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Although apparently become a luxury hen may seem a natural disconcerting know, ladies and men, it is not. Indeed, not only must learn to suffer by being electrocuted every superfluous hair one by one, but we must also learn to take lose an hour of his time each morning to dress in clown Lise Watier. Moreover, must know how to count to become a real lush class whore. But what do I have this morning? I keep in my words ... m'enfourcher

So, I said it takes nearly a bachelor's degree, nay, an MA in finance to be able to find a place in the budget for s' t offer the pot of anti-wrinkle cream-anti-dull complexion-moisturizing-skin-to-normal-to-mixed-to-day and ti pot of cream for the night which include a wide range of other benefits In addition to being able to afford the mascara lengthens, thickens, curls-invents eyelashes, nail polish dryer quickly-print-to-wet are the foundation for pale skin in winter, the foundation for the skin less pale spring, the foundation for the skin a little tan in June, the foundation for tanned skin full in July and August and the foundation, I began to débronzer September.

Do not become a class whore who wants it. Oh no! It takes good genes and lots of practice. These genes are circulating in my blood, that there is no doubt. I could spend hours sitting in the bathroom to see my mother get ready for an outing. I subsequently practiced a lot, using my mother's cosmetics with some mixed results.

The past weekend, I was, you know the start, the Lac in my family and I discovered with immeasurable joy that my niece was 2 years "caught" my gene pool of luxury. She watched one to one of my toes painted red tirelessly. My father, who loves chickens and luxury that has always greatly encouraged her female offspring to become, immediately suggested that I paint miniatures toenails of my niece. It spent the rest of the evening walk to watch the feet. She definitely has what it takes to become a real hen luxury. What is it I can not wait 12 years to take him rob the counter Lise Watier.

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We do not want it

This weekend we start a whole gang of merry men make of scuba diving in Ontario. This will be my first dive of the summer, which will come in after a week rather busy at work.

Scuba girl and I had originally planned to go there Sunday only. She calls me last week:

Scuba: What would you say that we go camping on Saturday night, we will already be on the site the next morning to catch the boat?

Me: Why, instead, we do not sleep there on Sunday night? After all, we are tired of our day and we can take this evening.

Scuba: Sunday is Canada Day, the campground is crowded.

Me: Oh! Nonononon! We only want to be in a campground in Ontario Canada Day .

Scuba: No. We, we do not want that.

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get laid

It's officially summer. The season of sun terraces, the outdoors and the season of freedom. Go out, get drunk, move ...

After a brief period of reflection last week and an urgent search for approval from people I love, I again chose to press the accelerator to close my eyes very hard and rush towards happiness. My happiness . Not happiness ready-to-wear or any other prefabricated happiness clearly does not suit me. No. An happiness concocted to measure for the feeble-deep I am.

Although I know very well that there is no malice in what people assume about me when I saw "pending" to have what it takes to fit into the perfect model of happiness boyfriend baby-house , I recently decided to ignore not only in my choices but also to talk openly. And if it could not? And if it was not for me? We do not always choose what happens to us in life and come to think, not bad at all be surprised by it.

Obviously I'm not hiding our heads in the sand and am quite aware that it is highly likely that I will again clock noisy or a deep desire to share my life with someone a but now I'm short on freedom, and foraging of multiple discoveries. A weekend spent at the mine in the Lac St-Jean, rounding-off and catinage honor, made me realize that I have any interest in continuing to swirl and numb and that those years where not budget only allows the follies but that time constraints do not exist, can slip quietly without anyone seeing them do.

I will turn 26 on July 26. This summer, I will continue to explore the underwater world with my friends, go camping, I eat spaghetti in the rain, I'll put make-up and high heels and will go to the pool within 5 to 7, I'll drink the pink on my balcony and I will take my freedom. This summer I will overcome my fears, I send up my license and will obtain a paratrooper.

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Yesterday evening, while I had no time, I had a few races and stuff to finish before leaving for my remote area and I was of course expected to party, I been tempted by a quick meal and effective solution. So I made a Pataterie near you to get me two hot dogs topped with ketchup.

"Very good choice miss" replied the young man who seemed fresh out of Kingston Penitentiary. It yells to the cook: "Two hot dogs topped with ketchup. With love for the pretty lady. No! Three hot dogs topped with ketchup. She deserves it. "

Phew. Not only did I have the right to three hot dogs for the price of two, but in addition, they were made with love . I could hardly contain myself. I was completely charmed by this attractive young man. If I had not been selected, I should have thrown myself into his arms and have asked him to marry me. It am'a already offered flowers, chocolate, candy, a ring Uh ... no, a ring, that's in my dreams ... but a hot dog? Never! That's it, I conquered. I probably marry the knot very soon and if I'm fine (fine fine), I may be entitled to a fried potato.

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In Love With blue

This weekend, I exile myself in my beautiful hometown. I received email pictures of three babies in my family and I had all the misery in the world to guess which the lot was my godson. I was actually very tricky to find which of the three was my preferred. One of three toddlers in her beak was a cheese a pacifier transparent yellow that I found very pretty indeed. I secretly hoped that it is my godchild. So I called my mother and asked her: "Mom, what Mathieu (Mathieu finally called it) has a transparent yellow sucks, because I thought it well there, and that it would be nice it is one. " My mother replied in surprise: "Ah, yes, precisely, he has one! "

family situation has become so critical, an intensive rounding-off and catinage needed. I leave for Lake St. John tomorrow night (I have seats available for passengers - my email is in my profile) and head immediately to the bar in my village where my parents promised to m wait to start celebrating the national holiday. Saturday night is the mega party de la St-Jean (I have also never understood why half of the province celebrated a day in advance) on the edge of Lac-St-Jean. I will come back probably with a few anecdotes and certainly with a good headache.

I'm going to this party with my old buddies high school that I lost sight of the past ten years. At that time, I got along better with guys oddly with the girls and I have always been part of a gang of guys until they will make some friends and I became the sworn enemy of all. I left my hometown for the big city, first Quebec and then Montreal, where I discovered the joys of girl gangs. Bitcheries, baffles and mémérage.

So with great joy that I found my old jars in order to make competition Sampler slot beer, burping and that is who-who-piss-the-more-far all under an atmosphere of national celebration in the blue region!

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Turn and fly!

Last Friday, when I complained of my lot and I anticipated a gloomy summer, a friend I call Super K since it does not wish to be associated with I started me a call, like a boring summer savior, my incessant desire for thrills has been able to refuse: a parachute jump!

early morning, the day seemed rather rainy and cloudy, which boded no good for our jump. We have been pushed a few hours waiting to see how the weather behaves. I went to pick her groundhog, because me, I could not sleep for a long time the idea of me Garoche down a plane. I took the wheel to steer us on the Plateau of Doom (why I go back then?) To put something between your teeth before the big adventure. I wanted to turn left but a sign told me I could not do so between 7 and 22 o'clock rule that I find completely absurd Sunday. Super K said: "You're not allowed to turn left," to which I reply: "I'm Calisse. Obviously, there was a swarm of police cars to watch my offense. I thought in my heart at the cost of skydiving and my possible breach and it was getting pretty expensive day ... I remain still confident, I never had to pay a ticket (except of course for parking). I look in my mirror, I get pale, I throw a look at Super K devastated and throws him: "It's a woman! "Shit, shit, shit. I have no chance.

Super K decides to take control of the situation and said: "Well, there thou gonna do the girl who does not know where it goes, you say you're melee and you're sorry, I'll say it's my fault, I gave you bad advice and at the last minute, I told you you could not turn, but it was too late. "

Alright, I'm really good at playing the blonde who knows where it goes, it's my favorite character of my twelve personalities. The police shows up and I start: "I'm sorry, I did not see the sign, I do not live in the corner and I did not know where I went, she provided guidance and at the last minute we saw that we could not, of course, all this punctuated with small eyes and a repentant air frankly lost. Super K was added, saying extremely guilty of making me take a ticket when she gave me bad advice. The police questioned us, its going to investigate me in his system and, of course, as I am a great actress driver, I have no demerit points. She returned, handed me my papers and give me directions to get where we needed to go (which was obviously counterfeit, they're lying or not lying.)

course, parachute jumping, it was small beer next to the challenge of having to convince a cop that I was a good little girl. Still, the day was finally extraordinary weather began on our side, we had instructors and cameramen incredible jump itself was one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life. Describe the 5 minutes does not honor the emotions that gave me the gesture to launch myself off a plane to go down for 40 seconds at 200 miles per hour and fly like a bird to the ground.

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Located at the entrance to Fontainebleau, Mont Aigu spot is accessible through a parking lot along the D409. On the parking, the opportunity to also enjoy a small museum of the forest of Fontainebleau. To access the blocks, take the trail to the crossroads of the swivel, then continue on the road Gorges Franchard. The blocks are at the curb.
The site is easily identifiable by the blue arrow on the first block painted on the sandstone rock along the trail. Tucked away in the heart of the forest, the rocks are well sheltered from the wind among the trees, and provides good shade. Little climber
frequent this site, which is rather surprising given the near Fontainebleau. Not necessarily unpleasant non-plus, the quiet is just as nice :-)
The site offers several circuits block: White (child), Yellow (PD), Orange (AD), Blue (D + / TD-) and off circuit. Both blocks oranges are very quiet, as the blues are an different story. A few blocks from Mount Tweeter:
- Block No. 4 Blue: "The Gaston Tarin " 5 -
- Block No. 7 Blue: "The Denecourt and Colinet " 4, output a bit scary
- Block No. 26 Blue: "Problem of height " 6c not succeed ... snif :-( Damn strips rotten :-)
- Block out circuit: "The low hand " 6b

Mount Tweeter - Fontainebleau
- Getting there: Parking , Hermitage Road / Route Faisanderie, 77300, Fontainebleau
-
weather today - My idea: Climbing in Fontainebleau, Jo & Françoise Montchaussé and Jacky Godoffe (23 euros - ISBN: 2700311906)
- information off-line: bleau.info
- Other sectors of Fontainebleau

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Day pain in the ass

Being a person a little, um, how shall I say intense, I saw the events and resulting emotions entirely. When I'm in a good mood I'm in a good mood. And the reverse is also true, of course. But as I get older, I become a better person and I try as best they can to correct my major flaws, I have developed highly effective techniques to get me out of a serious existential crisis. It should be noted, for people at home, it is perhaps not appropriate to try the experiment unless satisfied beyond reasonable doubt that the crisis is serious. Very serious.

First Technical : make a theatrical hysterics in a public place. Do try if you have a sense of self-mockery, because you'll look like cellar, that's for sure.

Last night when I had a crappy day, nay, a week of ass (and ass flat in the sense of the word), I went to join Nitram and Joss in a restaurant cursed on the board. Obviously I searched for parking for a million years and have got stuck behind a stinking garbage truck in a loooong loooong street. My mood is slightly feverish before even piss me off the shelf, it goes without saying that I was in a trance when I arrived at the scene. Nitram is my number 1 fan, I am permitted, despite the presence of Joss that I know little, to exercise my talents professional whiners. Nitram laughed and said no arrest "You're funny! You're funny! "I eventually find myself funny and the pressure is lowered again.

Second Technical : Run after the disturbance. Arrange for another brick falls on your head. This technique has two advantages. Either you avoid disaster and now you think that luck has turned and all hopes are allowed, or tile you actually falls on the head, then the situation becomes so crappy that your survival instinct will dictate to find it very funny.

Yesterday, I could not find parking and that the situation had become so critical, I decided to put my car in a prohibited area and thus risking to turn my luck. Small tip: the activity is more risky, the effect is more beneficial. It why I have chosen, rather than a place to park for residents in a tiny street of the shelf, park my car in front of a bus stop on St-Denis, corner of Rachel. It was the $ 52 (it increases by $ 5 every week or what?) As therapeutic for a very long time.

I took the ticket with a smile before a thick thick motorcycle guys looking at me as if I was the worst of fools to have grabbed a ticket. Nothing could touch me now. I came home and the smell of shit was felt when the key hit the lock. The origin of this foul emanation was quickly traced on the floor. Corridor to lounge, lounge room, the bedroom to the bathroom and bathroom to the kitchen. Mumu-the-Chieux had the flu. But as I was now one of the idiots happy, I found it very funny, almost charming, I congratulated him for this good work and I cleaned everything with a smile on his lips.

Guillain Barre Syndrome

Garage party

"Be careful what you wish. "I already told a friend. Not only must really pay attention to our wishes, but must also be careful with our claims.

I enjoyed yesterday to denounce the massive presence of couples around me and that I would inevitably suffer from the absence of my amazing friends revelers during this beautiful season to come.

Last night I had an appointment at 17:30 for an oil change more than due. I hate wasting time for such a thrilling activity but as I refuse to move my car, I assume. I had to go to the garage not far from me for that hour. I thought I would call a friend to invite him to drink a glass of rosé on my balcony garden after my appointment, taking advantage of the fact that I was near my home to spend a little time, which is rare lately. The latter said: "Ah! It would have been great, but tonight, I see my new boyfriend. Next time. "I call another friend who she readily accepts the invitation. We therefore give an appointment for 20:00 at home.

road to the garage where I go for years but has recently changed ownership, I realize that I'm 5 minutes late. In good girl I am, I phone to warn. "Too late lady, my garage is gone, as you could not. You want an appointment tomorrow? "No, thank you. Besides, you can now remove my name from your client list, I'll find another garage with a better service. Bye. "I

good mood, you can appreciate. On my way, I stop in another garage, determined to get an oil change that night. It is they close at 5:45 p.m. ET 18:00. I wonder if they have the time and they replied in the negative. I kneel, make the eyes and tell them my pitiful misadventures, their saying that I am an orphan of the garage since 5:35 p.m. ET will come to spend all my budget car home. Offer accepted, I get my oil change. I bank my nose to the SAQ 6:02 p.m. ET as I do not want to push my luck, I decided to give up and do not knock on the window with the eyes of children malnutrition.

I then returned home, I cook a good dinner and do some cleaning in the meantime my girlfriend. At 19:30, I get a call from this: "It does not work finally, I love me a dinner prepared by surprise so I'm going home instead. "

Thus the theory was alone was confirmed and an oil change proved to be the only good moment of my evening.

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dumb blonde and semi-histrionic search for multiple pleasures various accomplices. Responsible, the blonde in question turns into a pumpkin after midnight on weeknights and Research, at the same time, intense and passionate people can turn on a Monday night in short awesome evening. Strong interest in the sun and heat, pitchers of sangria bus speed of light, maraschino cherries in industrial quantities, white beer with lime (not lemon!), beef tartare, sushi or other dishes summer. Seeking people to go out, eat, drink, canoeing, camping, scuba diving, rollerblading and other outdoor activity. Necking in the woods optional. Amateur air conditioning and cinema in summer, abstaining. Complicated stories and cheesy couples, go to another call.

Reason for research: the blonde in question was asleep one night surrounded by friends and associates bachelors and woke up the next morning buried cheesy couples desire to peck and peck-my-ti-namoure I-t 'aiiiiiiiime-so-my-kitty.

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The male French

I've already told you, some time ago, the difficult or even nonexistent contact that occurred between the male French and myself during my stay with them. As I am now fond of pop psychology, I again looked in my memories behind this misunderstanding between me and them. And this origin lies in my first meaningful contact with a male to my arrival in Paris.

I was in Paris with a friend for a week after which we separate ourselves up to go in our respective home towns. I was, as always, single while my friend was in a relationship with a boy who had remained in Montreal. These two were called about a thousand times a day and sending each more or less than one hundred emails per day. When my girlfriend was not in line with Montreal, she was crying because she missed so much of her lover suddenly became too great and perfect in its absence. This kind of relationship is already quite exasperating honeyed like this, multiply these effects by twelve when you are alone with the mourner to 3000 miles from home.

whole thing only in order to justify my strong desire to meet people and my little subtlety to get there.

I thought the police cars in France completely ridiculous and I was taking pictures of two of them stationed near the Champs March, when a young and cute policeman scolded me and threatened me withdraw my film. Since there is nothing easier than to bribe a police officer of 25 years, French moreover, I finally received an invitation for the evening. The evening went well, we ate and talked about everything and nothing and I went back to my hotel by taxi, after having exchanged my email with my new friend Florent.

few days later, I went by train to Lyon, where I was going to settle for the next few months. Upon my arrival, I had an email from Florence, saying he had never visited Lyon and he would love to come spend a weekend and explore my new town with me. Besides the fact that I'm probably a little dumb and naive, that I am alone in the world on the other side of the ocean made me quite spontaneously accept this offer, which ultimately did not prove the idea of the century.

Florent arrived the following Friday, after 500 kilometers on a motorbike. He gave me a great meal (the French know how to cook, it, is not no doubt), we drank lots of wine and we finally went to sleep. Obviously, I had no other place to make him sleep in the other half of my bed, which complicates things slightly. Indeed, Florent, like a hungry animal, tried to eat me raw, without even telling me, which made me not only startled but also push for ever. A first approach failed, it is rather overwhelming.

The next day we traveled the city together and everything went quite smoothly until the evening when I had to unfortunately find myself again at his side, obviously well-armed my ugliest pajamas. That evening, I was treated to a crisis of male fru, telling me that I was really dumb and void if I could imagine two seconds he was able to drive 500 miles to road to avoid sleep with me. You guessed it, it gave me even more taste to say no, what I did with great success.

Sunday was the straw that broke the camel's back. We went on terrace, just to have a drink and enjoy the beautiful weather that gave us the month of September. As it was 25 degrees in Quebec that I'm good, I'm (not much) wearing a rather short skirt and a camisole neckline. While we were discussing Florent and me and I finally felt the harmony point the nose because of his imminent departure, it went with the quips that he signed his death warrant.

"You saw how you dressed? Everybody is watching you! I seem to myself what? Is it written in my forehead I share? "

It obviously took me a few seconds to realize really what this bastard had just told me but after much thought (1 / 2 second), I gave him the pass of Quebec in Christ. I lowered my chest, I went back the balls to be sure it is as indecent as possible and I told him, looking him straight in the eye: "It's you in those big balls you there? No? Well I'll show them who I want and you do not have a say. And I stayed in that position until he indecently coronation his camp.