British Red Flower On Suits

top


One of these nights, we were discussing books, what we read and what we liked. One of the guests then again about top 10. She had one but you could still die for the cons have nothing, we only had to break a little, make one and send it.
I received hers yesterday and I did mine in stride. Well it's not easy to do. Both first two or three of the list came quickly, as it is difficult to follow: either the memory of the books we read are needed but we do not find enough goods to enter our top ten, or we even forgot the superlivres. Then I handed the nose in my library, library I row by the way recently by genre, then alphabetically by author with an evening when I was bored, I'm not on TV. (Small aside, I found on the internet a unique way to store their library . It's pretty cute, I toyed with the idea to do the same for my books, but I quickly abandoned, because besides the that it should be practical or when you want to take a book, or when you research a specific title, I would have had to range again, that is to say again I did a few weeks ago but with a more aesthetic look that I did not. Discouragement I won. I return to my sheep.) So I realized there were novels in my library that I really loved but I can not remember, there were novels that I really loved but who were not there, there was that I hated but who were there. So I helped my library, but not that much to make my top 10.

1 - Dangerous Liaisons, by Choderlos de Laclos
2 - Eureka Street, Robert McLiam Wilson
3 - The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro
4 - Maus, Art Spiegelman
5 - Spit on Your Graves, Boris Vian
6 - Marie Antoinette, Stefan Zweig (but maybe because I just finished it)
7 - Bel-Ami, Maupassant

Next time, I'm the worst ten, it'll be funnier.

Should Your Bmi If You 16

In medicine (and ophtalmos )


I recently went to a doctor for my eye to prescribe glasses. I must say that I rather like going to the doctor, even if it means I'm sick (myopia is not really a disease, but we can not say either that it is a superpower). We choose to wait a magazine that you never dare to buy, and we read without displeasure. Then we sit in front of this huge office, before this gentleman or lady that holds her super powers: he studied longer than I have some really exciting to not acquire the power to save the world, or at least inconvenience gastric the old lady who came to see.
Me I'm happy to explain in detail everything that leads me: I am prepared, I remade the film in chronological my troubles, I weighed the words that I use to be more close to the description of these conflicts, itches, sputum, mmh, I stop there. Still, this man or woman will listen, without the sigh that I sometimes hear at home when I'm training to do the same presentation.
Still, I'm perky at that time enjoyable and I willingly want to spend a good time.
The ophthalmologist, he does not want to have a good time. Him what he wants is to send the patient. What he wants is not to have to smile at a joke that does not laugh. This is how an operation or diagnosis a little more funky than "ah bah voila, you have a myopia of both right eye, I make you a prescription for glasses. What he wants is not to bother with people who have not been better educated than him. What he wants is to get as many people as possible in the day. What he wants is out of this room and be all black on a bright beach. What he wants is to seem more important.
is why it is unpleasant M. ophthalmologist. That's why he spent twenty minutes of no interest to me. That is why the next time I see him I will not be perky but rather cold, not trying to make it pleasant for a moment that will not. Monday, December 1, I am the mouth from 18.30 to 18.50.

Glory Hole Jacksonville Fl Craigs List

the wild man in me


I went a few days in a bucolic paradise of hunters, woodsmen and people who ride them, namely the Sologne. I do not know why I went there knowing that I do not hunt, I can neither find my way, or make a fire in the woods, and the only horse I approached previously proved, after discussion with his master, being an ass. I had no reason to place the Sologne on the map, and even less to go. Adventurer by nature, I am still mounted in the car with my sweetheart who she knows how to ride, hunt and make fire with wet wood without a lighter, all dressed in animal skins.
Three days later, here I plan to be a cowboy. The psychology of a horse or a pony no more secrets for me, and c'mon that I will brush the horse with the American stuff, and after with the hoof tester, go ahead and that I will climbs above without even fall on the other hand, we will catch yahouu roping cows. I must say that I had private lessons rather sharp at the forefront of educational research, which are to tell you "straighten up! "" Greenhouse your legs! "You understand it quickly, but phrases like" put away your riquiqui! "(Huh? What?)," Pie your legs! "(What?)," Back on your reins! (How to do that?) Or "but it's a damn fool me like this? Then, it was felt that this quarter-hour lesson was enough to brave the wild, especially as those who accompanied me (fifteen years of each horse) pranced impatiently. I pass over the cold sweat that, despite my nerves, I have traversed throughout the walk, I expected every moment that my horse has bolted. In fact, it was not packed, but it nevertheless decided at a time to jump an obstacle without going through the procedure of prior consultation, to know ask me. So in protest, I decided to leave it at full speed and pass the obstacle alone. Once found, I still fathom order to show who was boss by trying not to wince too much pain.
In the second lesson, I was told "yeah, you get on very well, but we will give thee a smaller, will be better. "I do not know if it was better for me or the horse, and it is worthy that I'm riding the pony. This lesson was planned to learn the gallop, the instructor was therefore fitted with a whisk. The teaching approach has changed: it was with the whip I run the horse at a gallop we'll see how long you gonna keep . It's like the rodeo, except that viewers do not care about you and that instead of sand on the track, it is mud. Still, I still held a quarter of an hour, proud and dignified on a horse in a fury, um not a pony in fury. I put even a picture to prove it.
(I was then told that normally, the gallop was learned not only to the second lesson, I think it's because we recognized the natural qualities of my jumper, or he is just because the ground was particularly muddy and mocking the spectators).
Next time I learn to kill a boar with his bare hands, my sweetheart has promised me.

Brown Hair And Blonde Chunks

storage


few weeks ago, I went to, Dawn in my home, books in my library that I left there on deposit. My mother took the opportunity to pass me by most of the 15 jars of jam, a big shoe box full of old papers, saying "Hey, that's you, leave them lying around here since I do not know how long, I never want to see." I complied, partly because my parents still have kindly kept my library for five months, partly because I'm a big consumer of jam, and finally because when she talks like that, do not pick her up.
arrived home, I put the box in a corner, she had gone to stay there again for quite some time.
And I do not know, a desire for storage, a desire for change, a desire to jump off the bottom of this stupid computer, a desire to do something that I do long history of being happy for once in my day, I decided to roll up their sleeves, open the box and sort the damn papers lying around there since ... uh ... the high school, slightly more than ten years.
I found two things: a lighter, remember when I was smoking, and eye, remember when I had round glasses and ugly. Hop trash.
The rest was all a jumble of papers accumulated primarily by too lazy to tidy up, I have on the kitchen table stored in three piles: trash, not trash, and I do not know yet. It included bank statements, time sheets and statements of mutual tricks that are intended only to be discarded as soon as possible by sane people. Hop trash. There were postcards obviously enjoyable holiday. Hop trash too.
The most interesting in there were the letters. There were two dozen of my second year until my early grades. So with tears in his eyes that I started visiting my "personal museum" *. Letters people that I totally forgot about that and came back to me in memory (or not, there are two or three that I'm unable to remember), letters of ex that I had not forgotten (yes, do not mess about, I have not had fifty anyway), and letters from myself to myself (we are happy philosopher at this age, a bit romantic and clearly concon.)
In opening the box, I thought it was going to celebrate for at least two hours to read all that. It amused me five minutes and a half after it became totally boring. Imagine forty persons you send a letter at the same time, talking about things more or less trivial that happened ten years ago, I swear that you will be unable to send them at once.
So I packed up, and I stored it in a cardboard bottom to the basement, awaiting the day when I get to be nostalgic.


* The term is not mine, it is Lewis Trondheim


PS: Tonight is election night. The left has apparently won. Yippee, it's party time, it makes me a beautiful leg than the last time they won and where it has changed my life and those of my fellow citizens (to regional I think). I do not even know why I still listen to the election night. Maybe because it's an opportunity to clean the kitchen ...

Brachial Neuritis Wiki

Procrastination


I have quite a job ahead of me, and a job that does amuse myself, but then not at all. Sometimes preparation can make a job is hard enough but there is a certain intellectual satisfaction. But here, nothing. It's just hard to do. You just say to go, get caught by the hand, think of the satisfaction you will when it's over, do not think that really what life cunt sit at the computer and work.
But now, it's been two weeks since I reject, I booked this Sunday afternoon for the work especially math, you'll have to go now. But the human brain is fantastic, it is capable of boundless imagination to avoid getting started.
I will not inventory strategies of the past fortnight to push, just from today:
- to sleep late.
- go to the market (it had to go, the market is only on Sundays, otherwise we will not have fresh vegetables this week, students should take note of drama.)
- to vote in municipal elections (where it's still my civic duty.)
- to vote in cantonal (here I do not know exactly what it is not, nor what these elected representatives of the township, but it is certainly my duty as a citizen. )
- go vote at noon (that's where there's more people. I do not know why the people go there just before the meal, this would require a serious sociological study, I'm sure it has to do with the meal.)
- Getting to eat something that cooks for a long time, and take appetizer, entree, cheese, two desserts, coffee. Unable to work right after that.
- Doing the dishes right after dinner, and account at the same time that the apartment is dirty and must of course clean everything is really urgent and it can wait one more day (there are even times when I decide to do the windows, but there must be a margin. I mean, should not have to make his work the next morning, because when you rub it realizes it is being deceived, and that all this is just an excuse to push.)
- Experience the urgent need to take stock of its car insurance.
- Play Loituma .
- Write a post on my blog so it's something that I did not made for at least 2 months (this, I apologize flatly. In my defense, I have lots of work, I have more that I reject, and two I did not great shape and no desire to bother with the worries uninteresting (the?) player (s) that happen here again.)

Green Green Ep 13 Uncensored

Brel


This afternoon, I went for a coffee-shop at the Bistrot Tobacco-pmu. I have a tenderness that I have trouble understanding for this kind of establishment. This is absolutely not nostalgia because this is what is most modern: there are the faux marble plastic raised last year TVs fingering the results of games, third and others, radio, neon yellow and blue plastic tables, the regulars. These same
regulars, numbering three or four, I was impressed this afternoon when I went for my coffee. The conversation was not very lively, if not nonexistent, no one spoke or Sarko, or banning smoking in bars, no, no one spoke. This silence brought home a kind of lethargy, they were simply there, leaning on the counter, and waited. Radio, Radio Nostalgie certainly, providing its nostalgic titles ( Yet the mountain is beautiful, Kazatchok , etc.). Then we heard Brel's "Tonight I'm waiting ..." and when he would sing "Madeleine, all of our regulars, as one man, raised his head, said "Madeleine" and then were lowered.
I was facing, I had not seen them open their mouths for at least ten minutes, and they have not open rather than later. C ' is beautiful, right? Brel is alive, I saw him this afternoon.

Ghost Sightings In Maryland

Pastry


Yesterday at lunch, I am concerned I do not know why, to the packaging of various foods that were on the table, like when I was little when I read the composition of banana on the side of the yellow box. The conversation was not in fact live longer, the quiet life flowing: no music, just the sound of that fourchettées chew, you take a little mashed, you think it is good that mash , hold the crumbs form a bizarre design, in short, the machine is stopped, and that's good.
Still, I undertook to consider carefully packaging cartons, and ultimately it is a mine. There was such a box of chocolate biscuits and lemon not very good. Besides traditional ingredients more or less natural (rather not natural, in fact), a mad marketingeur had undertaken to summarize the history of pastry into four lines. I understand his logic to him "they want authentic? Well, I'm going to give me, the authentic." And hop, not at all daunted by the enormity of the task, he began to read everything that was done on the issue, writing to every university around the world who have been working for decades on the pastry to Through the ages, sometimes stopping on a particular story. Ha good, the rum baba was coined from an Desiccated bun with a trip under Louis XV? Oh dear: you knew that buttons come from the Italian Renaissance? No, she did not know, and given his head in dismay, she cares royally. Finally it is certain that our marketingeur is a workaholic since in terms of his research and his writing and goldsmith, he came to these wonderful lines, shattering simplicity: In the Middle
Ages, it was (sic) bakers who were responsible for making cakes because at that time, sugar was still unknown and remains a luxury. The Pastry them were concentrating on meat pies and fish and "pies". They had a little place of our current caterers. It is only sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was born pastry "modern".
We are left speechless: as of brevity, a style that does not bother with frills, which goes straight to the point, leaving the way everything is incidental, just to give it authenticity. But unfortunately there is something he has forgotten the guy. The original idea was to one side of the cake industry, the other a historical text which immediately forget the manufacturer. But our marketingeur, carried away by his writing talent, has made all fail. Before the text sublime, we cry, thinking of those centuries of pastry who gave birth to this thing bland and soft to the bite.





PS: I am moving Saturday, so not sure I can post next week. Happy New Year and also friends.