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aberrations of Christmas

remember with joy that, as a child, he expected Christmas? Making the tree, wait for gifts, spy in the kitchen while preparing the food of the great dinner and walk around the streets the center decorated with flashing lights, music and colors ... that poetry, memories ...

now ... What a nightmare: You wake up in the morning of 1 December and the first thought that gives you a good morning is as follows: "Fuck, in a little 'is Christmas!"

Leaving aside the consideration that the previous Christmas seems to spend no more than a month (and that takes you to countless tristerrime and ruminations on how to fly the years, and soon you'll find yourself surrounded by grandchildren to make sweaters and to combat osteoporosis), at the age of just over 30 years you realize that Christmas brings with it an infinite series of broken boxes, monsters, aberrations of real! Want some examples? Here is served:

put it in first place, since we have entered into full pre-Christmas weather, traffic and the amount of spasmodic stoned, streets in those days. Platoons idiot looking for ideas and gifts as they walk into a trance in the street and sidewalks, looking glued to the windows, loads of bags as the sherpas of Rinascente, Intimissimi, Coin. You poor unfortunate that you left because you forgot to buy milk, come in spite of yourself pressed against the window of Calzedonia, and the only way to get rid of the old croocchio aunts who press against you, enchanted by the complete candy pink with sequins that "would be perfect for Teresa," is to get involved in the consultation, noting: "if I buy that horror is not even my grandmother who sews sequins on pants!"

If you are driving does not improve the situation: driving, attempting to convince you that basically it is nice to the spirit of Christmas, and biofeedback to help this plant on the stereo you a selection of the most famous Christmas songs. And so, just as "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" spreads goodness in your little cabin, and have your eye becomes more joyful and persuades you that we are all better people, a cry and a foreign devil horns hurt your ear Christmas: "A fool! That car is mine!" "A stoned, trovatene another, I saw him first!" - Scoured, sleeping peacefully at the pedestrian who is waiting for a bus and stoned ... goes against blaspheming the next famous divine child ... because at Christmas we are all better people!

Beautiful are those who, for lack of time and desire, decide to make all the gifts in the same store and they forgot the tastes and peculiarities of the recipients. So you choose the theme of the moment: "This year I buy everything in the library" ... it does not matter if the great-aunt Amelia is illiterate, find someone willing to read the latest book by Emilio Fede, no?

Personally, I remain baffled by the prices of food Christmas: a cake business (presumably made of chili powders, spices, baking powder and instant ... Avogli Mr Maina to say "slowly ... good good. .. seeeeeee !!!!) is around € 5-6: Luckily, I am not with my ex, who used to discard all the raisins, depositing it lovingly on a napkin and then throw it ... aho, today would have been at least 2 € of stuff, tze!

And you can turn on the television these days? Advertising chain on the worst products for children (because you know, they are the target greedy at Christmas) in a day of rest from work I discovered that there are puppets who dance the twist, walk, speak ... but so far nothing new ... that I did not know is that now there is also the doll scureggia (and who says, "Mommy, I did prrrrr ".... that shit, just to stay in theme), then there crying and Ciccio Bello that will calm down only if you put near Winnie Pooh ... but what does it say? Mo 'well dolls misbehave? We arrived at the doll in the doll? Are you kidding ?????
The other day, the offers of a hypermarket, I caught "The foals Barbie !!!!": but that is, a sex toy??

short, is a delusion, a madhouse ... I must admit that as I was a smart little girl, my perceptions were far too large child on Christmas! From the top of my wisdom, the feeling I have is that of a collective abandonment to un'ebete madness of Christmas ... the real one there is nothing left, and perhaps the soft doll today do not even know what it celebrates: I'm not surprised go see a child today in front of a giant crib and ask his mother: "Mum, but that doll cries, burps or is that if you give them the Play Station ended all square Tomb Raider and then turns into a Pokemon?"

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strength in

Today Miss Grumbler not joking. For once, no small irony and sbofonchiamenti newspapers in the great tragedies of my life ... just a bitter and a bit 'guilty thinking about real life stories that I / surround us, and often do not know or want to ignore.
For once my work as a market researcher I was away from home with their usual dash, or dall'inamidato manager and graphics of its new credit card, to launch the shadowy world of the immigrant population.
From within a week and go from the homes of Chinese, Moroccan, Ukraine, Peru, Philippines, Italy in 10 or one year, immersing strong smell of their kitchen, in the extravagance their furniture, their Italian far-fetched at times barely mentioned.
COMPANY PRINCIPAL OBJECTIVE: to discover the eating habits of many immigrants now in order to pack & advertising products that are able to take in the network of Western consumerism.
GRUMBLER MISS TARGET (in addition to meeting the company) to take this opportunity to understand what makes an immigrant from X to drop everything and come to Italy in search of fortune.

I was warmly welcomed, dates stuffed with giant African rice with culantro and other gadgets to me so far unknown, and numb with tales participated and suffered in the history of each ...

... all different stories, held together by the invisible thread of despair, a kind of despair totally etranea my life on the edge of the inhabitants of the First World.

So I discovered that you can get by knowing that your mother died in your country, and that you will not be able to attend his funeral, because you're an illegal, and if you leave the country then you can not return there, I discovered that a red shirt you buy it only when you pit one you have on him, because there is no reason to have two, I discovered that for some words such as "leisure", "pizza with friends" and "shopping" are abstract terms, of which we hear, but do not fall into the vocabulary of his life. I discovered that you can work for 18 hours straight without ... which then leads nell'esaurimento nervous and anti-stress therapies.

And so, as I came home on my new shoes, bought on a whim, I felt lucky and a bit 'silly, for my daily loss in my dissatisfaction in my complaints in my big problems.

I learned my lesson going to Africa, but then the shiny Western drama that takes place, my life has gradually blurred memories, thoughts and intentions. But quste silent shadows are also here, with me on the subway crowd, trampled upon the sidewalks.

not get me wrong: I do not renounce my happy life, are not obscured by syndromes S. Francis, who will take me to strip all of my possessions (which?) To follow the path of want and poverty ... but maybe there is something to learn. If under the weight of these stories there is still the spirit to make a smile, then there is something to learn!

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Free Lance? ... No, thanks! The company of astute

Traviata from a hard week of work, I decided to draw the sacred tablets of the freelance sorry. Or you still looking for jobs, do not be fooled by the sweet honey of the profession and slothful, and yearn with force on a chair and a desk Ikea to rest your butt in perpetuity. Repair your ears from the mellifluous song of the siren of independence, it will turn in a piercing scream, sooner or later ...

... do not believe me? Look here:

1) The freelance thinks to be master of himself, and to work with its time and its rhythms. Result: works from Monday to Friday, Easter, Christmas, Saturdays and Sundays;

2) When the freelance basks in the sun of August on the beach, surrounded by a thousand other people, can not help but think livid anger at that moment, someone is paying the thousand people who innocently sguazzettano in the crystal, while he is losing precious working days ... feeling like a slacker, and the super-smashing work that will shoot in September to amortize month-nothing;

3) When the evenings of winter, the freelance warns worrying shivers down my back, a nagging sore throat and intestinal dangerous landslides, can not afford to think, "Tomorrow I call for a sick day," but imbottirà of antipyretics and analgesics, saying: "Shit, I have to go to work tomorrow with the flu!"

4) The freelance work for everyone, but everyone thinks that only works for them. This implies that all ask you to deliver the work on the same day.

5) The freelancers can not afford to be nasty and ill-treated his colleagues did not ... the freelance colleagues, but only customers and customers - you know - is always right.

6) The freelance fees are not removed upstream, no, must pay for it alone ... and I assure you, for those like me who do not have hair on my stomach to jump the fence to the fertile pastures of small evaders , is a double turning of chestnuts!

7) When the freelancer has a week off from work to devote himself to just relax and tends to be pampered by these reassuring thoughts: "Damn, I did not call anyone, I'll end on the pavement!" "Oh God, I have to pay VAT, I need work!"


short, young shoots of the labor market, when you meet those young people climbing on their macchinucce are polished, which fill the sheets of stamps fuel bill and ask for the cap in the morning, do not be intimidated: squared shoulders, stick out your chest and proudly sventagliategli under your nose dignitossisimo Co. Co. Pro

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Lay carpets, throw petals, for the Society of dodger:

Applause to you, young girl full of hopes, instead of wasting money on the grate of the goddess Minerva hasten in droves to audition for the GF and Veline: You are assured of success, fame and doors;

Incense to you, sprightly old lady frequents clubs and theaters in bridge, for obtaining disability pension and accompany, who fortunately still pretending dementia not hit you, you just removed an aid to one of your own age who perhaps had a right indeed;

bow to you, men of the TV, which clouded our minds with less and less worthy of human intelligence programs: there are cultivating a large flock of sheep more docile;

Congratulations to you, men of humanitarian organizations, which transformed the collected funds for the poor people in smoke, or dry food for dogs to be sent to the children of Africa do you see the thank you to wag their tails?

Then for you, a skilled politician by easy promises, you have the wit to shape the law on your personal trouble: You have secured a peaceful night and happy dreams;

Treats you, the oligarchs of the Earth, that nourished the public opinion with the tasty flavor of democracy, exporting vulgar dictatorship were conquering the world;

I take my hat off all'esimia Company of the dodger, who holds the fate of the World that is the honest look stupid, naive pure, upright ... the loser and that is making the place where I live more and more suffocating ...

dedicated to you ... the thought of a man who was right, too long ago. No, do not try to remember who he is: did not participate in any reality, then you probably do not know: If I had

fire arderei 'the world
if I was the wind, the tempestarei
if I were water, the 'drowning
if I were God, mandereil' en deep

(Angiolieri Cecco, 1260 to 1312?)

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The attack of the grasshopper killer

me back after day of silence with a dry history of the tragic hours of yesterday evening, at which it is materialized in one of my fears with a capital P 3: the grasshopper in the house.
Before any of you take me for stupid and contacts the CIM (Centre for Mental Health) to come to me asking him to withdraw early, you should know that in my life looming large and three phobias conclusive: the Earthquake, the Sharks and ... grasshoppers ...

... yes, I know that you have just described in the previous post my fear of airplanes, but that fear is a secondary, it can be to live ... nothing that a few years of good psychotherapy can not cure!

But no ... the grasshopper that is part of the real fears, what you destroy the mind and will liquefy your knees. The grasshopper leaps, Zompa, flutters ... all in one pico-second ... you do not even have time to come get a panic attack that she is already printed on your face, and looks at you with her eyes aliens ...

... mind you: not to oppose the grasshopper in absolute terms, not the extinction of hope, not the ailment to see if the embankments in the meadows! Of course, it does not fill me with immense joy, but I can bear to live with this monstrous and terrifying dimension to be part of the world. But when the monstrous

be above the purple of my small and intimate space of 27 sq.m. studio ... well, there I was running a bit 'my virtual ass! But

way to chronicle the event:

8:15 am: I am quietly sitting at my computer to spippacchiarmi kilos of mail (spam) that I have arrived, when the corner of my eye I see my cat to jump model Superman the kitchen, and almost simultaneously Spotting an unidentified object, but it certainly fitted with large wings, rattling furiously against the wall to escape attack the lazy cat;

8.15 am and 1 second: In my mind crowd several alternatives in reverse order of "Terrific": 1) "E 'a moth" 2) "' a bat" 3) "Shit : It's a fucking grasshopper! "

0re 8.15 and 3 seconds, leaving a ferret as my computer station, stumble in the cat preparing a run for the second attack, landed awkwardly on the carpet, how I position it in leopard skin, crawl to the bathroom, I shut the door behind him: I'm safe!

8.15 am and 10 seconds: I allow myself a moderate panic attack (tachycardia, salivation zero, pulse of adrenaline at the temples), followed by a burst sad observation: "I lost sight of the enemy! Now where the hell you will be hunted? I need reinforcements, or do not go out alive!"

8:16 PM: in a fit of courage I open the bathroom door, I resume my leopard-skin structure, the individual cordless, grab him, re-crawl to the bathroom, begging in the path Filters, tobacco and maps (I can not think clearly if I do not smoke), I closed the door behind him ... another sad fact: the enemy is unseen, it could be anywhere!

AT 8:16 AND 30 SECONDS: dial the phone number of my boyfriend, and muttered a series of disconnected phrases, such as "Help!" "Fear" "locked in the bathroom" "Come!" "Immediately." On the other part, he answers with patient voice (which illuminates perfectly right just a bit of discomfort) that comes immediately.

8.30: My boyfriend comes home and finds me in the hall (taken from an excess of courage are heroic exit from the bathroom), trembling like a pale blank of the Stil Novo. THE HUNT BEGINS.

TOOLS OF THE TRADE: scale, scope, Swiffer broom handle, Colin colander APPLIED TO STICK WITH THE SCOTCH pull down 'crutches, small towel, Bath towel, INDIANA JONES HAT, we are well equipped, there is no escape!

PASSWORD: grasshopper we need VIVA! I repeat: TOBACCO KILL THE ENEMY! The next hour

spent in a hide and unnerving: the enemy is capoccella, studying our moves with his computer and look flutters intermittently (to scatemarmi principle of a migraine that I had saved for 10 days), the boyfriend tries to flush him out with skillful strokes broom likely to produce noise. The grasshopper is smart, and refines its strategy: from above is wedged behind the refrigerator, and the hood risbuca Bastard!

After more than an hour, the boyfriend tells me that maybe we should leave it where it is, sooner or later come out, I begin to think of a list of hotels where you can spend the night!

9.30 AM: the house begins to be populated by allies. In order:

Andrea arrives, calmly, suggests: A) set fire to the kitchen; B) open the throttles to stun (but if I did, probably would not be here today to tell you about it), and C) spray a large quantity of insecticide (which reminds me of a sinister scene in Apocalypse Now)

Then comes Secco, which fortunately seems to have scared me almost as much (and this makes me feel less pathetic), pulls up the collar of his sweatshirt and fumbles with the handle of Swiffer broom as the most skilled warriors

Finally comes Amy, that good English is not upset by the satanic alien leaves the wheel, and is equipped with flashlight inspect at close range the possible hiding places. My little heart leaps with new hope.

What follows is the result of other people's tales, because then I have gained a secure location: back against the door (you never know, if it escapes ...) completely covered by jackets hanging at 'coat.

The enemy attacked again, in a desperate sort of swan song, Andrea holds it firmly under the colander colander ... WE WON! THE BEAST 'IN CAGE.

We could torture him, get him to talk and instead the heroes are recognized for their generosity: My boyfriend and Amy carry it lovingly in the garden, and deposit it on a tree.

Awake, bloodthirsty enemy sprung, Next time we will not be so compassionate. It should be 'who sent you and say that in the studio of 27 sq.m. sell dear one's own skin ... and also that the next time PRISONERS WILL NOT!

(later, the headquarters of locusts) ...

"Sir, excuse me sir!" This is the form of my resignation, sir I ask to be discharged from the service, sir!

"I stood quietly in the fact-finding mission, when I was attacked from behind by a giant rat to be color equipped with whiskers and claws, sir "

" Later, I was forced to find a cache of luck because of two large and unpredictable two-legged monsters, which certainly brandishing weapons of mass destruction mass, fitted with long handles, and an Indiana Jones hat Mephisto "

" I was flushed out and captured British artillery and chemical weapons expert in a sadistic "

"I did not talk, sir, to risk my own life ... but this is too much for me, I have a family!"

"I request to be sent to direct traffic, sir"

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But if God did not make us wings ...

there is a reason no?
Okay, yes, I admit it: I have a fear of flying fuck!
And every time, at 7:00 in the morning, I find myself at the boarding gate for Milan, with a few other women and tens of managers already sweaty and pissed off that the rowdy inglesisimi raving in their mobile phone bluetooth headset, I think inexorably that maybe the Fates are about to scissor kick the final thread of my life.

mica I will not be just me to have these phobias, no? Because I do not believe those people who tell me that flying is the greatest thing in the world. No sir! Flying is the most unnatural can happen to a human being ...

It is not an irrational and unjustified fear, those who have no raison d'etre. Oh no! I am the reason my fears and certify. And then, in the long years in which, for business or pleasure, I flew over the globe hurtling at 850 km / 8-10000 meters in height (brrr. .. but there are chills just to read this?? ?), crunching Time and again the stale pretzels Alitalia, or sipping coffee dysenteric mash who dare to call, I pulled down a beautiful handbook to support my fear

1) The airport controls : September 11 aside, there seems to have to go repeatedly anxiety, you and your possessions, under the probing eye of the metal detector? And there seems even more anxiety to see that while going through the suitcase before you hardly reassuring type (which surely will happen on your plane) the two security guys, instead of watching the monitor, are telling their ultimate goal?

2) Instructions on board, but I say, somebody has ever given the safety instructions on a train, a bus, the bus, boat or any vehicle? Why are the hosts, with their plastic smiles and flesh-colored stockings 40 den rush to tell all the emergency exits, the bearings for the oxygen masks, life jacket etc etc etc? Then c'avete a guilty conscience? The guilty conscience? And then, of phrases like: "The crew is fully trained to deal with emergency situations" ... but to anyone who wants to drink? MI want to believe that, as the plane plunges into Japanese dive bomber model, the My hostess is there with his socks and he says: "Miss Quiet, please, the emergency exit is this way, you slip the jacket, if you do not blow in the swollen rubber tubes "????? Is already so if I'm not a spring sganassone to go before me!

3) The pilot, but I say ... you have never seen in the drivers face when they pass the gate? Behind their immaculate starched white shirt and hat, with the faces of ghosts, whites, on average, a bit 'hallucinatory ... I have seen many go, and I assure you that 90% of them I would not even drive the truck shopping!

4) noises, because a plane is an endless source of noise, and the other a more inquientante: pulls in the flaps, pull out the flaps, pull out the cart, the hostess rings the bell. .. if you then happen to the wing ("Excuse me, can give me a place far forward as possible?" = wing, "I can queue?" = ALWAYS !!!!!) on the wing you will have the opportunity to feel the full range of vocals placed precisely at the reactor a few meters away from your ass!

5) The issue: have you ever gone on a long journey, and went to destination as swollen 313 of the wheels of the Donald? I do! And do not try to do gymnastics swelling anti-anti-blood clot that distribute leaflets on the plane: the passenger in front of you surely have pulled back the seat, leaving a living space of about 2.5 cm.

6) messages from the terrorist commander: "The gentlemen are asked passengers to fasten their seat belts," "We have a small technical problem, we will leave the parking lot within minutes," "we are charging aircraft batteries (AIRCRAFT BATTERIES ????); "We called the external drive to turn the engines, because the power does not work"; "All the hostess seated and belted!

And on this set of very valid reasons in my opinion, I would like to add three questions that accompany me the first time I set foot on these infernal contraptions:

1) Where the fuck is the life jacket under the seat?
2) What the hell do I need a life jacket on a flight from Rome to Berlin?
3) Why the heck are still called the Chapel of the baggage compartments of the container in 15 years ... I saw a lean in a hat!

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shaped ', but you and me, that if dovemo of'?

Ok, this morning I woke up with a thought enough complicatino and potentially unsolvable in the head: How the heck does this life? (Not bad for a Monday, no?)

right: we are born and die, and this seems like common ground, and I'm fine! But there seems to be too simplistic as a system? I mean, we are surrounded by a universe that moves up and perfect rules, mathematically impeccable, even on proportions that are called divine. In short, this story of life there is something I do not square!

On the one hand everything seems calculated to the millimeter, we strapped on anything in the cosmic balance, almost magically, we are small dots in a gear that goes with Swiss punctuality for millions of years, and secondly it seems to me that the system of allocation of lives there is something imperfect, or completely random.

Try to leave the house, and tell me how many lives you see in 5 minutes: the neighbor, the ant, the beggar, the manager in the car, the disabled, the dog ... and it goes on and on.

And have you ever wondered: "Why am I me and not the dog? And I Ant and have something to share, and why that child is walking with a wheelchair and I have both legs operated ?"... I sometimes ask myself, and everything leads me to answer that there must be some form of justice in this.

Let's say I passed the story of Paradise, a fabulous place full of cherubs and jokes and jokes ... I stink therefore also the subject of Hell, which I think is a gimmick to avoid someone that men should act total anarchy. So, aside aluzze, pitchforks and the smell of sulfur, I began to wonder over the years: "So where the hell I'm going to end?" "You might have made a universe to be so perfect for farmici, boh, how much? 82.5 years, according to life expectancy mean? It seems to me wasted!"

And above all, that there is justice and perfection that I have a house, a job, belongs to the genus believed to exceed the living, while in my jar terrace runs a creature called ant 6 months if the camper that says well, unless I decide to kill him first with a generous dose of Baygon on cucuzzone? What has he done wrong to be born the ant ant? It 's just a matter of luck? I do not think ... I do not want to believe it, everything else here is a mess.

So, I think the theory of reincarnation can be fully included among my beliefs towards life: a rising path towards perfection in which life after life, take the form of different beings (plants, animals, other types of men) ... yes, I like that, it has its meaning, and so I understand what I mean and the because of different living beings, and I also explain why so often I seem to have a higher knowledge than I should have (it happens to you, right? feel to know that things do not really feel that he should know ... OF MORE 'than you are).

Well, I thought this is reassuring and makes me seem less strange being born in Rome, from a normal family to be happy, while the TV, effective, and often stupid window on the world, show me Ethiopian children with swollen tummy ... or just see a cat hit the road. This thought makes me say: "Ok, now this is so, but sooner or later will also touch me, or maybe I have already touched and then this life I earned it as is, "... and I feel more part of the world, closer to everything.

thing is to understand whether this process is backward, or on the rise. Let me explain: we start from ' lowest and most wretched existence and take the last flight to the perfect life (a little 'the concept of Nirvana) or vice versa?

It would be interesting to take a peek at our universal script! will come from the ant hill, from cow dung hut in savannah, or I will send you in my next life (instinctively opt for the answer to, but I could be wrong ... basically am a life west, apparently seem to be the apex of the pyramid, but maybe we are the pinnacle de sac of our existential curriculum)?

Well, maybe this is a rumination a bit 'too complex to be dealt with on Monday morning.

... but the moral is: if you see an ant, not crush it with your spinster It could be your next great-grandmother!

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Diet

happens one day in July: I get up, put myself in the mirror with sleep still in your face and hair from post nuclear test, and finally exclaimed: "ok, sgrinfia, and right now to go on a diet!"
From there is a moment: he hires a personal trainer for those serious, namely, my friend Francis, said dry (I would say a guarantee!), Which in addition it dries out really well is a po'nazista (in a good way of course!).

Without me he's neither "a" nor "well" I communicate with professional do what I expect: categorically abolished-SUGAR-FAT-FRIED BREAD-CAKES-BEER-WINE-SPIRITS. Instinctively, I think: "What field do? I almost hold my Lardine" but then the idea of \u200b\u200breturning in jeans without having to stay in apnea entices me too. And then we leave, always under the watchful and incorruptible scrutiny.

drastic changes the contents of my fridge, crammed with fennel-celery-cheese light-fruit, and removing all food from single male college ... perfect, seems to be the dispensation of Lambertucci!

Spend the first few weeks in which the cascading breakdown, settles me on my new rhythms food, and the first results begin to appear miraculously: flat stomach, no more soft and reassuring double chin, boobs deflated (but not too much!) clothes that are a bit 'wider: What's cool, it works!

My personal trainer seems happy with me, and sometimes even gives me some small Sgarra.
Meanwhile, boyfriend, friends and relatives began to notice my slow and painful transformation ARE GASATISSIMA.

now up to -6 pounds, takes from 1 in Norway (by 2000-kcal breakfast to save on lunch).

Torno from the holidays, hoping that I can still gloat to the sweet sound of the phrases like, "How did you lose weight!", "you're fine," you really fit ".... BUT NOTHING!

Do not panic! I realize now that people who see me every day can not see my additional small weight losses. My boyfriend (caro!) tries to tell me that every day he sees leaner, but I read in his eyes that he is thinking clearly, "You seem like yesterday!"

I have to find someone who does not see me for a while ', which reminds me of soft and buttery. Said and done: yesterday I had my first lesson after the summer of kung fu.

later with vague eyes, with my complete Eastern Europe (which, incidentally, is black, and then help my cause), I greet everyone I ask how was the holidays, I settle on the zafu for meditation ... and begin! You do not notice anything?

Finally, a colleague approaches, looks at me worried, seriously worried, and asks me, trying to use the greatest care, "Roby, but you were wrong? Not think you're fit!"

"In what way?" I reply, as I feel that there is something I do not back

"Boh? You endured, you have dark circles ... are you alright?"

shame! Two months of sacrifice, of hunger pangs, renunciation, of stoic endurance and biofeedback to convince you that fennel is your friend and that the ice cream lead to obesity ... To hear you say that you have dark circles ????????????

Would you tell me who regret LARDINI MY FAVORITE AND MY EX-RINASCIMEMENTALE ALL'OSSETTO HIP look like THAT BEGINS TO MAKE BEVELLING Head? AND THEN SAY THAT THERE IS NOTHING GOOD EVER! OH!

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But we read as a child?



Now do not tell me that Snow White was not your childhood myth, the favorite princess, the archetype of perfection to inspire, because they do not believe it!
Oh well, it was my bitterness ... and discover that growing up, that was really just a girl without a brain ... and also a little 'whore, to put it all!
But not me I'll take it with you, no no, everyone does what he wants. I blame my mother, that day he inculcated lessons chaste and upright like: "Do not accept food from strangers," "enforced by men," if someone asks you not to follow "... and in the evening for me to sleep, I administered the old story of this mellifluous Snow White, in order:

has slipped into the woods with a bearded keeper.
It is installed permanently at the home of seven dwarves old (actually, it was also a bit 'pedophile, given the special attention devoted to puppies)
He sgrufolata appioppatale without thinking of a red apple from a chick certainly unsavory (But do you remember the face of the witch from Snow White, right? You you would have accepted an apple from a well ??????)

Not to mention that Alice psychotic drug addict, who went around the world with hallucinogenic mushrooms in his pocket (he was small, I became addicted to !!!!!!!!!), great ... and that was the barrels with the caterpillar, and drank tea with maria mad hatter !!!!!

Then they say that we came up strange that we are a lost generation ... we went out too well!

Hard Bump On The Inside Of My Lip

100 years

If I had not started to give me a teaspoon of wine at lunch, probably I would be sober.
If you had asked me to pass the bread, saying: "Give me some bread, maybe today I do not know English.
If I had repeated 1000 times that "we must live dangerously," I would certainly now more insecure.
If I had never stretched a slap in the face, now I do not know what it means to respect the older ones.

Greetings grandfather Mimi ... today we had a nice round number to celebrate, but knowing you, I'm sure that wherever you are, you're having a great time with you the great.

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The art of breathing

not you happen to live in apnea? Taken by our things, we spend whole minutes to breathe hamster model. They did not ever say clearly, but I bet that our cells are not very happy. Yes, because the breath
is our first vital, more water, food, everything. Try
deprived of food, water and air: What is the deprivation that will make you kick the bucket first?

So here's a mini-lesson on the deep breathing that comes straight from my practice of kung fu.


1) You are relaxed, sitting or standing with your back soft, but straight, and not the stomach contracts (for a moment, proudly displayed the bacon)


2) Bypassing your lungs, and forget about the their existence is now breathing with the belly


3) Inflate your tummy air slowly, rhythmically, and then thrown out the air with his mouth, slowly, until the stomach empties


4) If it helps you exercise, put two fingers below the navel. That is our vital center, and it is there that should end up in the air.



This would be the proper way to breathe more, but do so only occasionally can be very healthy. Do not believe us? Look here:


The internal organs are separated, they remain healthier ventilate (like opening a window in a room kept closed for a month)
The brain is oxygenated and becomes more efficient and responsive
Improves oxygen exchange in blood cells are renewed (and delayed wrinkles)
The greater influx of oxygen away the pain
You fight the cold

The only drawback: since we are not accustomed to breathe well, drunk the first time this oxygen can give to the head (being a shooter, but cheaper and healthier): do not panic, lean against the wall and go easy at first.

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The awakening The premise

Wake up call at 6.40.
are a lion today: head ok, energy to spare, the brain immediately responsive.
Backed by the pleasantness of the morning sun filtering through the window I see that I say, "Go, which now will be a great day"

I put on the coffee, throw in two slices of sandwich loaf toaster, make jams, cup, spoon, the cigarette after coffee ... my morning ritual.

Inflates emphysema and the beginning of this sparkling decide to overdo it: I put in place the glasses lying on the floor clean ...

... ERROR!

... Accomplice to the early rising and movements not as responsive as the evil brain drainer miro: the glass launches into a suicidal flight into your sink.

like a feline claw to save him, and settles down to a clumsy elbow maker who started to gurgle happily, crashing to earth in a flood of coffee. While clean

realize with horror that half of my morning ritual is still in progress: when I take the toaster, my sweet slices of sliced \u200b\u200bbread face shyly, black as pitch. I say that is a dangerous carcinogen benzopyrene ... I do a quick visual title search on the slices, and I am convinced that after this breakfast I would throw a lot to live ... and everything!

I say "eye Roby, the day has ups and downs"
I start with cautious attitude towards work.

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Miss Grumbler: or, literally, Miss croaker.

Strange, coming from me, grew up with bread and "do not complain", or "if not by importance to the problem, the problem does not exist!"

... it might be for this philosophy of life that the wonderful and comforting NSAIDs (or analgesicum vulgaris) have a permanent lodgers in the inside pocket of my purse?

In all ways, at the age of 31 years, I had to admit to myself that nominee and the mysterious concept of stress is not alien to my existence ...

Guilt of COMMITMENT DOMESTIC WORK-TIME-MISSING-POLLUTION-frantic pace? Probably.

remedies previously considered:

1) I retire, I move to a hermitage and field board ... that what I have worked with so far is more or less a pack of cigarettes per day;

2) Do 'accelerated my lessons of kung fu and Bruce Lee-style extermination all those who interfere with my peace of mind ... mmmh I should be too good, and it would take too long!

Ok, there are the tears to keep me all in, smiling when angry, to be gentle when I split the world in newspapers. It is, I realized: I write everything!

And here comes the blog: a potentially infinite blank page, ready to receive with benevolence winking load of small incazzature daily.

Why in the bottom of this question, and fortunately, I would add: small ripples in a sea of \u200b\u200bdisappointment on average, peaceful and happy.

Yes, but as it should be? There are direct, caustic, politically incorrect ... mache ... and horns and touches those who are not frowning! Why have I hold myself, if I restrain myself here too, then what good is?

Before concluding, a call to my friends who know my sweet side, easy-going, positive and not inclined to drama ... hey, it is always me, I just decided to give a little space (but a little eh?) to Miss Grumbler that is in me. Get out of here will not change anything, I promise, but in here I'll let free to scream (chopsticks when it expands too much) to turn the incident ...

... and who knows she can not evict the analgesic of the bag!

... maybe I'll lend it to you!