Price On A Gold Plated Dessert Eagle

bingo

one day ... No one who reads me dovrebbbe have doubts about the work I do: I work in a bingo hall. It is not a particular job, in fact not much different from the kind of narrow spaces that I know [It is virtual or real does not matter]. Everyone knows everything about everyone behind everyone else. Of course I am also a victim of this cruel play, but I do not care because in here are just a murderer, and give you feed it a little bit of soap opera.
There is no doubt that my colleague who is the most interesting example of the company. He is 26 years old, is beautiful and has long hair and smooth.
For a variety of circumstances that there is no need to mention I had the possibility of entering into his private life for a time but not enough to know enough to have an interest in then fill with the fantasy spaces remained obscure.
Among the things that makes the notes is a bitch. Has some very wealthy clients that pay well. The pay for half an hour of my [and his] salary. When I asked how he started, because I want to know how things begin, he told me what happened to bingo. A customer offered her money for sex and she agreed. Then I asked who it was, because I intresse as things continue. I described it: "what is always with his son, sits where you sell." And I immediately, "HA! The one with the glasses!" "No, no glasses, [insert list of clues in style indovinachi]
It 's my weak point, if someone tries to make me understand that I know who is speaking only, he should give me so many clues that probably would not have any interest in knowing more about this person because now I know everything [but who the fuck is, Obviously. Do not ever get there].
Clearly I did not understand who he was, indeed, was beginning to become embarrassing that sometimes go with her to ask "Hey, is he?". "No, I told you that [insert character here that excluded the evidence in question]."
So after a while 'I stopped, not until one evening she came to tell me "you're selling here?" "Oh, yes. Why? ... FROM! E 'him?" "Shhhh ... speaks softly and does not indicate this!" "Hey! But do not you tell me that [insert all the clues that would make me understand who she was and of course ha trascurato pensando che fossero ininfluenti]
Influenti eccome. Se mi avesse detto "E' quello con la moglie rompicoglioni" avrei capito subito

[segue un'altro giorno]

Where Abouts Do I Catch Heatran On Pokemon Indigo

Verona-Trento- Verona

Fra le varie maledizioni che Dio ha mandato sulla terra ai suoi amtissimi figli [fra le quali possiamo citare -per completezza di informazione e gusto di esemplificazione- gli 883, i dentisti e la peste bubbonica] ne esiste una oltremodo fastidiosa e che in questo momento augurerei volentieri al mio peggior nemico: il pendolarismo ferroviario.
Questo perchè in generale "I treni fanno schifo" è una frase talmente banale che bisognerebbe non dirla mai. Tuttavia è giusto parlarne perchè come promesso dopo aver letto questo articolo today I tried to mingle among the commuters on Tuesday morning taking the notorious regional Verona-Brenner of 7:45. The scene described by Boso
[note: if you're wondering who is this mysterious Boso maybe it's because you're one of those balls not click on links, do you? ] is unfortunate: foreigners who lie down on the seats. Foreigners who take off their shoes. Foreigners who take up more than one place. Foreigners who break the fucking short. The proposed solution is ingenious: add coaches reserved for foreigners. They will invent bullet markers indicate that in addition to smokers and nonsmokers indicate "niggers" or "white" and "Slavs" "non-atypical Swiss type "children spaccacoglioni" "people who call her cell phone and speaks in a loud voice," "people who for whatever reason does not wash," etc.. etc..
Well, this is all well and good in an ideal world. In the world not ideal, however, presumably where the railways do not have the intellectual capacity to invent many different symbols for all categories mentioned above, and where presumably as if my grandfather had a wheel barrow would be, just take blows to those who are rude. This applies to the black man who lies down on the seats without shoes [finesse that, though: no shoes to not dirty?] and I sit down, as is true for the lobotomized dicissettenne that is ringing repeatedly his cell phone in my ear.
While I was at the station thought the bloodshed resulting all'epurazione of rude. Then I went by train and an idyllic scene presented itself. Commuters who meet on the train and greet merrily like a beautiful day. Passengers from all over the world united by the brotherhood and sweeter than towards each other. Great amount of free places to sit comfortably and put your own thing, without the annoying smell of human being truffle. In short, the paradise on earth on the VR-BZ. Is there time to do some investigative journalism instead of fucking. There is time to ask whether the chick will give me. There is time to eat tuc. There is time to look out the window. Is there time to do some stupid photos. And there is also time to tell Mr. Boso to go a bit 'to hell.

Watch Brent Corrigan Movies

Wurdalak gets a livejournal Ahahahaha

This livejournal sevir to tell me my way that happens to me in a selected list of notable people that spammers here.
Secondly, I will also take the piss out of those who come here by chance and take seriously everything I write.
Third will also serve to take the piss and all. How

program seems to me enough.