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Not her boyfriend. And yes, I know I'm late on the subject at hand, but fuck off, better late than never



boyfriend, ice prowler, whatever she wants to call him, this intersect and commingling of slavic and eskimo legacies produces the kind of societal ripple so profound that it reinvents and transforms - a modern day Bering bridge reconnecting Siberian ancestries; a celebration of Darwinian importance. In other words throw a baseball cap and some axe body mist on our main man from the bering straits and Ava's doing the backstroke in bed. brings a tear to the eye, really.

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Damnit. I don't know why I keep coming back to this beautiful shit hole of a forum



"why" is the very same subconscious mechanism that drives girls (A) into the dark and sleazy arms of bad boys (B). this occurs within the same part of the brain responsible for the chain of events where Benjamin Bratt is compelled to Tijuana every 8 months (or so) by some invisible force, and proceeds to wander a place he doesn't know yet seems so strangely familiar. then he gets drunk, overwhelmed by feelings he wants to ignore. feelings he's tried to ignore. feelings he cannot ignore. "why am I here?" the next morning he feels fine again. he buys one of those rainbow colored blankets and heads home, wholly convinced he'll never return. but he will.

footnote: jimmy smitts is similarly haunted by this internal conflict.