Eating Habits Of Quagga

been recycling and magical photographic and

I was writing this post two weeks ago, but I had plenty of technical problems. Photos not climbed, were very large, appearing as empty or flat objects Firefox made a wordsearch with HTML code. Oh, how unlucky moments, how much internal struggle, what thoughts so heinous ...

But here it is again, until finally I realized that my life is worthless without Safari. I present the highly anticipated Post on the pictures of my Twitpic, originally began:

If you do not follow me on Twitter, which should be thankful because I really do not distinguish by being a poet of brevity, I go up to block some images that have been hosted in my Twitpic recent months. So it does not look like an ugly recycling humorous add comments to feel good about myself and remind me not posting just for posting like this ugly people who just postea for posting.

start with a beautiful picture of my new adolescent infatuation, Sweden Alexander Skarsgård. The other day I was thinking why lately, if I had not happened in about twelve years, I am committing childish infatuations with men unattainable film and television. I found the answer. Maybe it's time off. My hormones go confusing, such as menopausal lady. Or maybe repressed this aspect of mine for many years and now, with a life made and a debt to the Treasury, appears suddenly with renewed strength.

know.

Section: time is not wasted and I was quite a fan of Friends but no mames net, that is, no mames, what fart.

This picture was taken of Awkward Family Photos . Is supposed to be funny, but at first did not know why (the caption said, "Where's Aunt Telci.") Then I saw more closely and what happened was that I gave a little cry solo in the chill of the study. Just watch it slowly ... and die.

The truth, I am well KStew fan. Very hard. I like his attitude and no walks with you paint pelotudeces and double finger to paparazzi in a hotel eight thousand stars in Australia. Of course, as anyone with functioning brain, I hate the character of Bella. But I know in the future again Kristen good movies, like when she dresses seventies and breaks of hotel rooms. Rock!

Steven Hewitt complimented me on my birthday. Not anymore. It was so exciting that I went outside in his underwear and screamed for two full minutes. Mr. Wallace Porter died of envy. Then my excitement as it cooled, I thought that surely Mr. Hewitt has a robot that celebrates all his fans on Facebook, but what heck Matters: Steven Hewitt complimented me on my birthday and that's worth the ridicule that I faced my neighbors.

The hail again. Like when it rains in the field. I took this photo from a second floor window, the ice balls are barely noticeable, but I liked the landscape.

My card Banamex, stolen on February 13, 2010, took four months to get my power. Not only Estafeta jerks could not find my address, but I had to go to the branch in Polanco for kindly gave me. Instead, I send a package from Finland and arrived in less than a month. What a painful contrast: Scandinavian efficiency against ... whatever Mexico.

By the way, express a view hosted by Google Street View to the small town of Kemijärvi, located north of the Arctic Circle.

my village is also on Google Street View. This goes for all the people who doubt the existence of a place so as fabulantástico Polotitlan of Figure , founded by the Polo brothers, heroic combatants in our war of Independence, Goei.

In high school I made this drawing that accurately portrays the faces of my great friend Hugazio, Paulina and me. I did the ride, obviously , and then did little ball and threw it to the trash. But Hugo, who loved the rawness of my strokes, and rescued exorcised ran like a masterpiece. In he appreciated the realism with which I self-portrait: the curly hair in open rebellion, born crooked teeth and eyebrows that almost made one.

When Comrade Gregory was here, I asked several times what it meant be naco . N explain or higher. Then, when I myself was in the southern continent, my friends asked me what exactly we called the Mexican naco. I suffered while I tried to make a synthesis between bad taste and vulgarity ridiculous, say thousands of examples, but none had the desired effect. Then I took this picture in the food court of 222 reform and knew nothing better illustrated to me the concept of naquez.

Ah, the goalkeeper love. My faithful companion in Colonia Juarez. When I searched on Google Street View my street, why not? there it was: faithful, unchanging, everlasting as calluses.

Since I started reading Bunsen, Jorge Pinto knew I had secretly inspired David to create my uncle Victor. The picture is not very good, but you can clearly see the amazing resemblance. My uncle did not walk drunk, because it is a respectable subject, but he closed his eyes when some moron who gave the camera here (I hope that was not my dad). My Uncle David is the wave, the sure. The wave is small. It is even more cool Victor.

Speaking Bunsen, one of my informal forays into the world of web-comics * and * the analysis of relationships.

American blue cheese. The best invention of the century. If this had existed when I was little, I bet no one in the primary would have bothered me. It would have been the most popular. It would have been the girl of the sandwiches "blue cheese."

One of the book-obj ethos more treasure. "The trial of Colonel Sweet and Other Stories." Autographed. With behind the scenes and strips that never saw the light, including that of the child who gives her ballet slippers to a girl in a wheelchair, and how Gurewitch ever written know whether he had done with malice or prejudice came from adults who, shocked, dragged the baby sweater out of the party. The Perry Bible Fellowship is a web-ed mic most wonderful the world is stupidly funny and is a true work of art in terms of style and art.

Obviously, I never miss a chance to show it off. In your face, you.
(and was a gift, a beautiful gift)

Speaking of gifts, my dear Elisa gave me this sweater last year. I loved it instantly. Is beagle, is warm and comfortable. Contrary to what seems, does not sting. What I said is very beagle? It's like hugging a teddy bear all the time.

Photoshop Disaster in Google Street View. We should find all there is. Or not: it would be tedious and less challenging to find, for example, prostitutes on the street and bare-chested men having a beer tin.

My dear Gezeta made my cartoon. Is minimal and is dedicated, and in the future to feed subastaré fifteen cats who live on the top floor of a collapsed building.

In those days, I do not know how, Fayer Tony ended in my former dept and fell into the vulgarity of releasing blood from the nose. What he did, very wisely, was made a cap with my Hello Kitty toilet paper and take a picture. Perhaps the influence of super-gay toilet paper, he got a red heart. The appearance of the Virgin Mary's love and the role of Hello Kitty.

Who does not play with Photo Booth emetics exercises misplaced narcissism? The trouble is that when I do look Regan's The Exorcist, only more bad vibes.

If Condesa use while walking on the walk to my imaginary dog, hot-pants look like American Apparel or Mod Cloth. But if I use myself and take a picture, just to remind the market that are Pino Suarez subway back and that cost ten dollars.

On the red carpet awards latino Emtiví, Placebo. My old mule is not what it was, but who cares, one does not exceed fanfromhellismo of overnight. Needless.

poetic image or a non-strawberry smoothie that will keep several days in the refrigerator. When I wanted to drink, was a mass asquerosona. Illustrates the ephemeral nature of life, or not.

depressing picture. Is the photo that you paste in your fridge the next time you save the needles to heroin. Or the next Once you prepare your check. Or the next time you eat your blemish. Or the next time you see Parent Trap . Think twice the next could be you.

There is a cafe in Orizaba almost Chiapas, in Rome, where they have the best apple muffins in the world (or at least the street I do not know of muffins, mine are the drugs). But the best thing that place is asking for a strawberry cow tip. No two like her.

I was playing Mortal Kombat online. You can use the keys on your computer as if it were the rough buttons arcades of old. The pixel image quality is as bad as the original. And the best part: you do not need five dollars in change.

Like Rob Pattinson, what can I do. I went down in all his films torrent obtainable legally. In this tipín makes a half-crazy with its original English accent and hair long. This is what in the jargon of the internetz is known as RobPorn.

perfect trolling IMDB.com forums

involuntarily Since I talked about Twilight in my fotopost, a thing I did to upset the comfort of my home taxable hairdressing department responsible for a film with a budget of millions of dollars. dunces

Sample Business Plan Of Chicken Wholesale

Because you asked: more thoughts arbitrary

1. I remember once, long ago, I fell asleep on the couch watching television. In the morning my mom came down the stairs and found me curled made in front of the TV on. "Why do not you go to bed?" He asked, and I opened my eyes and saw in the hallway, and for a second did not understand what I spoke, I was still in half-sleep, in that state where means sure what to is happening, and my brain could not understand much. He saw but did not know who he was until I joined, I saw it best and said "I'm coming" and to say I felt I did not know at all that person looked at me, and that person is also knew me.
I was scared.
How could I not know my mother? How could it be like a stranger at the time? From then on I was elsewhere, in a rather nebulous place where I am not part of anything and I can not recognize the faces of the people I've seen all my life. Sometimes even when I talk with her and I have so much confidence and I feel there woman who wants more in life, I remember there was a second where I thought it was a complete unknown, as if he had been abducted by aliens, I have erased the memory, and I have inserted in the house of an unknown family , which had never seen.
is horrible.
Whenever I have these nightmares where I'm Nicolas Cage in Family Guy, and awake in an alternate reality as an integral part of a family that I know and I have to pretend I'm "Dad", I know where the shelf of medicines, where they keep the towels and how to take coffee in the house.
is, I say, horrible.

2. When I was in Buenos Aires I went to MALBA to see an exhibition of Andy Warhol that it would close within weeks. The first time I went, as did my tour of Recoleta with Nicholas, the Chilean I have spoken before, had a long queue to get me to give up that day. I was after a Wednesday afternoon, and the line gave him around the block. I said there was no time and, selflessly, I trained.
that I know that Buenos Aires is the capital of fashion.
I realized I was in front row fashionistas longest in history, all subjects were in their twenties, were the fashionable hairstyles, shoes and clothing curious eccentrically combined. All spoke acentito with Buenos Aires and read books by Dostoyevsky while smoking his Lucky Strike. So
paradota while I was seeing and told locals hipsters in the head until hour and a half later, it was my turn to go.
I did, I saw the works, I laughed a little, went to the bathroom, came back, I read things, and I left. When I was crossing the Avenida Libertador, a girl stopped me. He asked if I could take a picture. I put a head in shame and confusion maximum, and when I would ask why, came forward and told me I was doing a fashion project for class and do not know how he had loved my outfit and please, if you did not bother me, let him take my picture. So I did my most successful attempt at a pose (hand on her waist, eyes empty) and the girl I took the picture, then said goodbye with a kiss and went bouncing up giving the Malba. I
god at that time.
I can not tell what it was my outfit because that would ruin the excitement. Just know that I sang a song from the Bee Gees as he walked to catch the bus (which of course took it wrong and where I certainly humbled at all).

3. I also remember when I went to that village in Chile, Pumanque, the Catholic university. I made friends on all of a girl named Valerie, who had a tempestuous relationship with her boyfriend . I liked it very sarcastic and not moving a finger to lift beams or load clothes, so we ipso facto crumbs. The next day I found myself in the camp drinking pisco with individuals mentioned and a Catholic girls rank sat with me, I do not remember his name, but it was extremely thin. He told me that the "leader" of the expedition was her boyfriend recently, but she was dead of shame because for two days could not take a bath. Then, from nowhere, she began to speak in English. I had to laugh and said nothing, but then I noticed that rich kids have the habit of getting to speak English for any reason. While she was with three others arrived they began to talk in the language of Shakespeare with an accent worse than Penelope Cruz and again I was in the twilight zone, a dimension where he did not know whether it was better to laugh or mourn.
Fortunately, Valeria came and rescued me. Milk was so bad that even a stranger.

4. I have wanted to abandon the extreme physical activity. When I was little my hyperactivity peleítas channeled my cousin John, we aventábamos pillows, we shook kick or ran on the grass to throw up food. I also liked to put a cassette of Ace of Base and start to dance like crazy in my living room. That feeling of doing something stupid up a sweat and then run for a glass of water to the kitchen and drink it in thirty seconds is something really strange. Still time to time I get to dance like stupid, until you really sweat, but not the same: I get to hit someone friendly, kick objects and jumping up on the street as if I had taken an ecstasy tablet. I recently saw
Little Ashes for the sole reason for leaving Rob Pattinson, who despite being the most handsome man the world is the worst actor in the world, and there is a scene where he makes-that Salvador Dali, for incomprehensible reasons, is set to hit some branches on the beach with the dude that makes Federico García Lorca. Both are very deranged, pushing and falling on the floor and then rising and throwing things and bumping into the waves. I liked both those stocks that do not know how to define ... Dumb "perhaps? "Walk of hyperactive aimlessly? "Jotear? Whatever.
I have wanted to enter a house and destroy everything. I know better than to yell at people and stuff.

5. Although it was about eight days ago when I went to the fair of wine and cheese Tequisquiapan. No I know why it went so fast the bottles of sparkling wine, or the joke that the "Chilean wine ... ... ... Merlot Maipo " (the bad inside jokes is that when you wants to outsource and not work the same), but the fact is that I woke up with second-degree burns, bruises on the legs and a vague feeling of having been lying on the grass while listening to some guys sing some songs from a hate group.

6. I get lost in those eyes:

Listening: Yeasayer: ONE

Should I Send My Ex A Christmas Card?

One of my favorite stories is Shipping, Juan García Ponce. I read a few years ago, when I was in college, and from the beginning I liked it, but I could not understand but months later, when I hit one way, say, horrible. Then I read it again, by accident, one evening before going to the cafe where he worked. That day I wrote this piece to reflect that recovery:

realized then that what really bothered me was not fatal outcome, but the impermanence of time together. How it all came down to an unfinished story. How could go ahead without suffering tragedy: the scars heal, overcome injuries and find relief. Knowing that in a few months, in a few years, and would not remember anything of what happened. Do not cry for the memories, they were few and of no great importance.

important thing is that the prediction was fulfilled, and four months later and I had forgotten the subject, who also had mastitis and sang out of tune. However, the impression Shipping left me forever.

There's something very nice to know people you do not make final, and yet his memory remains. I like love stories very big, but I prefer small: relations to end at some point, almost trivial, it nevertheless kept something, an essence, a plea. They return from time to time and make you think of the pointless details that are joining to form a story in which you exist with another person during a certain time.

recently I also thought this need to give meaning to everything. We go through life having sex, falling in love and out of love of people, then forget it and move on. But sometimes, or at least there are people who do work, you just can not: we get some of this accumulation of situations and put an adjective, or a symbol something that prevents it from becoming dry and stop mean. We have to turn it into something else, something literary if you want to finally let go.

"Sometimes you wake up thinking," begins Juan Garcia Ponce, and how powerful his words lies in the character of something before I no longer struggle, something that has already been let go. No counter-memory, or live through it, accept it exists. I seduced much thought it was a more or less true story, which was narrated García Ponce himself, above all, memories of a young woman who probably never loved. Not so heartbreaking and life at least, but that languor with accepting things everyday. The story, seen from a certain angle, it is shameless, a young writer becomes entangled with an older woman, rich, now in his third marriage. The secret and the charm of their relationship is to remember many years later, for any reason, when awake.

I like it because it also summarizes several things that I think, for phrases like "no one is entirely clear from his past" and "one likes people right away or do not like ever." In short, I like it because it is a flawed story and very honest, because the protagonist, unlike most of the fiction of Garcia Ponce, where women are rather evocations idealized what he meant by perfection, is very real, is real .

never found the internets version of the story, because I always wanted to show it to some people, so I decided to transcribe the whole. It was really beautiful revive while super-powerful drumming fast in my Wenceslao and laughed and touched me with the phrases of my John.

So as a "gift" for more sensitive readers (éjele) Noon Island, and if they have aroused curiosity, here is the full version of Shipping:

Shipping , by Juan García Ponce

* Since my texts are serious may catch up with some seriousness. I will upload others soon.