Can I Tan Before My Brazilian Wax

Hello, how are you?

13:13.

This mini-mouth, combined with the flu and sore throat, gives me a feeling of numbness, as if I lived in a fog dense.

My eyes are bright enough and avoid prolonged contact with a bright light.
Strangely, all this makes me feel that my feelings were exacerbated, either through touch, hearing ...

I'm cold. I'm hot.

I feel all my bones.

eyes vague, wandering among the stacks of the BU, I chew my gum mint absently.

I wanted to have a cat, there, on my legs.

So much for the allergy, the feeling of a little creature purring and affectionate lap remonstrated the morale of anyone.

I would have taken to the amphitheater and we would have stayed both.

J'aurais bien aimé avoir quelqu'un à serrer dans mes bras, là, tout de suite.

13:33.

Mes yeux se ferment volontiers de leur propre chef. Je pense que mon classeur fera un excellent oreiller tout à l'heure, histoire de me regen quelques minutes. 

Des murmures se font entendre dans les alentours, quelques groupes de travail, quelques bavards ou bavardes.

Mes mains se reposent sur le clavier Dell noir et je peux ressentir les faibles vibrations de l'ordinateur de même marque, juste à gauche.

It soon

- 1 / 4, so I'll disconnect, erase my tracks three times to be really safe, and from a perky air conditioning to the auditorium over ahead.

Goodbye reader is good and you spend a good day.

Bluetooth Headset Comparison 2010

Vale. Vamos.

It's so easy to play, make believe, trap, deceive.

Mirage illusory.

What color is he this time, how will it mimicry?

Orange. Smile.
Mauve. Indifference.

The question that arises is:

How many masks can be worn at a time before the strings do not end up letting go?

Word. Remains a time in my mouth. Let my tongue you turn around, and you feel before you t'analyser kinds.

Scripture. Let me therefore you weigh, evaluate you before writing you. Be light and elastic, transforms you into what I want you to be, swimming in the curves of my mask.

They all fall into the trap, without exception. But not
masks.

I could be the expert of political correctness. Words are so easy to find, those that want to hear, whom they expect to hear.

In truth, I could manage to find my place in society if I kept those masks. I could yes.

But a permanent mask is called hypocrisy, and that ... I do not want.

strange feeling to know that deep down, we know exactly what should be changed in us, whether physically or mentally, to successfully enter the mold.
strange feeling to know that could.

feel happy to know we never will and we fuck the world.

"- and without glasses, can you see?
- Uh, yeah If ya want.
- ...
- Ah, but you may be too nice in fact!
- How you say that it makes you kind she is ugly
there - do not care I take full
- Nah but seriously, why do not you change, you may be right!
- Why?
- ... "

Huh? Why?

This would be another mask in the end.

Ace and the Fool. The Mad King is he really crazy? Joker.

Ace may be an assassin, no one knows the bottom.

But the Ace of Hearts is a fool. He shakes and he does not play. It's crazy.

The King and his peers have locked the Queen. Aboard a boat lead.

In fact, I will use these masks more.

Would only to reassure my family, even if only to keep the change, even if only to keep a cool head and not panic.

Would that to keep my grip on my feelings, even if only to erase what has no place, even if only to avoid sinking.


But there is a role ... A particular role, I have no trouble interpreting.
No mask.
But if it had a color it would be white. I do not know what would be his mimicry, there are so many who would agree.

Madness.

a smile.

eyes staring.

Words of appearance hollow but that does not mean anything.

As this sentence.
But if in fact there is a sense.

is hidden.

links

And also, parts of texts.

a. If there

Between Order and Chaos, you will find the answer, or answers, or None.

Getting together is one thing. Do not get lost is another.

I am not afraid to post this.
Just because I'm sure none of you is able to distinguish truth from falsehood.

However, if sympathy can be interpreted, the affection does not simulate.

A Mask for all fooled.

A mask to make them laugh, and my darkness away.

A Mask to silence and leave nothing forthcoming.

From the heart of Silver ...

recognize regulars.

What Moves Does Hoho Learn

Bew.

not really feel like writing.

So far diversify and offer my items, if not depressing pavement, videos, comedy, sad, or others.

I'll start with that.

is a short film [going to write "very short" here, I have trouble now Didonc. ]

A short film so ... Well, look, it'll be better than a lousy description of the thing.

Due Date As Per Conception Date

Till I Collapse.

I cling to writing as a drowning man a rope out of nowhere. I kneaded my sadness, my hate and my desire to leave to make a paste of cake abominable. There is nothing worse than being his own jailer.

This mania for being punctual, that horror behind, this feeling of guilt when I dry or when I go out earlier ... They

m'enfoncent even more is malignant.

Without this discipline that I imposed, I never set foot here. Yes, here.

Live Silver BU morning, ladies and gentlemen.

I will definitely scare my readers last, if there are still those who are wandering around, but ultimately it's my blog, and its primary function and ant to raise some of my moods, as far as I'm free.

I have two beautiful hours before floating a block of four hours. Superb. Culpa or not, I get lost before the end, sure.

I just finished a pseudo "TD Expression," I loathe the highest point. I hate wasting my time this way.
Bitterness is a good company, I know her better.

It is not raining today.

Well, I already feel like writing. The only rope that stretched me in these places is slipping slowly but surely out of my hand. I have a book in my bag but no desire to read. A little over an hour to eat before class. The idea of returning me back to wander outside the stomach.

I keep control but I do not know how long I could hold. The one I want now is to roll under the table as Cosette and crying loudly.
And then sleep to forget.

When you leave your bag lunch that your dear and loving mother you kindly prepared and that the mere sight of the paper that accompanies it makes you do a mini-crisis nostalgia Thinking of home, it gets scary.

13.00. 60 minutes before ... 4 x 60 minutes = 240 minutes.
I'll try to negotiate to 180, you should be fine.

I sink, shit. I sink.
If I listened I get out of here screaming and running like the devil if I had at my heels.

I never felt such loneliness. Never.
But I'm having a lot of experience in the field, we must believe that there really is not, and still worse.

I do not want to write.

I want out of here but I have nowhere to go, no destination, any transit point.
No scoring.
Nothing .

I'll stop here. This time putting my feelings in writing seems to exacerbate rather than relieve myself.

All who wander are lost.
All who wander are lost.
all those who wander are not lost.

not lost.
No eh? I'm not lost ... No.

I hear music from my mp3 but I do listen more than half.

It is 13h05. Ahaha.

The funny thing when you fall, the fall seems like an eternity.

Astrology Compatibility By Birthdate

O Hi.

I prefer this kind of pairs myself. Iksde.

I think I did not even need to tell the background of my thoughts on the St. Lamentin. Valentin, sorry.

So tell that the night before a Monday? I am motivated? I'm in great shape and I'm going fart? No. I'm so
blazée I have no strength to moan.

I'll try anyway, go.

graph I pretty right now.

In fact, I feel that inspiration and graphic are two dissimilar literary currents.

They sometimes overlap, but in most cases, one dominates the other.

This means that when I write a lot, I do not graph, and vice versa.

HP [ ____ ;                     ]  

MP [ ____                              ]

I need to escape again more.
I may be back Perfect World, although good, is pretty much deserted.
Mind you, this is not quite a concern because my gameplay is struggling to adapt to the other, I soloing more than anything else so it should go.
Although not really. Although if
. Although not
.

My mood is somewhat paradoxical recently. [No shit? ]

The semester is in fact a fake, prices are expected to end April 30, with exams in May if I caught, and catching up in June
I still have not caught the system and the administrative stuff.

I walk in Free Style and wait to see what happens.

A kind of tourist in sum.

ago as a mist all around me, I do not know where I'm going but I know exactly where I do not want to happen.
I do not know if I want to grab onto harder than ever to my links, or if I want to let go some time.

I do not know ...

Normal Cervical Mucus Before Period

Powerless.

impotence.

One of the worst feelings, no doubt. It m'insupporte at the highest point.

What's better than a swig of magic potion "Back to Reality" in the figure, that history never forgets that good ends are rare these days?

In movies, a little good will and everyone managed to save all world, even at the last moment, when there is no hope, they arrive a half second.

The reality is quite different.

Yesterday, in around half past twelve, I went to the side of people in law, just to see one or two familiar faces. Then it rained and the strings that I can happily pick up the pace. Once at the shelter, I spotted a friend from high school and I'll sit beside him. It was then that behind the bench where she is a team of technicians getting down somehow to remove a manhole cover under the lashing rain.

Intrigued, I asked my friend if she knows the reason for that. She tells me when a kitten has somehow managed to get stuck underneath.

This information gives me the impression of a dagger, and I do not exaggerate things.

With anxiety, I followed the progress of technicians, not without difficulty that they finally succeeded in removing this fucking plate. One of them calls his arm and called the poor cat. Without success.

The noise they have had to scare him and he pledged further into the maze of pipes.

Heureusement, la pluie s'arrête. J'ai appris plus tard qu'il avait été à deux doigts de se noyer... 

Et que ses cris stridents ont alerté des étudiants qui ont appelé du secours.

Devant leur incapacité à sauver le chat, et le potentiel danger que représentait une bouche d'égout ouverte pour un étudiant ahuri incapable de surveiller ses pieds, l'équipe de sauvetage de fortune formée par ces hommes a finalement refermé la bouche d'égout à moitié, histoire de pouvoir l'ouvrir facilement au cas où le chaton reviendrait.

Ayant deux heures de flottement, je les ai passés à proximité, histoire d'intervenir au cas où le chaton reviendrait. A la fin, un miaulement presque imperceptible a retenti, une seule fois.

Je me suis ruée vers le passage et j'ai réouvert la plaque.
Malgré mes appels désespérés, il ne s'est pas montré et n'a pas miaulé.

La mort dans l'âme, j'ai du me résoudre à retourner en cours. 

Néanmoins certaines étudiants sont venues s'enquérir du sauvetage du chaton, certainement celles qui ont appelé au secours. Il y a quand même quelques gens censés, miracle.

During the break, two hours later, I lam directly to the sewer to the con, and there I heard very clearly the cries of the kitten. I renewed my call again and again, a gents maintenance came also, sometimes the cat seemed to get closer, the moment he walked away.

He merely had to show that her little ... once.

Even if I would have decked in the mud below, I would rush to catch it and release it from there. But he first had to show up, because the pipes were too narrow for it can get involved, and far too low to be able to squeeze an arm.

He did not ... He stayed below.

I'm going back, and when I emerged, I still had a look in the sewer, but still nothing. Not even a little meow.

Throughout the end of the day, I thought this little fur ball dropped ... The night also.

I also thought about this bitch that revolved around me with his laptop and did not even give a look at this shit mouth sewer to worry about what was happening.

If at that time I could make a change,

replace the kitten by the turkey insensitive ...

I would not hesitate a moment.

Yes I'm cruel, yes, yes, YES.

Shit.

I hate Fac.

Tanning Creme For Men

Ten Symphonies.

very top of the building T, I moved.

A half hour before class. Half an hour that lasted forever.

Je les ai vu passer, la plupart.
Que ce soit ceux du lycée ou ceux de ma promotion, ils avaient tous un groupe, un trio, un binôme.
Quelqu'un. 

On appelle ça un ami si je me souviens bien.

Je suis admirative devant leur faciliter à nouer, dénouer des liens aussi rapidement, aussi sûrement.

Ces gens-là ne marcheront jamais seuls.

Comme un air de déjà-vu depuis mon observatoire... 

Sauf qu'avant c'était une sorte de cube hein, tu te rappelles ? 

Le plus haut, le plus loin... Cela fait des années maintenant, pourtant I remember like it was yesterday.

spend every second I felt, accompanied by the voice of my mp3.

► ►

End of history lesson.

The teacher has a meeting and lets us go at 15:00 instead of 16:30, it's always fun.

"For the next meeting we will discuss ... the Pirates."

Wonder or amazement. Smile.

I turn naturally ...

Person.

They ranged all their belongings and went with haste to the auditorium, one after the other.

The smile fades slowly. Then he returned, less marked, softer, sad indeed. I leave the Amphi.

Must be stupid. Should it be stupid to let these people go through his eyes that way, zigzagging as if looking for someone ... Why? Why ...

Maybe because before, there had been someone to me my smile back, tell me " Ah, glad you're here eh? " or understand my smile, simply.

They killed two trees, beautiful when they flower.

At Noon, unable to return to my sanctuary green, trainees or students from abroad occupy the small terraced house.

But it rained. The sky is gray. And thanks to him, the clouds weep for me, avoid me to overflow the vase, which tends to fill up too quickly now.

Most courses are interesting. Finally, how livable. Yet.

And then there are these virtual shoulders. But no doubt they would disappear once materialized. Who knows.

The beauty of the mirage is often fatal.

Hello.

My name is Silver and I have a dirty mind today. It's not as if it was new, Mebon. Can I care

the physical ugliness, if only they made me the joy that I fly.

I'd like ... that rain does not stop.

1979 Holiday Rambler Parts

The Last Samurai.

I do not know how to begin this article. I'll go "by feel" as they say.

There has movies that make you laugh, that remind you of good memories.
There are those that leave you a feeling of disappointment.
And then there are those that mark you, those who by their incredible strength, every time you offer the same lot of emotions, like the day you have seen for the first time.

Those who know me know at least how much I appreciate the famous trilogy Lord of the Rings.
But these films there have already forged a deserved reputation, it would be almost useless to go back on it and dwell on those others have done very well.

Gladiator also made me a strong impression, its simple enough citations to honor him.

Today I am talking about a movie that I had prejudices.
This film is The Last Samurai .

Initially, seeing the poster featuring a close-up Tom Cruise in a martial pose, I laughed softly.
" V'la one who fancies himself a samurai. lol. "And I'm diverted.

It's just that I have a kind of repulsion for movies where the hero eventually exceed a guy who spent his life perfecting his art, whatever.
Mister América arrives and hop magic, after a few days is a pgm and it smashes the guy who was supposed to be the expert. Pathetic.

Now I understand why the producers chose to put this fake samurai forward. Just because they chose the real "Last Samurai" [played by Ken Watanabe, thank you Wiki], the impact would have been less.

I do not like Tom Cruise, and I have nothing to fuck Brad Pitt and his emotional life.
Overall, I'm not one that will flatter an actor from a role he has played. For example, I'm a fan of Jack Sparrow, but only appreciate the talent of actor Johnny Depp, without drool over him like others ...
Do not confuse the actor and its role, that many people are hysterical groupies. But nevermind, I digress.

Tom Cruise. He plays the role of Nathan Algren, a U.S. Army captain and veteran ayant mené de nombreuses batailles contre les Indiens d'Amérique. Sous les ordres d'un ahuri dont j'ai oublié le nom, il va prendre part à un véritable massacre qui le hante même après la fin de la guerre. C'est alors que ses services sont à nouveau recquis. Il a été choisi par un abruti de politicien japonais, Omura, conseiller de l'empereur qui entend bien mater Katsumoto, le fameux chef Samouraï autrefois général de l'armée impériale. L'idée étant de former la nouvelle armée aux techniques et aux armes occidentales. Petit à petit, le Capitaine Algren va se rendre compte que les Samouraï ne sont pas les sauvages qu'on lui décrit, mais bien les dignes descendants Men of Honor, fearsome warriors.

The original storyline is longer and reveals a longer piece of the plot.
My goal is not to tell you the story, but to share with you the emotion that I feel every time I watch this excellent film. I want to do it justice because it is part of that class that many are unable to determine, simply because the story and characters are not those who are highly regarded by the public. Certainly most people who have "seen" that have the look without really seeing. It reaches a depth that touches me enormously as it relates to a rope that is very sensitive to me.

I'm not ashamed to say I cried at the sight.
There is a melancholy landscape, in further acts of these men and women who wear beautiful kimonos, without frioritures in the slow movement of the blade of the katana, and music.

Ah, music.
The composer is the one who made the soundtrack of Gladiator, Hans Zimmer.

It takes you and you hang on what happens, bringing a flood of feelings which coincide perfectly with those we feel by sight, accentuating the more beautiful.

The words of the protagonists are just as beautiful, just as it sent quotes out of context, could perhaps seem hollow.
Because they are made to be said and heard at specific times, where they make sense.

The samurai are not demonstrative, they are tough, martial. I learned to appreciate the true value of affection that this type of people leak and they can be found in this film. Whether a sentence, a gesture, a look, you come to detect, recognize the feelings that pass from one to another.

One of the players I was particularly affected, either by his mastery of the sword, his gestures that correspond exactly to what I imagined the true Samurai, but also his courage, honor and loyalty, and his affection he brilliantly camouflaged under airs surly. This is Ujio, played by Hiroyuki Sanada.

With this atmosphere of melancholy lyric, is reconcilable with a sense that we all want, really. Serenity. That we feel, sitting in tall grass, amid extensive areas. That we feel before a certain death, a death that is part of everyday life, a death that preparations were being made long ago.

Non-thinking.
is one of the keys to serenity, in harmony with our surroundings by ignoring the rest, ceasing to reflect on why, how. Make
simply.

I'm glad I found this movie, halfway between the recognition of the mixed world of film, more concerned about the trip Tom.C of Scientology, and some indifference, certainly due to misunderstanding.

In the end, it always amazes me how much the public may suddenly discover a shared passion for massively vampires glitter and sulk films worthy of the name, but at the same time, this lack of groupies around Last Samurai is not necessarily a bad thing.

In fact, when creating my blog here, I hesitated a bit before finally settling on "The Refuge . " He was on the verge of being called "Last Samurai . "I had even prepared to explain why and how in Introduction, but then I thought it was maybe a bit pompous and, well, a movie title as blog name ... Medium.

Finally, it will be after 50 messages I finally realize this tribute. Better late than never.

And finally, despite all ...

"Recognize life in every breath, every cup of tea, every life that we take.
is the way of the Bushido Warrior is ... ".

 

Where Can I Buy Memory Foam In Toronto

Logout.

Mes mains en suspension au dessus de mon clavier gris argent aux touches noires. Il est vieux et un peu poussiéreux, pourtant le tracé des lettres blanches est toujours visible.
Simulacre de pianiste, je fais frôler mes doigts sur les touches, à la recherche des lettres qui conviendront, puis des phrases, des paragraphes qui pourront ensuite se suivre pendant de longues minutes, s'inscrivant sur la page blanche sur mon écran, au rythme de la mélodie de mon clavier. Le bruit que fait une lettre n'est pas le même que celui de la barre espace, retour ou entrée.

And always, at some point, the silence between two light strumming, until my right hand reaches the point key on the numeric keypad, which closes a melody, before another resume.

_______________________________

It advances neither tall, nor the lowering. Straight ahead, only the destination account. Although at times his eyes are fixed on the sky, clinging to a fleecy cloud, lost in the greyness of a cluster scout a storm. And even if sometimes they get lost on the ground, attach themselves to the strides it does, the ground on which it works.

bag ends up on the grass, leaning on one leg ending in a waste basket. Hands are lost in a bag, finds a small pocket, opening the zipper and eradicating headphones, mp3. A few seconds later, the bag found its place on the back of his owner's leg starts again, just like his clone reversed.
A patchwork of different music pours into the white son, forming an instant sound barrier.

the corner of his eye, she spotted a group of people that are familiar but yet not be close. Unable prevent their ever crosses his path, she walks towards them, greeting them with a smile on his lips. Is not known for his good humor and humor in all circumstances? This is the role she has chosen, yet they do not know how she once played to perfection, how humor has dulled, darkened, how his laugh is not as spontaneous and sincere. And they did not know, luckily hardly anyone will testify to this change. Smile me, comrades! Smile, but do not laugh too hard and keep our secret tears. The excess or overflow of joy or tears, are frowned upon and draw attention.

A look at the sky. Gray, promising rain. Hope.

She arrived 5 minutes ahead of time, the auditorium was already full, as the first day. Before long, the seats will be easier to find. Some idle after the eyes, others he made hand signs. She locates a place in the third row, near the corridors and adjacent to two students sympathetic, certainly the only promotion to really invest in the course. A glance at the clock, which does nothing except ":" red, figures have disappeared. Fortunately, his watch on his wrist, it will be skinny consolation of seeing the scroll time, albeit slow when he passes it in these places.

history. During the first semester, the topic will focus on Madagascar, the island neighbor. She appreciates the true value of this original choice, she feared that yet another cover of the First or Second World War. The professor seems appropriate, as did his predecessor. But time passes more slowly with him.

Pause. A light rain enhances the fresh air. Reunion with one or the other fellow. So the holidays? Laughter, smiles, back in the boardroom.

4:25 p.m., at the end of the course, output and discovery of a torrential rain that makes the hair on the heads of freshly brushingnées girls, scantily dressed, or heels. , She smiled. She loves it, the rain, she had desired all day. Answered prayer, she left the court building, and ventures in the splendid fleet. A few minutes later, she was soaked like a log and came to an alleged bus shelter stuffed to the brim. Whatever, she sits outside and focuses on this multitude of drops that fall on him, giving him a sense of refreshment soon replaced by a wave of cold, nevertheless bienvenue.

Enfin, le bus arrive et tous s'y engouffrent, dégoulinants ou presque, les plus prévoyants ayant un parapluie. Une fois n'est pas coutume, elle ferme la vitre à sa droite, se réfugie à nouveau dans sa bulle sonore et attend, tandis que le bus s'ébranle et démarre enfin. A la première gare, de nouveaux passagers mouillés montent avec empressement, tandis que d'autres en descendent.

C'est alors qu'elle le repère, parmi les nouveaux venus. Cela faisait tellement longtemps, et en même temps, on aurait dit que c'était hier. Reconnaissance mutuelle. Il vient s'asseoir à ses côtés. Elle enlève ses écouteurs.

It has not changed much since college. But his voice is less rugged than before, sweeter. She knows he has been through hard times, she is reassured to learn that he escaped. He tells a few snippets of his life, his plans, his desires. She notes that it is in sportswear, he learns he still football, it is passed to the next level.

He clung to his dream despite everything he had to endure, she meets this admirable stamina. They talk about everything and nothing. She arrived at her stop, they greet each other and she leaves.

To the umpteenth time, returning the headphones to his ears, and she walks briskly while the heat dries her wet clothes, it goes beyond his old college, sucks in passing the smell of incense shop, jewelry and Indian movies, watch without seeing the windows at clothing stores, shoes that were repeated until it finally arrives at its destination.

From beginning to end, except the joy of being in the rain, she will not feel anything.
past, meets an old friend would have boosted his heart with joy, she would have told a thousand stupid things with affection and heat, happy.
past, she would have bitched that time passes too slowly, would have found dozens of things to say, to question.

Here, nothing. A vacuum-based, a nothing sentimental, a break for a healthy heart too used to things too small, ephemeral.
In truth this is, there is no battery, the heart is unloaded. It would be enough to reconnect the turbine as it previously, but no. Things are as they are.

The little energy that remains, I will pass it on paper, in graphite, telling my life or any history, and responding to this new old friend with whom I exchange many letters to more than beneficial consequences.

Did you know? The distance is irrelevant in the end. Know that the other side of the world, there is someone who feels more or less the same despite who is also bored you and that takes time to tell his own adventures, until you do the same, is an undeniable pleasure. It does not even know my name, and I know hers. However, everyone on our side we outline each of our portrait by our mutual written. Because reading someone that you appreciate, it's discovered a way other than visual, the verbal exchange.

is 24:42. As expected, the morning passes quickly, I must be ready for the course of 14.00, and hope not to miss the bus 18:10. So far I have been fortunate to never end as late, even if in summer the sun sets later, too, it makes me kind of weird. Oh, that reminds me of the day Bac English, the time has gone by so fast, it got dark quickly. It is an undeniable positive reviews, at least if you're part of those who write quickly.

1:01 p.m.. I'll turn off my PC, go to college and stay in this mode that I experienced yesterday, it feels good not to take the lead.

End of Article useless. If there are people who pass, come back in four months instead of stuff to read potentially more fun.

Good Day.