Really Wet Beore Period

I found the pasta, I found the oil, I found the Parmesan and found the tomato sauce ... I mean ... I found the Italian olive oil, everything else is fake as T-shirts D & G found on the beaches of Riccione in August. The paste should be made in Italy but not swear so much on his estate and taste, Parmesan cheese is not sure, but a cross between cheddar and a worn tire, and tomatoes well ... I trusted more to buy eight cluster and the sauce I do it myself. To experience expect to be home alone and do not fool with others.

wait another day ... another day ... another day of boredom reading. I ended up "time witches "by Ann Rice. The final would be brilliant if I did not know who has already written a second book in the series, and one third still goes to hell ... then that wonderful feeling that you can only give an open ending, and the ability to imagine a continuum, and the drama begins tension between the part of you that refuses to give in to blackmail a purely commercial and the part that screams jumping and swinging in a corner "edddaiiii! Buy it! Buy it! Buy it! Buy it! Buy it! Buy him. " A real tragedy.

I am continuing to read "The Science of Discworld". I recommend it to everyone, but in the original language. Like all books of this author indeed.
Pratchett is a magician with word games and read it in Italian is like watching a movie of Toto in German. And then I think the pace at which translate his books in Italy you can find in the library more or less when you throw exhumed for ossuary.

we're on the subject ... (He knows because we're on the subject ... gh) I would like to remind my dear father, as I knew complained he did not send more email, which is called an exchange of letters corresponded precisely because it is an exchange. Got it? So if I send an email, before responding to a hypothetical replica I just received the above reply ....

Stomache Flu Exposure

Today I got up at one. E 'Sun do not have a dick, so I bighellonato far, and I'm going to hang out until I can.

Last night I went out with a group of English and went to Temple Bar area to give us some beer. Nice people but you see the generation gap ... they seek the revelry and loud music, I put the quiet and chats. Anyway ... I drank and I did not pay ... I do not know why.
I tried to pay me the first and nothing, I tried to offer the second round and nothing ... I looked around, I smile and shrug ... I did the English hospitality.

Today I am going to buy me dinner ... I swear.
It also wipes her ass ...

Last night was party to the streets of Dublin and all the girls were dressed or undressed for the occasion.
I enjoyed it. I say this with purely academic spirit. Yes, because in the face of a pretty girl in miniskirt saw dozens and dozens of these quarters of beef wrapped in a thin layer of cellophane that were roaming the streets and in pubs. Beautiful is not it? No obvious! But it is nice to think that people here have no problem whatsoever to be seen for what it is and is not ashamed.
a word of shame and pride that they will be. One who was made to portray in the most embarrassing. About
! Where's that picture where, surrounded only by a sheet, played Apollo driving his chariot? I'm sure you did. I mean relatively. Remember

Pratchett book I'm reading? Well the man is brilliant. I read a passage that in addition to being fun and enlightening for its immediacy. I'll translate.
"Our ancestral fear of death led us to one of the oddest personifications. Invent the concept of 'death' is equivalent to give a name to a process - to die - as if it were an object. So obviously, we put on the focus of a number of properties and objects, what they do know that only priests. These properties can come up with many names. May arise, for example, the concept of 'soul'. One thing that has to leave the body while moving from one state to the living body of a dead body. Funny how the most avid believers in the soul tend to be the biggest detractors of material things but to reconsider their basic philosophy by insisting that when a process - life - ends there must be an object that continues.
No. When a process ends is no longer there, no longer exists. Point.
When you stop shaking an egg is not some pseudo-material-essence-of-the-eggs-shackeramento that becomes something else. You get off work, just to shake his hand. "
Simply genius. Like all simple explanations.

Can You Spread E Coli From Kissing

are exactly seven days that I left. And I'm set.
So what is the bus that takes me downtown, I know next to what is what brings me back to the hostel.
I made my space-time in the hostel and then I can get my privacy even in a place that, by definition, means the casino and promiscuity.
I rebuilt a sort of routine. In the morning, 3 slices of bread, butter and jam, a glass of tropical juice, a cup of coffee and one or two, depending on the time and desire, bowls of milk and muesli.
Then I go to the bathroom and take a shower and start the day. I have the
my coffee, my pub and my paths (possibly leading to the pub or cafe) ... so I'm breaking balls and I can hide and not show it. I can not wait to start working again.

Yesterday I saw a thing out of my logic.
Abstract: my logic rule out football. Any discussion that covers the game becomes boring to me, confused and starts the long run the nausea and the brain starts to leak from your ears ... the end of the Foreword.
On television I saw a lot of "International rules" ... what?
God lightning if I know (and in any event would give any sign of life down here ... there people waiting for some time ...). It should be a mix of Gaelic football, rugby, and football.
In practice, a high-protein group of practical jokers do not have incisors that if by merrily with the excuse to make points, Mah ...

It is true that the Irish have a ruling of their own. Right? In English we say "RAIT". An Irishman will tell you "Roit. An Australian software instead
preliminary "Softuei" instead of "softuer" ... that strange people is that people in hostels.

Today for the first time I really felt a stranger.
I went into a Tesco (a supermarket) and I went out completely demoralized.
I have not found anything that I say "Buy me! Cucinami! Eat me! "... Dunno ... no cheese or grated cheese, tomato puree it.
Now, do not begin to break the embankments with the usual story of Italians who go abroad and continue to make the Italians.
Christ, I am Italian? I'm used to eating three ounces of pasta for lunch? Not that crossed the border to my stomach changing habits and starting to live traditional Irish stew and steak 8oz do good to my gut, and above all become Irish.
I become an asshole in Italian and the international breaks to make your stomach with something that is not used. Got it? And
think that I had come to buy some wet wipes to solve the problem ... I came out of the bidet demoralized and did not solve anything ... shit and shower, an indissoluble.

Sand Rail Frame Design Programs

Today promises to be a day of shit.
I'm pretty sure I will not have news on business, but at the same time I woke up at dawn and keep your eyes constantly on the phone to see if it rings. If not now have to wait until Tuesday, because Monday is a holiday here ...

I am seriously considering starting to make me shopping and cooking lunch and dinner in the kitchen, a destination from the hostel. For goodness sake, nothing to say against Irish cuisine but there are two fundamental problems. Where to find it and where to find it at reasonable prices.
I can not continue to eat the fucking dog for much longer than I should be ... a plate of spaghetti with garlic, olive oil (or "oil") as the tomato and chilli ... ... in my personal recipe.
Or a plate of carbonara real! Here we bring the mushrooms. MUSHROOMS? But are you crazy? Put the mushrooms in a light Raudo carbonara is like swearing in church and loudly after having drawn attention.

Who said I have a hard head? Well, whoever won a doll.
This evening I decided to eat Indian, so I settled on a take away nearby. I specifically asked, using facial expressions, spoken words and gestures that I know are very important to the Hindu Rig-Veda, not to prepare dishes too spicy (hot).
do you like the dishes were.
The next time, and believe me there will be a next time, I will go there with a shirt with a portrait of Gandhi and the inscription "He Was a big man. He ate tasteless "(trad. It was a great man. Sciapo ate). If you do not work yet I shall reserve to deliver in the bed of a cow's head master. That's Italian style.