My thoughts drift back to erect nipple wet dreams about Mary Jane Rottencrotch and the Great Homecoming Fuck Fantasy. I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I'm in a world of shit . . . yes. But I am alive. And I am not afraid.
I'm pretty sure being able to do the splits is more useful than learning Italian. I tried to learn Spanish once but it took me a whole month in Peru and another in Bolivia to realise that speaking with my voice raised and in a Spanish accent was not actual Spanish. Claire, I think your right on this one.
I met this guy before, and his brother. His hands were as big as tennis rackets and one of his arms was roughly the same size as Tom Cruise in the film Mission Impossible. He could easily rip a medium size cow in half and he'd probably taste a little bit of it. Id be shitting it if that was sent to me.