to my old age I started a summer job. well, for pocket money and because I do not cut off electricity, gas (Note 1: who the fuck are these " Light and Gas "? what they want from me? have connections with the Russian mafia, and why do not you ever see in your face, why not show their beautiful faces on the balls in the face and tell me what they want instead of just sending colored envelopes with newsletters absurd to pay and numbers and all those bla bla bla nonsense?). the opportunity for employment has come through the most modern technologies of e-commerce, or word of mouth to an exponential mathematical or, if you prefer, a pissipissibaobao that has come my request to use a guy who knows a I know vaguely chick (who, to say the truth, after careful reflection I do not have the slightest idea who this chick), the guy who then phoned me (but what the nature of transaction could also be done by carrier pigeon) and introduced himself and asked if I wanted to introduce myself on the racecourse ravenna and time for such a chore really easy and then you put the pay agreement will be for an afternoon 30/40/50 € "(the phrase is quoted almost verbatim and do not want to, I swear, being a jack ass of the guy, among 'Another very nice nor mean anything except what was the tone of our first conversation that more scratchy scratchy although you can not, as discovered later, the guy owned a next-generation iPhone).
and so on and such now this, from the memories subbissato (Note 2: The subbissazione of memories is due to the fact that the race track in Ravenna is the classic oval track trotting with a central soccer field where I played many games in the youth Olimpia Salesians and where I scored my first and almost last, with a network Culos the limits of the miraculous shot from outside the area in an unfortunate 1 to 5 against a team that I have erased all memories, memories for other festivities clouded even more by my type Rio Carnival and the reproaches of his companions nice slap in the head and accompanied by phrases such as "What the fuck we celebrate under 4 goals?"), I showed up and saw the guy and the guy introduced me to a chick and the chick said it would teach me the craft.
we walked toward the center of the football field to turn the center of the trotting track and we have placed under a towering tower proved to be the judges' tower of race and then we looked with an iron structure and the chick told me that this was the results board and we took a wheelbarrow of billboards with plastic, and we started to place the posters on the structure in an order that the chick told me and I said that I understood and the chick seemed very relieved (the thing is that food must be stored in the appropriate spaces: order of arrival, number of travel; disqualified, the winner's time). then the chick has opened a Fanta because it was a hot Executioner and started to sit on the only chair in the range of 500 m, a metal chair with the seat in plastic rope (rusty metal and plastic half-chewed) and I have the second task of my job (I almost certain to have said job even if there'd put my hand on fire). when the starter went out in the car I had to go on a rise on the track, grab the rope hanging from a bell of about 25 cm. in diameter and play as hard as I had in my body, pointing out the strengths and making me understand the importance of eco flared was almost comparable to a soldier who signaled the beginning of the Normandy landings to the other comrades. my job (which, as you may have guessed, is able to perform any enforceable and be equipped with finger having at least a frontal lobe to 0.5% of its potential) was carried out with a certain peace within of the 6 races planned for the day and at 19:12 I was home and I ate 2 cups of spaghetti with tomatoes.
hours I tell you what I saw in those 6 hours
I saw two horses held his nose and brought to piss behind a corner, I saw 3 out of 3 judges pisat cone of huge belly, so huge that they all seemed to play "Who is pregnant now?" I heard trotter smadonnare 5 in 3 languages \u200b\u200band dialects, I saw a man on stage alone rejoice in a clearly audible at 150 m. away, I heard the chick decant the praises of the fresh wool and explain why after all even the blacks are ok, I saw a 60 year old in plastic sandals and swimming trunks at least 20 times wipe the image of a photo finish by scroll the pointer of its Mac and jogged out to the end with an "I do not understand a shit" I gave him two slaps on the back of a black horse and sweat, not knowing if he liked it or not, I figured out how to keep from piss when things take a certain turn, I saw a 20 year old to give a cigarette to his 70 while asking him "And how are you pussy?" I saw a tip over the trotter horse go away for a moment of glory alone; I read the names of horses from the most absurd Gohlem Blitz Mambo DJ Moroka Quasim and especially a lot of X in the middle, I get the satisfaction of a well placed billboard broadcast live theatrical run, I realized that boredom can be rewarding .
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