Ci sono anni molto strani, anni in cui il tempo sembra non passare mai. Ecco, io quest anno mi sono ritrovata questa spiacevole sensazione nelle tasche della più amara consapevolezza (Dio come sono alta,oggi! ndr.)
Quest’anno, infatti, diversamente dall’anno scorso – o del tutto uguale a l’anno scorso – mi sono trovata di nuovo a contare i centesimi dell’indifferenza… e, badate, non parlo di quella degli uomini; a quella, ormai ci siamo abituate. Mi riferisco infatti a quella delle donne verso le altre pari-stronze.
Che dire? Anche a questa, ahimé, ci siamo abituate, ma io pensavo che almeno per un giorno all’anno potessimo mettere da parte le nostre abituali competitiveness in favor of an argument that the status of our women "liberated" imposes. But what happened? Nothing, nothing, nicht, rien, nada de nada.
year, also in conjunction with the promotion of my book, I went to Milan. The day was unusually warm and pleasant, the women in the streets (like every day of the year) were very many, but for some reason went to all their cocks (God as they are low now!). Yes, ok, almost all held in the hand or on the lapel of his coat a sprig of mimosa, but what the fuck to do with International Women's Day? (I'm starting to scrape the ground dell'incazzatura) is not that to buy a mangy bunches of mimosa you wait for the March 8, eh?! Those who are just waiting for the March 8 men. Ensure that they never forget this festival, it was only to be expected everywhere with a sprig of acacia that to launch yet another attack on our self-esteem, presenting you with courtesy and a little foaming at the mouth to treat us like princesses. Once a year, in fact, the more sensitive they wake up one quarter of an hour before the raid the nearest bed, and then ventured into the kitchen doing unspeakable maialata clumsily disguised as "nouvelle cuisine of the fool" who then decorate a unlikely tray.
The less sensitive but are waiting for us on public transport with the same branch and the same drivel, but with something extra: a special invitation to dinner at a luxurious restaurant ... of course we declined in favor of the classic college prank among women we will shut up in some kind of local amenities to give head to the infamous stripper turn stuffed up to the ends of Viagra.
I shall not here to blame or not to make moral ed'altronde ... if your husbands were chosen on a basis other than physical ones, it is perfectly natural to look for a straw to suck at least once a year. So never mind.
What really struck me – ma a questo anch’io dovrei esserci abituata – è stata la totale assenza di voci. Milano era sì piena, ma di stronzette protese a spendere la paghetta del marito o la misera busta paga (invisibilmente decurtata di un buon 15 % rispetto agli uomini) nei negozi del centro. Per fortuna che il sindaco di Milano è una donna… perché altrimenti al posto dei musei aperti non avremmo avuto neppure quelli, ma solo il classico calcio in culo che tanto ci eccita per 364 giorni l’anno. Sì, dev’essere così, a noi la nostra condizione piace… ci piace davvero tanto. Ci piacciono le gentilezze, gli uomini che ci aprono la porta, che ci fanno regalini ogni due-per-tre, che ci mantengono. E se, santo god, every now and give us some therapeutic slap, what's the problem? So why change this status quo? If things really do not like, there armory at all points and we add to our confidence to tell. But that distracted - sorry - I had totally forgotten that we are only able to say very big bullshit.
The March 8, 2009 I think that will be remembered for the shit of our dear Carfagna proud that suit tells us that now there is a law on stalking (watch the girls also applies to you), but especially for the mega minchiatona Cosmic dell'ANML President (National Association of maimed and disabled workers) Marco Fabio Sartori on the occasion of the happy event that launched the project of tune notes.
The move was made to spin on the deplorable fate of women who die at work. The news will tell you, took me by surprise, perhaps because I can still hear the screams of those poor wretches of Tyssen or all of those beautiful boys that if they are on the scaffolding to do jobs that we label as "work to be male ... (but were not looking for equal opportunities?)
turn up their noses but I am listening ... and we do not rest until I find out that truth in the incidents of women are very inferior to those occurring to men, but that 70% of those who have had an accident was not at work, but on the way to go in the workplace.
Intermezzo spastic
No, forgive me, I did not understand the real issue here ... the accidents happening on the road?? Sorry, but what the fuck-dick-anus-vagina has to do with the deaths on the job?? I did not know that the road all'incuria participate in the employer or were complicit in the absence of fire extinguishers ...
Explanation
Since missing useless studies aimed at demonstrating the discrimination of women, has anyone thought to put the tragic and to raise the question about the mortality of women going to work, whereas men use the teleportation to make the same journey.
The phenomenon was also observed to develop - not without a ruinous outlay from taxpayers - a plan or initiatives to stem the flow. These are some suggestions: 1
- construction of parking areas Rosa, in which every wise worker may rest with the help of experienced massage therapists, hairdressers and beauticians for the holidays. Some stress must be carefully avoided!
2 - developing a new schedule of work that will provide for a reduction in favor of other highly profitable activities such as maybe the lipstick before-during and after meetings, to make a peremptory change of clothes between morning and afternoon then a nap half an hour every half hour to avoid the physiological drop of attention. God forbid we upset the wrinkles make-up!;
3 - a 70% discount on probiotic products based on omega 3, which strengthens the immune system and responses to external stimuli such as overtaking, parking and toll ... All these activities created especially for discriminating against women;
4 - two hours before the release from work, so as to ensure the roads all free to make their events instead of watching the fucking road they face. It is said the road: quell'insignificante something black with a white stripe (continuous or intermittent) on which to do anything but drive.
5 - an edible tampax in dotazione a tutte le lavoratrici, così non dovranno costantemente fermarsi – almeno una volta al mese – in quelle lerce aree di servizio.
6 - una Pink-box con satellitare e salvavita Beghelli per quelle sciuprinate che non sanno cambiare una ruota, ma preferiscono farsi violentare da un rumeno qualsiasi piuttosto che sporcarsi le mani…. Oddio, che distratta, questa l’hanno già inventata. Sigh!!
Morale della favola: le donne, pur di sorpassare gli uomini, vanno anche a lavorare, ma spesso preferiscono non arrivarci.
Benvenuto 9 marzo!!!
Quest’anno, infatti, diversamente dall’anno scorso – o del tutto uguale a l’anno scorso – mi sono trovata di nuovo a contare i centesimi dell’indifferenza… e, badate, non parlo di quella degli uomini; a quella, ormai ci siamo abituate. Mi riferisco infatti a quella delle donne verso le altre pari-stronze.
Che dire? Anche a questa, ahimé, ci siamo abituate, ma io pensavo che almeno per un giorno all’anno potessimo mettere da parte le nostre abituali competitiveness in favor of an argument that the status of our women "liberated" imposes. But what happened? Nothing, nothing, nicht, rien, nada de nada.
year, also in conjunction with the promotion of my book, I went to Milan. The day was unusually warm and pleasant, the women in the streets (like every day of the year) were very many, but for some reason went to all their cocks (God as they are low now!). Yes, ok, almost all held in the hand or on the lapel of his coat a sprig of mimosa, but what the fuck to do with International Women's Day? (I'm starting to scrape the ground dell'incazzatura) is not that to buy a mangy bunches of mimosa you wait for the March 8, eh?! Those who are just waiting for the March 8 men. Ensure that they never forget this festival, it was only to be expected everywhere with a sprig of acacia that to launch yet another attack on our self-esteem, presenting you with courtesy and a little foaming at the mouth to treat us like princesses. Once a year, in fact, the more sensitive they wake up one quarter of an hour before the raid the nearest bed, and then ventured into the kitchen doing unspeakable maialata clumsily disguised as "nouvelle cuisine of the fool" who then decorate a unlikely tray.
The less sensitive but are waiting for us on public transport with the same branch and the same drivel, but with something extra: a special invitation to dinner at a luxurious restaurant ... of course we declined in favor of the classic college prank among women we will shut up in some kind of local amenities to give head to the infamous stripper turn stuffed up to the ends of Viagra.
I shall not here to blame or not to make moral ed'altronde ... if your husbands were chosen on a basis other than physical ones, it is perfectly natural to look for a straw to suck at least once a year. So never mind.
What really struck me – ma a questo anch’io dovrei esserci abituata – è stata la totale assenza di voci. Milano era sì piena, ma di stronzette protese a spendere la paghetta del marito o la misera busta paga (invisibilmente decurtata di un buon 15 % rispetto agli uomini) nei negozi del centro. Per fortuna che il sindaco di Milano è una donna… perché altrimenti al posto dei musei aperti non avremmo avuto neppure quelli, ma solo il classico calcio in culo che tanto ci eccita per 364 giorni l’anno. Sì, dev’essere così, a noi la nostra condizione piace… ci piace davvero tanto. Ci piacciono le gentilezze, gli uomini che ci aprono la porta, che ci fanno regalini ogni due-per-tre, che ci mantengono. E se, santo god, every now and give us some therapeutic slap, what's the problem? So why change this status quo? If things really do not like, there armory at all points and we add to our confidence to tell. But that distracted - sorry - I had totally forgotten that we are only able to say very big bullshit.
The March 8, 2009 I think that will be remembered for the shit of our dear Carfagna proud that suit tells us that now there is a law on stalking (watch the girls also applies to you), but especially for the mega minchiatona Cosmic dell'ANML President (National Association of maimed and disabled workers) Marco Fabio Sartori on the occasion of the happy event that launched the project of tune notes.
The move was made to spin on the deplorable fate of women who die at work. The news will tell you, took me by surprise, perhaps because I can still hear the screams of those poor wretches of Tyssen or all of those beautiful boys that if they are on the scaffolding to do jobs that we label as "work to be male ... (but were not looking for equal opportunities?)
turn up their noses but I am listening ... and we do not rest until I find out that truth in the incidents of women are very inferior to those occurring to men, but that 70% of those who have had an accident was not at work, but on the way to go in the workplace.
Intermezzo spastic
No, forgive me, I did not understand the real issue here ... the accidents happening on the road?? Sorry, but what the fuck-dick-anus-vagina has to do with the deaths on the job?? I did not know that the road all'incuria participate in the employer or were complicit in the absence of fire extinguishers ...
Explanation
Since missing useless studies aimed at demonstrating the discrimination of women, has anyone thought to put the tragic and to raise the question about the mortality of women going to work, whereas men use the teleportation to make the same journey.
The phenomenon was also observed to develop - not without a ruinous outlay from taxpayers - a plan or initiatives to stem the flow. These are some suggestions: 1
- construction of parking areas Rosa, in which every wise worker may rest with the help of experienced massage therapists, hairdressers and beauticians for the holidays. Some stress must be carefully avoided!
2 - developing a new schedule of work that will provide for a reduction in favor of other highly profitable activities such as maybe the lipstick before-during and after meetings, to make a peremptory change of clothes between morning and afternoon then a nap half an hour every half hour to avoid the physiological drop of attention. God forbid we upset the wrinkles make-up!;
3 - a 70% discount on probiotic products based on omega 3, which strengthens the immune system and responses to external stimuli such as overtaking, parking and toll ... All these activities created especially for discriminating against women;
4 - two hours before the release from work, so as to ensure the roads all free to make their events instead of watching the fucking road they face. It is said the road: quell'insignificante something black with a white stripe (continuous or intermittent) on which to do anything but drive.
5 - an edible tampax in dotazione a tutte le lavoratrici, così non dovranno costantemente fermarsi – almeno una volta al mese – in quelle lerce aree di servizio.
6 - una Pink-box con satellitare e salvavita Beghelli per quelle sciuprinate che non sanno cambiare una ruota, ma preferiscono farsi violentare da un rumeno qualsiasi piuttosto che sporcarsi le mani…. Oddio, che distratta, questa l’hanno già inventata. Sigh!!
Morale della favola: le donne, pur di sorpassare gli uomini, vanno anche a lavorare, ma spesso preferiscono non arrivarci.
Benvenuto 9 marzo!!!
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