Eml Series E100 Instructions

I still have four seasons and tonight I have to be ashamed of emo

that I am a big believer in signs.

in times of crisis - or 90% of my existence up to this time - the signs help me to make critical decisions.
you know, those signs are things of random events, people, animals and words that seem to happen specifically to talk to you and solve your problems.
is clear that we must have a particular sensitivity to steal their message, is not that the signs are there to offer universal solutions, but that's the great thing, because if anyone there would be nothing unusual in that billboard lying forgotten corner of the street of the neighborhood, but you see all us a speech, we find a useful path to exit the Empire where you're stuck.

few days ago I would have said that this was a time of crisis, but it is also true that a few days ago I took for granted that the hamster would be nice to hibernate.
but I underestimated the fact that Murphy's law rages on me with the fury of a hungry piranha. for a moment I wanted to feel optimistic.

effects in hand, I'm in crisis, and all because of Mr. requirement or mr. requirement, as if you will.
I'm in crisis and looking for a sign that tells me exactly what to do, because I have not the faintest idea.

as I slipped on his pajamas after yet another evening spent away from home and this time in the immediate vicinity of the character referred to above, I told myself that I need a dress for media time.
in the end we are in spring and I start to feel a certain impatience with the sweaters and winter coats padded, yet at the same time I am not yet ready for sleeveless or even worse, stripped stark naked wearing shirts Beloved micro summer.
rummaged in my drawers, but if I realize I have nothing that will work to overcome the not too cold and not too hot for this mild April.

is clear that the seasons are not just a container, and if I think the climate I would say that there is nothing wrong most of those cliches that say that the seasons no longer exist.
this is a sound idiocy: the seasons there and I I'm suffering the consequences.
because if the seasons are in transition and preparation, I can confirm that there are still and in my case I are quickly ready to face yet another defeat by the beautiful and impossible at this point I do not even need to name.

tonight mr. requirement was in the neighborhood again and this time there was no need to put put up the antennas to pick up his presence: I have collected first-hand information about his movements and I decided to andargli still meeting with the dignity of a person that has matured and has overcome the disappointment of his last, relentless refusal.

Well I used all my skills concealment to interact civilly with him and I also went well. I must say that I was pretty pleased with myself while I sat in the car to go home (praying that the police do not detain me because I would withdraw the license and fined hundreds of euro since the alcohol in my blood).
but then how do you explain the fact that it was not much that it was nearly three o'clock in the morning, I thought, and seriously, to stop and wait for the house to talk to him?
hours while I was driving I thought I stop and wait until you get back. I knew that he was going to mmomenti.
and no, I would have spoken, but I probably would have beaten my eyelashes strong ipertruccate then occupy his place to live and kiss up to asphyxia.

sure that I would have done, and thank goodness I had not drunk at that point.

so I bypassed his palace with panoramic views and sadly I'm back to my much more humble residential condominium.

I put the key in the door and I stumbled upon a flyer that asked me all-caps: are you ready for the challenge?
I looked at him carefully and then I said now I write a blog.

because that question is my sign of the day. that does not solve anything but also helps me to focus on the situation.
that mr. requirement is only competition?
if I think of as I angrily passed his car driving home, pushing the throttle as hard as I could, not even I expected that the toxic cloud released from my muffler finally Knock down the insignificant little woman who wore below, I tell myself that maybe it is just to take a revenge on him.
because in the end he made me suffer. and even a little.
but if I widen the horizon or, more simply, I look in the mirror and I speak honestly I say no and that the only challenge that I encounter is to regain it.
that there is nothing to do: I'm really in love with this man.

maybe I just need to believe it. maybe I just need to There are, who knows. but if it is true that the seasons are four, and now it is spring, I expect that the road from now on because it's all downhill from the desire to die literally melt in the sun dell'ammmmmmore.

Measurements Silkstone Barbie

late night

I know, I know I have absconded.
I eclipsed for weeks.
I am aware and I play the mea culpa.

I know, I left to languish this space for too long, so much so that I do not even remember when was the last time I set foot here in the realm of undisputed that hyperactive parasite that has colonized my neural network.
but I must admit that I had other more important commitments to care: in fact have been too busy to avoid the social apocalypse to take care of my furry garden gnome, but if I find myself today write here, at half past two at night, I'm forced to admit that something did not go the right way.
and that something has to do with the failure of methadone treatment to which I submitted the hamster biturbo.
the dangerous animal is awake and is giving me the serious hard time.
awkward one who is dangerously assuming the appearance of a sleepless night.

the problem is that medicine has failed and the hormone has gone crazy again.

hate to admit it, but because of my lack of sleep is due to deafening clatter of the damn hamsters, I thought I had finally been sedated for a couple of weeks.

but tonight something happened because the teenager who still dwells in the recesses of my person reappear in his worst role, that of the nostalgic moaning.

the fact is that I had some kind of parapsychological experience, a sort of close encounter of the third type, a moment of mystical union with the otherworldly that made me feel suddenly like demi moore in ghost when hacking away at his clay pots unless I missed the joy of touch spiritually orgasmic Patrick Swazi or whatever you call him.
neither more nor less than the manifestation of the ghost of mr. need, right there in front of me, beautiful as the sun, smiling and serene and just when I said never, never see him.

was he, really. throughout his carefree youth.
and I was, in my tired old age.

has spoken little, he joked and I tried, I swear, I desperately tried not to smile too much but I had the facial muscles that I reached out for themselves and the hands that in the absence of other floated in the air wishing you were to suddenly find themselves wielding a cigarette, to have the excuse to stop just to describe larger and larger concentric circles around my person.
nervous when you see, there is little to be done.
and he was there, stiff, comfortable to challenge all my self control not to perform an act absolutely self-destructive and spread his arms like mayonnaise on a slice of hot potato.
that humiliation for me.

I did not even have time to record the presence of mr. need and think that maybe it was just my hallucination, I hope with all my strength, that the hamster is put in motion with the violence of an army of suicide bombers in the brain by reducing the puree.
there was no way that I stop talking, or rather squawking for a quarter of an hour even though I had absolutely nothing to say.
the brain had stopped working.
and has started only now, after four hours because the damn chiendendosi Hindu pantheon with its poisonous load of bad karma wanted again hammering on me representing them mr. need as my mother would re-awaken a plate of rice and cabbage heated.

I mean it was a terrible moment, deciding how to split the chalk with ten days in advance of the prescription or discontinue their antibiotics when fever starts to go down and I was not prepared for this. I had simply not expected.
and now I am scared because the hamster is really angry and I threw the methadone down the pipe of the sink.

someone has a solution?!