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Musiquita and certainties Unexpected

My visit this year has given me several things: 1 .-

Satisfaction because I've enjoyed it.

2 .- Fatigue, because I had a very good and is no longer for these jogging Cochineros without taking some form previously. But spend your life in front of the computer, even to eat in front of it (as I have spent the last five days on the job) is not the best way, obviously.

3 .- And many certainties, which are: a.

- that again next year. B.

- that mobile phone companies earn a lot of money to these events. I think I sent about 30 messages and received some more. C.

Sometimes I go very pretty in the photos. D.

- What a pleasure go with friends, but you'll quickly send them to hell when you do not want to get between the Mogollon.

e. - I love my friends, but from here, from here I say to you next year if you want to see pictures, you bring the camera you sons of bitches! Of course, there are photos for those who want gossip.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/70531848 @ N00 /

f. - That two tits throw more than two carts. The sayings are still valid. A Risingson, Carlitos, a Churchill , my Churchill, that I recommend the Blue House, which calls me and tells me compliments, which I send mobile messages with things like this: "And another time I am walking alone by the Quarries and the first thing I remember is you. "A Churchill came up with this picture hanging I did Friday at the Summercase and the result is next to the picture, looking at the number of visits and then compared with those with other photos. With the porn on the internet and there are still people looking cleavage!

Within hours I'm going to Benicassim FIB I'm going to throw to, sing, let me scream and there are many bad feelings that have fed this week I do not want to live anymore.'ll be back with more fatigue and new pictures to come up with a notch in my counter Rufus Wainwright concert (and there are six), with satisfaction and maybe more certainty. But this time I cover the neckline. What will they think of me?

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Downhill

This is how I go from today. I rolled downhill, as the tango.

When I was little and had to study, checker pattern and I left everything for the final. When I had to pick up my room waiting for my mother would howl in his ear looking for a little order into the chaos of old papers, books and pens. When I had to wash, eat a little slower than it already was usually (and do), waiting for the attack came forward with my mother and my sister, true champions of the MAS (not Arthur, but I get) Movement Desktop Anti.

Needless to say I was ashamed, of course. I felt guilty, because also in the case of the room, I only knew what to expect leading up to the late Bronze Age, to the despair of my mother, who watched the room and I said, beside himself: "If you're a eleven pig tits! "I do not know why eleven sows tits (I have only two, though beautiful, I'm not going to plan whore" Total ") are more sluts than those with less boobs and see if I'm asking my mother.

When the rain came, and while trying to bring order to the room, I felt terrible. Frustrated with guilt and thinking that was good for nothing. But then I saw my sister, who is ready, he got up and scrubbing, sweeping, studying when it came, not out there ... And I saw my brother and my sister, who, like they were married, which had amounted at work thanks to his efforts and that they were responsible people. Then he smiled and thought that the key to everything was age. She said, "When you grow up you will be so, because all older people scrubs, and work and collect, and eat vegetables and fish"

I have thought until very recently, when the DNI told me very seriously that I was grown. And then I realized that this will not to go it alone. I have almost 35 years and I still can not be ordered, I am still studying, I still want to scrub, I eat few vegetables and fish, slow months in order and when I decided to do the same thing 14 years ago, moving things around. On the contrary, my brothers and my sister are still the same. They are willing, responsible and do what they should do.

So I'm going down. Because I am not responsible and I have tickets for the Summercase and IFF, accounting for two grueling weeks of continuous activity for a twentysomething, but more for a mid-thirties who is not fit. I'm going down because I sleep weeks minimum. I'm going down because I have no accommodation Benicàssim and I have to sleep in a tent. I'm going down because I have no holidays and I work to get tired rather than rest. And I'm going down because it would take hours sleep and I'm here writing.

But oddly enough, there is a good thing going downhill, that is giving you the fresh wind, that comes quickly to the end and that the soil is not happening.

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De colores Celebrations

Today I put a light colored shirt. A very Suavito gray with black and yellow polka dots. With plenty of cleavage, of course, but was more than I thought and I have not put the required badges of The Kooks or Rufus Wainwright, so I've been teaching all day Pecham, which has paid me to take a piropazo Nuria telling me he did not have a groove, so that the heads praise my bra from H & M and to continue calling Mariano "breasts." But this gray

clarito has caused a furor, not so much cleavage, but by the difference in tone compared to my normal clothing. When you're fat, and I'm fat, you start to create your own dress code, you just knowing you more tricks than the designer of "Vogue." Any clothing, any style does not move around your tastes and preferences, always moves around your physique. No matter if I died with envy (not so much taste, but by the attitude) while walking by Triana in Las Palmas street and saw these big boys like sausages stuffed into a top and trousers caderero, I've always been clear. Things never too crowded (although it is impossible because almost always get things tight), never of prints, never show too much (the neck is another thing), and throw in black, because black always makes you thinner.

So my wardrobe consists almost entirely of black clothing, except some jeans, shoes, and a few dress shirts that I wear because my mother said to me very fat, and if others have told me helps me "trust me, it's because you lie." immutable truth, I like it or no.

But now is not my mother to give me cold water, so today I've been told that shirt me and I felt good I thought. I've been told I'm beautiful, and I've believed. I've been told I can taste, and surely enjoy, but do not want to realize, and I've believed. And I've noticed that, at bottom, in the church were right. It is good to believe. In the compliments from friends, in the voices that whisper to you phone, and in oneself. Although everything is a lie. There will be time for disbelief, and to be a fallen angel who returns to hell and back and see all black, clothing and life.

Today I
since a coup in my wardrobe. I have gone to H & M and I bought a green shirt, a bustier top and a bathing suit pattern trikini shooting with tear in the front so that I can see her navel. Give him the ass to black!

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Tonight, my city is celebrating. Not everyone, of course, this football is just a way to separate people: rich and poor, red-brick facades of the Atletico Madrid today ... But someone has gone to bed happy. Some even you have probably taken a powder. Lucky for some!

On Friday night and everything was ready for the celebration. A viewpoint to place cameras TV in strategic locations, lighting to illuminate the Post Office building, host of the Eternal City of Gallardón ominously, a juicy front page of Marca
(I've always wanted to do the covers of Mark and La Razón. How will these things happen!) and the Cibeles almost shielded, not bags, to avoid the danger of civil war bombing, but hurdles to avoid the danger of the Vandals, who are those people of Europe North who came to Spain in the 409 (according to wikipedia), but a very large bunch of people who have no respect for the monuments and, who knows why can not conclude anything if you do not break something. In itself that no cracks. Some are rich and poor, red-brick facades, the Madrid and Atletico.

I'm not too fond of massive celebrations. And yet, while the sound of firecrackers broke the traditionally quiet nights in my neighborhood of old men, like rain broken clouds all day, I drew a smile on his face.

I'm tired, like Beckham, Van Nistelrooy and Casillas, but happy as kings. My triumph is not a trophy, and no one is going to celebrate in the Cibeles, although I would if I did not see me heat and no.

I have managed to retain for nearly 24 hours to three tireless beasts ten, five and three years, running down the flanks by the center and where they throw. That are thrown to the shins or ankles and, as women, do not know what being out of game because for them everything is game. Each has learned one thing from another, I am, that children do not always go to his family. With the problems we have my sister and I with the gas and farts who have been pulling in just one day. They (the two children), to be cleaned the "tail" after peeing.

Fortunately, everything went well. My house is in good condition without sandbags or fences, and both my physical as theirs has been ensured at all times. Not so much mental integrity of my cat, who has suffered a terrible attack, a mixture of panic and jealousy, and puffing with snorts them had never heard and which seems to have built for the occasion. My head hurts, and I have a few stitches in the stomach as when I put a claim in the warehouses of the green triangle, which means I've been very nervous. But I feel the same I felt when I saw the deeds of my house: he had achieved something that I did not think could ever do alone. The truth, I have no plan to repeat in the case of the house. In the other, is likely to do, now that I emerged victorious. Oe, oe, oe oeeeeeeeee.