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INDIAN WELLS 2011 - Eighth MEN, the predictions of the oracle

We see a little, what you can get out of the second round of this tournament so far full of great surprises, eliminating some pseudo-Italian as excellent and prediction (who has preserved half diopter dall'infestante disease dell'insipienza) out from the beginning: ready, go out!

Davverman Nadal-1. The world number one came back after the way of the cross which had accompanied Ferrer in the semifinals in Melbourne. The board had given him as a meal of ostrich feather mattresses on which to recline. Something (anything but) should offer more Somdev Davverman, number one in the Indian growth (already an ATP final in 2011), capable to scare Serbia in Davis and at Indian Wells to appear in a sprint on Xavier Malisse, eternal and sick talent burned in honor of some god damned infernal patron of idleness. Beyond the deceptive appearance of Ronaldinho Gaucho, difficult to perform circus Somdev numbers useless seal tamed, but it will be expected to spread relentlessly in Iberian dall'arrotante tank. I say and preach that if you have an Indian managed to pass the seven games won, it would be a triumph.
Montanes-Karlovic 2. Hands up who would have predicted this match (except those who thought to Bolelli and Seppi top ten in 2010). The two take the place of Almagro and Ferrer. The first squeezed out into the marshes terricolous less triumphant touring South America. The second, on the fast, when not at the top of the horrid conditions, can easily be missed by Karlovic. Much will depend on its service, but the elderly Croatian giant (seen in the decline in the first tournament of the year), has a great chance to get back in the quarterfinals of a Masters in 1000 and re-launch into the unknown. The other, Montanes, has already been good to win three matches and should (for conditional obligation) to tag along. A demonstration that a thirty terraiolo in the DNA, if level, convinced and professional, can improve and do well on the fast. Example for those who expect miracles from Our terraioli very clear that they do their mission ancestral parish earn points in tournaments, earn participation in the 1000 Masters, pocketing the check, and without any restraint, playing in such venues as if they were to gather wild onions on the concrete.
Querrey Robredo-1X2 (tending to 1). Succulent eighth, to be enjoyed from the first 15. Armed with xamamina. Yet the two have not stolen anything. The American physicist "hang hangers" and the expression of the typical serial killer who resigned surrender to the authorities, has ridiculed Fernando Verdasco. Test unreliable because good right now, Nando would also miss his colleague Emilio Fede night club (if only the octogenarian "journalist" dress up in tennis). Tommy Robredo, and lacerating tremendissimo like few others, is English, however, a different temper. Example of professionalism, he had played four tournaments on the South American red (with some good results), it is now here, in the second round of 1000 Masters on the fast after resizing the eternal promise Donald Young (the Talentino Moretto, inevitably, has not stood the test of nine, after having ousted by none other than Murray version ghost cheese). Tommy will not have the crackling of Nando arm, but does not give anyone anything. Fabio Fognini knows. And who knows what to think now our beloved "McSafin" that in these hours is rather busy in the first round of the fundamental challenger Le Gosier (do not even find 32 players to make a board canon), against the Swiss Bohli. Probably lost in three sets and amiably vezzeggerà opponent "homme de merde" (being talented, always insulting and only in the mother tongue of whoever happens at gunpoint).
Kohlschreiber Del Potro-1. This is undoubtedly the eighth most fascinating. The bomber Tandil has now confirmed to be on track to return even at high levels, after the good omens left in the U.S. earlier triptych. Ljubicic won in recovery with the aspirations and crashed dell'atipico rattlesnake slippery Dolgopolov. Match beautiful with cheerful-arm sling stones coming out of Ukraine and Argentina's relentless gunfire. Giovanni Martino, reloaded the arm of Fire, Part favored with Philipp Kohlschreiber. The German has found the perfect melody symphony to beat Soderling, also because of a Swedish ice melted as the sun. With that reverse lapping absent expression of anxiety, it has a duty, if not repeat itself, contribute to the beauty of the match.
Roddick-Gasquet 1X2 (but also 2, dancing to rarefied clouds of marzipan). Interesting too. The experienced American and tracked the swan deliciously lame. The power and strength of the Yankees and the fragility of mind combined with a melody that is inspired by tennis god opium drugged, tortured by the French from the meninges. Roddick has virtually nothing risked, and was dominating the Blake and Isner. Richard has charmed and frustrated instead, with delicious shots, the ambitions of a Melzer that when you start making mistakes, continues to throw it all away with indignant fury unbearable. Rationality would like an obvious victory for the U.S.. The poem can not end in itself indicate that the Bard's magical suicide sports Gasquet. Free bet, depending on your personality. Put to the limit "Gasquet won the first set and lost the match" (7.50), and you do not go very far from making.
Djokovic-1 Troicki. Once again we propinano horror of this derby between the two that seem the result of the same loins. The draws of tournaments seem to enjoy tormenting me with this hammering in the matches. Among the "original" and copy all the more unbearable, the first usually prevails. Between the Prophet and the dolphin, the same. Among the "Igor" of "Frankenstein Jr" and "the eye of the mother" immortal "Battleship Potemkin", ditto. Without a strong preference for someone to make a choice and be bound by, say, between the gibbering rants and ruminations of Bossi intellectuals of the "Trout".
Wawrinka-Berdych 1X2. Typical coupling the difficult odds. The Swiss child has been for months now at the top 10. The Czech is in the numbers, but good alternative to obscene performance falls. Here is gone smoothly, but without any significant obstacles. Stanislas also exceeded miraculous comeback in the old hospice Davydenko (recovering from 3-6 3-5) and has been shown to present a different level than Cilic. I feel only to say that will end the third set, you decide for whom (to take the disagreeable sympathy Switzerland. Irrationally fallacious logic, Czech).
Federer-Harrison 1. Expected the eighth most interesting of the lot, between Federer and the new sensation of ATP Milos Raonic. The bomber was Canadian but was scaled down from the doomed American teenager Ryan Harrison. Federer ingiudicabile until now because Chela is not much text, especially on fast. Only a fool hen squawking as cowardly can be captured by crisis fibrillation and coronary suicide against Argentina at Indian Wells. Dominate, to serve for the match and then losing the third (who is this big fool? Take a survey and you'll easily). Harrison will play well, maybe picking up a decent score, but hardly bisser the company. The famous litmus test "Tommasiana.

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INDIAN WELLS 2011 - Eighth FEMALE, the implacable PREDICTIONS AND EXPERT

Jankovic-Ivanovic 1. Derby Serbian mouth-watering. Dying to burst starvation stinging frustrated. Or do not see it. If you were to just follow a few excruciating exchange, give meaning to those minutes with the only pseudo-fun activities: Look like a silent film or the evidence, in their tragicomic exploits a semblance of brain Tennis least as big as a nano Cecil Nebraska and running for a fourth. The beautiful (what a nightmare after eating two kilograms of fried green peppers and be killed twice) Jelena, after months spent bucking like a stiff in Varenne, seems fair physical shape and able to devise the only tennis on its scope: trotting race broken, cracked and recoveries. If you do not exceed, wins. If pride spurred by rising stars trembling comparison (in the imagination of sick minds), and begins to want to pull that winning does not have turn into foul regularity, "the tragically match back in the balance. The
serbiattona Ana it is increasingly unknown to herself. At Indian Wells so far seems to have understood (by mistake, of course) where the rectangle bordered clear his demented. If everything goes (always in error, either) wins, otherwise he loses. In this way he also won a Grand Slam (for astral conjunctions occurring every two thousand three hundred years, it seems obvious). Inconsolable widow of affectation imposts fists and savage "ajde" disconnected from reality, more and more rare to embellish the mysterious beauty, we could still enjoy his new tactic of boarding: the two-stroke gasps that accompany the shots ("aaaaah-mapped "or something similar). Ben will be displayed at a languid descent network Jelena, in agonizing setback. God Almighty. Azarenka, Radwanska
1X2. But given the odds, I would be tempted to take the snip and regular polish to 2.25. Maybe the third (4.00). Have you ever seen. That sort of "Linda Blair" overly caricatured version of tennis, can give mad at any moment and give a crash ambulance to the two brave, hardworking and always ready on the sideline, his shirt containment of order. In tennis against one of the most slaughtered Paleozoic era to the present day, Vika has already cut off his sister Radwanska more excessive (and with more potential dead), Urszula.
Bartoli Clijsters-2. Belgian Mum was a shadow of herself bored in the three games that have seen m'è against our guerrilla screaming Sara Errani. Errors in clusters and even a set transferred to Bologna in a match that scored the winning shot of the entire third season (The last had placed well 7). If Kim finds the record and a bit 'of desire, should have no problem adjusting to the cheerful boor Quadrumana incarognito Bartoli, whose tennis seems ever more tragically incomprehensible to scientists at NASA. In addition to its opposition to any natural law on primates.
Schiavone-Peer 1. Ambe. Here we are dancing in the national-patriotic feelings, which I am bound EBBR like ivy. The Milanese, in addition to the contagious sympathy and esondante femininity that rivals Pappalardo which mates with a wild marsupial, has exhibited a good fit, leaving the crumbs to the opponent's cross. The isreliana Peer, as well as ugly, is still opposing strong, constant and taken lightly. Not by chance that the bookmakers give the two perfectly equal (1.83). If the vocal cords to govern Italy's huge barking and succeeds in intortarla with the proverbial changes, should win. Another thing is for your ears and that dormant taste floating in the air. Or turn down the volume and just look at the racquet, or enjoy a classical ballet.
Wickmayer Cibulkova-1. Match unexpected. Dominika Cibulkova ousted because he pulled in three September Zvonareva pulled. How he succeeded peperino Slovak, with his abnormally large head to make it look like one of the statues of Easter Island and the short legs like pudgy sausages in Emilia, is a mystery. Trying to guess: he closed his eyes, drawn increasingly strong and expected that Vera gave hysterical outbursts in pre larmante. Here, according to the rule Tommasi (infallible), it should fail the litmus test against "Giovannoni Coscialunga" Wickmayer. In a fit of dementia, I imbalance on the 2-0 (3.00) of the Belgian rude. Also that its pruning remain swollen in the field. We know that women's tennis is subject to such sophisticated technical and tactical variables.
Wozniacki Kleybanova-1. The world's number one party clearly favored. Gambling also 2-0 (1.44). Despite the lace and put a tennis apathy that is mad. The bush Caroline he tore, without pity, the spectrum of Maria Jose Martinez Sanchez. Ok, it was on cement and not on earth, where spells are sublimated rabdomantesche Iberia. To beat this inhumanly regular tennis and implacable as an ecumenical boring episode of "Porta a Porta" incensante power, it was necessary to provide a direct (as in Roman times that week) by the gods burlesque. Or a Maria Jose in decent shape sfarfalleggiante. Alison Kleybanova now faces, rolling Russian ippopotamessa no half measures. A quintal of tasty blind violence that has struck in the last round as a tank on vintage Flavia Pennetta (but it is known, the Brindisi subjected to March a physiological decline. Then he resumed in April. Cala a little May-June and July with April-I have 31 -, and returns in fine form in August / September. He told me that a clinical eye for these 'technical sophistry). The Spartan project is Alisa breaking balls and cause cracks in the concrete. And the final blow to crush the defenses of Caroline, we would too. The problems are two: The water heater must get them winning, the other one and just move a few inches you will remain there, imbesuita and impotent as a painting by Botero commented on the cylinder. Peng-Petrova
2. What good comparison. I did not lose even if at the same time there was a projection of my death, while I throw myself on the seventh floor of gull in flight. Frantically waving his arms. Russia's unspeakable, unbearable shaken the Chinese ant. According to my empirical calculations, the Asian prevail. Do not you dare ask me why. I could really throw a flight of quail on the spot, singing a song about drugs Povia. "What drugs are bad-bad. Bad is the drug. Drink lots of milk.. " This is a monologue I have committed intellectual-Dj Aniceto (Government advisor, Ministry of health, so to speak.).
Safina-Sharapova 2. Another "thing" disturbing, so shudder at the very thought disgraceful. The prehistoric mammoths Dinara is back levels of decency tennis (thanks to newfound health and the technical alliance with Davide Sanguinetti). He could easily do without. Masha instead of two continuous years on the wire quell'agghiacciante pencolante tennis futility. Competitive level of the top 20, never as in the (sad) years when he won the slam, but with the same arrogance unsustainable and unbalanced pregnant woman screams. Should win the Siberian screaming. But it is the same.
Played a 6 to 8. And something you win. Maybe.

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DOKIC Petzschner, A QUIET WEEKEND OF DELIRIUM

The sudden leg Jelena . It will not be certain Wimbledon, where a sixteen year old and still Jelena Serbs, came in the semifinals. Kuala Lumpur but will eventually be worth hundreds, championships. Many years and pounds later, but freed from the stifling hood of horror represented the deranged father, Here comes again the new Jelena Dokic . Almost unexpectedly, at similar levels. A tournament conducted on the edge and won fighting like a tiger in Malaysia, since the debut match. On the brink of defeat to Francesca Schiavone, the Italian before casting off screaming for an alleged injury. And then a fifteen from defeat with pocket doll Osaka Nara Karum in I'm already crazy (Karum is this here with flickering flames of emotion contrite in almond-shaped eyes, like a cartoon. Look at all the photos, including those in which his little soar 142 cm between the male doll Wozniacki and Schiavone, and try not to fall in love.).
Jelena is another tennis player than the triumphant and sad beginnings. Not only for those evil rivulets of fat and chubby legs that sometimes make it look like the cruelly beautiful sister Kaia Kanepi or a lost and groping Bufalotta pretty wild in the fields. For obvious reasons, less mobile, but more powerful in the past. And the soul that serenity of those who make up the top hundred in the back door which has tennis, rowing in the smaller tournaments. The main one that you had already uprooted as a teenager. Sometimes a back door could give more satisfaction. Yesterday, in the final, the last of the now small masterpiece in Australia, against left-handed "Berdych in a skirt," Lucie Safarova . A desperate comeback 2-6 3-5, drawn to the sound of rain with eyes closed. I watch some stage in the tie-break, and canceled three more match points with courage and class, before closing 11-9. The impression that such events are the most beautiful things in this sport, it settles authoritative, unique and final. Together with sullen eyes and the expression of Karum Nara, of course. Suffice it already, but in the chaos of break and counter-break, voltage and phase control fumigant, Jelena Dokic is not satisfied. Continues to struggle with her nails, even trying to win. The symbol of his rebirth is all the rage paw backhand that leads to the match point. A razor lungolinea accompanied by the URL liberating. Just before lifting the arms to the sky, making them fall behind his head shyly.

"Picasso" Petzschner heroic leader of the joyful "Wunderbar." what comes up in Croatia, ready to face the national Slavic led by Marin Cilic was a real "dream team". A squadron from the surreally cheerful tennis end in itself. A group of acrobats egagri of sparkling talent Medrano circus trapeze artists. Germany's tennis, sauerkraut and champagne. To say. The nation of the 'Inspector Derrick. " Want to put the italic "Commissario Montalbano"?. The same Germans who had 82 Hrubesch and Briegel, and we rely on the imagination and Tardelli brasileira Bruno Conti. The cold steel of Germany that went from the foot of Mathaeus, while elsewhere the "ten" was honored by Roberto Baggio. Tennis fans can now enjoy of vigorous mental erections watching a classic backhand saber of "Kohli, a brushstroke stilnovisti of" Picasso, "a coy reel Florian Mayer. From these latitudes touching scenes of rejoicing for the demented or emaciated Fognini exhibitions of tennis "wii" lame against ghosts, a Seppi. Start the show
Philipp Kohlschreiber , discovered accidentally Indomitable Lions. A chinchilla, transformed for a day in the bloody cat. With that face, her eyes lost in the void and Crestino. But a backhand from disorder. Wins in five sets, fighting door to door with the frantic Ivan Dodig . "Kohli" door equality in the comparison after Florian Mayer , despite the amazing geometric evolutions, had surrendered in five sets to most power Marin Cilic. Rooms on the second day in a chair the real hero, Philipp "Picasso" Petzschner . An electrified tightrope. Almost spring-loaded. In four years, so inspired and decided it had seen only two or three times. Was cramming in a beautiful "macaorni. The other, caught two daffodils imaginary ocean. Zompa and brush as a satropo. He runs everything wrong and square chips straight hours now persuasive soft touches. A festival of violence fluid and dead leaves. The devil is also time to respond to air missiles Ivo Karlovic , showing reflections possessed. Along with the historical companion Christopher Kas, Germany leads to the point of the double at the end of another battle in the fifth set, opening up unexpected glimpses of the Germans. After the defeat of
Kohli with Cilic, Captain Patrick Khunen, doppista already good at the time of Boris Becker, the brilliant lightning. A flicker of sick and enlightening visionary foresight. And crowds. Who better than the good Picasso, whom to entrust the outcome of the whole comparison in the deciding match? And here, the painter who does not betray the expectations. Other performance magnificent curb leveling mortars the "Franckenstein" Croatian Ivo Karlovic (decreasing, but still at 251 km / h). Next two sets and a break in the third, Picasso found a way to make us understand that it's always him, returning the break ahead after a game of bar full of nasty horror to the world. The stigmata of lightning, in fact. The character must want him defeated in the fifth. But it would be too. It was his weekend, anyway. The modern hero to his senses in time ended the third set to the tie-brek. Jubilant and carried in triumph by the whole team.

"Love and Death" in a sauce of Argentina, signed David Nalbandian . Talk about Davis, and can not jump out David Nalbandian. In a weekend of times, with emotions from the epic that, like it or not, only Davis can give (I have written this sentence taken as a grunt and Galeazzi sixty-six kg), the fat rises Argentine showing once again the and attachment to his patriotic heroism camiseta albiceleste. A union of love and near-fatal visceral. Bang the Romanian Ungur, despite a knee to pieces. Tearing ligaments, unable to hold back tears of pain, but grits his teeth and wins. Because, as he says, "when you play with that shirt, you do not hear anything ...." L ' Argentina ends up dominating the modest compared with the Romanians. Maybe he would have won even deploying the current Guillermo Vilas, Jose Luis Clerc and even Jose Acasuso. And meanwhile, crippled, David waiver of Miami and Indian Wells. But that's another story. The usual. Skip
also Serbia defending champion, no Djokovic. The comparison is on the usual amnesia Janko Tipsarevic , as usual suffocated Sophocles, Proust, and a straight fence in honor of the gods of Olympus. Zimonjic (illegitimate son of La Russa) and Bozoljac double, to put things right. The reliable spirited Troicki , concludes the work. But if the Indians had been able to count on the Methuselah Paes / Buphati (currently to treat arthritis in a nursing home spa), the Serbs for the weekend could turn into a nightmare. The
Spain walk in Charleroi, Belgium on the poor remains. Rafael Nadal takes the opportunity to test the leg in view of the U.S. Masters. As Ruben Bemelmans can be considered valid the test must be more than one machine sparapalline jam. The Belgian modesty can bring success to weigh Fernando Verdasco for months at a fork in trouble even nell'arrotolare a plate of spaghetti with clams. Evidently less formidable than a plate of spaghetti and clams, Malisse conditions in which patched indolent trotted on the court during the match debut. The U.S. come free from the pit of Santiago, Chile It takes all the experience of Andy Roddick to avoid serious trouble at the national stars and stripes, after the giant John Isner was sunk in ' clay after five hours and five sets battle against Capdeville. The Sweden's Robin Soderling have easily Russia's Nikolay Davydenko and Youzhny orphan. Nothing can be the declining Igor Andreev , least Teymuraz Gabashvili . More than crazy horse, nag increasingly unbalanced miraculously escaped the barbarity of the slaughterhouse. Loses even revived by Joachim Johansson , thawed by the Swedes for the occasion and in the last three years has played three games (ping pong).
suffer but in the end also check France indoor Vienna on earth, against an Austria dragged from rip intermittent Jurgen Melzer and around him the dark. The Austrians had even dug up the now unpresentable Stefan Koubek . The main protagonist for the cockerels Bleus is Jeremy Chardy, a young colt bred by the crystalline class. One that when you do not snooze or is suffering from numbness and mystical crisis, it has nothing to envy to three or four top 10. Quote
obviously in conclusion, the Kazakh national, thanks to its arrembanti mercenaries paid as nabobs, stormed the fort ruins Czech Ostrava. When you say the "spirit of Davis' patriotic and soul. The Federation of Kazakhstan has bought two or three of them covered with money, and they fought like angry beasts. Negative protagonist of the weekend, Thomas Berdych in horrific shape. It enhances rather Andrei Golubev, Russian Bra and excellent "buy" Kazakh, who won the last game he had six months ago with Toni Zugarelli (a tambourine). Complete the work the ravine Kukushkin . Unwatchable as few as none and sustainable. Tennis excessively modest and frantic attitude. Rejoice every point as Pippo Inzaghi in the second goal in the final in Athens, with the same face of tragic Angelo Orlando (Inter squadron wing unforgettable epic Hodgson). Awesome. Simply awesome. But after the defeat to Berdych, still unable to give the decisive point in its national Botolo beating back the pleasant, Hajek.

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New friends, new laughs. Retrieved

The Laughter Club Of Christopher (laughing in the library) is increasingly popular. Each meeting is a "first meeting" for some, a regular appointment with the good humor and friendship to the most loyal. The family of laughter, in short, is growing :-)

NEXT Saturday, March 12, We meet at 18:30 INSTEAD 'at the usual time of early afternoon. Anyone who wants to 'MAY' BRING 'A LITTLE SIGN OF CARNIVAL IN ORDER TO INCREASE THE DESIRE TO LAUGH TOGETHER. COME!

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ONCE WAS MY WORLD ...


Theatre! The machine is eternal, the human invention,
the dream of dreams ... the great illusion.
A fantastic world marked by a fifth
illusory sky painted with stars.
wear a costume with devout respect
and excited heart will burst in my chest!
Now the clamor in the audience acquiesce,
opens the curtain and you're the 'MAN!
You can dress from Danish prince, wrapped with
boa, singing in French, you can do
Romeo and climb a fence or blink
Cyrano's sword in a duel. For
Mirandolina with lace, or you are the Harlequin
which tripped
pierce the chest pain of love ...
and all say "he who is an actor!".
Oedipus the tyrant suffer the pains, spitting
flowers of evil as well, with six characters try
Pirandello,
strangle Desdemona with Othello's wrath,
walk the wig ... mimic Molière,
top of the stairs and dance like Astaire
dripping sweat
give the public and everyone will say ... "He who is an actor!".
front of the mirror part skim or sudden
a commedia dell'arte clown makeup
you mimi drama
your smile all the baby ... ... my mother ...
sitting in the audience with
ice cream cone and you're pulling a little faces' breath.
The story is over! And the big surprise !!!...
explodes the applause and cries ... the actor.

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session of Laughter Yoga, you aired on Sky TV. NEXT MEETING

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The next meeting, Saturday, March 5, 2011, is provided from 14.30 to 15.30 or so. From 15.30 am available for questions, information and requests. I wait.

Loretta

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UNDER THREE NOVAK DJOKOVIC Sailing in

Among the glitz and tacky futuristic buildings, the new city of sport and petro-dollars, the final most anticipated and obvious, the absence of Nadal, has resulted in little more one hour of tennis in its terrifying ugliness. To the point where someone turns up immediately -Wozniacki Zvonareva , enjoying (if not tennis) of the courageous Russian loser. Vera from swollen eyes the color of a sky battle with the clouds breaking up the defensive wall of the sleeve from the Nordic a number that seems to exit out of the advertisement of the mill white version of that Scandinavian and wins in Doha.
Some other crazy, watching the atrocious deeds of articulated robot sparapalle Serbian sull'inerme Swiss in a day when even stick in the imagination, goes so far as to strive for a rapid return of the devil of Manacor. If the now tragic barbarism technical, you do not want to combine the lack of real rivalries (panacea of \u200b\u200ball evil sport that transcends the technical act, according to some), the Iberian remains the only way forward. Dionysian and the dying art of the former dominating tennis succumbs Swiss clearly the emerging face of Serbian Apollonian frantic-eyed partridge. Nothing to do for Roger Federer, shut up and almost choked in his own invincibility and shrine of memories, good against Novak Djokovic . Good, and nothing more. The Serb for the occasion sports a full black-eyed pirate, attached colored bandage to the knee. To camouflage the shiny armor as bacherozzo the night of the emirs and to frighten the opponent. This is not enough that scary face painting macabre horror. Nole continues in the wake of recent successes. Davis from the Australian Open. Start well focused, delivered with impeccable service without giving way to the opponent to enter the match. Chin chin and mouth open by foster-brother of "Igor" Marty Feldman which mimics the syncopated version of Munch's scream, he continues on his way. Reversal in the running, arms and legs from a side part, as a rigid jointed puppet loaded with Duracell.
Federer remains inside the bell of glass, mirror and remember it something poetically useless, while the other gasps his shots regularly. The damping action, the usual opening, Djokovic has to start the second set, the first occasion on which his service becomes more human. Just two old whipping suspended former monarch's head pops out of that casket alienated. Here he is, he thinks someone. The classic moment when the match turns. Too easy to understand even for a Tibetan goat disguised as a sports journalist worthy of a lombrosario. Djokovic always offers the occasion, and the sample record of the immortals can not take advantage. Nothing could be more misleading, because quell'abbrivio, once again, Federer threw it away. Peers from the window of opportunity, before closing his fingers in the door. In a clumsy, awkward, disarming. And 'the clear sign of a rivalry that has perhaps changed its inertia, moving from the Serbian side. That, as often happens all'elvetico, is turning into disease, Alzheimer without antidotes. Federer gives the feeling of frenetic slow suffocation, in spite of the oxymorons and who invented them. Here it is in fact return the service break with a game worthy of a Gasquet disguised as a normal day I learned. And with the negligence of a spiaggiante Bolelli loses five in a row to end the period 3-6. Never seen so ugly, impalpable, foul. An immodest seals smash performance by horror gallery of Switzerland, with a side of service jammed, some flickering and even ahead of trembling and easy to read even for Gimeno Traver. Definitely not the best and always late on the ball, physically and mentally. Problems that the winding tennis classical resigned Stakhovsky and acrobatic stabs a Gasquet just recovered a semblance of life, could not lay bare. Rejoice
Djokovic and has good reason. Has acquired the right belief, one that is halfway between the lack of humility of the early and the tragic reality that saw him inevitably succumb to the two stronger. Nothing to say, admirable consistency and constancy. But nothing miraculous or unreachable. A healthy Nadal, Federer and easily swept it away again. The Juan Martin Del Potro in 2009 in New York brutalized with a regular 6-2 and Nadal came of Federer in five sets battle. But with whether and with but does not go anywhere. Even the best Henin bags would make a mouthful of Wozniacki and Zvonareva. A Romina Oprandi in slippers beat Renata Voracova of momentum, Gasquet beating Gilles Simon of law would life to impress upon the stone of the twelve tables, rather than sensational surprise if all of the top one hundred run into a bad day or retire, I knew always wins, and so on. But with whether and with but does not go anywhere. A brief digression
deserves its Juan Martin Del Potro , more convincing in the U.S. touring and grabbed the last final in Delray Beach. The tournament is what it is, just think that on these shores has triumphed over the likes of Xavier Malisse and Ernests Gulbis, and even opponents are softer than those that will bite in 1000 Masters and Grand Slams. But that's something, compared to the dire predictions of a few months ago. And then
let's enjoy the ecstatic mood with dominant Djokovic has freed us from evil dictators of the sport. The submental worshipers horror aesthetic will be happy. Djokovic is without a doubt is the best in the first months of the season. The first objective. The spirit of hideous ecstasy then fills in keeping with his chest puffed up, the prominent chin and an expression of ferocity nell'alargire now relaxed the audience cheering the usual three-fingered salute. For the avoidance of doubt the good points: one two three. What will it mean? The Old-conspiracy began a bedlam of fanciful conjecture. The third victory of something? The Three Little Pigs? Will win a third Grand Slam at Wimbledon by beating Grannollers in the final? La Nina, the Pinta and the Santamaria? The three monkeys getting drunk? It 's a fan of Qui-Quo-Here? Maramaldeggia that beat the opponent with three fingers? The triad Giraudo, Moggi-shop? The wolf, the leopard and the lion? The fact that Serbia had taken three goals from Latvia (this at the suggestion of a sharp journalist rai)? And 'one of the veterans of the diaspora of the "third pole", resistant to the cattle market gears? All off-road. It 's a simple and naive greeting abused by para-fascist and ultranationalist Serbs to indicate anything other than God, country and emperor. Nothing so strange and reckless. Everyone salutes as he wishes, and the viewer into their own idea. In the limit may fear that a loosening in the future begin to greet with outstretched arm as in Germany the '30s. Wonder what that means in a sporting event (even national teams), a gesture that the militia inflicted to the body of their enemy (Muslim, Catholic, Croatian or Kosovar), sliced \u200b\u200bpinky and ring finger and leaving the other three fingers as a final farewell. Maybe, but I still believe that he meant "We were in three, three donkeys and three bandits on the road ... Girgenti. Clearly alluding to the challenge in three of him, Nadal and Federer.

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ANNUNTIO VOBIS



announced new opening of my second blog dedicated solely to the art ...
http://estebangallery-bruant.blogspot.com/
if someone wants to spread the word I would be grateful. Stefano

Garmin Map Updates Free

The beatification of conscience

(photo Dailyblog)

morals and moralists

What they have in common the two most common forms of life on earth but the peculiarity of being predatory?

The ability of the multiplication and dissemination is active in both, and both may occur with deleterious effects on the ecosystem on the planet. But in addition, in humans it also adds the perniciousness of the will of behavior. While in the most archaic forms of life, the behavior is natural and being written in the chains of DNA or RNA, is added in humans something that sets it apart and puts a box any higher than any living thing: the will. In other words, the man is to be more contagious and dangerous than living on this earth, and probably, in this remote corner of the universe.

The high hazard of being human is not so much on the spread of disease ; infections and closely related to being Homo Sapiens, but is given by a more dangerous: the dissemination of what we call Simplify the "conduct" more spicificatamente deteriorating "human behavior."

Man is the only living creature that is able to "explain" their behavior, and the grandeur of this capacity is one that is also its most negative feature: the ability to deceive himself.

We are beings that we can justify everything and its opposite with equal validity, and we can say with conviction, a belief firmly disconoscerlo then the next minute.

"Truly I tell you this very night, before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice" (Matteo/26).

We are beings who are able to fight battles for issues principle, matters of high principle, but those same beings that we are able to kill just for the mere possession of base money.

We are the alpha and omega at the same time, and probably in essence this is the entire mystery of the human being.

We are at a time when everyone, one way or another, there ergiamo as defenders of what is ethics. Whether public or private does not matter, and the rest do not understand what it means private or public ethics, ethics is ethics point!.

We are fascinated by the discourse of comportomenti on volumes and volumes are spoken and written on this subject, and factions are facing immense with superhuman effort.

However, it remains the indisputable fact that the decline is still in place, and the abyss of human poverty, is before our eyes every day.

human infection spreads with unnatural speed, and the spread of behaviors increasingly devoid of "consciousness" is exalted as a model to follow, indeed, is the only model known.

course, in particular, the Italians today we might refer to specific issues of political scandal on the carpet. Wrong lot in this case, because on closer inspection, the ongoing decline is much more deep and is never alone on the other side, but I believe, dwells in us all, how exactly does a deadly virus infection grade 4 in what is called the host.

We always tend to think that the other is to have misconduct, and the other is bad, which is the other's at fault, a sort of impunity Parliamentary reserve to ourselves, even indignation when the others want to assume the same impunity.

We are strange, evil, murderous in our essence.

For the less attentive enough to think that at the forthcoming beatification of Pope, gentlemen businessmen, they thought, even with all the legal standing of the case, and the economic justification of the case, to raise up to 8-10 times the price of accommodation during the event.

Now jump over the chair before this news, and the same will raise eyebrows simply commenting "is the market" are the laws of supply and demand "is capitalism."

"It 's the market," the justification and explanation of the most common of these decades. The human being has found a scientific explanation for profanity and immodest behavior, and the solution at hand for everyone. The same

giving this explanation for this fact as an example, stand in the courts inflexible for other events.

This is our supreme being, behavior of "low value" may be justified or condemned to discretion, but forgetting to focus attention on the problem indicated by the "low value".

There outraged by the "low value" in itself, but there indignamo (lievemente!!) For the COPE which performs this behavior of "low value".

I think as a man, regardless of scope, the "low value" is always a negative behavior. The consciousness of the Proprietor turn of the politician or the party by night is no different, consciousness is the same, and this is not that one is better than the other.

This applies to the conscience of us all, just think, we all like the hoteliers or the beloved politicians, in our small area.

Peace to all.

Digivue Universal Driver

RODDICK HEART, FUTURE RAONIC

The proud flight Roddick broke the spell Raonic vehement. A Sunday like any other. To wait for the "Atomic sweep us away." That yet another mummy Eastern brushwork with squid ink is sent to hell. In the extreme by imagining a bunch of fascists sent whitewashed tombs where they deserve: All 'Island of the Famous (brutally final version), surrounded by tiger sharks and piranhas that sdegnino the foul meat, because there is a limit to everything.
But luckily there is tennis. I enjoy the final tournament in Memphis. Mica Flushing Meadows. Starring: the rampant Canadian born in Podgorica Milos Raonic and the old Andy Roddick still competitive at medium high. A little 'I had hoped that the final with the young Milos came Juan Martin Del Potro . But the gunman has surrendered to Tandil still in the semifinals, as in San Jose. Faint signs of revival, in the slow path back to the top. Hopefully. For the meantime, between old shot, aches and large breaks, the rediscovery of the positive t-shirt. Without the proverbial tank tops discover armpits prevents the chilling effect "Franchino" fantozziana of memory. The final
ignores expectations, without predictable ground air missiles and bombs. The old Andy, propelled influenazato and proud, We just do not think of leaving the field to the young phenomenon grew in the Ontario shore. Raonic is in his second consecutive final after winning in San Jose. There will be Masters of 1000, but the clear indication of a star about to explode in all its power. Only the blind and the "Nandi Verdasco (still dazed by the second Scoppola north of receipt), can not find in the Canadian boy the stigmata of the future sample. Speak, poor Nando, still in shock, "other sports". So clouded by Karlovic put in half, showing great dementia, in the field, but especially outside. He will play another sport, but tennis masters. Not only clusters of ace, but a hammering wise even bounce and a handful of tasty hand placed volleys. Dell'imberbe typical boy frowning face, still shocked by the sudden growth of adolescence, this scratching without muscles and narrow shoulders continues in his job even against Roddick. Services devastating forehand and halberds elusive, departing from his racket with impressive speed. Without much effort or need to be big jim musculature. Operate the arm and so virtuous. It should be the main dogma to distinguish the art tennis talent built (Chapter 1, first paragraph).
Almost inevitable the two exciting tie-break. A normal leisure youth Raonic gives the first American. In second is to climb into the chair, however, Milos, demonstrating another feature impressive character and mental strength uncommon for two decades. Even more surprising when you consider that playing against an entire building, and the beginning of the match that his opponent has staged work by hazing Tennis distasteful, influencing judges and referee. And his country, give it to him a helping hand willingly, with over rules and two rebounds embarrassing not seen under the nose of the umpire. But the Canadian cancels three match points, like a natural thing, taking the match in the third.
The guy seems to give up, just fifteen 1-5 in the deciding set, before the nth comeback that brings it on 5-5. Now the Yankees have experienced the shocked face of incredulity, mixed with frustration. It 'another clear signal. The old standard that gives a perfect sense of helplessness admired. Expression of dismay that I read in the features of the old dug nineteen SuperMAC against Sampras, unable to stem what seemed contrived tennis on the moon, it was so devastating. Here, divide the two characters per cent yesterday, put the cement in place of the Memphis, at the time still green, in Flushing Meadows, and you will have the same passing of the baton. E 'Roddick even more hectic, a lot of tics and quell'imbarazzante ravanare the family jewels, worthy of a major league hitter who just spit chewing tobacco. But we're not losing. Match point, the fifth or sixth, has lost count. Here is the other exploding yet another forehand Minella abnormal to go out, the AC and excellent volleys placed, Andy grabs desperately, almost turning it into cement and digging through winning dive in pike. The hit of the year, definitely. Complete with cap and tumble scarnificante flitting away from discovering the bald balding. On stage there premizione
of the clear picture of the match. The Andy flat, tired and bleeding, happy to have brought home the match against the new "feel" the tennis world and winning the thirtieth career title. The Canadian guy happy for the second consecutive final. Play on your top twenty. It will become the top ten. Amen.

Soderling continues to make a clean sweep, Almagro reuccio South America. After Rotterdam, Robin Soderling he also takes the tournament in Marseille and continues to buy up smaller loot, despite being weakened by a nasty flu. To take all shots, very pleasant by the quail volleante Mahut Llodra and , until rediscovered "Robocop" Tursunov . In the final, Swedish is the psychotic leader of a complicated match against Marin Cilic , recovering after a long period of lethargy stop trembling. What Coach has made Goran Ivanisevic (the word can arouse laughter coach, but so is) to awaken "the bad sleep in the woods"? I imagine his eyes appallati of the best opportunities to bestow joyful racket in the kneecaps, as the good old days, when the shattered fields. The image is priceless. Note also responsible for Misha Youzhny, who fight in the French palace as a toothless old lion with Paturnie. Tsonga beats a growing but still minimal and then, in perfect harmony with the intent to dance a waltz locusts Tyrol in his skull, surrenders to Cilic. In Buenos Aires
second win in a row for "Ciccio ugly Almagro, a real lion cub indomitable touring in South America. Ugly as a hallucinogenic nightmare poisoned mushrooms and in a post scoppiattante, Nico emerges in the usual cloud of soil arrembanti. Including the elderly and old snake of clay Juan Ignatio Chela in the final, and the constant Tommy Robredo in the semifinals, where a Ligurian is still running after her best expression to slap immediate and shouts back "Hombre de mierda! Hombre de mierda. " And while that continues to make the results that he can only imagine in his dreams by champion. Also in Baires, another useless and sleepy appearance of David Nalbandian which seems to remain only Mundial Club and Davis. Disturbing return to the world of tennis ATP for Jose Acasuso , ultimately leading to Bucamarango only South American and other challengers for a prize of a sheep alive. Reached the quarter-finals (beating even Dolgopolov, among others), with that a bit 'so, that refers to the atmosphere worthy of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Almost reluctantly called back to on a tennis court, sweaty and just returned from a sultry afternoon spent in a Colombian brothel, with the propellers of the ceiling fan running tired.

Wozniacki, the queen of non-slam . Returned to her habitat, Caroline Wozniacki also found a striking form. Extends all, or rather, leads to madness every opponent in the cross-rich tournament in Dubai. Dressed in white-orange as the granddaughter of Rene Van de Kerkhof, in the semifinals ridicules Jelena Jankovic (or at least more than the Serbian sgroppante it already is, when he plays his volleys in disgraceful and cowardly backdown clumsy) . Then in the final also sent to the asylum Svetlana Kuznetsova . "Caroline A new, more aggressive," the speaker rings. But of course, right. A series of furious race desperate and recoveries, with the ball placed near the bottom line. The ever charming and feminine Svetlana goes out of laps. Usually male behavior, frowning face and screams worthy of a savage wild boar near the male castration without anesthesia. One, two, three, four acceleration accompanied by trembling gasp, before pulling the fifth pigeon and curse in Denmark, the world, tennis, physical beauty ...

to you the match of the century: Seppi -Petzshner . Some notes in the margin, perhaps more important than what happens in the hub. A Delray Beah will play an ATP tournament. Meanwhile, on those fields, as an aperitif, the nearly 52 year old John McEnroe does not want to stop and give joy coy embroidery graying. Jay Berger beat (the man who served passing his racket behind his back at the risk of decapitating each), and then check with the "young" Todd Martin 3-6 6-3 12-10 in the super tie-break. Now maybe play the final, maybe against the other immortal hero Pat Cash , he also authored an excellent scalp, to the detriment of the other "young" Mark Philippoussis (the one who wanted to return to the professional circuit, and 12 months ago, has also tried).
This hat I needed to strengthen themselves spiritually, before talking dell'atroce nothing. In Dubai, in fact, return to play loud ones (from Federer Djokovic). But among emirs, petro dollars, construction and camels spetazzanti fiction, here stands the first round to make his skin crawl. To the disgust that borders on horror. Petzschner-Seppi . A brilliant artist with no brain in constant short circuit against the hero caldarense the cowardly attitude of defeat. I great shots-designed from an unstable mind dead, as opposed to dying of a haggard fiatelle madioman coward. As I write and eat a stalk of celery (satisfying and substantial), I see the result. Dominates Seppi, 6-3 4-2. Then the other lights for five minutes, the brain, and ends up winning 3-6 7-6 6-2. The acrobatic talent top 150 dead, with rare peaks tennis from the first twenty (you'll need the usual 5 minutes, on average), can not prevail against the mediocre by normal top 60. Say some poor idiot caretaker-grandson of hierarchy, that sooner or later meet in person. And "do not spit because otherwise the perfume" (Quoting Cettolaqualunque).

an ATP 02/21/2011 - Dubai - Andreas Seppi vs Philipp Petzschner (Vincent match) Philipp Petzschner 2:00
No Win Bet Win Total 30.00 60.00

Sock Hop Wording On Invitations

Report on first meeting - held as a session YdR - next appointment.

far exceeded expectations! Lots of participation, enthusiasm, great energy, especially if we consider that this was the first meeting and for many it was really primisssima time!

Thank you, thank you to everyone. Gradually discover the benefits of this practice. We mentioned in the introduction to something, but the best, as always, comes with time.

WHAT IS A SESSION OF LAUGHTER YOGA

First of all, no one else is the same as another session. It 's important not to get bored, so depending on the composition of the group, changing the exercises. The are many things to do and practice of Laughter Yoga can introduce a huge number of variants. In the sessions that he personally led the club, I tend to follow, however, a pattern. We begin seated in a circle, chatting a few minutes. This is the moment when we welcome new and exchange ideas and suggestions with the regulars. It 's also a time of transition from everyday life, where we tend to follow rules and are more controlled, a liberating moment in a protected environment, where you can dissolve for a while' the tensions, knowing that no one will judge us for this.

Soon after, inziamo with warm-up exercises (which may include some simple stretching exercises and deep breathing). So begins the session proper, where you perform the exercises that stimulate laughter, as a group. Are asked to maintain visual contact in order to exploit the emotional contagion. The exercises are interspersed with deep breaths.

Sometimes, especially if you are many, the Club are used to insert some aspects mediated by the theater, as simple non-competitive games or sessions of mimi "gibberish" (the language of non-sense) or "grounding dance" a special kind of dance (simple) which stabilizes the emotions. Throughout

During the session you should avoid conversations or verbalizations. The only permitted verbalizations are those that make use of gibberish (sounds meaningless). The purpose of the session is in fact to use as much as possible the right cerebral hemisphere, the seat of emotions and creativity. In the life of each and every day, striving to be rational, we tend to overload the left brain, to the detriment of the right. At the end of the session you should feel full of enrgia and a bit 'more free from inhibitions.

At this point we enter the final phase of the session, that of guided relaxation, after which, again, you are free to exchange ideas and comments as the beginning and we are preparing to return to "normal" world, perhaps with a little more light and ... some more friend!

The procedure takes about an hour. In the Club all have free access to an original practice, simple and fun, offering many benefits for body and mind (this is called Yoga).

next Saturday (February 26), DUE TO WORK IN MY COMMITMENT TO OVERRIDE THE NORMAL TIME, OCCASIONAL We'll meet from 18:30 to 19:30. Saturday, March 5 CONTINUE WITH THE STANDARD TIME FROM 14.30. COMPANIES AND INVITED TO PARTICIPATE. WAITING FOR YOU!

Driving With A Expired License British Columbia

WATER NOT LAVA ...


just do not want. There.

He stared, sitting in the car. Expected. Every now and then looking at the sea. Then again her. Silence. She continued to keep an eye on the thread of smoke rising from the cigarette. He seemed not to expect anything. Nothing at all.

Out on the beach behind the glass, a man was running. And a dog.

were parked under tall pine trees along the promenade. The windows were beginning to fog. Nobody on the beach. Besides the man who already was gone, disappeared behind the side windows, behind the clump of oleanders.

It was still spring. At least. She seemed so.

- go down? We walk a bit '?

He had watched hour, straight into his eyes. Can melt the pain, or was it on again?
- I do not want to walk. I want to say that the remains. Now. What you say. The bottom
scrutinized, lit. How was the last time.

Basically every time he looked at her like that. Also the last time. But then not.

He was never the last time.
kept hell. Him with her thoughts and desire for her to burn inside. A dig like a hand with fingernails. A take away everything else. Let me naked. No future.
you think of that one, ever. Always. Like this but better.

The first drops.
- is absurd, listen. It hurts to see you so. I can not a.

heartfelt voice, as sad as a child. But it was a little girl. And perhaps it was not even sad. It was nothing. Now. Nothing more. He was not even there. The cigarette thrown. He thought of the man who ran before. I wonder where was she. With its festive dog. Tongue out. He thought that he would be home. To think about what he wanted. Lying in bed. As death. Without necessarily having to speak. Without explaining. Consular. Calm. There was nothing to console and there was peace. Impossible.
- you have to do anything. Alone remains.
He had taken her hands and squeezed, hard. Almost made her sick. It looked like a revenge for all the abyss where sank every time he had in his eyes. It looked like a prison. A trap. A trap can always look like a home. She thought. Or maybe not. Leave me alone, think again. But did not say.

The rain increased. Drummed on the roof of the car like a cry, a mangled reference to streams.

She looked out. The outside was not there more. It was all a downpour. A whole succession of drops oblique. What is exceeded. Merged. Slipped away. Forever.
The sea in front of them twitching restlessly, as in her the desire of the other, silent, yet still kept in close together. always together.

- ... So what? Ruins? I see you again? Say yes.
And she, the other in the soul, heart, skin and eyes, the other was not there, (there was never. Never. Never), the other, based wound, the other wind, fog and salt and breath
- Rest, yes, rest. Yes

Out now, it was time. Thunder and bursts of light. Strong wind. Havoc. The giant sea
a shady and restless shouted his anger.

Nobody around. Just water. That does not wash at all. It was not enough to wash anything. Nothing.

Tramp Is Miniature Schnauzer

RAONIC, NEW PAIR AND THE WIND. AND THE USUAL TRAMONTANA SODERLING

"Psycho Killer" Divella windmills . Without prodigious Ride of the Valkyries or inspired by the best symphonies of Mahler, the tennis season is in that phase of sleepy tired before important meetings. In this arrembante waltz for people looking for location, beautiful space it carves out its Robin Soderling. A sound of ignorant Sleeveless rudimentary. But this is history. The psychotic lumberjacks of Tundra, repeating the success of last season in Rotterdam, proving worthy of the peaks reached. Not only serial killer impromptu trance of the most powerful, capable of genuine virulence Divella with rude and blind ambitions of the favorites in the romantic Parisian proscenium, but also disturbed and constant bounty hunter tournament "minor."
Robin and convincing wins in the Netherlands. Tournament, as witnessed by the names of past winners in the gallery, has a good tradition. A good win in the final against Jo-Wilfried Tsonga . Match only partially retains the expectations of battle violently beautiful. The Swede check the correctness of the September 3 "Cassius Jo, fragile clay giant, which also could technically do a lot more of the rough opponent, is stranded at the distance wistfully. Incapable of that, almost unique in the human world, skills in combining shots medieval scimitar fluettanti stored in foil. Continues to be torn, as a one-off intermittent rumbling from the engine drowned out by traffic on city streets. Maybe not the courts, on his way. Maybe. What is certain is that the poor fool, nihilistically increasingly delusional, struck in 2008 to point to predict the victory of a slam by 2012 (enrollment penalty the circles of freedom together with the bilingual Nicole Minetti and a passionate kiss in the moonlight to Cicchitto), it is increasingly resigned. And that is languid kiss Cicchitto. Of leprosy is contagious dies. If so, take a previously secular in my honor. Even watching a match old McEnroe will alleviate the sufferings of my deceased.
Returning to the sauce, if anything, there were triumphs "Psycho Killer" Soderling. Great club, even a semblance of moderation tactics, between blind rage and extreme myopia. And the proverbial "fists", complete with a pleased look to his corner, tightening the lip like a child who is pleased that he stole the jam. Coach Pistolesi (seemed to me thin 2 ounces of good), all constipated, holds barely contentment. Some had to tell him. In the past few months from being considered inappropriate to forge the amazing qualities of a delicious Italian by ectoplasm top 50 at most (Bolelli) to train a thoroughbred top 5. Italian flair. Robin seems to have acquired even a moderate mental maturity, and balance over the senseless murder of the fund. The tournament, more than in the final or the semifinals, where he mastered in the safety of frogs croak in the brain of Misha Youzhny, he won the second round. That 's where unlined lion character and courage in canceling a match point to Philipp Kohlschreiber in the decisive tie-break.

acrobatic feats from home for unbalanced seals. Yes, you heard right, Philipp "Kolhi" Kohlschreiber . And here the conversation slips inexorably toward my beloved trained seals, suffering from dystonia neurocerebral. German, arrembante agonist as even a chinchilla in the season of copulation (or as I learned, for wild fields Berghem de haut) gives a performance sanding. Usually it has three per season. We are the one played in Rotterdam. Doth sumptuous shots, some captivating and descents garrulous net with volleys lying softly. Always with that face a bit 'so, who does not know whether to buy at the supermarket radishes or wild chicory. Eyes dull, sleeping and surreal look hairstyle with vague hints of banana, a corollary of an adorable picture of Baroque dying. But how not to mention the other of Germany Philipp. Philipp "Picasso" Petzschner . Darting and ready to fight. He that in this early season has to defend the two semi-finals of last year and threatens to plunge more than 170 of the position rankings. Forever. Motivated, then, and spring loaded. Lost in qualifying, falling against the Russian robocop Dimitry Tursunov. Fished as a "lucky looser" after the resignation of Ernests Gulbis (everyone has a little bit of illogic disarming), also enters into the board. Picasso, "lucky loser". What involuntary trembling words can better describe the essence of man. He honors the hand of Lady Luck be overwhelmed by the knotty Dutch De Bakker, 6-1 in the third. Not before winning the second 6-0. The Picassi settle for what is known. Then along with the trust appears circus Medrano ( Jurgen Melzer ) illuminates the front of the stage with acrobatic circus knitting. The dual is true, and only, way of Picasso. Repeat bad, but I said it in time no suspects.
noisy appearance in Rotterdam for a new and playful adept, now almost a regular customer: Benoit Paire . Skip the qualifiers and beating none other than Gilles Simon. Just look at a few shots to see that victory was never the most technically justified. And even religiously. Then lost to Ljubicic. Benoit is a stray Gattaccia, hopelessly devoted to defeat amazing. Or the most unexpected victory. North wind blows and winning huge sleeping, languid damped double faults and repeat. A Baroque building burned down by aliens. Just look at a point, and understand all of the brilliant bohemian French. The other serves for the match. Makes a drop shot, not really short and here is the trans action hero. Two sleepy cat leaps forward detachment in suspension and left scroll ball hit with racket between his legs. The other takes over and closes the field unprotected. And wins.

Raonic and Almagro, sounding two blasts . God is my witness. And even some writing. Milos Raonic great revelation of 2011. Along with the pleasant "low crotch" Ricardas Berankis by magic hand, and for lovers of disasters spineless, even at that Benoit Paire above. Milos, a giant Canadian Slavic origin, with the beardless face and chubby schoolboy from a good family Harvard University, send all to the mat, winning his first ATP tournament in San Jose. Service works is that if stem only from the superhero "kiavik, exploded and hit the rebound, as well as good things to the network. Beat in two sets grouse Verdasco, with lowered crest and more "like a Tabasko Verdasco (corrected to xamamina). I'd also played my imaginary house, on that two sets to zero. The girl hit and character, and I hear him speak.
Nell'atp Brazilian SUIP Costa do however, manage to have a great final between two top 15 authentic Nicols Almagro and Alexander Dolgopolov . At the end wins the Iberian. Arrogance essence stinging rain and buffeted. Struts atrocities behavioral and white cherub apology from his opponent with hand raised. But when I do win bets, is much more tolerable. Well also Dolgopolov (maybe it was better to see him playing in other tournaments on the fast), and that, hence the throw burning permanently, will do the Masters in London. If you said to Bolelli and Seppi, and are still on the loose ...

WTA number one with tumble Clijsters, Hantuchova he sees himself. The WTA lived on spasmodic (yes, as a rally to Rutelli and tobacco) pending Kim Clijsters new number one. Designated as such even by computer. And for once, not the usual gimmick to mislead. Target reached easily from the mother Dutch premiere in Paris. But celebrated with the unexpected defeat in the final at the hands of Petra Kvitova . Member of czech tennis tradition always generous, year to date on the levels of the best. Ottoman service and constant pounding left-handed, with that made off the student suffers from a physical Juno. It takes a little short.
Italian on the shields in the WTA Pattaya City. Our second line, Sara Errani and Roberta Vinci , facing one of the semifinals. It causes great sadness to see the wonderful slice of elegant solutions Robertina, go against the unwatchable tractor revving screaming Errani (commendable, for the love of Buddha). But that's life. The tracagnotta Bologna with his arms by dockers, pulling two winners throughout the tournament (four in preseason), reached the final. Then collects the lupins and two games in the finals, dominated by a newfound Daniela Hantuchova . Good return of the Slovak gazelle always nice and flat geometric evolutions. Between high, low and angry bickering with the scale, there is more than a decade. Perhaps for that, instead of his 42 years shows 27.

Mount & Blade Build A Fort

SGRULLO pee (Bettors are born)

Starring: Me ("PEE") and my (now) only friend (call him affectionately "Sgrullo of").
Dialogue (I think) intercepted by the narcotics and vice squad in joint action.
S . Scommessina?
P . But of course (with lots of expression devoured by greed).
brief huddle on the uselessness of football betting. Policy compelling: The cunt of Fig. The twins De Vivo. Ruby heartthrob. Noemi. Sara Tommasi and all of apparatao zoccolame around the rotten miserable ravings of a mentally ill person who governs a country, making us the laughingstock of the third / fourth world. "Sgrullo of" is an anarchist sminchiato, feebly sympathizer Beppe Grillo. But agrees with me (maybe to please) the usefulness of a peaceful demonstration. Hang in the square. All naked and with the meat hanging limp in the wind. Exposed to non-violent public ridicule of the nations, which in turn wilted Nerbini their pudenda and spit on those hideous faces Lombroso.
Then it's back to serious things. The bet.
P . I put Seppi 2-0 (1.66. Ok we lost to Gstaad, but want to leave a set in his kingdom Maffert Bergamo?) Berdych 2-0 (2.10, I figured, I stretched mercilessly that Garcia Lopez) and 2-1 Paire (quoted at 12.00. It 's one of those things that you feel in your skin. I really believe that the French win. Paire is one that has no awe of anybody. It could beat Nadal and lose in listless ease by or against Vassallo Arguello a fisherman sighted in Antigua.).
(15 €, winning about 620.00. Very good.)
S . seeeeee
P . Look, I understand it to court (a insolence of heavy wire impermalosito from "Sgrullo." One of tennis that can count only a dog, Camporese, Forget and Jaime Yzaga). Even football, I mean. So much so that I could begin to cheer on the team, what's his name ... the intfssshs ...
S . (Laughs, but does not include)
P . I play, if you do not want to risk a two out of three recoveries and the bet, no?
S . No, the limit point only 5 € and the other I leave them for another ...
P . Do what you think.
S . (Stresses) Yeah ... it is difficult to get them dry with the set betting is impossible! Limit them to play without a set betting now I see what comes.
P . All right, upstream. Do it myself.

Two steps into the car. I think Hitler was democratically elected by the German people at risk of hitting 180km / h an old man who was traveling at a crawl on her pretty lambretta of 1912. Lele Mora imagine lying on a sofa, surrounded by half-naked maidens squittenti also ready to sell virginity headset smiling and panting muscular decerebration the throne of "men and women" as a mirage of life. And I bet more than infallible. Heck, if (as usual) I want to win € 15/20, at which point I would make a bet on the faint-hearted: Robredo (you want the re-match Fognini can win? His triumph is already good to insult him. To the delight of many and spetazzi neurocerebral phenomenal supporters, who with a brilliant rush chilling call it "sewer"). There would be the ultra-reliable, in the early rounds, Nishi and Vinci . Rely on in the brain of locusts screaming Misha Youzhny . Not to mention the double Errani / Vinci (do not lose against people weaker than them since 1957, I believe). Or, if you want to dream, the couple who will be declared a UNESCO short: Kimiko Date / Romina Sarina Oprandi . The little samurai and plump dove mountain.

At home, at 20.35. Napoleon (the cat) was ingroppando a pillow, fell in love with the little eye. Still excited, I took the neck and sent into the garden.
"Shoo! Go away eecchione, Get a life! Found a cat or I'll castrate without anesthesia Giggi from the butcher. " I heard someone laughing. Maybe my neighbor (very ugly. It looks like a young Jamie Lee Curtis, but with no boobs. Basically a useless thing for the common sentiment. And soon by ministerial decree.). Napoleon has run started slowly and unsteadily, towards the world. Must overcome shyness otherwise never fuck, that. It's not like Satan, who became pregnant for the feline half the town. Five years from stallion. It was my father's pride, Satan. I
of philosophizing reflections: This cat does not look like the tireless pipatore our Sultan. Should I speak to in order to find Lele Mora a cat that does so many problems?
still trying to think of giving birth and ancestral ruminations. On TV there
mouthpiece which is aimed at a blonde troiame freedoms without any shame:
"But you just can not get angry? He fails, eh? And vabbeh.. "
Behold, I now I would vote Bocchino. It 's the sign that I'm crazy, or that this country is sick.
But meanwhile it is too late to play and I knew Berdych. Match started which of course will end up 2-0.
me a little consternation.

today. Lunch. Un'insalatona eat, sad as the face of Juan Chela Ignatio that standing up with the copula Prestigiacomo. Willing to stake at least 2-1 the young man transalpine 12.00. But the match has already begun. Nasty that Minetti (replaced the sense "bitch" on Zanichelli). Sul (prevedibilissimo) set equal, I decide to place it at 6.00. I lodge, and a trembling green screen appears to indicate: site unreachable. Despite a Tremonti. Of intelligence, counterintelligence, or whomever. Forget it, eat a steaming coffee em'avvio the place of alienation. Without thinking about how it will end.

recent history. I see the result.
Paire Benoit-Gilles Simon 6-2 2-6 6-3.
SMS sent to "sgrullo of"
P . Played then?
S . No, the game tonight on Wednesday there are a lot of football games.
P . Ah, the good jerk. But you know that you are really idiot, yes? Just got back from here we go around, doing & Foolish Foolish. We deserve Berlusconi, Bossi and La Russa, and troiame. I'll tell you. What else is worth two people like that?
S . Are you okay?
P . Normal.
me no more answered. And then I pointed out in another message:
Good. However, the next time I feel to bet, I remember that sodomizing a hen. I mean a real chicken, not those who live all'olgettina (also done rhyming couplets).

Wash Fleece With Warm Water Jacket

ITALTENNIS, joy and sorrow

Fognini and Starace, the final all blue (the play station route). And the usual pantomime by Italians abroad. I read a site of the mentally ill. Because it is obvious that those people have the wheels turning backwards. Mind you, not the articles (they only tolerate my goldfish dying in the bulb, when he needs to get hurt intellectual), but the comments. The comments are a hoot. Overwhelming comedy provided "free", would say "er fracico" (an intellectual end host). On Thursday two Italians in the quarterfinals here finals of the prestigious tournament in Santiago, Chile in the middle of the Andean cordillera, and between jovial songs of Intillimani, which lend a great inner peace and a desire to die a bloody death in the second round of six minutes. In short, a mediocre tournament. One of the many (perhaps too many) ad hoc media figure able to win some flash (think Kevin Anderson nodosa pole winner in Johannesburg and the cool snowman in this sapientino Dodig of Zagreb).
On Thursday two heroic Italians abroad come here to the quarter-finals (Starace and Fognini), Chile Scene jubilee among commentators / supporters "Italian". Things never seen before. Aided by the eve Nalbandian ('ZZO we going to do as a Nalbandian among graminivorous journeyman soil?) out in the second round, you could dream of. We already questioned the final all blue, the mental Minus Habens. Up to a par of years ago I would have enjoyed songs, acting. It was my second favorite sport. Not any more, because in them there is the tragedy of unawareness. They do not know, and even touches them the idea that as written before, the tournament is "ad hoc media figure able to win some flash." And ours are capable of lightning? One is a regular long-distance rider, who can not offer more than generous offer. The other, rather than give lightning, was struck by lightning. It 'obvious. Euforia
uncontrollable when the two fearless heroes calling the semifinals. The first rule of justice and with great craft, the left-handed Zeballos (Death of paunchy Nalba nap), the other wins the match more atrociously bad in the last 182 years against sport unwatchable Brazilian Bellucci. A torture. The tennis similar to a traffic light flashing in our plots to take precedence over the thresher and intermittent dementia obscene brasileiro. There may be.

history died of a pantomime Italic unseemly. Delirium among the stars unbalanced. Some also talk of Roland Garros Grand Slam 2012, Vilas, Connors, Borotra ... Then you get to the semifinals, and Starace can only surrender to Santiago Giraldo, spartan and primitive thug made in Colombia, after a good start and honorable defense. But it's another to get the headlines (almost black). Fognini if \u200b\u200bhe saw her with Tommy Robredo, and as is normal for the long suffering from the Iberian expert. The usual ups and downs that the Ligurian anaemozionale offers non-stop for lovers of anything surreally bad (it was funny, yet-still, one is passionate Bastian Knittel or Grimelmayer). Never seen such a sloth snooty, rude and oblivious to the days of John McEnroe. The dislike for excellence. We just want to be rude, arrogant and vulgar when your name is John McEnroe and you have a hand that could enchant and anesthetized with a bull Paturnie homicidal, thanks to a simple stop volley at Wimbledon's Centre Court. It should be great courage and fearlessness that borders on the absolute madness, if your name is Fabio Fognini, you did not win anything, you have a modest Talentino unwilling to play a top 50 and 250 in Santiago, Chile
short, things happen ever seen. The experienced and Iberian repellent is the decisive break at the beginning of the third set, thanks to an Italian shot off center. Sing as if he won the Roland Garros exhaling a urlaccio have also heard that the Native Americans in Arizona. Fognini looks at him and says, quote: "Fuck rejoice? That shit man .... " It might be enough, but (and here the doctrine and reels of wiretapping and lip reading, divide) seems to complete the sentence with a "tennis are strong, but you're a man ... shit." The other looks of disbelief on his face, as if to say, "Emme, I always do, they do almost everyone. He does Nadal in Paris, he is number one in the world and 'fair play award 2011', and I can not do it in Santiago? 'ZZO want little Italian bungabunga (seppiatelo, so call us now abroad, with a little compassion evil)? ". The only think, but a great gentleman does not say anything. The exultation of proportion and semi-intimidating opponent on an error, which is what gives a some discomfort to me. But after years of vague in the circuit or even the simple task to go clubbing, you get used to. You'll make a right. Think of your own, perhaps even charging them more to win the match and pull his face into a successful crossing. This would think a tennis player and a normal man. The Riviera, however, continues in a rutile joyful "man ... shit." Like a mantra, a biofeedback. And of course, loses. The Italian genius in the craft in question. Equally brilliant in moving from right to wrong with a disarming naturalness talented. In a process would be able to pass in the space of five minutes maximum, to be formed for plaintiffs to obtain compensation, to getting four life sentences with daytime isolation.
It is certainly not finished the story for submental beings. Lost the match, our claims even to shake hands with the opponent that, like any medium to be endowed with intellect, refuses indignantly, after explaining to the referee who has suffered unspeakable intolerance throughout September 3 The result is a near-brawl with our coming back in the proverbial speech insulting. And we come to the old story: Can an average man of sound mind, after insulting someone for the entire third set, go near him and love him with a gentle smile to shake hands for the correct decoubertiniana battle? Robredo earns 10 points in my personal card (but started from -110). Fabretti Jarmila can make me look like a sexy siren enchantress Groth. Fognini is able to make it look like a big funny guy Tommy Robredo, with the same talent Sampras. Torando with mental disorders, referred to debut article, is a stream of insults to the English wicked, guilty of having offended the sensibilities of our standard bearer completely right.
Italy, land of saints, sailors, tennis players and mediocre bunga bunga.

Fed Cup, pirates blue in Tasmania. One could expect some kind of addiction, mental fatigue almost monotonous in spending in this event. The first match of the Australia-Italy in comparison to Horbart scene, went in this direction. Do not expect truth. The only axioms that are provable: Schiavone commented by spotlights becomes more intolerable by the hospice piduista Primer Minzolini interviewed by (or for sale if you are for things less hard, but loving blowjob soft) and also under the spotlights of the demonic influences, the 'Australian Jarmila Groth, becomes divine muse flowing and floating, smiling, winking. Better than Jose Maria slicing with Kaia Kanepi and lascivious grace volleante sexier than Kate Moss in the act of removing a tight dress ripe peach, looking witch.
Power of Raitivvì.
The attitude of Francesca Schiavone, arrembante less than usual and almost resigned, suggests something quite simple: A woman who won a slam, it may not have the right motivation in addressing the team event (reduced to ranks and without great international prestige). If he has already won several times, feeling intuitively snerchiuta, will continue to grow. The Milanese Jarmila Groth transferred abruptly to debut in the match. Sore back, or maybe just wind villain crashing into an opponent can not provide rhythm and benchmarks, they put at risk the entire confrontation. The Australia that Italy has a great first singles player among the top 5 (Stosur), younger than ours. And a second singles player in high rise (Jarmila Groth) younger and with more potential to do harm to large levels of Flavia Pennetta. But also a double of experience, with the octogenarian Stubbs to leave international. Here is the match after the first defeat proved to be uphill. If you plan to travel also, even more so. Bravissimo
instead Pennetta (and almost heroic in excellent form) and a rudder to regain his senses Schiavone in the race to the event by showing that we take and how. Impeccable in resize crazy acceleration heroically misguided Stosur Jarmila and a version designed for Robocop after losing big battle.

Repairing Leather Seam

FED CUP 2011 - Jarmila BUM-BUM frighten ITALY

One tries also, for being Italian. Come home when it is still far from bleak dawns in the plains, with tired legs and minds made darting from four Tennent's. Seeks to strengthen the spirit of swallowing one's throat just now Lagavullin melancholy to drain. Australia-Italy's Federations Cup, held in pleasant places foreigners, in the middle of Tasmania. I mean. One has to cheer "The Striptease our beautiful". What the heck. Something to be proud of their country, after a day in which a deranged former patient satyriasis his face and fake smile drawn in the proverbial concrete, there was humiliated once again in Brussels. By its very presence and awkward phrases incensanti mad dictator Mubarak. Viewed as a poor madman by all EU members, to cause a certain limit giggle. Italy has called. Fortified armor from alcohol, I can not fail this time the supreme aim. It's not in my discography, otherwise I would put that piece of moving Toto Cutugno (the real Italian, for instance). Fallback on a photo of La Russa to give me courage. The match begins. There's Francesca Schiavone. Commented by Fabretti.
begin to be uneasy, in my imaginary flag.
screaming like a monkey marsupial blending strokes, Milan. Jumps with his overflowing load of feminine charm, exuding sympathy from every pore. The commentator does not take. E 'in the excited its ugly and verbose elegy of our tennis players. One who does not know life could be led to believe that this beast screams trivial gauge exhaling and balls grind it, is much stronger than Martina Navratilova and Billie Jean King put together. Or even to Maria Jose Martinez Sanchez, who left our heroine two games of human compassion in that of Rome. Do not know mica Jarmila Groth, the adenoid gigioneggiante commentator. He does not know who he is. Ask Van Peteghem, Chiappucci and Petacchi. And I will say something sensible, perhaps.
Remove the flag imagery, and seeking the Lexotan.
Finished. In the midst of that horror
partisan ecstatically describing feminine gesture to embarrass Pappalardo with the jugular swells, there is the charming Jarmila. Slovak girl by birth, Australian by adoption, which suddenly becomes ancestral muse. Bella, a languid feminine polite, calm and even good. Delicious, Jarmila. Throw everything possible, and always, in his mad plan in advance. Darts and arrows. Forehand and backhand especially Biman shot footage of his prince and carried with great ease atypical. She also played with that little girl from the left. Stubborn and idealistic, I like even more. Cede, however, in the delicate and decisive climax at the end of the first set and the beginning of the second. He has a moment of failure discouraged, while calmly or indulge in acts of masculine or repellency snuffed repugnant. The Maramaldo Italiot continues in a frenzied soliloquy flag. A growing hoarse from Rossini to creepy. Of course, when the vile prey seems foreign in the bag (7-6 2-0 40-15) we get the usual mockery of the adversary already won. It solace of taste. "Haha ... more drittaccio that goes ...". The poor wretch Australian misses an easy shot at an open field, and the cabin: "This is the footage shot of the girl, Rita eh? ... Heheh.
ultras have become an Australian. The hominid
in the background would be able to make an anti-Italian La Russa also intent, with expression reassuring to sing the national anthem loudly.
practices have already cooked and buttered pan in the kangaroo. But that has nine lives. The change observed during the camp, in scoring, at home, in a Fed Cup match and dissertations amiably with the captain, indulging in a few provocative smile. There is good in the WTA, in the end. On the strength of quiet charm with resumes sciorinare wild blows and sharp advance and backbeat. Hits like graniuole and on services. From Italy the people think, do not say it but the hint: "They should ban to pull over 190 km / h, otherwise ... eh Francy like it?". also drunk as a sheet tired, and I see a reality all too evident: Schiavone is destabilized by a court so atypical. It has no reference points. Bewildered, unable to take pace. Much less to prevent the other continues to pull mine. The singer feels the danger italics. And here's yet another must for indecent partisanship, even as a short-sighted Ultra curve. Milan is desperate to recover the lemme-lemme out of line, two-hour, under the chair umpire. And he, in his comfortable armchair, in Italy: "It was good! This was good! It also raises Barazzutti (implied: and if she gets Barazzutti so 'cocks!). The merciless replay shows the ball two feet off good. "Maybe we're part of ...", it mocks the unfortunate Rita Grande, in a burst of professional decency (she's not a journalist). "Oh but you know, on this ball ... I was undecided." Chiosa hero. Drunkenness fatal Fabretti guess now I knew coach. The image is beautiful. Then a macaque monkey that screams (almost) as Schiavone, joyful fluttering from branch to branch in the rainforest. Invitation to
comic, Jarmila flies like a devil placid. Tasks and feminine. Closes the second, run in the third. The narrators cling to the cabal at all possible. La Grande is disconsolate. "I see her off, Francesca. Not even a handful, not even shouting 'go' .... " As usual, she was overcome by exhaustion and fatigue dall'insipienza.
now arrived at the debased contempt of flag. Between gasps
strokes of blue and spineless comments sick, I'm afraid I do get to contempt. Could quietly. It is not tennis, is a chronicle of a plaintive calf (male) complaining that while they're cutting the throat. Do something. Where's tennis? The elegant white feats of aesthetic snobbery? E 'instead of the death of aesthetics, this. Ammazzamento a night time And then the night m'impippa no longer a pipe that will be able to hit in top and back, and chop in uderspin and overbackspin and a gazebo and Vattelapesca within the same exchange.
The aussie is running at high speed. Exchange and hard (for once) long, which ends with a delirious and Jarmila release damped in controbalzo. Fantastic shot and difficulty out of 10 100. Imagine if you notice it. Think of the case. You want a comment on a busy race cyclists in the Val di Susa, knows that the Australian was punished by his (sick) after each of several damped coach who used to shoot? Nothing. Not even a quick downpour of rain slows the travel of the kangaroo, which closes: 6-7 6-3 6-3. Then we think
Pennetta to balance the fate beating Samantha Stosur. But I slept soundly. And who knows what other gems will fly imperishable.

I would come to contempt.