*As in "Welcome to" and where "Gator Country"
means "Los Angeles"

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›post #37
›bio: mina

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›that week


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barely legal

Gator Country: sven
six four, wire-rim spectacled, corn fed, kamikazee pool player.

six four. 75% swedish, 25% norweigan. ladies, step aside. if he was a tree, i'd climb him and stage a hunger strike. and threaten to shoot anyone who came near.

i confirmed he grew up on milk, like me. anyone that healthy makes me naturally think dirty thoughts. i drank the coldest, biggest glass of milk i could get my hands on today. i got milk. lots of it. milk mustached mina-lita, that's me. little dirty thirsty child in her bobby socks ravenous after an early morning swim gulping down her milk in low, hungry, echoing pants. good thing i'm not lactose intolerant.

what am i not saying? (that maybe he flew out to portland last minute, last weekend? that he was so damn hot on a saturday morning, i couldn't get out of bed till 4? that i could wrap and writhe myself up and around him like a snake in Eden?)

lies. all lies.

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i want to be an underpants gnome eat! f***! burn!