Does Bonjela Help Abscsess

Potato Women

If there is one thing that makes me angry, is when by good intentions - already rare in itself - horrific monsters are born. Seeing things inevitably go to hell gives me no confidence in humanity that it would take a flamethrower and destroy all the sperm banks before starting to spend all to the sword, to avoid any chance of playing.
'm so pissed that I will use the upper case. PERDINCIBACCO.

probably remember, as the tom-toms, the documentary " women's bodies," a collage of images captured by the unforgiving Italian television that the authors have shown that television viewing (or anyone else for them) of women : suiniche, prone, plus, flawed, fake, submissive.
I do not watch tv really more like 3 years, because in college there, and clearly do not I miss it (the sky subscription I was terminated years earlier, the lack of what I'd heard maybe), but I figured that was the road taken.
As a TV like that I do not like (there are other places to look for the chick in electronic format, and an Internet connection does not cost that much), I was fine the initiative, the "new look" which is to account for how things are .
The documentary was released on the blog kept by the lady who fitted the same (Lorella Zanardo). At the first sign of ladies who sing the praises of the Holy Inquisition for the men, Mrs. - proving intelligent - has invited the world to insist sull'autocritica first female, about why, for example. if a company with 100 managers, there are two women managers, they will become more competitive among themselves and with the 98 male managers (you know very well that it is so)
So, until a clever authorities kept watch on the discussions as moderator, things went quite well and also the debate was likely to be fertile.
Then, the irreparable has happened. The blog has opened a forum giving all / And the chance to say what they wanted. And there, at that moment, everything went to hell. Look
Board Index:

Search commercials that offend the image of the woman is treated as a reflection on the body of the woman and the male as the male is the female. NO-CLOTH-OF-A-FUCKED-self-criticism.
Here, I turn to the women: if you continue to seek out the problem you are always back to square one, because the big problem is within you. Because most of the time a woman has to say another woman is a bitch? because when someone talks about a beautiful girl, these girls feel compelled to add "Yes, but has thick ankles" (sic)? because when men are talking about conversations clearly bar beautiful women (fiction movie, not reality), I felt compelled to intervene to impose a model of woman like you? Then omit those who argue that the woman is less than men on issues such physical force, only to hear his macho guy, whose member evidently struggling to authorized without these injections of confidence ...

The monster is inside you, and not up to us to eradicate it, also because we would be able to. Sure, there's a good percentage of men assholes butt of consumer jokes that the girls with a little cellulite (= all?), Which give the bitch to those who fuck on the first date, etc etc. And you know, you should thank them, because we realize at once that are morons: avoid it. Help incredible. Do not waste it.
Well, I have to read this forum where the problem is male, as if we were male universal suffrage vote for what the woman we want on TV, or what percentage of balls to be there in the morning latte and newspaper. Ah, behold, the magazines: Playboy because attacking a newspaper that has openly tits, and ignore all the monthly women's fashion? Have you ever browsed? There is more nudity and more models tossicoeteree there and in a party at the Dolce and Gabbana (leaving aside monthly as Men's Health and related to me because they are addressed to an audience covertly gay. I do not know you, I would not buy a magazine with a sweaty gym on the cover). So who is to propagate and anorexic models wear clothes designed for perfect physical by sadists? A woman like me full, with curves, (disclaimer: I only like Ilaria h) and then Turn your pitchforks away. Possibly to yourself. How many girls sharing a pizza at a pizzeria to avoid gaining weight? many. And how many of these would really need to do such a thing? almost zero. So where is the problem? maybe you look bad when you eat a whole pizza? I do feel under pressure? I do not think at all. I'm your and only your paranoia, and do not try to pull us into play only because the morons creams girls depending on size. Another way to avoid them. Or, when you post the results of your diet, you cut reached such status, believe that there are crowds of men to say "hey look at that! has a 38! how I would be her prince charming"? the answer is NO, you do just the same for yourselves. Do not try to blame us.

I read the subtitle of the section on men because I feel the anger subside:

We offer a lot of men friends who follow us a great chance: to put into question, question, confront each other and with us women.

Ah, here she comes back, "WE" as a sacrifice, "a great opportunity," what an honor, Your Grace, "By questioning COMPARISON Them, "I am moved lordship, wants to lick the heel 12 to express joy? Bent on trampling? Mylady Oh, the mere fact of possessing a potato makes you so superior. Surely you can not be that bad.

Here you can see that the omelet was completely turned over. Now is our problem, we who must sit on the wooden chairs in a circle, hold hands and say our names one by one saluting, and eventually pick up a pin of participation . Well, fuck, this is tirarsela levels by vomiting, and I find it deeply offensive. Until you recognize your mistakes do not see how deep you can impose on others to rethink their own.
Among other things, as it turned in, the board was immediately filled with inquisitive that they want the male to the stake (module turns of phrase), faux intellectuals who want us reason - because we know we are in the grip hormone, are beasts, they are those very rational - and finally the serfs , those shellfish that give them reason to scrap them anyway hoping that half inch of hair after fucking those who think (rightly) and the illusion that "oh there's a part of the male gender that always gives us reason coccoliamolo and let them all become so". There was a very smart user, Pandora, but obviously his opinions were too smart for the average so sooner or later have silenced attacking continuously until exhaustion. Justice done.
a good purpose, and is already over, dead, decomposed, did not last even six months.

time ago I planned to do a monthly column in which I spoke of great women, to give a vague support to the cause. Now that I see how things are, the cocks that I do. Arrangiatevi. Long live the carefree.

I realize that this is a chaotic post and without a good way, but I did indeed shoot the balls. Can you update a clear mind.

Happy 3rd Birthday Invitation Word

What does La Russa for "X-MAS"

I have a little 'sparse Christmas reflections:

• shoot the single repetition of Giusy Ferreri fucked in all stores is a strategy that does not work on me, just makes me think, "I said no! DO NOT BUY THE FUCK DISCO, HOUR TURN OFF THE dirge"
• for some reason which is sold under the intimate home should be decorated with strictly 24 square meters of lace disgusting, or not smosciano erections and the risk is someone to have fun instead of celebrating Christmas
• even dogs know unwrapped gifts, and can identify a sausage wrapped in a half tons of scented candles and bottles of aftershave
• Christmas without relatives than first degree is not so bad, at least I do not greet anyone, I must not fool anyone, I must not show my surprise opening round box of Lindt chocolates with hazelnut filling (to me gianduja sucks )
• in Terroni (at least in Bari say, come on), they make barrels at Christmas, a species beta testing for the New Year I suppose
• gobies (in Venetian GOI) are no longer almost anywhere. I remember as a small them caught in the canals of Burano, then gradually if not, he draws more and I felt guilty because I think I did pay off. Now they're really fear dying. Farewell to the best seafood risotto of the earth (
• with the last Christmas gifts for my brother, the shelf in the bathroom now seems a little altar of Playboy - just full of cosmetics, engraved with the bunny instead of balls (FAIL)
  
• Ilaria has something like 25 different rolls of wrapping paper, and I look yet.
  

That said, good nose. Enjoy

What Is The Difference With Turbo Hair

I'm wondering: which does fuel Hitler's car use? maybe gas?

report here a novel by Bukowski that I discovered recently criticized (quite inexplicably) in the Italian editions . Differs enough from the typical Bukowski.

Swastika

Charles Bukowski

The President of the United States of America entered in the car, surrounded by officers. He sat in the back seat. It was a morning dark and anonymous. No one spoke. Spun away, and the tires were felt on the street still wet from rain the night before. The silence was very strange, as it had ever been before.

went for a little 'and at one point, the Chairman said

"Look, this is not the way to the airport."

His agents did not respond. It had been planned a vacation. Two weeks at his private residence. The plane was waiting at the airport.

began to drizzle. It seemed that it rains again. The men, including the President, dressed in heavy coats, hats, all This made it seem packed the car. Outside was a cold wind and persistent.

"Driver," the President said, "I think it's going to the wrong direction."

The driver did not answer. The other officers stared straight ahead.

"Listen," said the President, "will somebody tell that man the way to the airport?".

"We do not go to the airport," said the agent to the left of the President.

"We're not going to the airport?" Asked the President.

The agents were indifferent. The drizzle became rain. The driver turned the windshield wipers.

"Look, what is it?" Asked the President. "What's going on here?"

"It's raining for weeks," said the agent next to the driver. "Depressed. As I will be glad to see a bit ' of sunshine. "

" Certainly, too, "said the driver.

"There's something wrong," said the President, "I demand to know ..."

"You're no longer in a position to demand," said l ' agent to the right of the President.

"You mean ...?"

"We want to say," said the agent.

"It's a murder?" Asked the President.

"Come on ... is out of fashion."

"And then what ..."

"Please. We have orders not to discuss anything. "

drove for some hours. It continued to rain. No one spoke.

"Now," the policeman said to the left of the President, "do another lap, and then carried inside. So we will not be followed. The rain has been of great help. "

Self sketched the area suggested, then turn onto a small dirt road. It was very muddy and the tires every so often turned, slipped, then were taken back and the car proceeded. A man in a yellow raincoat, holding a torch, they went inside an open garage. It was an isolated area, with lots of trees. To the left of the garage was a small country house. The agents opened the doors.

'Out, "the President said. The President did so. The officials were cautiously around the President, although there were miles to be human, except the man with the torch and raincoat yellow.

"I do not see why we could not settle the matter here," said the man with the yellow raincoat. "It certainly seems much riskier the way."

'orders, "said one of the agents. "You know how it is. He has always acted on intuition. And so now, more than ever. "

" It is very cold. Do you have time for a cup of coffee? It's ready. "

" Very good of you. It's been a long journey. I assume the other car is ready. "

" Sure. It was checked again and again. However, we have ten minutes early on program. That's why I suggested coffee. You know how he is about precision. "

" OK then, let's go. "

entered the house, taking great care with the President between them.

"You sit there," said one of the agents to the President.

"It's just coffee," said the man with the yellow raincoat, "ground by hand."

He walked around with the pot. He poured one for himself, then sat down, still wearing the yellow raincoat and cap thrown on the stove.

"Oh, really good," said one of the agents.

"Cream and sugar?" Asked another to the President.

"Okay," said ...

There was not much room in the old car but they managed to enter with the President again in the back seat ... The old car was delayed in large holes and mud, but managed to get back on the road. Again, it was mostly a silent journey. One of the agents he lit a cigarette.

"Damn, I just can not stop!"

"Well, it's hard, that's all. Do not worry. "

" I'm not worried. Just disgusted. "

" Look, forget all that. This is a great day in History. "

"Here I am," said the one with the cigarette.

Then he inhaled ...

parked outside an old board. It continued to rain. They stood there for a while.

"Now," said the agent next to the driver, "get him out. It is clear. Nobody on the streets.

walked the President in the midst of them, first through the door entrance, then up three flights of stairs, still holding the President in their midst. They stopped and knocked at 306. The signal: stop, pause, three beats, pause, two bars ...

The door was opened and the men drove into the President. The door was then locked and bolted. Three men were waiting inside. Two were in their late fifties. The other was wearing a shirt from old laborer, second-hand trousers were too large and ten dollar shoes scuffed and dirty. He sat in the middle of the room on a rocking chair. He was in his eighty years, he was smiling ... and her eyes were the same, nose, chin, forehead had not changed much.

"Welcome, Mr. President. I waited a long history, the Science and You, and all arrived on schedule today ... "

The President looked at the old man in the rocking chair. "My God! You are ... you are ... "

" I have recognized you! Others of your fellow citizens have joked about the similarity! Too stupid to realize that I was ... "

" But it was proven that ... "

"Of course it was proven. The bunker: April 30, 1945. We wanted it. I was patient. Science was with us but at times I had to speed up the story. We wanted the right man. You're the right man. It was impossible for the other - too far from my political philosophy ... you are the right choice. Working through you it will be easier but as I told you I was speeding a bit 'the path of history ... my age ... I had ... "

" You mean ...?

"Yes, I did kill your president Kennedy. And then, his brother ... "

" But because the second assassination? "

" We had information that the man would win the presidential election. "

"What will you do to me? I was told that I would have killed ... "

" May I introduce Drs Graf and Voelker?

The two men greeted the president with a nod and smile.

"But then what happens?" Asked the President.

"Just a moment. Should I ask my men, Karl, what happened with The Double?

"Well. We phoned the farm. The Double arrived at the airport as planned. The Double announced that due to weather conditions, the flight was canceled until the next day. He then announced that he would take a car that ... like being driven about in the rain ... "

" And then? "asked the old man.

"The Double is dead."

"Well. Go ahead. History and Science have arrived on time. "

agents began walking the President to one of two operating tables. They told him to undress. The old man walked to another table. The doctors and Voelker Graf wore gowns and prepared for the job ...

younger-looking man got up from one of two operating tables. He dressed in the clothes of the president, then walked to the large mirror on the wall to the north. He stood for a good five minutes. Then he turned.

"Miraculous! Not even a scar ... no rehabilitation. Congratulations, gentlemen! How are you doing? "

" Yes, Adolf, "said one of the doctors," we did a long way since .... "

"Wait! I never want to hear the name Adolf ... until the proper time, until I say so! ... Until then, there will be no German ... NOW is the President of the United States of America! "

"Yes, Sir!"

Then he touched his upper lip:

"I miss the old mustache."

smiled.

Then he asked:

"And the old man?".

"We put him to bed. Do not wake up for twenty-four hours. Right now ... everything ... all the evidence of the operation have been destroyed, dissolved. All we have to do is get out of here, "said Dr. Graf. "But ... Mr. President, this man ... I'd suggest ..."

"No, I tell you, is helpless! Let him suffer as I have suffered, "

went to the bed and looked at the man. An eighty years old with white hair.

"Tomorrow I'll be at his private residence. I wonder how his wife will enjoy the way I make love. "He chuckled.

"I'm sure, mein Führer ... oh, excuse me! I am sure, Mr President, who will love her way of making love. "

"Let us leave this place, then. Before the doctors on their way. Then we ... one or two at a time ... a group of cars, then a good sleep at the White House. "

The old man with white hair rose. He was alone in the room. He could escape. He got out of bed in search of his clothing and as he crossed the room he saw an old man in a mirror.

No, he thought, oh my god, no!

raised an arm. The old man raised his arm in the mirror. He moved forward. The old man in the mirror enlarged. He looked at his hands - wrinkled, and not his hands! He looked at his feet! They were not his feet! It was not his body!

"My God," he said aloud. "OH MY GOD!"

Then he heard his voice. Even the voice was his. They also transferred the voice. He touched his throat, his head. No scars! No scars anywhere. He put the old clothes and went downstairs. He knocked the first door was marked "Proprietary".

The door opened. An elderly woman.

"Yes, Mr. Tilson? Asked.

"Mr. Tilson? Madam, I am the President of the United States of America! It's an emergency! "

" Oh, Mr. Tilson, you're so funny! "

" Listen, where's the phone? "

"That's where he always was, Mr. Tilson, the right of the door."

He felt in his pockets. They had left a few coins. He looked in his wallet. Eighteen dollars. He put a dime into the phone.

"Lady, what is the address here?"

"Mr. Tilson, you KNOW the address. You've lived here for years! You're acting very strange today, Mr. Tilson. And I will tell you more! "

"Yes, yes ... what?"

"I remind you that the rent is due today!"

"Oh, lady, please tell me the address! "

" As if did not know! You 2435 Shoreham Drive. "

" Yes, "he said on the phone," taxi? I want a taxi at 2435 Shoreham Drive. Waiting on the first plan. My name? My name? Okay, my name is ... Tilson. "

is useless to go to the White House, he thought, I'll have that covered ... the largest newspaper. I tell her. I'll tell them. Everything that has happened ...

The other patients laughed at him. "See that guy? That is a bit like 'that guy, that dictator, comesichiama, only much older. However, when he came here a month ago, claimed to be the President of the United States of America. That was a month ago. He does not say much more. But he sure likes to read the newspaper. I've never seen someone so eager to read a newspaper. It must be said that they will be about politics, though. I think that is what drove him crazy. Too much politics. "

rang the dinner bell. All patients responded. Except one.

A nurse walked up to him.

"Mr. Tilson?

There was no answer.

"Mr. Tilson,"

"Oh ... yes?"

"It's time for dinner, Mr. Tilson,"

The old man with white hair stood up and walked slowly towards the refectory.