home from work, knowing that sooner or later your car will go up in flames, and now I have discovered that maybe the parking brake does not work.
Spending 40 minutes in the house to find a parking lot, and I have an appointment at 11.00. I live behind the court every morning and surrogates of men and lawyers fucking come to the park under my building because they do not want to spend a euro in payment of parking meter before the court.
finish to park in a kind of sports field, now overrun by desperate as my other cars. It rained. I bogged down. I went down, spilled the car. A bitch has parked in front of the exit patanaio. Via Paris Dakar type jeep into a lake Puzzanghera type of savanna. Too bad that do not drive or as a Rangerover cippus calls.
The other day I was in tatters, without damage, a bottle of beer in the car. It 's always you?
I go home, and I am the old woman who says she has seen millions of parking under the house.
"Grandma better if you let me lose, and I do not think that Caracalla the mortgage of this house please do."
"Are you nervous, stop working, do you have to say, we will live in my meager pension ..." And part
the litany.
"no grandma, labor is the only beautiful thing that pushes me away from all that hate." She cries. I have colitis instead.
Yesterday at work, take a picture of the cunt. When he shaved a lot cola. Mando
the MMS B.
"But I did not configure any of the iPhone to the MMS. € eighteenth century in the hands of a phone that does the CEO in a multinational and not even know I'm sick of receiving mms phone.
"Send me an email that I receive."
"Make 'na beautiful thing, go to the monastery and then go to Google map and search for pussy, because for a while' is the only one I see. It goes mona, again. Maybe if you woke up and configured phone was better. "
I know, the fault is mine.
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