Pregnant And Stomach Feels Sore To Touch

Jam with its year-end

So this year, thanks to the cosmos for:
- Shank'a. Because this is fucking.
- Trailer fourth pirates. Because this is fucking.
- Scott Pilgrim. Because this is fucking.
- "Return of the Battleship" because I was looking for it for four years. The rest is garbage
kind of like.
A fault. For Streetlight Manifesto. Because it's fucking and they fucking clips.
And, well, at ***. Because fucking.

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La maison où j'ai grandi.

this gray city above all cities. I love understanding the need to go back and live it all well, with this intensity. Otherwise not be possible. Seeking

homes in all my songs.

Aroah sings 'Come Home' come home, I pray, do not go astray. come home to me ... where's home? where's home? . The Rolling Stones sang
Three Thousand when you're miles away I just never sleep the Same. if I packed my right now Things I Could be home in seven hours. I'm goin 'home, I'm goin' home, I'm goin 'home, I'm goin' home.
Billie Holiday, sensual (impossibly otherwise), spider baby won't you please come home, 'cause your daddy's all alone .
Galaxie 500, almost bawling waitin for your call, when, when will you come home? The Mountain Goats
also sang home again, home again. Ryan Adams does anybody want yells to take me home? .
And of course my dear Polly Jean. Searching desperately, A Place Called Home.

What I like about my house.

I enjoy being with Pachi, and Iriana Enar watching movies, going out, taking things. With anger, dancing, shouting, drinking. Walking. Planning. Simply by feeling them.

I enjoy being able to see Chema, and kiss a lot, and everything else. Reunited with him. That gave me a beautiful book, 'The Trout Fishing in America', caressing the cover, smell the pages. Read his dedication way home in the dark, because it is so dark. I always come back at night and with a huge hole.

Take the car and escape on a Sunday night with hot water Xacobe. Search the contrast of negative air degrees and positive 40 degrees in water. Boil, skin tear to shreds. It strikes 4:00 am, and I do not care. Here time is delayed, I feel safe, no hours or minutes, there is nothing more than the here and now.

Go to Santiago and I no longer bother his gray, the rain, its nothing. We just want to Cibrán and Laura and Alba and Xacobe there. Drinking wine before dinner and stroll the town drunk. Shock, feeling it push us around in bed. The music, touch, music. Laugh so stupid.

All those people who have not seen, and I do not know if you see him, but belong to the city here with me. Upon arrival I spent hours on the phone with Nela. House. House. Always. Business as Usual. As if nothing had happened. Joy told me that when Christmas arrived in Paris, where he was born and lived long, did not recognize, was lost tourist. And people had changed. If my house changed its facade, I would die. I go into stores and people who do not know ask me about Paris. I guess my mother has been missed by the entire neighborhood. I explain that I do not live in Paris. I hate Paris, damn. I hate everything other than this right here and right now.

the sofa, my mother is a red blanket, mini wraps around my legs. Everything hurts and is sweet, it's me and nobody else, time is mine, nobody else has the time. All my life is near, next to the skin, in every corner. I can come and go and escape and come back and sleep and mourn and walk barefoot and sick because it's my home, and be crazy, once again unleashed.

Why must it be so. If I know my site, my site is here.

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This charming.


No one was hurt! ^____^
And here is a similar video with failures do not like, not like an injury

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Ololo again this garbage in my LJ.

New Year's toast from Live1000 vovanchicalt : Let me say that last night I said Yegor - strip back, but it's worth a look. In 2011, the night I want to write about something. So let's raise a glass Abrau Durso because I did not even know all the locations. [Get your toast]

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Rulitos

Title : Rulitos

Made by: Uchiha Deidi F.

Carrido

Couples: No

Warnings: No

Summary: curiosity moved to England to a rare research: - What would happen to pull one curls? -

Thanks: OwO good as always I thank my beta / adviser / bee / Word Alfie (Scatha) xD check my fic.

N / A: OwO neeee it also did in a book and how it looks xD little good, not long in passing OwO xDDDD I like how telling that is based on a true story ¬ ¬ , "" evil chibis.

macaroni Brothers xD well I think that goes without saying who they are right?, = W = if they are following the series XDDD I know, and Arthur tells the twins Italy, although there captioned as the "Macaroni" is heard more xD cure "Macaroni" in order (for details see Chapter 32, World Series) or reading and I leave at the end of OwO fic ...

Disclaimer: The characters are Hideraz Himaruya work.

...

What were those things? America had one, Canada also macaroni tambiény brothers owned one other countries. A long, some short, some funny looking, but did not understand why they had it.

thought only her hair is well accommodated. I thought the curls were just that, a simple stupid fashion that these countries had invented, but that idea changed when he accidentally touched a meeting his younger brother loop Italians.

was tired of his continuing "Vee ~ " and I approached him to silence. I thought the roller to pull you shut up already and I did, I pulled the loop, but when I do not wait ...

- Ahhh ~! -

If brother did not think the issue macaroni was obviously a groan of pleasure.

I was shocked and surprised the rest of us watched.

- Ahh, England I have had an intimate part, "he cried Doitsu! - Began to whimper.

I only let my curls and immediately felt a dirty look, I looked there was Germany surrounded atrásy an intimidating aura. It was then that I ran out of the room with a Ludwig behind me, shouting obscenities in Alemanya with a gun in hand.

Since that day I learned something, those curls were not only a stupid fashion, the pleasure caused them to pull them, but only he had pulled into the Italian and my curiosity was raised. Do others they felt the same? I had to find out.

was then that I began my research, I wanted to know what those curls felt when I pulled it.

brother started with macaroni. I thought he would weep like his clone but was not well, pulled him and he responded with ...

- Chigui ~! -

He was paralyzed for a few moments and then reacted.

- What is it, dammit? -

started yelling at me a lot of things in their language and took a few tomatoes, and I do not know where he threw ; to the face.

...

...

learned that curls caused a pleasure and can paralyze you for a while.

I continued with my research with other countries, Austria and completely flushed by touching the curls understood what it feels like to receive Prussia sartenazos Hungary.

Most reacted the same way, some blushed, others are bothered, there were some who, like Northern Italy, the orgasm to feel like they pulled the curls. And now I only had two.

America and Canada.

I decided that for my physical and psychological well they would be the last in my research. I searched and found the home of French. Alfred had in his hands a baseball bat and hockey stick Matthew. Possibly coming to play those sports, and was clearly on their clothes.

Francis saw me enter surprised to see the state in coming, brought bands in some places, even difficult for me to walk.

- Mon amour ... What happened to you? - I asked.

did not answer and kept my eyes on my goals ... The curls of America and Canada. I walked with difficulty

to them, France was looking at me and had even offered to help but I refused, rather than pride, for fear of their hands, I knew from experience that these were highly trained French hands to touch places í intimate others. I walked

arriving with two blondes who looked at me the same way as Francis.

- Hey, cejotas, what happened? America.

Same as I did with the French, did not respond, instead, I stretched my hands and before they could do something ... pulled their curls.

watched their actions, surprising ...

emo America adopted a personality, a depressive aura surrounded him and embraced his bat, whining to the very Italian style with a touch uke, however Canada, he was surrounded by an aura of dark, murderous, Germany type. Both turned to me.

- Stupid England, "cried Matthew.

- How dare you touch the intimate parts of people? "Whimpered Alfred.

I was surprised it was as if they had changed bodies. "Hey

watched ...- still in shock.

And, without giving me any opportunity, both beat me, each with its respective weapon, Alfred with his bat, still crying and Matthew with his hockey stick, shouting obscenities in English.

Since that day I learned that one curls is just a stupid fashion hair.

... End ...

Endnotes: hahaha XDD masturbate medium hetalia England and not even notice until he gave it a shot = w = has been good I hope you enjoy

OwO

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about how. Do not read Word Art bedtime

No, I can understand that Tamaki and Death Jr. announced a Voiced. But what he is - Yagami? Yagami Light!?
How many wonderful discoveries to us ...

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BEZNOGNM

looked a it will go crazy!

Mom, I want to Pee-ka-chu!

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Come Again, I'm crying!

All the best that I have in life can make me cry.
Also notable in its own way view ...

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I can not feel my hand anymore, it's alright, sleep still.

I like pictures where people sleep. It is the only way to find what is called absolute naturalness. No one taught us to be asleep. We can not pretend we can not be cute (perfect smile, perfect face, perfect hair) when we are dreaming, because we are too far away. Although the picture we reflect on the place. Although we pretend to present.

grace has made me find some pictures of me sleeping, because it's the only way I can never see. Chema has been saying since I have 15 years: "how beautiful when you sleep."
do not know if pretty, but I found that I always make the same gesture with his hands.

A folds on itself, forming a hole. Speaking of an absence, as if lacking something or someone inside it. Other hand, an object.
The other pets. Caressing the grass, or pet bedding or pet hair. Only the tips of the fingers, slowly.
are like a wanting and a re-take.

And Enar, Enar hugs herself. It makes me a little sad that picture because right now I have so I wanted to hug her, and it is as if the two ansiáramos that contact but there is a blue space in the middle, vacuum between us somehow.

And yes. Sleep is sad. In sleep we are forced to separate. There is talk of sleeping together, but it is not true.

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This fucking



Who went to the throne?

By the way, looked at the price of nicotine patches. Decided that they no longer needed.

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Manifesto

I call my friends and all readers to bear witness.
On 12/08/2010 I quit drinking and smoking.
first control point - the New Year. On New Year allow myself a glass of champagne.
motivation is - it's me in my life have already tried.
about the following - dreamed of Thorns.

Viking Global Investors 2009

Les enfants.

hate children.

However, there are some very specific arouse my sympathy. Ana in 'The Spirit of the Beehive. " The lovely Addie's 'Paper Moon'. All children of 'Recreations'.

Anyway, today we went in the morning to see a play, 'Le Songe d'une nuit d'été'.
had a school to the public, and we, grown up and college theater students, the show alive, informed and creative suponiéndosenos.

After the work out of actors (two, two!) Who played absolutely all the paperwork is Shakespearean making a total of 80 costume changes, so did their questions.
The university did not even one, while the children were over 40. Of all kinds.

Until suddenly one question: Are you in love?
They laughed a lot and I said no. I was stunned. You may not innocence, but honesty, sincerity, simplicity so nice and refreshing. It is a matter of intelligence but of curiosity. It's so beautiful curiosity.
I was amused because I wondered the same thing, and I'm not a girl. Both had so much chemistry between them, both with common interests who have worked together for so long day and night: Will they be dating?
If that child and I thought the same thing, why I did that question out loud?
Because I am not free. Because I think of the consequences, ridicule, at the trial. In all these oppressions that have been winning every year.

the refusal Then, another girl raises her hand and asked: Pourquoi ils s'embrassent, alors?

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Patriotism.

I do not know anything about the country.

But on a thing called home. The home is so relative. Is my home, my city, my Galicia, is my country?

When I lived outside the region, but within the peninsula, I was away from home. Far from it. And as the plane or train pierced its edge, I felt happy. In my home, back, finally. And that site is the site that could not fail to miss.

His color (its green, its gray, its immense blue), the air (the particular way in which the moisture out of your mouth when cold), smell (the smell of a bonfire filled with chestnuts, smell a fireplace), people (hot, upcoming). And all the banalities, its prices, its bars, its cuisine.

but I told her I should have said. Because I feel so My everything, and feel (a complicated word) pride. Pride of having been born there, that all that belongs to me, myself and all other Galician.
Pride is something that always seemed very, very stupid, especially when it's so random: it could have been born elsewhere and I guess I have to say would have loved equally to that other place. But deep down (and not tell anyone) I think Galicia is special. That is not insignificant as our my favorite word: homesick. sadness or melancholy, especially the nostalgia of the homeland. However

. Now I am in France and have been here 3 months, without stepping on the word that took 5 paragraphs to avoid, Spain. Hate
Spain. I mean, I hate her name (Spain, so violent that ñ), hate their flag (these colors, I do so much damage to the eyes), all it represents, its image (exterior and interior). In general, as a country, Spain seems pathetic, ridiculous. Not every autonomous community with its quirks and charms, but El Pais. However

. For a small moment, Dec. 15, when you hit that country have always felt so foreign to me and I spent two days in Barcelona waiting for the plane to Galicia, I know that in some remote way, I feel at home . Safe. A salvo of another language, other people, other violence, another way of seeing and understanding things. Safe from the fear that so many times I have felt here, others see me different, a stranger. Distant.

The other day I discussed a lot with Joy about whether he had ideas on feelings. I do not know if there are any ideas on these thoughts scattered and chaotic, and probably (I always reread forbid) contradictory. I know there are feelings because that is today the only language I speak (not French, not the Galician).

But no. My house is small. My home is a mise en abîme . A house, in another house within a house. My house is in the air, suspended. But is concentrated at a point in space, on a street, behind a door. That's you'll want to escape and return, and escape, and again, again and again throughout my life.
My house I built myself.

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Sleeping in black and white.

I know nothing about the night.

I know the fear. I have memories from when I was really (really) a sad person, and when I thought I had overcome one day, and was still alive, then, suddenly, I had the night and had to sleep with her.
I did not want.
other morning I just wanted to try and fail again. They
all those other mornings, and all of them missed.

do not know what's wrong with me at night. I do not know if I leave my body and go elsewhere.
The mystery of it all is that when I wake up, I'm pale person in the world. As a vampire who goes out, and by the hour and the morning races, I catching color.

sleep in black and white, that is. I go back. I am a Stieglitz photograph. I'm a film by Frank Borzage. I'm negative. I'm from wool.

before yesterday morning I woke up so pale that it seemed transparent. I think if I had struggled a bit, have gotten away (and if I disappear, do not look at the wells, mud stains that you dress so nice).

People looked at me strangely and three different people told me I was 'naive'. Candida.
Candida is one of those words that I know without actually knowing its true meaning. So I got home and I looked in the dictionary. Candide: color snow or milk.

And it snowed. Perhaps mimicry. Empathy. Vampirism. I melt the snow. One day disappear from the target.