My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.
Friday, September 11, 2009
PInk.....white or dark???
it has been a long 10 months...who wants to shower first?
1 comment:
Yo! Are you back mike?
Post a Comment