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!
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).
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
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