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Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
How Long To Give Penacillin To Dog
"Seeking shelter without comfort overlooking the Star" or the paradox of Christmas.
The Invisible becomes visible. But how? God becomes man, the son of a carpenter. One would have expected better.
The Son of God born of a virgin. The Word is crashing Sinai low wail of an infant. The darkness of the night the world lights up with a new star. The silence of the child's parents and shepherds is troubled by the praise of "celestial troops of angels."
God embraces humanity
The Word is silent,
Silence sings
Night Lights.
As an adult, the child of Nazareth still cultivates paradox. He healed the mute, He commanded discretion. Before the crown offered to her, he declines the offer. A dazzling face of the Transfiguration succeeds swollen face of the crucified. Yet He knows silence the forces of evil. He raises his voice when He Clears the Temple, scribes and Pharisees, when He apostrophe, or that He teaches the crowds. He took refuge in the solitude of the mountain and appears when you least expect it.
Alerted by the second report of Bishop Dagens and in conformity with Rome is concerned that a prolonged eclipse of the Faith in the West, the Church of France launched the slogan of visibility and even challenge in contradiction with the contemporary world. Following the merger with the men and women of their time that some thought be the result of Vatican II, here the time has come to remove the plug that hid the lamp to "put on a lamp" (Mt 5 0.13 to 16).
Simple swing the pendulum of history ? Happy imitation of the alternation of thirty years of hidden life and three years of public life? Good pastoral strategy that responds to an urgent need for markers which our contemporary need? Matter of experience or education? Indeed it illuminates well as good distance from the object: neither too close nor too far. There was thus in some sort of old kitchen ceiling which thanks to a subtle mechanism of pulleys and counterweights to allow the single bulb in the room to change position depending on the intensity of light desired.
I fear that these tests, heard here or there, do not lead Christians to oppose two positions and locked in unproductive confrontations because they reduce the mystery of God made man for our infirm mental patterns. However, what we have said Christmas and Jesus shows us that he exists simultaneously in the Gospel, word usage and the use of silence, the darkness and the light radiated accepted, the cry of fright Passion and prayer whispered. In other words, God does not follow any strategy, not locked up either in words or in writing or in pictures or in the visible or invisible in or not in attitude in another. It blew all our narrow categories and that is why we find it paradoxical.
The bright light of Tabor illuminates the night of the empty tomb beckons, the pilot can illuminate the tabernacle. The landfill is not necessarily embodiment, display media is not necessarily visible, the sign does not lead necessarily writing legibility, communication is not enough to evangelism. The full glare of day can produce a deceptive gloss effect that captures the light on him. Caritas, she radiates from within day night, she is our only real visibility.
God became man ... and the whole man and all men will never say any of that God there and never see that side of his shadow as the one that touched his cloak, we just - paradoxically - by letting us cover it to become visible.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
How To Build A Bios Dungle For Toshiba Laptops
It's like that, she said nothing. Two words sometimes and a shy smile when everything goes really well. But not often. Most times it is silent, can remain silent for days.
In this small town where she has always lived his parents ran a delicatessen whose reputation was never challenged as its owners had the constant worry. She was born in the store, more precisely in this back room crowded with boxes and crates of fruit and vegetables waiting to display with the help of the midwife of the neighborhood that a client 's eager to go and tell. It is weighing beans that her mother felt the first contractions, one of which was so violent that the bag fell from his hands. Oh what a mess! The memory of a life these beans on the floor!
Mother never told anything else about the late birth of his only daughter. Nothing about his frail constitution, its small size and weight of flies too badly and too soon fell from the nest. Nothing about what followed his permanent state of weakness, her thinness, her pallor and her sad, furious his silence, his solitude. Nothing about his childhood, nothing on it.
She later unable to tell Mom, Mother stammering painfully when she could escape the trap of the daily trade. Acting alone in her tiny room, pronounced slowly in the dark: Ma .. man-man My Mom.
Growing up in his thinness and his pallor among the children restless and careless of his age, but always in the middle away. And one day, woman. By the blood flowing from any injury, these red tears at the strange odor coming, thought she that sorrow never admitted crying so much and for so long inside that it overflowed, now.
- It's clean! you'll change your sheets yourself and next time I hope that you will care!
- I'll be careful, Mother, I'll be careful.
How many nights after, standing before the mirror, the lamp between her legs, bending over her mouth pink velvet where the tears had flowed that it should now contain absolutely not to be angry Ma Man .. My Mom -man. Makes you wonder how to arrange a sorrow who does that 'at its head. What to do that ever, ever happening again this shame? So what did mother say the next time?
There was one, and many others where the sheets were cleaned in secret. In secret, too, she learned all of the machine body through books borrowed from the library and hidden under the mattress. Then came the time of love, loves another, which Line, the neighbor brazen, neglecting no detail, he recounted the events sulphurous, changing configurations, the vagaries of ordinary teenage relationships. She listened, unmoved. The fury would come in the night would mix mouths, tongues and bodies, oaths of mad love, caresses fiery ghosts of lovers throwing their lives at his feet. They had no faces, they all had the sarabande and would extend until the last haggard exhaustion plunging into sleep, if Ma .. man-man My Mom did not burst at the peak of his dreams screaming It's clean!
At twenty-one years, graduating, she entered the local branch of Credit Agricole through the intercession of his father with his manager. The two men share the same taste for hunting and weapons had met club clay pigeon shooting locally and quickly became good friends as any closer in a radically pragmatic world. His banking career was decided between two volleys of lead, a Sunday morning in February, where a discussion greatly performed on the futility of literary studies that wished to undertake the girl, who shyly it was open to his parents, led to the decision to pull it willy-nilly the deadlock that it had chosen. She obtained her baccalaureate at the end of the school year, was certain he had promptly provide the result of his studies that inform it in due course. Common sense should prevail over any other fad. The literature that was good for writers, he had to sit down faster on his life sound basis which would avoid an uncertain future uncertain. The bank would be great for her, he would choose a position unrelated to the clients, or as little as possible, and the matter would be made. Also
stoic that 'as usual, that evening she listened to the explanations for the proposition father. Without eyebrow or any visible sign of disagreement she buried her desires in the palm of his silence and consented to the will of Father and Mother as she had always done everything. When summer came, she was praised for his brilliantly bin obtained by providing a week of rest that it would go to her aunt's side Underground, full Basement, what a beautiful county! to enjoy the good country air. The calm of the place would be extremely beneficial. In return, it would help the store, as in past years, and in September it would integrate its training that would lead later to the bank. Everything was planned. For his own good. She no longer had that 'studiously applying the instructions. You see how we décarcasse for you, my daughter. But we trust you will have never disappointed us, we are sure you will succeed and that our sacrifices will be rewarded. What would we do not for you.
Sir, unfortunately, had not the chance to witness its entry into active life. He died prematurely in a car accident in the early morning, during a delivery of supplies to one of its oldest customers into a restaurant a few miles away from the city. Bad luck continues honest men 's granted does one say at the funeral. For his final year before retirement is still sad, but that that is what you want is like this.
mother, unable to assume sole management of the store, soon not to sell the business and his apartment upstairs. She went to live in this modest house, which was acquired by the couple with their savings and some investments wisely advised by a banker friend. They sometimes spent weekends during the life of sir, a little bored as they did not know live outside their store.
Concerns caused by the move adding to the sadness of the loss of her husband, mother's health declined rapidly. Unable to meet their basic needs and maintain its housing, however, she refused categorically to engage any expense in the salary of a housemaid claiming that her late husband would have condemned the use of any external assistance, if expensive to boot. In Lepage we had always managed their own, with pride, would continue in memory of Marcel, who could rest in peace and honor of the family would be safe.
- that's what would have told your father, my daughter. Your studies you leave enough free time to take care of me. You never go out, anyway. We'll get both, it is the only solution.
She agreed that it was the only one, indeed. The Months passed, just out of her studies she joined the bank at any time and promised his life between his work was organized and Mother, especially Mother, demanding his presence at any time. Mother and her constant demands, his memories endlessly discussed but tattles his monologues, his obsession with death, his nightmares and screams at night, and his concern about the heritage, the papers do, the contents of the will, the address of the notary to check again. And you remember to bring me my magazine to call the painter for the shutters, my poor parts that we would have had to repaint more soon with all the rain in our country, I told you yet. Besides it will be your house someday. I wonder why you do not you worry more. Tell your father and me we worked all our lives to this house, and you have the air of not having anything to do. And how many times I told you to cut the finest vegetables for soup, don 'you hear not your poor mother? Ah, if your father was still there it would happen otherwise, you benefit from my weakness just to do that 'in your head, I see what happens. If you told me once that my own daughter would treat me this so ... my god as I have sorrow, as I grieve.
soon returned home, that is to say at Mother, she had that a haste to leave that quickly. Her life was slowly transformed into a torture unbearable that each day has risen one degree of pain. Lifted soon, she checked that everything was in order in the house, preparing breakfast for Mother opened the shutters of the kitchen and fled noiselessly to his work as we run out to sea, and quickly, to breathe lungs.
Life with Mother became every day more difficult. Everything was good his condemnation, and not a night passed without that it does awaken screaming and gesticulating against its beings from tormenting her, she claimed ruffled, hands flailing in all directions.
- You do not see them?! But there they are my daughter, they are there, and others will come! You have everything well closed the door and shutters? Will check back and tell me , go! And if the doctor comes, tell him I never want to see.
- Mother, nobody comes, nobody. I beg you, calm yourself .
- If so, it will come. It comes every afternoon with his dogs.
- Mother, not the afternoon, it is night.
- Ah ...? Are you sure? ... the night of what month?
She could rest until his mother, exhausted, slept a few hours. Rest illusory she did not know what to do. She remained there, sitting in this house where absurd madness already, and the eventual death had taken its place. Death, the death of Mother that it caught herself almost wish. Including the haunting evocation without that it would refuse now in the strange and soothing anticipation. At the funeral of his she was found worthy father in his grief, a remarkable restraint for a girl so devoted to his parents, a gentleman whose behavior would have been proud.
She watched his long bony hands resting on the armrests of the chair, motionless. No, it would have been proud, sir, if he could read his thoughts. His restraint was only coldness and distance. Nothing, no feelings of sadness do not disturb. She looked at the coffin as it looks on a plate, a chair, any object. She felt nothing. The death of his father was that a new data would change the course of his negative life since it would force it, she knew, to live with Mother. This perspective then was more painful than his father's disappearance. Of two evils she measured the worst, and this one would live. TODAY 'hui she lived.
For how long, when all this would end it ? She stared at his hands on the armrests. Mechanically, it compressed the foam beneath his fingers. It was soft, almost sensual. Like skin. On the sideboard in the kitchen Mother danced a waltz with the Father in the colors of the time, face raised to the that it had just married. She watched his hands on the velvet, Mother's face in the photograph, her neck stretched toward Father. This young woman, pretty, bright look at, what destiny we abyss? She looked at his bony hands, white. His fingers. Neck. Velvet. This stranger who danced. Night by the window in the house, her mother in the night around. She thought of tomorrow, the other day. Then the next, then another, all the days to come, in perpetuity. How long Mother, demanding drink, the called it, more and more low? She was not listening, was not receiving his words, heard more sense, only their music became plaintive murmur now. Mother's voice, slowly, had diminished. His calls were only murmurs, barely. And everything is soon changed into a strange lullaby.
When she awoke, curled up in the chair, silence reigned in the house. She was no longer that a stone could not move even a finger. The only sound was the wind around the house. She opened her eyes painfully, nothing stirred in the night as the clouds rolling over the moon. She no longer felt that the machinery of his body which every body seemed to him self and fragile. She thought that at least movement all its parts fall off, that it was better to stay still. And wait. Expect to meet, get together. She looked down at his hands as the moon shone for a moment and then turned toward the bedroom door. Mother? ... Mother? ... Only the wind whistled softly outside, Mother did not answer. Never again would not answer, she knew.
She got up, opened the door of the chamber, approached the bed in the dark. Mother lying there with his eyes open. She closed her in a slow caress that it lasted until her cheeks. She sat on the bed, took her hand in his Mother, and time stopped. Something in it, then, was resolved a long time.
the first rays of dawn she left the room and returned to his chair, crouched there like an animal exhausted income of nowhere. A red sun rose above the dark mass of trees in the garden. Surrendering to sleep, she looked at the woman on the sideboard in the kitchen, turning all smiles in waltz time. Mom.
In this small town where she has always lived his parents ran a delicatessen whose reputation was never challenged as its owners had the constant worry. She was born in the store, more precisely in this back room crowded with boxes and crates of fruit and vegetables waiting to display with the help of the midwife of the neighborhood that a client 's eager to go and tell. It is weighing beans that her mother felt the first contractions, one of which was so violent that the bag fell from his hands. Oh what a mess! The memory of a life these beans on the floor!
Mother never told anything else about the late birth of his only daughter. Nothing about his frail constitution, its small size and weight of flies too badly and too soon fell from the nest. Nothing about what followed his permanent state of weakness, her thinness, her pallor and her sad, furious his silence, his solitude. Nothing about his childhood, nothing on it.
She later unable to tell Mom, Mother stammering painfully when she could escape the trap of the daily trade. Acting alone in her tiny room, pronounced slowly in the dark: Ma .. man-man My Mom.
Growing up in his thinness and his pallor among the children restless and careless of his age, but always in the middle away. And one day, woman. By the blood flowing from any injury, these red tears at the strange odor coming, thought she that sorrow never admitted crying so much and for so long inside that it overflowed, now.
- It's clean! you'll change your sheets yourself and next time I hope that you will care!
- I'll be careful, Mother, I'll be careful.
How many nights after, standing before the mirror, the lamp between her legs, bending over her mouth pink velvet where the tears had flowed that it should now contain absolutely not to be angry Ma Man .. My Mom -man. Makes you wonder how to arrange a sorrow who does that 'at its head. What to do that ever, ever happening again this shame? So what did mother say the next time?
There was one, and many others where the sheets were cleaned in secret. In secret, too, she learned all of the machine body through books borrowed from the library and hidden under the mattress. Then came the time of love, loves another, which Line, the neighbor brazen, neglecting no detail, he recounted the events sulphurous, changing configurations, the vagaries of ordinary teenage relationships. She listened, unmoved. The fury would come in the night would mix mouths, tongues and bodies, oaths of mad love, caresses fiery ghosts of lovers throwing their lives at his feet. They had no faces, they all had the sarabande and would extend until the last haggard exhaustion plunging into sleep, if Ma .. man-man My Mom did not burst at the peak of his dreams screaming It's clean!
At twenty-one years, graduating, she entered the local branch of Credit Agricole through the intercession of his father with his manager. The two men share the same taste for hunting and weapons had met club clay pigeon shooting locally and quickly became good friends as any closer in a radically pragmatic world. His banking career was decided between two volleys of lead, a Sunday morning in February, where a discussion greatly performed on the futility of literary studies that wished to undertake the girl, who shyly it was open to his parents, led to the decision to pull it willy-nilly the deadlock that it had chosen. She obtained her baccalaureate at the end of the school year, was certain he had promptly provide the result of his studies that inform it in due course. Common sense should prevail over any other fad. The literature that was good for writers, he had to sit down faster on his life sound basis which would avoid an uncertain future uncertain. The bank would be great for her, he would choose a position unrelated to the clients, or as little as possible, and the matter would be made. Also
stoic that 'as usual, that evening she listened to the explanations for the proposition father. Without eyebrow or any visible sign of disagreement she buried her desires in the palm of his silence and consented to the will of Father and Mother as she had always done everything. When summer came, she was praised for his brilliantly bin obtained by providing a week of rest that it would go to her aunt's side Underground, full Basement, what a beautiful county! to enjoy the good country air. The calm of the place would be extremely beneficial. In return, it would help the store, as in past years, and in September it would integrate its training that would lead later to the bank. Everything was planned. For his own good. She no longer had that 'studiously applying the instructions. You see how we décarcasse for you, my daughter. But we trust you will have never disappointed us, we are sure you will succeed and that our sacrifices will be rewarded. What would we do not for you.
Sir, unfortunately, had not the chance to witness its entry into active life. He died prematurely in a car accident in the early morning, during a delivery of supplies to one of its oldest customers into a restaurant a few miles away from the city. Bad luck continues honest men 's granted does one say at the funeral. For his final year before retirement is still sad, but that that is what you want is like this.
mother, unable to assume sole management of the store, soon not to sell the business and his apartment upstairs. She went to live in this modest house, which was acquired by the couple with their savings and some investments wisely advised by a banker friend. They sometimes spent weekends during the life of sir, a little bored as they did not know live outside their store.
Concerns caused by the move adding to the sadness of the loss of her husband, mother's health declined rapidly. Unable to meet their basic needs and maintain its housing, however, she refused categorically to engage any expense in the salary of a housemaid claiming that her late husband would have condemned the use of any external assistance, if expensive to boot. In Lepage we had always managed their own, with pride, would continue in memory of Marcel, who could rest in peace and honor of the family would be safe.
- that's what would have told your father, my daughter. Your studies you leave enough free time to take care of me. You never go out, anyway. We'll get both, it is the only solution.
She agreed that it was the only one, indeed. The Months passed, just out of her studies she joined the bank at any time and promised his life between his work was organized and Mother, especially Mother, demanding his presence at any time. Mother and her constant demands, his memories endlessly discussed but tattles his monologues, his obsession with death, his nightmares and screams at night, and his concern about the heritage, the papers do, the contents of the will, the address of the notary to check again. And you remember to bring me my magazine to call the painter for the shutters, my poor parts that we would have had to repaint more soon with all the rain in our country, I told you yet. Besides it will be your house someday. I wonder why you do not you worry more. Tell your father and me we worked all our lives to this house, and you have the air of not having anything to do. And how many times I told you to cut the finest vegetables for soup, don 'you hear not your poor mother? Ah, if your father was still there it would happen otherwise, you benefit from my weakness just to do that 'in your head, I see what happens. If you told me once that my own daughter would treat me this so ... my god as I have sorrow, as I grieve.
soon returned home, that is to say at Mother, she had that a haste to leave that quickly. Her life was slowly transformed into a torture unbearable that each day has risen one degree of pain. Lifted soon, she checked that everything was in order in the house, preparing breakfast for Mother opened the shutters of the kitchen and fled noiselessly to his work as we run out to sea, and quickly, to breathe lungs.
Life with Mother became every day more difficult. Everything was good his condemnation, and not a night passed without that it does awaken screaming and gesticulating against its beings from tormenting her, she claimed ruffled, hands flailing in all directions.
- You do not see them?! But there they are my daughter, they are there, and others will come! You have everything well closed the door and shutters? Will check back and tell me , go! And if the doctor comes, tell him I never want to see.
- Mother, nobody comes, nobody. I beg you, calm yourself .
- If so, it will come. It comes every afternoon with his dogs.
- Mother, not the afternoon, it is night.
- Ah ...? Are you sure? ... the night of what month?
She could rest until his mother, exhausted, slept a few hours. Rest illusory she did not know what to do. She remained there, sitting in this house where absurd madness already, and the eventual death had taken its place. Death, the death of Mother that it caught herself almost wish. Including the haunting evocation without that it would refuse now in the strange and soothing anticipation. At the funeral of his she was found worthy father in his grief, a remarkable restraint for a girl so devoted to his parents, a gentleman whose behavior would have been proud.
She watched his long bony hands resting on the armrests of the chair, motionless. No, it would have been proud, sir, if he could read his thoughts. His restraint was only coldness and distance. Nothing, no feelings of sadness do not disturb. She looked at the coffin as it looks on a plate, a chair, any object. She felt nothing. The death of his father was that a new data would change the course of his negative life since it would force it, she knew, to live with Mother. This perspective then was more painful than his father's disappearance. Of two evils she measured the worst, and this one would live. TODAY 'hui she lived.
For how long, when all this would end it ? She stared at his hands on the armrests. Mechanically, it compressed the foam beneath his fingers. It was soft, almost sensual. Like skin. On the sideboard in the kitchen Mother danced a waltz with the Father in the colors of the time, face raised to the that it had just married. She watched his hands on the velvet, Mother's face in the photograph, her neck stretched toward Father. This young woman, pretty, bright look at, what destiny we abyss? She looked at his bony hands, white. His fingers. Neck. Velvet. This stranger who danced. Night by the window in the house, her mother in the night around. She thought of tomorrow, the other day. Then the next, then another, all the days to come, in perpetuity. How long Mother, demanding drink, the called it, more and more low? She was not listening, was not receiving his words, heard more sense, only their music became plaintive murmur now. Mother's voice, slowly, had diminished. His calls were only murmurs, barely. And everything is soon changed into a strange lullaby.
When she awoke, curled up in the chair, silence reigned in the house. She was no longer that a stone could not move even a finger. The only sound was the wind around the house. She opened her eyes painfully, nothing stirred in the night as the clouds rolling over the moon. She no longer felt that the machinery of his body which every body seemed to him self and fragile. She thought that at least movement all its parts fall off, that it was better to stay still. And wait. Expect to meet, get together. She looked down at his hands as the moon shone for a moment and then turned toward the bedroom door. Mother? ... Mother? ... Only the wind whistled softly outside, Mother did not answer. Never again would not answer, she knew.
She got up, opened the door of the chamber, approached the bed in the dark. Mother lying there with his eyes open. She closed her in a slow caress that it lasted until her cheeks. She sat on the bed, took her hand in his Mother, and time stopped. Something in it, then, was resolved a long time.
the first rays of dawn she left the room and returned to his chair, crouched there like an animal exhausted income of nowhere. A red sun rose above the dark mass of trees in the garden. Surrendering to sleep, she looked at the woman on the sideboard in the kitchen, turning all smiles in waltz time. Mom.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
V6000 Coprocessor Driver
Small animals of the night (3)
There are animals in me
Animals at my table in the middle of
the kitchen is the morning
We take coffee
We talk about everything and nothing
And all they can cling like
At the table that falls
Tomb Tomb
In the big hole in me Moi Moi
I say fear not
Pour me again
A little coffee talk
should speak much
There is no other way to allay fear
I say those
naked dream of fur
Because they are cold
Wind, rain, for them
And they have blue skin
They break everything they touch
And it's no awkwardness
And these are not dreams
is their fury animals naked
Like me blue And
Because hell is cold And everything is true
There is no other reason for our fall But
shhh ...
Shhh ... Once dropped
There is nothing to fear
remains some coffee? 
There are animals in me
Animals at my table in the middle of
the kitchen is the morning
We take coffee
We talk about everything and nothing
And all they can cling like
At the table that falls
Tomb Tomb
In the big hole in me Moi Moi
I say fear not
Pour me again
A little coffee talk
should speak much
There is no other way to allay fear
I say those
naked dream of fur
Because they are cold
Wind, rain, for them
And they have blue skin
They break everything they touch
And it's no awkwardness
And these are not dreams
is their fury animals naked
Like me blue And
Because hell is cold And everything is true
There is no other reason for our fall But
shhh ...
Shhh ... Once dropped
There is nothing to fear
remains some coffee?
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Yonex Recommended Stringing Tention
Indifference, patience, emergency
Brothers until the coming of the Lord, have patience. "(James 5:7)
Frost powdered herb of the field. Mist floor plate the winter sky. Oaks Forest still numb stretch their arms bare. As every morning, the Sun moves into the notch of the wooded hill and about to start his round brilliant.
"Why the consistency unflappable in the revolution of the stars? "Asks the viewer dazzled. "Why is the life she offered daily at the indifference of our little daily hassles? Why the awakening of nature provided each morning, the offering of a new day, the gift of another year? "
Because, since the famous deluge which spared Noah God's patience is resistant to all streams and all the rage. "I'll never destroy the earth" while he promised. He might have added: "The man will do it well alone."
And Peter explains: "He is patient to us: for He does not agree to let a few get lost, but he wants everyone to have time to repent" (2P 3 , 9).
Should dare say, in this time of Advent: "God expects us first that we decided to give it attention, and yet it was he who, against all odds, believes that Man does not disappoint the not. It is he who has faith! "A new day
thee already granted and a honeyed voice whispers to you:" Enjoy it, eat and drink, make the party, drunk up power, pleasures sated yourself ... Think of yourself! "Another voice
friendly but firm, you suggested:" This was so in the days of Noah ... and people do not doubted until the arrival of the flood ... so shall also the coming of the Son Man .... Therefore keep watch, because you do not know what day your Lord is coming "(Mt 24, 37)
So instead of waiting for tomorrow does surprise like a thief, offer your life this morning at "The dawn from on high that comes to visit us by illuminating our darkness (LC1)" and disruption of your indifference. It is urgent! Dear reader
NB the use of second person singular is not part of my familiarity moved but deliberate desire to place me among the recipients of these messages.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Can U Use Milk In A Keurig
The guys have no balls
And yes guys have no balls! It's a real truth, well beyond the fact that man is that man is man and he can be charming, affable and tender.
There are good men in every report, but either they are already married or is a member of our family or they are ... er ... ben precisely is the problem, we do not know where they are. Thus it remains only guys without balls.
Guys who you are seduce, to show you they are friendly, welcoming, they know how to listen, fun and the ultimate: gallant! Except ... Once placed in their beds, they are probably too clear that that is their testicles because after they promise you another appointment, a relationship with a day, although this relationship may not be a true love relationship, but simply a modern relationship of sex-type friend, but after a week of texting a word!
Radio Silence, not even an explanation, if ah forgiveness, while the next appointment was fixed the same day they will announce that they have caught the back and can not come! Or, this can happen anyone ... But when a month after we did not hear from this individual, he has not responded well to the message ensuring that he has left on his answering machine, following his untimely locking back ... I tell you this is not a blocking back, but a blocking balls.
And yes guys have no balls! It's a real truth, well beyond the fact that man is that man is man and he can be charming, affable and tender.
There are good men in every report, but either they are already married or is a member of our family or they are ... er ... ben precisely is the problem, we do not know where they are. Thus it remains only guys without balls.
Guys who you are seduce, to show you they are friendly, welcoming, they know how to listen, fun and the ultimate: gallant! Except ... Once placed in their beds, they are probably too clear that that is their testicles because after they promise you another appointment, a relationship with a day, although this relationship may not be a true love relationship, but simply a modern relationship of sex-type friend, but after a week of texting a word!
Radio Silence, not even an explanation, if ah forgiveness, while the next appointment was fixed the same day they will announce that they have caught the back and can not come! Or, this can happen anyone ... But when a month after we did not hear from this individual, he has not responded well to the message ensuring that he has left on his answering machine, following his untimely locking back ... I tell you this is not a blocking back, but a blocking balls.
The man who wants so virile, so strong (and yes it is the stronger sex!), Does not even have the courage to say "we had fun, but it is better remains there. "
Is it so difficult to say what you want, openly and honestly? This is not because we are women we can not understand that after mature thinking you do not want to continue this relationship.
Is it too complicated to tell the color from the outset rather than hold out something that will not?
Is it so difficult to say what you want, openly and honestly? This is not because we are women we can not understand that after mature thinking you do not want to continue this relationship.
Is it too complicated to tell the color from the outset rather than hold out something that will not?
you taking women for toys? Are we then to you, dear male, as pieces of meat, small things with which it is fun to play, to walk, for after discarding contaminated objects like tin and without interest?
is frankly pathetic. Have no consideration for the female, the same man that owns your dear mother, it's cowardice and disrespect total towards the second sex, the same man who allowed you to exist, we must not forget, gentlemen, that to a child it takes two, so if you are there it is thanks to women!
is frankly pathetic. Have no consideration for the female, the same man that owns your dear mother, it's cowardice and disrespect total towards the second sex, the same man who allowed you to exist, we must not forget, gentlemen, that to a child it takes two, so if you are there it is thanks to women!
How do you want after the women do not seek to supplant the man in all these areas? If the man took the woman as a human being in its own right and not as a commodity just good to wipe the kids, cooking and suck, understanding man / woman would certainly be better.
A word to salvation.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
12 Yearolds Mastrabating
Response to the comment left on my previous post
And the ax falls.
Where is the love while away from all this woman is fighting only for herself and her daughter and nobody takes him? She could not find her father she would be alone to thank you for his life.
She managed with brillo? But she missed out on his dreams. For the love she deserved wished she preferred to scientific rather than literary because he had to find a job quickly.
She never had the choice of his life and his studies.
It merely survive, still discriminated against, relayed to the rank of an idiot. For this authoritarian and a cousin part of the family she has no news since the announcement of her divorce and does not deign to answer his emails. Announcement that it was no longer seems to be welcome in the village familly. Today, this woman could be dead and buried that no one would know.
You say not to be proud of her. Why? Because she left a man who has flouted for years, who has handled and has become a figurehead? Which has certainly deceived many times and has his daughter before she leaves the marital home, her new friend?
You say not to be proud of her, because she found a father that everyone has denigrated for years, so that ultimately it is a great person who was able to take her in his arms tell her he loved her and then show it messes up his principles?
You say not to be proud of her because she finally understands what has been his life so far and decide not to suffer and live as a free woman as she has always wanted?
You say not to be proud of her because she dares to face his pain of never having been loved and trying to heal?
You say not to be proud of her because today it flourishes and finally learns who she is?
You say not to be proud of her, because now she is fighting for his life has meaning?
Little girl was fortunate to have a loving family, a father present and always there for you, tell me what that memory is selective? Tell me what is that to be proud of her she must deny this father who has always loved and that her dear aunt always denigrated. Should it be a martyr for the consideration of his family, a branch of the venerable family of his mother? Them who do not know a quarter of what she lived with her mother everyone loved, and yet everyone recognizes as "special". She lived 12 years with a depressed mother and crazy. Who lived locked in the dark all day. Sometimes delirious and told him stories. We will never know what she had but she was extremely intelligent she was unsuited to the company, only one has ever wanted to see what was going on and rescue him, his father first, before he fled the difficulty. The others ignored the reality.
Has she had the chance for a fifth of the love they have brought him? But what was this love? Far love is when you do not allow a child to develop as it should? Certainly there were the holidays, but what we show love to a child by welcoming a month and a half year at home? Who has really raised the question of what she felt and how she lived the loss of his mother and the fact of belonging to anything? No mother, no father ... how to build when you do not know its origins and much of its history is a tissue of lies?
Love was already give psychological support to the death of his mother. Had she had that she would not be here today.
Love was not to deny the family of his mother. Not harping endlessly that his grandfather was worse than his venerable uncle.
would love to reunite the family council to check that everything was fine, that his aunt as he had managed his property and to meet during its transition from bachelor to decide on the continuation of his studies and hear its opinion.
Love was not to denigrate it by saying she was not smart enough to succeed and it could be that competition laws.
Love would have been give him the chance to go to the FCC as it wanted in coming in second and not to tell her she did not have the capacity.
Love was fighting for her when her aunt prevented her from participating in extracurricular activities (like improvised theater) when she was talented.
would love to see it as being and not doing the bare minimum to feel good.
Love was taken from him since August and is now ready to show support in this ordeal is his divorce.
Love is not something that is given in small doses or to stop feeling guilty, it's a constant battle, he showed by actions and not empty words ditent annually .
Then know that this woman is proud of its roots, proud of those women who fought for ideals and survive. But it is not proud of his family or that of his mother or his father.
Today she is a woman extremely injured, suffering a lot but does everything to be free from pain and become free and accomplished woman. Today it is more than ever proud of her, proud of what it is and proud of what she accomplished.
But now his life is in Paris with his daughter and her future. She made a cross on the South which has never accepted as it was.
His door is always open to any family, be it his mother or his father, but it no longer expects anything of them and has nothing to prove to anybody if is to itself. 
And the ax falls.
Where is the love while away from all this woman is fighting only for herself and her daughter and nobody takes him? She could not find her father she would be alone to thank you for his life.
She managed with brillo? But she missed out on his dreams. For the love she deserved wished she preferred to scientific rather than literary because he had to find a job quickly.
She never had the choice of his life and his studies.
It merely survive, still discriminated against, relayed to the rank of an idiot. For this authoritarian and a cousin part of the family she has no news since the announcement of her divorce and does not deign to answer his emails. Announcement that it was no longer seems to be welcome in the village familly. Today, this woman could be dead and buried that no one would know.
You say not to be proud of her. Why? Because she left a man who has flouted for years, who has handled and has become a figurehead? Which has certainly deceived many times and has his daughter before she leaves the marital home, her new friend?
You say not to be proud of her, because she found a father that everyone has denigrated for years, so that ultimately it is a great person who was able to take her in his arms tell her he loved her and then show it messes up his principles?
You say not to be proud of her because she finally understands what has been his life so far and decide not to suffer and live as a free woman as she has always wanted?
You say not to be proud of her because she dares to face his pain of never having been loved and trying to heal?
You say not to be proud of her because today it flourishes and finally learns who she is?
You say not to be proud of her, because now she is fighting for his life has meaning?
Little girl was fortunate to have a loving family, a father present and always there for you, tell me what that memory is selective? Tell me what is that to be proud of her she must deny this father who has always loved and that her dear aunt always denigrated. Should it be a martyr for the consideration of his family, a branch of the venerable family of his mother? Them who do not know a quarter of what she lived with her mother everyone loved, and yet everyone recognizes as "special". She lived 12 years with a depressed mother and crazy. Who lived locked in the dark all day. Sometimes delirious and told him stories. We will never know what she had but she was extremely intelligent she was unsuited to the company, only one has ever wanted to see what was going on and rescue him, his father first, before he fled the difficulty. The others ignored the reality.
Has she had the chance for a fifth of the love they have brought him? But what was this love? Far love is when you do not allow a child to develop as it should? Certainly there were the holidays, but what we show love to a child by welcoming a month and a half year at home? Who has really raised the question of what she felt and how she lived the loss of his mother and the fact of belonging to anything? No mother, no father ... how to build when you do not know its origins and much of its history is a tissue of lies?
Love was already give psychological support to the death of his mother. Had she had that she would not be here today.
Love was not to deny the family of his mother. Not harping endlessly that his grandfather was worse than his venerable uncle.
would love to reunite the family council to check that everything was fine, that his aunt as he had managed his property and to meet during its transition from bachelor to decide on the continuation of his studies and hear its opinion.
Love was not to denigrate it by saying she was not smart enough to succeed and it could be that competition laws.
Love would have been give him the chance to go to the FCC as it wanted in coming in second and not to tell her she did not have the capacity.
Love was fighting for her when her aunt prevented her from participating in extracurricular activities (like improvised theater) when she was talented.
would love to see it as being and not doing the bare minimum to feel good.
Love was taken from him since August and is now ready to show support in this ordeal is his divorce.
Love is not something that is given in small doses or to stop feeling guilty, it's a constant battle, he showed by actions and not empty words ditent annually .
Then know that this woman is proud of its roots, proud of those women who fought for ideals and survive. But it is not proud of his family or that of his mother or his father.
Today she is a woman extremely injured, suffering a lot but does everything to be free from pain and become free and accomplished woman. Today it is more than ever proud of her, proud of what it is and proud of what she accomplished.
But now his life is in Paris with his daughter and her future. She made a cross on the South which has never accepted as it was.
His door is always open to any family, be it his mother or his father, but it no longer expects anything of them and has nothing to prove to anybody if is to itself.
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