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What good is the most beautiful weapon if it is not loaded?
Oh, an update. Well, it's a date. First of all: it means (in the third person singular: needs. Don't "need" me. You're driving me crazy.)
To the general matter (Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Akzent is Arial). When the temperature in the Republic is around 45° in the shade, I have to wear malicious, heavy and third-ugly scents from my collection (in public). What's the matter with you? Sadism perhaps, no, fun - definitely sadism. I love it when people rattle in the train (if I ride along, that's all I get out of it - esoterics, you're asked), and not because one of the most frequented tracks in Berlin is the fact of not opening a window for fear that grandma croaks from the sixth row from the left: "to make, I've got gout!". Strictly speaking, I wish I had the scent for longer than 2 years, because the public deserves to be throttled preventively.
Metal Hurlant is an answer to people who even early in the morning are not able to spend cent sums on a deodorant BEFORE they can spare 5 minutes of their precious time to shower - Kouros and Duro are rather stimulating, that's why I avoid these testosterone prods in public. Horror. As far as I know, most households are supplied with hot water (not standing statically in front of it like a raw lasagna plate, please).
The fat man, who bent my seat grip beyond recognition when he wanted to reach his own, and is in a pair of tight cycling pants stuck in inverted pyramids, is supposed to suffer just as much as the philosophy student in her 20th semester, who looks cheekily at other passengers' displays. Oh well, we don't want to forget (use names), that her obö (is the oboe called? Goethe isn't called Göthe o_O either) is cramped and hopes not to have to interrupt the music lessons because of a disturbance of the otherwise so meticulous Berlin S-Bahn traffic.
Meanwhile I feel incredibly well to smell of nail polish remover and brush cleaner, oil change, bicycle chain and gasoline, hoping (present active - shit participle.) - although I have no expectation after the long experience - the rows may lighten up. A course to be hoped for (finally, Gerundivum - so secretly my favourite in Latin lessons, and fortunately the Bachelorette is running tonight) would be to live my existence in a Hellraiser (Pinhead!)-like aura in the train. Let them be tormented as I am by their forearm forearm ignorance. Also applies to the gym. Not that I had any visions of getting a hose.
To the fragrance: depilates the conditions west and east. From the carrier. Unless you love the smell of: ATU. Motor oil, which has a small leak in every fourth bottle, Sonax, Nigrin (I can't help it if that's what it's called), the tank, where the greasy tank hoses are the reference and not the minced rolls, entering a garage in winter, stone floor, collar of a leather jacket...musk in the blazing sun while refueling, that's Metal Hurlant. Whereby, this "calculation" doesn't always work out, there are few, who find exactly THAT great (except me, among misantropes at best the equally adjusted partner, you just have to look at it in context, situatively it rarely becomes clear). If you find them, hold them until the eyeballs bleed
To the general matter (Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Akzent is Arial). When the temperature in the Republic is around 45° in the shade, I have to wear malicious, heavy and third-ugly scents from my collection (in public). What's the matter with you? Sadism perhaps, no, fun - definitely sadism. I love it when people rattle in the train (if I ride along, that's all I get out of it - esoterics, you're asked), and not because one of the most frequented tracks in Berlin is the fact of not opening a window for fear that grandma croaks from the sixth row from the left: "to make, I've got gout!". Strictly speaking, I wish I had the scent for longer than 2 years, because the public deserves to be throttled preventively.
Metal Hurlant is an answer to people who even early in the morning are not able to spend cent sums on a deodorant BEFORE they can spare 5 minutes of their precious time to shower - Kouros and Duro are rather stimulating, that's why I avoid these testosterone prods in public. Horror. As far as I know, most households are supplied with hot water (not standing statically in front of it like a raw lasagna plate, please).
The fat man, who bent my seat grip beyond recognition when he wanted to reach his own, and is in a pair of tight cycling pants stuck in inverted pyramids, is supposed to suffer just as much as the philosophy student in her 20th semester, who looks cheekily at other passengers' displays. Oh well, we don't want to forget (use names), that her obö (is the oboe called? Goethe isn't called Göthe o_O either) is cramped and hopes not to have to interrupt the music lessons because of a disturbance of the otherwise so meticulous Berlin S-Bahn traffic.
Meanwhile I feel incredibly well to smell of nail polish remover and brush cleaner, oil change, bicycle chain and gasoline, hoping (present active - shit participle.) - although I have no expectation after the long experience - the rows may lighten up. A course to be hoped for (finally, Gerundivum - so secretly my favourite in Latin lessons, and fortunately the Bachelorette is running tonight) would be to live my existence in a Hellraiser (Pinhead!)-like aura in the train. Let them be tormented as I am by their forearm forearm ignorance. Also applies to the gym. Not that I had any visions of getting a hose.
To the fragrance: depilates the conditions west and east. From the carrier. Unless you love the smell of: ATU. Motor oil, which has a small leak in every fourth bottle, Sonax, Nigrin (I can't help it if that's what it's called), the tank, where the greasy tank hoses are the reference and not the minced rolls, entering a garage in winter, stone floor, collar of a leather jacket...musk in the blazing sun while refueling, that's Metal Hurlant. Whereby, this "calculation" doesn't always work out, there are few, who find exactly THAT great (except me, among misantropes at best the equally adjusted partner, you just have to look at it in context, situatively it rarely becomes clear). If you find them, hold them until the eyeballs bleed
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