Monday, March 7, 2011

Complimetary Paint Colors

In Zurich everything is under (the)


now know it, you need to know to live in Zurich an endless series of rules that are applied with Swiss Teutonic rigor - but what I wrote?! For example, generally, in a condominium, after nine, ten o'clock at night not be allowed to perform certain actions that could cause a nervous breakdown the sensitive minds of the neighbors



  1. No washing machine. The centrifuge is lethal for the peace of evening. Must be why I often happen to wash underwear and socks, properly exorcised, between eleven and unity. Italics troublemakers


  2. No shower. The average Swiss home at five thirty, six o'clock to rinse, eat at six and seven and a half sleep. All the others are forced to smell like normativante muffloni . Swiss


  3. Nothing flush. The noise of the water is too close to the Falls of Schaffhausen in Switzerland and creates melancholic. to soak the bastards

But if you put who also lives in the apartment under your ... Saturday afternoon I put myself in front of the piano - is behind everything harder - to practice. Headphones attached, to avoid any possible discomfort. Be ', after five minutes the guy who lives downstairs starts to shout' Silence! ' and hit the ceiling, I think, a threshing machine. A Morse code that means 'Do not break my balls '. Once before he had come to ring at the door wondering: 'Are you who you you you you you you you - imagine it as it engages in the pantomime of the bongo player -? No, because I tremble all over the ceiling! '. This time, however, are quite nervous. Stress. And my watch is three and half past. So, getting that message, begins to pound on the keys like a madman , raising the first time in a Swiss emotions. Of hatred, but also more emotional. But back to our rules and prohibitions. If you have the opportunity to travel on one of the efficient public transportation in this city, you may encounter a sign whose meaning decidedly cryptic. I, however, thanks to the power of cuba libre, I managed to solve the mystery. Look carefully at the photo of this post and let's start from right to left - as, indeed, we read the Torah in Hebrew and I'm not doing that much exegesis of a sacred piece of Swiss history :




  • is prohibited resting your feet on the seat in front if you wear shoes. The hockey here, is one of the most popular sports. And the fans if they go skating around the streets of Zurich - skating! -. Then, climb on the means and infischiandose good manners, rest their big feet skated on the seats. A real social scourge. For shoes


  • is prohibited saw the seats. It can happen. The harsh climate, the gray winter, the difficulties in relationships, the meanness in the office. If the pressure becomes unbearable, the Swiss saw a weapon and takes out his creativity in this way. Of course, if they saw one armed with a serrated blade up, the last thing I would worry that he put to resect a chair, but the Swiss, the res publica, first of all


  • is forbidden to sing the songs of Lucio Battisti . The Swiss are already depressed them - I would like to see you if you could not flush the toilet after ten in the evening - well we miss you get to the minstrel of the day to rattle off 'The cart was passing, and the man shouted "ice" / Al twenty-one months of our money had already finished '. Mass suicide in lightning strikes bratwurst


  • This is doubtful. Bilingual interpretation. The first: it is forbidden to be poor . Poverty is severely punished German-speaking Switzerland with two years of forced TeleZüri vision. Terrible. Second interpretation: is forbidden to walk around with bananas sticking out of pockets . Little sign of humility. And then, remember the famous words 'You have a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?': The Swiss are not funny because you see prefer to keep it out of his pocket. The ban is to be able to laugh at their joke


  • Anchi doubt reigns supreme here. Could mean: is forbidden to create a pall of smoke over the heads of those who stands before you . There's enough out of the fog. Or smoking is prohibited when the guy who sits in front has a head shaped cloud . How distinguish them, then? The heads, I say. It will be a cirrocefalo, or a stratocefalo nembocefalo? Mica is the night where all cows are black ...


I hope I have adequately informed about how to behave in a civilized manner if you take a tram or bus in Zurich. Now you know what to do. If you do not, know that you have my admiration. And now, excuse me, but I leave you, because I are knocking on the ceiling: I'm pressing on the keyboard with too much violence. That damned face cloud! great week everyone!


Monday, February 28, 2011

Open Sores On Cat's Head

Sorry but ... To be or not to be? We are all fried

"The Lord the Lord called the man (Adam) and said Where are you? ". This passage from Genesis for centuries did turn white beards of biblical exegetes: Adam thought really to escape the Big Brother? Or God did not know Yahoo! Answers, the service provided by the company in Silicon Valley and allows you to find an answer to the big questions of life ? The first owner appears to have been Hamlet, which, with its demand has given rise to a mileage thread that has not been exhausted. If you want to know that figure comes out in uniting all the Bruno Vespa , if the thirty-Trent who came trotting in Trento were really thirty or because the left never goes to the streets to demonstrate against the genocide of bacteria newspaper ... be ', then what are you waiting?

Sunday, usually while I was writing the post on Monday, I was struck by lightning amnesia. Popped up in my mind the word 'cough' . A key word of Italian vocabulary. So, I Googled 'how to spit phlegm' and my eye fell on one of the links Yahoo! Answers. There I clicked on it. I came across this Frank, I believe, must not have had an easy life. In fact, Frank this question: " How do I bring up the phlegm spitting x? is .. ke qnd I was a kid I can not ...?". Must be a terrible problem, as you can see, it also prevents to write well. I could not share this pearl on Facebook . And that's what I did. A few minutes later my friend I., to which nothing escapes, I noted that what they have stumbled upon is nothing compared to the dilemma of Tear's Rain " is mathematically possible to calculate the size of a penis ?". I do not remember ever faced such a problem on the desks of high school and at home, in general, I used a simple ruler . Over the left knee has not scare dall'arduo task and provided a detailed answer in complex mathematical formulas that I invite you to go read . Now he is in contention for a Fields Medal. Absolute genius. At that point I am intrigued. I wanted to know. I wanted to know more. So, I started to do research here and there. For example, you had ever wondered why inflatable dolls always look so stupid ? Someone did. The most popular theory argues that the term is due to the fact that stupid inflatable dolls can not study at Harvard. Has its own logic. Someone else wonders if when you do a blood test they ask you how many phone . Of course, then call you to tell if you passed or you have to resubmit to the next call. Mariossi wants to know what the nutritional value of a snots. True that there are boogers bigger than that souffle the other day I ate at the restaurant of nouvelle cuisine, however, does not seem essential information. Unless that is not the only form of nourishment, and then maybe yes, sapevatelo. A girl suffering from acne on the buttocks and asks for advice on treatment. And the council does not hesitate: 'Foundation'. And while a user is terrified by the possibility that nail-biting hurts stomach - ever since the boogers, which are certainly much more heat -, another is attacked by a horrible doubt that grips your stomach literally: "Why always fart?". If I were him, I would not worry too much, the wind has been cleared for centuries thanks to Dante 'And he had made a trumpet of his rump'. Alternatively, we could submit to Roberta, who wants to learn about gymnastic exercises more useful to combat flatulence . "What happens if a person ingests a suppository?". Who knows. The Apocalypse? "Why do I keep dreaming of having sex with my aunt's cat? ". Maybe a cat very well equipped. We conclude with the last question. The most ingenious. Honorable Mention. Applause. General ovation. Kiss academic

"How do I answer questions on yahoo?".

And we're done for today. It's Monday, I'm tired, stressed out, I have a tendonitis that prevents me from playing the guitar since November, a nagging heel, the girls give me phone numbers that do not respond then and there are more between seasons. In Zurich there has never been because it is always winter - but that is cold?! Luckily there are Yahoo! Answers, at least I make myself laugh. Now say goodbye: I go to calculate the size of my penis . Good week to all!

Monday, February 21, 2011

My Spinning Bike Is Squeaking?

-g

I hate Mondays. On Tuesday, more. On Monday, in fact, when playing the hated alarm clock, get up and, with resignation, I'm preparing to go to the office. But what, shortly after, is sitting in front of a computer, not me. is an automaton. A being without conscience. Will. A plant with the opposable thumb. A zombie with the earbuds in your ears. Ectoplasm burdened with Excel and Microsoft Project. On Tuesday, however, is another history. On Tuesday, is the awakening in the Buddhist sense. On Tuesday, marks the veil of Maya. On Tuesday, there is awareness . It's only Tuesday. I have to climb mountains of mail, browse projects abysmal, to endure torrential meeting. And two years I put the curtains in the room , dammit! Then one wonders why people take drugs or watch 'Men and women'. Take last Tuesday . One as many others. The sound of 'Sunday Morning' Maroon 5 reminds me of three things: one, that is not Sunday morning, because last time I got up Sunday morning was when I they removed the appendix in which I was very fond of and believe me, it was a long time ago, and two, that the waves that I spupazzavo, alas, it was just a dream , three, that it is time to change alarm. On Monday, when I rise, are destroyed. On Tuesday, in general, needs a defibrillator . The usual ten minutes to find the courage to stand up. The slippers are always a mystery in my house. One is under the piano, the other is reported missing. Evacuation of the bladder and morning ablution being always careful to avoid the mirror on the wall that never lies. Step refreshment in the kitchen, brushed incisors and canines and forth, ready to be by ennobling activity that requires dedication, commitment and a certain amount of talent. No, not sex . Before leaving, I take the shirts lying abandoned in the basket of dirty clothes for the past more than a month. Mission laundry. The laundry is run by two little old ladies Zurich suffering, I suppose, from advanced dementia. By. Dlin dlon! The bell for a few seconds automatically reactivate my dormant neurons.

"Grüezi"

For the uninitiated, this is the typical greeting in Swiss German. Their guttural 'Hello'. To pronounce it perfectly, we must first smoke a few cigarettes, expectorate, and then rush out with the word. It is not easy believe me. Spare the salute and support the shirts on the counter. The lady bends dangerously and with the help of an abacus began to count. Then he looks at me.

"Foif," declaims vehemently - I think you write FUF, or something like that. I look at myself. Of terror is painted on my face.

"Foif?"
"Ja. Foif.

Oh well ', so if we have made, I have no objection - the latest in the office, I find his' foif' would be 'Funf' in Switzerland German. Five. At present, however, are undecided whether this is an insult or a kind of mantra Swiss apotropaic . Go ahead. The lady, more curve starts to write a note.

"Frittig," and he must scream, because it is so now that curve, folded on itself, writes stuck in the basket under the counter. No, look, fried at this time I find it rather indigestible. Maybe later. But she is adamant. "Frittig" . Just a bite, they are also in a hurry. "Frittig." But what is the supercazzola premature? Defeated, slurred speech a 'Ja' unconvinced - Later, in the office, I find his 'Frittig' (do you spell 'Fritig') would be the 'Freitag' in Swiss German. Friday. Nothing fried. bad.

The lady met, continues in its monosyllabic interrogation.

"Der name?"

Ah, this is easy, this is the know! I press the button.

"R. .... erg"

The lady drops the pen and you pull up. No, do not do it! On its face that appears in the morning in Zurich is impossible to see. As in Milan. A smile . No, no, I already understood. Do not do that, please. Gradually, changes from a smile to laughter that causes dentures to earthquakes and a shambles epileptic breast Juno. I know it is going to say, but do not say. Not this time. Please! But she, like molten lava dripping from the slopes of an erupting volcano, is unstoppable. So I prepare.
"Hahaha! R. ..... erg?! R. ..... erg?! Restaurant wie das hier in der Nähe, R. .... org !!!". As the restaurant nearby, R. .... org. "Wussten Sie?". Did you know? No. How could I

. It will only be the tenth time I repeated the same joke and all the alcohol drunk in the last twenty years my has some memory leak. As my parents have tried, with little success, to give me that little bit of education you need to go out to dinner and to avoid, including a plate of spaghetti and a cut in the blood, insert your fingers into the case and stick to the inner product Gross under the chair, laughing in my turn and I thank arterislerotica for donatami comic gem. But I love my post because I can work on the imagination and write what they want. So, I laugh, then I extract a shovel and gave it strikes the teeth , resulting in a curious reharmonization of 'Fra Martino bell'. Greetings and after seeing the bus to reach the stop, snap like a sprinter in effect of cannabis and I collapsed, then, unarmed, in the bottom row of seats.

Be '? Nothing, it's Monday. And with all due respect to David Hume, I would say that it is very likely that tomorrow will be Tuesday. Always before I fall on his head a meteorite, which does not mean that in any case, tomorrow is Tuesday and, at most, I'll be fifteen centimeters high and I have a lot of trouble to make my wardrobe. So, what can I say? of patients, which will soon be back Frittig . Good week to all!

Monday, February 14, 2011

Why Does Andy Six Have The Number

Journey to the End of the Night complement

Sometimes, during a conversation, you happen to come across do not know how to a topic that thought buried forever in the locked drawer of memories, those memories that seem to belong to a dusty forgotten world.

House pharmacist. The most beautiful of Milan. Also according to him. Between a slice of salami and a forkful of lasagna red hot - that evening I lost the use of certain consonants. Say my tax code, an insurmountable now - there's room for healthy speech. And what are you saying? For instance, the fact that writing 'what shall talk' is very funny, but as the meta-linguistic considerations in my posts make me narcoleptic, proceed. German . Yes, the very language, that produced by the vocal chords of a nation that bravely tackles the torrid summer afternoons of the Italic coasts dozing under beach umbrellas open constantly, ruddy faces, white socks and foot still stuck in the sand sandals . Or maybe this is me returning from a night? German. Yes, that's the language that I try in vain to study for a year and a half and that, for the most part, makes me barking like a Doberman . Well, you get what concerns the speech. Imagine the degree of solace. Why do not quibble about the German can be fun. There is an explicit rule that prohibits the German. It is the fifth If, after the name, genitive, dative and accusative: if you speak German, must be the most boring possible . Soporific. Do not ask me why, for how to correct or address of Mars that I do not know, but our minds suddenly find themselves embroiled in superfine something that suddenly awakens our stupidity. Will cigarettes. The waves alcohol. The stale air. Daria perhaps flawed, but I do not know. I make it short: logical analysis of the proposition. And what is the 'logical analysis of the proposition? The one thing that nobody remembers when he has studied. Some say in elementary school. Others are convinced average. Some say in high school. Few admit to college. The pharmacist admits to never having studied and give him act, you see. Consider the following sentence: 'Last night the two feedings Playboy bunnies have come to bed with me'. Now, aside from the obvious size optative utterance - the two bunnies but I continue to messages for now, are adamant - you can analyze each of the different elements that make up the sentence.

last night: Completion of time
the two feedings Playboy bunnies: Subject greatest attributes
came to bed with me, but certainly no coplemento many compliments

Roughly ... From nothing, to spoil the party for the expression , comes a Mephistophelean question: what is the complement of term? A pimply teenager would give us the answer immediately, but not having one at hand, we have to strut only with our ignorance. The question leaves us a long time with thoughtful expressions of that put a strain on our facial expressions. We go for exclusion. Is not the name of a disease. It is not an insult, or at least was not born as such. It does not have a mustache nor glasses, so you Frans. The method, however, it seems overly long and tedious. Needless to help the public. I try to call home, but wrong number and he answers Sara Tommasi : "I'll exclude from Obama." To complement the term?! And there came lighting. The eureka. The bodhi. Everybodhi say yeah. Yeah! Read carefully:

"Sara Tommasi is a selfless and generous girl, and by all"

Then, the complement of that term 'all'. Do you understand? No? I'll explain: in this case, unfortunately, will never be a complement term. Got it? Good week to all!

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Most Violent Cydia App

The demon possessed and

When I L L & L meet me - Lord enzo--, I already know what awaits me. I know because it's Friday night. I know because I'm in London . I know because one of the guests at the dinner of L & L is Mr. X, accessible anywhere, anytime at +666. The London flat L-L & L is very similar to the previous Zurich, with the exception of the ancestral graffiti on the wall of the bedroom that one of the main attractions in Switzerland. Books stacked next to the couch are a sign of a recent move. At the dinner table are expected, in addition to the landlord, the blond Satan and myself, that V, a lawyer with a history back to ski in St. Moritz, Milan and a girl, to please everyone, one of Rome.

The first to appear punctually at eight something, it's V, who moved to Milan, Florence, moved to St. Moritz, sent to New York and received bundled in London. Let me introduce myself. He looks at me e. ..

"We already know?". The question puts me in fear. In fact, his face I is not new . Seguage of the Socratic method Socratic , brachilogico just enough, in a few minutes I reach the Carràmba Carrà perfect with lots of squawking. Yes, we know. Yes, the world is small. And yes, there are no more between seasons, but if they had been so important, Vivaldi would have written on another series of concerts. Meanwhile, the telephone rings. I hear the cry of the damned souls. The door opens and here it is: in his long cashmere coat human the modern version of Beelzebub . Devoid of all sense of shame, as always, shows us a message he received shortly before her by a mysterious "is still valid for the invitation to go out for a drink?". We are talking about a call two weeks earlier. His answer was immediate: "Hello, I do not remember you, but I'm sure that if I came to know you have to be necessarily a very good girl." And with the expression of what has done it, goes out to smoke on the balcony and begins to message a escort. Ah, love! Meanwhile, L L & L begins to prepare dinner. It begins with the bruschetta with avocado. Perhaps the cheese, but I do not remember esttamente. Open a bottle of red. In a toast to another, have made the 10 a quarter, but the two girls - late in a quarter of an hour - no news. Tick \u200b\u200btock, tick tock, the clock running, but no news of the two girls. We sit at the table and entice our mouth with delicious buffalo mozzarella, tomatoes and excellent Portuguese wine. Tick \u200b\u200btock, tick tock, the clock running, but the two girls no news, and since they are ten and half past, to great acclaim decide to throw the pasta. And the call comes. Apologies to unclear circumstances. In short, they are not. Too bad, because Mr. X had in mind in the middle of dinner, to get entangled in the leg of one of the two - the Milan, a girl who, as I was told, in excess of humility, and that's why sometimes happen to mention in passing that she holds a pair of master. A couple. We do not know what does. But a couple-and strusciarvisi over like a dog in the presence of pillows. I admit, is a madman, but it's really hilarious . If your moral canons are those of the Marquis De Sade. When you end the practice of the two hick, we are ready to attack the tray filled with steaming pasta. Ciarla carefree, lightheartedness that you would like to last forever. Immortality is not our greatest illusion? Oh, how beautiful youth who escapes, however, there is no certainty about the future. So, have fun, and even so - Samuel Butler said that the world rather than to be preserved, is meant to be enjoyed. And what greater Goduria there at the end of the meal, after having drained a bottle of wine apiece, to fill our glasses with 's excellent sprayer with a little vodka' of redbull? Carefree, young, carefree. This carefree tipsy go out there and sneak into the first taxi that we stop. A friend of mine sent me a message . It is with some people in a club in Soho and asked me to join her. Seee ... I reply that I'm going Nozomi - Japanese restaurant and bar with the snobbish in Knightsbridge, frequented by footballers and the like and minds of Japanese who has perhaps only a few cars parked in the area -. If you like, find me there. He says he comes. No time to cross the threshold of local and I find myself with a cuba libre in his hands, as Mr. X, that there is at home, start an endless series of salaams - Inter alia by a beautiful girl who we reached out and placed in the carpus kissing mode, giving us an instant snobbery from anaphylactic shock - and the number dell'aggrovigliamento try and rub the legs of anyone wandering about. We laugh a lot, until you paste it to our own legs. Then we launch the attack in a column on which toyed with a certain transport. Meanwhile a black two-meter with the face of P Diddy but the expression even more stupid - and there will -, big fan of Chelsea, I break the balls on the fourth gold for Milan as my concentration that time is all focused on a couple of cups of samples to a young lady a little further on displays with pride. I do not know how, but the output is accompanied by a prize pulitzer barking at the door. The biggest mystery is how I can return five minutes later but you know, for some people, blacks and yellows, are all equal. The brute must have thought that this was certainly another person. The problem is that Jimmy, renamed it to us for reasons totally unknown and will be analyzed as soon as possible during an episode of Voyager, we will not do more to lift the feet. And after half an hour that no one addressed over the word, something you should be able to guess at Unless your brain has not been recently inserted by mistake inside a microwave oven and then blended with a couple of bananas. Still undecided what to do, we go out to fumarci a cigarette. Even Jimmy, even if does not smoke. Among other nicotine aspiration we know Anastasia, Russian banker with the features of a model that sheds tears over his tragic love life of rich bored on Friday evening: she would like to go dancing, but her friends seem to be willing to go home. Some people are of inhuman cruelty. We, the guys with a heart of gold and noble intentions, we do a proposal that will not rifutare. She thinks about it and while his brain is squirming on the what to do, the load weight in the first taxi . Jimmy hospitality but also look for us, who are already in five, we make hello hello with the hand. Poor Jimmy stays there, motionless, aware that will have to spend all night in the company of his embarrassing speech. Meanwhile, my friend notice the sudden change in plans. We get to bring Maddox, pussy London nightclub in the heart of Mayfair. When he came, we are greeted by a black wiry - a close friend of Mr X even though he hits him with a taser whenever the boyfriend pulls out a meter of lingual mucosa trying lemonade heavy - about as Platinette, but in English. We enter and one of us does not pay: guess who? No, it's Russian. Filed jackets, clear blisters and are ready to throw in track. A quick look and I realize to be finished in mansion Hugh Hefner . Or so it seems, so much so that my testosterone explodes and they find some residues at the bar. I beat my chest like a gorilla, grunts like a boar in heat and say the sentences are meaningless to me bunnies running around. Right at that moment, I get a message. My friend. Out. Should I let her. Mr. X speaks Platinero. Platinero looks at me and makes some appreciation.


"Do you smoke?"
"Yes"
"Sin".

Well ... In the end, even if my breath every fantasy castrates the nicotinic caving on me, decided to meet me. Without double meanings. He opens the door e. .. my friend is there. Smiles. and alone! And I already knew. I take it by the hand and more or less as would a medium sized primate, the drag in the room directly below the counter and without going through the street. Start series ceiling vodka red bull. She, with her blouse half open, I turn around sensually making me regress to the state of sperm. To try to recover and reach at least the adolescent phase, I sow my tracks and The reach of L & L and V, stranded near the busty Slavic, who immediately grabbed and I regularly swirl , dull the senses. Some traditions should be respected. Always. After the rotation, I'm going back to the bar. Fatigue is a very short, hell! And while I order, I see to my left, above the cube, my friend that shakes like a possessed and behind her, clinging like an octopus, Mr. X. That boy can not leave him alone even for a second. Armed with my vodka redbull makes me invincible I appropinquo the scene of the crime and restore with ignorance hierarchical orders of the dominant alpha male. Affected by hormonal anxiety attack, I promises the nightmare of perfume, treacherous hopes of millions of manly. Exorcise the fear of speaking with L & L, but it seems to side with the basic thesis. The theory, pace Popper, is falsified a few minutes later when my friend decided to stick his face to mine, with all that this entails. Needless to tell you is the following, you definitely have a good imagination. The next day is a race not to miss the plane : I come home to The L & L, who had already made a few calls to Scotland Yard, I throw you need to throw in the suitcase, I greet I take a taxi, arriving at the station, I rush to make the ticket, I put sull'Heathrow Express one minute before the departure, arrival at the airport, I headed rocket at check in, pass all the checks, I press on toward the terminal e. .. the plane is late. The plane of the Swiss?! There are more Swiss than once, dammit! At ten o'clock in the evening are home. You think it's all over but instead get a message. Mr. X. The devil is in Zurich. We go out? You see, just as the saying goes, to err human, to persevere is diabolical and do two nights with Mr. X is prohibited by the Geneva International Convention . Good week to all!

Monday, January 17, 2011

Yu-gi-oh ! Gx Duel Academy Cheat On Vba

Gang Bangs of New York - Part Four


Awakening is not the easiest. I still have a vivid picture of the frightful Linda Blair and Israeli to get rid of it I just have to slip in the shower, open the hot water tap, water to roar until it reaches the boiling temperature and remain motionless for about ten minutes, just long enough to clean even with all that wax, which tends to lurk around my brain. I could stay there for hours if only I were not going to visit Brooklyn, Chinatown and Little Italy . So, I found shortly after walking in the streets of New York with the usual tall scalding milk for him and for her retardant and a donut in his hands. No metro, today I do the whole walk. Midway through a crowd, radunatasi for the occasion, follow me for a few meters and encouraging them giving me energy drinks' s EPO and a calendar of Playboy that makes me mist up sunglasses. At half, when the legs begin to yield me and I cut out the intestines stomach acid, I decided to stop for a pizza from Grimaldi . It seems that the time was frequented by Frank Sinatra . The pizza, which I'm lucky to share with a cute girl he met while waiting for a table, is ontologically what it was for the battleship Potemkin Fantozzi. Just one average American's bulging cheesburger, coca and breasts of Pamela Anderson might mistake it for that kind of tasty focaccia stuffed with that much good they do in Italy. At least the girl with whom I have the pleasure of talking for over an hour, a Californian in his thirties, is nice. It is located in New York because he has just attended American edition of 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire' . I ask how it went but it tells me that because of his religion, it is not allowed riverlarmelo. Then he confesses that it has signed a contract in which you assume the responsibility to not tell anyone about the outcome of the episode before it aired. In addition, it has the absolute obligation not to blurt out to right and left that Obama is really black . Wow! After lunch and conversation topics, I bid farewell to my host city and resume the marathon between fascist insignia 'Da Benito' mysterious characters and probably stuffed spring rolls. Never in my life I would have thought you could walk for so long . When you return to the hotel, the sun went down for a while. It's almost nine. I lie on the bed, exhausted. I pull the phone. Three missed calls. All the same person. The girl who the night before trying to hypnotize, impaled, scrutinizing the soul through the eyes. The recall. Ah, hello, blah blah blah, I was running around with a friend - another?! - and did you think of me and bla bla bla aperitif. Lei I, eh, no, bla bla bla, bla bla bla Brooklyn, want to go out to eat something? Why I hate eating alone : finished reading the menu, I never know where to look and I always feel paranoid that people spend your time staring at me. Like the one over there. You, no I have already eaten, but if you want to do together. I, okay. You know a good Italian restaurant near my hotel.

Excellent Italian restaurant? I do not want to argue, I'm tired and hungry. Appointment there in front of a quarter to ten. I take a taxi. The taxi is stuck in traffic.

"Well, tonight there is a concert by Bon Jovi "

However, the information I was not very helpful. Midway - about two weeks later - ordered the taxi driver to stop.

"I continue to walk"

The taxi driver makes mad but if I arrive late, then Bon Jovi was hurt. I'm late. It accelerates the pace. Corro. She is there in front waiting for me.

"I'm sorry. Bon Jovi playing there. " I think it's a good excuse. Will use it more often. Let's go. The restaurant is huge. A waiter definitely homosexual who poses as if in fact it was even more, there is place in a secluded area of \u200b\u200bthe room. I order a salad as a starter - "Do not plan a portion, please. A normal, thanks "-, spaghetti, and two glasses of red wine. Her ice cream. When the waiter returned, holding in his hand a field of lettuce, carrots and tomatoes . Fuck! Good thing I brought the mower and rake. The noodles are overcooked . Never get in an Italian restaurant to take anyone who tries to speak our language, saying, 'salami' and 'Grazzia'. Meanwhile, she has abandoned the climb that mountain of snow-covered ice cream and chocolate. The reading of my soul shall creandomi many embarrassments. I speak of this and that and not much else because my mathematical culture has somewhat decreased over the years. Miraculously, I can finish the plate of spaghetti. The glasses of wine from two became four, but the fate is the same. It's time to make a decision. So I know how it ends.

"Want to go for a drink", I ask? She nods her head. I smile, stupid for the most part by the gargantuan meal, I get up and go to the bathroom to fix a thing. A guy in his seventies, intent on draining vehemently a prostate sufferer, he turns to me and mutters something unintelligible that it does sganasciare laughter. It also sketches a lock on me and I more beautiful. Once the logistical operation, I settle my hair, I'll wink and I'm ready for my triumphant return. What I see, however, will not let me taste the ultimate victory: she is next to him and seems to be talking animatedly. I approached cautiously. The guy turns around.

"You have to be David." They found me, dammit!
"Yes, hello, pleased." Reach out my hand as I was taught. "And you're ?""****, pleasure. **** Told me last night. You were a great, few would have done the same for you "
" But no, I figured. It is because I am Italian, you know. " What an idiot answer, but I thought just now. "Are you also Israel?". I seem to recognize the accent.
"Yes, ****". Ah, from the city of ****. How strange ...
"What are you doing here in New York?"
"I am here to work. A couple of months, "

After the brief introduction, she takes him under his arm, and moving toward the exit, states with a" Ok, we have to go. We'll see "the end of the evening. I remain bewildered there for a few seconds, then close the jacket, put his hands in his pockets and walked toward the hotel. It is said that curiosity is a woman, but you can see that in my case is an exception. As soon as I enter the room, I connect to Facebook and I put her name in the search. It takes me slightly to find it, given that the personal information in my possession did not find an exact match. I read a profile in "Married to". And guess what 'who is the husband? The next day I

storm of phone calls and messages. To which I say not. Insults me as well. What can I say ... I'm sorry for him, horned platonic. I feel sorry for me, a fool taken for a ride. I'm sorry, but not so much for her, and not an idiot Dostoevsky, because only an idiot can planning a tryst at his favorite restaurant in New York. Do not do moral judgments. Do not I can afford, but even I have my values. Sure, some would argue, to Woody Allen, who are a notch below those of an insurance agent, but in any case, there are. And most importantly, I do not like a person omits material information relevant to say .... That said, everyone, once it slips under the covers and turns off the light, must come to terms with his conscience. Unfortunately, due to alcohol, I will find one that mumbles and do not understand what he wants to tell me never . Patience and health. Good week to all!