too tired even just to know, to be tired. At the end of yet another day. When the fuck summer comes, by God. But, above all, someone told that guy up there, decide what the weather, which would, at least, spring? And okay, I have to take the car tomorrow. So now I am on the canvas, stop me if I try to offer him a drink. At least then I make the balloon: and they are dicks.
What was I saying? Ah, yes: tired.
little to say, too much to do. A ball game: I look like a ball game. And there is even hope that there is multiball or how the fuck it was called when they were down three balls together, which I did not understand more than a cock and then I ended up all down. And blasphemy never understood what the fuck that shit served of multiball.
will be the spring, no one told you, so I know I do tuttto I, as usual. It will be the spring, I said, I also see why you people are all a bit 'more tired. And 'the insane desire to leave that always takes us to April. E 'the desire to take the brain and download it there, with your watch, close up shop, a cordial greeting and disappear for at least two weeks. With the alarm sound, with the usual pain in the ass who does not call.
It's not a case, you know, right now you start thinking to the test suit for next summer. It 'just that we would be at sea now. I begin to think that the autonomy of the human average is three months. They should make the long four years, more than twelve. Three months of work, beautiful, fresh and productive, and then a holiday. Come on, it's not just bullshit: let's think for a moment, as is the relationship, including Sundays and friends, is yes and no one to ten.
Do as you like, to me, does not seem right a saw.
