I do not like the new turn that shit my terrible life is taking. I mean, I'm awake to, what time is nine and a half? are standing for nearly two hours.
OK, are in a dressing gown and cazzeggiano on the couch, I am a retired part-time but the difference with real age is remarkable: no one is paying me.
Then in the afternoon to start my day working person. Work to start on the first two, at five second and who knows when I finish, I come home very late. Then, tomorrow night, the third fucking work, the slave of the rich.
And I also organized in the afternoon for football.
Ah, I forgot, yesterday was my day off so I had time to devote to the fourth hilarious chore. That seems so
ch I have a life full of stress and fatigue, which, although it is not true, that's what I wanted you to believe, to make me sympathize.
In reality, and here is the sad part, is not a real cock. I work four, for a total of 35 hours per week. This week.
Last week I worked the beauty of 8.5 hours.
The problem is that I always thought he reached the age of thirty would have been completely different: I would have to have a guy saying he was worried about my future. I would then keep their feet on the desk and I'd leave that to produce this magic money for me, so allow me to drink without restraint.
Unfortunately no one has yet presented to my door to offer me anything.
The next Jehovah's Witness the system for the holidays.
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