After the semi-flop of the last post, you had promised to raise a bit 'the moral of this blog.
You thought that the shooting patrons of this little corner of cyber frustration could also have beautifully broken my balls of your complaints. Why not.
So did you remain silent.
And today you decide to write again not because your mood has changed, but simply because they do not want to reveal to yourself that you give up the blog. But not those even the words that would be too busy as an asset.
order not to bore the unfortunate readers, circles, and almost certainly contrary to the usual bankruptcy, be brief.
- white flag, you soft. You can not do it. Are you tired of fighting and complaining. They win. Did you have a customer wanted, what the fuck are you complaining about? Next, as a good, empty you know how you do, sing a dwarf curly and agitated at the piano, in a tribute to Cocciante. Emptied and then filled with useless facts that shine on the daily curriculum. Give up your passions. Do not give yourself a dinner with friends. Do not dream of being able to take care of your projects. Not your relationship, not your parents. You married your work, it would be frustrating as married Jesus, only that eventually end up in hell also.
- The RAF, your historical friend who lived in Milan before you us it transferred you, go away. Two days ago you made the drink goodbye. He goes to Bologna. There are his, his sister, her nieces, her boyfriend. The work will find it. And you, in his place, would you have done the same too. You and the RAF have also coined a new motto existential-generational: "No Hope". Subtitle: "No, we can."
Then the RAF added "Maybe me and said so before ..." - "It was this what we rush to squander the savings of our parents' implied.
However, in less than a piece of family, for you, in this pleasure-loving city that is full of old family pieces (in the sense of the word mafia).
- Ciarli yesterday did an interview in Palermo. You've fantasized about an interesting place, then. You may also send you CV to apply in Palermo and a good agency with the sea in front of the desk. It could be the new trend: "Let us return to our crime, we return to our unemployment, back to our pollution, people go home!"
Have you tried to explain to chatter that a defeat would not return, no turning back. Have you tried to explain that, if possible, return would be the only sensible thing to do.
- Amnesia believed to be clinically depressed. Clinically, I think I am too.
- Amnesia and chat - who are roommates - until a few months ago every morning crossed the corridor in the morning and said "I do not want to go to school" - "School shit." Now cross in the corridor and say in unison: "Life shit."
- You come to the conclusion that we do not reproduce it, we pay off as a race. And rightly so. People who lose a relationship, who will work 12 hours a day to € 1000 per month will not have a family. Good that you can go pick up a quick lunch break in sexual intercourse with someone who suffers from premature ejaculation (if one of the benefits of your agency will include a weekly appointment with Simplicio Siffredi - Rocco younger brother - that the VAT number you may also download - for anyone who wants to use them, you're sure that the air would be more breathable, which would save some PR in beauty treatments for the benefit of their skin).
- Would you like to comment on something on the news, on politics, cultural fascism ... but at the moment have lost the interest for that too, because after a bit 'interest is lost, it becomes even there, made gentle and docile. Dishes and exhausted.
Amen.
For the rest you're just waiting to lose the mental health and the desire to live, to gain happiness. One day you read in the newspaper a title like:
twenty-four suicide bombers blew up in a footnote agency
PR Milan
disappointment among the members of the League: "It was not nemmanco Muslim! "
At that point, think of me.
waste it And a prayer for me, pray that hell is at least plays rock.
And above all: "You asshole editor bankruptcy that happened on this blog after my departure turbulent, public memories of this poor soul precarious, exploited and broken up, much worse than the brother one of Rino Gaetano.
Then send the volume to the Italian ruling class, not before cosparco every single page of anthrax. Then, when someone tells you, that I was just a whiny scassacazzi and delirious, you show them a good average, a little grinding 'teeth. Do not say "fuck", however, which seems a little boy, my dear editor bankruptcy that happened on this blog after my departure turbulent. "
Well, at this point, you're at it, you will:
- target the BarrettMobile Pepo your best friend, who has stopped smoking and about to graduate in medicine, so I can use it a bit 'before handing it to the benefit of a Porsche Cayenne
- Destini your collection of DVDs in the middle Melinda, along with the gray sweatshirt with hood.
- Destini your plate to the RAF, which has straight hair and soft but never mind, keep it in vain to remember his friend with the bulb paglifero.
- deliver your 32-inch television chatter and Amnesia, because you know they'll love
- Destini your wardrobe to the poor
- Destini your shoe collection for the benefit of Google Analytics, thanks to a giveaway on this blog, which is fashionable to put shit up for grabs to increase access. And then the glory of post-mortem draws much dippiù.
- Destini your poster Gaia
- Destini set of glasses we had with each Mc Mc Donald Menu Peppone
- Destini your make-up for poor Eveline, the door of your building
- the Fates 'i-pod shuffle to your cousins, who will use it to turn
- Destini your collection of magnets to your mother
- Destini your unpublished writings to your father, hoping that you do not disassociate
Your HP Pavilion no, the cocks, that want to take it in the afterlife.
past now, and Close. But
return, I hope.
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