Maytag Performer Pavt234aww

"PALP" FICTION, talking about men and neurons

Last night at the pub Travalle I touched a boob. But big. I will not say who ... (She and the know Gui).
I'm still thinking. What a beauty. Also in
Travalle s is discussed approaches. But none of the psychological and emotional. Physical approach of strangers.
Now, the question is the extent to which man becomes blurred vision (as well as the soap) from the testicle?

Inevitable not recall scenes of panic at the foam party ibizenghe amnesia. I've been there twice and twice I was groped as a clay jar. Above and below, left and right. Until the encounter with the fearsome conqueror TOTTI type, so called because his specialty is the spoon. It is said
SPOON - Men and women (who then go to ignorant, with the foam and the smoke challenge thou hast to recognize who the front) seats in front. He runs his hand with a spatula escavator upward movement between her legs, mimicking the movement of the shovel on the sand. She (in this case, me) thrusts fist in a straight line, ndo coio coio, because poor visibility and soap in my eyes. Becca someone very, very violently. Stratton's friend and dragged her out of the Sun orgy dishes.
Now, the foam party should be considered a version of Tamarra dark room. The only difference is that if I decide to go into a dark room cursed mel'aspetto palpated the contrary, I try specifically apple.
At no foam parties. Also because, if he decides to be a foam party seriously, there's nothing to enjoy. Breathe foam from his nose and mouth while unknown hands can touch you in 2000 and 4000 feet pounding like it was time to harvest is not fun. But the man
TOTTI tocchiccia in the pile. Touching tits, ass and company without even knowing if you are palpating Want to Marchi or Heidi Klum. But stupid enough to touch. Ahh, that Goduria. Maybe at the end of the evening will be counting the spoons and they brag with their friends as if every excavated corresponded to an embrace. Stupid, stupid. I refuse to believe that he was deceived to conclude something. "Hey, hello, what are you while you were choking did a pap test in hand .. you like a drink?". Do not comment further.
Rated -30, nerd molester.

There are other approaches, no less ridiculous, but certainly less traumatic for the poor prey.

The hard won. Must this adjective to the famous phatic function of language: to prepare the field for a telephone conversation debut with "READY?" Which takes on the meaning of "there, am going to start talking." The subject typically appears before you as if it were at the counter of the bank: HELLO, CAN YOU HEAR? And the answer, poor fellow. Unless you use the verb "to know" in the biblical sense, its incipit appears totally useless. As if to say: HELLO, I CAN TELL YOU HELLO?. Rated 4
, redundant.

Conqueror old school. Rivoga a whole set of old licks from peanuts. "We have already 'seen you somewhere before?" / "COME HERE OFTEN?" / "Looking for someone?". Response gets a smile of pity and a pat on the back that is worse than a slap in the face. Rated 3
, lazy.

Conqueror LaChance, because the important thing is to be convinced. Approaches in the grip of St. Vitus dance autoconvinto because you can dance. It 's so busy with his choreography (hence the name LaChance) who does not realize that there is also the music, and maybe that should be followed. Tripping on the notes of the Pussycat Dolls, gives the basin Riky Martin. Since there is no problem, indeed. The prey laughs uproariously and pointing to the friend whispering in your ear. The prey stops laughing when the whip pelvic try to kidnap her in a pas de deux. Do not you just have to stop yelling in your ear "YOU MUST BE CALM BUT."
rating of 10 for the effort, but 4 for the instep, ridiculous.

Conqueror coupled . One of the worst. Shown and disco with his girlfriend but does not give up the game. Dance with her winking at the back of poor girls. When it seems on the verge of realizing he sticks his tongue in his mouth as if to say "NO NO, there is nothing to NOT LOOK BACK". Rated 1
, winking fake and a liar.

Conqueror peter pan. E ' convinced that he still 13 years ahead and send the friend. "Oh, that girl over there wants to meet you." Thanks for the info, send me a fax. If the prey has more than 14 years, this technique will fail miserably, between the laughter of her friends who continue with the additive / smile / she whispered.
Rated 0, plasmon biscuits.

Conqueror seasoned . Despite his 60 years he threw himself into the fray masked by Briatore. Every now and then does the dead hand and the face of one who knows a lot. The old fox, or rather mangy old fox has the innate gift of the look-blob. Only you look dirty, leaving him with a spread of Slimer. Fa x-ray to any roof with their legs conludendo screening nodding in the wind with a look of a connoisseur of wines. E 'strictly alone. Because his company which has the vintage men tonight in the Trump camp. It goes without saying, will return to pitch like rain pouring conquests among the five beat and the yawns of fellow retirees.
5 rating, but only for length, Viscidi

Conqueror sheathed. Named for the collection of synthetic and tight t-shirt that boasts, he has breakfast with milk and anabolic steroids. In the room hung a poster of the Hundred Celle, kissing each morning after the first injection of nandrolone, just before the waxing full. Having sported a long mane for years raven wet, shaved at the temples, now flaunts the style billiard ball to hide the receding hairline and look like Trentalance Franco (who until the mole, but who lo'nculava?) and preserves a holy card in your wallet. Has a tremendous problem of perspiration accentuated by the fact that band leaders like polyester, nylon watermark. You spear looks sick who has tried and tried to stop imitating the mirror image of Costantino Vitagliano when he was on the throne. If there is unknown. For the rating, the stench of sweat and the streak that has left t back when the whole club, decided to go right behind you.
rating 2, rubbish.

Conqueror Pranotherapy . Darquin Duck, the terror that flutters in the night. I do not see but feel. He has the gift of invisibility. Touches you in a languid, you turn around and there's more. It whispers in your ear (but what the fuck!) And then is dumb. Alliscia you an arm as you blitz through the crowd. It has a delicate touch, from reflexology. Touching on the sly for the entire evening will cure an ulcer, with only the laying on of hands. Exit the room with all the chakras revitalized, but with a wind that is spinning balls. ARISEN DICK! Rated 4
, Ayurvedic unnamed

But there are still many, friends and my friends. I'd be curious to know yours. Perhaps some reader who wants to enlighten us on true nature of action in male disco. Maybe we can unravel the mystery: the men leave their single neuron in the cloakroom with the coat?

Herpes Ocular - Fotos

We speak of love (he was born as a fun place but ..)..

Topic confusing, indeed, I say, osticissimo.
Those who know me well, but also much less, you know for certain that my love has always been a big taboo, more than oral sex (a topic to which I will devote a special post in a few years I think).
I would like to address the issue without falling into rhetoric Sexandthecityiana who sees love as a categorical imperative to be followed for life at all costs.
I'm not yet able to define it. And maybe there never succeed. Since

I was little I have seen love like a sissy thing. Perhaps the fact that in elementary school I was the only girl in my class that was left for lunch at the table participating in the World Championships and also the launch of snots not made me an easy target of romantic attentions.
Although I have not done anything but camouflaged among males showing off for men look sloppy (in winter corduroy pants, shirt and vest or shellsuit and shorts and oversize T-shirts inherited from Frank for the summer) and entertainment in typical male pastimes (killing ants, eating pine nuts, sdrumarmi knees in the courtyard of tar) are not able to exorcise the moment when I made the accounts with the opposite sex.

This condition occurs on the first day of middle school. Cicognini boarding schools were forced to wear an apron (or rather the lap) black, in the name of an imaginary social equality. Grandma Elsa prepared me for that day, a white collar embroidered and ironed to perfection femininity bursting from every pore. My coverage was at risk, and indeed was completely skipped. It was like suddenly serve to camouflage the past 5 years. It was the shame. Hat ass. The collar with lace embarrassed me terribly. And to make matters worse, his grandmother saddled me an apron buttoned back. Can not get rid of without a rash.
was the beginning of end. As the worst spell, crossing the threshold of the first B, I was asked if I were Tom or Dick. A whiff of heat hit my face and the only answer I could give was a shy "but go in the ass" strangled by the collar and shame . That same year another Compagnucci decided to honor me with a letter that Valentine accartocciai and promptly hid under the desk, always a prey to the usual cocktail of anger and embarrassment. But how is it possible?! The three years at boarding school I went to them wriggling from the speeches of love, sexually explicit comments to horrify some of my comrades in full hormonal storm and especially to avoid the punishment, the epitome of the ridiculous, the apotheosis embarrassment: the game of the bottle. Not even lent me a trip. True to the line.
I did not care no, I did not like anybody and therefore I would not kiss anyone, not even on the cheek.
Then something happened after the eighth grade exam. It was muggy summer. The prospect of a summer without my staggering tasks of titanium armor and I awarded a round of the game of perdition " game but I did not put the language ." It was nevertheless a step forward.

In high school I can not say that the situation has improved substantially.
For the first year I just found that some males were not so bad. In particular, one of fifth. Curls and glasses. He was a forerunner nerd, did not know that 10 years after his style had surged. I liked it because it was fifth. And why would never have noticed me. And this simply because I would never, ever done anything that happened the other way. A perfect taproot, which included neither satisfaction nor disappointment. We lived on two parallel planets. no involvement or emotional nor physical.

In second one I made the plunge. I agreed to go out with a guy from third with very wide shoulders, blacks hair and brown eyes. An ordinary guy. We met at the school athletics. I always won, and winning like . He played basketball and was very unpleasant. Do not know why I chose him. We went out once. It was raining that God sent her. I, who have always considered the umbrella of an object unbearable, aesthetically unpleasant and socially out of the way (an umbrella head separates two forces in an umbrella) was waiting under the deluge. He showed up with the largest umbrella of Eurasia and a pair of rain boots. "Input: loser. Output: get rid of as soon as possible, "he said. We took a tour of the historic center and planted it after 800 meters. Before I left I snatched a kiss which I did last breath in a nanosecond, before run screaming. It happened near the shop of my uncle. I spent a night in disgust and paranoia. Surely someone had seen me. I told myself that the game was not worth the candle, not worth the discomfort the person. I lifted the phone and told him that our story was over. It lasted about 24 hours.

was the beginning of the end. The spucinìo. I began mercilessly to claim victims. My friend Laura trembled whenever I communicated that I liked someone. "No, Viola, is not true. In 3 days you will be horrible. " "Lau, I swear, I like that .." and the prophecy of Laura as always manifested itself in all its destructive power. We began to keep count. We got to the point that I decided that maybe it was better to take a vacation from sex male.

came grunge depressive phase. I was too busy to bask in my existential torment to worry about my love life.

passed that stage I started to attend a boy who waited for months without me my comfortable pressure. We won to fall in love and suffer like a dog for my continuing turnaround. I liked today, tomorrow I do not like. But it was the first time I heard the words I LOVE YOU. I went completely haywire. And I began my inexorable march over the dead bodies of poor boys who became silly women in my eyes.
began to show, however, a certain sensitivity. During our first release already did an overview of their what would have been: look, do not be attached to it. Today there are no more tomorrow. "It is because you have not found the right one," I repeated my friends. He had become a mantra. My alibi. They were right. No one was right. I stood alone for months, years. On the other hand I enjoyed like crazy and I drew a sigh of relief when I heard some friends in a crisis of love. Problems that were not touching me. I considered a force. Do not depend on anybody, again neither physically nor emotionally.
was at that time that one of my best friends left her old boyfriend after a history of 5 years. After I feel a little 'guilty as I know that I was certainly totally responsible. But the carefree decantai singletudine so that blesses me as I listened to the strength of my arguments.

Then the university, the new life in Siena. Pure fun, without any ambiguity or promiscuity. I learned to be happy. I was no longer a tank. I had my balance, my closet, my friends. A boy, maybe the right one, would be the icing on the cake. At Siena I was just a kid, I met a few months before leaving for Erasmus. "The less time suitable to establish romantic relationships" will my faithful readers. Not necessarily, I would add. It worked. Because I was not more than a tank. I did not have anything to run from. I lived my life great. Erasmus student in Paris, then made off to Siena. No worries. A decidedly lighthearted period that lasted just long enough to let me take a new rampage. To leave again. For America this time. In hindsight I must say that it was a delicate gesture. I applied for a scholarship without even ask him why in my heart I knew that his opinion would have no effect on my decision.
There was something mystical in this journey. As with many of the spiritual pilgrimage in India, the period is envisaged Yorker bring much revolutions. And so it was. Passing over
feeling of home that I felt just landed at JFK, and the total freedom and enthusiasm with which this past semester, The Big Apple gave me another gift: Love.
Ok, my every attempt not to fall into trappolone Sex and the City goes to fuck off, but it's exactly what happened.

While I had great prejudices against him, he could not bear me. Noisy and disorderly. Also to gesticulate. Sparasentenze and egocentric. So I saw, and therefore I avoided like the plague. If you organize a night with friends, certainly not inviting me. In response to
I just started to ignore it. It was not nice. He did not speak, or rather, not talking to me. He always had that look annoyed and cold. Too Swedish . Then, like a bolt from the blue, a few weeks of the end (of course) radically changed his mind and informed me the no frills, raising his head from the book. And without even giving me time to respond rificcò head between pages. Too Swedish . For a good week forced me to reset the evening. Embarrassing. Unsettling. I hate to try and offset embarrassment. It begins already bad. Then I say, but who cares. Let's try.

And under the astonished eyes of my friends began the historical metamorphosis. Not that I have turned into a sentimental and cloying Squinzi eh, do not exaggerate. The key word is "planning" . No need for large demonstrations and sensational acts. I have done at times in the past and all have turned out to be based on .. Nothing is absolute, the crap aesthetics.
Here it is not horrified at the thought of making plans. Even in the long term. Share with a walk together. Great great stuff. This is love.
Ok, the passion. Ok infatuation. But life is not only embraces the physical and emotional. I am assuming you want to feel good. Some say that women are attracted to assholes. Error, big nonsense. The bastards attract me, yes, if a fit of slapping approach counts as love. No thanks. Carrie takes musate in the face by Big 3 bets each and bea their torment by writing a column on Daily Star. I honestly find it the apotheosis of masochism and, no thanks, not for me. I have found someone to feel good. Be 100% yourself, and do it together. Love is sharing. Everything. Physically and emotionally. Finally.

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VENTA

.. of proactivity. Since I have found several
crap written during my six months Americans, I decided to post it.
As some know I thought that my blog deserves another chance.
The truth is that I realized that it was time to return to school for the final examination and counter-arguments are wasted here.
"No, I have to rearrange the blog, the examination of social psychology can wait," I told myself.

So, I'm not back in NY. What you read (if you will) is the version of blogghifera sidebars I wrote from the U.S. for the book "Diary of twentysomethings" ANNA. Some have been published, others not.

Disclaimer:
my policy of writing is not "point to the genius, but to write what and how I think. The journals or diaries
tempted recognize them because they stuck the label of the same name ..

Depreciation For Motor Home

Cultural shock

Welcome home Viola. I said goodbye to New York and went back home. The shock of the return is more traumatic than expected. At passport control I am not worthy of a look from the policeman on duty who is too busy trying to attract the attention of Riccardo Cocciante "Oh Master, how come I never go any famous person?". At the train station at Fiumicino risk asphyxia due to wild smokers who ignore the fact that we are closed. I am embarking on a journey of hope on to Termini. 40 minutes walking speed Eurostar train to Florence and almost lost. "I'm not a racist but you have to understand that you're not at home. Lower your voice I'm trying to sleep. " A distinguished man yells at a woman with two African children a bit 'lively, giving the familiar tu. Welcome home. Suddenly a sketch of autogenic training trying to convince me that it is all a dream. I hope wake up on time and in stinky but the Democratic New York subway.

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David Helfgott, the mouse who became a lion in Massachusetts

"Always Smile! Have fun! "Is the first phrase that David Helfgott, the pianist of genius that inspired Shine, the 1996 movie, directed by Scott Hicks, gives me just got out of the taxi in front of the Blue Note in New York with his wife Gillian and by Mirko Zeppellini manager. When we meet I
hugging sincere, vigorous. I would like to ask you a question that haunts me for a week but can not find the courage. Say hello to passersby, hugs and kisses anyone who gets in front. He smiles, talks fast. Took my hand and enter the room together. Same rite of kisses and hugs to staff, that retracts upset by the sudden gust of affection that has just broke the historic jazz club. It 's a way to convey his joie de vivre, his desire to make others feel important "never get bored, never get bored, remember, you must be alert," he compulsively repeats almost always embraced. I take a streak of pain in his words. "But there is something to the world that can make you sad?" "Be always happy, always happy, so 'you will always have happy memories."
David Helfgott in addition to being a pianist is the supreme personification of innocence and simplicity. "In life I'm a rat, when the sound plan are a lion attack. " And 'as if his nervous system absorb strength from blacks and white keys. Every fiber of his body is tied hand in glove with the keys. When does the Sonata in B Minor by Franz Liszt's Concerto No. 2 by Sergei Rachmaninoff, the composer who, with his famous Concerto No. 3 was the beginning of the famous and sad collapse of Helfgott, it does so with the whole body and soul and the result is exciting.
Delicate Vietnamese silk shirt in his bright red bows on the keyboard, talking to the piano, as if he were alive, writhing, smiles, gets up when it rings, then sits down and looks enthusiastic audience in the front rows.
Gillian, the wife of former astrologer, in his blue coat embroidered with silver, pink lipstick and pearl earrings, I murmured "David is pure joy. The only thing that makes him suffer and 'know that there are unhappy people in the world. " She looks at him from beneath the stage. Scolds him if you wait too handshakes and pats on the heads of spectators. And 'the rational part of the couple. Once that has become aware that during the concert will be served dinner, I confided that he hoped that David does not notice. Bring her mind back to that painful period in which he played in a restaurant where all the denigrated. "We hope that American journalists do not make allusions. David deserves to be at least a little 'happy'. A large woman next (and back) to a great artist from the past unlucky.
"What a beautiful woman is Gillian," David whispered in between the first and the second time "'s beautiful, is not it? I love the piano, and Gillian ... Swimming. " I take courage. "David, playing the Flight of the Bumblebee for me?". Silence falls. Gillian takes the stage to announce that the final act of the big show is about to begin. "Sound the bee, darling!" He exclaims, turning to his wife who is not a big fan of improvisation and exchange of programs, particularly in front of a phalanx of American critics.
After an endless standing ovation and chants, the audience leaves.
Tireless, David Frantz Liszt La Campanella played for the waiters who sweep and clean the tables. A third act full-blown. David Helfgott's ability to excite everyone, beginners and experts, is its strength, its uniqueness. PS At the end

David has played the "bee" for me. An emotion that's no surprise no boyfriend could ever inspire. What can I ask for?

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Whalewatching

desire to escape from the chaos in New York I get lonely on the first bus to Massachusetts. My goal is laughing Newburyport, a town famous for the usual ocean whale watching. We sail for hours without even a mullet is worth coming to the surface. But while fiddling with a piece of whalebone resigned withered uncontrollable emotion comes over me. 24 hours ago I was in the grip of rampant agoraphobia that only Times Square can cause. Now I'm in the middle of the ocean on the "Prince of Whales" (dreadful pun), surrounded by a group of cetaceans that huge splash with their typical spray "from the whale." I made an expression numb from the wind and sticky nature of this so perfect. The shutter of my digital camera stops working on its own climax and forces me to capture those images with all my 5 senses. Completely confused I return to the chaotic New York. And when the bus leaves me at Times Square and close my eyes I see the sea.

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Fun in Fire Island

For weeks, my roommate has not done anything but talk about the mysterious Fire Island, an island reached in two hours from New York. Gathered some 'friends decide to touch. We are thrown in parallel dimension. And 'long and narrow island, with no roads. The only two villages, Cherry Grove and Pines, are connected by a water-taxy and a wooden walkway that winds through the bungalows and seafood restaurants. A huge rainbow flag welcomes us on the 'Gay Island where everything is permitted. " Hundreds of men Muscled shirtless barefoot sipping drinks at the rate triggering debauched last piece of Bob Sinclair. The beach is huge. The clean water. It seems impossible that New York is a short walk from here. Surreal, especially when the Scandinavian Peter yells at me that he saw a reindeer and a big white bird. "No more alcohol!" I shout. To my amazement, I realize that the poor in Sweden is not drunk. The island is inhabited by deer and swans. Now give me a good reason not to move to this country!

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SISTA NEW YORK

New York is a large, elegant, eccentric, moody woman. Has in it one thousand persons. When you seem to know here is that suddenly surprises you with a breathtaking view, a sudden storm, a day of scorching heat of a rainbow or a reflection on skyscrapers. E 'meteorologically crazy. After a scorching day in Long Beach under a relentless sun and hot, that's the storm. 98 degrees Fahrenheit, nearly 40 of us. The city is shrouded in a cloud of muggy, rain, lightning and thunderbolts. Just as we know does not seem to decide whether to be angry or relaxed. After the umpteenth time I find myself without an umbrella in the middle of the flood I decided to apply my knowledge of the female gender. Welcoming a shower in bikini and thongs, pretending not to be bothered, indeed, enjoy it as manna from heaven makes Hurricane unexpectedly steps and return the sun to shine.

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And the winner is the capital of the world

In this country there are contests for everything. The T-shirt more creative, more imaginative the sms, the most ridiculous photos, buying more expensive .. There is even a lottery that is giving away the infamous Green Card, so the fields (even by me) work permits and residence. Nevertheless, I always considered the competitions tools to increase sales or visibility of a brand, until I realized firsthand that in the U.S. the best way to bring out the best in people is enticed by the prospect of a cadeau . Even at the university. And so, with visibly puzzled expression, I won a dvd won the quiz on the genocide in Rwanda, a key to winning the extermination of indigenous Australians, a packet of sweets associated with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and a four-color pen winning the 'find' s intruder "between Bismark, Hitler, Hindenburg and Mark Spitz. But I did not felt to accept the teddy bears winning the quiz on child soldiers in Uganda because the concern has given way to bitterness. In the collective

Pain Above Waist To Back

Washington is the nerve center of the West. The White House, the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, the Capitol, the Lincoln Memorial. In reality is an endless series of temples and shrines faux neo-classical with Ionic columns and pediments of dubious taste, memorials for all occasions, from the conflict / extermination of Native Americans in the sacrifice of the Japan-American aviators. Hordes of Americans on a trip, inevitably overweight, with their oversized shirts, hats and socks snob colorful sculptures by Giacometti and Henry Moore photographed while pretending to hold up the Washington Monument, an obelisk 170 feet high sharp surrounded by 50 stars and flags strips. And while I think of Martin Luther King and his speech of 63 'when he shouted to the world to have a dream I run into Jim Carrey led a protest against the vaccine harmful. Traumatic awakening. King ... Carrey. Where will it all end.