Thursday, September 18, 2008

Differences In Breast Soreness

Take all away but not my bag on Sunday

Today's Corriere insert paper devotes a wonderful accessories. I can not hold more accessories, but I have a fucking subspecies strain - mental, more than professional - to look at all that my brain could digest, assimilate and then repeat one of my employers. So I opened it.
Eight ladies emptied their bags in front of the journalist. and we'll show the contents on a table. What's being photographed. The Beccalossi which has the four things on the cross. And the Boralevi. Riccobono Eva and Victoria Cabello Instead they have a lot 'of little things .. but all sorted, put into boxes and astuccini.
ponder: if they did with me? I'm in my bag?
ipod nano pink flier
an outlet where I was Saturday
statement semi crumpled
3
used Metro tickets 8 tickets

eyeglass case eyeglass
5 and 14 euro cents coin (loose)
cell
envelope containing the phone bill
folding umbrella (even if the sun is crazy)
copy of 24 minutes
moleskine notes
wallets and purses
pen pencil

business card of a guy
a nail file
1 pack handkerchiefs
a sunglasses case in a gloss

an eye cream
a mirror-brush

At least the test I had to empty it.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Why Am I Feeling Irritated By A Close Friend

Trenitalia never disappoints

Last Sunday I and a plastic bag containing white trofie, pesto and a round bun with olive returns from the Mind Festival in Sarzana after being interviewed Carlo Cracco and Allan Bay. And we were pleasantly surprised to discover that, despite the consideration Intercity plus Napoli-Torino was delayed twelve hours (?!), our train La Spezia-Rome (Torino-Napoli microtratta of the cost of 32 euros) was exactly on time. So we spent the next 4 hours reading and listening to music, a little 'smeared with salt and sand, but I honestly enjoy concentrated in the final hours of Sunday. Upon arrival at Termini, the madness, police in riot gear, ambulance, and a flood of people (close inside the cordon formed by the police) with their faces covered.
Marta, who between the two parties concerned would assault the reporter, he thinks that his job is to write at the bottom of maxiyachts, giourmet, Vuitton bags, exhibitions, shoes and 5-star resort. But then he feels in his heart a calling that requires it to update on what's happening. Just to make the figure of the journalist who was there, but if was asleep or thought pickled egg Carlo Cracco.
undecided on how to board a police officer saying he was a reporter in the trenches while dressed in blue cotton dress with white polka dots and red flip flops, gym bag and shoulder bag with trofie, finally meeting a real Paola assault journalist who tells me what the fuck is going on: the fans, the train split, the beatings, the injured, an ambulance. I understand, I greet and I'm going home to cook with pesto trofie that after all I'm traveling, if they have earned. The invective against the Neapolitan peasants last time two forks, thanks to my roommate, being of Salerno, nods, approves and eat.
But today (or yesterday for breakfast because I peeled back the paper yesterday so I could confuse me) I realize that Neapolitan fans who smashed an entire train (how hard animal honestly can not understand ..) forcing the passengers to down and creating a mess all day forced the poor suckers to use the services Trenitalia (already bad without the use of de hooligans' Noantri version of Attila-the scourge of God) said to be quiet because they pay damages. But above all they have asked people not to criminalize.
Poor things! And how could we ever do?
The interesting thing now is how are they going to pay 500 thousand euro. Colletta? Miracle of San Gennaro? Surcharge on the ticket of the stadium? Surcharge on train travel for life? Or, alternatively chilling but ultimately highly likely, increase my train ticket for life?