Cheese, crackers and liqueur. Sorted.
My first blu-ray film.
I
have no more excuses, i tell the truth, do everything i can, but it seems even that is not good enough.
i dont know what is anymore, the last month has been stress stress and more stress, building pressure.
everything i say falls upon deaf ears, evrything ive done has gone unnoticed.
i know im not the victim, never tried to make myself out to be, never ment for any of this, never ment for the pain. everything was perfect untill i fucked it up, never looked for anything else or anyone else, and never did anything of the sort, never even crossed my mind, never a consideration.
i just dont know what to do, i need help.
Ain’t that some shit?
Early christmas present for Emily and myself.
Got into trouble with a village for killing a chicken.
the blog of...: SERVICES 8M (ARSE-END OF NOWHERE) →
Avoiding everything said by Mr. Gilbert purely because it is correct; service stations are one of the strangest places you can be.
For a start, how anybody knows what station they are at, or where they are, is a mystery to me. Thanks to my parents, I’ve visited nearly every station on God’s own…
Its the minor differences you need to look for, some stations have fantastic flowing roads in from the motorway, others large confusing roundabouts, some have toilets in different locations. Small but character building features.
log^b(243)=logb(9.27)=logb(9)+logb(27)=2+3=5. What is "b"?
the second letter of the alphabet.
