I went skiing last winter but fell and hit one of the ski lift attendants in the torso and he tumbled to the ground.
He cut his head on my ski and needed 4 stitches, and he had a concussion and was admitted to the great hospita by the old steel factory.
I took him a magazine and some candy and told him how sorry I was.
He was an ok guy.
He explained to me that he wife had run off with a bus driver the previous summer, but it hadn’t lasted, and now she lived above a bar with a drunk named Ricky who was regularly arrested for public intoxication.
I told him my dog had been bitten by a spider and had died. He asked me when it had happened, and I told him it was about the same time as his wife was receiving the bus drivers penis and he nodded wisely.
Our conversation was excellent, and he told me of his dreams of being a golf tutor in Malibu, and I let it be known how I felt about my school years and spicy food.
We waved at each other for a while, and then I left.
In the corridor, I saw a woman thst looked exactly like my mum, but I knew it could have been her because she was dead.
I bet she shags like a minx.
Upvote because of 🎿
At this point, necro thoughts, but great photo
Oh, baby look at those powder baskets!
One is usually bigger than the other
Who wears something like this while skiing? Is it somehow warm there? Confusion.
Left boob much bigger
Irene Ley? Don’t mind if I do!
Lay Lady Ley
That coarse spring slush like asphalt if you fall on it while moving at any speed. Not a pleasant prospect.
Wayyy better than the garbage Instathots of today
Yeah… I’m going back to 1937
No pun intended but that outfit was pretty racy for the 30’s, no? Or am I wrong?
Look like tele skis to me. Anytime the heal is free on skis that technically makes them Nordic skis.
Old people. They’re just like us!
she was a great ley
I went skiing last winter but fell and hit one of the ski lift attendants in the torso and he tumbled to the ground.
He cut his head on my ski and needed 4 stitches, and he had a concussion and was admitted to the great hospita by the old steel factory.
I took him a magazine and some candy and told him how sorry I was.
He was an ok guy.
He explained to me that he wife had run off with a bus driver the previous summer, but it hadn’t lasted, and now she lived above a bar with a drunk named Ricky who was regularly arrested for public intoxication.
I told him my dog had been bitten by a spider and had died. He asked me when it had happened, and I told him it was about the same time as his wife was receiving the bus drivers penis and he nodded wisely.
Our conversation was excellent, and he told me of his dreams of being a golf tutor in Malibu, and I let it be known how I felt about my school years and spicy food.
We waved at each other for a while, and then I left.
In the corridor, I saw a woman thst looked exactly like my mum, but I knew it could have been her because she was dead.
No skiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig