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Tonight I throw myself .. Indeed, Lord Rupert

Melodrama.

Another year has gone more or less silently and age continues to change digit.

Things change, some remain static miraculously, other Evon still happen in a gestation charge of hope and illusion.

2010 .. round number ... even-numbered year ... person.

The significance of the fact that it is an even year is entirely personal. I do not know if I ever told publicly on the New Year and my theory on the difference between odd-numbered year and year ... no? Provides.

So, basically everything good in my life happened or not happened in an odd year, all but a few exceptions such as a diploma or special meetings .. or my birth (not a small thing I realize). However, usually I fear very odd years, I fear them because I see them as years of change, unexpected .. and I hate the changes, unexpected hate, hate the distortions. No, not true at all. I fear the unexpected negative fear transitions.

(Gigi, Alberto or, better, Gigi Alberto clear example of recovery after an accident. The unexpected and consequences)

corollary of this theory is the influence of the party last year on the fate of the following year.

Given that they are not superstitious, I do not eat grapes or lentils, which do not wear anything red, blacks that I have cats and reverse the salt in two cases, here, provided all this happens that my condition is worse on the stroke of midnight on December 31, the better the following year.

do not think there are forces and transcendental or mystical megnetismi behind all this is only an objective, empirical observation. This is not say that I autosaboto so the equation is realized .. at least not consciously.

strange people, moving to a strange, no?

They jumped the unpleasant things of the past year. Greet each other with enthusiasm and hope of the events next year only imagined. But why waste time then to imagine, design, engineer when the flow, the current events around mercilessly shocked? E mica necessarily negative.

O stasis, or the hurricane. Little middle ground, usually do not perceive.

year if I choose, I choose the hurricane.

grace, a sign on my account.

Ophelia

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Last year

The last day of the year they spend it.
In a city that slumbers and is unusually hospitable. In
there is hardly anyone around, and the everyday becomes unusual when there's hardly anyone around.

The last day of the year they spent working on the latest things.
to walk despite the rain.
to read the books I like.
To be calm and relaxed, with more sense of the rhythms, with a sound logic.

When comes the end of the year I always thought that is an important thing.
The new year, I say.
will come naturally because I value things for years.
My life, that of others. What's going on.
year by year. While

attack a new calendar on the wall, I do not think the passing of time.
Just this year my schedule is more colorful than the old one.
It suits me well.

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... it's also fun, as well as disturbing.

If you stroll around the few known streets of Trento, one can not fail to notice. In the end, marketing, advertising strategy is, and I agree that we must strike the attention of the passer / prospective client, but scary and suggestions in this way seems a bit 'too invasive.

the end I also go well Benetton Junior mini sweaters that hung on the tree. Overcome with relative ease also showcase Sisley for children where they are hung mini disco emo-haired white with no eyes and sat up balls of paper flying ... but Lord Rupert goes really well.

Nice is nice. Beautiful words .. we say that the old adage "nice stove that el pias brut that" here are suitable application. One type .. with repressed sexual frustration and tastes for clothing on which they may engage in panel discussions. Above the canopy can be discussed.

Someone must have mistaken for Raffaella Carrà, which led him to give a cut to the blond bob and decided never to love down to Trieste. I only know that it is a great pity, because so bald, Lord Rupert is still, if possible, more chilling.

(Lord Rupert from the helmet of gold in one of his classic poses ...)

In fact, apart from the absence of espressine (or rather, eyes), the most impressive thing is the particular positions that can take its joints. Lord Rupert the contortionist ... and are in fact convinced that her life was lived for most of the time inside a box.

The helmet of gold at Raffa, sorry, but it is exceptional. I really do not understand why it was taken away.

Perhaps the warm Caribbean to which Rupert has migrated to overcome the bitter cold of winter Trentino persuaded him to cut a less demanding .... plating a platinum blonde bob with a moisture to the stars I know that is not at all easy.

The poses softpornoattore then complete the characterization of the character.

Lord Rupert, dirty old man of wood without eyes and the ability to be able to rotate their necks (as well as wrists and ankles) to 360 degrees.

I will not make any comment on the imagination of the boxer ... I do not think it is needed.
Trento, a city that always offers wonderful surprises!

Listening .. ♫ ♪

Ophelia

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tomorrow could be worse ... it could rain!

I know that consistency is not my intimate quality .. but I am willing to return, at least, I'm thinking of trying, leaving the outcome to chance and without promise.

I changed the blog title, to score in its renewal. New era, my personal prophecy Maya .... here today is December 21, 2012, the known world ends and another begins.

So much for "do not make promises, you have no expectations" ... I'm bothered even the apocalypse!

I have absolutely no desire to update any of the events of recent months, partly because they are so boring and stagnation impressive. A static and vicious confusion.

A news, however, the do: I bought a small camera. Small is an understatement, a pet name to send the mother-daughter love I have for the creature ... not because is really small ... is actually a nice monster concentrated in technology and lens cover you! I called Sandy and she is also reviving my Flickr account.

Today snow, sun and moving shots. Yesterday, shoes and gifts. The day before yesterday, Happy Birthday to all.

(intuitively this is a step in the movement today: the jump of the Wolf. Fortunately, there are those who assist in me ...)

I love the new post to Blogger formatting. I estimate Blogger. Thanks Blogger. A bit 'of pandoro Blogger? No, Blogger does not seem fat at all, the one slice you can afford! How would you like Blogger!

Listening ... ♫ ♪

Happy Holidays!

(Xmas) Ophelia

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walking


Sometimes, especially at the back, I like to make me walk.
walk on the sidewalk for a quarter of an hour, and I run to the road that otherwise would on a crowded tram.
If it were not for the smog, the smell of exhaust and noise from Dante's circle, is pleasant to walk to this part of the city.

When I do this way, step in front of an embassy.
front of the entrance, two soldiers stationed.
I pass every time.
They are young, much younger than me.
And in the hand have a huge machine gun. A real weapon, coarse mica that does not happen always to see real guns.
Security, they say. More soldiers on the streets.
But I am afraid when I see these children dressed in green with a long black cane.
Every time we pass by, I think that the object can kill people.
fact, I think there have just created that object to kill people.
not that has other functions. Pure
a brick if you head into the nose can kill you. But not for what they built.

So when I pass them I always feel like I look bad.
And then imagine that for some reason one of these shoot me from behind.

Yesterday I made a Christmas gift.
Shortly after passing the embassy, \u200b\u200bI found a stand on a CD that I like a lot, and I no longer know how long have not bought an original disc. I paid three
€.
I have not thought about the military and their machine guns.
Then it rained all night.

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Nail

This morning I leave home to go to work.
opened near my house recently a new shop.
The inscription on the small sign that serves as a sign reads " Nail .
The thing that comes to mind is something similar to surgery.
As if for some reason or some illness at some point you fall off the nails.
pernso So these brave warriors who do this difficult job but fundamental to the community.
I do not know of stories of nails falling off, and I already know that the nail does not mean that.
E 'treatment aesthetic, something similar to fake nails, but much more professional, beautiful and artistic.
I wonder as I walk, how many women may have this kind of passion, so as to justify the opening of a shop that does just that.

Then I get in the subway , and the crowd of people huddled beside me there is a girl. In
hand has a mobile phone.
Strange I think, is even below the ground. But she
type and type.
So, curious, lengthen a bit 'look. He
deleting sms. All sms
of a person.
Trying to force my astigmatism, I seem to read the display always the same sender: " Love."
Delete messages automatically.
But first reads the contents briefly, a volunteer flagellation of words before you delete them forever.
It moves fast on the keys, and fingers has blue nails.
Grosse, unnatural. Painted to perfection, full of care and artistic decorations.
Nail , I think.
was not done to rebuild a broken love affair.

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tonight

I like the bitter cold of recent days.
I find it real and alive.
you stick on me, but it is sincere.

If you ask me how my life changed last year, I drink a sip of my beer, and then began to speak.
seems secure in his gestures and manner, but gentle, and I do not know where to start. I speak and say
sent a lot of different things, but as I say, it's me I'm trying to bring order and try to understand how it changed my life last year.

are poor in concepts and words, but I'll have a world that screams.
I can not be blamed, if I try to confine an explosion inside a box.

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The time

I started this blog as a writing exercise.
To write, to have a space to write reflections, and share them with others.
E 'for almost a month since the public anything.
not have the time.
Maybe there I would have a better organization of course, but this is not the point.

Time is the most precious resource we have. I wrote the S. once in an email, and I recognize myself in this statement.
time for yourself, time to reflect.
seems that the time is never enough, crushed by the work, commitment, and lots and always necessary.
And then you are wrong because the time is not enough, why do not you have done something you wanted or needed, or just because you have done everything, but they are finite energy.

I promised myself that I used the time well.
Because everything is important, even lying down and close your eyes, five minutes.
I promised myself that never again would be crazy to be anywhere, for the things that overlap.
Nevermore I lose time to myself, whatever that means.

I'm trying, not always, I am succeeding.
But that's something.

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Destiny home


aspirin that dissolves in a glass of water reminds me of a beautiful shot film.
I have taken two or three in these days, then today I discovered that there were not enough, and that the mercury thermometer is firmly on the side of the red zone.

Sometimes I like to think that fate could affect our lives.
Tomorrow morning I took a train and spent the weekend out.
I like to think it was good that I have a fever.
and remaining at home, after all, was better.
as I know, like if I had started, I'd fallen into a manhole to another city, or would have happened one of those things you read in the newspapers.
type is one that took a day off that day because the undicisettembre did not want to go to his office in the world trade center.

I like to think so, and if we think it is really a small consolation.
's just a thought optimistic, with a stuffy nose and irritating cough.

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Two different cities


I spent the weekend wandering around the streets of downtown.
With the sun beating down on Saturday and Sunday with heavy rain, I immersed myself in what is left of corners of history, admired and welcomed by walking, riding roughshod over roads timeless.
The Tiber Island, the Jewish ghetto, yet so seemingly genuine, Castel Sant'Angelo.
bridges, paving stones, statues, churches.

Today is Monday, and I tip arrival at the gates that mark the entrance to the subway.
closed for a strike of which, like many, did not know existed.
While I get on a bus crowded enormously, I think that perhaps strikes generally do not make much sense. They are used to create discomfort
, stressing the reasons for which workers have decided to fold their arms.
Of the two, only one has failed in full: create discomfort. But no one
, of \u200b\u200btoo many people clogging the entrances to the bus, he knew the reasons for the strike.
did not know the lady by the shrill voice and annoyed, and insisted that from the point where she was, she could not ported yet to make room for others.
did not know the guy with the beard, and called on it to stop at too many who tried to get on the bus already full to the limit. I did not know
not either, as I looked around hot, as I looked out of the portion of the window I could see, crazy traffic of cars, buses, trucks and motorbikes.
It took me twice as long to reach their destination. Many have spent twice, three times the patience.
And no, I bet, will go on to inquire why today's subway strike.

While the thick air smelled of sweat and exhaust fumes, which are thought two different cities.
may not be the same thing, that paradise of narrow streets and ancient ruins, ancient stones and smiling people who have explored the weekend, and that hell of frenzied people, crammed into tight spaces by blacks palaces of smog, with souls paved the mutual mistrust and discomfort for others.

two different cities that border, and that you look at askance.

PS: The other side of town , can be found on www.chicche.wordpress.com

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complex sensitivity

There is fresh air, a nice breeze in one step from being invasive.
Above the sky is dark and the moon seems very high.
The wind moves the clouds, but the moon is always visible, forming around it a rainbow of light. From
below are tiny.

Every day that passes, I feel that is very much alive.
Agile and lucid thoughts from light.
Enough to afford the luxury of taking as true the trifles of this world.

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The photo on the headstone

When I walk in a cemetery, the first thing I look at is the photo on the graves of the dead.
I look at their face, their expression.
Then I look at the date of birth, to death. I do a quick mental calculation, and on the basis of their age, I try to imagine the cause of their death.

Despite anxiety, pain, full of mystery and horror that sends me death, I walk through the cemetery offers a pleasant spiritual tranquility.

The picture on the plaque is the image that we will be more impressed of the missing person.
Our dear will always have the same face, when you're going to find.

few days ago I thought of the fate that accompanies an image.
bet that the sense of satisfaction a bit 'frivolous, which accompanies each of us for coming when we see particularly well in a photograph, giving way to a completely different feeling, if we knew that this is the image that will end up on our grave .

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2000 + Extras ten


If I try to write the coming year, I start to write 20010. Ventimiladieci .
nearly ten years that I put two zeros when I write date, mean something. These

year zero does not succeed well in focus. Then it happens that a pass decade and then it is quite clear, and everyone says it is all so years '9 0, is a '80s haircut, and so on.

Today on TV Big Brother make, as ten years ago.
Now, it would take far too simplistic and banal this is considered the emblem of the paucity of recent years.
I'm too optimistic to think so.
At least I hope.
The optimist thinks this is the best of all possible worlds. The pessimist knows it's true . *

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history


I discover today that the layout of this blog is the exact same blog Clemente Mastella. The
that fills me with joy, and hope that one day someone is confused and exchanges for Blivido Blog Mastella. Today news came out
of new legal problems on the family Mastella.
This character, referred to on the internet are mostly photos comic and grotesque, it was even minister.
Then I remember that Mastella resigned as minister after legal proceedings.
All this happened less than two years ago. And I barely remember it. Mastella
And if I think I only have a vague recollection , a dishonest person. These extras
history, to which the news has moments of fame, they often claim to be more important than they really are.

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Past experience

When I was a child once, I went a thorn in his finger.
My mother, to convince me that it was necessary to remove it with a sterilized needle to the fire, told me that if I had not removed, the plug would slowly penetrated my body, and then would end heart. Or at least that is what I remember. The feeling that gives me that memory.
Even today, if a piece of me something slips under the skin, subconsciously I think it is appropriate to remove as soon as possible, otherwise it ends badly.

Once as a child, I was taken dall'irrefrenabile instinct of children to taking things apart.
I discovered that a big piece of the cupboard you could remove and replace easily. One of the long sticks of wood that divide the piece of furniture in different departments.
that day behind the cue of wood that I had removed, I found a big cockroach .
I was scared to death, and immediately put it back in place the piece of furniture. Do not you ever took off from his place.
Even today, when I look at the mobile, I think it is hidden behind a precise spot a cockroach.

What can we be us, than the of our life experiences have made us who we are?

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the use of conditional

When I have too many commitments and stress.
When I have too much free time I get down and I am lazy.

E 'that is not a never satisfied, or never should be.
Always a little 'inadequate , always a bit' different from what you had imagined.
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who would like to have them straight hair curly. And vice versa .
Who wants the permanent job less monotonous.
Who wants to travel a lot more stability.
who lives abroad would return to Italy. Who's side would
do everything to stay there.
Who wants to fuck a steady relationship with my colleague, the neighbor and the girl of his cousin.
Who wants a stable broom varied.

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screw urban

the past the traffic light.
past lives to hear guitar solos discounted singers on command, effeminate voices.
the past to speed up the yellow
past lives screaming
the horn to say No, No, No
but he has already placed the brush on the glass, and then, No, No No, fuck, yes
the past to throw poison from the tube.
past lives to breathe the poison of the tube.
A change in the air strikes arbre magique
breathing synthetic lily, lavender lab.
screw black fingers, red eyes
loud noise, shock cough.
Too hot or too cold. Or too fake.
screw aligned with inhuman rhythms.
screw loose screws from empty. Screw
coached by
live well in this nothing plastic
black smog.

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There deaf ...

says that unioneuropea wants to limit the volume of the ipod and readers emmeppittre.
says that ten million Europeans are likely to become deaf because they listen to music at gun inside the ear.

Deaf.

I should already be nice and dull.
I always ride with headphones. From what I remember I've got more music in his ears.
I remember the way I did with 311 to go at school. Average. I took the bus that was placed around longer to hear least the A side of the box I had in my walkman.
And then years and years, went from a Walkman cassette player to cd, all'emmeppittre, which does not seem true that is so small and even if you do not miss anything and I bump fits in your pocket or wherever I put it inside and We slap a lot of music that once I would have to bring a case continuously.

It's another thing. Perhaps the approach that I have I derived from listening to music on the move.
If a disc I like me listen to him until his death. I go by fixing his own, and I feel just that.
Conversely, if something does not I like, I usually give him a second chance or even a third or a fourth.
will be for that.
E 'that once, when you went around with the tapes, they could bring you one.
And if that patch, you were forced to feel the same, the mica could change.

However, the music on headphones.
I've got forever, for a lifetime, plus I have it almost always well maximum volume.
Because I travel by subway and the subway rattles and whistles and bangs and screams and makes noises constantly, that if one wants to feel that there is peace in one thing, just can not do.
And then for the strength to put up.
What then, you would like to tell you. When thou hast
the song that just wanted to hear . Or what you download a dose of energy throughout the body, which is a treat, and it was just what we wanted, there in that place at that time.
How can you not put it at maximum volume?

So I am one of those who become deaf, but for now we feel great.

What makes me laugh then those who say "Oh but if you always have the music to the ears you get lost in all the beauty." The people, what happens, the world around you.

I agree, of course. But
you would like to take a epic journey, a dream ride with the last album of Mogwai? Want to fly on Heil to the Thief by Radiohead?
Travelling on flying carpets, offset, dreaming, imagining, dreaming, walking on psychedelic path, roads imaginary worlds that you want.

Then open your eyes, and be at Pietralata next stop Tiburtini Mountains.

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travel

A September all is the desire to play sports, type again the lives of all day after the holidays, and then as the new year, which all have good intentions and the desire for sports and keep fit.
And then there's the line to gyms and all are part of the pool, or taekwondo or spinning or pilates and all names that I had never heard before.

I've never had a whole is not necessary, but in September this year, yet I feel full of energy to throw .
So I'm going to run the park. Without exaggerating. Slowly, a low rate, but steadily. It makes me feel good, makes me feel better. I download. Relaxes me. There is a nice park
by my part, great. I
I've spent a lot of time in my life. A walking. A play ball with friends. A smoking. A drink a beer. To make love. To relax. To think, to read, cry. It 's a beautiful park, really even now that I'm going to run.

The Park has three categories of people, almost exclusively. Parents with
children, who want to run around, and then mom and dad take them outdoors instead of making them stay inside and play with nintendo Diesse.

Those who go to run, of course, with sweaty shirts and shorts el'aipod and out of breath. Those athletes who train really, and those Panzoni that at least they try. And then they

with the dogs, who are the majority. Who meet with others with dogs, such as appointment of a certain time of day. Or are solitary and their dogs as well, and then you do 'is a long walk without talking to anyone. Or meet dogs that do not know and barking, growling or greet you, go understand. Today
tried to fuck a dog another dog, with the typical movement of the dogs legs and pelvis in the air that pushes and pushes.
Then the owner of the dog horny says, "What are you doing that you are well sterilized and addrizza you when you go!"
step I ran with my steady pace and I see this scene.
And I watch them, and laugh , and step forward.

And then I think it's nice . That everything is beautiful in here. Let the people know, socialize share spaces and moments. I miss people who you know. You speak, you compare, you smile. What are friendly, that they are happy.
seems odd, does not happen to many other places in this city. In our cities. A microcosm of socialization. Clean air. Well-being.

Then I think it's not right. What the fuck are the others? Because the air beautiful park if there are only these three categories? As if they had any merit detail, as if they were rewarded for something.
We are all so close, we reject each other, not even if we meet we say goodbye. But the world is another.
's funny I know it ran, not stopping to reflect, as the turtle of Toby Lightman.

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this sense

I this sense of dissatisfaction.
Like when you think things are going in one direction and then however not the case.
I have this sense of disappointment . Like when
there and then it seems that things are good, but then you realize you're been mortified.
happens to me I always do. What I perceive that something struck me negatively, but I can go on and smile and keep calm and not to have reactions.
As if they give you a punch in the face, but you start to feel pain after ten minutes. As a ' local anesthesia. Sometimes it is an advantage. Sometimes a disadvantage. Vary.

I have this sense of local anesthesia. I have this sense
of sadness, a bit '. This
sense. A sense . A sense of this history.
What now if you say "Spirit" is automatic that the colleagues of the song. Pure
in tips that will by Google, if you write a "sense", suggests you Vasco Rossi.
Crazy.
Last night I was driving, and radio have been a medley of Vasco Rossi live.
To me that is not obnoxious Vasco. I've got well of his discs.
And 'I can not stand' what is the unqualified success that everyone should consider it the greatest just because it is so now. The fact that it can also fart in his records, so that's fine anyway, but is vasco vasco . Boh.
And then there was' I'm on the radio medley, acoustic guitar and voice. And he sang a piece of every song, all slow pieces, all things like Unacanzonepertè or incredibileromantica, all attached. And to hear on the radio was also a certain effect, because every time I attacked a different song was' I roar like a football team when he scored, the roar and then melted into one great voice that accompanied that of Vasco. Always like roar, and then all they sing. For the whole medley.
What then is one thing to hear on the radio. I'm at a concert of Vasco Rossi've never been. But I guess if you go I want to hear him sing, not eighty assholes that I scream out of tune in the ears that Laura is expecting a child for Christmas.

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blividi

So one night I want to write and it happens that I open a blog.
I've never done one of my really, that is.
will not last, probably, but what is it that hard these days?
an impulsive act, here. What I needed.

happens that tonight we go to dinner at a chic place to no avail. Fake
chic, that is. Like, let's tone.
You forget our orders and we remain there, an hour and a half, waiting for dishes that are prepared in five minutes.
I accidentally, with a clumsy gesture, I back him in a full glass of Falanghina. I soak
shirt and pants, altogether. I'm cold. The door of the restaurant is open and enters a persistent fucking draft of this young fall. And I'm all wet. And our dishes do not come.

stink of wine from head to toe, and I just drank two sips.
When I get home I think it would be funny if the police stop me. With the
alcoltest and everything.
I imagine the whole scene, really.
But then nothing happens.
Just like every time I try to imagine something in the details.

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Ethics gastronomy mythological



Some questions about where they have developed several discussions recently and as there were many different points of view: Is it ethical to eat a mermaid?
removing the top we throw away (or we give proper burial, not to offend anyone's sensibilities), the bottom, ie the tail, a large, fleshy, succulent tail, could be eaten in slices a bit 'like swordfish ... or not?
Here the ethical question: If the siren has her breasts, meaning it is a mammal (or lay eggs?), And eat it would be like eating a dolphin ... Who would eat a dolphin?
must then see if a mermaid is actually a mammal. Let me explain: what if the breasts (small and always hidden beneath the concigliette not surprise me that they were bonded and non-removable) were in fact only beautify the siren and did really eggs? At the bottom of Triton has had a string of all daughters of the same age. Okay, Triton could be a merman lively and having impregnated more sirens in one fell swoop .. But not the answer I would give as a foregone conclusion.
personally do not eat it if I knew that a siren is a mammal ... was simply a fish then yes. Oh, it's also true that there is fish and fish .. the trout eat it peacefully .. but how about a clown fish ... as Nemo? Personally I do not think I'd do great qualms about eating Nemo ... here, do not touch her dad Doris nor I are so nice.
As the question points to potentially many other people, I went looking through Google for answers San ... and I found the Islamic rules on the use of sirens: Ruling on eating mermaids
is not a joke!

Then there is the question harpies, which complicates a little 'things .. being half woman and half bird. They say devoured sailors, so I do not think you put big pious scruples to the chicken legs that would arise.

On the ethics side: the question of the siren .. would be unethical to eat beef and horse meat minotaur centaur? Those mammals are definitely .. but then some people (not myself) quietly eating cows and horses ...! If the siren
with us, however, the question arises only culinary .. with the Minotaur and the Centaur, which are mirrored in human, there is also the issue of waste so unbelievably parts of man. And here's the solution ... recycles the top the centaur and the bottom of the Minotaur and you get an attractive big man ... teetotaler and perhaps a little 'brutal, but always is big man. Who did not like the rough mix, you could always replace the top of the centaur with the upper part of a merman ... that, I am told, have special singing talent ...!
And by the way you would a dinner of meat and fish (but always remember .. mammal meat, or at least the suspicion persists). If anyone sees

Nostromo, he eats tuna tuna in front of the funeral of the aforementioned tuna, put the questions ... is a bit 'sadistic, it is true, but the point of view of a sea dog is always comfortable in the weight problem.

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It's getting hard to be someone, But it all works out
It doesn't matter much to me

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Bambi

few days ago, while I came home in the car, after spending Friday, I met a deer. It was uncertain on the wall that ran along the street and looked at me: do not know whether to cross or go back to where he was popped in the bushes. I slowed down, slowed down and I stopped ... in the middle of the road, watching silently. A shiver ran down his spine.
The last time I saw a deer was evening, and the road I was traveling was another. At that time the fawn was placed in front of me. Same behavior on my part, I had slowed down, slowed down and I had stopped in the street, looking into his eyes with his eyes fixed on the headlights, blinded perhaps, and on me.
some things have happened after that, changes.
Maybe I have a fawn marking periods of change. Or maybe not.
look and it makes me sick.

Chicken Pasta Machine

Everybody Loves Michelle, why should not they? Michelle is beautifully perfect. Michelle is what all women want to be, and what everyone would like to have: an idea in flesh and bones (bones and muscles well-structured carved) it is impossible not to like and impossible not to hate the same time.
Long dark hair with some reddish reflection, incredibly blue eyes, that blue of clear and precise, almost artificial were it not for the purple flames around the pupil. Michelle is one of those women with a long neck which he throws his head back when he laughs, while the fingers of one hand, nails perfectly groomed, you touch your throat. Legs slender, toned, well-proportioned body with a slender, sinuous, but not too thin nor too full: an ideal weight following the ideal line. Michelle is funny, sarcastic, but not so blatant or reckless, never inappropriate. It is brilliant, but measured: low. Michelle is always shaved and well made-up, hair tidy. In the morning, just got up, Michelle is not looking in the mirror, there are no signs of cushion in her cheeks delightfully freckled, dark circles or puffiness under the eyes well designed, and if any cowlick threatens to break that perfect beauty divine long fingers to grab him and Michelle with a strong move the hair back into place, beautiful, wavy, fluffy ... without a trace of split ends.
Michelle wears beautiful clothes that fall to the brush. Bring heels as if they were floating sneakers so comfortable and at ease, and bring sneakers as if they were high heels is so elegant and graceful. Michelle illuminates every room with her smile, is part of that small circle of people around the world can bring serenity and peace in every place, as soon as they cross the threshold. Calm fretful children, make them laugh, calm the snarling dogs, make them roll on the ears and lower back to get his belly rub. A melodious voice, never shrill, well-modulated. Michelle is a model, but only to pay the rent on his apartment in the center of bright, white, light wood, where the light has decided to live forever away but miraculously the dust. Scent of vanilla and lavender, just did laundry and freshly baked bread, even a mite, and impeccable taste so as to cause a surge of envy even annoying in swallows, attracted by warmth and holiness nidiare decide on time every year on its roof, without getting dirty. Michelle is not only a model, as I said this job is just a way of keeping (at medium high) and to pay for college: yes, Michelle is studying to become a pediatrician. In fact, Michelle does volunteer work with blind children, because she does not care about being appreciated for its inhuman beauty, prefers that people are overwhelmed by the seductive personality. Michelle is a vegetarian, tofu cuisine but the mouth of the unsuspecting carnivore seems calf. Michelle does not smoke but you can judge who is. Stimulating interlocutor and impeccable hostess, Michelle knows how to put guests at ease. In the bathroom, the towels personalized (embroidered by the skillful and quick hands of Michelle in the studio that afternoon, a photo shoot and the calf of tofu) await visitors, who can take them home as souvenirs, the smell of it will be Michelle imprinted forever. Michelle believes in a higher power but is detached from debasing doctrines, liberal but not radical. Michelle has a green thumb, in fact, Michelle has all five fingers green, skilled in crafts, creative, bright, coordinated. Michelle is a sex bomb. Articulate, uninhibited but not vulgar. She loves the sport, Michelle knows how to enthuse for anything. Michelle has a boyfriend in love. Michelle has a loving family, together, a family of whites equally simat Robinson.
Michelle has only one defect does not exist. Thanks to Michelle

not exist.