Blaupunkt Gta 2 Special Mkii Manual

Long time no reads. Damn.

affezzzzionatisssssimi My dear readers and I'm back.

First, I feel a moral duty to thank you for the countless e-mail I receive each day for all these damn fucking months. Finite
pleasantries out of the fucking truth.
As you can deduce from my goddamn way of writing, I was in the fucking United States of America (God bless them!). And, brothers, everything is super-ok there.
What the fuck are we going to do there? Fuck you man, give me time to talk, fuck!
As you well know, Italy is damn expensive in disarray. And I said "fuck brother, take away the tents and refugees in some damn place safe ".
In a hell of a chat fottuttissimi I met some brothers who have told me:" Fuck friend, how do you not understand that there is going to blow up a bloody mess! " And so I got a damn flight to fucking Texas. And I tell you? is a blast.
I was in a fucking goddamn CIA's secret base, and we eat only hot dogs and fucking beer in cans and, hell, it was a blast!
I learned the most innovative and damn survival techniques: change the channel to the no-look fucking Ti-Vi, preparing hamburgers on the engine of a fucking SUV, like the Coca prepare the urine and lard and so on. And then, friend, I learned to handle a cock with machine guns! God bless the fucking machine gun! Of course, the training was damn hard every day just for us about 12 hours ahead of cazzutissime cazzutissimi hospitals and we were out all the fucking bastards the fucking health insurance and those below 100 kg dry and I made buckets, man.
One day my instructor fucking me in the asshole screaming: "Ugly mangiaspaghetti fag! Now take your fucking colander with all your shit and you go back to hell in your fucking country of tailors fags ! And he lemonade under the watchful eye of surveillance camera, thrusting a hand into the holy bible.
... uh ... mmm ...
Obviously I have not done anything all of this. But I would have preferred to drip of indecency and barbarism that is now poured upon us daily by the news from Italy.

ps The picture accompanying this post, is not the worst that appears on google typing in "God Bless America" \u200b\u200bthere was too much competition. I challenge you to find the worst.

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Impressions dall'autolavaggio

all starts with a green light turns red and a drizzle to end that flooded the glasses and the eyes of children. Children as I was then.

seems young and crystalline water, the miracle of a blue sky, but a burst of bubbles that lead down the dirt riding. The soap has the smell of new tires, save the shells of soft plastic and remote control of certain sponges drunken grease and detergent at low cost. Even the midges can not stand, yet I am already dead and buried like the memories of some trips up and down the country. Travels with Dad at the hands of the divide between the steering wheel and shift knob between the protruding edges of the houses and zig-zag of those other scooter.

The car wash now is quieter, has undergone several technical improvements, it may seem more beautiful. Today's car is longer, has a heart of my mail, and although it is less than what it once was, that of captain papà.Difficile feel like then. This is a ship without a hatch to be closed, without any windows to be capped with a thousand and turns of the crank. We feel adrift. You do not feel alone in the middle of the storm. There is no magnetic saint to whom to entrust their prayers.

When the timer activates the brushes of the outside world I can do is blue. The blue floating invading rear window. The blue ravenous that swallows the car and all my thoughts. The blue slip saying nothing on the pages of writing pads resting on my knees. I write everything that comes into my head, while the rollers come back for a second pass. Out of people distract me as a soft watercolor brush. Some people wait their turn while smoking cigarettes. Who is anxious to dry glass and bodywork. Those who attempt in vain to tame would-long snakes.

From here go out in bigger or smaller? From here I would go out into larger or smaller? I blow dry air dries the body pushing the water along beds lining black as pitch. Drains along the invisible return to land and sky.

Everything ends with a red light turns green, a motor car that goes off coughing and forward, uncertain, towards the sun.

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I have a very busy lifestyle (special teleshopping)

I have a very busy lifestyle:

1. not have time to go to the hairdresser I prefer to shear their hair alone with a machine not yet patented.
2. not have time to follow a I prefer to swallow magic diet powders.
3. do not have time to see a chiropodist prefer sanded the foot pocket with a grinder.
4. not have time to exercise outdoors prefer to ride on a vibrating plate in the living room.
5. do not have time to sleep I prefer to buy a mattress that multiply it by two hours of my sleep.
6. do not have time to cut the vegetables into pieces I prefer to slice the fingers Julienne with a special tool.
7. do not have time to give the dye at home prefer to buy a nuclear reactor from shoulder.
8. not have time to go from body builder I prefer to touch the car with the uniposca.
9. do not have time I prefer to go to the doctor listen to what he has to say in passing the first white coat.
10. do not have time to go out and meet new people prefer to subscribe to chat and exchange messages with friends and friends from around the world.
11. not have time to buy water and fruit juices rather suck the comfortable pads.
12. not have time to listen to what the professor says the university I prefer to record everything with a video camera embedded in the cap of Bic (if not swallow the first time saving time and making me a better housewife gastroscopy).
13. not have time for me I prefer to slip in a sauna and a Canadian light a fire under my feet.
14. not I have time to go to the furniture to touch you prefer to order six space-saving shoe racks.
15. do not have time to prepare for the wedding list I prefer to pick up the phone.
16. do not have time to dream prefer me to numbers by the expert of the lot.
17. do not have time to buy gear for DIYers prefer to use the kitchen knives.
18. not have time to delete my opponent in love him to prefer a bill directly.
19. do not have time to paint prefer to buy a painting by that artist Argentine dying.
20. not have time to go buy pants my size I prefer to slip sudorante The belly (or at least let me redo your ass).

Einstein had time to show the language

Genetics And Evolution Lab

The memory has a guardian of the game without keys

The memory has a guardian without keys, this may be intact, but impenetrable or all fragmented because of too much freedom of coming and going. But sometimes, just a crumb, a word thrown into the river over the years and the memories are fast, like fish from the bottom. To the dear "grandparents" guests of Villa Serena in Lonigo the word "fair" does this effect. E 'greedy as bait, to which the memory does not know, can not resist.

An old view (source e-bay)

In Silvio startled to hear her grandfather, reach out your hand as if to catch the flight to want those memories capricious: "There I was all year at the Fiera di Lonigo, then it was the Horse Fair and people came from all over Europe. Do you think that I knew of people who came from Austria even walk! I was in love with the city and the lovely birds: there were many and of different species, all pulled and polished for the occasion. There were thoroughbred racing, horses, beasts of burden, and so each March 25 to mount my bike and ran into the city from Barbara where I lived then. Kept me all day with friends to look closely at the horses and assist Trading: it was not an everyday thing, very few people who could afford to own a horse. "

in those days to see the show were not enough to Lonigo eyes. It took my legs, like his grandfather Silvio, and there they would have their ears, like my grandmother Louise : "The horses were all tied to the rings beyond the wall of the orphanage," he says trying to convey that image with the look. "I was living there at that time with the sisters, but not always brought to see the show. So I'm happy to hear the voices from the window and the noise of the hoofs of horses, made them run up and down to see if they were "good" before you buy. So were other times, people close deals with a simple handshake, but contracts! There was a sense of honor and mutual respect. Near the bridge Guà then there were the stables for the housing of animals during the night, but it was not for all: there were too many in the city and then you pay! "

An old program (source e-bay)

legs to get into town, ears to hear his voice but also her mouth to savor the flavor in those special days, in those days of celebration. "Often I was close to the Carnival," he said almost with her grandmother and grandmother Santa Antoinette. "Not far from where were the horses and where they had bargained the market with many stalls where he was a bit of everything ', even to eat. It was certainly different from what is now, but for us it meant so much. If you could buy something and then we went with friends to attend the horse races. The riders pilot gigs ran around the ring and the racecourse (now Circle) or rode horses and competed jumping obstacles. It was really exciting, "said grandmother smiling Santa in interpreting the thought of all those present.

A thought is like a small star, illuminates the present with a light that comes from the past, a time when a word was enough to move heaven and earth, to turn the dreams, to excite people, "Fair". And now try to forget it.

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MacGyver

Some years ago I developed a sort of role-playing game: it was called "We're all McGyver" as the blog host. The goal was to evoke that great genius of television Angus Mac Gyver and how he to achieve it do everything using the few (and often unnecessary) items available. Well, today, a little 'out of nostalgia and a little' for fun, I decided to reprint here some of those weird companies brlilantemente resolved by users at the time. Happy reading and enjoy! (Oh, and if you would like to try your hand-sentiste wish you well, go ahead!)

Episode # 1 - The dream

"A wealthy Sultan of Qatar has decided to grant, as Supreme thanks for having changed the bulb dell'anabbagliante right of his Ferrari, a night in the company of his harem, consisting of twenty-seven beautiful women from around the world. You, galvanized by the award, you're lying in a splendid Olympic swimming pool with hydro massage scented salts and glasses of champagne, knowing that you just clap for once to enter the room all the girls and twice to turn off lights. You are about to do it once, when suddenly the sound of the alarm clock wrist Ringoboys, which announces that there are seven and plenty of snow in western Ohio. "

Disappointment is too much: it's time to rebel. Do you want to completely finish the dream and decides to slip back into a deep sleep, thus entering in your venture in Qatar, in the precise moment where you left off. In the dresser drawer, you have everything you need to make the company: some greedy puffbacche, a clown fish (which is obviously looking for Nemo) and the Windows calculator.

solution sent from "Giovane_Skywalker"

The simplest solution is always the best! Slingshot me into the kitchen with puffbacche and, mindful of dozens of episodes of the test of the cook (which I log every day), prepare a dozen small cakes of berries and cream. Then convince the clown fish to organize a show of custard pies, promising to change the last number of Playfish, erotic magazine for male fish (which are also subscriber) this month published photos of a topless mullet cool. To ensure the fish, I'm going to print flyers for the show, which carpets the woods dela area, making many friends among other things, the forester. Now we have to wait. In no time you say my house is full of smurfs who can not resist this kind of shows. The fish begins to entertain, then I secretly tipped off to Gargamel, who was my companion in the tent Ringoboys which purports to be accurate capturing all the smurfs (finally!).

Now, I know perfectly well why the Smurfs Gargamel wants Twenty years ago she had a dream in which he had a harem of 27 beautiful women, but was awakened by the most beautiful radio Ringochildren (who had received the times the average), and since then he dreams of ending the dream and found that the only way is to produce a particular sleeping pill based smurf. I offer then the potion will end because the kitchen. As soon as I can see that the concoction is almost ready, I take the windows calculator and divide a number by 0: its application is not responding and you are requested to send the error report to Microsoft. As soon as I press "send" rang at the door open and I find myself in front of two thugs uncooperative with the Windows logo tattooed on his biceps. With air a little impaired I wonder who sent the message and I point to Gargamel (which also now the only known likeness of Bruno Vespa ...); the two brutes then extracted from the sheath of their toolbar and explorer corciano Gargamel poker , I extend cordial greetings and then leave by Mr. Gates. So I can finally take possession of the soporific potion and go back to my harem, carrying a pair of handcuffs that I tickle the fancy hair!

I note that all took place in no more than 25 minutes.

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The only time I guessed the future

We had a cat. His name was Rudy. The name had they given the former owner and we had not had enough imagination by the change. Rudy was not the rest a bad name for a cat. Rudy the cat had reddish hair, streaked with white, but only on top. Below was all beige. My grandfather said that was not good for mice, because we gave him to eat the dog food in cans and the smelly mush. The reality Rudy rats them out. Every time I saw him hanging from a mouth. Dead or about to be anyway. When I discovered struggling with a mouse, Rudy was always on the defensive and if I approached with a teeth grab the poor rodent and put to flight. The scene always gave me the sick, but I could not avoid it. I wanted to see how he was doing. As killed the play. I would have wanted to do too, but without blood. The blood of the mouse whiskers on Rudy was too difficult to bear. When he noticed my mother Rudy chased with a broom for the entire courtyard. He seemed to have a great time. He could escape from the near or climb on a tree, but he was right there at your broom. Rudy playing with fire. That purpose he knew by heart my buttocks. They had tried it several times, for different reasons. In the end though Rudy and always escaped my mother if she returned home, laughing as if they had said something funny or had seen something funny. I do not I understood a thing. Even now that I see them chasing each other in the mind runs a smile.

Rudy, however, was more attracted by the road from mice. There was something beyond calling him and forced him to challenge the car every night. When I could see him crouched near the road, my heart stopped. My brother instead sobbed when he saw beyond the railing. I always wanted at his side and could not help crying. But I just held my breath until I saw him disappear into the ditch in front, then went back to my chores and was more concerned for him even though I knew he would soon recrossed. One afternoon we sat around the table outside in the shade of the porch, I took a sheet and I had drawn a road that was supposed to look like a cat lying in the middle. And then a car. And a truck. And another truck with trailer. I would like to design a tractor, but I knew it slow, so I started drawing cars without the pretense that they were beautiful. So I colored it all, I had rehearsed for good with a black marker with the tip end and receiving attached with tape to the chair where Rudy was sleeping for a while '. While gliel'attaccavo carefully over the back, he opened his eyes and receiving slit pointed to a moment before returning his dreams of a cat. That was the only time that I guessed the future.

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Interview with Julian Ross

Julian Ross greets the audience

In the 80's was the idol of millions of kids around the world. Today is here with us for an exclusive interview. Ladies and gentlemen: Mr. Julian Ross ! Mauro Pes

: "First I want to thank Julian for having accepted my invitation ..."
Julian Ross: "I am happy be here. I still have many fans in Italy ... "
Mauro Pes: " I guess mostly women ... "
Julian Ross: " Er yes (ride ndr), but not only ... "
Mauro Pes: " And Jenny who says? "
Julian Ross: " Well, sometimes I make a scene, but then everything falls ... On the other hand we are now happily married. "
Mauro Pes: " You are with Domenico Morfeo you are considered the largest untapped talent of the last thirty years ... What have you to say to your defense? "
Julian Ross: "Well, you know very well that I had some serious heart problems early in my career ..."
Mauro Pes: "Indeed, indeed I would like you to know that I have always considered a cut above in Oliver Hutton. I mean, if I had not had that problem you would have picked up Mambo and much more ... "
Julian Ross: " Thanks, you're too kind Mauro. Unfortunately there is no rebuttal ... "
Mauro Pes: " But fortunately recovered, and then you have resumed your career. Your case closely resembles that of Nwankwo Kanu, the Nigerian Inter striker ... "
Julian Ross: "Yes it's true. I also know him, an amazing guy ... "
Mauro Pes: " Speaking of amazing guy: Are you still in touch with other players of the past? "
Julian Ross: " No, I often see some fellow the Mambo, but in reality has been lost that round. We last met three years ago at the funeral of Lenders ... "
Mauro Pes: " E 'dead Mark Lenders ? "
Julian Ross: " Yeah, moved to take a knife due to a parking lot ... A bad story, there was bad blood between us, but in the end Mark was a good boy ... "
Mauro Pes: " That 's what I always thought too, but let's get back to you. During your long career in football do not you ever contacted anyone from Italy? "
Julian Ross: " Yes, in fact, in the mid-nineties was a visionary of some observers of Perugia Gaucci: they seemed to be impressed by my performance. So I sent my agents in Italy, but when they were Gaucci did not find ... "
Mauro Pes

Julian Ross from the sun

: "Too bad. Today, what do you do? Are you still connected to the world of football? "
Julian Ross: " I honestly do not. Just stopped playing I thought about a career as a coach, but then I felt a strong desire to break away from this world, so that gave me, but then I took off. Today I filled the taster for sweets and I feel totally fulfilled! "
Mauro Pes: " I guess. About Julian, I know there's a private plane waiting for you, because tomorrow you have a business meeting is very important to Tokyo. So do not you go over and hug you from all your Italian fans! "
Julian Ross: " Not too hard eh? I went away I would not want any heart valve ... (laughs heartily ed.) Among other things, it's true, tomorrow I have a very important undertaking: I have to test a new stuffed with anise and rose hips to a famous producer of sugar-free marshmallows, so I thank you and welcome all friends from home. "

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Life is a dollar of 'Prospects of honor

(That is, we are all "Boraciòn" *)

Dude / Dean Martin

Barba to do, stumbled and handful of dust in his underwear, we are so many little dude "Boraciòn" of Dean Martin in modern look of its Rio Bravo and move forward like some silent shadows of Indians, crossing streets and porches in search of answers and redemption. Yes, because we have just sketched a family, a job to defend tooth and to maintain a dignity intact, but life has spoiled us with his revelry, with its undue excesses, and now we have to deal with the reality of facts and with a future fatally predicted by a double-breasted banker. Yet we go forward, with clenched teeth, with a lump in my throat that will never melt, and a fist full of anger and pride solver who sway hugging jeans.

Stumpy / Walter Brennan

But we are not alone. No, not really. Apart from a small window without light, there is a crippled old man who, broom in hand, cheering for us, emphasizing and exalting himself. "It has nothing in the stomach. Only courage. " supports the dear old Stumpy / Walter Brennan at one point de " Rio Lobo " (Rio Bravo in the U.S. version), accompanied with his croaking voice a Dude / Dean Martin as we advance, finally head high, toward an unknown fate. A deputy sheriff's destiny and no longer by "Boraciòn" any.

Yes, because we all have the right to a petulant Gramps "Stumpy" who accompany us at every step with the sleek look and pointed the gun, that even while we are going to stand guard at Burdette or a mortgage thirty years. We all have a right to a better groomed and some deep feeling every now and then, a slap and a caress, no matter where they arrive. We all have the right to be wrong, of collapse, staggering to think again and go back on our feet as the "Boraciòn" Dude: a loser hero.

* boraciòn / Dude nickname given to the Mexicans because of its dedication "to drink"

Rio Bravo / Rio Lobo

1

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beyond

A Japanese symbol that does not remember anything, just useless tiny serial numbers and dozens of screws, if you're good to see them. The back of an LCD screen leaves you only to consult with yourself. A wonder if all those cables can also act as fuses. To turn the eyes in climbing ivy or a lone climber. Of those with bare hands.

The fact is that with you the other side, the screen reminds me of those pictures as a hairpiece that hide the safe. He has the desire to deviate from the first moment, but you end up with let's eyes, blinded by their ugliness desirable. So it is with me in front of this gray plastic that evil is contrary to my eyes. I'd pay for a quick peek. The rest is half an hour I try to intrude without success. To me you'll stay a pink sweater and a hand on the mouse shell. With the tips of your hair and brown wool on the enamel without long fingernails scratching the air.

And if now you ask where is the bathroom? Maybe you tick threatening to the wall as the fin of a great white shark for a walk in the ocean. I cut the legs, which are already paying for shaking my stupid shyness. Besides, then you need to point the finger to turn me into an inert doll sbrodolante and purple in the middle of the corridor. In both cases touch me drag me to the bathroom crushed by the weight of yet another defeat. Yet I feel I have to, something moves me. It is not courage, but even the bladder.

Second door on the right. Your words came as a timely and accurate that some stone thrown by a boy. Soon there's not that I came down into pieces like a glass plug in full launch. You did not move. The eye has been glued to the screen. The fingers were not taken down by the mouse. And now I'm here, alone, to repent before the mirror. The smell of soap mixed with a faint smell of urine. The water goes down slowly to the tube. The light that leaves me every thirty seconds. And then I should not gnash their teeth. Which teeth?

The return to the seat is quickly and quietly. Mesto like walking behind a coffin. The time to remember and review of your pins chew your hair. Who knows who had done him wrong. Well, what does it matter? Whatever the reason I will stay here mulling over myself. On my clumsiness. On my cowardice. I have the feeling to sink slowly in five centimeters of foam that I have under the seat, but the intercom beep me shake all over and almost fall off the chair.

Moments after entering the lock emits a nice metallic click and the door slowly swings open. An old man with a set of dentures floating in a transparent bag comes in and closes it if the shoulders. My eyes see the child struggling with a goldfish just won priced. My eyes must not be much. He looks at me puzzled and say all is good.

Do not worry we are only at the dentist he says. Already

the dentist.

1

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Cabaret Voltaire

E 'finally on-line " Cabaret Voltaire", the cultural magazine of Corriere Vicentino . I recommend sfogliatelo, download it, print it and read it.

Among the many pieces there is also one of my own: "Life is a dollar of honor." You'll find it at the end next to that big man John Wayne!

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San Crispino forever / Final

Read previous parts

Part III (Grand Finale)

head girl in the vineyard of Botticelli

The final stage of spot is a veritable crescendo of emotions. The first series is the appearance of fine lavanderina converted to harvesting by the absurd logic of the evil corporate factor. Smurf hat in hand, she is a beautiful view and also seems to give a lot of trouble with experience handling a bunches of grapes weighing at least 5 kg. However, in reality few people know that she represents the transposition of television "Head of a girl on the vine" less work by Botticelli. Work that does not seem to be particularly enjoyed by the painter himself, who had repeatedly tried to set it on fire by rubbing with fingertips, not only without ever succeeding, but putting a brutal end to his great career. Icon cursed and then come to the speaker.

"It gives us good grapes!" strongly supports the girl, even if, in the frame later, a bearded little man wields it as if doubtful in the hands of a baboon excrement.

Fortunately

carts are already full and beautiful three thousand peasants, finally fell from their trunks naticizzati, the cry of "The last pay to drink!" Three thousand drive their tractors to the farm, blessed by the eye invisible San Crispino . The first to arrive at the courtyard of a former tenant's double TG1 and Kabir Bedi with knowledge that reflect the linguistic puzzle that has lasted throughout the spot.

"The door to the San Crispino" says former conductor of the TG1

"What makes a good wine! " echoes the double of Kabir Bedi attaching the shoulder of fellow vintage.

Now the spot is considered final by all, including the director, but the grandfather's Ectoplasm have something to say. Hath been delivered of the child with a stick behind the ears and can look with optimism and serenity to its future. A purely spiritual future.

"A wine for all!" Says looking in my eyes the cameraman, while his smile widening taste sofficino magically change slowly in an enviable teeth tomato & nostalgia. (End)

sofficino The smile of his grandfather: "Tomatoes and Nostalgia"

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San Crispino forever / Part

Read the first part

Part Two (The factor Farm)

At this point the die is cast, and grandfather is petrified because she knows well that will have to await the end of the spot to say something else just as deep and above all they must do it with that of his nephew breaks chestnuts. Yes, it is unlikely to break free from the power of those little hands smeared boogers and nutella and just as unlikely to hope for an early death for investment. The road is not there in front of the A4 motorway, in fact it is not even on maps, is a simple furrow in time by divine studded tires of St. Crispin. Therefore futile to hope for the grandfather in some other transit van.

The line then goes to a kind of thin that Bud Spencer sitting on the hood of a tractor exclaims

"We are more than three thousand!"

Three thousand farmers all sitting on the hood of a tractor from morning to night, because it is obvious from the image next to work only three old men, who come back tired and sweaty from the fields to which they had left early to get dead tired at three in the afternoon . Fortunately, after a worker enters a real, and possible wife of Bud Spencer thin, sitting on a stool which bombards the hens with bread crumbs and saliva. Bread and saliva? Yes On the other hand, the woman says "cultivate the land" , not we feed the chickens.

Hens that are the sole support of another old man who appears smiling soon after. Not so much for the hens in itself, but because to him the bread crumbs with saliva like crazy. In fact, outside shot makes hoarding hiding (the Chip & Dale) in the hollow of a tree trunk. (Continued)

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San Crispino forever / Part

A clear sign of changing times is undoubtedly the fact that when you replace the advertising and you're forced rifarti idea of \u200b\u200ball: the product, and the actors used in commercials, soundtracks and so on and so on. All this obviously takes quite a commitment of time and assimilation, which may vary from person in person, but are often inversely proportional to the age of who is in front of the television screen: the grandmothers are often faster than their grandchildren because of time spent in front of the carousel fossilize commercials of all time slots.

After this enlightening explanation (or slop) without pseudo-source (who knows maybe one studietto across the Channel have also done ...) and not clinically tested on anyone back on the right path for you to note that recently we lost those two bontemponi of San Crispino . Like what? The two guests on Sunday, those who fall in the middle room in the basement to get the wine. Cardboard.

"But you keep the brick in the wine here?" Said host to host finding surprised that they held the cardboard wine aging in place.

"Eh, is a wine taste ... hear that! "replied the wise the landlord failing to be polite and menacing at the same time, in style " Misery .

These two have given way to something much more artistic. In a spot that seems to come out straight from the Italian Renaissance . The you've no doubt seen, but I will describe the same through my child's eyes thirty.

Part One (The child's grandfather el'ectoplasma)

The child comes running. Despite the heat. Despite the hellish stench of fermentation. Despite the dozens of flies that are squashed in the tonsils. He saw the van of St. Crispin and end of the world wants to be the first to warn his grandfather.

"Grandpa, Grandpa is San Crispino" yells in timpani snatch the bell Amplifon that always surrounds a mo 'of plastic wrap.

His grandfather, taken aback by the attack-bite child-van, immediately becomes colored by fear and mozzarella burst instantly if it were not already dead in 1981, hit by a cart of Robiola Osella crazy. Raising his eyes from shooting ectoplasm actually see San Crispino speed past with the sunglasses and the arm out the window of the van and can not help but show off a smile sofficino & cheese taste bitterness while some incoherent words to come out unconsciously of mouth:

"It 's our wine said before taken in full from the dust of the holy divine unleashed from the van. (Segue!)

1

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The meaning of the word "help"

Friday night. A quarter to nine or so.

get down to empty the garbage and I see a car stop. Beyond the road. Straddling the sidewalk.

Inside there is none. I look better. There are some. It 's a shrunken old man sitting in the back seat. It looks like a mannequin. A mannequin with no arms who is about to be thrown out. The car is a Opel Kadett. I wonder how I came to recognize it. I do not know, but I'm sure it is an Opel Kadett . Of gray. A gray made from the dark night.

let go of the bag and rest stop at the gate ajar. I look up the house lights on. The mirage of a sofa through my mind. Then I return the car. Man, if a man is still there. I wonder what the exact meaning of the word help. If still worth something to me. Then I turned and briskly through the deserted road.

No. Deserted not. The passage of a cat surprises me on the right. Slips on the pavement, scale a high fence of bricks and not see him again.

Now the Opel Kadett in front of me. A few steps away. The old does not seem to have seen me. E 'property. Something is covering his head. A hat. No. A cap. A cap from which sprout a nose and two lips clearly tightened. It 's a bathrobe? No. It 's a habit. A dark cloak that goes down along the body. I stand on the sidewalk. The cold air stings my feet. Slippers and socks are not enough. Should I get closer. Tour around the car. One, two times. Man's gaze is fixed into the unknown. And the unknown is a dead end between the light fields. I look to the house. E 'close, but I feel a thousand miles away. The light is still on. Waiting for me. I knock at the window. I hear the sound of bone against the glass. Busso stronger. Of even more. I pull the door handle. E 'is closed, as all the others. The old man is locked inside.

The word "help" is pumping through my temples. The heart beats trying rhythms unknown. I leave the pavement and back across the street. A small step, but quick as those of the cat. I look up at home. The light is turned on and off before my eyes. Then something lifts me up. I feel nothing. Slammed to the ground between the trash. Raining glass and smoldering shreds. Stars. No.
"Help".
"Help".
Or the meaning of the word help.

help

[a-ver-to]

A sm

1 rescue operations or assistance to those in difficulty or danger: a. material and moral, ask, ask, call a. someone, in the. someone, give, give, give a., a a. to someone, run, come in. someone, does not want help from anyone

‖ action helpers: a a. decisive

‖ A collection of material resources provided to those who are in a state of great need: food aid, cash

‖ What that brings relief, comfort, I need a small a.

Vocabulary Workshop E Review Units 4-6

Interview with John Wayne and Sara

First I would like to thank Mr. Wayne for accepting my invitation to be here with us tonight.

John Wayne: "Ah, I who thank you Mauro. It 'a long time that someone asks me for an interview!" Mauro Pes

: "I know Mr. Wayne, but I want you to know I'm a big fan ever since I was a child, and that is why it is truly an honor guest in my humble blog. I still do not I can not believe it! "

John Wayne: "Nonsense Mauro! But call me John, I do not like formality." Mauro Pes
: "Well, then: like you want John! I would not make you angry ... However let me tell you that you speak Italian really a perfect ... "

John Wayne from my old magazine

John Wayne: " Ah thanks Mauro , you're too kind. The Italian taught me Dean Martin (born Dino Paul Crocetti, ed) on the set of "Rio Lobo" and since then I do not have most forgotten. Besides, nowadays if you do not know the language "you're dead!" Mauro Pes
: "Yeah John, but tell me you are frequently in Italy?"
John Wayne: "Every now and then. I bought an old prison here in Vicenza and sometimes I go there to see if it is still standing." Mauro Pes
: "For obvious reasons I do not ask where exactly, but tell me, is still standing?"
John Wayne: "Eh?" Ah yes, you can swear. I was there just yesterday to install two solar panels on the roof I was arcistufo to wash with cold water ... " Mauro Pes
: "I still much to be done by John."
John Wayne: "Oh you never stop working, there is always something to do ..." Mauro Pes
: "What idea have you tried our country? If you've taken a course ... "
John Wayne: " Italy? Well, it's a wonderful country in many respects. Too bad there is no room for cattle and horses in the wild ... "
Mauro Pes: " His name is John reckless. "
John Wayne: " Wild eh? I could "make a good film ..."
Mauro Pes: "John would be great. And the events linked to Premier Berlusconi did you get that idea? "
John Wayne: " I do not know Mauro, I heard about it, but I have not followed the whole thing ... Berlusconi had known at the time of TeleMilano, but I have not had contact with him ... "
Mauro Pes: "And I ask you why you had contacted?"
John Wayne: "Of course! Wanted to offer to become the human image of the issuer. At one point it was all done: we shot some pilot episodes of a quiz game that I had to submit, but then all jumped in the air and I replaced Mike Bongiorno. " Mauro Pes
: "Oh yeah, Well, speaking of Mike Bongiorno. You will certainly hear that they have stolen from the cemetery where his coffin lay ..."
John Wayne: "Of course I knew. AND 'frightening, but are you sure that there are no Indians around here?" I remember it was a tribe that's cooked and of raw ... "
Mauro Pes: " No, there are Indians around here John. Not least of the kind ... "
John Wayne: " I thought ... You know with globalization, today ... However, I am made another idea on the death of Mike ... "
Mauro Pes :" And can you tell us to? "
John Wayne: " Sure! Are you quite sure that not too lacking in some old ladies addicted to television? I were you I would look for in nursing homes, hospices ... You will see that you find it. After all, those people need company and without him it is no longer the same ... Or am I wrong? "
Mauro Pes: " Maybe not John, maybe you're wrong at all, but in the end: who am I to say that John Wayne is wrong? "
(more?)

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the red dress - 4 pt. A theme night

First read the previous publications

4. Sara and the red dress (the test)

The door of the store is closed by issuing a slight metallic lament. A kind of laugh that left Sara seemed to come distinctly from one of the mannequins behind him. - It 's because of my husband - said the owner by checking a pile of t-shirts folded on the counter. - I told you that the door scared the customers, but he did nothing: do not ever give me listening. I 'll have to turn to someone else. As always, however. - Added a smile widening as the yellow filter of a cigarette. - Are you here for a look or you already have something in mind? - He asked not to give Sara time to recover: he still had goose bumps, but it was not clear if it was caused by sound absurd joke or sudden revelation of the seller. - I will try that red dress in the window - he said finally drawing back a large lock of hair from her face - well one should andarmi forty-two - added in small steps closer to the counter. - Ah yes, a forty-two: there's no doubt I'd say - while she pressed the disappeared behind a high wooden shelves beyond what he imagined an unlikely Sara scale down to the basement. - Alas - she uttered with false sorrow without reappearing on the horizon - Here I no longer have. The last one is on the dummy, but you expect that the extension. -

At that Sarah saw her take the straight path of clashing against a shop window display of underwear. - It 's a model that is leaving me a lot - she said pulling off his shoes before entering the showcase. - Do you think I've already reordered three times this year. Valla you to understand the fashion ... sometimes - he said before altering the item and then stops suddenly for the effort was making - I was saying, sometimes you take home a lot of stuff will go away convinced that as bread and instead spend the whole ends up on the rump. Other times you do not ventured here and everyone wants what you have not ... - hung up while re-awakening with the dress hanging on the forearm. - Here we go - he finally said, handing it directly to Sara - Try well over there, behind the curtain, but you'll see that you'll be enchanted. These deals are made bell'apposta for those like you ... - Sara took her hands and broke up the red dress on if facendoselo slide along the body as if nothing separates it from the fabric so smooth and undulating. - Yes - then thought of his own voice surprised turned inward - I'll be perfectly - you said quickly and in so doing put the dress on the counter and left the store without saying a word.

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from possible title: "The possibility that the evil Magu eat the heart of the Good Little Tony albeit chock full of bad cholesterol." or "Sull'inopportuna Danacol transmission of the complaint during the screening of a film whose violent climax is given by an Indian who eats a heart right out manually. "

Wondering why of so bold? No? ciuppa Well, I'll tell you anyway.

The evil Maguire, the Magnacuori

The fact is that last night while I was zapping my trusty towel with wild-command, I came across this great masterpiece that is "The Last of the Mohicans" with Daniel Day Lewis and many others (which, right now, I do not remember and therefore meet without hesitation that mythical group of extras in the unknown, which is "many others" Like in Traditionally speaker-film-trailer) and of course I stopped a moment to savor pictures and, what is better, music tunes.
Well, the appearance of the treacherous double agent guide Magu I came back to mind (unfortunately I had just eaten) the horrible scene in which this poo of India, like a hyena incazzèto (at Banfi to understand each other), Roots heart from the chest of the general and GNAM dear father! If mangna like a ripe pear!

And

Good Little Tony

(combinazione!) right in the head while I was grinding those horrifying images not fire the train and advertising know who was the first spot in the caravan? No? But the couple Danacol -Little Tony, who, with his usual force has repeatedly warns viewers against the accumulation of bad cholesterol in the heart. At that moment the two visions are merged in my brain in an instant I did 1 +1 and I have imagined a Magu rightly hesitant to face the possibility of a new meal provided by Tony Little. There and then I said, "But all that will hurt Magu bad cholesterol? And then we'll Magu Danacol help from? And most importantly: Little Tony knew that was the Last of the Mohicans on TV? "Mah .

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Seeking house

Part one: the approach

He is a little man and sees. He is sitting on a nice straight hairy pale ocher-colored sofa and shows off a questionable goatee and a olive green turtleneck that comes up from the neck like poison ivy. LEI, his wife, sitting next to him and through the eyes of love through an upper lip that looks like a donut filling. there are no buildings in front of a camera operator, because they are looking for home. "DispeVvatamente.
Incidentally, not that they live under a bridge or an old Lancia Arna in the parking lot of the stand, indeed. He owns a villa in the country so huge and luxurious that at any moment you expect to check to see JR Ewing with a glass of scotch whiskey in his hand, while she possesses him is worth more than a villa surrounded by greenery. But if they want to go. They want to move for work: they need to close the office and resolve the problem of the movement. In short, they want "a small apartment overlooking the Colosseum," he says. "Maybe in Rome," she says.
But they know that beyond the camera there is a tuft of white woman in the company of two architects Bellocchio, who in his mouth all the same question, "How much is your budget?" and then the two lovebirds hurry to rattle off numbers: "We have a budget of 600-700, but yes, crack avarice, including € 800 thousand, "he says hit by an indescribable itch underwear. "But with a little effort we can reach even 1 million, is not it dear?" She adds unleashing a gingival smile. "A small effort?" Then I think I have just agreed to cover a twenty-year mortgage, "Who knows where to get them with a purge ..." (continued)


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The Griin (story in preparation)

Where there were no more than an abandoned farmhouse and an old well from time to dust and weeds sprouted suddenly quick and quiet a natural resort. The Green Planet ( Griin to his friends) came up in a jiffy as the mocha coffee and went for a long time filling mouths and minds of the villagers with the most bizarre fantasies that people can give birth to linguistic ignorance.
"I heal rheumatism immerse yourself in the urine of cow" was telling someone all serious in front of the drinking buddy. "Losing weight sniffing while you sleep extracts of cabbage and cauliflower "claimed some wives to husbands face in turning out some stuffed roast so as to be ready to explode. "And then you stop smoking gradually, you even realize, thanks to certain cigarettes pine" sketched someone stopped at the traffic lights with the phone in one hand and just emptied the ashtrays on the asphalt in the other. In all corners of the country they were thus weaving praise, praise to raising Griin and its miraculous variety, which would have certainly improved the quality of life of the country and throughout the surrounding valley in bringing about health and work and money. Not necessarily in order. The reality of

Griin however, was evidently very far from the fantastically miraculous voices of the country. In fact, it certainly Rising natural viaticum against vices and infirmities of human fate as smoking, obesity and rheumatism, but sought to counter them by relying mainly bald embrace of green hills and not so fresh to breath the mountains just look away. For the rest were just fine words, technology and boasted a team of doctors and young doctors and free-range straight out of some soap opera. However, believe it or not, the recipe seemed to work beautifully. In its second year of life business was doing well without a doubt: the many rooms of Griin were always crammed with admissions and reservations also anticipated stay of several months. A situation that the abstract Swiss holding company owns the building seemed on the verge of deal to the sound of bulldozers, cranes and formidable expansion plans both horizontally and vertically.

was in this climate of prosperity in a midsummer day were welcomed into the structure and Mrs Onion ... (more ...)

1

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care / third party

Dear reader, the contents of this post it may hurt your sensitivity.

We recommend a quick read on an empty stomach.

Read the first part ...
Read the second part .. .


But the water draws.
Water purifies.
neutralizes sulfur.
And come back to soak up.
Without hesitation.
Fearless.

Imagine again immersed.
to nurture peace.
of tranquility.
dreams.
I thank your pores.
That slight shudder disappears.
hair back to soak the split ends.
vapors at the water still pinch the nostrils. Stay
there, still, with eyes closed.
You and your flabby body that borders on the edge of the pool.
From there, listen, listen
and yes, with moderate interest,
first whispers,
then the low voices and crackling
strangled cry, and then some.

Then open your eyes and notice.
Yes, noticed. You got it. Note
renewed alertness.
Note the speed of certain shots. Note
havoc at poolside. Notice the old
abandoning certain bodies.

Imagine the miracle. The prodigy
arthritis disappeared.
forget the age.
The new wonder of the muscles. And finally
yet noticed.
Note yes, note. The peaceful
floating an asshole.
care.

From the movie Cocoon

1

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P. Green

Where there were more than a shed and an old abandoned well Time to dust and weeds sprouted suddenly quick and quiet a natural resort. The Green Planet (P. Green for friends), came up in a jiffy as the mocha coffee and went for a long time filling mouths and minds of the villagers with fantasies bizarre that people can give birth to linguistic ignorance.

"I heal rheumatism immerse yourself in the urine of cow" was telling someone all serious in front of the drinking buddy. "Losing weight while you sleep smelling of cabbage and cauliflower extracts" some wives claimed their husbands face in turning out some stuffed roast so as to be ready to explode. "And then you stop smoking gradually, you even realize, thanks to certain cigarettes pine" sketched someone stopped at the traffic lights with the phone in one hand and just emptied the ashtrays on the asphalt in the other. In all corners of the country were thus to praise weaving, raising hymns The Green P. and its miraculous variety, which would have certainly improved the quality of life of the country and throughout the surrounding valley in bringing about health and work and money. Not necessarily in order.

(more. ..)

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