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The other day I had an accident and had to have surgery to shock or death. Shock and the surgeon chose me that the disaster was such that all the organs, viscera and other internal blandiblubs were misplaced and did not know what I could do to save me. The other option being death, the doctor and I came to the conclusion that it was best to remove all thoughtlessly exclaimed an nianonianoniaaaaa ( © Tamariz) at the end and see what happened.

The quacks took scalpel, picks and shovels and Radiolé tuned. To begin, I put the kidneys in place of the lungs. I lost a lot of breath and the breath I smelled of urine stored, those stale bar bathroom, but I solved periodic flushing toilet duck. I produced a semblance rabid foam spurting out of the corners of my lips and that, coupled with the constant panting, it seems to scare people. The alternative option would not let me: o halitosis stifle Urinary or pine-scented soap.

This man left him better

lungs started to occupy the site of my genitals. Thus, each erection became a yes but no. Instead of blood, pumped the air with the same frequency that breathing and then the sexual act itself up as a show of inflation / deflation worthy of a circus. A circus quite sad and useless. The climax came in cough so procreation discarded at least for the duration of the new organizational change and appalling at the same time.

limbs were a separate drama. I went to have our hands where once dwelt the ears. So, for me and there was the magnitude of strong or weak volume, but rough, soft, hard, soft, etc. Sound was a touch. The awful ridiculous came when I wanted to applaud and autohumillaba slapping her cheeks. Same sound, but very annoying pain and redness. For all these changes, thanks doctor, and forget to buy a loaf of bread for dinner, my partner left me that old dog on a side street.

What big eyes And I do not believe it! The worst is yet to be told. Despite the spendthrift of quacks, probably in another country veterinarian, more or less able to adapt to this new composition until I decided to leave a day's march. At the wrong time, of course. The failure was such that no woman was able to look at me and is in the eye sockets rested now my testicles, scrotum and hair which included wires. This gave me an interesting profile to be sick very long eyelashes (and curvy) already wanted the slut of the star system jolibudiense. Still, all the women with whom I met in branded me out, could not bear the look cojonciana that tried to seduce. If you know where I have one eye that I had after the accident ...

Tic

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Who do you angry? Injera

After three years in this way and that we may have missed things, related to the adoption of regulatory changes in trade rumors, of approaching changes, threats to close the country, times of ring trials, changes of legal proceedings, changes and changes and changes ... Who or what are you angry when, in the final stretch, do not understand the change?

This is my big existential questions this week ... I'm angry, but I have anyone to get angry, and this is tremendously contradictory, and ultimately even makes me laugh when I put profoundly sad!

Of all these things over the past three years I have understood, accepted and applauded by many, almost all ... But these last ... Cost me to assimilate and fit them. Of course, I do not understand, only that.

But not understanding does not mean compliance, and here we are, as in a time tunnel stupid, just at the same point where we began: to deliver some papers and hoping to do the interviews, a decision by someone who does not I can contact to say that I agree, I do not understand!

My conclusion of the week: do not goats, it makes no sense ... The problems are not problems if you have a solution. So get to work and a blur, as the situation requires. And in so fast I'm getting everything ready, I'm wrong in the middle: Nerves + hurry + no-find-the-way = wrong!

Luckily it seems that nothing will be left standing ... to see if he takes all the same rush that I get to me! :-)

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Neither anxiolytic or night television programming calmed the nervous tic he had since he was twelve years scratching insistently right eyebrow. The usual bleeding and why the wound remained open continuously and blood stains on the sofa were part of the original print.

The eyebrow in question

name

When Fernincolate Symposium felt a presence following him was frightened. Walked down a narrow alley, dimly lit and randomly distributed pools. It looked like a scary movie, and in some ways it was what I was feeling Symposium, a terrible fear. He stopped before a corner and questioned particularly disturbing. At the bend did not know what would be and that distressed him even more. Remained lurking, even made an attempted head out. The Guardians of the names would hunt him sooner or later. Symposium knew that there was no escape. Tired and with tears in his eyes, entered the court, taking his defeat and filling out the form.

No eggs

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Getting drunk is like old movies. Things happen with less frames per second.

The Lumiere, a drunk pro

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pouring with rain and thunder seemed likely to cause a massive outbreak of the windows in my building. I ran to the door, opened it, took the elevator and cursed the former snuff user why stank. On top was black. The snuff, say . A sharp ding, the doors opened and I was standing in my seventh floor, removing wet clothing. Lie, why there was such a ding that only happens in the hotel elevators. Nor had wet clothes. But I live in a seventh .

clothes I wore around the house, is old, worn, ragged, dirty, with balls, holes and released several other, plugged the mini and then went to wipe the fridge. not fail, the insatiable hunger for six in the afternoon. They also smelled snuff. Then came the coup.

waking, dazed, tried to move but my arms and legs were shackled by ropes and leather straps. What's ropes I always sounded loose morals woman, not rope. I tried to scream but my tongue had been severed and he could only spit blood. I twisted and turned his head, all I could see was an ashtray with a cigar before everything turned black. As snuff, not the individual.

Milena;velba;in;open;bra

Saturday, is early but I can not sleep more! Last night I was soooo tired that I fell round on the couch, I know not the hour! But I have been good hours of sleep ...

Last week, at this hour, we'd wake up in Segovia, in a farmhouse, surrounded by friends who celebrated (to their surprise) MA 40 years I slept little the weekend!

Around precipitated. Gabi's mother had fallen. Few hours of sleep on Sunday.

On Tuesday night, at Barcelona, \u200b\u200bthe presentation of the record of a coworker. Night partying with mates and all the next day hikes. I slept little.

On Wednesday, I was so tired I could not sleep!

And last night, when they finally fell on the couch came to me all the sleep debt y. .. just remember to have risen to the room! :-)

This has been a week of emails and calls from fellow travelers ... Families are so close to never stop doing calculations and cabals and call or stop by the ECAI. I do not know ... This is contradictory! We are so near the end and yet so uncertain that I can not even get my hopes thinking! If it had kept pace with previous assignments, we'd be, but as this rate does not know metric, that has not happened! Therefore, no getting around better and get on with our lives, waiting for the so-called dream ...

I have little more inspiration today must be the result of many hours of sleep! So ... good weekend!

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DARK INDULGENCE

I want to tell the story of a painting, called "Capricho" is one of my books and reflects a path bucolic autumn .

The title is the whole meaning of the word, me, me "besotted" to paint the landscape. At home, they told me not paint a picture of that photo, which was a screensaver for Windows XP and was very trite, "I do not mind And I told them I was equal I liked and I wanted to find out where that place was so beautiful.

I began to search the net and found the story of Nick Tosches, a writer of nonfiction, U.S. also "fancy" of this idea.

According to him, wanted to walk down the road and even buy a house near the grove. He became an obsession and put all his energy to do so.

This tough process almost a year of research involves his friends in the search. Photo editors, researchers, data .... All sought that path fall everywhere.

After many months and to search thousands of pictures, found the called, "Autumn Leaves falling on the trail," the author was Peter K. Burian.

This photographer took the photo in 1997 and was taken in Kilbride (Burlington) Ontario, Canada .

Peter, traveled after many years to where did the photo and a phone call of the most exciting to inform you Nick Tosches that he had found, was most famous trail in front of the net.

never know if Nick traveled to Ontario, there is no proof, it remains a mystery to this story.

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PROGRAM 31 - SUNDAY 20 FEBRUARY 2011 - Aníbal Troilo "Pichuco"

A LARGE MUSICA DE BUENOS AIRES, evoking his finest performances, WORSHIPPED BY THE PUBLIC Tanguera. I INVITE YOU TO SHARE OUR TRIBUTE ....

NOW YOU CAN LISTEN TO THE ISSUE No. 31 DEDICATED TO "Pichuco"

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. But more times than I care to,

appears dark on my way.

Without warning, swift and sudden,

comes with pain as a company.

You feel like a vice that will press the soul,

With so much intensity you feel short of breath.

feel a cold sweat in despair,

Fear will you exhausted and grief overwhelms.

Te questions why? That

hicieste wrong?

where you were wrong?

How did this even though your life. Words

die unanswered

Impotence sense of failure and emptiness in the soul .

only hope,

light again despite my sadness.

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fragments

In every way, I think I have more developed is the smell. Fortunately or unfortunately I behave like a bloodhound and aromas negligible for most mortals. At first it was frustrating, no one understood me and go down the street became an exercise in individual olfactory.

- Have you smelled it?

-No.

- "Now what?

"Neither.

My nose exercised monologues and could not share any sense. Now I'm the same, but I'm used to. This intensity has made me appreciate the good always smells like paint, gasoline, peat or coffee. However, they also come to me and unfortunately I adapted to increased perception of odors. In this sense, it would be very easy to say Brussels sprouts or smelly shit, that's clear. So you have to go further and classify those perfumes that make us wrinkle the face, gagging and even defecated on top, resulting stench incorporated.

I'll take a CV here

My personal taxonomy includes such delights as the depilatory. Circumstances of fate have always lived surrounded by female relatives and, therefore, surrounded by depilatory cream. An ointment that short hair can never be healthy. Nobody wondered where it comes? Does it come from outer space? Is life itself? "It feeds on hair? Each time the house is flooded with putrid air that depilatory cream I'm honking at the airport to Germany. The legend seems to be true and Teutonic look matted hair to the wind in the legs and probably in more places. Only the vision of women as Chewbacca makes turn around to my home nauseating. I make the return trip home, airport several times appalled by the hair or the cream that clears the map. It is a sinvivir and I fell or I run out of gas.

Farts also not escape this classification. For me, and I hope for you too, are a source of fun and joy as the maxim "better out than in" is my physical and spiritual guide. There are many types of sales as people in the world but I do not deny that there is a combination that blows biohazard weapons. Go to the cinema to watch a movie and a ration median comm popcorn (also known as white styrofoam those things that sell for 3 euros) and wait. Typically the incubation period coincides with the length of the film (or crappy if you dare see infumable Sad Ballad Biutiful or trumpet).

Aerial photo of my house after Sad Ballad trumpet see

Thereafter, the reaction has already begun and is unstoppable. The expelled gas flaring pants, and a sofa and goes to the neighbor in the form of smog. The smell is so intense and pervasive that it solidifies and falls into cubes breaking tiles, beams and cars, if it comes to parking. I think I've gone so far as to correlate the quality of the film with the toxicity of the gas, because the two mentioned above led to the breakup of three partitions, permanent baldness several bystanders and three blocks momentary darkness.

Finally, they also say that the paving of the streets I also produce nausea and dread. It seems that the cars in my neighborhood must circulate with crampons attached to their wheels and the floor, I imagine, will deteriorate at an unprecedented pace. If not, do not understand how the asphalted every month and a half (and also take the opportunity to change all water pipes, gas and cables that are in the basement). This is being done with machines that seem drawn from the industrial revolution.

infernal noise, fumes to Chernobyl, bulky and black workers movements. Just like a century ago. Not to mention the stickiness of the material. And posts, asphalt licorice. Equals of dark, too sticky, but at least we won in aroma. As I'm sure someone hates licorice, it is best to return to the dirt roads and diligence. I say, go.

And you, are you fucking smell?

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PROGRAM N ° 30 - SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2011 - MARIA ELENA WALSH

A LITTLE DAYS OF HIS DISAPPEARANCE, WE OFFER LOVING TRIBUTE TO OUR MORE AROUND YOU FROM OUR CHILDREN GIVING HIS LOVE THROUGH THEIR SONGS, books, poetry, YOUR ANGEL .....

NOT MISS THE TRIBUTE TO MARIA ELENA, AND YOU CAN LISTEN AND BACK TO BEING A LITTLE GUYS AGAIN .... ALSO FOR THOSE WHO NEVER cease being .....!!!!!

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PROGRAM N ° 29 - SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 2011 - TERESA

INVITES YOU TO BEGIN OUR SECOND SEASON, TO HONOR TWO GREAT WOMEN OF INTERPRETIVE PERSONALITY, and politically engaged with life.

LILIANA HERRERO AND TERESA PARODI

AND YOU CAN HEAR THE TRIBUTE TO TERESA AND LILIANA,

to get excited ....!!!!

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First of all HAPPY NEW YEAR to everyone s which asomáis you from time to time to this small window ... Health and tod @ s work, which extend our hij @ s @ s, for those who still has a long wait, to try to take it with patience and not lose hope!

For me, enter the year 2011 has been repaired ... I ended 2010 with a major slump! Collapsed my mind! Waiting along so well, so busy with projects as motivators that when I finished, I fell ... What now, asks that I was hanging around every minute and I was discouraged. I was already all that started, not knowing if he had time to finish and did not reach our little @!

few days have been hard, as it had not taken three years of waiting ... But I set myself back in some remote corner, illusion, hope and patience ... And start another project, short-range, but allow me to continue motivating things until the time comes.

And so I finished the year ... With each of the grapes I proposed this and the next day, the father of the child (which so much support right now!) Gave me a great day: went to eat at a new Ethiopian restaurant in Barcelona, \u200b\u200bAddis Ababa and then to the Cirque du Soleil. The Addis Ababa: very, very useful. Takes the same guy who was in the Abissinia and we were lucky to be alone for a while and enjoy his company, learned more from Ethiopia, with the things he told us ...

So, the symbolism of leaving a year and enter the other, the "contact" Ethiopia and personal effort, minute by minute to recover, I think back to my "I" ... :-)

few days ago one of my best friends wrote me this email:

"You cheer (I know this is easy to write and speak), it is normal that you do heavier, pq and you're just playing with the fingertips, and you become more impatient, like, relatively speaking, when you go to take holidays and the last days are a lot heavier and it seems that these much more tired and which never come (for that multiply it by 1000). You will see when you with "my nephew" on your arms around this and it will not matter and even remember with a smile, or not, but what is certain that when you're in that situation, and have nothing more important than these eyes and that smile. Animo MOM, and are the last contractions, there are only a few pushes in and out. That if these should be pushed forward and with a smile on my face that what next is to see his face. Grab strength, rest a while and empujaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Big kiss and take care. Also to the Pope that is very important to wipe the sweat out and grab the hand with love, with love.
I love you. "

Well here I am, picking up strength for the final push because if anything I have proposed in this comeback is that, no way, I get tired and encouragement to one of the most of my life ... :-)

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Smell Kings

awake I'm still here and still no one has come. Is it because I'ma Republican? Or because I have done wrong? Do I have to leave something for the camels? Perhaps they could leave something for me. I think neither one thing nor the other. In the end, almost certain that the Kings do not exist. I've asked my mother and told me I'm an asshole, that to see if he started to straighten my life and work a little. I told her that I have a job, part time, but job after all. Then called me lazy and fat hippie and hung up.

Given this juncture I decided to research in depth (uiquipediar euphemism) and, for starters, I discovered that there are no kings. Magi, that is their occupation. (Note: It is known that the East has never been much of monarchies, are doing more absolutist roll). If they are so magicians as they say, could at least bring a hat or some letters and make a couple or three tricks. Many crown and cloak to the end, be impostors. Sure are fake beard. Everything smells fishy: some kings that are actually magicians from the East but have Western features who come home at night by stealth and they are dressed in costumes outmoded. And to top it off, sometimes leaving a suspicious package when pretending to be gifts, when opened, we are clothing. Clothes! Since when is a gift pajamas? Rabble!

So I would believe more

to document more of what I have lost the todoacién East, but all I found was a game of Magic wand Borrás something chewed, plastic crown, at the counter, a mustache chinorri the classic Chinese do not know if it's hair, mustache, or if it has been painted with black Bic pen. By questioning, I just responded with multiples of fifty cents or one euro. It will be a coded language. So no, the suspect's identity remains a mystery trio.

On returning home, I shuddered thinking about my possible gifts. If you rule out the clothes, the literature speaks of three elements. What is that gold, frankincense and myrrh? The gold it could sell some gypsies who swarm around my neighborhood, or teeth to get a rich rapper, but the rest is infamous and certainly suspect. Incense only it would give to someone with serious problems who ran a smell, or soap shop, necklaces from India and other supplies unusable. And myrrh ... What they had not ever seen? Here goes:

Mirren myrrh. (Ja, ja and ja)

Imagine that after much letter to Santa and both Paripe, they bring such a pile of manure mixed with dry land and above passing by monarchs, when in fact the old Magic Andreu . Sure to catch it, it crumbles and myrrh are everywhere. The first thing I would do would be to check the tile with cash, jewelry, liquor cabinet. I bet most of a bottle will have suffered a decline in content.

Well, I think eventually I'll be asleep and awoke to find me a house full of coal, but not by kings or magicians or Orientals, but because I am preparing a coffee and I feel that I leave the stove on.