Hot men. Cute animals. on Joanna, a fetching Girton girl, smelling of old money and country houses, came between them. She failed to grasp that Murdochs insults were a desperate form of courtship and so did Joshua, at the time. He hit it off with Joanna and called at Murdochs rooms to ask if he might have the run of the place for the afternoon. Certainly, Murdoch said stiffly, and when Joshua returned with Joanna he found that he had left them a bottle of Australian sherry and an envelope with Joshuas name on it. Inside there was a nasty note. Murdoch had also contrived to disconnect the gas fire, something Joshua reproached him for when he caught up with him later at Morleys. Never mind that. Hot men. Cute animals. 2016.
Hot men. Cute animals.
We have money. Okay. What do leather pants run, anyway?
A fatalist might embrace the coming decline by driving long distances to look at leaves in, say, New England this time of year. Not you, not yet. Leaves are still for piling up, jumping into, and, finally, lighting on fire for to stink up the neighborhood. Also: Let us honor Squirrel Awareness week with a little rat poison mixed into some peanut butter wait, did we write that or just think it?
at ten because “it’s a school night.” What’s next, church? Well, yes: Kieran, who used to nurse a dozen Millers on a slow day, is shopping theisms. Scariest of all, we are jogging around the neigh borhood with heart monitors (I), becoming vexed whenever the aroma (no, stench!) of a cigarette wafts our way, snapping at people who bicycle on the sidewalk. Look, we know every generation thinks it’s the first to discover the idea of growing up and getting worried and you know what? It is Let us wave farewell to the fancy free days over a succession of Dark & Stormys, the official drink of Bermuda (just one month left in hurricane season there, whereas our misery has just be gun): 2 oz Gosling’s Black Seal rum over ice in a highball; top with Barritt’s ginger beer and the Leather pants, handguns, a sudden interest in Thai stick you think they’re bad? Desperate, yes, but are they any worse than the things done by our crowd, which is sud denly, inexplicably, taking this midlife thing to the opposite extreme? Phil and Janice moved to Los Angeles to become moguls and to man ufacture children; of course, you gotta quit smoking there, and now they’re bedding down .
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