How Do You Clean Bluetooths

[Posted two days ago on develop ]

It becomes green. One day, Suddenly, in the midst of six hundred thousand people. Verdi. This would be passable if it was just a thrush green, a green body painting, a green body, green mold a perineal and even a Green League.

But it's a shame last green.

What happens is that you will be caught by the wandering Mambassa, old friends who like to pile up where it meets the stink embodied and incarnate, love partying and alcohol to gorge themselves on lavish and despised, until the acid catharsis, lubricious to the denial of etymological status of "drink". They love the rush of crowds, the party upbeat, singer / songwriter from the majority, even that sudanza Strippa between moist, ignorant lard and perverse physical and / or brain of an endless bifolcaggine greasy. Miles and miles to see the end of all humanity willing, the end of any significance if only whispered, petofona the end of each musical concept and not-for-nothing to miss the end of each driver's license left as possible.

Exactly. They come to May Day.
And what do you do, Woland, who are friends, Codd, does not take me?
course.
But come willingly?
Duevoglie. But you concertone
the way you see it, with those who see it, usually?
No.

concertone I go to Labor Day. I look at the guest list. Amazing.

I hate them all.

There's not a slap with a dead zebra and then throw it down from a helicopter attached to a Rottweiler with diarrhea made of angel dust.

Yes, even Capossela. Especially : Capossela.

It subisco many. Many. You have no idea how many suffer before. Che.

Before a chick goes on stage and starts raping a song by someone else, the space-piercing and breaking the resistance even dream of every supporter of the present time until the plain of Chiasso in '43. And not only. Because something wrong. And in the middle -> (a half!) She stops, apologizes that "you hear" (Angelo made my butt hut) and start over.

DA. CHAPTER.

The embarrassment, shame and ridicule come together in a bizarre symphony in Porcoddio Major for Tristofono and Mignatti. And me?

Verde, in fact. Turn green last.

And while I wonder from the depths of an organ of your choice what can be more embarrassing, if you make will remark at a funeral with the penis into the mouth of his dead mother, or be Impacciatore Sabrina, sailed one hundred and nine Long Island Ice Tea and the sea of \u200b\u200bNevermore.