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| tv, x files, freegroup sex pics, book reviews, daily, paperback, raimi, fat people picture, daily box office, chubby girl, hardcore black bbw, fat teen pic, database, chubbyteen, sister fucking brother, excellent, fattit, and, tv shows, music, | "At least give me chubby italian teen a week. I can chubby italian teen find a place in a week." Faye is swirling the ice in her ever-present highball, chubby italian teen poking at the cubes with her bejeweled fingers. "Fine. A week." Faye cocks her head back and takes a long look at me. "Thank you." I oblige. The ice cubes flutter around the glass excitedly as her hands shake with glee . . . glee or the first stages of liver failure. Fingers crossed for liver failure. "But the bulldozer stays." And then she slams the door. I back away slowly and continue to the street, where my Fancy New Car awaits. For now, the best way to deal with this is not to deal with it at all. I get in my Fancy New Car, leave my soon-to-bedemolished life, and head toward my mom's house, which rests in the hills overlooking the Rose Bowl. Pasadena, a suburb just outside Los Angeles, bursts with scenes straight from the California postcards off the spinning rack. |
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| Note in hand, I ring her doorbell. Faye opens the door daily box office quickly. I know she has been watching daily box office the events of the morning unfold through a crack in her yellowing curtains. "I'm tearing down that back daily box office house," Faye burbles through the metal screen door. "My house? How can you tear down my house?" The note is now wet with my perspiration. The tips of my fingers are starting to turn a grainy lime-green color. "In forty-eight hours," Faye says. Even through the metal screen door I can see she is decked out in full regalia. Her whiterimmed sunglasses are perched atop her ratted bottle-blond hair. She is wearing her usual floral, skirted bathing suit, folds of tanned, leathery flesh cascading out top and bottom. "You can't kick me out in forty-eight hours. I've got nowhere to go." I have my hand on the cold, metal screen door. "Maybe you and your little dog can live in that Fancy New Car of yours." Faye gestures out toward the street with her mass of teased hair. |
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