Does Carrot Oil Make You Tan

Fa più o meno male della nicotina, la donna? (Pirandello)

quick brown fox Serole the wrath of bloggers

infinite adduced that sliced \u200b\u200bthe son of Zebedee,

many, it was time!, Swept to Curinald uncivilized neighbors

and dogs and birds, and then let's not forget the cats!

A quote Reply with quote, and to simplify, yes, the woman, whether angry, it's very much more harm of nicotine!

I am a person irritable. Very edgy. I've got this figure from plush basset and morbidotta (hair included) and this makes misleading by teacher, with the cheeks, the perpetual smile and dreamy air, which can lead people to a fatal error of assessment of their opponent. In Actually I can be angry and abrupt like a snake trampled! Even without being stepped on, sometimes. Who knows me well knows, the wisest and be careful not to turn than my miccetta always too short, unless you have at hand to soothe that, which usually involves a good deal of affection or food type chocolate and palliative / or alcohol (yes I know, with vipers milk must be used, but I do I use my status as a woman -sapiens-sapiens to choose from one of my sedatives, and be careful because the woman free will and self-determination are topics for which m'incazzo more often).


do not know why so, whether this is a perverse combination of DNA-family-of-fair-poor immigrants-who-are-made-it-yourself, insecurity and automation of defense, and chihuahua syndrome (the smaller the frantically barking dogs). The fact is that is so, and all those who, although not belonging to the small group of human beings to accept that a cuddle without removing their limbs, they still want to address one of the zillion topics that make me angry, in addition to the chair and the whip will bring back at least a chocolate rum! Better a Mon Cheri a stump, is not it?
(gh, horrible joke, but there was almost ready, I could not waste it)

Without the due preambolo (ma quanti outing sto facendo sto periodo? cacchio, non va mica bene, così perdo l'aura di insondabile mistero che sempre deve celare il blogger mascherato), passo a narrare l'evento che ieri ha nuovamente scatenato l'Hulk che è in me: torno a casa a mezzogiorno, stordita dall'overdose di serotonina dovuta all'improvvisa esposizione ai raggi del sole dopo mesi e mesi di acqua freddo e grigiume. Veleggio attraverso il vialetto d'ingresso con le movenze aggraziate di quella leziosa della Regina Bianca (ma perchè i cattivi sono sempre terribilmente più interessanti dei buoni? ach, mistero!), sprizzando joie de vivre da tutti i pori, e mi attardo a contemplare le nuove foglioline che adornano le piantole del nostro giardino. Che bella la primavera dopo tanto freddo, che splendidi colori e che odore inebriante, che dolce il verde tenero dei germogli, CHE CAZZO SONO TUTTE QUELLE SIGARETTE???

Tuoni, fulmini e saette! Non bastavano i problemi coi quadrupedi (il cagnetto randagio di quartiere ed il gatto strapasciuto del vicino), che hanno scambiato il nostro giardino roccioso per un elegante cesso pubblico, e quindi, regolarmente e ritualmente, seppelliscono odorosi ricordini sotto la nostra ghiaia. Insomma, almeno la facessero vicino alle piante, che sempre di concime si tratta, invece di devastarmi la scenica collinetta di pietrisco. Merd! (eh beh, è proprio l'interiezione adatta)

NO, ora ci si mettono also bipedal, that is, the less civilized groups of workers that occasionally, when their company has a contract in the area, in the apartment above ours. Soooooo fortunately, these bipedal carrying out their bodily needs in the privacy of their bathroom, but smoke. Not in the bathroom, alas, but on the balconies. And much, much, judging by the amount of cigarette butts found precisely in the garden, where in one day yesterday, I collected 20 without counting those who were over on the sidewalk or in the other condo areas: those I left them there, to shame and everlasting memory (so you know how long it takes to break up a cigarette filter ... more or less like depleted uranium!)

Now, I have a statement for all smokers (and smokers) the habit of throwing cigarette butts on the ground: I will hate, and when I see that you do so with extreme indifference maybe an inch or a container dall'apposito basket, you break her arm! And if you with her arm broken ingegnaste to use the legs to bring the cigarette to his mouth and then into the ground, and those will break! And if, et cetera.

Not because you smoke, no: you want to fill your lungs with tar-stained fingers and teeth of nicotine, you always have that nasty taste in the mouth of burnt ash, and make you come (if there is fine) wrinkles early? As long as I do not smoke on you're free to do as you please. But do not throw those damn butts around everywhere, echecazzo! Look around and spotted puteolenti sti stumps are everywhere can get a biped with a lighter: in streets, shores, parks, mountain, beach ... squalor! And now in my giardinoooooo! Noooooo!

is not the first time, even in the past I have also found clothes hanging on ... I have not regito badly, on ... I just carefully collected all the cigarette butts found, I put them in a row like so many soldiers on a small strip of adhesive tape, and I've stuck on the door of the neighbors, adding to an old ashtray we have at home (which I use as container for the minutiae).

tacked on the whole, to be honest, I was quite satisfied with the effect scenic ... pity though that was involved in Silent defuse: convinced me to disconnect from the door of my pop art composition, with the wise view that by doing so the neighbors would feel attacked (it moves me that after all these years he still just can not conceive the idea that I can consciously and deliberately do an act of aggression against someone) and we may even otterenere the opposite effect (and what? to smoke even call friends, or maybe team up with the beasts of the above? brrr ...).

We then decided we're going to talk to them for explained calmly. I wrote
we go? No no, he just goes there, otherwise I do massacre na Today I found two new butts in the garden. I'm trying to drown Hulk in nutella, help?

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-------------------------------- (*) applies to this invective being thrown to the ground or litter or cingomme whatever is not specifically created to stay on the ground

Women Athlete Camel Toes

N'n gna faccio! (post noioso)

No, I try but I just n'n Spain, is a month passes and I have a post (political pissed) that I fester in the draft but I just can not finish it, but we go around the period of maximum creativity that I had was when I spent a puntoevirgola ...

Too many commitments, too many thoughts, too facebook? Useless, I would have plenty of time to cultivate my literary ambitions bloggeristiche, is that they are apathetic. It 'a period so mundane tranquil: a series of rambling vaguely days, nor fantastically horribly sad nor happy, I feel just survive, but that is vibrant misty expectancy does not quite know what to fear, but also underground, especially if that lethargic peace comes after a period of very dense small and large bad luck and pain.

short, it is worse than being bored or being sick?
(The lack of the third alternative is not random, but can be traced back all'indomito optimism that distinguishes me: after all, a pessimist is just an optimist with experience!)


I said, humans are strange (and I do not do certain exceptions): the Most of us, rather than using the inevitable moments of pause to address themselves and impossible questions about the meaning of life, would accept more readily the pain, because basically we are convinced (we were convinced?), "Life is not measured how many breaths we take, but by the moments that take your breath away. " Mmmm ...

Apart from the understandable skepticism of the World Medical pulmonologists, but it is true that it should be so? I'm finally starting to accept the idea that my boredom of living is by no means caused by the external environment ... Well of course, live in New York with a group of hippies who are abandoned, rather than immersed in the old color of time with 90% of friends now hopelessly ensnared by parental responsibilities, may provide new stimuli, but eventually even those I would certainly boring. Why in fact I've got into boredom.

Nor is boredom and anxiety. Anxiety of life, anxiety to try, hear, do (kissing point and will say): I burn this because I'm always looking into the future, because I have a sharp awareness that my time is limitato e vorrei usarlo al meglio. Solo che riguardo a questo "meglio" ho le idee un po' confuse, e quindi in assenza di una direttiva chiara mi disperdo in mille rivoli perchè dovrei fare di più, provare di più, sentire di più. La ragazza è intelligente ma non si applica, potrebbe fare di più...

Cosa? Boh! E nel frattempo l'attimo presente mi sfugge. Panta rei, ecc ecc. Un circolo vizioso!

In cotanto scazzo, una persona di discreta esperienza mi ha consigliato di lasciar perdere le domande da un fantastilione di sesterzi ed i progetti con la P R O maiuscola, ammettere che non posso navigare senza la bussola (soprattutto con la sfiga sempre inquattata nell'ombra come l'iceberg di Titanic), and focus on the immediate present, an end in itself, purely corporeal. Type brush my teeth, and instead of one thousand saw me mental focus on the individual dog by rubbing. Beeello. For 6 / 7 nanoseconds work ... Or attend to the daily tasks with meticulous attention observing the colors of the box of tomatoes or the feeling of the objects in his hands.

Council wonderful, now I feel anxious as well as too crazy ... and, let's face it, the boxes of tomatoes that are not so exciting ...

In all this, I'm depressed? No, not really. Are suspended. And some 'reassurance: in other words, legions of philosophers, thinkers and artists who have poured rivers of ink to the boredom, will to say something. The conclusions to you, I'll leave ... Pending