Thursday, February 19, 2009

Anteny Discone W Lotnictwie

Nope! I am a parasite

So much for slogans, I'm not very good, both with photoshop, I think I'm doing better. This is worrisome. A bit like saying "I think the letters is not my thing. For cons, the calculations of entropy, without bragging, that knows me!". Well, we're not multitasking in college for nothing. Because in addition to research funding, it is also sometimes called upon to make posters symposium ourselves, and also go and serve coffee. Fortunately, there is not yet used the petits fours. But only because there is no money to buy it. Thanks to the modulation of service and the money injected large reinforcements billion (yes, yes! Is Valerie who says), it will be soon.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Lindsay Lohan Saturday Night Live Monologue



I myself was busy reading the latest installment of Valerie Damidot (one day Decals, Stickers always) when I told myself I was fine find a good reason not to correct my last 60 copies. Since I had already read the last column on the polished concrete in Modes & Travaux, and I also already read the topic people on Yahoo, I was annoyed. And then I came across your blog. And that's it. It won, I'm not alone. Ah, haves, we understand.
But I realize that I'm so lazy myself that I can not put myself in my blog para-thesis: "I am a parasite official". What to do? Open a sub-blog that would identify good deals that we, parasite-officials-haves (the meal ticket at the Studentenwerk to 6.70 €), enjoy every day, so "this crisis, we're all gonna die ? And if I leave free comments ... I'm not going to risk being judged ... evaluated? Because what I hate most is we come stick his nose in my dirty little nasty little business, we come to see that I am as bad as my neighbor wealthy office-that-I-did-not because I do not come to work university but I trav ... gland from my bed. Anyway, I announced, last 45 years, when I am genetically incapable of producing eggs, books, and students, so I commit suicide with a biography written by Sacha Guitry Philippe Bouvard, steeped in the flatulence of my mediocrity.