How To Make Some Ones Life Miserable

Vento d'estate io vado al mare, voi che fate?

Philadelphia airport. Summer wind, I go to the sea, you are doing? I can not wait, maybe I get lost. The scene of old trudging barefoot between gates is paramount. I am happy as a child while in step socks on the carpet, then gum on the carpets, then the harder. The real children chase each other between the legs of the big tail, laughing at the fight against terrorism. The shoes appear at intervals on the tape: I'm pretty proud of my not have holes, are not embarrassing or even bombs. Mordo Nahum (you spell it?) it would have been proud in the streets of Krakow. But older people trudging a bit ', a smoker is ashamed and basket covers the moccasins with three cartons of cigarettes. In fact, the moccasins were processed. Another takes an hour to fold and remove them, may fall and leans against the policeman. Others simply stumble. All right, I will try to retrieve the baggage that I was removed from the re-check (a kind of statistical control, it is not always attackers disguised as police officers), with the result that I saw him disappear into a tunnel with no silver output. Ensure that did not go to waste paper and regain my arrival. Maybe, but nobody asked me where I go. In flight, a small episode. The man is in his fifties, hair care apricot shirt and thick neck. It's huge. The plane has just taken off when he begins to paw, grasping the arms, asks for a glass of water. Currently unable to restrain himself, but after a couple of hours is unleashed. He must have woke up from a nightmare, gets up and takes a shot against the headboard shelf (behind the laugh). Call the ticket agent asks of Liquors, speaks softly. The refusal, began to insult him, then apologizes, then again railed against the inhumanity of the staff. The steward sent him frankly in that country, the woman intervenes and tries to calm him down. He leans toward her, stammering something Illinois that my neighbor can understand. September Eleven Was a hard day for everyone whispers in my ear Here, the shock from September 11. Fantastic. Fortunately, the arrival has only a bruise. The bombs were in London ...

My Pug Has A Stomach Ache

Pasolini rhymes with whips

I wanted to start the run on the beach after presentzione Congress, or tell why the title of the blog or definitions that I have collected these days about the trip to Minneapolis. None of this ...
lunchtime square. Putting together ideas for the blog, when behind me looks a shadow of a microphone, I do not have time to time before I get the interviewer square and the lens of the camera. I'm annoyed, I appear for the first time on the small screen with half-apricot in the mouth, the other half in hand and a small pool around the core, thrown to the ground with a gesture of disrespect from peanuts. Stuff from corner to Eat voncioni Parade, stuff that sends me Vissani bullets at home. But I find that the application is not trivial, there are neither behind nor Open Studio Clean Air, I'll scream Prosperini piscialètt! cagasott! or (even worse) you ghe Rasen, forth pè ... There is talk of Pasolini, are of the Fandango and want to update the Master made the documentary interviewing ordinary people on issues just discussed. Fantastic, I say that I read the writings Corsair and I saw some of his films, I speak a little of the goodness of the idea they had and pollution information, like everything else (from the air to the blood of athletes) undergoes a subtle process that we must fight. And here slip on banana peel. Why man wants to send me to Cannes (will try to send the documentrio Festival) and certainly the RAI, not so much for this intro as to a specific question: What do you think of sado-masochism? Know sadomasochism? Sadomasochism? MasoSadochismo? I had to shut up, collect the stone from the ground and swallow it. Apricot and disgusted stain to the interviewer. But the apricots were finished and the core was too far. Of course I do: the Web is inevitable even see involontariamete a corner, clipping a few incaprettati naked men and women with whips and divided by kapo. Eh, it was just that! Inside of me I think of e-mails on Viagra, the tardone to 30 € and Experiences with sexual photos small 1 inch x 1 inch arriving in the internal mail avalanche of Poli. A second after I die inevitable, I say that? To those who want to tell? The Promenade will elbow, indicating the surfer sex, peeping from the network even has the courage to hide behind the bush at the park Ravizza, but it's handy at home peering galleries Free sites prohibited. Desperate, mi aggrappo al ritornello sulla spazzatura che ci viene proposta ovunque, ma quello incalza, vuole maggior dettaglio, io rispondo che nel sadomasocoso c'è una componente di violenza che non c'entra nulla con la sessualità e che è intollerabile, allora quello la butta prima sul democratico (ma se la violenza è consensuale?? non può proibirla, deve tollerarla) e io glisso, poi sul discriminatorio (trova che anche nell'omosessualità ci sia una componente violenta??) e io intuisco dove vuole parare e nego tutto, l'omosessualità non c'entra niente. Mi chiede se ho presente Salò. Ribatto che se sta pensando di collegare la domanda al contenuto di Salò non sono d'accordo, perchè nel film Pasolini mostrava torture in all its disgusting perversion and violence, not the banal eroticism with sadomasochistic attitude. But I garbled, I see the cameraman who went from my face to the interviewer. Just a couple of questions and it's over. The three shady discounted if they leave with a satisfied air: a force of cuts and edits, from my speech trasparirà a Pasolini in fishnet stockings and high heels and a visceral distaste for any kind of sexual practice that both heterosexual and homosexual. Culatùn and pussy! Or will out a kind of confession from fourteen sex maniac who found The Hours and Teletutto the dark corner of the cabinet. I can not help it, at least let the poster with the naked Meadows! Now I hope I was unpresentable with the bite in his cheek. Now I hope the censorship of taste, I see nell'albicocca a product of global warming and not the precious fruit of some protected species.