Diagram Connect To Wifi

brief

Today I discovered two things: patience and parking (indoor and outdoor) Place Laurier. I understand why they say the "magic" of the holiday season: the proliferation of cars and the disappearance of free parking spaces! Wow! I also learned the meaning of "waiver" and "resignation". A beautiful day, full of learning, but poor in shopping ...

***

Here's what I read in The Sun yesterday morning

He killed a pigeon with a soccer ball

"Buenos Aires - A soccer player has accidentally killed a pigeon during a league match in Argentina in releasing the ball with a powerful shot that fatally struck the bird . The ball shot at a group of pigeons looking for seeds on the lawn caused the hasty flight of birds, but one of them stayed on the floor. The author of the kick, the defender San Lorenzo Gaston Aguirre, 27, was sorry. "

My question is: what a journalist, even lack of excitement, can he say "Hey, I can not seem to this is hilarious-in various editing tomorrow. "?

***

Maybe" is my fir Christmas flowering, "but also" my geranium decays, c ' Winter is the lack of light ".... helping (it seems that's the case), said plant began to throw the leaves in all directions. My room (small) being overrun by green clown, I cut it all with incredible skill and precision any non-gardener. We cry to the massacre. Geranium did not like. Now he is dying slowly. Does anyone have a less humiliating than giving the poor bruised cabbage someone talented (read: the stepmother)?

***

I wish you all (men used to simplify the text, as they say in press releases important not to upset feminists) a very happy holiday, fun Family, gifts galore and calories by weight to grandma! Merry Christmas!

High Definition Pinky Booty

one month off? " Family party

Believe it or not (I still can not believe it) is the end of the session! Not in the sense of "rush", no! In the sense: it's over! "

Ye

I gave, at 15:30 this afternoon, my last job long. I do not want anything to do with Réjean Ducharme in my life. Tell me mucha could. Fini.

short: ye souis in cony!

's all, nothing to add except my most sincere wishes of good luck to all those whom the University has not yet released.

Description Of Fashion Show Invitation

This was originally to be a reunion: cousins, cousins, uncles, aunts, grandma, all gathered in a charming inn Charlevoix to celebrate the birthday of the youngest uncles of Tom, who does not care, his family. But it's a nice opportunity to couple: Two nights romantic getaway between river and mountains for almost nothing. We are pleased, especially after confirmation, we learn that we were assigned to the 3rd floor, a skylight in a room called "the knot of love". We are blissful.

This would be starting a family gathering, but the wife of celebrated decided, without telling anyone, she invited the great band of friends her husband - including François Pérusse and Pierre and Sylvie, the ex-leaders Fire Beast not stupid + for the anecdote. The uncle, incidentally one of the owners of the inn where we stayed, had fortunately reserved throughout the building for the party. But a reorganization of rooms required.

(It should be noted first thing before continuing: Tom happiness and / or misfortune [according to the aspects considered] to always live with her parents. With whom he has a cold and distant relationship their overprotective towards him since his childhood having made Boutte, as they say. In short: it often tries to spend as little time possible in their company.)

This should be a reunion, this was no longer, we should have the "knot of love", no longer had it. It was now the "bridal bouquet". Romantic? No, this room knows why, is linked to "butterfly" in the most intimate way that is, namely the bathroom. And "Butterfly" was the new room assigned to Tom's parents. Them, a small bathroom, we.

Given this new data, we thought: will we go or not? If you pay, we still want it we please! We think about it, and they say OK, it's not the end of the world share a bathroom.

Yeah.

The timing was bad: end of session rush of work and exams. It is said never mind, we bring my laptop, and it will work in our room, even posing as asocial.

Yeah.

We arrived on the scene after more than an hour's journey into the mist the most complete, high in the mountains. In the Petite-Riviere-St-François, one can not see the river from the sky. We parked at the same time that the couple of (fire) Beast + Beast not including the gentleman turns out to be a real party animal (no pun intended pocket). It was snowing, everything is interference, the mountain is superb.

But here we find the room. It's almost funny. Tiny, like ... the smallest of all (we know, we visited all those who were still unoccupied). A bed, a cupboard, a chair. That's it. Work there? Be two to work there? Impossible. But we discovered a small room in the neighborhood: we steal a chair, two small tables, a trash can, a lamp and a box of Kleenex. With that, Tom installs a clean workspace. I decided that the show will be my office: the view is magnificent!

Until then, it was fine. But where things get complicated is that when locked up in our neighborhoods for the evening, we really understand the horror of "shared bathroom". There's room. A door leads to the bathroom, where a second door opens into our bedroom. Do this: 1-

sure to lock both when there is, history does not end up ass in the air before the in-laws.

2-be sure not to make too much noise by his needs because the walls are not soundproof (if any) and it's embarrassing. 3-

discuss too much with everyone for not stepping on the foot at the time of the shower.

Despite discussions and precautions, means everything, lock the doors cause the problem, and it is woken up by a stepfather in the shower at 7:30 in the morning.

The first night we were dying of laughter, Tom and me, it was so ridiculous. "When you're on vacation, I try to avoid my parents as possible and then, I'm even closer of them than us!" Enervated my boyfriend. You could hear the washing of our fellow bathroom as if you were there and the sound of the door always locked and unlocked each time we did think that someone would enter. Difficult in these circumstances to take a bath and unthinkable couple indulge in some carnal pleasures since sounds merrily through the two doors of the bathroom (you could hear a clear step-dad gently scraping the strings of his guitar 0:30 despite the bathroom between us). The romantic getaway originally planned, she has long forgotten that peace and chastity, or Malay insured.

Saturday, we managed to work. We went walking and taking pictures along the river, it was sunny and cool, it gave us the spirit up after the relatively poor night we had passed. From noon until dinner time, in my little private room, I worked on my laptop. Around 15:30, Uncle Tom enters the room: he was visiting "his" hostel to friends just arrived for the party. I was in the background, then presents them to me: Melanie Francis and Frederick. I salute them, make a little joke, looking at the father and son ("So Frederick (pointing to the large) and François (Pointing to the baby), or vice versa? "). I was told, then they leave, the couple is then guided to his room (across from ours). Two minutes later, Tom comes out and join me: "Well, it was like Pérusse neighbor across the street! It's funny! "And I just realized that Francis Pérusse bin had no idea damn face And he has! Be embarrassed not to have recognized, for not having done link ...

short.

Saturday evening, there were long time. Do we not feeling very concerned by the party in the basement (and being somewhat interested to find ourselves surrounded adults who are drunk with ben funny dancing square sets), we again used the argument of the concrete-end session to slip away from everyone. At 10am, we slept.

Sunday, starting (finally). Breathtaking scenery in the mountains. Back to the gloomy house examinations begin, there was no time for fooling around. Things are going badly wrong wrong .....!

Schematic 24v Battery Charger

literary magazine

I do a little survey to you, readers whose pen is wreaking havoc. Reader-bloggers, students, writers, here: with friends, for some time, we form a project to create a literary magazine to fill the gap in this field at the University. The project takes shape, more and more, and we're finally to the creation of the first issue - once funding applications accepted .... - Forthcoming, ideally at the end of the winter session of 2009, whose theme, still vague, could be translated as "pastiche, collage, borrowing, plagiarism, reuse, shape, movement records and updating semantic". In short: almost anything in this vein there.

I think especially with Dez, who likes to write, and Hani, literary Sherbrooke, asking: would you be interested in producing a text in the context of this review?

Warning: this is not a journal of creation, although some works of fiction can be integrated, as well as some contributions to "off-record." Also specify that the texts too overtly academic nature may be refused (not copy and paste an essay school - by cons, adaptation, reworked text can be accepted!). The theme, of course, must be quite literary, but it is open to several related fields (philosophy, cinema and arts, anthro ... provided the text has literary value).

short, I probe the views, because it is open to external contributions (we will not do everything alone!). Let me know if any involvement in this project might interest you!

Homemade Reddot Sight

One autumn day

It's true, it is time that something is happening here. That fact that I took my sister by the neck t-shirt, was not put gasoline in the car (but should), and we started an adventure just to get to blog content .

should do this more often, dammit!

What happened today is that the door stood open at the Montmorency Forest, some 70 km north of Quebec, the Laurentians. The weather could not offer us more beautiful day for a final ride in the forest before the cold weather, we jumped at the chance to go out full of fresh air.

Parties at 9:30 this morning with walking boots, rucksack and mixed nuts and dried fruit, we took the road under the sky bluer, the clouds no more, as full of sunshine possible. It was mild in Quebec just pretty cold there, it was perfect. The day started under the tutelage of a very nice guide (at left in photo, not to be confused with larch), in fact, really a cool guy, who explained the mission of the Montmorency Forest: offer, all together, a forest-friendly activities (skiing, hiking, snowshoeing ...), economically viable (1% of the forest is cleared each year for forestry), ecology (5 "stages" of forest - of young to mature - to match the needs of each group in the animal chain), etc.. It was so interesting, such a beautiful project deforestation Intelligent or all white (100% forest autonomous and self-sufficient), or all black (clear cutting, forest massacre). Did you know that moose prefer young forests, where are the young shoots they eat? Similarly, they need a little more mature forest (20 to 40 years) for shelter. Lynx prefer slightly older forests, and trees in the section between 40 and 60 are ideal for forestry. Finally, the very old forests, where trees are over 60 years, many protected areas, especially for the growth of lichen (who needs about 80 years to regenerate). Currently, about 8% of forests in Quebec at this stage, the ideal number would be 13%.

short: it was for the theory. We also talked about the beaver, spawning trout, and lots of interesting stuff, including wolves (the subject of study and choice of our guide, traveling with packs).

was then lousse been released into the forest, and we were able to walk freely in our trails around Lake Piché, what we did - starting, of course, by forgetting the guide instructions and lose some. Once back on the trail (well, what was taken as such, although Canada has noticed, in the end we were not really over, in short, just outside the track, as they say), we climbed to a fire tower where we had a superb view over the forest territory. Strangely, all day, the gel was on the ground, never the sun (though very warm, pleasant) has managed to melt. Winter is upon us ...

(nice photo of a sheet lined with frost)

course, it was wildly amused. It was a picnic atop the fire tower, frugal meal of whatever was lying around in our respective pantries, we said stupid things that made us laugh, we took pictures which we have also failed laugh, and it was fine, it was good, which made us smile upon successful pictures.

We have seen a small Swiss and a big wild cat (also known as raccoon, for the uninitiated), and an owl woodpecker, but none of the three has been immortalized on film success with digital.

What was fascinating in that forest was the foam. All ground was covered with a thick foam and plump, it seemed so comfortable, in addition to dampen any noise that made our feet! Beautiful, really. In addition, he uttered the beautiful flowers on green and pink carpet!

On next picture, there is a lack of photographic talent Jobe:
- "Well, she is much too bright, this picture, what did you do?!
- I dunno, but anyway, I really pictured your shadow, eh?

It was a beautiful, really beautiful day, a perfect autumn day in every way, and no less perfect company! I love you, Bibi!

Pokemon Heartgold English Freeze

Conversation

Tom: Bibi ... I have yet to insomnia last night, and the other before, and one from before ... I dunno why ... and I'm afraid of not sleeping again tonight ...

SoBe (muttering, asleep already): In the sheep ... zzzzz ... But you'll see ... zzz ... it is not easy. Either they go in all directions ... zzz ... or will not want to jump me when I try. (Bailey) Should be really focused. Concentrated ... you concentrate ... kind of one sheep ... focus now ... zzz ... trying to count sheep jumping fences one ... zzz ... then you fall asleep.

the morning.

SoBe: And did you count sheep?

Tom Mouip

SoBe: Not easy, eh, to discipline them?

Tom: Well you see, I had this problem too, but I solved it by having them jump in front of me like, say "vertically", as if I was behind them, to that they scroll horizontally, because that was where I lost and they were not listening.

SoBe: Not stupid! Try Tonight (like I need to count sheep to fall asleep ... the sight of a pillow for me is the same as the bite of a tsetse fly).

the evening.

SoBe: PfffHAHAHA!

Tom: Hey uh what?! I fell asleep, me!

SoBe: I tried your trick for the sheep ... hihi! I can not sleep, me, seeing my bum sheep jump behind the eyelids, ass after cock after cock!

Tom (Gromelle): Try the other way.

SoBe (after a commendable effort): This is not really better, Tom ... like that, they stare at me jumping and I feel they run towards me to get into it ... I can not sleep with your stupid thing.

Tom: zzzz ...

SoBe ... is malignant.

Restore Farmville Posts To Facebook Wall

Under the sun, the campus

Robin Hood and two Ninja Turtle wisely waiting bus. A hacker is housed in my basement. Dollarama is a shortage of lollipop colors of the rainbow, and everyone looks the famous 25 in the year when there were only very few made. On all sides, electrons, pigs, helmeted deities and cowgirls are reaching out to collect pennies, selling content to every wind of a lunch box filled dearly (ham bought at 7:49 precisely, yellow tomato, suckers mentioned above ...) or rules of grammar ( for 5o cents, you recite it for a dollar you sing it, and for two dollars, she was singing, dancing and you recite the word of your choice at the time of your choice). Eggshells and spots of ketchup and mustard litter the ground, the campus fragrant sausage, hot dogs, and beer companies engaged without release in case of 24 case of 24. The sun shines in all its glory, he who hid all summer is finally revealed to celebrate the fall. Oh yeah! University is at it again!

It starts softly, with over-halves, nothing serious yet, but we feel that the rush is already not very far. However, the last of our worries because it is so beautiful, and then we find the friends! This is an opportunity to celebrate as if we ever do would celebrate, drink like a fish before it is too late and you feel guilty for not being studying, and it time to relax on the many green spaces on campus, enjoying the late summer that does no desire to be trapped in a classroom on-conditioned. What a beautiful moment that first week!

the agenda this session, a course on language as a material expression (writing workshops on the art of using the right words to convey the right message), the Quebec novel (course on at work by Réjean Ducharme, given by the widow of Gaston Miron, one is the best in Quebec!), a course on short stories and another on French journalism in the nineteenth century (from 1830 to the 1st World War everything that led to modern journalism, and journalistic writings the great authors we do know that their novels generally [Zola, Balzac, Baudelaire ...]), and finally a course on various literary critics. A good program, I think!

that, I leave you, and wishes to those it does, an excellent session, and others, a good life, as usual!

Star Wars Pinewood Derby Templates

When you wish upon a star

Often this summer, I traveled by bicycle as much for classes, races that job. Sometimes required course, but usually by choice: the bike is nicer and faster than the bus, cheaper and more rewarding than self. It's green, and it will format my calves. With any luck, it also allows me to tan. But cycling is not always an easy task. Out of work and coming home on two wheels at rush hour, so it's convenient, you can double all the cars, but then they happily slaloms on one side and the other, even with a nice aerodynamic helmet screwed on full ventilation coconut, we know that the slightest relaxation of vigilance can be fatal. Must have eyes in the back of the head (or, failing that, good mirrors). And the bike is fun on flat ground, on bike lanes carefully managed for our pleasure, but in real life when you live in the uptown area and we work in the lower town, even when you take the rue de la Pente Douce to go back to the house, c ' is cotton with legs and the heart that wriggles like a frog with epilepsy that finally puts the bike in the garage at 16:30 ...

BUT!

But

. There are cycling at night. And then, the movement is no longer a problem. Here, the slopes are more unpleasant. There, the sun and heat are no longer overwhelming. At this time, when I returned from a working evening or night out in Old Quebec, the bike takes on significance. The road is mine. The wind whistling around me is mine. The sky and its tiny urban stars are mine. Cold is an ally, it stirs the blood and mobilizes all the will of my exhausted body. My ears are numb beat to the rhythm of my heart, I whiz, I do not know if you can imagine how the fuck I am!

And all this just to talk about the stars, because they are beautiful. Because in town, sometimes you notice them, like tonight, biking in the streets that the city budget to be deleted from the list of those requiring streetlights, when the dark can see a moment, the Big Dipper or Small (there I just bluffing, because I recognize only the Great). A tiny flicker, a shy glance. You get used to the limit can not see them anymore. The lights of the cities are more exhilarating for some.

BUT!

But

. There are the stars of the campaign. I would say that it happened to me twice already, this shock stellar. The first time I lived in Paris for a little over a month. Paris, tell me a city like that, so dazzling as the stars appear embarrassed to show themselves, ashamed of their Lilliputian purity. Neither views nor known, I think if I lived in Paris all my life, I had not known the meaning of the word "star". Still: this time, this fall, I went to Britain for those who remember, history live two nights in the forest Broceliande, "alone in a strange man who lives in a chack wood on the edge of the forest of Merlin "in the words of Edith (" you're crazy! "she added). There I had my yurt to me (and chat), and I found the campaign for the first time in ages (it seemed). Shortly before going to bed the first night, I'm out of my yurt and I remained frozen, speechless, spellbound, hypnotized, under the influence of the strong lightning strike in my career as a woman. The sky was filled with stars. The sky is always filled with stars, but planning makes us believe otherwise. The neon lights are our stars. It is brainwash. But then, I received an electric shock which revived me. And I stayed frozen for long minutes, head to the sky, fireflies in the eyes. It was beautiful, the boys, it was BEAUTIFUL! You must live it is not even describable, a black sky, no light passes through or does not UFO disorder, studded (the word) of all these constellations, as an amazing tapestry.

I said that this finding shock happened to me twice. The second is tonight, I just experienced the opposite effect: I suddenly realized the poverty of the sky of Quebec, while only a few super-powerful manage to attract the eye briefly . Tonight, I felt a strong nostalgia for the rustic heaven so fine that does not have enough time to enjoy, and which we can only dream, when they are away.

Edith spoke of Mars as bright as the moon. Naive or not, I say it's okay, the important thing is to take the time to look up and watch a bit, the stars.

Sample Wedding Gifts 2010

Under the Sun of Quebec

In truth, it was a great day.

Jobe and Mike, on his way to ExpoQuébec, learn that for the last day of festivities and in honor of the 400th anniversary of Quebec, admission is free. Jobe calls me and invites me to join with Tom. We decide to drop the planned shopping spree (anyway, such a beautiful day, who would waste time air conditioning too angry to her reflection cons unsatisfactory?) and file to join them. Surprisingly, when I thought we just walked around from booth to booth, among the sellers of hot dogs and cows winners of various beauty contests, we have instead experimented with non-common stuff ... and exciting (flat stomach in a tent in the army, machine gun in the shoulder, we tested our skill at shooting, and I am proud to say that I have the best eye !)... and funny (the firing of the gun which took place in a man-ball, soaring spectacular type to land in a net, some 30 meters below) ... and fascinating (the ability of a language variable to detect the percentage of sugar and the influence of salt on the taste) ... and Country ("I really prefer the Jerseys" "No, Brown Swiss are the best!" "Look at his spots as they are funny" She is shaved, that's why "" Oh, she has burned the horns Poor little !")... and childish (test drive of three Chevrolet demonstration with me, Jobe and Mike turns at the wheel of these marvels of technology and ecology) ... etc.. But it was not amusement rides. No one likes it, we get r'virer stomach panel. We preferred go make faces at the mirror flag of the language. We had ben more fun!

Milena Velba Red Forum

long message for a short trip

That you happen to be just right? That way, no reason to be happy? I do. Tonight I went for a bike ride in Old Qc, and I came back slowly, enjoying the cool night air, smiling people who crossed my path. I feel good .... tanananananana

I'm back, oh yeah! Projecting, two months ago, leaving the capital for a bicycle trip alone to the Prince Edward Island, I develop my bike, bought myself some shoesclaques (?) and a bag of water (height of the rider cool), and I left Sunday night ... with my mom, and knowing full well that good, the bike will come out maybe not so often that it's rack. No matter: I just returned from the best week of my holiday life. My mom, me, sea, sun, sea, and no plan. Improvisationnons therefore our happiness, one day at a time.

Day One: Departure. We taxied to be tired, or until you find a place to sleep.

We finally opted, at the entrance of New Brunswick, for a camping Irving ... station-service/truck-stop an owl, Free, with toilets. Mom, not a fan of camping, improvised a camper in his Honda Fit. Unbelivable but true: a comfortable queen bed was occupied throughout the trip, the rear of the car. Was elected camp in the parking lot with trucks coming and going. We slept well.

Day two: one hour later in the Maritimes. It crosses the province from west to east by an incredible road (108) in the mountains and forest. No sign of life on three hundred kilometers. Only warning of the presence of moose. We have not seen. For the night, our vested pounces on Kuchibouguac National Park: beautiful woodlands, a setting enchanting, 500 meters from the sea I pitch my tent "for two" (two children or lovers of 90 pounds each on their honeymoon) and Dad set up his bed.

It goes to the beach, and I tell myself that well, it's the holidays, I throw myself into the water.

61 degrees ...... risked pneumonia to me though ...

was cool, cold, freezing. Amazing. On returning, I learned to fish for mussels, and 15 minutes, I caught a naive and got cut on a smarter. Failure, but I will take my revenge, jury!

Night: woke with a start at 3am. Noises in the rocks and foliage around my tent ...... sounds of four-legged and sniff-sniff of not-human. Fixed style pogo in my sleeping, trying to think about potential food (besides me) in my tent and this may attract Bebits ("I never had to make my dark chocolate with cherry accented with chili ...!!" ) a single image haunts my brain, the sign at the entrance to the park where we are: "Welcome to the land of the black bear!". Mamaaaaannnnnn ........

After only one thought: "I do not want to die camping ...!"

next morning gutted one thing: the bag garbage which remained some spaghetti sauce. I'm alive.

Day Three: mosquitoes. Upon awakening, number of bites that bite: 20. Benadryl, we love you! En route to Bouctouche, Mom and I stopped by chance near a fishing port, and we discover, again by chance, the most beautiful sandy beach nearby. Its main asset: its désertitude. There is only you-lâd'su. The beach is ours !!!... and jellyfish. Nice. We ate like kings on this little piece of paradise, thanks to the marvelous stove butane my dad and bought a bottle of wine the night before.

In the evening, stop at Shediac, Lobster Wharf, where we got paid a feast fit for a ... marine mussels in garlic sauce, jumbo shrimp, seafood chowder, moules frites ... Total happiness, enough to want to drop everything to buy a fishing boat or marry a surly type with one leg who has one boat. And who knows how to cook, preferably, or who has a mother who knows and is ready to divulge its secrets. In short: yum.

But then, after it rained a little, and we wanted to cross the IPE that evening, so we arrived in Linkletter Provincial Park at night, and I did not want to pitch my tent, then Mom and I were the queen but patented by opening the doors as little as possible to avoid getting sucked by the vampire p'tits criss-bzz bzztaient around self, and it was hot and we were tired and stiff and stuffed, and it was boring, and we had bawled, and it was our only hassle of travel. Then the next day it was forgotten.

Day Four: not on the island-treasure. Upon awakening, a revival of competition for "the one that best defends against the sucking adults. I win, with 33 bites "only", while Mom has 24 on his right leg and arm left.

Around noon, we arrive at Jacques Cartier Provincial Park, where Christ would at the very beginning put the first foot, so finding it beautiful. We agree, because the first thing we said was, discovering our campsite asked overlooking the sea is "Heaven exists." Then suddenly, we are happy, but happy! Understand: we have our wooded us with a hole in the middle to the tent, auto and picnic table, it is isolated from the rest of the world, and our clearing a space between shrubs gives di- rec-ly on the beautiful red sand beach and the ocean. Paradise, j'vous said! I've been lazy, I read on the sand at sunset after a ride with mom at the magic hour when the light is so golden, and I fell asleep lulled by the waves. I slept well.

Day Five: The Rising Sun and cycling. Our corner of paradise on the sea to the east. On uncontrollable romance, I decided I need to see the sun rise over the ocean. "Mom, what time he rises, the sun?" I asked the previous day. "Well ... at 4:30, 4:45 ..." So me, at 4:35, I'm sitting in the buttocks the cold sand, wrapped in two sweaters, a coat and a scarf, waiting to howl the ball. Anyway, I can say I've seen all the shades of dawn from black to blue through purple, yellow, green and orange. I had plenty of time to admire everything, because the sun, it appeared on the horizon at 5:53, approximately. I stayed on the beach until 6:05, when it became too blinding to look. What a beauty, this sunrise! But the least we can say is that he is poor, the annoying ...

At 9:30, Mom and I hopped on our bikes for a ride of thirty miles to North Cape, temperature perfect, superb ride. The return was more painful for my mom butt cozy by cons. At about 10 km from the park, she admitted defeat and had to sprint to the car to take taxis. Good. M'enfin: good effort, and great performance anyway!

Day Six: After rain or shine. Wake sullen, we pack up, we leave the little corner of paradise. It is said that since the weather is lousy, we're going to shop in Charlottetown. But once there, the sun comes, this vile tempter! It therefore incorporates the road at full speed (still lost after two hours of good weather in shops too touristy), we find ourselves in a national park in central North Island. Eager to drown my bad mood in the waves, I rush into the ocean, soon arrived, 45 minutes for a style "wave pool". Happiness! I have never been so good in the water, and never have I hated all the bikinis that are not done to hide anything in context of "jumping in the waves." I also hated the man who made me realize my sudden breast exposure (!) A look given particular .....

Day Seven: Kayak / we are in the woods. We struck camp early (6:15) to return to NB, Hopewell Rocks, Bay of Fundy's highest tides in the world (42 feet)! The water is rising at a breakneck speed! Mom and I decide to pay us a tour kayaking in the surreal landscape of rocks "flower pot"

(if someone could explain the significance of this comparison ...). Superb two-hour stroll where we paddled in caves and among the cliffs, then in big waves splashing. Cool!

In leaving, we head to Cape Enrage (as the song Zachary Richard), the tip of the end of the world. Insulation in a total genius: Following the modernization of the lighthouse keeper was no longer necessary since the site has fallen into disrepair. In 1992, six students decided to restore it, despite the ban the government who wanted her disappearance.

Six, they are now 21 high school and University Students, who maintain the site and make it an incredible site to discover, only the restaurant manager, shop facilities ... The view is outstanding, young people are too nice (Tumbes up the cute server contagious enthusiasm), and as a summer job, it's amazing: they stay together in this isolated area of the world, enlivening their free time kayaking, rappelling or fall "free" suspended from a pulley, cycling, walking, swimming ... wow.

In the evening we went to St. John's, sleeping in mom's cousin.

Day Eight: On the road again, sooner, and it runs through the NB to get Quebec to 18h. Back in the rain, fog and cold: it clearly demonstrates our sadness of seeing an end to these incredibly beautiful holiday.

- "MOM! Must do another trip like this every summer!

- Yeah but your dad will be jealous, he would like there ... it, too, travel ...

- Hum ... we have to tell him that it was a fiasco, and that we should resume next year! "

Yeah.

Oh! We crossed all NB, taking the roads the most and lost the most wetland to see one of those famous moose we warned the 452 signs on roads everywhere ... In the end, everything we have seen in NB, they are herds of moose ... quitos!

Flat Irons Sold At Jc Penney

Day in the Life

By early evening, we went out, relaxed, at the end of the Plains. We walked a little, perhaps 5 or 10 minutes to reach a promontory sparsely populated, which is overhung by a few feet of the "Plains" as such - the "Area A" as she was called on to explain the plans Logistics to manage the crowd - and it crashed very comfortable to stand Stills, impatiently tolerate Pascale Picard, Paul McCartney and finally cheer. Delirium. People who were cooling their heels in front of the gates of the Area A since the day before were released in waves, we were in front row to hear them scream and watch them run and undignified scramble any attempt to reach the best seat or foot stage. Imagine a continuous stream of hundreds of people running for 5 minutes, then break for 3-4 minutes, and another human wave, break even break even break ... Hallucinating. We were glad to be sitting comfortably on our buttocks, we, because in the bottom, it was said, would be the average of four persons per square meter ...

The evening was warm, the clouds slowly emerged that swept the sky projectors. An intense white light lit: McCartney arrives, we yelled. Cheers. False alarm. Take two, yelling. Re-false alarm. Third test: the delirium, McCartney on stage. "Hello whole gang!" (The newspapers have made their bread and butter of that famous phrase of greeting). The crowd goes wild, I get chills down to the toes.

Accuracy: I do not know the solo repertoire of McCartney. I am a Beatles fan, period. So I pointed at the Plains in the hope of hearing, perhaps, Hey Jude, Let It Be, Michelle, Yesterday ... "It's supposed to do 1 / 3 Beatles" I warned my boyfriend. I am therefore delighted when my car Drive begins, telling me that I enjoy everything we provide the directory of the Fab Four, but but but! It never stops! Michelle, Eleanor Rigby, Good Day Sunshine Penny Lane, Birthday, Give peace a chance, Let it Be, Hey Jude, Lady Madonna, Yesterday, Back in the USSR, Jojo ..... Happiness, I tell you. Wrapped in a blanket, lying in the Big Dipper, the stars and I had tears in her eyes.

And what about the time when the "peak" Live and Let Die, a ball of fireworks exploded in the sky! What about the roar of the crowd, completely mesmerized, delighted, ecstatic! And the huge cry from the heart of that crowd, singing with one voice the tribute to John Lennon's Give Peace a Chance! And the same voice, repeating the endless chant of "Hey Jude", to lose the vote, losing the head, heart ready to explode!

And what about the star of the evening, Paul McCartney to sixty years sounded well and contagious energy, magnetic charisma! This incredible stage animal we have kept in suspense for more than two hours, allowing the stroke of midnight to ring before we say "Come on, all in bed!".

"A historic moment," gargle senior leaders responsible for the arrival of McCartney on Quebec soil. Historic yes, but above all, magic, really. While Quebec has a head full of happiness today, and it is beautiful, what a beautiful gift for that "great lady of 400 years! Happy Birthday.

Itching After Gallbladder Operation

Anonymous

That's it, I have a secret admirer.

Monday, after work, I found a flower on the handlebars of my bike. Not a daisy or a dandelion picked in haste, no! Carefully wrapped a white carnation. Wikipedia emergency consultant (that means in the language of flowers, a white carnation?), I find myself divided ...

"In the language of flowers, the carnation is a symbol of love. The white carnation symbolizes passion faithful [But] in Southern Europe, the white carnation flower was long dead. It is used in Italy to make funeral wreaths. "

Considering that I do not" love faithfully "with any of morticians and embalmers others that I frequent at work (incidentally, the average of age of my fellow workers is around 57), and considering the fact where I work, I guess the second symbol of the white carnation is more appropriate.

Do I conclude that under air terribly trivial This Caryophyllaceae lies a subtle threat of death? Seduce better slay?

That's it, now I'm going to be wary of all these old chaps who claim that "perceiving is the best time of [their] day." Old crazy psychopaths. I'm gonna hang out pepper spray on my bike, stick to the words.

All Free Telugu Channel Frequency Numbers

Fragments without moral or conclusion

In what national holiday on June 24, I listened to a movie with my boyfriend, both our own beer in the basement. It has left people on the plains you get wet-only.

***

In what national holiday on 1 July (and I speak here of the Feast of the move, because the other BOAF), patriotism requires, I moved. Without boxes. Without trinkets wrapped in newsprint. Without garment. Without moving truck. Without even changing my set of keys. I moved my stock a good ... um ... 5 meters ... in the room opposite. Both doors open, I took my books from a library to go and sit in the library the other room. Ditto for my computer desk to another. Ditto for the teddy, bed to another. In short, you get the idea: a moving ideal, and relax, because the girl who will occupy my ex-room has not arrived yet, so I take my time and I have two rooms for the price of one.

***

In this holiday-slash-provincial city-slash-slash-national-world that is July 3, 2008 (400th anniversary of Quebec city ... you heard?) I worked at the hotel, and having thought long and hard the day before (car or bike? Bottling or rain?), I chose the lesser of two evils, and I have broken my floor for Bike go home at 11am. I take the path that is usually my own, in the pouring rain which I do not see anything, and I find myself trapped. On Grande-Allée, barriers across the street from the sidewalk separating and isolating pedestrian path that will soon take the parade. You see, it's always like this: path reserved for cars, road reserved for pedestrians, but cyclists, nada. Bibi and accidentally find themselves on the road reserved for cars (read: the parade). No way out of the road barriers everywhere. Hundreds of people behind the barriers, waiting for the parade. And me. On the road. Wringing wet. My grumbling coronations most colorful, smiling through my teeth to the public should find that, as a pre-parade, I was hard dirty. Oh joy, what a great humiliation. I have done more than 200 meters below 300 pairs of eyes before hitting a police charity that has passed my bike over the fence to me from shameful growing.

***

Today is the feast of nothing, but it is nice and I'm on leave. It's like a party, at the bottom ...

Enlarged Stomach In Fetus

like a virgin and other junk

"Once is enough." It is in this engaging title that took place, Thursday, a show wannabe drag queens and drag kings in grass at the cabaret dredge the gates of Old Quebec.

A gay bar, hey yeah. "But Quossai Sobeeee!, You say you knew you were trends (...) but lààààà! And then your Chom?!?" Do not worry. This is my lovely roommate, the beautiful S. (Anonymity, do not forget!) Who dragged me there. Reluctance, I went to anxious, nervous, anxious, died of laughing, then delighted. Wow! What a show my friends!

Along S., one of his colleagues (gay), a friend (lesbian) and his girlfriend, and a friend (hetero) with big tits looking for another potential hetero friendship (and maybe more), I admired the large swaying perruquées asparagus, sequins, ribbons, heel-raised, etc.. Under a storm of applause that are reached (s) Françoise Virgin (which has the name of a virgin, they say), Mathieu-I forget the name of sweet-scene ("It MA TOOOOOUNE !!!!", my roommate crying, overwhelmed) and a questionable remake of Celine (the look of Celine Dion's approach mom). In total, 5 and two drag queens drag kings (aka bouboule catfish). When it comes to colorful show, that's it. And it's funny! I loved it.

Side nightclub, for cons ... I do not tripe, particularly when the decibels m'explosent eardrums down her throat. So I cut short my swaying drunk roommate (and his intense cruises) to finish the evening with Flash Cafe (place too sweet-slash-kitsch of Quebec, where the Beatles played in the carpet walls where dozens of smiling Marilyn and Elvis on the ceiling decorated with a motorcycle) in front of a poutine.

Zouaves I dropped about 2:30 to go to bed. At work, the day was long, but loooong!

But I begin again without hesitation, anytime. Yay!

Do Models Wax Shave Chest

waffle

I published a few months ago, a post where some phrases heard at work made me laugh especially in the context of that particular job. A bad company came across this blog page (in a manner XYZ) and me delat, denounced, stools, etc.. with the responsible staff. Who was shocked black. That was beautiful nightmare. Who thought fuck me at the door pronto. Who still took the time to sit, treat me as an idiot mindless, give me a sermon, his eyes wide open ("Do you understand the SCOPE of your ACTS") as if I was a teenager caught Graffiti wall of the school or pre- adoe who steals the school fund to purchase rolling papers. Excused myself ("I understand, I understand, mea culpa, what a fool I was, what I was inconsistent, what a shame I am, what a model employee I am now!") And was forgiven. Still, I was forced to censor my blog. It's disgusting.

I've still got a good lesson: The blogosphere is a wicked world. It may even have had the Fonne with impunity. Trade names, trademarks (® © ™) and foulle known names are the best way to have the disorder at ku. Hold it for you said.

I thought about it, and at the end of my journey towards ripening, I concluded in my new and great wisdom, that I could nicely again by hiding the names. Especially that of my employer, whose reputation is so great and important. It applies to you too. Playing with words to that ever-slash-wicked informer stooleur does it take for my wicked-slash-vulgar Virtual cabbage leaf.

A guy I'm supporting attendance at work (call it Barbu-lisp-to-Glasses [BZL]) has a girlfriend nurse. I am doubtful this comment yesterday: "It's quiet these days, I told my girlfriend to do a little less work. As I inherit it from his clients after." Hmm ... at worst, believe it (I think they all think about it, damn capitalists) but do not tell me.

Yesterday: a guy from the lab (those dealing with the client the nurse was not busy enough) calls me and asks quite simply: "SoBe (pseudonym) you got you clothes? "No, my habits Zen-Taoist-graduate work tounu make me ... He was talking about clothes that the family would have left in the closet reserved for this purpose, the client lab, ex-client of the nurse. Guys, do not assume we understand all your sentences ladles, it can lead to funny misunderstandings ...

could remember other things I wanted to tell funny (now that I know divert téteux-slash-nosy) ... It will be a next time.

And that job making me think of G. (for anonymity) bravo the newlyweds! When will the photos? Kisses!

Wedding Card Wordings - Only God.....

Break

Perhaps you've noticed, I am very weak in the wonderful world of blogs, these days ... Hehe! Is that I lead a hectic life of a rare bike, work, sleep. Two jobs. Two evening courses at the University. week. All my trips by bike. Intelligence, wealth, tan legs and steel will be the result of my summer. Yay! I will also

a little bit in St. Armand. My last trip was on "my cousin's funeral." Not really fun. For cons, the end of last week I went to a recital of piano school for my little sister. I was delighted, really! Imagine the diversity of parts, some 8 students blithely passing the theme song from "Titanic" to a Chopin prelude, making a detour "I would like to see the sea", "All animals in the world" and "Tennessee" ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_rjfjYOs5g&feature=related ), we sometimes rewarding great pieces such as "Ballade pour Adeline" ( http://youtube.com/watch?v = 8_m8uMuLsl8 & feature = related ), "La Boheme" (listen also to those who does not have followed my previous post) and "Sonata Pathetique" ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FL0u9QXNvEg&feature=related ). A beautiful moment, anyway! (And hey, I preach to my church, you say, but the three best pieces [the ones I put the link] was played by my Shicklett!)

I also have the time, many, not do otherwise, for personal reading, and finally devour the entire work of Garcia Marquez, finally finished Robin Hobb finally discover Eco (How to Travel with a Salmon) Kippling (Jungle's book), Celine (Journey to the End night) Vian (The scum of days) ... All, the sun, with my lover.

Internet? The computer takes the edge. Not too eager to find him, it would mean too much a return to school.

's all, I have nothing particular to tell ... But you can always leave me, as Geraldine, comments on the readings announced or offer me more!

Woman In Transperent Bra

blog yesterday ... Worse

Last summer ... or was it before? Yes, the last in 2006. That summer, for my birthday, I am invited to a celebratory picnic surrounded by dozens of cats on the way Luke. This is the kind Lise overflow of attention to me since our collocation in Montreal. The evening promises to be beautiful and, surprise! Christine is the game! I have not seen for ages ... describe how the "first impression" that always accompanies his appearance? For me, pre-adult a little timid still looking for the impact of my presence on the world, Christine was not a "model" (because it takes an incredible self-confidence to assert themselves as her!) but a sign that the development can take many different forms and most colorful. A sense of control impulsive accompanied by a nonchalant wave of freedom emanated Total my big cousin with matted hair, nose ring, tattoo on foot. I remember also that during this summer supper, we discussed tattoos: she wore discreetly three black lines at the base of the hair, and while I'd just make me painfully inked foot, Christine told me how she casually s 'was self-tattooed here oh how non-fleshy human anatomy. Unbounded admiration from me for her.

Last Christmas comes to me, from the way Luke, a new invitation to share the family table for dinner time. I am for the first time in years, and I realize now, for Last time also, in the presence of my sponsor and my two cousins, simultaneously. Dinner with Stephen, Christine and Rejean, the atmosphere, the energy that flows between father and children, is difficult to describe. But I can speak to Christine, the funny cousin to look a little eccentric, whose enthusiasm never seemed to dry! Listening to him tell his expeditions, I could only think about Aznavour:

The bohemian, bohemia
That meant we were happy
The bohemian, bohemia
We only ate one every other day
Exhausted but excited [...]

Was it we love each
And we love life
bohemia, bohemian
That meant we were twenty years
The bohemian, bohemia
And we lived the zeitgeist

Today Christine is no longer at the end of the earth to run organic farms, it does not plant more trees in British Columbia and New York no longer sees his truck or his Christmas trees.

We, today, to wish him without remorse, without baggage and heart free, a good trip to dreamland. Believing in God and wish to Christine eternal rest would not make sense to me: I'm in Christine and her energy, and I wish him a wonderful last trip. Yes, this is the toughest of all for parents who hail, heavy heart, but as Christine often told, a trip is an adventure!

* In Memory of Chris Benoit-Belisle,

May 28, 1982 to May 15, 2008 *

Kates Playground Hardcore Home

being mother to sister

What you should know: I live in Quebec for almost two years to study. Why go to school so far?! To follow a boyfriend and eventually live with an ex. Brief. I am, I stay. I love Quebec. For nearly a year, Mean Sister (Jobe) live Quebec. Why? For studies (And her boyfriend has left everything to move here with her. It's beautiful, love). Big Sister and Middle Sister crib now only 350km from the village, and the price of gasoline affecting fully and completely to family reconciliations, Little Sister is trapped at home alone with Mom and Dad. The Horror with a capital "H" (for all freedom-loving teen and assertiveness than for the poor parents who have lost somewhere in the user manual of 12-17 years).

Wishing therefore give both parties a moment of freedom, and still boring me Baby Sister, I run, the air does not hold too (NEVER rush Teenager showing too much enthusiasm!), low "When do you just make a trip to Quebec, Shick?". The hook is run, the fish bites the bait, the fisherman is happy. Little Sister is coming into turn one in Quebec City.

Yeah.

"-Sophiiiiiie? I'm coming to Quebec!
Yeah, cool! You sleep where? (Casually, not let my desire to have it with me too apparent)
Ben Jobe not want ... really, but she said yes anyway, then. ... "But why
(touuuut sweet) you would come not sleep ... ... with me ...?" But you got
just a single bed in that you rent a room in a basement, while Jobe has a spare bedroom and a sofa in her apartment, she!
- (grommele. .. c'pas a reason that ... ... grmblblbml)
And then in addition, we will watch a movie with Jobe. You could come see us?
No, I promised Tom to spend the evening with him.
-BEN! After that you think I'm coming with you?!
-H! ... (And shit). Well ... 'd have had peace in my home ... (Raté. Jobe has custody of the baby. And Whereas Average Sister is on crutches, walking décrounché dégeut blue-black, she will even have his personal slave. It is much too unfair.)

I'm going to cry and comfort all night in the arms of my boyfriend. Only son. At least he let me down for her sister.

The next day, ready to forgive all the Little Sisters, I spin, devoted to bone up Vanier, ready for a day among girls. Wow, I thought that this is a wonderful prospect! And our last trip back to three for so long already! Hmm. Tired of her personal slave, Jobe, enthroned on a sofa, her foot on a cushion enthroned, crowned with ice, announces she is unable to walk too and that's no question she goes to run the center shopping crutches and good, So, take the car and going shopping with Shicklett. Kewa!? I, alone, to face the rage extravagant abuse that I disagree and the inexhaustible energy of the teen super hype?! Duty to follow it all day ("Quick, we share! I take the train at 17:30 to get out of the Shopping Center at 16h maximum was not much time!" [It is 10:45 then ...]) As the sun finally starts to be less sissy and my complexion jealous vanilla ice cream Strawberries and Chocolate (or Neapolitan) around?

Jobe made a grimace and a smile sorry irresistible. I'm trapped.

Simons - Smart Set - D-Tox - Amnesia - Renaud-Bray (I still have my say in this story!) - H & M - Aldo - Simons again ... Shorts, leggings, shoes, jackets, coats, t-shirts, camisoles, skirts ... it Swirls and my wallet, firmly resolved not to open at the sight of the pair of sunglasses perfect, can not resist and I sign and I sign and I sign and I'll cry when I received my Visa statement but I sign I sign I sign ... I invite my sister

to spend a few days in Quebec because I miss her. She sulks my home, playing with Jobe, and ruin me, while demolishing my feet (4 HOURS in stores ... FOUR !!!). In addition, it is I who have escorted to the station and I paid for his ticket.

ET! it took everything to accept a (very) brief hug goodbye before I leave.

...

I tell you a secret: I had a great day. But hush! If she knows how it made me happy to see her, she would be able to return no more, just to annoy me ...