I have a boyfriend, he’s 30 and he’s afraid of marriage like a fire. With all this, he can not be alone for a long time (not that without sex, but just one in the apartment), so he brings to himself new girls on PMJ (and, infection, all such quiet and economic takes, no matter how the other man would head in vain, once in the ZAGS is not going). It will live for six months, then say goodbye. In a month, a new lead. Yesterday I greeted his passion. in response:
And now, Olga is retired.
I: What is it?
Q: I go home, and she laughs, and says, look into the kitchen closet. Well, I went in, and there, on top of the closet, a scotch-plated paper was glued. I read, and the heresy is, fuck, a whole instruction, how to live with me.What I love, what I don't like, what I can't say, my habits!Even it is written where I throw my socks. I have an emergency phone.
It is a useful thing.)
Fuck it, it is useful! On top of the laminate is written another handwriting:"Nothing will help anyway!And my mom’s old phone is fixed on the new one.
What does Olga have to do with it?
Q: Yes, you understand, this "monument for the care of Kostika", judging by the old number, is a lot of years. That is, each found it when cleaning, took note, and left it in place, even recorded its own. And Olya found, and told me, also a hiccala. He burned everyone who was before her. No female solidarity, how can we trust it?
I: What did I do with the paper?
Q: I wrote what beer I love, and left it in the same place