I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth...
And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say "come dance with me"
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn't all it seems at seventeen...
A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said: "Pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve"
The rich relationed hometown queen
Marries into what she needs
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly...
So remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debitures of quality and dubious integrity
Their small-town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen...
To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
the world was younger than today
when dreams were all they gave for free
to ugly duckling girls like me...
We all play the game, and when we dare
We cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say: "Come on, dance with me"
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me, at seventeen...
She's a Wicked Girl
Worst in all the world
A mystery lies in her
She spends her days
in a violent rage
try as I might
I love her
Everytime the tears run dry
the story goes
what's left behind
shivers like a leaf
taciturn and gentle
it's not hard to believe
The Girlshapedlovedrug
messes with my mind
Don't ask me why,
the Girlshapedlovedrug
messes with your mind
She likes to fight
the whole world bang to rights
yours truly, I'd die for her
The growing pains
dissolve in lemonade
the sweetness flies to her
Every time her temper flares
a storm will blow
what's left's so rare
A fragment of the girl
soft and sentimental
the side she tries not to share
The Girlshapedlovedrug
messes with my head
Don't ask me why,
the Girlshapedlovedrug
messes with your mind
Don't ask me why,
the Girlshapedlovedrug
messes with my mind
When your song is sung
don't let me colour your opinion
that girl's my life, I tell ya
Every time my tears run dry
and the moment's flown
and re-designed
My feelings for the girl
how could I be with out her?
I would surely still find
The Girlshapedlovedrug
messes with my mind
Don't ask me why,
the Girlshapedlovedrug
messes with my mind
Don't ask me why,
the Girlshapedlovedrug
messes with your mind
Don't ask me why,
the Girlshapedlovedrug
messes with my mind
Benefits
As far as why, there are a few basic reasons people may choose to do a sub-incision:
* The procedure can be done for the pleasure of the recipient, as the inside of the penis often feels better than the outside — and even if it's not specifically "better", it definitely exposes more nerves to direct sexual contact.
* It can be done for the pleasure of the recipient's partner — the penis becomes wider and more textured, and can change form slightly during sex. One woman described it as if waves were moving up and down the bottom of her partner's penis during intercourse. In addition, by rubbing the sub-incision over the clitoris, it allows a woman to come "inside" a man's genitals.
* Some people do it for simple aesthetic or fetishistic value, either because they like the way it looks, or for reasons such as the philosophical concept of removing urination from the shaft of the penis (relocating it to the base) makes the penis purely an organ of pleasure.
I have a question regarding this troll page:
http://www.crackyhouse.com/Cracky_Japan.html
Obviously at least some info is true. So my question is if this statement is true or not (the second sentence regarding her heritage)?
'Cracky, who's real name is Olivia, is originally from Oxford, England. She is of British, Spanish and Jewish descent'
5 April 2010 5:00(est.)-5:25
I am in the apartment at A. I get up from bed, out of my room. Lucid, and with a towel draped around me, I hover past the hallway railing, softly touching down on the floor below.
I walk out the front door and into the apartment compound: some things are not as they are in waking life. The place seems sparse, empty.The building in front of me is missing its windows. The gate is of a rusty orange, and the sky and unnatural shade of charcoal gray.
And yet, everything seems clear and solid, real, as the concrete steadfast under my feet. I close my eyes and spin once; for a split second, the world twists out of shape and begins to fade, but then it bounds back again, still vivid, unchanged. I am satisfied. I turn left, further into the compound, where in place of the neighbor's parking space are two traffic islands, filled with raw earth. On each digs a worker, in blue jeans, a white tank top, and a white hard hat. I walk up to one of them, and he turns to me.
'What do you need?' he asks.
'I want a Cracky.'
'A Cracky?' he promptly picks up a large rock and props it against the curb beside me. 'This will do.'