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The Way is a wonderful thing ...


E 'was a difficult day today.

Cicitto I had to leave home just after lunch to go to work.

The department was not full, but as always, remain in hospital only people with more difficulty. We also had two hospitalizations, very complex, but I was in good company, two very good colleagues and a wonderful auxiliary and a good doctor.

The afternoon is spent.

Back home, it was empty and it looked cool, even though the heaters going full steam: Cicitto was not there and I felt terribly alone.
For more on television, turning to channels, I found the film "Life is a wonderful thing" ... and tears down. As usual I did the "pregnant woman".

And yes! That's right!
LIFE 'a wonderful thing!
So to have close to a wonderful man who loves me and that I love ... and everything is WONDERFUL!

Merry Christmas to all and may God bless you everyone! A big hug to

tuttied especially to you, my love!
Merry Christmas!

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STRANGE CREATURES CHRISTMAS. BUT CAN A COW 'A SLEIGH RIDE?

wind. Our envy of the penis has the wind at your back ... and big meaty breasts. Here, yes, more or less like idiots (extreme understatement) shown above, not taken at random as an example of what I call a missed opportunity ... and God only knows how many there are lost.
In this day of Christmas, the web has been invaded by images like these. In every corner del pianeta virtuale è stato infatti tutto un fiorire di varianti “sexy” (altro garbato eufemismo) del coglionazzo più rosso-dipinto della storia del consumismo occidentale: Babbo Natale.
Lungi dal voler mettere in discussione i sogni di milioni di pargoletti infinocchiati fino all’età matura, vorrei invece soffermare la vostra labile attenzione – resa difficoltosa da quel pezzo di cotechino non del tutto digerito – sul perché… sul perché di codeste ambizioni.
Noi donne – si sa - siamo soggetti peculiari e non soltanto in quanto portatrici di un miserabile potenziale creativo, ma ancor di più per quell’ineluttabile bisogno di dover sempre giocare la carta sexy con piglio bunny-cow-pretty-nice-and-froufrou-trallellero-and-trallallà. Underlying this ambition there are obviously a pair of beliefs:
- the first is that we think we can be always able to turn every toilet in a toilet ammorbante scented with only the use of our warm charm, the right amount of lingerie red pork, veal and tits pulley-like look porn star retired;
- the second - even worse than the first - is that everything the prerogative of men can be easily reviewed, copied and pasted on our brains and our need to lean equal-opportunity at all costs. Moreover - and this I think really - we are able to do what men do ... and even better. With a "simaptica" dash of chilli.
So, what's the problem? There is no problem, no kick awkwardly with our panties filled with some wilted cucumber is the solution ... the solution to our need to grab something that will never have. Even with a prodigious foul-plastic.

The point is, you see, that the result is always questionable. In short, there is somewhere in the world someone really interested in these variants uterine? Yes, ok, pea flaccid your partner needs a help ... but Viagra is not enough? But
question of questions is: are we really sure they achieved the right effect?
continue to complain as pregnant bitches who mistreat us, that we underestimate that we use, we see only in the "horizontal", but what I wonder is: what do we do to oppose this? Good question, is not it?

From what we see around, we not only put in the queue for auditions, but we pride ourselves for our aesthetic goals: the only thing that we would never be able to sacrifice. In other words, we ride the wave ... and what we like!

No, dear friends, I'm not here to make morality - who the fuck it fuck if your favorite position reaches 20 cm above the ground - what I want for Christmas is a little 'sincerity. Nothing spectacular, mind you, just a little 'self-critical to understand that if the world is how it goes, not just the fault of men (the third and last euphemism), but also ours. It is also our fault because we are not able to remain dressed in front of a man? (No one forces us ... if not the desire to put in that place at the heart of our enemy)
Even more I understand why - even when we should be fully dressed in red, dress with soft white fur, covered by a thick white hair - we present in this latter fashion?

Qualcuna, ovviamente, potrebbe obiettare che se fossimo così nessuno ci distinguerebbe da un uomo. Ottimo, e non è questo quello che volevamo? Non volevamo essere come gli uomini?
E d’altronde solo qualche sgallettata pensionata potrebbe esigere da Babbo Natale un pacco dono turgido e durevole.

Insomma, io continuo a non capire: questa processo di “sexyzzazione” del tutto-cosmico non lo capisco davvero. Perché questo bisogno di essere vacche-forever? Non sarà per caso che assecondiamo semplicemente la nostra indole? Non sarà per caso che sentiamo tutto questo coerente con il nostro modo di essere?
C’è qualcosa che mi sfugge, lo confesso.

Buon Natale. Anzi no… non vorrei proprio avervi sulla coscienza. Il mio psicanalista dice che sono prossima alla guarigione e che non devo esagerare con i sensi di colpa... potrebbe piacermi troppo.

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A CHRISTMAS, A CHRISTMAS GIVE A stereotype

“A Natale bisogna essere più buoni”. Io questa frase me la sarò sentita ripetere si è no una volta l’anno negli ultimi trentacinque (quando andava bene) , ma quest’anno, differentemente dall’opaca acquiescenza degli anni precedenti, ho deciso di voltare pagina, decidendo repentinamente di ribellarmi a questa gran cazzata dell’albero, del presepio, dei cenoni interminabili… ma soprattutto delle Christmas balls. Some

every year buys a half-dozen to swell the unprotected plastic straw, but there is someone else - me, for example - waiting for Christmas to empty the closets and soul of those balls that year after year copiously filled his consciousness.

I this year I donated a wagon sincerity ... and a shovel, the first to uncover some truth false historical-cultural, the other to bury the highest number of coglionazze license - with SUV - nicely named "moms of today."

That reads "Mom's any one ... ed io ogni volta mi ripeto ossessivamente “Per fortuna! Per fortuna!!!”. Questo è infatti uno di quegli strani momenti della vita in cui ringrazio Iddio per averci dato di default questa enorme BOTTA DI CULO. Perché, diciamocelo francamente, nulla è più nocivo al mondo delle mamme… dopo l’amianto.
Vi starete chiedendo – ma forse già lo immaginate – perché questo travaso di bile uterina ad una settimana esatta dalla evento più improbabile che sia mai stato elaborato da una mente malata autorizzata per intercessione divina. Beh, datemi il tempo di spiegare, ma prima consentitemi una piccola digressione.
Al termine dei miei lunghi e penosi studi sociologici, credo di aver finally identified the two main macro-categories of women: single and married. The big difference between them is not - as could easily be inferred - a circle of stupid metal finger on a date that most would then forget, what an idea ... or as they call the business a vision.
In the first - the single - there's an idea of \u200b\u200b"discontinuity" in fact there is a desire to "break" (and how they break the single is known to all) of evolution, emancipation ... of the future. And that future is usually something futuristic space where there is for the cultural, socio-cultural asymmetries for the limitation of the potential that each of us feels like the X factor in their lives.
In the latter, there is instead an idea of \u200b\u200bcontinuity, of tradition, firmly anchored to the regulatory principles of social and biological. In other words, there is in them a desire to maintain a strong identity ... and in general the idea of \u200b\u200bpreservation. Their.
The crux of the whole question is that, since the fair, while the first model is appealing to all, the second is at the end the winner. And an outstanding reason for this: while the first club to sign up for Equal Opportunities, cazzeggiano in ammorbanti disquisizioni filosofiche su chi sia il più forte e la prima della classe, se la tirano… e professano obbligate astinenze (chi vuoi che se la fili una cessa logorroica?); le seconde si limitano a sfornare figli e figlie a loro immagine e somiglianza, contribuendo a mantenere inalterato lo status socio-culturale con il semplice uso del passa-parola. E poi dicono che le casalinghe non fanno un cazzo dalla mattina alla sera…

Per tornare a bomba (me le dia tutte, oggi prevedo un genocidio di genere), questa mattina deambulavo pigramente per gli affollati corridoi di un supermercato qualunque per fare un po’ di spesa, quando ad un tratto mi tornò alla mente di dover necessariamente comprare un pensierino per la figlia di una cara amica. Per adesso.
La ragazzina è tanto caruccia: un vero condensato di dolcezza e sorrisi spensierati, una bambina a cui non si può dire di no. E così, con il sorriso stampato sulla faccia e tutte le sane intenzioni del caso, mi avventurai nei corridoi riservati ai giocattoli. Vi giuro, non l’avessi mai fatto. Nell’arco di una manciata di secondi il mio sorriso cominciò a perdere il suo smalto per trasformarsi nel più orrendo degli incubi ad occhi aperti: corridoi improvvisamente scoloriti in un monocromatico rosa shopping che indulgevano, quando andava bene, ad un più intenso lillà. Ma questo era niente: fatine griffate, atletiche e siliconate pretty-girl, principesse, mermaids sprouted from every pink packaging bearing the CE mark to say that ... are not toxic. Of course if you do not eat anything happen, but if you play you'll see that something happens to you ...

And then there were on display all types of need to create the most futuristic plastic jewelry (we are accustomed to the costume ) to make delicious dishes with a portable kitchen, to make up the nails mo 'bitch of Thailand, for bleached hair (all the dolls are blonde. Mah!), to tattoo the body of glittery fairies, to the mother of the child the child, the nurse, hairdresser, stylist, men's grooming elderly, caregivers, and the teacher. In short: a condensed-tools are still able to sink even the most promising of feminists and to obscure the clearest idea of \u200b\u200bcultural evolution.
And the brainwashing continues with the clothing - all pink, it goes without saying - to continue with pink accessories of the PC, camera ... all topped off with tulle, organza, the scent of freesias, red strawberry.
not an object looked even vaguely suggest a smart choice, an alternative estimate. No, the most dramatic of the whole picture was obviously the mothers, suddenly became the passionate director of taste and more ... detrattrici fierce critic of the spirit. At least up to 14 years.
From this age, the mothers - the same as above but with a fake hair color more than before - in fact, begin to wonder why their daughter has become so bitch ... and especially so early. Envy, you know, is the hallmark of us women ... and of course the math has never been our favorite subject, perhaps because a prior sum of all the bullshit, preconceived ideas, stereotypes would have helped to realize that perhaps are not the men not to allow the evolution of a cultural model. The women of today are the children of yesterday ... and from time to time, education has been in the hands of men? Yes dear friends, let us stop to shift the blame for our losses of men, we like to wear a skirt, or more convenience, but we are not even ready to admit that the brain-ce grave dig the well by themselves.
We like the benefits of being a woman, but scream "discrimination" if others see us as we are.
This is our defeat, and things will not change until we persist in developing transactions with cultural meaning: Let us begin a boycott of the manufacturers of toys, magazines that depict us as we do not want to be, to do different jobs, to up and perfumes di meno, a fare meno le puttane.

Cominciamo ad essere davvero coraggiose. Facciamolo davvero perché, fintanto che percorreremo questa strada, il totale della somma sarà sempre e soltanto una bambola di gomma. E neanche di buona qualità.

Buon Natale

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Alero A huge ...


say that a huge tree gives rise to misunderstandings ...?

I was trying to find a new Christmas tree, because the ones I had in my garage, because there were two: old plucked and second-hand.

I tried searching in all the malls closer to home: they were either too large or too expensive. Carry Bradshaw would say, "I asked myself: will there ever be a Christmas tree for me?"
Cicitto and I were shopping for Iper ... and here is a box to nod a lot of other ciarpamerie Christmas: it seemed just the right height and also the price ... I'll take or not take it ... I'll take it!
can not offer me a good buy and then take me somewhere else! I buy it!

got home I opened the box and beat ... well is huge!
and sixty feet high, full and rich and deals with a mess of space in both width and height.
I do not care ... It 's my new Christmas tree and it's beautiful: shorten the tip! With

Cicitto, go to the garage to take the boxes of Christmas decorations, where are all the accumulated years of decorations and ... we begin to decorate our Christmas tree. The first Christmas tree to Cicitto.
The end result was stunning: balls, ribbons, blue lights and silver. Beautiful!

I still have to put all the other decorations around the house and the lights on the railing, the angel wings on the lights.

Yet I can not even feel like Christmas every year.

shifts at the hospital are really crappy: 23:24 morning, afternoon, 25 and 26 and no chance to exchange with colleagues to stupid rules that do not allow to work consecutive afternoon and morning. Shit!
And to think that I have all the gifts already in the house for months: the first one I bought at the end of July.

Maybe it's all because of steroids! To relieve pain
riacutizzatosi art psoriatic arthritis, the doctor changed my treatment, but after an initial improvement has taken over a period of stalemate with a persistent discomfort in the jaw joint, knees, ankles and small joints fingers in a zero sum.
But it's good that I have someone who loves me and whom I love and that gives me the strength to get up in the morning, although I'd love to stay in bed and rest, that gives me the strength to go to work and I from the joy of returning home where I often find myself waiting for me and make love.
It 's a simple life ours, but gives us much joy, gives us life .. a beautiful life we \u200b\u200blive together for five years and a half.

Another Christmas!
another wonderful Christmas together and to hell with everything else.
I'll tell you the rest when the cortisone will give me a new mystical crisis.
An arm, Sal.

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EDIZIONI PENDRAGON

Le mie editor(s) si sono divertite a cercare di stemperare il linguaggio acidulento del mio libro d'esordio. Io gliel'ho impedito.

Ad esser sincera stavano quasi rischiando un esaurimento uterino. poi, alla fine, si sono divertite anche loro.

and now its your turn!

tomino This is already in the library ...

you and you just have to ask for it.

Some reviews:

NEW YORK MAGAZINE: "... exhilarating, poignant as any book ever was capable of being. Amanda Nash paints a timely and ironic detail women today. It will definitely be sued. "

LE MONDE: " Incredible enthusiasm in the misogynist these Pages that spit fire on the new trends of being a woman today. Fun ... for those who can read between the lines. "

THE TIMES: " real women to the rescue. Finally someone realized that the model has run Spice girl no longer works. A sociological twist and a dash of chilli "

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25 November: DAY TO COMBAT VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN. ENORMOUS COCKS!

Newsflash: named after the egregious bullshit " March 8 - we women can now congratulate each other on having snatched another day in the calendar of those bumpkins with pea between his legs also known as men. But the goal is distant and the disparity is still too overwhelming, however, are other 363 days of difference between us and them.

Yeah, that's right, November 25 was chosen to celebrate the fight against violence against women. The news - I will tell you - left me puzzled because I was trying to figure out if there was a timetable in the same damn same day that celebrates the fight against violence on men. I checked, and that date does not exist. Shit, right there ... and this is wrong.

We have always been certain of violence by men, but I wonder why this same awareness we do not invest as bearers of an equal or perhaps even more brutal violence ... the men. Maybe because there's always been that we natural predisposition to feel victims of everything, the male cellulite, the double work, responsibilities, rip-affective depression. Maybe ... but I believe that this day does not exist for two outstanding reasons: the first has to do with the fact that men do not go around complaining like little girls .... The second concerns the particular nature of female violence.

psychology explains that men are certainly more direct expression of aggression: a healthy slap you give up, you mess up your make-up false-hooker, but then all things back into line. The point against them is obviously the visibility of their "wrong." That eye black is not in fact escaped the gaze of any cross-eyed idiot Vattelapesca center of social protection of defenseless women, who, with interviews and eye examinations are limited to noting the effects rather than investigating the causes. Result of the whole operation? An Oscar for Best Actor for his career after that of absolute Dellera Francesca in "The Liar". We

girls, conversely, not just the usual we are always talking about the monster that is out of us without even having the minimum wage of self-criticism that we can sgam "the killer that is in us," but even the critical capacity to understand the reason for that eye-in-style panda extinction. No, none of this. The reason - as the remaining theological virtues imprinted in our DNA by default - it is always our only option ... and we certainly do not miss the chance to assert in any situation. It's a bit 'like when the blacks are becoming and always wrong to be their victims of discrimination, even when things are different. And since our creativity has no limits, even when we are in the wrong, let us invoke self-defense.

The point is, dear friends and bad friends, which in the reality of things our aggressiveness is characterized by the noise of his weapons and to act indirectly. Yes, it is true, it is a violence that produces visible effects, but it is violence ... and some of its effects have a "lasting" much longer of a hematoma. And we know this. We know, for example - and that we experience every day with our friends and colleagues of-bitches - that what hurts is not a direct action, clear and obvious, as a mezzuccio, tease, un'angheria, a wrong word at the moment right. Look no further.

And maybe then, when viewed in this perspective, the question takes on an entirely different and unexpected significance: violence we are capable is the only thing that we really need to defend themselves. The load of hatred and resentment that we bring in is often the main cause of feeding and exacerbate tensions. The fact that we are not able to land a punch does not mean nothing, but it just means that means that we will know even more sharp and destructive of any of the weapons used in a frontal collision.

And so we return to this story of the November 25, and all the other crap that our dear Minister Carfagna champions. Oh, by the way, if we can defend ourselves from some of stalking - even if it's just us women who suffer it (all be verified) - what will defend us from the evil tongues, by those micro-behaviors that just on my nerves, by the insinuations made off with a smile, attitudes affecting the pride and dignity, he put the bitch who know present ... and horrors all the remaining flow of silence that we know necessary to create with careless or false innocence?

The answer is one and nobody.

So let us stop creating false myths: that of all female victims is something I believe (maybe) only men.

It is time to evolve dear friends, mewing and moaning could probably fool anyone, but I think we should just stop. I just do not do it più!!! E voi?

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AS SARAH SARAH ... A global failure

Il 2008 non è un anno che sarà facilmente dimenticato. Mai, infatti, avevamo assistito ad una serie perfetta di fallimenti clamorosi. E se è vero che s’impara più dalle sconfitte che dalle vittorie, allora possiamo dirci prossime ad essere le più erudite creature di tutto l’universo. Buco nero incluso… con buona pace di Naomi Campbell.

La prima della fortuna serie dal titolo “come mi suicido pubblicamente” è stata Miss-perfezione Ségolene Royal: abitino da professoressa, moglie perfetta, vocabolario aulico perfettissimo… tutto perfetto. L’unica imperfection was that monolith twenty yards on a favorite stand-style Bernadette. The men voted, hoping I could do to her what Lewinsky did to Bill Clinton, but women boycotted the French, should be good to put your feet on a man (we used to, no?), But a couple of those high heels ... no just could not bear it. What can I say? Sego has fully understood the lesson, otherwise it would explain the new look Samaritan barefoot faux-Joan-Baez-in-full-Woodstock. My sister - the one with Alzheimer's - is dressed the same way, and from which she stopped to break the boxes around, she found herself. It is not the only one: a year ago, a patrol anti-vagrancy has brought it back home after a long pilgrimage to the fair and confused white. Two weeks after the tragic event was elected mayor in the town of Petralia Sottana.

The second was in chronological order instead of "miss-blind-to-Sorrento-made-in-USA", aka Hillary Clinton. In his long life he pretended it did not see anything, much less that of her husband slobbering Vestino blue stain to the painfully sweet Monica by promising ... speaking skills and how to overcome her oral examinations, it did not. This year, ten years after blowjob most successful in history, the sweet Hillary began to walk between a convention and the other (together with a German shepherd cross on the back) in search of personal redemption. But you know, when things are already bad, often continue to get worse: blinded by ambition to make him see that spinach paunchy has forgotten that while they would also view all hypothetical voters. Results of the whole operation: a collective effort of a tsunami-like proportions of modest size, a bored husband and a daughter stops before (put some more not seen since the last catalog of Postal market). On the personal side, however, Hillary has not "seen" even a vote. Talk about the fate
... But I will tell you, I would be magnanimous, I cast my vote gliel'avrei given ... I would have voted for Braille.

In the race to the White House (some cultural legacies die hard in terms of domestic ambitions) is then checked her, Miss-pork-with-lipstick Palin. Until a few months ago no one knew ... except for a handful of frozen brain from neuron, which had made of sticks Findus governor of Alaska. Read by the social worker syndrome Romanian, has thought that his future could be in the arms and legs dell'incartapecorito-ultra-septuagenarian McCain, hoping to enjoy the "well deserved" power after its rapid demise.

Embraced warm affection for a machine gun Shoot-election of bullshit and a rouge-gloss dell'Avon No. 16 that gave her an air of both skilled nursing homes for sado-masochistic gay catchy name that's located in Via-Gra, our woman-woman-uoma from the vagina deadly U.S. has presented to the public in order to balance the smell of formaldehyde emanating from the Jurassic McCain toupee. After

how fragile the obvious enthusiasm for the new couple emerged from the "rack-pornoinfermiera stoned" that would be secured at least a vote of all the carers of America, things started to go wrong ... so much so that after the 'nth-power vagina and externalization of prima donna of the piece - McCain thought trumpet in progress, trying to limit the damage of an image just authoritative and successful. The fact Palin was hoping to convince us that it was time for the remake of Wonder Woman, but it was enough to fly above the binomial Mitra-vagina to win the undecided and cover up the extent of his political inexperience.

The day before the primary, taking leave from the stage of the last convention, Miss Piggy has mumbled a feeble " I hope I wake up at the White House . Prediction was never more apt: the house white was ... all right, but unfortunately there were a couple of red crosses on the outside and nailed a huge written statement " padded for bedroom, this way ." The people closest to her have confirmed that all things considered, "he took it well" (Vaseline offered by the Republican Party has had its effect) and that has put a mortgage on the 2012 elections. I do not know, but I think in four years, in addition to the mortgage must also make a nice adjustable rate mortgage ... for the amount of lipstick that will serve to restore the slop that has served up this year.


These are the facts. Now on to comments.
History has taught us - are now very erudite - that something is went the right way. From France to the U.S. bringing with it an echo spreads the good news: the cultural model produced by our grandmothers in the last century, proved unsuccessful. Very. Too.

Urge therefore a reflection, or rather a reorganization of the cognitive map, in short, after we walked in search of treasure, the only treasure we found was a peremptory message from the male world " baby, do not break my balls , the rings are there and the broom is in the closet! "

Metaphors aside, we could not convince anyone ... or any better. You this fact, our biggest mistake. In short, men, boys, do not believe in us was very clear from the primordial soup, but I do not believe even the women here ... we discovered this now. It is unclear whether this is just the absence of solidarity among women, what is certain is that we are ready for any passing culture. And this mainly because the model of girl power not only enchants, but does not embody any new ideal ... it's just aggression and desire for revenge, but in itself is a blank image that crumbles at the slightest hint of rationality: feminine noun, but only in the dictionary.
is no longer time for excuses and false identities.
way, do not call me more than Amanda ... my name is Nash. John Nash

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THE WOMAN THAT DOES NOT EXIST '...

"Why do you hate women, Amanda?" This is the classic question we all ask me when, after reading my post, is invested by the wave Abnormal my energy misogynist.
Often I also have asked me, and I think I've finally found the answer. But let's step by step, otherwise what am I doing here?
If, as I believe you have been dismayed before the image above I am sure then that we begin already to be clear ... because, to tell il vero, io le donne le vedo proprio così: monche.
Intendiamoci, quella a cui mi riferisco, non è altro che un’immagine mentale; è la rappresentazione simbolica di come apparirebbero le donne se le stesse riuscissero a proiettare la propria immagine su una parete bianca.
Vi starete adesso chiedendo come faccio a conoscere, a discernere, questa immagine se ogni donna la porta dentro sé? Diciamo pure che non ci riesco, e che non sono neppure dotata della capacità di leggere nel pensiero altrui.

E dunque? E dunque io ci riesco, limitandomi semplicemente ad osservare.

Ora, tornate per un attimo a riguardare il corpo della donna raffigurato in alto… e ditemi cosa vedete?
Do not know about you, but I just see a woman in a ready position at the starting blocks, but I also see a woman without legs.

The dissonant note however, is the "quality" of his ambition, out of his reach ... of its possibilities.
... And then I see a pair of dentures. Do you know what a prosthesis? The prosthesis is usually an "extension" is the extension of conceptual skills not possessed by the person who wears it.
And so, a wheelchair user to help her move, a hearing ear to hear; dentures to eat ... a remote control to turn on the TV, a car to travel, fork to eat.

But there is one thing that does not convince me, or rather a series of things that do not convince me, a fake hair color, color, fake lips, fake a color on the cheeks, one on the eyes, a fake perfume, a pair of false eyelashes, a set of fake nails, fake nails fake color. Then the list of fasullame is enriched with other elements: a bra that lifts, pushing, grasping, and a thong that Scosche ... a sheath model. And again, a bit 'silicone here, a little' beyond Botox, liposuction on the other side, a rounded cheek, a nose planed, a few ribs in less than a hymen riverginizzato. The

women in the last two centuries have learned to make use of the prosthesis, and in a sense began to try it ... taste, taste even tried to look more and more incomplete, and conversely more and more in need of prostheses that help to "restore "something lost.

point, you see, not what "is" the woman in the picture thanks to his prosthetics, but what is "really a woman without.

None. The woman without her "beautiful" prosthesis is nothing ... nothing that is worth loving. The woman is now just a jumble of superstructures held together by an ambition to see something that is not: is only supreme vanity, vanity, pure, pointless waste of life energy.

And for those who felt like a leap into the cultural garbage ammorbante more feminine, beautiful and ready here is the latest in prosthetic superfluous.

do gymnastics on stiletto heels. It is the summer introduced new specialty in gyms Milan. This technique, which depopulated in America, is much loved by super fashionable women like Paris Hilton and Victoria Beckham, but is also practiced by less exhibitionist actresses like Julia Roberts, in the gym to tone your body hoisted on high heels. The stretching of the stars has landed in Milan in the circuit of Virgin Active and Corsico Bicocca but is catching on a bit 'all over the world. Fashion accomplice who, having given women the convenience of ultra flat ballerina, now change the registry and raises her heels from vertigo from 10 to 12 cm, those who pose a threat to the ankle. "Learning to be on high heels is a good training in order to find safety and femininity - said Lucia, coach at the Virgin Active - this is an exercise that is good for your legs and improves self-esteem. " Lucia, a physicist from Cubist, fitness expert and admirer of Zen culture, the first thing he teaches is to have a proud and aware. "Women who are not familiar with heels tend to throw on the shoulders, are discordant and unbalanced - he explains - but to walk well enough to stand in front of a mirror, hold the abdominals and buttocks contracts with the shoulders down and neck stretched upward. " Lucia ensures that once you learn this technique, "just put one foot before the other with the knee slightly bent, and it competes with models." Learning to walk is important but not enough. Stretching on high heels, if practiced consistently, stretch the muscles of the legs from calf to thigh, and also makes them more sexy. "This is a practice that can help sculpt the leg - said Lucy - Sharon Stone is one of the most convinced supporters of these exercises. Her legs are toned and sexy at the same time. And heels seem naturally embedded in his legs . But to achieve the results of Sharon Stone takes a lot of lessons. You have to have the perseverance to spend hours in the gym but they are given exercises that serve to lengthen the muscles and make it more subtle. All without ever forgetting to bring the heels to the gym, because without them the lesson not even start.

I'm going to have an orgasm of misogyny. Fuck if we are going badly!

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THE PENIS envy. AND VICE VERSA

A recent study published in the journal "Vagina, penis and botox - Monthly different humanity lost on the way of anything - has compiled a list of the penalties that should be met 90% of women.

the third millennium, in fact, is not only the temporal space reserved for global warming, pollution and global sexually transmitted diseases, is the millennium of the suffering of women. If the man - the one with the pen between his legs - has definitely increased their level of satisfaction and social self, the woman has, conversely, a strange parable inner path that led to greater dissatisfaction.

The article, written by authoritative scientific minds after nearly a decade of fieldwork, please return a list of the things and situations that most characterize the pains of women today. After several statistical calculations based on a model of bi-variate factor analysis has been identified with no margin for error, the motor factor, the penis envy.

As is well known is characterized as ambivalent desire: to possess what others have ... which exemplifies the well-known concept of "penis envy", which will be discussed shortly. The emphasis is thus on a comparison of their situation with quella delle persone invidiate, e non sul valore intrinseco dell'oggetto posseduto da tali persone, e questo è soprattutto vero se si considera che l’intimo desiderio di una donna è quello di avere anche solo per un giorno la possibilità di appropriarsi di quel generoso (oddio, avercene) pacco dono biologicamente dato ai maschi. Infatti, benché molti uomini non sappiano che farsene (oltre che scuoterlo vigorosamente dopo una goduriosa minzione) l’ammontare dell’invidia non sembra subire un decremento, anzi.

È interessante, poi, considerare l'invidia come il peccato "opposto" alla superbia : mentre la superbia consiste in un'eccessiva considerazione di sé, l'invidia è caratterizzata da una bassa autostima e da una concezione esagerata degli ostacoli e delle difficoltà… e vorrei ben dire. Insomma, hai voglia di ipotizzare il trapianto di un cicciolo mal tolto ad un cadavere ancora caldo di rigor mortis… La questione infatti non ha realmente a che vedere con l’appropriazione , quanto con tutto l’insieme di simboli che questa portentosa minchiuzza porta con sé: secolare potere, spalle larghe geneticamente modificate, peli superflui che nessuno noterà, igiene intima trascurabile. Il punto è quindi che essere uomini ha i suoi vantaggi (a parte un notevole risparmio in inutili cosmetici) , e come ogni buon saldo di fine stagione tutte le Women want to get their hands on.

The envious (jealous is more appropriate, but the doubt that creeps me angry with my even-bitches) can turn its envy not only to material objects, but also to alleged qualities possessed by envy: for example, a particular beauty, intelligence or ability, a strong fascination. But let's not be too optimistic: these qualities in men do not exist, but women love to imagine that they possess them. In fact, women are usually jealous of all men, and in a certain way, may soon try to change physically and temperamentally in an attempt to reproduce the features. In this

last century we have seen all the colors: women who dress like men, muscular women as men, women who imitate men work, women who hate women as men (and maybe more), women who develop ways by men (if you have never seen a lesbian pee ... you know what I mean), women who model their power in the style of men. In other words, women are especially monkeys: inferior beings who can not do anything original, unless convinced that the only way to please men.

After several attempts and subsequent failures, women have learned - after nearly a century - a new road because they could not get all the Cock and brain transplant, have started to react badly, despising and undervaluing the envied, because, in their eyes, this is guilty of what the show did not envious: a natural inclination to be male without any effort.

In the 90s we have witnessed instead the girl-power: a horde of euphoric sgallettate made by an unhealthy self-adoration served by appropriate sniffatine of genuine lesbianism. The stylistic evolution (that euphemism!) Of non-catante Madonna (that optimism!) Makes it clear that transition, and if you missed / and something I recommend the non-authorized biography written by the able hands of his brother's non-entry pop music.

Ora, se è vero che l’invidia del pene è una legge universale, è stato anche chiarito che nella maggior parte dei casi l’invidia è rivolta verso lo stesso sesso: gli uomini invidiosi lo sono, in genere, di uomini e le donne di donne. Dal lato femminile, l'invidia, che per i secoli addietro verteva quasi esclusivamente sull'avvenenza e sulla capacità di seduzione, da qualche decennio a questa parte, con il cambiamento del ruolo che la donna riveste nella società, ha cominciato ad "accostarsi", per molti aspetti, a quella degli uomini. (aspetti economici, politici, patrimoniali, professionali, culturali, intellettivi, sessuali)

Saltiamo a piè pari tutti questi aspetti e concentriamoci only political, since in recent years has moved permanently the agora on the absurd and narrow rooms of the world political jargon in an advanced state of moral decay.

In recent months, particularly, the theater of the clash of women moved between the parliament and the television, showing a pair of heroin and morphine for a long time in single combat: Carfagna and Guzzanti. The first orba
almost to the point that to see the agenda of the House of Representatives must be close to alarming proximity to any male pants and no bigger than a meter. And it shows that orba mainly because in each photograph appears with her eyes wide and pleading, not even if not eaten for three months ... or not getting fucked by two years. And I think that it is the latter case, you know, after the head trauma of being painful and rough in front of the divine bird of knight served Crawling on all fours, I think any woman would rise to the desire of hot meals and mucilage.
The second one we see very well, and we see well enough to be almost uncomfortable. The good thing too ... especially if this is in contrast with the brainwashing done by the TV (now monopolized by a group of beings that it would take only the perfect consumers of discounts and sales abbalenghiti video-broadcast).

After a series of skirmishes, in which the firing Guzzanti Carafagna denied the truth and the evidence we came to one of the most impressive performance of female psychology. A few weeks ago, before the bronchitis I sliced \u200b\u200bmy hand (I know, I was hoping for a departure) during an episode of the Matrix Carfagna, interviewed by Mentone, in an attempt (perhaps) in its own way of justifying the conduct of comic has actually pulled a pretty good trip, describing it as essentially unstable mind, " I sued and they are in trouble because Ms. Guzzanti me compassion. Poor thing, I do not think a strong person, I feel mentally fragile . The tone of the charitable

Mara - typical of Channel 5's soap Network 4 - seems to give it right ... in the sense that, acting on a typical behavior of the envious (she is indeed a brain did not have ever had), attempts to denigrate the Guzzanti with stupid digs even good to enjoy some good-natured smile. In fact she, having no claim to his bow certainly can not contradict. No, it can only be done, as would any stupid envious: hit irrationally, hoping to hit the mark.

not happy with the cosmic scope of his bullshit and his childhood toys, the Minister of Equal-bitches child has caught the ball (this is very good ... especially with balls "low") confessed, with a bark similar to that of the better known Goretti, his discouragement about the insinuations about his relationship with Knight, " I noticed a lot of jealousy on the part of women."

Gent.ma Carfagna, I'm not an expert on pumps at home, but allow me a little question: but what we should be envious? The Cav it's not Rocco Siffredi ... and certainly we are not ready to rip a small toy of such modest size. And then, excuse me, nothing that concerns him is liable to envy. Its amazing evolution from a tissue minister fails to convince none: the missing arguments.
Say no more. You do not need.

Sincerely

Vidéos Milena Velba

But Love ... yes ....

I am still blog ...

I just finished watching another movie that I had to do with Cicitto, but I know that he is very visual (a little short film and TV).
This time it happened to "love But yes, a funny Italian comedy that tackles the issue once again, with a likeable and intelligent Sconsy, which addresses the role of a mother of a gay son with una'estrema delicacy.
a really good movie. All the more so for me that I am the son of a southern family, with all the problems of the case.
not deny my roots, also because I have become what they are, but I can not accept discrimination and stigma against people who are gay and of course me.
The grudge is also why I can not live in the light of the warm sun of Sicily, my wonderful relationship with my Cicitto.

Today I booked a flight for your next holiday with my parents, but it is a flight for one person, but I feel a couple.
We have a wonderful relationship for over five years, eppure non posso portare l'Uomo della mia Vita nella casa dove sono vissuto.
Mia madre mi disse, il girono in cui ci siamo confidati ed io ho dichiarato la mia omosessualità:" ... posso accetare te, ma non pensare di portare qui un ragazzo dicendo < questo è il mio fidanzato> ..." Tarpandomi le ali per il resto mia vita o della sua.

I genitori dovrebbero essere quelli che ti supportano e ti accettano sempre e comunque... ma non è così... purtroppo....

Ci mettono al mondo e vorrebero che fossimo delle loro copie. Quando si accorgoni che siamo diversi, ci abbandonano lontano dal nido e dobbiamo vivere una vita da soli... Almeno fino a quando non troviamo un essere che ci rassomigli...
Ed io l'ho trovato!!! Il Mio Meraviglioso Man, My Cicitto, with whom I built a new nest, a new home, a new family ...

For now it is better to close. I greet you and hug. Yours, Ator.

Why Keep Equipment Clean To Appropriate Standards

I'm back for another post ...

Yesterday was a difficult day.
I dismounted from the night and did not want to do much, having to face another.
Cicitto I called for lunch and he was depressed about going.
I'm depressed too.

I decided to watch a film: "I pronounce you husband and husband", a play on the American theme, with many stereotypes about gays ... yet I recognize there are: the difficulty to face everyday problems of life in common, the difficulty of the family to accept the silly jokes of colleagues ...
So, being gay is not always easy!

Fortunately, depression passes and you start to live as usual.
The key thing is to have someone nearby to share even the bad moments.
Why are only moments! When we love
smpre you can overcome any difficulty.

And for this I thank you, my love, to be always by my side as I am for you. You Amoooooo!!

In the meantime, I close and greet you and embrace you. You, Sal.

More Sensitive To Pain After Menses

The nostalgia and regret ... About


I'm back!!

After so much time meeting the desire to leave a message, a text that speaks to me, when I talk about me ...

I had a heavy period and still is not over. But there are moments, there are emotions that lead me to the keyboard and start writing ...

for the umpteenth time I saw an episode of "Montalbano" and I felt the smell of the sea, my sea, I enjoyed the smell dll'erba dried by the salt, the color and light that only in those places you can see.

And I regret that my Cicitto not have seen them, they have not tasted it with my own senses.
This evening he was with me to see the same images, which are not exactly in my house (I am a bit parochial, but is not Acese as Ragusa) and translating the words that were said, by comparing the language spoken at home.
But how can I make you feel as I feel, how do I make you feel at Cicitto my own emotions ...
turning to the internet what do I find? Article about Baron Von Gloeden, famous for his stay in Taormina and photos of naked men and now he will do a show in Milan. A case
?!?
I do not think the case!

Siciliano My soul, my blood, I am screaming inside!

few weeks I will go for a few days at my parents' house and the thing that pains me most is that Cicitto is not with me, to see what I see and enjoy ciò che io gusto, a sentire ciò che io sento e questo mi trascinerà con una forza indicibile a tornare tra le nebbie della Brianza per poter riabbracciare l'Uomo della mia Vita.

Mia madre al telefono, dopo molti mesi che non mi vede, mi chiede di Lui, dicendo che, visti i tempi che corrono e le coppie che si rompono, è bello sapere che ci sia chi rimane insieme nonostante tutto.
Ma questo durerà fino a quando non sarò a casa e dopo pochi giorni tornerà all'attacco, dicendo che fà continui voti al Signore perchè faccia il miracolo e riporti il suo "figlio perduto" sulla giusta via, cioè si sposi con una brava ragazza, quelle stesse "brave ragazze" che hanno cornificato i mariti e hanno abbandonato children to chase another man who Trobe more vigorously.
So you fight and I curse the moment I decided to travel to make a pilgrimage back to my roots.

Better to be like the mistletoe, such as orchids, which take root wherever they are based and that becomes their home.
The anchors do not allow us to go to our "happy island".

My roots I planted in the heart of my love, my beautiful man who loves me beyond words and I love without limits.

Perhaps it is better to close and that references the next time, maybe less with nostalgia and regret.
In the meantime, I greet you and embrace you. Yours, save (and Cicitto).