand ...

So I'll have it: find a way to pick up some branches of the hedge bought raspberry, tape a few bags of potting soil, found a pair of shears and a hammer stashed somewhere or queue and arnica at last ... Who said that children were not filled with good intentions huh ???!!

I leave you with some flowers from my garden (especially you, my Miss Tuft, to thank you for choosing my title for your game and you repeat GOOD NANNY anniversary !!!!! !)

nice day everyone!

Taking Shower With Husband

African poem ... for adults!

Because it raining today and slugs would certainly give heart to joy in my flowerbeds, let's be crazy and laugh a little ( lose nothing by waiting those pesky slugs, I just have to furnish a hand on my pruner .. .)

Little Poem Africa

A farmer from Rwanda
Who was Hutu Moreover,
leaves his box and his smala
For the market in Kampala.

She wants to honor his tribe
A beautiful plump and fat capon.
But she was not wealthy,
And the Tutsi trader, shrewd,
refused to lower the price
From capon chosen by it.

you give me the,
Tell the client Hutu
Against a treat
Your lovely Bengali?

to see, "said the dealer,
This treat what is the value?
it would be a capon ?
It'll be the evidence for good.

the darn soon burrowed under the robe,
And quickly brings out the sap of bamboo.

I won the capon, exclaims the innocent
mouth still full of the proceeds of the sale.
Nay 'replied the acerbic poulterer
Like the figure, the capon you lost
For as the proverb says our so beautiful:
turlutes Hutu, Chapon not had !

A nod to Miss Canthus that tells such wonderful stories of princes (drooling) and princesses (2 IQ)!

The story you've read is in no way inspired by true story and elsewhere this poem is not mine! ( too smart, I remember that I'm blonde !)

good day to all

How Do You Know When A Scorpio Does Not Like You

Flashback

At all nostalgic child in this series and all exbitionnistes panties (then scroll an album, you tell me the news!)

Reviewed and corrected so Muscari:

good week!

The Heart Gold Pokemon Sheet

De Profundis

At first I advise you to listen here Chi Mai from Ennio Morricone to put you in the mood. Sorry my blog but refuses to integrate music directly!

Imagine ... there was more laughter of children

Imagine ... a lowering sky sheep (not kidding I am looking rhymes with "year")

Imagine ..... a cold wind rolling over my tights (hi, hi, j'vous've been well, I is not even!)

Imagine ... skies, a few drops of rain falling (then I just amazes me!)

Imagine .... disfigured my beautiful garden with a gaping hole


Imagine .... Mr. Muscari

A man (my man, but not!)

Fort (Mmmmmh)

Beau (OUAhhhhhhhh)

Tender (not like the leek Miss Twig eh?)

crying bitterly on the pool, OUR fucking shit pool of my 2 (Wow, I j'm'égare)

And yes because he has had one day to decide to store this damn expensive pool full of patches . It clings to all these small pieces of transparent glued here and there.
was his charm, his fragility ( what a surprise it was that fragile crap plastoc not roll into a round solid !)

Mr undertook it this weekend. For me it was too hard ... I could not ... (Find yourself an excuse Muscari, viiiite, you find a good excuse ...)

He gutted siphoned (beuark. ... with everything that was lying in the same slugs .... .. .. frankly disgusting too ...). He spread his waters on the fields next door.

This morning it was cleaned, dried, spread on her to make one last hug and he whispers in the patch of the words of love. (I have proof, there)

He folded took him in her arms strong man to carry it to its winter home ( an ordinary cardboard at the bottom of the garage, but no, not us this long to piss pool anyway ...).

And?

And in his arms, that bitch let herself go, she is gone for good impaled on the set of Mr. Pool suicidal Kilucru?!

Appraisal: a hole more ... HOLE too.

Mr. Muscari was not angry, he pulled the pool in his box and threw in the trash. Not until the end ... but it has made us sweat that. Enough ', I swear mucha take quite a layer ...)

End of story.

.....

Until next summer!