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Owolabi01

What Is The Nastiest Experience You Have Had In A Teenage Sleepover?
~1.4 mins read
When I was a teenage boy, trying to figure out how to get teenage girls into bed, one of the first tactics I employed was telling girls I wanted to give them the Italian kiss.
The Italian kiss was a completely made-up thing (that was its beauty)- it was mysterious.
Now, the Italian kiss is different from the French kiss in many ways.
The only way to give or receive the Italian kiss, was in complete nudity — or that's at least what I told whomever I was trying to get into bed.
It worked, an astonishing one out of looootttssss of attempts. I know, very, very, weak- I was a kid.
So, at sixteen years old, with my gold hoop earring, unibrow, and blue bandana — I told Kristen I wanted to give her the Italian kiss
She invited me to a sleepover at her house with a lot of other teens.
Kristen's mother, Jane, was a drinker — a heavy drinker.
Late in the evening, all us teens (about twelve or so) were laying on the living room floor watching TV and doing whatever.
Jane came in for some reason or another and eased her way through the teenage minefield that was her living room.
Jane was a bit tipsy, stumbled, and then stepped over me with a skirt on.
I looked up anddddd… she was pantyless.
It was nasty to see my friend’s forty-year-old drunk mother's hoo-ha.
That's all I’ve got for nasty experiences at a teenage sleepover. I wish it was a better story — it was just nasty.
Leon
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Owolabi01

What Made You Upset Today? She Sold Her Hair For 2$ To Feed Her Children
~1.2 mins read
The day Prema Selvam sold her hair for 150 rupees ($2; £1.50) in order to feed her young children was the worst of her life.
The mother-of-three had already lost her husband after he had killed himself in a fit of desperation amid mounting debts and a failed dream.
Even then, she still had hope.
But after selling her hair, she was faced with the prospect of having nothing more of value, no way to pay the creditors demanding their money, and no food in the cupboard.
Before his death, Prema and her husband had worked in a brick kiln in the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu, making just enough to scrape a living together for their young family. But they had hoped for more. Her husband took out a loan to start his own brick kiln, but the plans failed to take off. In a moment of desperation last year, he killed himself.
The pressure fell solely on Prema to not only earn enough to feed, clothe and house herself and her three children, but also to pay back the money they owed for the failed business venture. And for a while she managed, taking her two youngest to work with her.
"When I go to work I get 200 rupees ($2.80) per day, which is enough to run our family," Prema explains to the BBC.
But she became ill, which meant she couldn't earn as much.
"I couldn't carry a heavy load of bricks. I stayed home for most of the time due to a fever."
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