Shoot first, aim later.
My parents used to lock myself and my younger sister outside on Sunday afternoons…in the winter, too! The earliest I can remember was being 7 years old, so my sister was 3! She’d cry and pound on the door, and we were threatened to “go play”, or else! Neighbors turned a deaf ear and never welcomed us in. That hour or so seemed like forever. I hate that memory. To this day I hate Sunday afternoons.
I’m not much of a joiner. Never was…never will be. You need to join things if you want to shine in the popularity circles, if that is your goal.
Clack, clack, clack, ding!
I’ll take a couple pairs of the stretch jeans, with narrow legs, and short hemmed, please.
It’s the “DING!” at the end of each row that gets them.
Thank you. It sure had me stumped, and I’ll bet a few others, too.
What does, “Do I have to stick the dismount?”, mean?
I like her hair-do. She always seems to have a hidden hairdresser in those dressing rooms.