title already talkative, but a sign that I'm really really real real match (3, the razor) tired and confused.
Instead of rest so I vent, you pardonnnemuà age.
As of today, and sssiori ssssiore (indeed, the first ssssiore. Nonsiamai that ... I think it's feminist pfui) I have a certainty (which, logically, the first was a doubt. I remind myself to remind me what I should be out of zucchini): continue commuting for the duration of my sad college career. Exactly: I chose the lice, scabies, the smell of socks, bib of his neighbor, the nod of the head (you know those who fall asleep and wake up because of the charm of their head, autospaventandosi? Well, them), the stinks of the brakes (the sprouts compared Brucslelles know Grandma's freshly baked pie, oh yeah).
Now I am sure, after spending two days-too close-in "Eternal City". Okke Piaza Of Spagniai, Okke the Colosseou, Okke Treivei fountain, Villa Okke Borgheisei, Okke 'er Pinciou, Okke the Chinese with the fan built into the cap with visor (lapalissiano esempio di genio orientale anzichennò), okkei pizza margheruita, mandolinou, Crazie, Pregou e escusmi pliiis. Okkei. Oddio, sono stanca solo a (ri)pensarci. Sudore freddo.
Bello, tutto bello, tutto così romantico, tutto così biutiful staile...se solo fossi cinese, probabilmente.
Invece a me è toccato il temuto 64 (ho odiato i Bitols e la loro malefica canzone per tutto il tempo "When i'm sicstifooooor!"). Il 64 è l'autobus che porta a Piazza Navounai, passando per tutta Via Nascionàl. Qualcuno doveva averli cucinati davvero quei maledetti cavoletti, prima di salirci sopra. Mi sono ritrovata, inmenchenonsidica, con il naso attaccato al vetro, con obviously insane people who were trying, at every stop, desperate to climb up the damn contraption of marinated sardines. All this is topped by a heavy rain.
arrived where I had to get there, I realized that I could avoid getting there. Well. Trips.
Okke Veronica, Veronica're quiet, it's nothing Veronica, was not that long ago that you saw Piazei Navounaou Veronica.
Let's go back, dodging pigeon droppings inognidddove to resume 64.
My silent protest will not make the ticket, tie (any controller where the hell would come in, if you do not jumping from the roof a surprise?).
Same story, same place, same man entered the bar would sing. In fact, nose against the glass, marinated sardines, the smell of sprouts, torrential rain.
finally dropped out of the box with the wheels I realize I have lost hours. Running in the rain to go shopping. A sensual and aquatic zucchini, an eggplant round round (the eggplant is The Woman clothed with the purple, I decided), a pint of milk.
And then run to the supermarket to stock up on junk food to be consumed preferably before the end of Hello Daruin and before the Maurizio Costanzo Shoo (Shoo the series: "Why do not you take care of your wife, and their postal letters, and tronista vocaboline, and deliver us from evil Amen? ").
Home at last. A quick pasta at ten o'clock in the evening and away with Hello Daruin ('to Daruin, well done to you' nnnattene on Gallop (GOS) to study the iguanas, have abstained from witnessing 'I'm destruction, hello daruiin).
have collapsed shortly before the beginning of Mauritius, an obvious sign that my biological clock still does his job, a good boy.
following days (I swear that I finish soon, did you get here?) travel alarm clock, breakfast on the run, shower running, subway travel, travel by metro, in rainfall run-up, short stroke , bear, rsa, sa, a.
Epppoi 90, the hen sings, fear, or cossiddetto "serprentone. Pofferbacco! Two seats!
Arrival in power, yet another lesson assessment accordingly, class semi desert (what I came here to do? WHAT ARE COMING TO FAREEE?), Lesson definitely not followed, 90 egein, packed, time, train, packed, pendants, bib and pacifiers sock. The cattle car brought me back home.
Okke, I'm sleeping. I vented.
Instead of rest so I vent, you pardonnnemuà age.
As of today, and sssiori ssssiore (indeed, the first ssssiore. Nonsiamai that ... I think it's feminist pfui) I have a certainty (which, logically, the first was a doubt. I remind myself to remind me what I should be out of zucchini): continue commuting for the duration of my sad college career. Exactly: I chose the lice, scabies, the smell of socks, bib of his neighbor, the nod of the head (you know those who fall asleep and wake up because of the charm of their head, autospaventandosi? Well, them), the stinks of the brakes (the sprouts compared Brucslelles know Grandma's freshly baked pie, oh yeah).
Now I am sure, after spending two days-too close-in "Eternal City". Okke Piaza Of Spagniai, Okke the Colosseou, Okke Treivei fountain, Villa Okke Borgheisei, Okke 'er Pinciou, Okke the Chinese with the fan built into the cap with visor (lapalissiano esempio di genio orientale anzichennò), okkei pizza margheruita, mandolinou, Crazie, Pregou e escusmi pliiis. Okkei. Oddio, sono stanca solo a (ri)pensarci. Sudore freddo.
Bello, tutto bello, tutto così romantico, tutto così biutiful staile...se solo fossi cinese, probabilmente.
Invece a me è toccato il temuto 64 (ho odiato i Bitols e la loro malefica canzone per tutto il tempo "When i'm sicstifooooor!"). Il 64 è l'autobus che porta a Piazza Navounai, passando per tutta Via Nascionàl. Qualcuno doveva averli cucinati davvero quei maledetti cavoletti, prima di salirci sopra. Mi sono ritrovata, inmenchenonsidica, con il naso attaccato al vetro, con obviously insane people who were trying, at every stop, desperate to climb up the damn contraption of marinated sardines. All this is topped by a heavy rain.
arrived where I had to get there, I realized that I could avoid getting there. Well. Trips.
Okke Veronica, Veronica're quiet, it's nothing Veronica, was not that long ago that you saw Piazei Navounaou Veronica.
Let's go back, dodging pigeon droppings inognidddove to resume 64.
My silent protest will not make the ticket, tie (any controller where the hell would come in, if you do not jumping from the roof a surprise?).
Same story, same place, same man entered the bar would sing. In fact, nose against the glass, marinated sardines, the smell of sprouts, torrential rain.
finally dropped out of the box with the wheels I realize I have lost hours. Running in the rain to go shopping. A sensual and aquatic zucchini, an eggplant round round (the eggplant is The Woman clothed with the purple, I decided), a pint of milk.
And then run to the supermarket to stock up on junk food to be consumed preferably before the end of Hello Daruin and before the Maurizio Costanzo Shoo (Shoo the series: "Why do not you take care of your wife, and their postal letters, and tronista vocaboline, and deliver us from evil Amen? ").
Home at last. A quick pasta at ten o'clock in the evening and away with Hello Daruin ('to Daruin, well done to you' nnnattene on Gallop (GOS) to study the iguanas, have abstained from witnessing 'I'm destruction, hello daruiin).
have collapsed shortly before the beginning of Mauritius, an obvious sign that my biological clock still does his job, a good boy.
following days (I swear that I finish soon, did you get here?) travel alarm clock, breakfast on the run, shower running, subway travel, travel by metro, in rainfall run-up, short stroke , bear, rsa, sa, a.
Epppoi 90, the hen sings, fear, or cossiddetto "serprentone. Pofferbacco! Two seats!
Arrival in power, yet another lesson assessment accordingly, class semi desert (what I came here to do? WHAT ARE COMING TO FAREEE?), Lesson definitely not followed, 90 egein, packed, time, train, packed, pendants, bib and pacifiers sock. The cattle car brought me back home.
Okke, I'm sleeping. I vented.
