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The Rules
Posted:Feb 2, 2017 6:55 am
Last Updated:Nov 21, 2020 1:10 pm
35024 Views

An update to the rules. I've become a bit hesitant to continue to blog here, so most of my new content is elsewhere. Message me and I'll share the link. search, that's where you'll find me.

Another blogger, who I respect, recently said to me, ‘your blog, your rules.’ Unfortunately, it seems I need to put some of those rules in place.

Before we get to those, I'll mention that I blog for my own pleasure. I enjoy sharing some of the lessons I’ve learned over the course of my life and hope I bring value to my readers, whether it be through providing new information or causing them to think about something in a different way than they had before. That when they finish reading one of my posts, they don’t feel as though they’ve wasted their time. Blogging can obviously also serve as a cathartic outlet.

I put a great deal of effort into making each entry as coherent and easy to read as possible and rarely degenerate into rants. My goal is to provide the reader with an interesting, coherent, post that doesn’t feel like a slog to make their way through. This desire for quality becomes rather time consuming as I edit and rewrite each post. For example, I probably put 12 hours into my Dating In Your 40’s post.

It should make sense, then, that I write about things of interest to me and about things I’d want to read about. If I'm not interested in the topic, I won't want to put the effort into writing about it. Therefore, while I strive to be as transparent in what I write about, I don’t share everything that’s transpired between posts. This isn't a diary for me.

With the above in mind, some helpful suggestions:
Unless I specifically refer to something I’ve previously written, each post should be considered a stand-alone item. Just because I didn't share getting treated for the syphilis I'd mentioned previously doesn't mean I've still got it.

The timing of a post bears absolutely no correlation with respect to the events recounted within. It may have been something I’d previously written, but only now decided to finish editing. Hell, it may be a topic that I’d forgotten about, but came boiling back to the surface, after I discovered a potato chip that looked eerily like Haley Joel Osment.

Now, to the rules I promised:
Comments are welcome, whether you agree or disagree with what I’ve written. I’m always up for a lively debate and not afraid of being proven wrong.

If you think my writing style is crap, feel free to share your opinion, along with how you’d improve it.

However, there are comments that won’t be tolerated. These include:
- Argumentative and pointless diatribes

- Informing me what I was ‘really trying to say’ and reference previous posts that I didn’t indicate should be considered in the current one. Ya know, I’m fairly sure I know what point I was attempting to convey.

- Debating a topic unrelated to my post

- Comments that are meant to be insulting or are mean spirited.

Some of the above will simply get your comment deleted, but being a jerk will get you banned.

If you can’t be kind, be gone.
0 Comments , 3 Pending
I Don't Date Men
Posted:Dec 28, 2017 7:44 pm
Last Updated:Jan 20, 2019 7:47 pm
22354 Views

An important point I pinned to my other blog and thought it might be of value here as well.

More than a few readers have made the comment that I'm hard on women, that they're constantly the targets of my dating entries. I can absolutely see where may draw that conclusion. I've poked fun at women's dating profiles, the loony behavior of s I've dated, and been particularly hard on certain women.

In reality, I'm equally tough on every. I it as I see it, with very few exceptions, even raking myself over the coals, when appropriate. And trust me, I love women. In fact, I've learned more about how to truly love some over the past , than in my way too many prior. However, by its very nature, my blog will only include my experiences with women. The reason is very simple.

I don't date men.

Furthermore, as bloggers, we tend to write about experiences that have either hurt us, confounded us, or truly shaped us. For me, it's a means to gain a better understanding of what transpired or exorcise it altogether. 'I had a nice date with a lovely woman and plan to see her again' doesn't typiy require either of those actions.

Back to the topic at hand.

I don't date men.

For that reason, I don't read men's dating profiles, so I don't see the garbage they put on them. Despite women recounting the crap that men write, no man's profile will ever appear in the DPOW.

Because I don't date men.

It would also follow then, that I have no experiences in dating men. And I only write about things I'm intimately familiar with. From what I've read and been told by others, men are just as rewy, when it comes to dating. Hell, from what I know, I'd consider that to be somewhat of a given. But I can't say for certain, because...

I don't date men.

So, I apologize if it sometimes seems that I'm brutal, when it comes to the fairer sex. You'll have to trust that I don't go around seeking opportunities to bash women. But again, no experience with anything else, because...I think you get it.
0 Comments
For The Love of Dog
Posted:Nov 24, 2020 7:07 pm
Last Updated:Nov 25, 2020 10:32 am
234 Views
Those who've read my earlier posts know I'm a huge lover. I had dogs growing up, all the way until my marriage ended. While I haven't had a of my own for the past decade, I got my fix volunteering at the Richmond SPCA. If you've read my most recent posts, you know that I've taken in my parents' dog. Sadie is a catahoula mix and white as the driven snow, with these amazing blue eyes. My parents rescued her a few years ago and she's quite literally saved me.

And I get that I sound as though I've discovered something that was obvious everyone else and should have been obvious . That some readers are making goofy faces and saying 'Duh!'. Obviously, I'm going explain, or this would be a pointless entry.

Again, if you've read some of my more recent posts, you know I've had some incredibly challenging times with my parents, recently. Being an only , single, and in a strange land, I've been forced shoulder the burden alone. While my Iceman mask remains unmelted and I really am quite adept at dealing with things and moving on, I'd be some sort of sociopath (okay, a worse one) not feel a bit untethered, battered, and alone.

Even before my parents imploded, the solitude imposed by the pandemic had induced mild circling that ultimately leads the death spiral of mental health.

Every day, Sadie reminds me what unconditional love feels like and I've smiled more since becoming her than in the previous combined. I've never had a who wants nothing more than be close . make that easier for her, I bought her a second bed that I put in my office. Her favorite thing in the world is when I get on the floor with her, so she can snuggle and receive copious amounts of pets. She's the most affectionate I've ever had. Every time I lean down pet her, she responds as though I'd been gone for a week, even if it's only been minutes. As you can see in the picture below, she also considers my doing pushups in my gym downstairs as the perfect opportunity snuggle.

At the moment, Sadie is snoring away in her crate, a few feet from my kitchen table, where I'm typing this. And I wouldn't give her up for the world.
6 Comments
Tenacity and the Subcontinent of Africa
Posted:Nov 23, 2020 6:02 pm
Last Updated:Nov 24, 2020 7:11 pm
371 Views

One of the scammers called me tonight. I have to say it shocked the hell out of me, considering the tale I'd woven to them.

Backing up a week or so, I decided to bid adieu to the cast of characters from HSBC, Bank of Dubai, Interpol, the internet mistress, and 'lawyer who keeps an eye on these things'. I informed them that I was unhappy they scammed my father out of % of the family estate, but more angry at him. Because I don't tolerate such weakness, I killed my father, left my mother homeless, and took possession of the remaining (fictional) $9 million. Of course, I called them all goatfuckers one last time and noted how much their scam looked like it had been put together by idiots after a head trauma.

Did that stop them? Of course not! One of the characters, who I never did get a read on what role he played, demanded proof my father was dead and threatened to go to the authorities. I replied that someone of his stature doesn't demand anything of me, that the body was fed to the Florida alligators, and come and get me.

Internet mistress feigned outrage and told me I'd spend the rest of my life in prison. She was told to come and get me as well.

Then, there was the 'trustworthy woman' at a bank, Nevin Ali, who invited me to visit her country so that I could take the I was entitled . Fucking bankers! I asked what country I would be traveling and she replied 'Dubai'. She attached her 'official ID' as proof of her legitimacy. I'd entertained fucking with them a bit longer, but I can only pretend be so stupid. First, Dubai isn't a country and second, the ID would be a failing grade for first grade art class. I swear they used the lowest resolution bank logo in existence. Both of these I shared with the scammer. I received some bullshit reply, but it was even more of an embarrassment for them.

One nice little touch was they set up a LinkedIn profile for Nevin Ali. Unfortunately for them, it confirms there is no Nevin Ali at that bank, because she only has one connection. For those not on the platform, LinkedIn, it's almost worse than in that everyone wants connect with you, so only having one connection is a dead giveaway this person doesn't exist.

Needless say, all the emails were g mail, , or other free service.

Despite my silence, they remained undeterred; I still received a few emails today. But I'm not bothering to engage anymore.

Which leads to the phone call, which was from a number they spoofed from NJ. When I answered, it took so long for someone to speak that I thought it was a telemarketer robocall. Finally, a deep voice asked if he was speaking to me. Because I'm a kind soul, I said yes and what do you want? Speak! He identified himself as Michael (one of the cast of characters from the scam) and he wanted to speak with my father. I asked him how fucking dumb he was and what part of I killed him didn't he understand. My performance must have been convincing, because he seemed to be taken aback by my admitting to murder. So, I filled the time by asking if he sucked dic His response was an almost comical and indignant denial. (better scammers ignore such questions) No, I bet you suck a mean dick when you're not fucking goats, don't ya? I began another round of insults when he hung up.

First, I have say I expected scammers be smoother on the phone; that was apparently where they did the most manipulation with my father. But this guy was fucking Ethiopian rain man. Second, the cast of characters were all allegedly located in either the UK or the Middle East. This guy's accent placed him firmly in the subcontinent of Africa, which should shock no one.

Yep, they're tenacious little goatfuckers!
4 Comments
A Poll for Women - Lingerie
Posted:Nov 21, 2020 4:45 pm
Last Updated:Nov 23, 2020 10:11 am
632 Views

I freely admit loving my partner dressed in lingerie for the bedroom, whether it be classy and seductive, hot and sexy, or absolutely trashy. Hell, I keep a small cache for spontaneous enjoyment. From conversations I've had with the women I've been intimate with, I've been surprised discover that most women enjoy it just as much as men. Of course, during that period, I was also learning that objectifying a woman, in the proper context of course, was frequently welcome or even desired. (You like when I tell say I enjoy following you into a room because your ass is so amazing?) But I digress. If you follow the logic trail, it all falls into place. I buy something I know my partner will look hot in and she does, my desire for her becomes more raw and urgent, which she can sense. That makes her feel wanted and lusted after. A good time is had by all.

Who buys the lingerie is where some differences arise. Some of the women I've had the pleasure of enjoying did the choosing and purchasing. They enjoyed putting themselves on display as a surprise, for their partner. Others wanted me to pick outfits out for them, or dress them up. However, all of them found my purchasing lingerie for them to be a positive. They indicated it showed thoughtfulness and made them feel special. Plus, it's the perfect touch of dominance to say 'here, put this on'. There was one woman...we'll save that for another time. To me, it's really a win win.

What somewhat shocked me was the number of women who informed me that none of their previous partners dressed them up. When I asked if they'd enjoy a partner doing that, the universal answer was an enthusiastic yes.

So, for the women, I'm curious whether my sample represents the greater population of the fairer sex, on the topic of lingerie. For the men, the takeaway is go buy your woman something sexy. Oh, and stop trying to eat corn chips off her ass; the blue cheese dip is a bit much.
I buy my own, thank you, and your assistance isn't required
I have my own, but welcome you dressing me up
I'll only wear what you pick out for me
The only lingerie I own is what I bought for myself
If my body doesn't turn you on without that crap, too bad
6 Comments , 17 votes
An Amazing Compliment
Posted:Nov 21, 2020 1:45 pm
Last Updated:Nov 21, 2020 2:50 pm
470 Views

Someone from my past reached out to me recently and gave me the most genuine, if head swelling, compliment. I've previously written about her in the epic, thrilling posts The Reference Fuck, and Cum On My Tits, A Love Story. We were talking the other night and were both feeling a bit frisky, so there was a bit of phone play. I directed her to touch herself in the ways I knew she liked and said horrible things to her. The compliment came in the chat after.

She told me that I had taught her more about her body and what brings her the most pleasure than she ever could have been able to on her own.

It was certainly nice to hear, considering I can feel my skills atrophy more by the day, here in Kansas in a pandemic.

Here's hoping you're lucky enough to be learning more about your partner's body and how to pleasure him or her, this weekend.
1 comment
8 Weeks in Hell; Wait, Make It 9...Someone Just Kill Me!
Posted:Nov 1, 2020 4:20 pm
Last Updated:Nov 2, 2020 2:33 pm
1288 Views
Now that I have a few minutes myself, I thought I'd highlight some of the fun I've had since September. Read previous entries see how we got here, with me downsizing and moving my parents Kansas.

The Move
Long story short, I did my best to juggle my professional responsibilities with getting my parents streamlined and ready to move. I failed at both. My parents were absolutely no help; zip, nada. Just the opposite. My mother wanted to take fucking everything. And every time I brought up the little point of 'you're moving from 3,000 sq ft to 1,, so you can't fit that', my mother's response was 'we'll find a place for it'.

Because I couldn't fly the dog (her aerodynamics suck), yours truly made the 23 hour trip from Florida, driving said dog. Said was an amazing little trooper and because of logic, she's become mine. Didn't want a dog, but she's awesome and a great companion.

We arrived the day before my parents were due fly in, so I took the opportunity to sleep in my own bed, if only for one night. (it had been over three weeks) I collected them at the airport and the fun began, starting with me going from living in their guest bedroom to living in my own.

The Steak
Having my parents live with me, in a word, sucked. I'll share one story that sort of encapsulates the whole experience. I had procured three fairly decent (the highest grade available in KC) ribeyes that I intended to grill for dinner Saturday night. Steaks should be as close to room temperature as possible, when throwing them on the coals; gives you a nice char immediately leading to a consistent medium rare center. So, in the morning, I pulled the steaks, threw some salt on them, sat them on the counter, and went about my business. When I hit the kitchen, later in the day, to prep for dinner, I found the steaks conspicuously absent. Long story short, my father put them back in the fridge so they wouldn't spoil. I was less than pleasant to both parents over the situation, because I take grilling meat very seriously. I tried again the next day, but the steaks had gotten too funky, after two days on the counter.

After a week of hell, their shit showed up on Friday. As expected, the amount of shit that was packed had the apartment busting at the seams. My mother seems to have brought roughly three large moving boxes containing expired food. My father's health had begun deteriorating (I suspected, due to the stress and energy he was burning) and my mother is in full regalia as she reigns as the regal drama queen.

It was with great joy that I shoved them into their semi-functional apartment on a Sunday night. I was awoken the next morning by my mother telling me that my father's condition was even worse and he couldn't get off the floor. Off he went in an ambulance, with me in tow, not far behind. Long story short, he'd apparently taken a header in my house and sloshed his head sufficiently for his brain to begin hemorrhaging pretty badly. Into surgery he went for the benchmark of complex activities, brain surgery. By Thursday, he was better than I'd seen him in months and the hospital released him. It was a bit early, in my opinion (and his brain surgeon), but whatever.

At this point, I was naive enough to think nothing else could happen.

Except, he became incontinent the first night home. After two days of it not getting any better, you guessed it, we went back to the hospital. By that time, I knew that place inside and out. Anyway, they got him stabilized and sent him to a rehab hospital to finish healing and regain his strength. Deep breath; okay, now things are going to even themselves out. Wrong! The fucker called me yesterday morning to pick him up from rehab, which I thought was strange that the call wouldn't come from a medical professional. You guessed it, he discharged himself AMA (against medical advice). We had a brief yelling match in the entry of the rehab place, where I found myself quite close to just kicking the shit out of him for being a dumb fuck. If a nurse wouldn't have been present, all bets would have been off. But the asshat walked out to the car and got in; should have locked it as he walked over. Water, dams, etc.

Sure enough, he came home and feels like shit. My response to his pain and ailments has been 'if only you had access to a facility that had doctors and nurses to address these issues...guess you're fucked.'

On the plus side, their house is under contract, after only two weeks on the market.

I just keep looking at the prize, six months out, that is returning to Richmond.
4 Comments
More Scammers
Posted:Oct 14, 2020 9:56 am
Last Updated:Oct 18, 2020 8:19 pm
1974 Views

Back in Kansas after helping my parents get downsized. More on that to follow later, when I have some time.

While I was with my parents, prepping them for their move, I was shocked by the number of scam phone calls they received. These were after I blocked the assholes from the original set of scams. In the interest of payback on scammers everywhere, I did my best to have a bit of fun with the ones who called.

For example, we received a call from someone claiming to be with the Social Security Administration (actually, two different people over two days), advising that my parents' SS numbers were being used fraudulently and assets could be seized. So, when I asked them to confirm they were with SS, I followed with rapid fire questions.

When was the Social Security Administration founded??? Under what president? Tell me!!!

The woman went on to receive 'What are you wearing? Who's your daddy???'

A demanded the guy tell me if he sucked dick and that he sounded like a major cum chugger.

Another call was from an IT services company who said they were going out of business and were authorized to refund the $500 fee they charged (there was no service). All I had to do was log into an account with personal information and something else that I clipped with another peppering of questions about billing history, last payment, and whether the guy sucked dick or just fucked goats in the country he lived in.

Surprisingly, none of the people stayed on the line long.

But these are more examples of scams that the elderly could easily fall for. My mother was actually engaging the Social Security dick sucker, before I grabbed the phone from her.
7 Comments
The World in Two Parts
Posted:Sep 10, 2020 11:49 am
Last Updated:Nov 14, 2020 8:23 am
3602 Views

Continued below
2 Comments
The Promised Land Beckons
Posted:Sep 3, 2020 6:16 pm
Last Updated:Sep 4, 2020 7:52 am
4033 Views

Last night, I wrote a long ass, maudlin entry about how Kansas is slowly draining the life from my soul and how hopeless I feel, now that I'll be tied here indefinitely as a result of my father's alcohol induced dementia. I was more vulnerable with it than any other entry I've written, disclosing my own mental health challenges that have resurfaced, as a result of living here. In what I thought was a clever homage to Billy Joel, it was titled "Bill, I Believe This Is Killing Me". I wanted to jump off a cliff, but remembered I was in Kansas, where there aren't any, because everything's fucking flat. Then, I stumbled upon a seed of an idea, which has grown to almost full maturity in the past 18 hours. This mostly mature idea is a plan to actually get my ass out of here, as well as the asses of my parents.

At this point, what keeps me here comes down to money. It'll take a bit of it to get the rents and myself moved. While my parents gave theirs away, they do have a fair amount locked away in the form of equity in their house. That'll be unlocked by the end of the year (hopefully) and will be under my exclusive control. My reward for going above and beyond for my parents will be to live on the East Coast again. The way I figure it, they'll want to get the fuck out of here as I do, after they've lived here for a year, so they'll agree to whatever achieves that goal. Obviously, I'll pay my fair share of the move.

And there was light at the end of the tunnel and there was much rejoicing. Guess you'll have to find some vulnerability somewhere else!
5 Comments
Part 2 of Drunkenness, Scammers, and Seven Figures
Posted:Aug 31, 2020 5:08 pm
Last Updated:Sep 2, 2020 10:36 am
4375 Views

To recap from last entry, my drunken, slimy father gave away his life savings to scammers from somewhere in the Muslim world and I was left to put the pieces back together.

Long story short, my father did have a fair amount of money in his checking account, which I immediately took over and moved to an account he can't get to. He actually fought me a bit on that one, at which point I asked him to dig out the power of attorney they signed a few years ago. He apparently had the mental acuity to recognize that I didn't need his permission. Hell, I could have gone to the bank and taken him off his own account! Plus, I reminded him of the terms and conditions of my assistance, which are you do as I say, period.

As it turns out, they thankfully also have a fair amount of equity in their house. Plus social security and his pension. But they have no other option than to downsize into an apartment. Because I don't want them to be on their own any more, I'm moving them to be near me. I told him that because he trusted goatfuckers over his , he's going to die in fucking Kansas. While I'm ranting, my father called me last week, saying the scammers were trying to wire him money and his troubles could be over. That broke the camel's back with respect to any shred of sympathy that may have been hiding somewhere and I went completely nuclear on him. After repeatedly pointing out how the whole fucking thing was a scam PLUS forwarding him a note from the real HSBC that said the statement was bogus. Honestly, if it weren't for my mother, I'd let him rot in Florida.

All of this should give you an idea of what endeavors have occupied my time, recently. Dealing with realtors, looking for living accommodations, throwing things, etc.

Finally, not only has my father fucked himself, he's royally fucked my life as well. You see, COVID has demonstrated to the legion of skeptics that people can be even more productive working from home than in an office building. Having been an independent consultant for five years, I already knew this. I'd already made it clear to my management I had no intention of returning to an office. Regular readers can see where this is headed, which is the realization that holy fuck, I could move back to civilization!!! Just before Dad, I'd been mulling over whether my mental well being was worth the $12k I'd be out of pocket to reverse relocate. But, I could see it...I could see the promised land! Then, my father happened and my bit of happiness was short lived, because now, if I move back, I'd have to cover moving expenses for both my parents and myself, plus deal with the additional complexity. So, my dipshit father not only managed to fuck his own life and that of my mother's, but fucked mine as well. If anyone wants me, I'll be banging my head against the wall in the garage.
3 Comments
Of Dementia, Drunkenness, Scammers, and Seven Figures
Posted:Aug 29, 2020 4:04 pm
Last Updated:Sep 1, 2020 6:14 am
4749 Views
Thankfully, almost no one who reads this knows my true identity, which I guess is sort of the purpose here. That anonymity allows me to share shit that's quite embarrassing.

Ultimately, this one will include a life lesson, followed by a complete rant. I'm breaking it into two entries to make it less of a hump to read. Buckle in for a bumpy ride.

My father in a nutshell - really fucking smart, emotionally stunted, and a drunk. He was a well educated professional and rose from essentially being a clerk up to the C suite. He and my mother have been in Florida for about a decade, living in their exclusive gated community. My relationship with him hasn't always been great, due to the second and third trait I listed above. The last few times I visited, something about him seemed off, as though his mind was losing its sharpness. But I figured it was because he was drunk most of the time...was it alcohol or the onset of dementia?

About a year ago, I received an email from him indicating he and my mother needed to come live with me, because they were out of money. It seems he had lost most of his retirement savings in a investment scam around real estate in Turkey. I got on a plane and found he had just enough to stay in their home. I also made a point of finding out exactly how he had been scammed and was flabbergasted. Every bit of 'official' communication came from the common email domains starting in Y and G. This included the heads of state banks in Turkey and UAE. Once they hit him once, they kept hitting him with stories about how his money had been found and all he had to do was send even more money to get it back. And he blindly sent them over $750k. These fuckers screamed amateur hour. In one instance, my father asked about an email he supposedly received from the Murat Çetinkaya, the governor for Turkey's central bank. Aside from it coming from one of the email domains I mentioned, a quick search found that dude had been sacked by Erdogan two months prior. I couldn't fathom how my father couldn't recognize this shit for what it was, prima facie.

Anyway, I left from our visit and hit him hard with the message of don't give any more money to these people, which he agreed. Since then, I'd been asking him regularly if he'd been in communication with the scammers and he promised that he wasn't. My mother was convinced otherwise and told me so. But her mental acuity isn't exactly stellar, along with her physical health. Plus, this was at the beginning of COVID, so I wasn't about to jump on a plane. Until I got another email about a month ago. You guessed it, his alcohol induced early dementia self sent what money he had left to the scammers and he was about to be homeless...again. He wound up giving seven figures to scammers!!!

While the scammers had gotten slightly more sophisticated, they were still amateur hour. There was an investigator from Interpol on the case, Dustin Scott. However, our boy Dustin was also communicating via the same G email platform and writing using the exact same syntax / vocabulary as the other goat fuckers. Oh, and he was also receiving communication from Nuno Matos, the CEO of HSBC UK, you guessed it, same syntax and vocabulary. Numbnuts sent a statement showing the balance in my father's . Except any moron could look at the document and immediately tell it was bullshit. No bank, outside of perhaps some third world country, puts the CEO's picture on statements. Even more so, they don't spell his name wrong on said statement.

So, I jumped on a plane and did what I needed to do. This may sound callous, but fuck my father. His dementia is the result of his unwillingness to quit drinking. I rode him pretty hard, asking him repeatedly in what universe did he think he was going to get his money back by sending them more money. Going through the communication, the goat fuckers were even trolling him. One piece of comms from HSBC came from Lisa Simpson. Oh, they also threw a woman into the mix, who he sent $30k for a diamond ring because he said he loved her. Worth noting was that her picture was essentially a stock photo of a bimbo. Now, this is a sensitive topic for me, because a few years ago, my father drunkenly admitted to having a ten year affair with a family friend. So, my father is essentially a scumbag, on top of a drunken moron. You may sense some displeasure with this situation on my part. Well, there's a fuck ton of it. And sympathy is reserved for those who get scammed and neither lie to me nor attempt to cheat on my mother.

I'll conclude Part 1 with the life lesson, which is if you suspect one of your family members of dementia, take action. I should have taken over the finances after the first three quarter of a mill, but a) I figured the fuck tard had learned his lesson and b) he would have fought me tooth and nail.

It's a lovely fucking life, isn't it?
5 Comments
A Little Bit Of Wireless Sunshine
Posted:Aug 26, 2020 6:52 pm
Last Updated:Aug 27, 2020 10:14 am
4673 Views

See below for actual entry.
3 Comments

To link to this blog (New2Midlo) use [blog New2Midlo] in your messages.

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