a story about your alcoholic father back home in Connecticut. "Do you remember the Argentinean girl?"<br />
How could I not remember the Argentinean girl? I’ve never met her, I can't even tell you her name, but I know her. I met her early on in our relationship. Many a morning after, while searching for a carelessly tossed thong, I met the fuzzy slippers she left underneath your bed. I met her lotions, body washes, shampoos and even tampons during my after-sex showers. I still meet her when I don't see yo