|
Back in 1982, I met this chick at a bar called Annie Oakleys in Georgetown.....She was a student...we went to her place and things were getting pretty heavy....I noticed this smell but quite couldn't get a grasp of it....
As I started to dive down her torso a little closer to her pot of gold, it bacame quite apparent what that foul smell was. Instead of being a pot of gold, it was more or less a cannery with the odor of dead fish.
Before you ask, No I didn't hit it.
__________________
We are what we repeatedly do.-Aristotle
|