Rockstar Energy Corset

Men and the elusive concept of cleaning

Week 1

And 'Saturday morning and drag me like a zombie in my pajamas pink on the couch. They are feverish and very [@##@t just because they are feverish on Saturday morning. My bones ache, I have zero desire to swallow anything and in two words I'm shit.
My fantastic boyfriend (hereafter FF) approaches me cheering: "Yay , now that you're sick jump cleaning! .
And I said "no, love. The correct exclamation would have been: my love, since you're sick you're also lying on the couch and rest, which I'll clean house."
how it ends: I clean the whole house while he's feverish workout boxing.

Week 2

Weekend in the mountains with in-laws to fix some issues. It 'Friday afternoon. My FF approaches me with a festive uscendosene " Yay! This weekend we will not skip the cleaning! .
how it ends: of course forces him under threat of unspeakable torture to give me a hand to clean the house Friday night. Since we work all day throughout the week, there on Sunday evening to come home after two days of gardening and arrangement should also think about tiles and clean, is not it?

Week 3

Weekend in the mountains with friends. E 'Thursday and my FF approaches me fearful, looking from Puss in Boots " non è che domani sera mi tocca pulire, vero? ".
Come va a finire: mi faccio prendere dalla compassione, prendo un pomeriggio di permesso dal lavoro e pulisco casa, faccio il bucato, preparo le valigie e la cena che dovrò portare in montagna il giorno successivo, da mangiare con gli amici. Canederli e crostata di zucchine, nientemeno.

Morale della vicenda: se lasciato a se stesso, mio FF non avrebbe pulito casa, tazza del water compresa, per almeno tre settimane di fila .

Il caso del collega

Pausa pranzo. Un collega si ricorda, a voce alta, di togliere la borsa da palestra dal bagagliaio e di portarla in casa. I meddle in the monologue, saying that yes, indeed dirty laundry should be washed, because if it remains closed for a day bag in danger of turning into a stain of eternal stench in miniature. The colleague replied that I forget that bag full of towels soaked with sweat in the trunk now THREE MONTHS. At that point I notice that the opening of the bag could jeopardize the survival of a ecosystem with intelligent life forms are coming in the Iron Age.

Men do not see the dirt, there is little to be done. For them is the same as walking barefoot in a green valley or on a bed of toast crumbs. They do not realize if in a group Friends of creating a vacuum around wearing a t-shirt survived a full week of workouts, no.
If you import something of their cleaning, they would say "I'm going to take a shower" and not "going to give me a rinsed .
What then, have you ever seen a man wash his feet in the shower? And I intend to wash his feet to put the soap on your hands and wipe the right foot and left in a conscious way? Macchi. The feet of men, literally, it is rinsed. At most locations are fleeting soap from leaking down from the rest of the body. Ultimately foot of men do not wash . Mai . There
difference between cleaning the surroundings and the personal. I do not think it is laziness or indifference, but rather a very serious form of selective blindness. Or are we women to suffer from a serious form of super-sight can also locate the hidden germs? I think not. I do not think the crumbs on the floor to be a review.
The phenomenon is further proof of the fact that both sexes are necessary for the survival of the species. Not so much a matter of procreation, but because the man without the woman would have died of cold, yet the glow of human history.

Staff Writer

Why Does Urine Test For Pregnancy Fail?

a publisher to make me happy!

As loyal readers, as supporters of the initiative and officers of the undersigned, know that I am giving you a notice before my mother

At 10:02 am this morning the phone rang on his desk, signaling an email arriving in my personal mail. I read in disbelief the message and from that moment I can not speak, I can not breathe, I can not blink and imagine if I can proceed with the work. The very idea of \u200b\u200bbeing able to write a word of the project that I was drawing a second reading before the stakes are pure fiction. I do not know if you've ever had a situation Generally, it is as if someone had just announced to have won the Nobel Peace Prize, or that my invention has eradicated hunger in the world too unreal to believe, is not it?
The first coherent thought that I was able to articulate was, " if someone sends me a proposal for publication, I wrote a shit: Yay! .
I have not the slightest idea what to make of this proposal for publication, I swear. I did not really think about it for clarity. If you go out the window I saw a green donkey wheel, right now I might consider it a normal thing.
For now I just know it's a great feeling, fantastic, that there are no adjectives to describe what I'm trying. I think I would prefer at this time also an invitation to dinner by Keanu Reeves, sexy idol since high school. It 's all magic, are surrounded by fairies and elves who smile at me and even today the CEO seems to me the most adorable person in the world. Cialbella that I ate for breakfast was full of hallucinogens? Is this all a dream?
No, I'm quite certain that everything is true and that the email really exists: my dream to publish the novel I wrote you could really translate into reality, and if I think I could cry for joy, here, at my desk before the whole office, in a second fanificando all efforts in recent weeks to look like a credible leader.

For now I'm focusing on matters of an ... like saying logistics. I have already started to draw up a priority list for publication:

1. Enter into a 40 by 10 days at any cost.
2. Attend at least one presentation letteraraia by the end of the week to see what the authors say on these occasions.
3. Began to think of appropriate presentation of the novel and official meetings.
4. Prepare business cards with which to promote the book and the blog (which, as you'll see, are closely linked together using a common underlying logic).
5. Start to stretch the thanks to be included in the book (I have the impression to be thanked in the longer history of literature).
6. Honestly now I can not think of a sixth point.

Staff Writer

Entrance In Ice Skating In Moa

Women - Cape hymn to the courage and DETERMINAT ion

E 'with great pleasure (and delay, sob!) That place this beautiful email, sent to me by Mariella in response to the post in which I have given vent to my difficult to put myself in the shoes of a leader (go to post " the solitude of the head").

"Any man can make you feel compelled to explain who you are, is wrong." I might add, from the top ten in the heel of my "head only" that: "Any partner makes you feel compelled to explain who you are, is wrong. "Who does not recognize you as leader, when it is under everybody's eyes that you have made sacrifices, ideas, projects, risks, responsibilities and sleepless nights burning ... is wrong.
Many of us, women and leaders, continue to go on thinking he had the right to enjoy the moment. The work is always considered a duty and a respect for law. Assegnamoci the duty to enforce. Concediamoci the right to work peacefully. Are we or are not those before going to the command of a team wore jogging shoes and walked down the steepest hills, ravines and slipped in there mum raised, bruised, to start all again? We are and have always been, first, managers of ourselves. And if it is true that there is only one command of a boat captain, is also true that all operations can only be performed by the crew. The men dozing in the stern, they are left on the quay. The key thing is to feel able to withstand whatever you have time to discover and move forward in research. Women
Cape I wish (and hope) to wake up every morning stronger than the first day, to smile in the mirror, feel beautiful, but also to cry and find comfort in you, with courage, heart Holdin and the soul with renewed vigor and strength.
TaccoDieci Hello!

place that email, as strong as smart, because, fortunately, although I feel sorry for Mariella, I realized that I'm not the only one to find that the position of the head, especially women and recently arrived, is difficult. I did some research on the internet and unfortunately I have seen that women consider the heads of women bitches and snakes (all terms actually used, I swear!).
forward with a proposal: we could not begin to divide the leaders in inbound and assholes and competent human beings, rather than by gender? I'm sorry if you have a boss frustrated woman who pours his malaise on the team, but I think that there is no Women's pair - frustration. Those who believe that there is such a combination is like one of those men that when a woman gets angry liquid his outburst saying "the sky will be ...".

Perhaps the chief difference between a "real" and a "fake" just do it the grit, determination, not to be cut down from these positions as acidic as easy, moving forward with confidence and security in their potential. Why after all of them, or at least most of them, says Mariella have made sacrifices to get where I am, even if these sacrifices are often taken for granted (such as is taken for granted that the head is always the first to arrive and last to leave). I know that millions of people make sacrifices and they have nothing in return except a handful of flies, but is this to be unfair, not the recognition of the efforts of some, and do not see why those who have been approved to be branded a priori as a "bitch" or "Viper".
then I would say that women have enough problems at work without there also put to make war between us. Indeed, perhaps women have so many problems at work and suffer so much injustice because we are not united .

Staff Writer

Dog Has Pink Mucus In Her Feces

Campaign for the Protection of small gestures of affection

"My girlfriend and I we do not presents for Valentine's Day, because mica is no need to specify a party to get us a nice gesture, no? And then Valentine's Day has become just a commercial holiday. Me, my girlfriend, I prefer to make a surprise when it does not expect. So, any day ... "

Too bad that that day never comes .

Because that day will come when modern man does not have the head for his career, the realization of their dreams, changing light bulbs, the meetings of condominium, shopping, the accounts to bring back ... Both his wife / girlfriend / girlfriend is always there, right? And if you love you should understand. If he loves you must understand that, in all millemila that make up the second day, there is not one in which your thoughts go to her. Just not possible. You might also expect that, coming home at night, to pamper yourself a bit ', because you have worked, she will accept magnificence making you sit in front of the tv till it ends to prepare your favorite dish, because basically you deserve a bit' of healthy sleep, with no stress to you that nonsense, right?

For men, women are feminists who demand attention gassed to avoid like the plague, they exploit the poor with absurd claims: holidays in the Caribbean and diamond rings as big as onions.

will tell you a secret: carbonated feminists do exist, but are a tiny minority of women in the landscape and are usually equipped with special radar that points to the bank accounts of six zeros. Normal men can therefore be considered safe. Most women, including the absurd claim that advances, requires a very different kind of attention: unexpected a caress, a kiss of a sudden, a bottle of good wine and a toast for no reason .

operation cost € 10. Time invested: 10 minutes. You say, we can do?

It is inconceivable that we forget these small details, that throughout a whole day there is not time for that. Without these healthy and genuine gestures of affection everything becomes banal and mechanical. Without these actions, there is no difference between a girlfriend / wife / girlfriend of the heart and a caregiver. The caregiver has the disadvantage of demanding a salary, but in return does not break balls begging to be kissed or caressed.

Every man should seriously make this assessment and weigh according to their own personal balance the pros and cons of each situation, before passing a hysterical woman who lives senseless rights.

If eventually you decide to stay with a girl, it must be done consciously, knowing that they must accept a complete package . For years women have made mistakes, believing they can change a man, because now people should blindly committing the same mistake? The package woman, "ahivoi, includes headache, in-laws and demands attention.

If all this is stupid I do not know honestly what to do about it. On the other hand seems to us women so stupid that there is one who goes into a frenzy for twelve men in shorts running after the same ball every weekend, instead of taking matters in hand and appear in a Super Tele head, but we accept . Also seems to us that you feel stupid right to loiter in the evening, waiting dinner, when we know that both men and women have worked all day. Although it seems silly to us that the average person just to warm up before a failure or a stolen car. Although it seems silly to us to reach a certain age still think that there is a goblin to find underwear that does the laundry in the drawer magically washed every week. Even many of us seem stupid male attitudes, but there we go on with stoicism and avoid planting a mess every time. It 'so hard to do the same?

Apparently yes. The male mind, in its unsettling logic, there seems to be designed to "accommodate".

Invitation only men to listen to not pathetic excuses to justify this. say you do not feel like it, that are idiots and useless gestures of affection that women are hormonal, but sooner or later you'll get a surprise when we least expect it. Do not say that if there sorprendeste daily surges of your attention would eventually become taken for granted, because I assure you that should go to the daily surprises geological ages before a woman of sound mind puffs in front of the millionth bouquet of flowers.

found itself not an apology, because they offend our and your intelligence, when in an evening with friends laughing and pull out the argument we all pretend to believe.

Staff Writer

Bmi To Look Good In A Bikini

"As you know, the office has always had a training manager. Now I have identified the person responsible for the preparation: For each question you should refer to her, who will talk with me and that will be updated everything that happens in every circumstance. "

When the CEO spoke these words during a recent meeting, taking impreparatissima, at times I choked on a candy that I held in my mouth just to hang out. A dozen eyes were turned grim last arrived, then that would be me (literally) high for all to see a step up compared to the common mass of poor losers. I might as well attack me that the CEO of a target on his back and opened the hunting season .

At that moment I heard a chilling voice asking me if I was ready to take such responsibility. "Sure, why not? It 's a challenge and I like challenges," I listened to the one of those phrases taken from the manual "Believe in yourself." It makes you think that going against traffic during highway a bicycle in a snowstorm could pose some challenge, but I'm not that stupid to be taken into account.

But I did not felt, cowardly, conflict with the AD. In a sense, however, the matter of the challenge is also true: I have always worked in teams, but I never had the responsibility of organizing the work of others. It usually happens that someone would organize the work of a group of losers, in which I was there. I feel as if I had been admitted behind the scenes and this, after all, now I like it. These early days as a leader, however, have taught me one important lesson: the head is only . This in light of some major design considerations.

First the head can not , just as it can not be a parent, friend be . A leader can be estimated, may even come to feel affection for their colleagues and defend them before the CEO even when they are dead wrong, but can not really be a friend. This is because sooner or later end up in some way betraying that friendship or to lose the leadership, credibility. How can he be a credible leader with whom we do a drink and tell you dirty jokes until later? Or a leader who keeps a blog in which all rose to 99% of the time talking about nonsense?

Second the leader is never wrong . Humans make mistakes and this time is read the sign of their inherent humanity. When the boss is an asshole wrong or incompetent that has been put there as a servant of power, just to eat bread for treason. If the head screwed it up, no one dares to cover, in a kind of silent agreement that is expressed in the motto " previously established by the power! .

Similarly the positive gestures of the head are forgotten over time of a blink of an eye, the negative ones remain etched in stone forever and ever.

The Head is ultimately and by its very nature, an asshole that needs wary. With the head can not be casual, do not go to have a drink, let alone one goes to the chief's house to eat pizza. When you're my head, everything you say could be used against you in court. Would you like in the distant future to start a family? Better not say when the head is, because you could, from day to day and in a totally unreasonable, be invited to pass orders to a worker you are watching more of you young and single, emerging as if by magic from who knows where.

At best, the head is born, and if your boss is a lucky, the office will tell him " could go worse." For this to happen, the leader must be particularly good, and I mean very good technical skills with a monster of a talent unequaled in human relationships. Besides you're never wrong, the head must, in other words, finding the time to listen to people, especially when they are whining, motivate them (even in circumstances in which they actually find positive sides to an art), check the individual workloads The answer to the most unexpected contingencies that occur on his desk when others do not know how to get out alive, trying to mediate to keep a cool head when the CEO goes around the corridor screaming hysterically that wants to cut heads.

However the go things, the head will never be enough, however . Quite what? Quite "everything". Yes, because as the head is exceptional, there will always be someone in the office, in the eyes of someone else or himself, he would have deserved more than that position of leadership.

I concluded that I should attend a course in leadership. For now the weather is good and, apart from some minor disagreement, I can maintain a balance. However, I have the impression that some bomb is about to burst when turned their backs. It is normal to live with this anxiety? What makes the difference between a leader and someone who is not to be especially strong nerves and a face of marble? Everything can be, as far as I know.

Staff Writer

Milena Velba Nadine Jansen Blog

The Loneliness of the Chief publisher

Yesterday I took advantage of the day without a job (if we exclude the eight emails received by the office) and finally begin to give effect to spread to the world of my first novel.
I got up early, when my wonderful boy, after measuring the fever for the last time because deep down we had hoped, he went to work and I finished writing the synopsis plus a short presentation of myself. The presentation, by failing to I published anything of nothing but a piece in an anthology that I do not know whether it is still sold on the Internet, it's really short (I do not even bother to report it, since those sales, if ever there were, I have never received a cent on the cover and I also have the name wrong).
Then I started making phone calls, armed with Excel spreadsheet to track all the terrible job of marketing it intended to do. It is not pretended that
mica red carpet and a limo to the house, so to speak, but I never expected that someone even refused my manuscript. As my mother always told me, " how can you say you do not like if you do not taste even a bit? . "But it is exactly what happened. Typescript rejected the first two calls.

call 1 - Hello, I'm an author. What steps should I follow to submit an unpublished manuscript?

- What kind owns the material?

- It 's a novel female.

- So young adolescents?

- No, say it is more gender-Sophie Kinsella ...

- Mmm ... How many pages?

- about 220 folders.

- Ah. Here, for this kind we take into account only foreign authors or already famous . She has already published something?

- Really ...

- I'm sorry, try to check back next year .

- Next year? But we are in February!

- Yes, I know. I'm sorry. Or suggest you start with some lesser-known publishing house .

Phone Call 2 - Hello, I'm an author. What steps should I follow to submit an unpublished manuscript?

- I'm sorry, but for the next two years we do not accept unpublished material in evaluation.

At that moment my body felt an uncontrollable need for Coke and frozen pizzas, which I immediately devoured furiously in front of the monitor. Only after the last bite I realized I had just ten in the morning and it was emotional eating.

Then things went much better, because I stopped call. I simply read the instructions for sending unpublished material on the sites of publishers and, looking good and dial any phone numbers, I managed to send all at less than 11 publishers.
A publisher has already answered me. Yeah, to ask, if I were not prepared to pay the publication of my own pocket, to say it now, to avoid fatigue when reading the novel .
All in all, yesterday my life has given us a great lesson: to become a writer you must get used to fish in the face.

Staff Writer

Funeral Thank You Minister

From provincialotta hello to stylish with a click

This award from Cosmo Girl could not come at a better time, or worse, depending on the perspective from which you look at my present condition. Just to let you all soon, since Friday afternoon, I am stuck on the sofa with a high fever. The fact that 37,000 other Venetians are statistically sharing my luck does not console. If it were true that "bad policy, half joy," now I should at least dance around half naked and drunk on a table with a Mojito in hand with delight. Of course not.
Only suckers fall ill on Friday afternoon , fighting all weekend and managed to scrounge up a couple of days of illness at the beginning of next week.
For this reason, the prize we really wanted to lift morale on the ground and raised with a shroud of Kleenex: thank you very much, Cosmo Girl! But mainly thanks for the nice words you had for me in your blog. You called me "writer" and have greatly flattered my already enormous ego, but above you said you felt a certain affinity between us. This would not make me more pleasure, since I really admire your style sharp, ironic and never granted, so much so that I could be her sister separated at birth by Candace Bushnell (by the way, your blog gave me a desire crazy to see Sex and the City). And now we come to the
Pizzos or seven of my secrets untold scandalous private life.

1) Once, when I was about 20 years (ie not just a lifetime ago, mind you) a friend accused me of being out with her boyfriend, a fantastic drummer. Negai to death, but ... was true. All true. Saw then what was the end of our friendship with her shortly afterwards, for other reasons, I stopped from time to repent of that sordid action. I firmly believe that it was worth it: he was simply beautiful and there are trains that do not go often in life. And then, try to understand me, I had just been discharged after four years for a framer thighs secular natural that I was convinced that hypocrisy was the key to success, no?

2) I'm addicted to good order and cleanliness. My brother calls me "our lady of the flap" because in practice compel anyone who comes into our house to wear them when crossing the threshold. And what the heck, I'm a working woman, I can not stand to go the mop every single day ...

3) I can not stand women who feel lost without the prospect of a career. I know women who would prefer an arm amputated rather than not to work and stay home to care for a family. But I'd give an arm because one salary was enough to raise many children calm and to avoid, one day, the Babysitter send me via webcam in the office the first word of my son.

4) I can not accept that my body changes. One day I consider the fine lines of expression and that damn hair as white as a hallmark of wisdom and (why not?) Class, the day after the botox I would swell to bursting. But I will not, rest assured, because I know that my boyfriend, much wiser than me, would flee in horror at seeing his heels like a taut balloon. And of course I change my mind a second later and I would suck.

5) I am a clinical case of lunatic. They are perfectly capable of waking up pissed as a hyena, let me pass the moon with brioche and cappuccino, send all to hell before lunch and apologized in tears within a few hours, move me after dinner and watching Casper crush my boyfriend under the covers at bedtime taken dall'inspiegabile anguish of being able to lose at any moment. In case you're wondering: no, it's not fun living like this.

6) Secrets bother me, especially when I showdown. I have never been impregnable as Fort Knox and I never claimed to be, then it irritates me a lot when someone tells me a secret begging me not to disclose it. Anyone who knows me knows that I am at least a little bit a sieve, that just can not bring myself to do the dumb, and then tell you a secret that will inevitably be on everyone's lips means deliberately want me to do the figure of the bitch.

7) amazing things happen to me every day and live coincidences worthy of a screenplay. We have such a friend of mine who accidentally starts a call while you are having sex: who do you think the phone will ring on the other side? Yes, me. And let's assume changing jobs: Who would be my nice (really, not ironic!) Opposite of your desk? One of the best friends of my ex, of course (always one of the framers, see point 1). And so on. Even this is nice.

And now, drum roll ... Let's see who gets the prize in my turn. I state that I do not believe I get to 10 blogs, because (this is my eighth unspeakable secret, a kind of pointless bonus track) are very selective. I regret not being able to reassign to Cosmo Girl, because if the meritebbe everything.

- The princess thought the friend of all time, Sabrina. Ironic, funny and capable of seeing everything from incredible prospects.
- Beer and feelings, because since I know beer is a kind of drug I can not do without. And she has a gift that I have: to paint a whole picture in ten lines.
- The key noise Elisa, because she is a talented writer and I hope that you find in all creative fields in which it operates, the satisfaction he deserves.
- The World of Puppy and friends, the friendly pea green of the Bohemian. My dear friend has the fairy hands: turn everything into magic and his creations are incredible. For example I have a pair of earrings made by her that inevitably elicit compliments whenever I wear them.
- But, really? A blog that makes me coats with laughter, but he says the real truth that few women would dare to say. A splendid example of a blog to share useful and understand that "no one is born learned."

Well, what are you still doing here? Up, power: reading!

Staff Writer

Manhattan 460668 Web Camera Software

steps

walk the streets empty, the blinds drawn, lights out, closed the windows and balconies. Shops like cages cry from behind dusty windows that bring misery day after day to the center. I think one day swallow whole.
Trouble doubles with my feet and agile four-legged and thin for a puppy that follows a single track: my. If he knew that I do not know where I'm wearing, and I choose the path running from myself and from my solitude, perhaps you would stop, or change direction.
observe more and more uniform soil slips under my eyes absent, and the tops of buildings, which are illuminated by the sun by day and by the silence I always seem higher, unreachable. I do small and slips away into the darkness without a shadow of the arcades. Hands in his pockets rummaged through the sand as the uncertainties that abound in the mind.
suddenly a girl comes out ahead of me, challenging each other with a glance in my direction. I reassure her slender figure for the time necessary to cross, then go back and alien remains just my corner of the eye to observe it as a ship moves away. Castaway in this vast ocean of solitude deaf to the rhythm of my footsteps asymmetrical. Trouble every now and send messages of urine on the walls, impulses to be found, because some dog mangy can reach him by collecting the wake of his move confused, messy. The time of the closing of the bar can not stand, people in the fleet is to be vomited back door. Swept away after being squeezed hard sweat of pecuniary and soon vanished. Contrails alcohol vanishes into thin air, leaving a furrow in my nostrils. Inevitably, the smell is transformed into that of sex and badly worn in cold rooms, aseptic some cheap hotel in the suburbs. Neon lights bouncing in my mind with no way out. I cling to the lifeless face of the collar and get a move on. I want to run away from this wind of death blows out the candles dim that dies in me. Looking, looking a bit non-stop 'to rekindle the wood, I seek in the eyes of a girl who does not know yet, and that this gives me hope. I'd settle for just a little 'paper, which burns strong, but fast, stretching for a while the agony and anguish of those who live in hardship, but for anything in the world would go silent.
From the top, just behind a street corner, I refer them to the noise of a party. I stop in a few seconds, the nose. I ride a big puffs cigarette smoke in smokers soul. Then the stasis is interrupted herself, and rimprendo the way, made my steps trying in vain to cross with those of someone like me, are fed up.

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closed door

I get up in the morning without being able to rearrange ideas. The sun is out by a deafening noise and there is no switch that can turn it off. I always get out of bed with the usual face. The gestures used to take me to wash, perfume, clothes. The reason why the world is today, will face trouble. If it were not him, and his threat of cagarmi in the world would not come home even see it. When I go down the stairs I always hope not to meet any tenant downstairs. Walk with his head down like a maniac smoking among high school students in miniskirts laughter, comments, and shooting straight. I almost always different ways to move from one part of the city, but always I stop in front of the car park of Via Dante. A beggar them is always steady with his misery. The step hugging and smiling for the first time. Not that there's nothing funny about him is that the desperate souls have a different solidarity. Do not try to paint reality with a new color, simply smile.
spend hours unnecessarily concentrated reading useless books that I read out of duty. I repeat myself for a little, and then I can fly away. But the hope of a different life is gradually diluted over the years that bitter show my face. I think back to past loves, I do it with tenderness, compassion, anger. Whenever a loss, a wound suffered as desired or not ever heal.
The voices of passers-by are always so full of security, of excitement that I sink deeper into the solitude of listening.
I speak little, less and less, and I always look for a partner that does not at least shake his head too empty and the little that I have inside. But the enthusiasm of easy dialogue fades to every comma, every time when I catch my breath and start over with the rest of the sentence. That is not my speeches that seem only half are. This evening I found Claudia
online, I asked her if she wanted to see us for a few minutes.
"Step in your home with Trouble"
"Only five minutes but I have to study"
"Fastest" I say.
Claudia has lost more than my soul, but rejects any arm's length because it must have distance too. Often refuses even mine. I can not communicate what I feel, the affinity that should unite us more and vanishes in a short silence, and the attraction I feel for you continues to be suppressed forever.
I am convinced that tonight will be different, I leave home to many of my attitudes, my personality, I will go to her naked as I am with my fears, but especially with this desperate need for affection that only those with real soul torn can give. Trouble jumps off the couch, took the ball in her mouth and wags his tail. Poor helpless victim of my Paturnie. With a smile I hope to launch the street, walk the road that quickly separates me from seeing it. I attack this conversation as if the only goal in my life. And after all it is. Supero desolate streets and traffic jams of people scattered. Jump loneliness as dead branches and run towards that bell. A
5 steps from the door of Claudia I get a message, you are.
"Forgive me, but I have a really bad night, we do another day?"
"I'm in your house" I am writing. "Ok, one more time" in the second message.
I am in front of that door, and what little strength that I did get from them is gone in a second, 5 steps away from hope. I do not know how to find the strength to go home. Trouble wags, who just wants to throw the ball.