What Does An Ingrown Hair Look

... Now everyone knows me a bit 'well know that I am agnostic, and then I think it is useless to investigate the existence of one or more deities. Respects the views of believers and atheists (most sincerely that the atheists), though I consider my the only logical and correct, since the only thing we can show is that we can not prove the existence of a creator entity .
But who knows me also knows well that as soon as anyone, anywhere, try to proselytize me with spear and childbirth are trouble.
careful, not a matter of snobbery or racism. I have friends Catholics, Jehovah's Witness, I also have a jew friend (although he did not Tommy wants to admit it ... right?) mine is not a criticism of specific people or their religions, because in general the message that all religions lead. And almost always my criticism is constructive (and destructive for them).
How many of you send to fuck the Jehovah's Witnesses when they play on Sunday morning at 8? ... It would be sent out to fuck like anyone be allowed to break my balls in the morning at 8 am on Sunday ... ... they should understand that an awakening from post-traumatic hangover and their smiles of courtesy would undermine seriously the possibility of saving his soul also to Job .
I do not send them to fuck. I do offer their books on scientific and criticizes them when I give them back their book and my notes and I invite them to return only when they are able to scientifically answer the questions I asked them in writing. And ce vo '? He has not seen any more ... probably my house on their map is shown in red and an asterisk refers to the note "DANGER! Do not approach. "
The same applies to those Christian fanatics who are you to say that all is not bad because it speaks to Christ ...
Why all this digression? Why just got off the bus in Cork, the bladder about to burst, and the luggage that he tried to crush the feet of everyone who passed near them, not an old lady approaches me? The old woman comes up to me, gives me a nod and then continued on his way. I stop to wait for the house, the old lady back, stops in front of me and gives me a big smile. My eye falls on the pendant around his neck. An alpha, or a fish symbol with which the early Christians identified their savior. Or a fucking
CriBas! A basic Christian! Dangerous not so much because she was Christian but because of the base. People usually uneducated that comes close to religion almost always due to a family tragedy, just when the possibility of existence of an upper body, powerful, and most good should spin the balls in no way whatsoever. For example, I explain how a mother who just lost his daughter to leukemia four years to find comfort in a god who could save with a snap and instead continues to survive, for example (one case) berlusconi? No way!
Anyway ... we said? Oh yeah ... I smile at the old and in the meantime I think to myself "you're fuckin old ... I no spik inglisc! Gh!" The old woman has a glint in his eyes, an evil smile appears on his face and makes me "You're Italian right? ".
Christ (and the case to say that) ... why? At least they hope that I removed from the balls ... but a continent and a piece of ocean that seems not enough ...
And anyway ... the usual rigmarole of an unhappy life until they opened the doors to Christ and everything changed every day and talk with him and tells him good morning and good night in the morning and the evening bla bla bla and that I, swollen bladder and testicles also, I watched the luggage and I was wondering why not if swallowed, and meanwhile wondering how it is technically possible to speak of friendship when it is a one-way monologue, without feedback. "No," she said with that stupid smile that only fools and saints' He answers me, obviously not in words but me so much serenity and calm. " "Well ... if nothing else, it costs nothing, is not illegal and has no contraindications such as marijuana," I muttered to ... Fortunately at that time Henry arrived and saved me ... or has she saved? Boh!

The house is a bit 'dirty ... can I say?
The carpet in all rooms does not improve the situation, there are dangling sadly taken from the walls, the floor of the bathroom is plywood, the pipes make you cuckoo from time to time from the walls and floor and the garden seems to have been occupied for months by a group of punkammerda and subsequently cleared by the cops to the sound of napalm ...
In return it seems that the house has evolved through a process of mutation / selection. Probably from a mailbox ...
But there is a washing machine, dryer and water hot, and I have a room to myself with a big window that I do not know where to but I like ... But they gave me the sheets for a single bed and mine is dual use and those that were already there do not think even a quick glance ... the old occupant must have been abandoned to rash acts of masturbation ... now I take a shower and hope that Henry takes me between the sheets.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Boys scene.
I had just finished taking a shower and I went up to my room to dry when I heard the bell ringing, I thought it was Henry, and then I put the jeans I took the big towel, I've made up his mind and went out of the room ... eh I heard a scream!
I almost fainted from the shock that the French, it seems, lives with me, and it is not that her boyfriend has taken the better. He was white as a sheet! However
understand them. You come home convinced that he alone, and the stairs as you exit a door a genie in a turban and a hundred and fifty pounds jeans ... you must be a shock!

Wife's 1st Lesbian Experience

I've decided. I'm going to Cork. At least to see, at least to understand what are the differences between Dublin and Cork and shake a bit ... 'waters to bad luck. Yes, because as you well know by now my bad luck (the one my own, what I look like a junkie looking for a pig or the dose truffles) was but a little bastard 'and then slow a bit confusing, making the fake, shake hands before his face quickly you can manage to deceive. So I've decided. I go to Cork. Now I call home and then I'll know.

I have a good news and bad.
Before the fair, which I believe the case to pull a bit 'on the morale of the troops before potholes.
I found a room. Tomorrow morning I prepare to pack up and then I take the bus ... four hour trip but you want to be? E 'was easy and I got ass, because just before the French call a girl called off the room and the only free I'll take it.
Now the bad. In same time that I was calling to set the camera in my inbox I received a mail of a firm of Dublin who asked me to do an interview next week ... what did I tell? My bad luck is really bastard ...
The next week so I'll have to answer to Dublin for a day to do the interview, and maybe you will be fine and then I lost two weeks in advance that I paid ... that ... bad luck (of course I say this because I do not want to notice the bad luck that I would be also good [and fuck!] find work in this way shhht water in his mouth I recommend) ... uh ... yeah ... all I

Weigh More After Bowel Movement

What a great awakening this morning.
I discovered that one of my phones is fucked. That's the one with the card I use for business contacts that ass ... eh?
I hope the poor fellow who has cheated me use the money to eat and that they need it. If it is not going to hell. Son of a bitch.

I just learned that my next bed opened the cabinet and has swiped the money and the camera ... well well well ... you will fill your belly for a while 'eh? You cascade balls ... We also know who you are, since you left this morning and we slept in the same room, and I hope you do not happen in the hands of that to which you have cheated the camera. As for me, for what little I've cheated, it do you good. I fool I was to leave office phones on the table. If I leave the card, though, I did you a favor and I avoided the store an hour of vodafone. Asshole.

I went to Vodafone and they gave me a new card with the same number I had before, at least I did not lose money in the card and the contacts they had my number. I bought a black cell, against the bad luck ... would do the trick.

Tomorrow is the birthday of the Sun
To her surprise, and above all to prevent the early and opened the gift I sent by post to his father's house. Now, since his parents live in a square dedicated to the Smith family, you know that the Martini-Rossi? That's good, so it's easy to remember, right? Red Square.
Luckily the postman know my father ... because I sent the package to piazza Martini ...
The postcard that I sent her instead to our house, which of course I know by heart the address is lost. Probably will now be in the hands of an old Abruzzo rimembrerà with shining eyes, and not only that beautiful Irish-American soldier during World War II did it become a woman in the barn behind the farmhouse.

Why Do We Say Overon Walky Talky

Yesterday was Halloween.
A terrible mess. Throughout the day they continued to shoot the barrels. Well, as long as needed to hunt the bad luck and evil spirits is just fine.
To celebrate I made for my English friends a spaghetti as close as possible to what can be a spaghetti Italian doc ... Irish ingredients permitting. It was edible, for me. While they seemed to eat ... oh, well ... who knows what is sad to think that we are well known in the culinary scorched but actually no alien, or very few of them really know how to eat Italian.

I just found out that the internet cafe where I usually do not change the password for wireless connection and leaves the open all day (and night) ... gh! Ergo? Connection 24h/24h free until you make it to be so generous or stupid.
Now, for example, are sitting on the stairs of the landing in front of a house and Volume Volume ... heck heck, I write the diary as I browse to latch.
This is to be a retaliation, since I'm almost certain that the USB memory stick that I have inadvertently left them disappeared after a few minutes the clerk in your pocket ... just in time to remember and 100 meters and was gone ... and the place was almost empty ... oh ... and the only one who actually knew about the memory stick was made ... oh, well ... Anyway, mine is a steal ... is a compensation. Let me be clear. More and more of a preventive war is not it? And then the Indians do not have the atomic bomb? I have to be better informed ...

Last night we carried away by a madman, I think it is French, in a pub near the hostel. It was me, the three Spaniards with whom I had dinner and this mad, furious in fact, desperately trying to communicate with everyone, in every way.
You know the movie where there is a pedophile maniac who makes faces at children to McDonald's, and then brings them closer to the camera focuses on the first page of the newspaper and the title reads "KIDNAPPED AND RAPED CHILD. SEARCH THE MONSTER IS. " Here, the same. In fact, while there was growing I kept joking, not so, with my English friend (which of course never remember the name) "You left your phone on? You know that will kill us all right? You know that I will pay some strange white powder in the beer, then we will tear us apart and sell at the Saturday market is not it? ".

said. The fast-food sucks. As a concept, as the political exploitation of resources and as a product. But ... but we must make a distinction. The McDonald's. The McDonald's sucks and that's it. Wherever you are, Turin, Rome, Dublin will always be disgusted by what I eat. After of course, because before, when you're hungry, the two golden arches seem gates of paradise ... After you take taste on the tongue as if I had a lick of the cat litter.
Burger King, a little more acceptable, almost the idea of \u200b\u200bsomething made with care and love. Attention. Seems. This does not mean that it is, I could begin a long and boring monologue on the substantial difference between perceived reality and reality ... but that would make me conceited and obnoxious ... and undermine my plans to conquer the universe ... better to continue with the coverage the village idiot who discovered that you can make ridiculous even on-line. This means, I said, maybe the joke is better served in an acceptable manner.
the end ... "Prefer to die at the stake or drowned?".
"A plate of pasta through."

'Patience Mirko. This was a long weekend, the offices are overworked and you know us Irish ... we take it calmly "Ok
. I'm quiet. I am confident. Besides, what am I to complain? I come from Italy, not by the Teutonic, which I expected!

posture typical drunkard at the bar.
1) the chair is at a distance of a forearm counter.
2) The head, in an inexplicable from a chiropractic standpoint, it is perpendicular to the pint that is observed with melancholy resignation. The pint is in the middle of the bar, so the distance is a butt-head dell'astante forearm and a half. If the golden section serves me must be lying ... it is not.
3) An arm, usually one with which you do not write, is supported in its entirety at the bar, parallel to it and is ideally divided in two by the pint.
4) The other hand, a fist, is the prop on the knee or on the counter itself, depending on the rate of blood alcohol.

Try to do it drunk and will be a very natural position. The only one that seems to support the body in a manner acceptable to the world and still not enough to begin to whirl. Do it from your sober and after a while muscles and your bones howl of pain.
Well ... they say that some booze lead to altered states of consciousness and knowledge. Knowledge is power, power is energy, energy is mass, mass distorts space. Ergo ... according to special relativity certain states of intoxication would lead to a curvature of space-time and allow the drunk to occupy a space in a sober reality would not be employable. Magic of science. Mental masturbations of a wretch who expects the friends he has never met. Next

neighbor. They are the fourth and still do not see anyone. There was a meeting of those forums www.altrairlanda.it . The appointment was at 8. It is eight and a half and you do not see anyone. There's only one guy in the corner watching me and smiling at me.

things are three.

's one of them and shame like me to make the first move and then winked at me hoping that I smuova I (and aspects CICC).

It 'a vampire who has chosen me as a hearty dinner and I nod as I wink at a Florentine steak.

E 'gay.
What do I do? I do not dare to attack button because the odds are against me ... I can find a friend, to become the next dinner, a creature of the night or create a diplomatic incident with the gay community in Dublin ... as this would risk slow down my search for a job ... a job ... you know ... it takes ass.
There is also another guy who has just arrived sitting behind me ... I have yet to figure out if he is Italian or a student of the Taliban Islamic school in Kabul ... follow the strategy of the House of Savoy. Smiling at all, expect the first move, and then stay with the strongest.

What a lovely evening. The boys are very nice irlandiani. I remember a few names but the evening was fantastic. Just for the record, the vampire was Italian and the Taliban was none other than the famous O'Connor.