I grew up in Romania in the 80s and sometimes we only had 1 square of toilet paper per day. This had to last through 13 shits (this was how many family members lived in my flat).
The abundance of America is an enigma to me, even to this day. I often wax nostaligc about my mom’s hands smelling like warm dookies while she was preparing our potato soup and that long ago lubricated feeling between my cheeks that will sometimes rise above a faint whisper when I eat too many Hot Pockets.
When I first came to America, I dropped down on my knees and cried when I saw the paper aisle at my local Kroger. I had to borrow $8 from my girlfriend to buy a 12 pack but it was worth it. I rubbed my ass until bloody even though it was pillowy soft, almost heavenly.
I grew up in Romania in the 80s and sometimes we only had 1 square of toilet paper per day. This had to last through 13 shits (this was how many family members lived in my flat).
The abundance of America is an enigma to me, even to this day. I often wax nostaligc about my mom’s hands smelling like warm dookies while she was preparing our potato soup and that long ago lubricated feeling between my cheeks that will sometimes rise above a faint whisper when I eat too many Hot Pockets.
When I first came to America, I dropped down on my knees and cried when I saw the paper aisle at my local Kroger. I had to borrow $8 from my girlfriend to buy a 12 pack but it was worth it. I rubbed my ass until bloody even though it was pillowy soft, almost heavenly.