Clip Art Of The Five Senses

... an addition year of the pig year of the pig

... Here I come back to post after a millennium and now I fucked up the first bill by mail! But this time Miss
Grumbler must make amends, and walk on chickpeas and shards to ask for forgiveness ...

Yes, because in the fury of the list of all the changes that the fabled year of the pig did rutile around me, I forgot to mention the novelty more beautiful, more magical, more joy you can imagine.

Yes, because when you bump into a kicking and swinging a new frugoletto (indeed, frugoletta!), All real estate purchases and partnerships more breathy take a step back and bow.

So raise your glasses again, because this is a toast to do really with all my heart.

We expect small Brunini!

Letmewatchrosskempongangs

They say the Chinese year of the pig that runs the Miss ... Grumbler says, like a good western, "Embeh? What does it matter the pig?" The pig sgrufola, yes, OK, and cute, and pink ... but because the year of the pig should pervade the sudden euphoria? "

But the Chinese know how long (I know it when I saw the work unguentin of my sifu, richly flavored with leeches and maggots in fermentation) ... and if they say that the year of the pig is essential for all us ... we should listen to them.

Yes, because according to Chinese tradition, the year of the pig is a year of changes, turns and revolutions ... I do not actually specify whether positive or negative, but a change is always an enrichment, no?

And so (they) aivoglia to conceive children born to them in this fateful year ... as if they were few.

Yet, dear listeners grumbliane lamentations, in my small way I can say that is true, and that I see around me upheavals, giant steps, lives taking new courses.

So much for hope and a collective toast to virtually "Prosit", let me do a little 'names and surnames:

Flaviana goes live alone
Fabio and Monica go to live together and Jac
Roby marry
Secco (Oh. .. you understand? Secco, my personal trainer) Astaro goes alone he
And me? Yes, well ... I've moved house, and now when I reach out at night in bed I can not find an empty pillow, but the capoccino my boyfriend!

Reference to a separate post the pains and pleasures of my life but for the moment, exclaimed loudly: "Because 'I'm pig? Mica is a comb' Barbie !!!!"

Peterborough Bars Feb. 24

... The delights of condominium

... I have asked several times how I wish it would end my life. No, do not worry, Miss Grumbler is not contemplating suicide. I speak of the natural end of my life, yes, old age, In short, if my food debauchery and ethyl allow me to get there.

I always thought, "Well, never out of place with the brain, the gardens accompanied by an unknown caretaker" or "never immobilized in a bed, to count all the sorrows of my bones."

I always thought it would be nice to fall asleep and never wake up: no tearful goodbyes, without fear, without undue inconvenience to children and grandchildren.

I have always said: "I hope that someone dear to me have the courage to pull the plug, if you were to see that I'm just the fruit!"

But .. but ... then there is always something with the simplicity of a breath into the air all the castles of your beliefs.

As I often do, today I saw my grandmother, my mom childhood: a fragile shell white, fragrant soap, with a soul that now follows in all its routes, which only rarely can meet and understand.

often, and not without guilt, I was amazed to finally abandon hope that this world because this world does not belong to more, nor the most affecting its colors, smells, the taste of its food, the company of people that you have shared.

too, that I was his joy, his grandson and daughter, his pestiferous company, his favorite pastime, I am now a "nice lady" unidentified or a "girl" any, or are less interesting than the figures that come out of TV, often talks of his interlocutors.

Yet, this morning he looked at me straight in the eye and said: "I love you so much !"... and no matter if he said, in his heart, his neighbor, his mother, a fleeting memories of his childhood, his niece ... or perhaps because, if this little woman drained by time and scented soap still inside her so intensely that I moved with joy, then it is a sign that, even where you are, is a place worth living.

Is It Alright To Drink Milk With Tonsillitis

When choosing a home, usually raises the age-old question: independently or in a condominium?
Personally the idea of \u200b\u200bthe detached house has always scared me more than a little: phobic as I am on various home intruders, as well as ghosts, werewolves, zombies and serial killers, when it came time to leave the parental nest I opted without hesitation for a multi-crowded apartment building.

Indeed zombie even if they are not seen ... but after almost 4 years I discovered that perhaps the army of condominiums may be more respectful of the most terrifying horror crowd of creatures.

Yes, because in a crowded apartment building in a relatively restricted airspace, a jumble of personalities, often manic, psychotic and neurotic, that sooner or later will be knocking on your door ...

What about the maniac on the second floor, the intolerance of noise and nuisance home? This bizarre creature, who has memorized the whole regulation condominale, has made the defense of silence on his banner and existential, as the most zealous crusader, defending a sword quiet Sunday. So, when Sunday (which is the only day that works for you, where you can devote to your activities at home) finally decides it's time to hang the picture that lies next to the couch for months, and settles the first delicate hammered on the wall, with the speed of a road-runner here's the inhabitant of the second floor (and you are in seventh) present in a robe-rolling pin-curlers-socks to protect the peace of his ears. Queusta its activity usually lasts all day: it travels by foot all the floors, front and back, to catch in the act any victim who dares to put a cd in stereo, give a pass or turn on a vacuum centrifuge washing machine!

We do not want to mention the compulsive Monthly assemblies? And 'the eternal frustration, what is likely to be harassed at work in every situation, and that feels powerful and effective only within his house. It 'used to play on your door, weighed down by pounds of paperwork to make you sign, verbal, to recommend to the lawyer, the administrator, the company elevator. Alterna stages of aggressive (with the tenant on the third floor, which does not plant flowers to match the plaster of the building) to proactive and creative moments (assuming garage gates controlled by voice or readable, elevators and dematerialization teleportation device) looking to leverage on your false sense of adequacy and solidarity (and usually tell you that all the other blocks have already signed, and only missing you!)

other side of the fence there is the irreducible peasant: for this person, who suffers from a distorted vision of the common coexistence, self-restraint of his impulses is a concept unknown and insignificant. And 'he who keeps you awake until 4 in the morning with the Grand Prix Formula 1 shot at a volume so high that it almost seems to be the second driver Rubens Barrichello. And it's always him, just as you exit the door with your brand new taiileur purchased specifically for your important business meeting, you down on the crumbs of his previous evening from the balcony, sending you to your meeting with pieces of crusty bread nell'acconciatura.

It can also be an apprentice musician, the teen ager prey to the hormonal storm that it considers to be a real rocker is the only way to win a bang before the legal age: with a tireless determination provides an overview of all the musical instruments that humankind knows, strafalciandoti ears with hours and hours of exercises from beginner ...

you say, hopefully: "Sooner or later he will learn, and eventually produce a sound even remotely be classified as pleasant"

But no, why not just learn to strum his first decent song with electric guitar, Steve Vai can decide that now make him a saw, and switch to another tool: the player piano!!

So, I tell you, it is not worth the risk that a decomposing zombie swivel for your garden, a serial killer who has decided that you will be his 14th victim, a petty thief who wants to fuck the hypothetical ' silversmiths home, rather than condemn you to a certain martyrdom of human normal and officially assured that, no doubt, sooner or later will break you in the balls? ... there are always the Doberman, right?