Lotiony Cervical Mucus

: romantic hangover last long long time needle runs a whiskey and beer and a chat about how it sucks the next generation. It may not seem like the best but it was very funny, I always find it very fun to know people's opinions and discuss sensibly with them, and then really know (you know: in vino veritas ). And that's the last time I've been drunk so long as Long Time Ago, in fact. I drink like always. Type I feel uncomfortable without a glass in hand. But it's a change we have noticed a few all: enterteiner strong pulsing through my veins acting stupid at the time is definitely dead. Lately I enjoy most to observe. Did not become a trivial Vouyer, of course. Looking to learn and understand. Which also involves talking, of course. Because despite being firmly convinced that to know a person sometimes just a glance, I must also admit that often looks can be deceiving. So I always give people a second chance to redeem through dialogue. We must admit that my own magnanimity knows no bounds.
However, I have a little 'broken cock. A bit 'all a bit' all my old drinking buddies I broke my dick. I am not speaking of those drinking the romantic zodiac, which were always a parallel journey in Rome and outside Rome and in noicomeunsolocuorebattenteall'unisono, no, those rinpiango not and will not ever regret. I refer specifically to properly and when I happen to go to disco and observe all the people I know get drunk already lost and continue to drain a glass after another. And to say shit (not shit funny, more prone to pathos). And making fools of themselves (that is ridiculous that the sentence). And so to find myself "talking" with a mass of lifeless numbed idiots who smells of death. The fact is that under each disco, through alcohol and drugs, thought to find its place, as if all the pieces of the puzzle finally found their perfect concatenation and jam. No! Crazy crazy! Not true! Just be worth it! You are just the atrophied limb a humanity that has sucked away all its lifeblood and has obscured the sun, disgusting criminally insane. Let us look more closely
the sad spectacle which offers itself to gentle viewer:
there are those who greet you like you're their best friend for years, but in reality you have done everything possible to keep up on the cock ... lack of affection?
then there are those who have the potential to be very intelligent people and realized in life but you threw away the jokes for discounted electrical outlets and well ... fucking preteen trauma?
there are those who have nothing in their daily life but in the acclaimed Tunz Tunz ... lack of personality?
there are those that would be really nice people (say outwardly) and are doing everything to make ugly faces with their clothes and fucking partykidnewyorkese ... missed the carnival party?
there are those that would be really nice people (inside say) and do everything possible to drift away from a human relationship (or nearly so, then are not even human so I ...)... so many problems ergo chittesencula?

That was me on the cock, fuck off.
Once the music was basically inspiration. The art style of life. Alcohol is a stylistic choice. The poor will stand Bukowski stirring in his grave. The wisps of your pathetic lives they cook the bacon for amatriciana if only I were not vegetarian and I had the certainty that there is nell'amatriciana bacon. So do not fuck the crap if I ever face bored, not bored, in fact, I am deeply amused disgust ET. Do not Shit my dick if you answer wrong or if you do not know, I do not crapped in two seconds and sent to therapy for a sufficient amount of € repay the cost of water Nigeria. Do not fuck the crap if you do not want anything to do with you, if you do not understand, if I'm not going to help. I do not need. I've always said and I repeat here: I never wanted anything (more than what I have).
Sincerely, your loyal moralist (mecoioniarcazzo).

Famous Poetry On Forgiveness

Every Day a brand new litter homoerotic vein

there are answears that don't need questions, it seems. As I talk you plug up your ears and scream. If you only would listen I know I could change your mind. I talk you scream, I write you can't read, I sing you don't understand. So, if I can't get what I want, I'm gonna take all the rest, I'm gonna take it all. Even if I'm so tired of Revenge, is always the same old story. So the only answear I'll give to your questions will be TRALLALLERO.

"without you I'm nothing" is still the only album that makes me twist on the floor.

Where Can I Buy A Platypus

e insomma niente, io non ci credo eh, sia ben chiaro, però certo è inquietante.
"fammi vedere la mano"
"Uff..."
"OMIODIO"
"What?" What? "
"Life Line ... and that of love ..."
"Well?" Who? "
"No, they are very short, I'm sorry ..."
"So I do not believe"
"You will die young you know and then stop at the same time so it might be suicide following a disappointment ... and then ... ah ... you'll have a son ...."
So I do not believe it. Really. They are crap. My life will not be affected by a bit of advanced Pellacchia hands ... sure, however, an orphan on his conscience. Miodio.


So today I get nothing on the bus and I see that now there is something wrong ... yet so many people so many seats ... many people ... and all to do capannelo around the driver's cabin. Boh ... then I understand, and I understand why I'm struck me and stuns a nauseating smell. But I am a rock, resist, stoic I sit next to a lady who makes his cock. And I see all the people who turn to (I assume it was, I never shot at him because I do not give anything to see him in the face, Sticazzi short, was a point that smelled and) the poor homeless man on duty, looks grim, handkerchiefs covering their faces, murmurs of disapproval, slowly shook his head, and that memorable squad of black-velvet-scarpedipelleneralucide green-dyed hair red and badly permed-platinum blond to cover the white tufts of bitter self-righteous moralistic gossip-whores shit-with several shopping bags, packages, bags horrific bad-taste combinations that are stuck in the driver (not if the buggers) and would like to lead a protest against a tough and unyielding struggle, but they can not then they're just there to be unnecessary to make a living instead of life. It then climbs a driver out of service, air grim and red nose, vacant look (my experience suggests to me a couple of glasses of whiskey), salt by hitting the little woman blonde, the peers when she turns angry as if it were cannon fodder, but then the doors close. E 'rose. Dominates in the middle of the narrow corridor and oddly not crowded. It employs a 120 long seconds to realize the situation (but you know, alcohol hormones and slow reflexes), all the little women first turn to him, look at him with eyes full of admiration and hope, so he came to save us, yes, yes he will do something, all eyes dart toward He is at the center of attention, but hesitates, is undecided, takes two steps, then stops, turns, looks at the little women, the poor kinesin that stage with all the force his mouth happy for once not the monster unnameable which is the other, turns around, searches the small residue of self-consciousness that remain, and finally, with an effort titatinico, turns around and starts to get his cocks. Joy, gaiety and joy. I'm not unionized
that stink. It 's true, it was nauseating. Disgusting, the scum of humanity, do not ever shake hands with someone who stinks of sewage. But he was there. He was there, and no one could oppose him. Then started the comedy of the Best from peanuts, all united in their grim looks against the Other, the Different, the irregular, the deviant, the criminal. All those white handkerchiefs, but not enough tons of OminoBianco100più (do not pay me, no) to cleanse your soul muddy filthy reeking of dead and stale as if you had never left home. Then I looked outside, the smell blunts the brain maybe, maybe not, maybe it was not as dramatic, maybe I was making my cock, I thought maybe someone or something, I looked out and saw this strange Bezza drag away the gray clouds, the sun dazzled with flashes traffic, and the wind shook the leaves on the trees as long hair glossy blacks of the Asian girl behind me talking on the phone in German, and the wind shook the leaves on the trees as my thoughts and dreams are not feasible for something different, spontaneous, genuine, something that exists only in my mind wrong, a life outside of class, never perfectly aligned, but there might not seem enviable and desirable existence outside the concept of abnormality? no, eh? and the wind shook the leaves on the trees as the blacks of the long hair asian girl who spoke German and I thought Sieg Heil.

Best Way To Prepare For Sat Critical Reading

those days

you rode your ass for no reason.
the reason there is always
...
admit it!
ok I'm human, after all
yes, after all, for that matter ...
ok I'm taking the piss a little bit

unharmed but will go out as always ....

you like to have dinner tonight?