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| louvin brothers, drunk pic woman, wage and hour, comedy clubs, internet anger, magazine, uncensored, footfetish, 1000, california drunk driving defense attorney, fisting, art director, | For all their sunscreen holidays and water bottles and guidebooks and maps, they were helpless. Michael almost brought his palm pilot, but Eli said, "You are addicted to this machine like drugs." Michael stared at the palm pilot and then tossed it holidays on the bed. The guidebooks irritated Eli especially. "What do you need holidays me for?" he sulked. When the girl wanted to go to Mahaneh Yehuda market, he asked, "You need groceries?" "We don't have markets like yours in the States," she replied, slinging her camera around her neck. "Or in Czech Republic." "Yes, you have. I was there." He blushed as he thought of the Havelska market, where Michael had bought him a miniature clay bird with its wings folded over its eyes. |
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| "I don't knowÉ Forget that. You can't explain why this is wrong. What's wrong with us, with wage and hour you and wage and hour me?" Michael offered his hand, but Eli flinched. "That's great. Thanks a lot. So now what? Do you want to be friends?" wage and hour There was the dirty word: "friends." If one American knew another for five minutes, suddenly he was his "friend" and required to lay down his life for a stranger. Wait one minute more and they'd forget each other's names. "I'm tired," Eli said and put his pillow over his head. Michael tried to pull away the pillow. "What did you expect when I came here?" And what did he expect? Eli thought. To fuck me in the house of my mother? |
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