I wanted this summer to France. It was planned that way, yes, yes.
For it is still the screenplay for the Oscar suspects Box-office hit at my house. We wanted the same in France briefly turn times in a week. (This is only because my dear friend with whom I traveled the country by Mr. Miagi, and I act, acting on the highest level, and each scene is played only once and the thing is in the box) But
Then everything changed. Any large company came up with the idiotic idea to offer my friend a job as an account manager, and because it sounds good and my friend just keep doing nothing better, had he accepted the position. Of course, at the expense of our blockbuster. Great. Thank you also Mr. Ichbinjasooooobusyundarbeiteinzüüüüüriiii. And I had me thought about what I wear on Oscar night would be and what little sentence I could smile at the camera. This is important because if one does not really happen to a well prepared, the worst things. It could happen, for example, that my jumping in a disaster caused by reckless exuberance of movement, a breast of the dress.
I would have to lay staring into the camera and "huuuuch" said hastily put the apple back into the basket and play the little slip with artificial Losprusten. And let the Oscar goes to ...... but this is
I'm happy as mentally so flexible that I make other arrangements and throw myself on new things can. Thus it was that yesterday I had the inspiration to drive over the weekend after Berlusconi and I have two days the sun burn on his stomach, that would be. And we are doing now. So my friend Mr. Ichschmeissdenfilm and me. (To my homophilic reader: 'friend' in the classical sense is not to hold hands and Schweinkram) is
out France, Italy in it!
This has something nostalgic. I do not know anyone who did not go at least once with his parents in
overloaded car to the south. The grandest is the whole holiday ever since, papperlapapp beach, sun, and so on that trip.
Specifically, the short stops where the anxious fathers still control more quickly the tire pressure, oil level, radiator coolant and brake disc condition. While the mothers dig their eatables brought forth and want to distribute the greasy sandwiches, when there AUTOGRILL in the most delicious things there.
surrounds general, Italy's motorway service areas a very special aura. As people meet different objectives.
at once is because the entrepreneur Wolfgang Ludwig in Frankfurt, has left a few seconds before his air-conditioned 7-Series, next to the fish vendor Giuseppe from Trieste, who climbed for two hours from his Piaggio vans, on Gruppenpissoir. The uncouth nouveau-riche gets rid of noise in his troublesome winds and Giuseppe laughs.
So what is the name of international understanding, cultural bridge, or as we would say in Hip-Town, a get-together of nations. As could cut a piece of UNESCO and the likes. But unfortunately they can not - it does not lead ÖVM into the service area.
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