W o u l d Y o u . . . ♥

Kiss Me?
Meet Me?
Hug Me?
Fuck Me?
Let Me Sleep In Your Bed?
Stand Up For Me?

C a n I . . . ♥

Kiss You?
Tickle You?
Marry You?
Sleep With You?

A M I . . . ♥

Loveable?
Fuckable?
Nasty?
Kind?
A Good Friend?
Gf/Bf Material??
Pretty?
Beautiful?

H a v e Y o u... ♥

Kissed Me?
Met Me?
Seen Me?
Hung Out With Me?
Had A Dream About Me?
Got My Number?
Fucked Me?

D o Y o u . . . ♥

Love Me?
Hate Me?
Fancy Me?
Miss Me Right Now?
Talk To Me?

A r e Y o u . . . ♥

Gonna Ask Me Out?
Ask For My Number?
Talk To Me Again?
Miss Me When You Dont See Me?
Put This On Your Blog?

a n d b e f o r e y o u g o . . .♥

a n y t h i n g t o s a y ? x

A father passing by his son's bedroom, was astonished to see
the bed was nicely made, and everything was picked up. Then, he saw an
envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow. It was addressed, 'Dad.'
With the worst premonition, he opened the envelope and read the letter,
with trembling hands.

'Dear, Dad. It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing
you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend, because I wanted to avoid a
scene with Mum and you.

I've been finding real passion with Stacy, and she is so nice,
but I knew you would not approve of her, because of all her piercing's,
tattoos, her tight Motorcycle clothes, and because she is so much older
than I am.

But it's not only the passion, Dad. She's pregnant. Stacy said
that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods, and has a
stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many
more children.

Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't,
really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves, and trading it
with the other people in the commune, for all the cocaine and ecstasy we
want.
In the meantime, we'll pray that science will find a cure for
AIDS, so Stacy can get better. She sure deserves it!

Don't worry Dad, I'm 14, and I know how to take care of myself.
Someday, I'm sure we'll be back to visit, so you can get to know your
many grandchildren.

Love, your son, Joshua.

P.S . Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Sam's house.
I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the
school report that's on the kitchen table.

Call when it is safe for me to come home