Outclass. Biting his lips with strawberry shortcake on.
How one can paint the town red, even after passed session, when one has to bear in mind that their high school is not a renowned one, neither is it a well-known, neither is it of good fame in its city. Therefore I don't see any point for to party exuberantly and to sport around with the fact that one has all signatures in their index happily. How derogatory. Another pitiful fact is that their celebrations are always pompous in style and exaggerated, like if expressing overwhelming willingness to show their indisputable, almost dogmatic right to do so and the why they do it. Write to a newspaper then. It concerns to the whole youth unfortunately. Personally, enjoy drinking some hight in percentage drinks, but not to an extreme degree of getting plastered and can't stand when somebody's pretending in any way. Otherwise the outing is not enjoyable at all. Ah, one more thing. Those huffy braggarts mentioned previously really,literally, suck in interpersonal squabble. Not only don't they know the basic rules of eristic art, but also when it comes to solving simple daily routine tasks they show a huge lack of helplessness, not even a scrap of commitment. Their only struggle is placing their snapshots on the only side onto which the nicknames are not artificial and fabricated. "Passport photo, an elastic past. Empty pockets. They think it's all, they think it's soul." Nevertheless, when the time for decisive moment has come where will have they gone? Mademoiselle M. Not to prolongate and slobber over many features of mine. Then, what does the mademoiselle do? Hides the fragile silhouette away from their thrifty claws. Assumed a stance of a philosopher, sneeringly observes the lame ducks' bungling crawling.


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