Homemade Vitamin C Lotion

Rubber Restart

I've always known that to live in the policy must be made a special paste, which is why it is said when I caught the bullfighters and the fifteen days are back in the square, "is that are made of sterner stuff. " As with politicians is the same. I believe that, rather than the bullfighters, politicians are like what is said of the children when they fall and nothing happens "is that children are made of rubber."

definitely think so, that politicians are made of rubber. So as a champion Rajoy resists the hosts that come from all sides. Since his party from the other, from a media, since the others being his mentor, which I want to vent ... I think that the baker gives Rajoy bar overcooked and the butcher cut him jabugo slices of fat. And have a party spokesman in Congress that appears with such paint.



If so the Congress, as they sing a different story.

And what of Felipe González, who swallowed trucks, carts, toads, and even the fist and rose, and now he still plays swallow all gossip related to her divorce after 39 years. Poor, and there is nothing left then. Neither Mrs. nor Alfonso, neither the group of tortilla. But Philip himself is rubber, and a very elastic. And deep down I always am glad to see me, because at least me back to better times in which politicians were interesting people who could speak well and sometimes you dazzled, at times in a session of Congress could be to entertaining, partly because their Lordships were and were not made looking pages on the internet sluts. In times where you thought would never live up to these people, not like now, where I am ashamed listening to people like Bibiana Aido. If the / models must be thin / skinny, if / deportistos the athletes and have to stay in shape ... why politicians may be a fool without a basic understanding of speech (or I do not know, common sense)

Although good, we still have Jose Bono, which is not to be a star of rhetoric, but next to what you'd think there is Cicero. And besides, Bono also holds its own, you have to see what bastards they are the party of their own. Bono is a total maker (a concept some TV which means you loose a lapidary stay dead), and I to I have finally become a fan, because you have to be very good for a week to three tracks: first, the nun (that Bono thought: "How I marvel to me?"), then the idea that you read the constitution (exciting), and read over the likes of Fernando Alonso, Alejandro Sanz and Iker Casillas. I have nothing against these three gentlemen (well what lie, I hate Alejandro Sanz), but hey, if you sit and listen to the constitution gives me downturn, I do not think it would be read by them. I hope at least they were also invited his super friends Concha Velasco and Raphael, which would give those other good atmosphere. And finally, to close this week glorious, a phrase that has dropped into "The Window" "God willing, I will die with the socialist card in his pocket." To say this being like Bono, you have to be rubber and have some eggs as espartero horse.



But if there is someone who is made of rubber, steel, asbestos or any material that is resistant Esperanza Aguirre. After what has now lived in Bombay, after the helicopter with Mariano (he broke two fingers, she went so piti, without a wrinkle in his suit jacket), after losing an election and end ganándolas, after of the boos that you are stuck in all the hospitals ... I'm beginning to think Aguirre is immortal, who became president, and also comes out at night armed with a sword Madrid looking for another cause you know ... "can only be one. "

How To Masterburate In Shower

Today (well, a while ago), I decided that I want to start. Not many aspects, which are now almost total in December and after a year-end has nothing to propose, but in one: I want to return to this blog. Yes, again. Yes, I know that my wishes last less than an input of the killers in tick tack ticket, but if one throws in the towel, and, without trying ...

Also, what the hell! I have said enough is enough of wasting time, to pass my time and a half or two hours of real life that I have each day after the endless hours of work watching TV because I can not help but basically it is already good die with envy watching the blog grow Walker. Again I

, because I'm reading to one week, and I hate to his perseverance, discipline, and their posts, every day is better.

Also, I am obliged. First because it is the only way to keep in touch with him, because although I have not written my emails, but I gave my two phone numbers (and call from the fixed leaves you free) does not call me, but know where I live does not come to see me and know my address but not send me letters. Not even to congratulate me on my thirty-sixth (what happens, do not say I have my studies and thirty-six) birthday, which was day 14.

But he loses, because if I try I could have brought things to the last post on St. Crispin, the patron saint of shoemakers. We could have talked to my uncle Julian, who is 89 years old and still in office, and it is not only putting the soles, but that makes shoes. My uncle Julian has a very small shop, which came every year when we went to The Pola to buy and see the family who lived there. And are being less than the 13 brothers of my mother, but there is Julian's uncle, in his small workshop, where there was only a very small table, and everything had a layer of dust as four inches, made of rubber remains the Phillies or tapas. At the sides, dozens of shoes mixed, some with the appearance of having been neglected by his owner. Boots with leather pumps, wearing clogs to boots, sandals with stilettos ... and upon entering, two half-naked ladies watching from two calendars.

Yet Julian's uncle has never had the look of an old green look the ladies. It is very often silent, a little olive skin, the branch of the "mayors" brown, not the blanquita skin, eyes little ones, like my mother, but very clearly green.

When I went there, smelled of rubber and glue, and Uncle Julian was watching you from below, with goggles attached to the tip of the nose, hands full of glue for shoes and hand the blade so thin and long with which cut off the excess of heels repaired almost jogging through the streets paved in town. Now long ago I do not see in the shop, because it just goes a ratillo each day (for fun), but I always remember my mother's phrase Every time I went, "Julian, what pig you are, if the pains came in here would give something." Was his wife Dolores, a beautiful Andalusian guess I had misplaced all those dry Castilian my mother's family (starting with my mother) and that gives me that they dislike. The legend said that if you went home you had to walk on chamois, not to stain the floor. If that legend is true, the pains would have given something, no doubt. But I liked it. My mother spoke with him and I, meanwhile, with a finger, he traced a line between that layer of rubber dust and debris several inches, as opening a road. Sometimes I approached and blew gently and saw everything that was under so much dirt.

Julian Maybe the guy was not very clean in the care of his shop, but I remember I saw him deliver the shoes and also perfectly groomed, clean and shiny like patent leather. And it is a generous man. Did not care to teach my father a little trade and thus for years, and as we lived many miles from Uncle Julian, we have arranged for all shoes (even if used to crush my mother and my sister about how bad tread), in addition, where now you find it in La Pola, always want you to take with him wine, and always wants to pay, while I question forever "And if you work on TV, why do not you see?"

And Uncle Julian has a rich history over, but I do not remember well because you told him it was my sister, but I know Uncle Julian of very young handing the mail (or something telegraph) with a bicycle and bicycle that almost cost him his life during the war. You were sentenced to death but eventually commuted the prison.

I've never asked if he prayed to St. Crispin, but I get that it was more of the prints of naked ladies of the saints.

That and more could have told the passer, with which many I have sometimes spoken of shoes, street soccer, loves, our parents old people, life ... but now seems to only talk to those who have a blog on exercise. " Well here I am again, at least to congratulate me on my thirty-sixth birthday, even to bug me with the results of Madrid.



In this photo, made in Turo Parc in May, only sees me, but guess this man beside me is the Walker, he does not want out in the photos because he fears that steal the soul. Just do not call because he fears that steals your voice, who knows, it is an older man, and old begin to have hobbies.

So here I am, starting over, and it really, because a change of location of the files, all those posts I've been leaving half to finish them later, have vanished like dust and rubber debris blowing in the workshop when Uncle Julian. Before yesterday

Vocabuly Level C Unit 8

related spam

I have a question .. how many that I do daily that are so important and mind boggling blogging bowuejrlksj

and is ...
people of junk mail you want to enlarge my penis unexistant really make money?

if so, why Are not They Already Rich? as those who guess the fortune?

because interference, you make me so funny to hear a conversation inadvertently, to the drama, coming to me nothing more and nothing less than bright future for our friend orange?

why, Mr. viewer, not eating more fruit, or buy seven or toby diddy or eating cookies cut in the comfort of your home?

persecute me, flood my-junk-mail. that put him there? Why check my junk mail? Would you erase me? Why Should this hurt me in ANY WAY?

now I'm equipped with a bonsai that is still land seed and I'm happier than yesterday.

now thanked him who gives me everything I can sleep peacefully because I desentiendo.

now that we attack the root phobias and declare us incompetent and that lights.