wild
Warning: This writing for unknown reasons had not been censored, however we take the trouble to prevent sensitive souls and respectful of the moral order established as a quasi-orthodoxy religious things not to think much less write, please go their way. Life is too short and sad not to sink into some kind of liberating sarcasm that keeps narrow class consciousness in a corset as an iron hand in a velvet glove.
Sunday a gray day without interest.
On this day of preaching Sunday for some the first day of the week for others and a day like any other for aficionados of the 35 hours that force to smooth the short working time they have left, start their nap on Monday, to finish it on Friday to 16h, history not too late to return the soup, in this day and therefore in that day, a year totally uninteresting to the subject which I would like that one case, an AR sat on my dresser.
same morning in a spasm, I stupidly tried to do sports in an incredible place where a horde of post postmenopausal retired the last hour and a few frames less cluttered room cardio their rails and their foul odors of sports decomposition.
although I spotted some males, roughly in the same condition, which showed their legs and their muscles atrophied as a trophy unexpected longevity which I would have spent that day.
I have waited half an hour one of them slap, but no bowl this morning there were none left to take the weapon on the rower who was interested.
No one wanted to release this machine to make you believe you are doing cross-country skiing and even after hours, I've never understood how it worked, that bitch machine.
No humans here this morning, had not bugger off to the showers to clear a minimum living space to be in a less advanced télorisation cell, which remains relative and debatable, I agree. So
I took my bike (yes, they are those who have yet), with the idea of going back to the guardhouse on the dresser, where then trailed the AR fucking.
AR: letter with acknowledgment of receipt.
Admit it starts nice adventure with such a title.
outset you are accused of having received something, this type of letter is an indictment from a distance!
There is a bastard somewhere, who knows now that I received his slobbery ... That what I got from somewhere else? His torch
ass?, His pamphlet with two bullets?, His diatribe single cell?, His thoughts of the day? ... Damn humans.
In reality most of the time it is not.
An AR is 99.9% a fuck who you fall on the corner of the mouth.
A Fuck-type Coutelisnesco hubuesque because we are in the country where the impossible is probably the best and the least safe, in short a guarantee of hassle to come.
Think So, softened the bulb you are! : If we did not need to be sure that you get this breed, do we spend wheat to make sure you stick a Saturday morning after a sleepless night, behind a retiree, who nothing else to do that day than to go begging the postman the 38.5 remaining to € go grocery shopping? € 38.5
I write, I could write as € 20.50, let us be clear in this regard, we give a damn about the same as the latest adventures of Paris Hilton, who have no interest only to those who suffer from mental diarrhea that is to say, a fairly advanced state of decomposition that we no longer find that to aficionados of reality TV, which we drink all day long for some chains which shall remain nameless because firstly I do not know them and secondly I'm not one to denounce whatever is either, especially for free.
So you can replace the 38, 5 € for the amount you want, and even to the extreme limit, please spare me your opinion on the subject, and any tendency to comment on the cost of gypsy life and that was like this before and now it's like this ... I do not
deeply care!
Me I'm struggling to sleep at night shots of tranquilizers and I gorge coffee intravenously in the morning until the hour of antidepressants, so if it's for me add to the anxiety, thank you, I have my lot. I
am an imposter who will take a good day ... but until then, I run my fingers on this keyboard to urge the hatred that fuels my anger like the river of my ordinary cowardice which it must be that I get rid, so why not you?
Well, you have distracted our problem of the day .... Once more I go back and read the Star Ac or kill myself slow and syrupy sweet sips of concentrated silliness tame that distils some quizmaster decadent spectacle heartbreaking than watching any guide in bread and wine awaiting certain death which will come before you go pee on my grave. Returning
our sheep ...
Because the real problem of the AR, besides the fact that as long as you have not recovered is that you are speculating.
Ca to speculate, here we go!
But who could write well?
I have paid my bills, my URSSAF, my dentist who takes the inside of my mouth for a recreation room, my lawyer Gribiche sauce, my pension to my ex-wife she drinks with her new husband, my banker who normally uses direct into my account, my works contractor never really finished, but !!!!!! God's Brothel
(Pardon my familiarity, but I knew well his son).
And you spend a week like that.
Because the AR, it does not happen this weekend. ..
No, he arrived at the RA first story to make you think about all the crap you've done or will do.
So for a week, you've eaten glands trying to find out who was behind the plot.
You even called around you:
"- Hello, dear friend say, is not you who threw an AR for the case of delimitation of land? I remember
we had a few words ... but I wanted to make sure I did not totally when I told you that your wife had a whale came ashore on your lawn one day ill wind.
- Ah do not you? good so we can continue the war, big asshole!, species Pithecanthropus!, Deputy missing link! .
And I hang up because I'm not going to make tarter by gus who did not even have the courage to send me an AR. For good
declaration of war must begin with an AR. Indeed
be warned!
"Dear Sir, dear Madam,
That was before
like this, you thought like that, we disagree, we do not see how it can improve given the advanced state of decomposition of your thinking-and therefore, we must say ... it's war!
I will go and swaying, we do know that John Wayne, you denounce the police, taxes and my wife
The whole form of a letter anonymously because the side "OK Corral" mostly through the leak in my case. Good
there is clear! We know where we are going.
But there in my case, I know me and it's been five days since the rectangle of paper to the yellowish color is central to my thoughts.
Besides I want to manure postman.
I know he did not stop to warn me of this Royal Decree, otherwise I will have been away.
But no! He too was scared.
He breaks quickly behind his desk for you to come get it 20 cm behind bullet-proof glass.
There was too much damage in the past ... People who, at the opening of their RA, there were no longer required. They
ran after the postman, sometimes they have caught up and even bitten.
all under the eye Hilarious their dogs, who had taken moult feet ass for having barked the officer told the Post.
Life is so made, is the man who catches the beast and rarely otherwise.
I leave you to ponder this over my two player awards! Uneducated moron that just stuck with two pages without understanding the human misery!
short in the morning, God does not appear to me, like a certain song that restores morale for at least ten minutes.
Not me, that my woman who appeared to me, and soon the shower told me what he had to do this, how to store it ... What if people really did what they should do and for what we paid them well and then there would be fewer piles of stuff that works better in a world really better.
short, I told myself, in petto, this is a shitty day that begins like clockwork.
I was very very far off.
Because I was experimenting with the paradoxes of the post.
There was a time once, where the Post Office handled mail, that is to say the Post.
This time, bloated incompetence gerbatoire player, is well done! Today
Post is the service, and even better service!
And it's true! When you first come in the mail, there's plenty of stuff to watch, buy, invest, this is a mini supermarket of financial services for flat stock.
is very nice, but what interests me in the first post is the aspect of mail.
And then I realize I made a huge blunder.
Unlike the rural exodus and the masses who come daily to offer their strength and skill to central cities, I have done the opposite.
Me, I offer nothing, especially in skill, and cities make me tired.
The idea of spending a lead in the Obelix of harmony (the one that is so lacking in its counterpart in Luxor), I am little effect.
That is to say that I jogs no joy at the thought of seeing my peers, through the steamy windows of their car, pulling out nose hairs having previously cleared the mouths of their nasal of all deposits that would slow the rise of their finger fourailleur. The thought of
revive the town with me paralyzes you, I'd rather get my own CA to my local Post Office.
I therefore on the location of future crime, and the second paradox, if the Post Office has increased its fees and profits, it has divided the opening time by two and the number of branches using the same number.
So do not miss a step to get anything at the Post Office even a gift.
Because they sell gift certificates in the mail! But if I tell you!
I spent half a day waiting for my last AR, so I know all the products in the mail.
Whose gift vouchers.
Besides I wanted to buy a gift like that to annoy the mailman and provide the first con came.
Project, which given the number of my enemies, not the exercise was to monopolize most of my brain this morning.
Well, I will loose the info, to buy a gift certificate to the Post ... must order it! It is not
choucarde either one!
a time of universal payment card at the age of the Internet, at a time when even my postman a moped, well .... They have implemented the process most historically unlikely.
Before returning to my AR, I am still working this story gift.
And why they do not have in stock? Ah yes, I am idiot! No less, but if there was a burglary!
You see the guy, he does not have the cash, everyone knows since Starsky and Hutch and especially Derrick has done a lot for the culture-policiero tragiquo-Germanic, the tickets are numbered! Then he will take the vouchers. Good
any reason, so I go into this modest shop that none among Most observers are calling the post office.
And there you see, is the third effect Kiss Cool: The Poisson distribution, you know dark casual reader, the terminally retarded, you remember that famous law that allows you to know how People can spend an hour at the counter according to certain parameters, including frequency and number of windows, and lots of other fun stuff that I will not tell.
You had to go to school instead of biking with the daughter of the postman and avoid putting the foot down!
Now you seem smart to read my crap with the calves flaps, and balls as big as golden apples in late September.
Without even knowing what that famous Poisson, while during that time, if that is possible, a new tadpole just been elected King of the Castle of the Star Academy. So dark
uncultivated, as it was 8:30, as it was Saturday, the only day where every employee can get his beloved AR ... Instead there be only two people up there were 5 .
And as retirees, because a retiree, he has life before him, idiot! ... Finally, before meeting me. The
retired he sleeps more, he wants the contact in the morning, and his day, he goes to slow for others.
This week there so it is likely that all assets in my village were not all in RTT and retirees booming, so they decided to do the forcing on the Post Office.
A real Alamo in perspective among the destitute of AR in their anguish at the prospect of unfathomable evil and unfathomable for the content of this crap mail and retirees who have occupied the land since the day before.
Sure they spent the night in! they want their revenge, they want the communication, they want all that I have no intention of giving them nothing and that their view blocked me any prospect of returning in time to see Fernande, who I also tape (like Peter we lack), and I'm already desperate.
Bastard retired I told them! Hoping a battle front where I could get out triumphant, winning good two to three seats on that crowded crumbling before me.
No answer! They had all left their barracks to the sonotone slobs.
They came with other equipment, crutches, patches, spare tires, but no hearing aid!
I could not see myself hitting a retiree without a minimum of insult at first. We are not animals we lower frame ... but needed a trick.
I deflated the tire, therefore, subject to the tax before me, giving his seat to heel quite satisfactory for those who wanted to beat the shit out of hand.
But they did not count on the help of retired them! A former mining engineer, observing the situation, and while the postman, he made the money over 5.30 Euros postage to send to his family in Longwy, had the idea Funky deflate another.
Here I am with a chair for almost two, but that does not advance and the total stop in front of me.
Meanwhile the queue valid only grow back!
They push the bastards! Come on let's get out the maps rosy to us instead, we only just released, that the culprits speak and that Outreau grave!
Let us go before we charged!
short, after seeking an appointment with the counselor heritage (yes, they do it also at the Post Office): 10 minutes after 26.5 Euros retired from his book savings account, savings person (8 minutes), after asking about his family (15 minutes), after saying goodbye and soon the whole room, which was literally jubilant to finally see the first retired from the morning to leave the Post (4 minutes), to the cheers of a village in delirium .... Push to end arms over each of us, he was placed on a bin outside where he would take a few days to escape.
So after this cohort of survivors of a holocaust that I felt very close m'eut stole my time ... finally I arrived at the counter with my passport in his left hand, the RA in another tight right, foaming at the corners of the mouth ... Pare everything.
Tell a rugby player going through trying everything, after so much effort and struggle to finally have my moment of glory, scoring the long awaited trial into the top corner of the Postmaster.
This amiable as any person who waste the time of others, is as healthy as an occupation is fiddling with the toilet brush ... Party now looking for what I anticipated would be a new ball in my body , a new missile in my house, the Chernobyl final of my career.
After ten minutes of a patient search of rare and efficiency, he went back to my face but mouth closed heart, a bit like the silly to the bottom of the class who just realized that to solve the problems casks that we lose the fleet struggles to fuck in, y 'bin is put a cap! Good
so it advances the attendant and he very kindly tells me, that trollop of guts, this cluster of cells in telophase, the officer was left with a tour to see if sometimes I would not returned home.
So since that day, the Post Office from my village is closed forever ...
Nobody ever came out of the ruins of the building after my visit ...
Retirees have found another way to piss off the local population.
They formed two subgroups, one of which blocks the bakery, and one pharmacy.
Back from his tour the postman handed his wallet in his place, full of what he had just been distributed. ... There was ... well my AR which warned me that my credit card waiting for me at the bank .
Dog's life and death to the CA.
