E 'since I read the newspaper this morning that I feel a sense of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. It 's a mixture of disgust, helplessness and fear. It will conduct an ostrich, but I'm trying not to think about.
Last night we were up by lighting a benefit of the greatest mysteries of our (empty) lives:
After months of wondering why our Pilates teacher seemed to have a broom stuck in the ass (metaphorically speaking, of course), you've given us an explanation (No, we asked: "Why do you seem to have a broom in the ass?").
As far as we explained, the unconscious, the one bad thing that makes you wake up screaming things like 'no, it is true that D'Alema awakened my sexual desire,' and 'I did not at all pressed firmly on the pollicione succulents affixed ! ', we said, the unconscious does not distinguish between true and false. In the sense that if you are talking about, say something like 'oh, how stupid I was to play the lotto number 99', the unconscious I take seriously and convince you to be stupid. Now, I am puzzled: I always thought the reason run backwards. If deep down you think you worthless, it is more likely that you are disparaging phrases out of yourself, even in a friendly and innocent, almost wanted to warn others that do not rely too much on you, you're not ready for their expectations. On the other hand, I also believe that we can not live without a bit 'of irony, indeed, that is a symptom of intelligence (personally I am not at all attracted to people who can not laugh at themselves). In short, I could never act as our teacher who can not take it seriously and get a good laugh over their limits, because, come on baby, you have too, and at the same time I realize I have a great respect in me ... may depend on a couple of sentences rash? From a few bars of sipirito?
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