French life from the key of life in Paris is in a word, "Pardon"
is the open sesame to make any kind of action.
"Pardon": you get a thrust of 100 pounds and a black guy throws you on the ground as he runs
metro.Non to take care that the frequency of the eight meter is a retail
is essential that you rise from dick because in reality he is in competition with those who
as he had slingshots in the first car to be closer to the exit. And while you're at
smadonni in land against the people of Italian salad eaters,
again "Pardon" stick in the belly, is a poor imitation blind drunk, that tramples you.
What are you doing? you say "Pardon" actually is right, it was I who was among the balls.
The French led a short-lived as the jewels of Big Jim: I greet once in four
why waste no time in pleasantries, and without stopping to talk, no, continuing to go ..
you say "how are you?" and you answer "what the hell do you ask if you do not die here
at least two seconds to hear na answer?". Regards short, short holidays: the peak falling in a normal
Italian feast comes after two hours, plus or less, in France but after thirty minutes,
they arrive, they drink like camels in the desert race, and collapsed down ..
arrive late to make revenue from dive makes sense only for those Taja to clean ... Greetings
short, short holidays, dinners short: go to the table and find a whole gallant dead silence,
are all in the Great, and while I speak incessantly ringing improbable phrases, with those four
crap on your plate, you already get a he folded his napkin, cutlery
well placed and accumulated garbage in the top right (at table, there are pictures of how
must return trays) and that makes you "Annam?"
"Annam ???... AAAHHHH" (pause) "'nnamo good!"
Anna
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