Emo Boy And Girl Kissing…OOOh Little Tweeny Pop!

It was a dark and gray Thursday night. The rain fell as tiny droplets from the heavy clouds, and the air smelled almost winter, despite the fact that it was kissing the emo boy and was in late July. Past Burfjord, a winding road, there was a small brown house with a soltårn. Inside the house sat Wild Chef and Matti lacquer, and discuss world problems over a glass of whiskey. Today was kissing the emo boy and was perhaps the world’s problems a little more of the local variety, rather than the global as most of the effort.

Cigarette capitalization was high, and even if Matti lacquer regarded as a rather raw and drank, she was kissing the emo boy and was a wimp compared to wild-chef himself. After two glasses, his eyes and began to focus on things that simply did not have any focus value in all. Wild Chef, however, screamed and talked merrily while the kitchen cloth swayed around like a flag in strong winds. At one time or another was a frying pan in the corner, and eggs were served. Matti lacquer was always wondering, “Why will not the wild chef let me mix the whiskey with orange juice”, as the whiskey tasted about the emo boy and about the same as when you pickled a kitchen of oak in diesel, and allow it to soak in a barrel in seven to eight months before it is served hot.

While wild chef took a smoke and yoiked from upstairs, decided Matti lacquer to write a blog post told in 3 person. Wild Chef had said firmly that it was an insult to Mattilakkens readers that she was kissing the emo boy and was not blogging when she was heavy. Matti lacquer believed that blog, strictly speaking ONLY to be entertaining, and not by depressive character.

A guest writer! The undersigned Wild Chef sounds (by choice) the name Berit Kaasen Bjørnholt. The top of my CV consists of the fact that I am the grand niece of the world’s most famous dog! Do not you know kem the world’s most famous dog? Good for you that we have Wikipedia then! Hihi Otherwise, I have today received confirmation message from my emo boy kiss hormone tests, which is the local medical center. All imaginable and unimaginable human hormones in my body is at the top level! I can stand, 10 years of menopause (menopause) is a fact! When it was set in an assume that it would be Nokka the like puberty, only more reflective. It turned out to be both correct and incorrect – it is much more intense than puberty, but less thoughtful! Jao, so now know I that my urge to kick the old man out of his bunk with a nasty slap against the wall, followed by jumping on the noble parts, milling and extensive profanity, at least to some extent can be explained by a body chemistry that in the past qualified the wars, the supervisor in industry or even dinosaur hunter! Nuvel. It is wonderful to live! let it stand for all time that it is important to be tough than politically correct. So we have a common basis for future experiences and personal development! Keep yoy countru tidy “, quote good old Wrighley! Wild Chef, over and out! Now we’re going out in the woods up in the trees, feel the leaves between your toes, I will take care of Matti lacquer for dolls! See you :)

Today I have been trained. One must begin quietly, so I was kissing an emo boy first I trained back and arms, and 6 months later, that today, I trained legs. If no results are starting to show up soon, so I must resort to steroids. Or silicone. When I was kissing the emo boy and was little, I read in a magazine donald in a small fact that a bubble sumobryter that was too low to compete, were implanted silicon on top of the head, so I was kissing an emo boy he was a few centimeters higher. Drastic action is required apparently to go far.

I have read that exercise triggers endorphins. The same substance that is released when you are in love. I wonder if it is triggered as soon as you exercise, so it gets a bit like “Cupid’s arrows” effect, so the first thing you open your eyes and look at is the one you love is in. For many big guys I’ve ever seen of exercise, is to admire herself in the mirror, taking pictures in all sorts of positions, and are very keen to take on themselves. Perhaps it is so that when they lift up the first manual / weight / whatever and see his eyes in the mirror while they draw a deep breath to push a bit, then raging endorphins into the body to send the person into a self- Ecstasy no one else can give them.

my emo boy kiss life is a little like a tragic Bridget Jones parody. The number of pounds I want to go down, the number of cigarettes smoked per my day in my emo boy kiss half-hearted attempts to quit, and my despair over the opposite sex. I myself, is a hopeless romantic-comedy-thriller-drama-action-thriller that gets me to want grønsje head through the nearest bench at times.

I was kissing the emo boy and was able to arrange a solarium in the attic here in my emo boy kiss house, to my current provider’s delight! It’s a little funny, but scary cancer-causing and have a solarium in the attic.
It is a rather old solarium, and to get it up the stairs in this house, it had to be picked from each other. Now it’s a little rikkel-like, and since I did not have the patience to wait until it was finished, it will be safe to be just like the next 20 years. There were no shocks on the top so I was kissing an emo boy that it is far too heavy to lift up, and you get claustrophobic horror twitching of limbs and body openings to close it again, without putting anything between to keep the upper part of a safe distance with respect to gloheite solrør and of human desire. Perspex album is cracking at the base, so if one moves without thinking about when you lie on it, tan soon be the last you reach to achieve in life, as you bleed to death over 10 over-heated tanning tubes located to half cook the surface.

But I’ve tried it two days in a row now, and today I got lots of freckles. I get freckles from being in a lot of sunshine, something I’ve always hated. Grandma used to ask me if I was soaking me through a tea strainer, so when I was kissing the emo boy and was a teenager at the age I was never close to the sun. I was involuntarily a Goth look with my dark hair and pale skin, and the fear of separating me too much, made me dressed in dark clothing. I actually looked like an idiot now when I think about the emo boy and about it.