Thoughts on International Women's Day (sorry for the delay)
On the way to the university I pass a flower shop. Actually, to two. Right next to each other, which raises the question of how these two shops can survive with the same product (more often I ask myself this question at Kepab stalls ...). But I will not go into an ecological principle Disskussion on the playing field and market saturation of Blumentandler Bruzzel and kebab stalls.
Much more on the advertising messages in the window of the first flower shop:
"Give her flowers for International Women's Day!"
Apart from this, I find it discriminatory that the International Women's equality and emancipation is, but the World Men's Day, which Incidentally, every year since 2000 on 3 November taking place, "the consciousness of men in the healthcare sector is expanding.
Furthermore, why should I congratulate the women on International Women? Congratulations, you're a woman! I congratulate not make any hedgehog that he is a hedgehog. If I found, despite or perhaps because of the wall a climate, I would assume that the hedgehog I would understand nciht ... whether over or nciht.
So why should I buy a woman flowers, she added two XX daffür Chromosonen. I strongly doubt that the gifted lady handed me seriously on my flowers would reciprocate, "! Thank Even before my generation, I always wanted to be a woman ..."
Again Once apart, some femministische Kampfleseben me also to respond to my flower gift I might make my front teeth in dispute.
love Fraunhofer understand me wrong ... nciht President shall, if it suited for, you will get my vote ... But these days are anything like the International name days: No one really knows exactly why he has such and such a day ... or wesegegen, most of it is also not care ... and no one has actually really helped himself what ...
in this sense ... beautiful flowers to the world women day (sorry for the delay)
Friday, March 16, 2007
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Giving Baby Attention
Run Devil Run
today I go, in my boredom, which the strength of a night "ballet 12-tone music had "the eugenic Schwarzenbergplatz direction Prince Street. The sun is shining and I am Buckl runs the sweat down. As my gaze wandered briefly to the left, it was already too late ... I'm staring a 10 m with large tussi to immortalized, "stand beautification plan" on one of those.
She has a pink-colored bunnies in the arms of a plain collar that, while things could have come from the Humana donation of Paris Hilton. including youth in large embellishing letters, in a dynamics and pretending Scripture. "! Totaly Sexy"
At first glance I was surprised that one may now apply for public traffic in women (the company name sounded kind of ... east). I rejected this idea but shortly it again. But now I wavered between an advertisement for screening of the eyes or fashion. How
after wasting some logical thought heraustellte: was it safe mode.
From herzend hoping that this Christmas tree lying in the arm with Easter Bunny look is not the next trend, I left the scene ... Troen
today I go, in my boredom, which the strength of a night "ballet 12-tone music had "the eugenic Schwarzenbergplatz direction Prince Street. The sun is shining and I am Buckl runs the sweat down. As my gaze wandered briefly to the left, it was already too late ... I'm staring a 10 m with large tussi to immortalized, "stand beautification plan" on one of those.
She has a pink-colored bunnies in the arms of a plain collar that, while things could have come from the Humana donation of Paris Hilton. including youth in large embellishing letters, in a dynamics and pretending Scripture. "! Totaly Sexy"
At first glance I was surprised that one may now apply for public traffic in women (the company name sounded kind of ... east). I rejected this idea but shortly it again. But now I wavered between an advertisement for screening of the eyes or fashion. How
after wasting some logical thought heraustellte: was it safe mode.
From herzend hoping that this Christmas tree lying in the arm with Easter Bunny look is not the next trend, I left the scene ... Troen
Friday, March 2, 2007
Pokemon World Online Beginning
The bar of the failed lives (part 2)
sounds from the sound equipment of a song I know that I can suffer nciht. It's one of those who überrall up and down to be played. One you can escape nciht because some half-deaf record boss thinks that this "song" just the Hyper-Mega-Super-ultimate-mega cracker is. But because of the music is not there anyway ...
At the other end of the bar, it is now one alcoholic homophilic activities. Two men, middle to old age, their friendship get drunk, lie in the arms while they destroy a vodka after another. They have met only a few hours. I know I was there. The two are about conspiracy theories, are likely to pose for her monumental truths that come into the conversation. First came the desperate Trump of the other. On and on. Even the most skeptical would have resigned ... but not these two gentlemen. Was frightening the seriousness with which these phenomenological theory were presented. Not with the utmost effort it can be seen with even a spark of managed irony or sarcasm in her voice, or even in their gestures / facial expressions.
Verschwörungswetteiferns caused this way, was an article about rising oil prices .... fertile ground for conspiracy theories ...
With a match I light my last cigarette. I love the smell of matches. When tamed flame goes out, their existence and meets its intended purpose, it verströmmt letter with delicate force, almost sweet scent that every time evaporates too quickly ... The match as a metaphor for vergenlichkeit of being ....
long time I look at the burned match, I think that between the thumb and index finger. A charred piece of wood. Worthless beautiful and yet ...
I again dedicate my cigarette and let slip the dead match into the ashtray. Slowly I move in the half spent Zigarrette, let slip the smoke into my lungs, invite him to stay briefly before he gesselt to smoky air in that bar. The emerging cough is suppressed skillfully.
a look at my phone tells me that again half an hour has passed ...
sounds from the sound equipment of a song I know that I can suffer nciht. It's one of those who überrall up and down to be played. One you can escape nciht because some half-deaf record boss thinks that this "song" just the Hyper-Mega-Super-ultimate-mega cracker is. But because of the music is not there anyway ...
At the other end of the bar, it is now one alcoholic homophilic activities. Two men, middle to old age, their friendship get drunk, lie in the arms while they destroy a vodka after another. They have met only a few hours. I know I was there. The two are about conspiracy theories, are likely to pose for her monumental truths that come into the conversation. First came the desperate Trump of the other. On and on. Even the most skeptical would have resigned ... but not these two gentlemen. Was frightening the seriousness with which these phenomenological theory were presented. Not with the utmost effort it can be seen with even a spark of managed irony or sarcasm in her voice, or even in their gestures / facial expressions.
Verschwörungswetteiferns caused this way, was an article about rising oil prices .... fertile ground for conspiracy theories ...
With a match I light my last cigarette. I love the smell of matches. When tamed flame goes out, their existence and meets its intended purpose, it verströmmt letter with delicate force, almost sweet scent that every time evaporates too quickly ... The match as a metaphor for vergenlichkeit of being ....
long time I look at the burned match, I think that between the thumb and index finger. A charred piece of wood. Worthless beautiful and yet ...
I again dedicate my cigarette and let slip the dead match into the ashtray. Slowly I move in the half spent Zigarrette, let slip the smoke into my lungs, invite him to stay briefly before he gesselt to smoky air in that bar. The emerging cough is suppressed skillfully.
a look at my phone tells me that again half an hour has passed ...
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Hide Your Ip On Games
music industry
Who was the Winner in the second Starmaina season?
dignity nciht it are "thanks" to the termination of the 3rd of searching, in all the newspapers, I knew nciht. However, I've already forgotten ... become
This question shows how the fast-österreischiche music industry or the global music industry. Music industry. Industry ... This term always reminds me of smoking chimneys, heavy work arrangements, machinery and automated manufacturing.
Automated manufacturing is the most likely explanation of the spa industry.
industry (according to Langenscheidt: 1 no majority branch of material production, which produces goods using mechanical means ECONOMIC second set of plants that produce goods using mechanical means) is the products, in this case, it is just sound, is appropriate for the mass market.
But will you address the quality is the best "Fachwerkstätt. There, the product in hand, can process a lot of sweat and passion until the end of entertainment, social critique, emotions, art and / or whatever comes out. Hand. Custom work.
The artisans choose which M aterials "do they use for their music product, without a Knepelvertrag, which forces them to sing prescribed pieces. indeed, one could almost say it is still far from the places ... Industie ... where music can still be music ... behave
But as in the Free Market It is also in the music industry.
The little "free country" musicians are increasingly displaced by the mass music-entertainment ....
but I am confident light. The music industry can ever faster to breed the nine flowers of the free countries ... but also faster and get new flowers (sorry / thank God, other family) to ...
nciht And last is the scorched earth fertile ground for the eternal cycle of music.
(what a moronic ... but it also had to be said ... over and out)
Who was the Winner in the second Starmaina season?
dignity nciht it are "thanks" to the termination of the 3rd of searching, in all the newspapers, I knew nciht. However, I've already forgotten ... become
This question shows how the fast-österreischiche music industry or the global music industry. Music industry. Industry ... This term always reminds me of smoking chimneys, heavy work arrangements, machinery and automated manufacturing.
Automated manufacturing is the most likely explanation of the spa industry.
industry (according to Langenscheidt: 1 no majority branch of material production, which produces goods using mechanical means ECONOMIC second set of plants that produce goods using mechanical means) is the products, in this case, it is just sound, is appropriate for the mass market.
But will you address the quality is the best "Fachwerkstätt. There, the product in hand, can process a lot of sweat and passion until the end of entertainment, social critique, emotions, art and / or whatever comes out. Hand. Custom work.
The artisans choose which M aterials "do they use for their music product, without a Knepelvertrag, which forces them to sing prescribed pieces. indeed, one could almost say it is still far from the places ... Industie ... where music can still be music ... behave
But as in the Free Market It is also in the music industry.
The little "free country" musicians are increasingly displaced by the mass music-entertainment ....
but I am confident light. The music industry can ever faster to breed the nine flowers of the free countries ... but also faster and get new flowers (sorry / thank God, other family) to ...
nciht And last is the scorched earth fertile ground for the eternal cycle of music.
(what a moronic ... but it also had to be said ... over and out)
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Sabrina Sweet With Black Men
The bar of the failed lives (part 1)
"The bar of the failed lives," Mathias
Bursa
three clock at night. a cheap bar somewhere in Vienna. the stool has been my weight for 4 clock noon. That was the time where I've entered the hut and a beer to destroy the other. left me an old become hard rocker. under his black pirate scarf curled his white, thin hair had become. His deep wrinkles on their face to show the cruelty of age and erzälen of better times, dreaming of, probably of many disappointments. otherwise he would not clock up 3 nights in this damned bar sitting next to me and to his tiefn Cola Rum look. he is silent, sits hunched over his glass and leaves every 5 minutes a sigh that will probably entice someone to talk into his world. Normally
I would speak to him, ask him what is going on, alla kum, ma dei dazähl gschicht i hear there zua ... But nciht today. Today I needed someone to even listen to me. But this fact I will not admit to myself, so I bezauberden the only beings in this bar, the waitress already taken a severe, Lalle: "Ludmilla, to give ma no tequila and a beer." communication so that my workload is aufgebracuht. I also more Bruach ncih. Kutz time later the deputy I ma tequilla into brain and rinse it with a sip of beer down. was the last sip of the last bottle ... I hate the last sip ... no idea whether he is really disgusting, or whether it is the last spark of some that wants to tell me that already another beer is empty.
now it is half past three.
To be continued ... maybe ...
'd like some feedback ...
"The bar of the failed lives," Mathias
Bursa
three clock at night. a cheap bar somewhere in Vienna. the stool has been my weight for 4 clock noon. That was the time where I've entered the hut and a beer to destroy the other. left me an old become hard rocker. under his black pirate scarf curled his white, thin hair had become. His deep wrinkles on their face to show the cruelty of age and erzälen of better times, dreaming of, probably of many disappointments. otherwise he would not clock up 3 nights in this damned bar sitting next to me and to his tiefn Cola Rum look. he is silent, sits hunched over his glass and leaves every 5 minutes a sigh that will probably entice someone to talk into his world. Normally
I would speak to him, ask him what is going on, alla kum, ma dei dazähl gschicht i hear there zua ... But nciht today. Today I needed someone to even listen to me. But this fact I will not admit to myself, so I bezauberden the only beings in this bar, the waitress already taken a severe, Lalle: "Ludmilla, to give ma no tequila and a beer." communication so that my workload is aufgebracuht. I also more Bruach ncih. Kutz time later the deputy I ma tequilla into brain and rinse it with a sip of beer down. was the last sip of the last bottle ... I hate the last sip ... no idea whether he is really disgusting, or whether it is the last spark of some that wants to tell me that already another beer is empty.
now it is half past three.
To be continued ... maybe ...
'd like some feedback ...
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