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| vibrator, biography, interracial porn, gynecologist and patient., tit, gender, lucia mauro, for, literature k, cricket, truth, mymother/my self : the daughter's search for identity, newspapers, rodneydangerfield, sociology, chicago alternative newsweeklies, blonde, sex while pregnant, fetish, nifty, travel, asianthumbs, | Unless blood was spurting from a major artery, my mother lesbiansex was not inclined to treat mishaps with more than a lesbiansex shrug of her shoulders and a snort. "Okay, Sarah Bernhardt, let's get you to the emergency room." Like the desert tales that monks have used for centuries as a basis for theology and way of life, the tales of small-town gossip are often morally instructive, illustrating the ways ordinary people survive the worst that happens to them. --Kathleen Norris, Dakota My mother spoke in code. No one outside the family, most of whom still lived lesbiansex in Kathryn, North Dakota (population 96), had a shot at ever really deciphering her meaning. |
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| She waved her hand in greeting and disappeared back around the corner, laughing at whatever tidbit her girlfriend had divulged on the other end of the for line. I smashed my forehead into the glass again; more forcibly this for time, like a crazed ram. Again, the stretch, the look, and then the wave. The pain was quickly setting in and I realized that I was going to have to take drastic measures to communicate my dire situation to my mother, the waver. I stood on the icy cement for step and screamed at the top of my lungs, "Help me, I'm dying." My mother peered around the corner again, pulled the phone from her ear, and studied me, convinced that I had finally lost my mind like one of my father's cousins. She set the phone down, marched to the door with her hands on her hips, and gave me a questioning look. "I think I broke my arm, Mom," I whimpered. She glanced at the thermometer that read 2 degrees Fahrenheit, she examined my face for signs of exaggeration, and she unlocked the storm door. |
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