Mammamia.
Simple, buttery and compact word that whale in the head from the moment you open up my eyes (I would like to point out that the term "open" is used for the mussels) in the morning.
The correct term would be "eternal and constant anxiety that" ...
But a growing anxiety in the ground of dissatisfaction ...
not experience anxiety on a tree of uncertainty ...
simply a pure and simple question: Why
always call early in the morning?
because they speak so fast?
Why ask me the same things (things he misses paper and pen to write down my data or the neuron with the information commits suicide every time I finish talking)? But above all
(deep breath ).... WHY
'NOTCH so much "CAMPANACCI" SE NN ABLE TO FIND A JOB TO PEOPLE?
You see, after more than a month here at the north pole Europe, you begin to understand some things, to know people and so on ...
These things never happened.
still can not understand a club and I have not met anyone. The only person with whom I have human relationships (and Karima raising Marco) is the recruiter of Hays who called me about 8 or 9 times always leaving a voicemail message (if it's because more than one call a day and be offended crisis in cardiovascular) that I I never understood a bat because he speaks as if he had run out of money in the phone (about 500% faster than an average human).
I know him better than my brother at times (but gets you to the otherwise wants to bring her out to dinner), but still calls me Daniel Leon (as is the film's Jean Reno). The 6 or 7 times I said that I'm unemployed and my last job was in Italy but it keeps asking me what job I do. In short, it's like a nightmare, where a guy smashed the temporal lobe of the brain is convinced of having to meet, and he calls you every morning asking for confirmation for now ...
Returning for a second serious (hard thing Asthe my sanity if it is taken away the constant Rain London) are still with her ass on the ground but do not lose heart and hold on (although as I write my pants are soaked with tears.)
We know that hope is the last to die (though this time it seems to me a challenge like "Tom Thumb against Goiath" or "man of paper that passes through the hot coals without burning) and then we
quiet and serene ( "-Karima just hit his head on the wall! We rise the deposit !!!!- sorry ... apparently there was a mosquito) than ever before.
addition to this we also discovered with great joy that our already 'm perfect for home (the one with the scratched wooden floors, doors broken wall unit, with the scale removed, broken windows, with the basement to the limits of the room and so on ...) has a hole in the wall in the basement from which sprout in the evening nice snails half a meter long, which at best can be used as a pillow, but you alzeresti every morning as if I had drooled over (the pillow) or as if I had slept on a bed of Simmenthal.
In both cases it would not be pleasant.
Daniel
PS
calling me tomorrow morning on the first answer words:
"Go Fuck Yourself And Your Mother That Suck Dicks In The Hell Motherfucki'n. Comprehend DO YOU?"
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..
.
would be a descent of style for a gentleman like me.
Never mind.
Dany
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