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's official, I'm DEGLOBALIZZATE. And I'm not even a little ashamed.

am a country girl, you know. Perhaps the one that was about to forget it was me, but luckily my genes have rebelled in time. "Remember where you came from" they whispered in my ears ... The DEGLOBALIZZATE it all began.
am an immigrant daughter of immigrants. Then leave it that the migration of my parents stopped at 30 km from home, a stone's throw away from their ancestral roots and so on. It was still a sea change for them. Change the region, the dialect changed, priorities changed ... It changed my life. From farmers to workers. In the countryside is nature that dictates the pace. We get up as soon as the sun comes back to star in the world that never stops running, even while you sleep. The nature sleepy ... but who said that? A spike does not stop growing just because of mica the sun sets. In the city everything is different. The company is not asking you to get up at dawn, but to be on time. Do not give a damn if you arrive half an hour too soon. The important thing is that the "ding" of the stamp means you have arrived on time, you're there. Produce for eight hours and then go home, it asks you. In return you will of which to buy bread and milk. What time you saw a rise in your hands of the farmer.
My father and mother have never been globalized. Not entirely. The "homecoming" that also took 20 minutes by car was an epochal moment, almost an escape. Living in an apartment is not easy when you are used to open the door and find yourself in front of the yard, and then fields as far as the eye can see. Although the "condominium" there are hot water and heating control that reach everywhere, raise her voice too much if all you hear, there's the neighbor who leaves open the door of the "common areas" that you insist on close, and at night the muffled sound of cars whizzing on the main road will not let you sleep. He returned home every week, a minitrasloco that began Saturday and ended Sunday evening. You are bringing all arms storage and two daughters terribly "globalized" to convert.
My sister and I were born in the city. I by chance, my sister by choice. I was born when the "migration process" was still incomplete, we were a bit 'here and a little' there waiting for my father was confirmed in the 'national power company. " I grew up in the wild, at the foot of a paesiello "six kilometers from the curves of life" that summer and winter population was 50 maybe 10 ... without children to socialize with a sprightly man of 70 who bear the title of "Grandpa" as a playmate, so my mother was afraid that the first approach with the school I attacked someone by saying phrases in Esperanto or barking at worst (as I was intimately convinced of being a dog, modern psychologists have written entire sections on my weird way to live four-legged). Then my father was confirmed, and have to change life forever. But like all children took it well. So I knew it was a temporary thing. I had to be city from Monday to Saturday, until the bell. Or from September to June, the time to stop the black apron. Then I could go back to being the same as always. Environmentally friendly to the core.
You know, time passes. Being a "social animal" mica is always a good thing. Being together with other changes you, even if you do not want. Ti "globalization." My sister and I were two strange animals for others. Do not ever attended a small parties, birthday catechism on Saturday afternoon at the cinema or the children on Sunday. "On Sundays I go to the grandfather," I would say stubborn at every call, taking away my mother the embarrassment of decline for me. There was another life, another way to pass the time. The "religion of origin" was first. My mother probably thought that he was looking for two young shoots to grow in the image he and Heidi would never have made inquiries and were on standby indefinitely ... but where the landslide could not even (which in 1978 took away half paesiello) arrived "Adolescent syndrome". A real hurricane. I started looking around and I realized that we were not the only way to live, and more ... even the best. In addition there were nights my nose in a pizzeria, maybe a few jumps in the disco on Sunday afternoon. And in summer there were seven days at sea, now affordable for everyone, even for "city of immigrants." Things that were forbidden for me, because I had to transhumance weekly in the country. Awesome. They started the first signs of revolt "globalized" timid waste type "but you could not stay home this time?" Tonight my friends go to the cinema to see "Flashdance", then real rebellion, hysterical crying, dishes full of delicacies Emilia left intact. I rubbed the campaign? What do I care to go to a place I knew as my pockets where there was no one to chatter and the hill that rose above everything and everyone in order to prevent the passage even of television ... My grandfather had lived years blissfully convinced that the door rai served to subsidize a subscription channel and had never moved the wheel tivulone tube, now fixed on the tune "14". But I knew that beyond that first round of the wheel there was something else, were the first private TV, Television and DJ ... I spent my Saturday night by swallowing tears and anger, not even the cat fusoleggiante and the thousands of posters with whom I had decked with flags from the old high-ceilinged room comfort me. Up when I touched the supreme test. Give up the film "Lady Oscar" broadcast on Christmas Eve on Italy A, and the year after the mandate of Duran Duran in concert "recorded live" always on the channel you want. It was too much even for me, fourteen year old nerd with a few more reasonable and crickets for the head. I had to come back from my mates and to their question, "Have you seen them ????? Oddiomioquantoeranofichi, true that you have them ??????" vistiiiiiiii I would have to answer for the umpteenth time "no, I was in my grandparents' house" cashing their astonished gaze, and the obvious question ... "Well, but you could not stay at home?"
And I wanted to stay home. My house. The one with the radiators, hot water, the road traffic, lights, noise, supermarket, pizza take-away, the world just a click away. I do not care about anything else. I wanted to go to the beach in the summer like everyone else, and not spend three months buried alive in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to send postcards from all over the globe and not the usual note to buy tobacco, which together with other four shops was "the city" of that paesucolo slow as a suburb of Mexico at two in the afternoon. I am prevented from living but I would have fought, and I checked.
My grandfather was on my side unconditionally. "I was young I too - told me with bright eyes - and I wanted to have fun, just like you." Uncomfortable played the role of mediator between the generations and each so he could get some concessions from his iron daughter to me. He did not want to marry the life that he too loved her for strength. Perhaps in his heart he knew that sooner or later I would have chosen herself with every fiber of my being, because he was a wise man. He knew to wait.
Now I'm old. I adapted to "fast living", I consider it a tax, a necessary annoyance. Hasten the pace even when not in use, breaking the record of the "flying kilometer" slalomeggiando with the cart between-nothing who spend their free time at the "mall", hardly bear the strain of modern life and its lack of "limits" I admit that you are gadgets that make us even when we could not be reached and being bombarded by information of all kinds and generally useless. I'm old, so says the ID card, my bones creaking, the way I grow damp eyes when my car facing the last corner and looked cross the road sign. Above all, the mind, thinking "I'm home." At
paesiello I go when I can. "I'm visiting my" mellifluous announcement to colleagues who ask me "go away for the Bridge anyone?" and sometimes even to her friends on the web. I'm visiting my family, the house is no longer what it used to, but the place is quiet and if she gets the look just right you can see the hills. I go there armed with tools model housekeeper even though I know there is very little to clean than a little 'dry leaf powder and a few pulled from the wind. And of scale, because to my loved watching the scenery. Adjust the compositions of dried flowers better than I can even if the ikebana is not my forte, always greeting aloud before I go, I know that the little old ladies present is not offended by some. And then I go for a ride in "center."
few years the mayor has thoughts of megacities. The fountain, the round ... even the supermarket. But I have very different goals. A few hours of life "slow"
Before the arcades. The old Grand Café, the goldsmith shop where brands such as "Guess" or "Vattelapesca" do not care, the bakery. I can not resist and up to buy a loaf, made very little pret a porter in a world of "all the bread and sandwiches, a world in which sliced bread is a wasted effort. I get excited because the baker still recognize me, and before bursting into tears the next step destination, dairy. For thirty years in this closet that still exudes the same smell, a mixture of cream, stale, sweet anise, better not ask what else. What do I care? Within two minutes I'm out and I regained another piece of life. The old mill no longer works for years otherwise a couple of pounds of freshly ground flour is not me no one would stand them. And then a handful of buttons in haberdashery, look through store window "Scarpeborsecappellicinture" that the selected "flagship" he cheerfully impipa ... You can live without the Benetton at hand, I think. Fusion without food, without grills. Without those horrible places that sell cups of fruits already reduced to small cubes (miracolo. ..) as it was the last step forward in science facedola pay their weight in gold ... Without exaggeration, no traffic lights!
turn the machine with a heavy heart and in the meantime I think of that girl furious that he yearned to her place in the "globalized world". I could exchange a few words with her now, she hoped to expand the horizons of his universe, so I would limit a bit 'than mine, because I realize that I do not care to know that time Singapore do not know what happens when ten minutes from my house. In this world too much fear of getting lost, to forget who I am, where I come from. How can I attack with tradition, I tell myself that I do not reject the new, but the absurd (try to explain to a senior who eat with their hands = finger food so celebrated in the happy hour is from modern ... =) but will then true? They are retrograde? I'm dumb, I am opposed to progress? I follow an idea of life that no longer exists, silly, slow, closed to the news?
I do not know what life was. I just know it was mine.

Mature British Women With Boots

saricious @ 2009-11-29T19: 15:00


Sophia Bush 001 to 004
Jared Padalecki (The Christmas Cottage) 005-007
Rory Gilmore / Dean Forester 008-009 010-019
Jessica Lowndes



Sophia Bush 001 to 004



Jared Padalecki (The Christmas Cottage) 005-007



Rory Gilmore / Dean Forester 008 to 009



Jessica Lowndes 010-019

Hillsborough Brazilian Waxing

saricious @ 2009-11-29T17: 46:00

Welcome to my Livejournal, which are centuries tried to do it but to no avail, I could never complete it, or write to them because they are not practical livejournal XD I now present to all

Sara, sixteen, was born in Naples on March 23. Sara is a person who easily mixes with people, is very stubborn and proud, modest and sometimes even if you do not admit it, unfortunately ram, a fire sign and always wants the best. E 'moody, at times especially when the killing would be long periods of nostalgia and confusion due to its lunatic, coherent, mature, perpetually dissatisfied and nervous, but once entered into his heart can give a lot of tenderness and sweetness. It 'an impatient person, acting always in a hurry, and often this is plea its failures, is loyal to her friendships are very important but does not accept betrayal, if this happens prefer cutting without second thoughts or regrets, starting from scratch. He has no friends, only acquaintances, no one is particularly entered into his heart, sadly most of the people who live in the city are all bimbominchia, all so immature, superficial, and that stick only to things that are fashionable, unfortunately, knows that is a handicap but does not trust its people especially, can not bind that much, but mostly not satisfied with the friendship of some begging bimbominchia any. He does not know exactly what his favorite color, but he knows his numbers Preferred are 3 to 23, and especially his favorite song of all is Angels by Robbie Williams, the first song that made you feel the first chill. He attended the third year of high school address accountant programmer. Would like to study medicine, but unfortunately it takes a good knowledge of Latin and Latin, and especially Sara hates hates school, is close to the graphics and photoshop about two years ago and since then has never ceased to graphics, there are few things and those that do want to be the best, except of course where a school is content simply because they do not believe in the sufficiency of the school, believes that teachers are just people who can turn them in its own way and need and especially that with a degree of some just will not find a job.

Ama
Sara loves frankly, loves the rain, but at the same time, even in fine weather. He loves music, music for all she is beautiful even though she prefers the kind rock / punk. She loves to get lost in the words of the songs he loves or that they reflect, loves to read those beautiful romantic stories where finally she finds her prince charming that will help them to hope for a better world away from this great nightmare known as Life, He loves to listen to the music makes you feel better, love those beautiful winter nights while sleeping under warm blankets, makes her feel pampered, likes helping people in difficulty although very often it is never reciprocated, love and finally hope that one day will find her prince charming on the big white horse that will last the distance. Love the graphics, Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, Supernatural loves fucking and loves his characters Sam and Dean Winchester precisely interpreted by Jared and Jensen. Sophia Bush strangely loves, dreams that she will join the cast of the supernatural and life in Winchester especially that of Sam, why would the perfect couple.


Sara hates hates Who pulls in an exaggerated way, who says he hates to love and appreciate a particular song when you do not even understand the true meaning, bimbominchia hates, hates established by the fashion people and people who judge only the physical aspect of the person, hate vain people, he hates those who do not even have a shred of musical culture. He hates those who always hangs cocks of others, hates people who take the piss, taking hate when those periods of loneliness and melancholy. He hates those days which seem endless, hate Zac Efron and his band of bimbominkia Disney's hate Rihanna.

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the customer is always right

"Madam I would have signed the documentation really do get it back in a reasonable time ..."
"You must change your attitude! You do not understand nothing! I do these things with her do not argue, I discuss the most with the Director-General
The old witch told me this morning at 10. ... I'm still counting
diecimilioniottocentocinquemilaseicentodue, diecimilioniottocentocinquemilaseicentotre, diecimilioniottocentocinquemilaseicentoquattro
... But better if I register for a course of kick boxing ...

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children remains

Many years yesterday, a Sunday evening as many
November 23, the numbness of valley fog in the bones and the consolation of being able to enjoy a few hours of freedom before terrribile "Monday morning ..."
I was 9 years old. Now I would be almost ready for marriage, with the rhythms frightening growth that denote the "youth of today" ... but I am a young man the other day and I was 9 years little more than a naive little girl and ready to ravish every thing ... Even for a new pair of slippers.
me Mom had just given away. A gift like this, "free", not for a birthday or to vote at school. At the time our students we were not "paid" ... as a gift to replace my old slippers undone by too many "slips" on the polished floor and everyday wear. The slippers were pretty new, hot, pretty ... I was sitting on the couch and as I gazed at a plover feet, pay the wish fulfilled, and the quiet calm that reigned in the house with the little family gathered in front of the TV watching I do not know which broadcast in the evening. The tickle Christmas was ready to explode from the window I could just feel the glow of first light lit garlands in the street. I felt like a princess.
Then, abrupt. And that hateful advisable, news that strange institution during the week forced me to fight with my father the sacred vision of the cartoons in the evening ... The screeching sound and the sense of anticipation because "there is now the news" and the word "edition unbeatable, "alone capable of generating anxiety dark, because if they do so is never to tell something beautiful ...
The earthquake in Irpinia. Strong, very strong ... It was not like now, the news did not travel so fast. But then there were a myriad of television and news broadcasts, there was only the Rai and Rai was already there, ready to show the hell. Houses crumbled, dust and smoke everywhere. The terrified faces of first responders, the faces of the few desperate survivors. It did not seem even to Italy, what we showed in the old scratchy black and white picture tube. But the Apocalypse. He began
the heart to beat wildly. We looked stunned, frozen ... The fear of that thing huge and pitiless, the "earthquake" that can go where he wants and cares of all, come to get you right in the place where you think you are safe at home ... The eyes clouded by so much ugliness came to rest on my new slippers. So cute and so unnecessary. All of a sudden, I felt shame for what I had. Because I knew that somewhere there was a little girl like me, who had just lost everything. And I had no way to help ... I remember I got up without saying anything and went to put my slippers in the box. I put the old ones and worn out and went quietly and with a heavy heart to observe the carnage. "They will cool - I thought - where to sleep tonight?" What I wanted to pack up those slippers and a gift to someone more cold to me ... Divide the dinner ready on the table, split the blanket. Instead I could only watch, helpless.

I think about every year, on time. I think of that little girl without malice and his granny slippers. What was naive and idealistic. Then I look in the mirror and I realize that all things are still true. An old girl who wants to feed all the hungry, take all the abandoned pets, defend the weak and impose pacisque mores, parks subiectis et eradicate superbos .... But that is another story ... They are thin

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italiano_nsk @ 2009-11-12T12: 46:00

Hello everyone!

The Italian and 'my third language (after English and French), and I only studied for a year. I am a true fanatic of this beautiful language! MOREOVER I love the work (an extra reason to love the Italian language)!

I visited Italy a year ago, and I liked Venice, Florence, Rome, Bari and Matera.
But I have a problem: I'm dmenticando language ... For this reason I want to know if there are any courses in the language Nsk?

Thanks for the information!

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is official I



in general management. 20 minutes curled up on the mat "I e" all'avvocatone that unravels for us quisquiglie pinzillacchere and legal and paralegal.
The Directorate General is as Olympus, we ... Do not you sweat in direction, not age. The two girls who deal with "any other business" as nimble maidens dancing around the desks, the air scent "eaudiqualcosa" certainly very expensive ... the kettle, FORBIDDEN elsewhere hums cheerfully announcing that water for tea "Detox" is ready ...
When ...
SUDDENLY ...
strictly from the office with opaque glass door, quiet as an Apache merchandise out the carpet "ILDIRETTORE. Forward
safe to us, I s'infonde a tremor from head to foot, I'm still one of those who saw the director immediately feels at fault. His haughty look "sweep" the executive secretary, "nongiovanemaprocace", pet "segreterialegale" in the person of blonde R randomly from behind ... And then he passes from side to side sicut were transparent without any delay.
E. .. E. .. hardly hold back the cries of joy and dance like a dervish ...
is official
ARE LEAN

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pumpkins? Only in the oven ...

"Hallowind (mobile?)
" Halloway "(Um Orzowei?)
" Hallow "(Playstation?)

The most fanciful ' Halloween "Italian style" I think this is. The pleasant variety of crippling "which submits the name of this" traditional festival of the other "that we taken at home.
We are a nation of magpies, no doubt about it. When something glitters, that there must be seized. If patience is a fund of the bottle to us "us" like the same. If there is to celebrate and then uproar, we are in our natural element. Saints, sailors and caciaroni.
not remember ever having heard of Halloween in my childhood happy. Or maybe yes, even on TV. An episode of "Little House on the Prairie" in which the two sisters Engalls if they came out one evening with their bag of canvas to make light of homemade cakes and biscuits ... I still remember the tone "mammachepaura" of bet, with a lot of misunderstanding on the part of the initial poor Mr. Oleson, mistaken for a wife-murder. Distant past in which the feast of the witches was only "one American holiday." And we did do the Carnival. And costumes from Zorro, "little Indian" princess fairy Pinocchio Marianna of Sandokan and so on.
But then you know, globalization. News travels fast, keep in contact and several bales. And no one knows how, you find yourself "in the American home." Supermarkets are full of gourds (those that once the sorting is not chosen because just empty) and chocolate sold at two cents, witch hats everywhere, and already we have fireworks and confetti (local contamination). The shift Gramps scratches his hat and mutters, "but that's not the carnival ...) and he's right ... but how to explain it to them now that Gramps is "allouin?" Yes
Mica because we have taken the trouble to understand what the hell is this under "allouin ... If it is a traditional festival, which is tradition? Nobody knows. Yes, Open Studio has also tried to acculturate the people interviewing "the man in the street but more than a few "got to do the Celts" we did not go. We dell'allouin ABC, but expected to go down and see the darkness ... I'll see
oh if I saw it. I live in a
paesucolo. A dormitory is precisely where you sleep at night after drudgery. The people barely say hello and erects towering hedges model "I've got more altopiùbellopiùlungo" to protect their privacy, combing the grass in the garden and goes on balconies The polisher also the envy of the close. But then dispose of the waste paper in the street because so much "it's not mine."
But on the evening of "allouin" we are all friends and cronies. The "neighborhood" (be right?) Is made under, and here at dusk, is part of the hunt .. what? Trick or treat, as saying "Bumba or the spring cabbages are your ..." The University of extortionists knocks on your door.
are many. A lot. All the same, replicating the young couple "streghettamaghetto. Not reach 40 cm in height, but are hungry. The finger on the bell, and is not playing once, and if no one opens, thank you anyway and see you. No. On the little finger dimenicano on the bell until you, unfortunate that at 8 o'clock on Saturday evening you are in your pajamas, do not you decide to open. Who cares if you can not, if you're in the shower, if you're mounting the snow to clear, if you have fever or six of 40 at the height of a sex crazy. No, you should open. You can not disappoint the children. Why is allouin.
behind them, "the elders of the tribe." Tens (two or three of each) of parents screaming, squawking, ridicule. Pile up at your gate delighted by their children masked at all points, taking pictures (in the dark ...) and howls "on children, what tell the lady? "(that would be me ...)
" Dolcettoscherzetto "Apart from the howling on command, try closing the door and you're dead ...
Reluctantly along the driveway, and I think with satisfaction in that box of chocolates in the basket of Christmas last year that, after measuring my waistline I piously left intact ... I look and I tell myself that at least two years usually last ... Okay, we'll know soon. I timidly approached and I think they should be so timid, the barbarians ... That surround me instead drawing his baskets and purses signed grinding his teeth and shouting "give me, give me .." A few mischievous of the neighborhood is the tail twice, we see immediately who will flock into the street ... Pag lace and while I watch them, and stored in a hot and sweaty night when even a shot would come out on the street, with the moisture that is cut with a knife, and the thermometer down ... I look at their adult relatives (which I suspect only expect to put babies to bed to get hold of the booty) and reflect the services alarmist about swine flu. Probably on Monday to avoid the contagion will accurately their children home from school, you know ... Some gatherings are perilous ... Others, who cares ...
smile hiding his fangs while the cannibals do without hello have even uttered a "thank you" (but you know, is not fashionable to Allouin) and leave full of sweet, in spite of obesity. Patience will be the anorexic tomorrow.
And I think that we are worthy sons of our time. We eat eggs from hens kept in cages that have never seen a blade of grass. Children grow up in the battery and start to stun small dressing them all alike, and depriving them of the holy right to use their imagination to have fun.

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tired


I'm tired so tired so tired

hurt me even hair
ops maybe because I have not washed ...
In fact I left the office who had only seven (pm) after having entered that it was not yet 7:45 (am) ... even 12 hours, Such A Shame ... Thank goodness I stuck the head on the door and kept me there a little '... Thanks boss

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The early bird catches the worm

8.30 am
room 237 (was that?)
work from even 60 seconds and already the day comes chaotic, frantic, ica ica ica
Nell ' Office erupts fantasupermegagalattico the DG and, after a look alter comments, "is fighting the weak, eh?"
...
What to do in these cases?
a) waver
b) Smile and nod convinced
c) Adjust the wonderbra (for those who have it)
d) Take the cat o 'nine tails and
) Tacere thinking with pleasure the day when we shall resign before him
f ) take up the AK 47 which is held under the desk and carefully spupazzarselo to earn a place on the front pages and cool


's almost two and still have not decided ...

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mamma mia

If this thing is hard, as I almost returned the faccialibro that is at ... er all

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italiano_nsk @ 2009-08-15T21: 40:00

You must be ready to burn in your flame: what it 'can be renewed without first become ashes? Cosi 'speak' Zarathustra.

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Here is Camilla and Isolde!

I was sure that Priscilla would not have left alone for long. I think that when an animal dies, they send another in his place. Priscilla, being a dog with a boundless love, has sent two.
The story begins in Sicily where, as we know, the problem of stray dogs is very serious, so much to lead raids against animals which have the guilt of trying to survive (I would raid them against those who abandon them and against those who do not handle situations like that). A dog bit a 'bitch and stray swan on the beach. The dog, however, is not only a whore but also has some insight, because it is close to a person on holiday and it seems desperately seeking his attention, not to mention to leave. Why, you ask, with some insight? Because the person in question is voluntary in a small kennel in Tuscany. Because bitch, you always ask? Why not just the dog realizes he could really trust, the exhibition at the nine puppies born to a couple of months. Result: the dog (who has had Priscilla as a guardian angel, or who has appealed to the instinct of survival of the typical mutt) was able not only to be taken by voluntary, but also to find accommodation for all its nine puppies!
My in-laws, who had died since Priscilla had two sad souls in pain, I have taken two, two girls sweet and delicious, and they flourish.
Here they are: Camilla
; and Isolde

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Hello, Priscilla.

few days ago I had to say goodbye to Priscilla. Many of you have known and knew it was a wonderful dog, the best a man (or woman) may be desired. Unfortunately, for months now, the dog that accompanied my feet for 13 long years had been nothing but a shadow. Forced to wear diapers, with the hind legs gave way at every step that she had lost her joie de vivre. Maybe I should have taken before the decision to put her to sleep, but my in-law loved it so much that point, conscious of giving them a huge pain. A large tumor pressing made the final decision, but in a sense I have blessed, because his life was no longer decent and I knew, I felt that she could not understand why no longer able to run, and had no joy.

I still remember the day my mother brought me home (I lived with my own yet): my dog had died from one day to Gwendolyn, and she has appeared, lost by two days the station. I am sure that your Gwendolyn Priscilla has put in my way: soft white, three blacks shot to the ear and belly pink and fragrant.

Priscilla you been a dog happy have been run in the nature in his youth for playing fields, free, by nature, horses and other dogs. during ripening was always with me in the store and in old age has found in my husband's family who adored her and who have spoiled and pampered all the time. He could swim in the sea, running in the mountains, raising two cats and also understand the love of his life (a black Newfoundland named Gas), even if he never had a litter.

He was loved by everyone, including people who do not like dogs. Why is Priscilla was pure love.

I took me to the vet, and gently fell asleep in my arms. For the first time in his life, has done stories about to enter, as if he knew exactly where we were going. It 's so strange contact with death. Every time I get in front of the corpse of someone who I loved, be it people or animals, I had the feeling of being faced with a simple bag, an old garment. It 's always the case, but instead of making me think at the end makes me feel even more the existence of that we call soul.

Now, I am sure, Priscilla'll be happy running again, along with Gwendolyn, fast, carefree, as he liked to do. It will always be in my heart. Hello Priscilla, watches over me.

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Valentine's Day gifts can


Today is Valentine's Day. When I was a teenager I was hoping that next year I celebrated it with a guy in a romantic. Obviously, since I was a mix between the female version of a nerd and a crazy psychopathic (and frequent, particularly but not least, a girls' school), the years went by without scenes from the book Harmony on the horizon that did not come from my imagination. The days pass, the Valentine's Day have followed (many) but I no longer excited before the windows filled with hearts or phrases that most commercial romantic. I like this day is celebrated more as in Japan (with the girls give chocolate to children even if they are not together) and in America, where do you send the Candy Gram, a kind of heart-shaped cards with a little bag with chocolate, to all persons for whom you care.
If you read this post, you know that there's good I want a lot, and this is my ticket to you (consider it a Candy Gram also no candy or chocolate):



I found this online ticket dark for Valentine's Day, inspired by the film Ring (film that just terrified me at the time). Ie: how well can make the film Ring:




Tonight, me and the holy man of my husband go out to dinner. Let's say we take advantage of Valentine's Day dinner a bit to give yourself a 'most elegant of the usual pizza or Chinese, since we are always on a budget. We do not presents but we grant the Indian restaurant, which besides being very good for us also has a special meaning.
Since giving up the gift Valentine's Day gifts are even more happy that I've received lately. The first one I received from my pu (serendipityhope, frappu and midsummer) and is so beautiful that all I do is wear it: a necklace and a bracelet of silver and mother of pearl can thanks!



The other gift I received from my mother, that my birthday and I had not done anything that brought me something I were chosen because of Yamamay. I took a pair of pajamas: it is soft, glides like a caress and color of chocolate. Here it is: