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thenameofaction's Journal
Created on 2008-08-23 13:59:43 (#16425760), last updated 2009-08-10
57 comments received, 133 comments posted
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Basic Info| Name: | thenameofaction |
|---|
BioI'm married:
emmelinep
abigail-nicole
we live in an aging victorian house on the atlantic seaboard, and find ourselves inundated with a continual stream of guests and old friends. we live in paris, slumming and writing awful plays about being socially meaningless and living above a cafe. we live in luxury, hobnobbing with the wealthy and eating mcdonald's in our bentleys when nobody's looking. we're dead. we live in russia, and the year is 1935, and we're talking communism and sex over thick, black cups of coffee. we're your mother's friends, the ones in pastel sweaters and bermuda shorts who play tennis and sleep with other people's husbands. we are an elite group of highly-trained bioterrorists, intent on destroying the global socipolitical-economic infrastructure. we're the humane society. we're hookers, saints, salesmen, giraffes. we're that guy who stepped on your foot on the bus but was kind of cute and apologized and took you to dinner and fucked you like he meant it and never called back.
full of shit? but, of course.
emmelinep
abigail-nicole
we live in an aging victorian house on the atlantic seaboard, and find ourselves inundated with a continual stream of guests and old friends. we live in paris, slumming and writing awful plays about being socially meaningless and living above a cafe. we live in luxury, hobnobbing with the wealthy and eating mcdonald's in our bentleys when nobody's looking. we're dead. we live in russia, and the year is 1935, and we're talking communism and sex over thick, black cups of coffee. we're your mother's friends, the ones in pastel sweaters and bermuda shorts who play tennis and sleep with other people's husbands. we are an elite group of highly-trained bioterrorists, intent on destroying the global socipolitical-economic infrastructure. we're the humane society. we're hookers, saints, salesmen, giraffes. we're that guy who stepped on your foot on the bus but was kind of cute and apologized and took you to dinner and fucked you like he meant it and never called back.
full of shit? but, of course.
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