Ero in garage a gonfiare il pallone da basket, perchè oggi pomeriggio ho calcetto e mentre si scala per fare posto ad altri, stare fermi non è salutare e quindi si fanno due tiri a basket.

Poi l'ho vista. Era li timida che usciva appena da sotto l'armadio.
Arancione e Blu.
CCM Externo.


Ho lasciato cadere il pallone, mi sono avvicinato e l'ho tirata fuori con cura e spolverata con solennità come si confà ai migliori film di Indiana Jones quando recupera un manufatto.
L'ho aperta e li ho visti.
Indossati con un dolore tremendo perchè mi ero dimenticato di lasciarli allacciati l'ultima volta... 1 anno fa quasi.

Eccoli.



Poi ho rispolverato anche la tenera Easton ... e i pantaloni sponsorizzati dall'Abbey (sì. se cercate nelle foto dell'Abbey e in particolare in quella con la squadra da hockey, ci sono anche io)




Nostalgia tremenda...vorrei ricomnciare e magari questa estate vado a fare due partite al campetto. Mi va anche il paradentiiiiii!!!!
Ricordo ancora la macchina che avevamo fatto al ritorno da Ortisei: piena di roba fino a scoppiare e io avevo speso più di un milione di lire, ovvero metà dello stipendio estivo, per prendere la roba. I pattini che belli! Li scegli e poi li mettono in una specie di forno che li scalda. Poi te li metti ai piedi (scalzo o al max con calzini sottili) e li allacci e li tieni li per 10 min a prendere la forma. Aaah, il milione meglio speso della mia vita...

Etichette: nostalgia botte sangue bestemmie a palate ma almeno c'è Phoebus e gli altri

Fatevi due risate vah, leggete sta cosa che ho trovato in Internet! La gente non sta bene...


I originally wrote this story as a reply in one of those "funny drinking stories" threads a couple of months ago. It is a very embarrassing story about me when I was a stupid teenager, not that much different from a lot of people's drinking stories, but with a twist of lemon. Lots of people seemed to like it, so I thought I would illustrate and narrate the story in its own thread for maximum hilarity.



This all happened when I was 18 years old. I had dropped out of highschool twice by this point, ditched a lot of my friends because I was a selfish idiot and generally didn't give a gently caress about anything. I hardly ever ate anything and was skinny as gently caress, showered maybe once every three days, took a poo poo load of drugs and smoked like a chimney. I didn't have any prospects for the future. I just followed every impulse I had. I stole hundreds of dollars of stuff from the gas station I worked at. I stole poo poo from my parents. I shop lifted. I'm sure lots of people have been through a phase like this and I feel very sorry for all of you.



Basically, I was a creepy, disgusting and smelly gently caress that almost no one would ever let their daughter be friends with. Upon getting to know me, you would probably never want to see me again.







However, there was one exception to this rule. My ex-girlfriend who I had broken up with about 4 years earlier was my only (and best) friend. It seemed like no matter how strange, hosed up, depressed or disgusting I ever became, she loved me for who I was. Yes, it was one of those "You are the best guy in the universe but I'm not dating you" type moments where we were best friends and single, yet nothing seemed to happen. For simplicity's sake, we'll call her Alice. She was a bit shorter than me, had huge tits, amazing red hair, a great figure and was just wonderful. And I loved her and always wanted to be with her.







Now, the trouble was that I hardly ever saw or talked to Alice, because I was a sociopathic nut case. I hadn't seen her for about three months, until one day, I get a call from her. She told me how she was sad we hadn't seen eachother for a long time and that I should come to an 18th birthday party with her. One of her friends who I didn't know was the birthday girl.



Now, 18th birthday parties mean booze, so I had no reason not to go.







On the other hand, I was trying to clean myself up at this point, so I thought it would be a good opportunity to show Alice how organized and motivated I had become (actually I hadn't changed at all). Even though she loved me (so she said), I always thought the reason that we weren't together was because I was smelly and gross. I decided that at this party, I would straighten my act up, look clean and act as charismatic and sociable as I could, and hopefully impress her friends as well.















So really, all I actually did was shower, shave, do my hair up and wear some nice clothes. BUT no one would see the truth about me, that truth being that i was a creepy piece of poo poo. At least I wasn't wearing some pants stained with mustard and semen or a singlet with cigarette burn holes in it.



So anyway, I showed up at Alice's house about 3 hours before we had to go to the party and she is all "Ooh how I've missed you," and "Wow you look really good tonight!" I was feeling optimistic at this point. Hopefully tonight would be the night when my boyish charms would finally get through to her and we could gently caress like rabbits.







So, we are hanging around Alice's house for the next couple of hours when her mom shows up. Now, Alice's mom is simply awesome. She liked to cook awesome food, tell us funny stories, but most of all, she liked to drink. So she comes storming in in this great mood telling us how great we look together and that we should have some alcohol. She brings out two bottles of wine.







So we started drinking.



We talked about a lot of funny poo poo and laughed a lot. Between the three of us, we drank four bottles of wine. This was a great start to the evening.







Eventually, the time came around where we had to go to the party. So off we went.



We were a bit more than tipsy by the time we got to the party. When we got there, I realized that there was not a single man there. I was the only one. Most of the girls there were quite attractive, contrary to my drawing abilities. What do you call the opposite of a sausage festival? I don't know, but this was one of those. And I had a sausage.



If I didn't end up getting the chance to bed Alice after tonight, then I could move on to the twenty or so other girls that were there.







So anyway, I was at a party with my best friend, lots of hot teenage girls and plenty of alcohol. It was drinking time.



LOTS OF VODKA







LOTS OF ABSINTHE







Oh poo poo, now I was really drunk.







I was having a really good time at this point. I was chatting a lot to the girls, feeling super confident and was well pissed.



Now, this is when the poo poo started to hit the fan. I'm sure a lot of you now are thinking, "I go out drinking with hot babes all the time? What's so interesting about all this?" or "I DRINK 8 GALLONS OF ABSINTHE A DAY!" Just be patient.



A girl shows up late to the party. She looks like some kind of a hippie, with pretty loose clothes and some armpits hairs. After greeting everyone and exchanging some chit chat, she sits down in a chair and starts rolling a joint.







I have a bit of a history with marijuana and other illicit substances. Most of the people I've seen that smoke weed seem to chill out and have a good time. Although occasionally when I smoked it that would happen, half the time I would become extremely anxious and start freaking out inside of my own head. I'm one of those guys that has problems with marijuana. Yet, despite this, I continued to smoke it whenever I got the chance. As pissed as I was at that point in time, I figured that I would be ok if had some.



Now, lots of you crackheads out there will know that smoking marijuana after getting drunk is a bad idea. You are right. But that wasn't the real issue here. The real issue was that I was host to several mental problems at this point of time in my life, most notably a profound anxiety which was the cause (or consequence) of a lot of my life problems. Smoking weed didn't help out in this department. In fact, it really hosed my head up a lot.



Actually, being drunk was a bit of an issue too. Uh oh!



I asked her if I could have some and she said yes.







After I'd finished smoking, I sat down into my chair and relaxed for about five minutes. I didn't seem to notice anything going on at this point in time. I'm sure people were chatting and having a great time, but I was totally lost within my own head. Yup, I was getting stoned. And I'm drunk. This is bad.



About ten minutes after I had smoked my joint, I started to feel the drunk/stoned sickness mixture starting to come on. Everything in my field of vision started swirling, and everything i saw looked like it had colored sparks flying out of them. I felt that something was really wrong, and this is the point where I started to freak out. I looked at my hand at the sparks were coming out. I felt like if I didn't do something immediately, then I was going to die.







I desperately pulled myself up out of my chair and stumbled my way across the room. I knocked over a chair as I tried to move past it. I ran outside and started pacing back and forth, not being able to shift my conscious thought away from something very bad happening. I felt like I was going to fall to the ground and be absorbed into it as my body melted. I was very, very afraid.







I felt like an idiot for smoking that joint. Oh how I wish I wish I wish I didn't smoke that joint. That was very bad.



Eventually I got to a point where I knew that I was going to throw up eventually, so I tried to make my way to the bathroom. I found it with great difficulty, flung open the door and ran towards the toilet, getting a firm grip around it in preparation for the vomit.







I sat there for one minute... then two... then five minutes. Nothing happened. There was something amazingly comfortable about sitting there with my hands on that filthy toilet seat, and my chin hanging over the edge of it into the bowl. I sat there for quite a while and all of my fears and anxiety started to disappear into nothingness. All I wanted to do was sit there with my head in that toilet bowl.







Now, being extremely anxious, drunk and stoned at the same time is pretty difficult to describe. After sitting there trying to avoid the outside world for a long time by keeping my head inside the toilet bowl, I was starting to feel like I needed to take a poo poo. So I slowly took my head out of the toilet bowl, pulled my pants down and sat down on the seat. It felt like there was a football up my rear end, and I tried to squeeze it out, but I was feeling way to weird from all of the drunkeness and stonedness to be able to squeeze it out. I sat there for a while, staring at my crotch and tripping out. None of this was at all pleasant.







I apologize if the story frightens you after this point.



While sitting there in that toilet seat and my brain failing to rationally think properly, I remembered that one of my favorite things to do while stoned was to masturbate. Masturbating stoned (and I'm sure doing any sort of sexual activity stoned) just feels totally amazing. It was something I made a point of doing every time I smoked some weed. As creepy as it sounds, at every party I've ever been to and gotten stoned, I've gone to the toilet to have a wank. If I was discrete about it, no one would ever know. Seeing as I was already in the toilet, I decided that I'd have a tug while I was there.







As I was sitting there tugging away and drooling, I started to feel the stoned/drunk sickness coming on again. It must have had something to do with putting all the effort into vigorously jerking off while I was barely able to stay balanced on the toilet seat. Everything started to spin again. Yet, at the same time, I was having the best jerk in the universe and nothing was going to stop me.



So there I was on that toilet seat, drunk, stoned, feeling like I was going to vomit, with a huge poo poo up my rear end and jerking off.



I came. And vomitted. At the same time. All over my crotch.







On top of feeling very strange by all of the chemicals in my brain, the resulting sensations of ejaculating while vomitting sent a shockwave through my body which cause me to spasm with such intensity that I pushed myself off of the toilet seat. As I was doing this, my bowels let loose and the stickiest, thickest poo poo I have ever had in my rectum forced it's way out like in a long segment of Play-Doh coming out of the the cookie cutter mold. Combined with my launch from the toilet seat, the poo poo smeared itself all over the seat and on my bare rear end.







To conclude this ultimate act of humilation, I fell to the tiled bathroom floor drunk, stoned, drooling, unconscious, covered in my own poo poo and vomit, with visible dribblets of semen on the bathroom floor and on my crotch and penis mixed with vomit. At an all girl party.







And that concludes the story of the single most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.



Actually, I'm just kidding. It gets worse.



I didn't close the door.



It was open the entire time.



By the time I was finished covering myself in filth, every girl at the party was either watching through the door, or screaming in horror in the next room about how horrible this was.



Apparently, some of the girls were yelling at me while I was busy, but I was too intoxicated to notice. I shiver to think what they were yelling at me that entire time.



To say that everyone's evening was ruined is an understatement.



Depending on how you look at it, I should either be feeling or about this whole fiasco.



In the meantime,

Etichette: io speriamo che me la cavo o che almeno non mi vomiti addosso a me mi non si puo' di are ere are l'acca va a cagare

Orientamento: Estroverso
Funzione dominante: Sensazione
Funzione d'appoggio: Sentimento
Funzione terza: Pensiero
Funzione inferiore: Intuizione
Tendenza: Percettiva

Il tipo estroverso sensazione ha una eccellente capacità di osservare tutto quello che lo circonda. Sa osservare i fatti ed è molto abile nel percepire i bisogni delle persone. È amichevole, cordiale e caloroso. Conosce generalmente molte persone. E' sensibile ai sentimenti degli altri, li capisce facilmente. Ama la compagnia della gente ed è genuinamente interessato alle loro vicende. Ha generalmente una vita sociale intensa. Gli piace divertirsi, ridere e chiacchierare. Gli piace anche essere al centro dell'attenzione. È infatti un bravissimo presentatore e un intrattenitore nato. È un attore naturale. Questa sua simpatia spontanea nei confronti degli altri è ampiamente ricambiata. Tutte queste qualità lo rendono popolare tra i suoi amici e conoscenti. È un ottimista che ama la vita. È attento alla sua apparenza alla quale può dedicare parecchia energia. A un livello più alto, questa caratteristica può renderlo sensibile all'arte e capace di possedere un ottimo giudizio artistico. È una persona concreta, con i piedi per terra. Dato che la sua funzione inferiore è l'intuizione, tende a non valutare a sufficienza le implicazioni future delle sue azioni. Non è un amante dell'agenda! Generalmente apprezza le tradizioni e invecchiando tende a sviluppare delle posizioni conservatrice pur rimanendo in qualche modo giovanile. A volte può essere piuttosto disorganizzato. Non è infrequente che questo tipo sia in ritardo e che faccia fatica a concentrarsi su un solo progetto alla volta (gli piace infatti fare tante cose allo stesso tempo). Può sottovalutare la necessità di analizzare le situazioni andando incontro ad una certa confusione quando deve prendere una decisione. Sul piano lavorativo, i suoi punti di forza sono il pragmatismo, la capacità di gestire e ricordare un gran numero di dati, la sua buona relazione con le "cose", i prodotti concreti. Il suo punto debole risiede forse nell'essere poco interessato o attento alle novità, all'aspetto teorico e analitico dei problemi e a una certa disorganizzazione o mancanza di disciplina. Nelle relazioni di lavoro è molto abile. Sa capire le persone, sa comunicare con loro, sa infondere entusiasmo, è tollerante, distensivo e popolare.


Io mi ci ritrovo...voi?

Etichette: le balene restino sedute bambini ragni e altri predatori titoli dei libri dolce amore bacio cono da 1.5€

Sapete cosa c'è di più pericoloso di guidare contromano, con la nebbia, a fari spenti, zigzagando, in autostrada? Scrivere un post off-line utilizzando un PowerBook12" su un treno italiano.
Sto tornando da un periodo di 12 giorni trascorso in quella ridente cittadina di Bruxelles. Sì, dai, quella con la statua dell'atomo di Turbonio™ e del cioccolato. Sono stati giorni magnifici in cui ho imparato tante cose e conosciuto tanti aspetti della bellissima persona quale è Perla Splendente e rendermi conto di quanto mi sia indispensabile (dooi,mi manchiiiiiiiii).
Ho vissuto in una casa troppo kawaii(senza Photoshop®) con persone simpatiche che mi piacerebbe rivedere. Ho imparato ad amare il francese, lingua che ho sempre odiato a causa della mia z** troia (ups, forse dovevo asteriscare "troia" non "zia"...), anche se il posto d'onore nel mio cuore lo avrà sempre l'inglese. Non so dire praticamente nulla in furansugo, se non "me ne batto le palle", "me ne fotto" (che se sei un venditore di Goffres può significare anche "è colpa mia"),"sì"(no non lo so),"1,2,3", "Grazie", "Permesso", "Capello", "Piccola/o" e altro. Poco ma altro.
Ho imparato che di Spagnoli ne è pieno il mondo e la Lega Nord in Belgio mi avrebbe come sostenitore, e che gli italiani li riconosci sempre perchè stanno sempre in cerchio come le zebre, vestiti di duccio gusto (teenager, eh!) e almeno 2 hanno occhiali da sole smodati, usati come cerchietto.
Ho imparato che mangiare come delle troie è bello se lo si fa in due.
Ho imparato che i dolci vanno chiesti con la frutta al max, non la variante panna fresca e noci, ad esempio...
Ho imparato che la Buitoni scrive "4 persone" sui tortellini ripieni al prosciutto ma se le mangi in due, fatte con panna e prosciutto, riempiono "il giusto".
Ho imparato che il Ciauscolo non è un dolce con ribes come mi è apparso in sogno, ma un salume divino.
Ho imparato che Bruxelles è una città adorabile e voglio comprarmi una casetta che da sui laghetti.



Ero partito con l'idea di scrivere un bel post, ma mi rendo conto ora che sarebbe chilometrico... maggiori dettagli a voce.
...e poi la signora nell'alto sedile guarda con sguardo languido la mela che si illumina e si umetta con voluttà la lingua. Ho paura!

Etichette: Madonna dello Schifo Dooi Non è chiusa a chiove se se pisti pistiiiii cuuuuciolo Phoebus amore bello

Scrivo per dirvi che sono vivo. Vivo più che mai.
Non sono in Italia, ma tornero' presto, il 13.
Sono con una persona stupenda che ho conosciuto grazie ad altre stupende persone che mi fanno passare sempre stupendi momenti.
Mi gusto questi giorni appieno e poi torno da voi, ma con lei nel cuore.
Abbracciati.

Etichette: Phoebus