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Magnolia

To the man who caught me trying to do take a shit in my alleyway I realize I am stupid to even write this post and even against the advice of my good friends who I just spoke with, I am just going to do it. For weeks now you and I have been talking a lot, only small conversations really. For example, I know you are from Michigan and drive a Jeep . Either way, we have definately shown an interest and were due to get a beer for one the Bears game (your idea). We would have such conversations when walking down our alleyway to out joint apartments and once we got in a conversation for over two hours about the good and bad regarding racism. Not to be graphic, but I have decided on just laying out what happened last night between our impromptu meeting. I want you to see it from my perspective. If you can try to do that but still feel you can't see me as a potential partner for you, then that's fine. Quite simply after going for a late night jog to help delay what I will the arrival of Mother Rojo or otherwise known as Aunt Flow, Red Storm, etc., I lost my keys. It was late and raining slightly. I looked all around and cringed when thinking that I left my cell in my very inaccessible 4th apartment. Eventually, I was able to borrow someone's and for the off building manager (who was not happy) to let me in. He said it would take around 45 minutes and I said fine, whatever. Alone again, I stood under a weak ledge as to protect myself from a wedge and tried to meditate and let the time pass. I won't lie. I even was hoping you might show up. But then suddenly my started to brew up some noises, sounding no different than a garbage disposal full of food. You see, those sounds indicated that I had to shit and really really bad. At first I tried to meditate again like we do in Yoga, but as I breathed out slow, my misinterpreted the action for a greenlight in letting the dumpage proceed as if I was on the toilet. I was in pain and I was too. It was so clear to me that just based on these abrupt reaction that I was going to have to fucking shit in the alleyway and in the next few minutes or either suffer a stroke or throw up poop. One of the two, def not both. As I ran over to a corner, I was sure I could dump it out quickly, blame it on the nice old man who sells Streetwise Magazines in the area, and repress the memory with a combination of and getting up on that D you hide so well in your sweatpants. It was to be a quick process and the would help inadvertainly wash it away. Seated next to a dumpster, which is ironic I know, I kept watch to my right for there isn't any other way to access our alley from the left of where I was sitting. With the evacuation just about complete, I exhaled slowly and thought of as most women do when they get done shitting (yes, we are weird). I kept my yoga pants down and decided to use the leaky gutter that shot out a funnel of water as a make shift Bidet (which is French for butt hole cleaner). Believe it or not, this was actually quite successful. I was so clean than I decided that a shower wasn't exactly essential. I was happy and thought of again, realizing I only had about roughly 5 more minutes before my building manager was due to show up. As I began to walk away from the scene of the , I viewed a substance falling before me on the asphalt. It was you throwing up for your second balcony. 'Hey you, how long were you there?' I asked, hoping to God you had just walked out. 'Aww are you ok? You should get some soup, hunny,' I added to approximate a caring spouse. 'Fuck you. You shit in out alley, you bitch,' you said while pointing at me. You weren't yelling, but were talking to me with great disappointment. 'No. That was the Streetwise guy who did that. I swear on my tits and even ,' I replied. 'Want me to invite me up? You don't really think I just shit in your alley, do ya? I'm a woman.' 'You're not a woman your'e a maniac and an alleyway ruining, mother fucker. How dare you shit like that when you know they are debating whether or not to raise our assessments? What if some dog walks by and eats that and then dies? Then what? Do you have no soul?' All of this you asked as you looked down on me below. The hit us both and for a minute we were silent. 'Well if a dog eats my poop or whoever's poop that is rather, and then dies, them fuck em. Life goes on. Did you want to get a beer for the game like we talking about earlier?' 'Fuck You and Frick Off,' you said, right before shutting your door, leaving me in the cold. Give me another shot. I like you and don't want to let our potential connection to awry because some streetwise guy shit in our alley. Write me back soon, Women want casual sex Ferris Texas
Loretta
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