will know all that now, as Obelix, I fell as a child in a tub full of misogyny. I mean, I have nothing against women who created them (even if that sparacazzate small cut between the nose and chin if you could save money), but the fact is that I feel that history has taken a different turn since "things that bleed once a month without dying "had the right to express an opinion. And I will not mention the undeniable mountain of data derived from scientific studies of John Holmes Institute on the emotional roller coaster of women (only carry the famous experiment of 1976 at Berkeley University, where a group of 20 women were approached by so many brave male volunteers in three phases. 1) and pre-menstrual phase: subjects female volunteers found levels of attack insult capable of scalping victims unconscious and then collapsing in tears and desperate repeated mantra "I'm fat, are bad." 2) menstrual phase : an absurd emotional breakdown, catatonia, gargantuan greed; tendency to ignore the male and then follow him even into the toilet and ask him to make a herbal tea; spasmotiche crisis of crying in front of the projection of movies targeted advertising of Barilla (eg, virile man who embraces a girl who strafoga Saccottino). 3) post-menstrual phase : verbosity, logorrhea, man marking Maradona Gentile-style towards the male, uncontrollable hyperactivity and illogical questions like "Why not create a good trip? A good farm? Let's go pick flowers in the hills?" compulsion of the male through any form of moral blackmail to the oppressive (and judged by the UN 'to the Crime 'humanity') ritual of shopping, sex drive out of range. And unfortunately for termination of the experiment autoviolenti-compulsive behavior of the volunteers (I'm still chilling video shot by scientists that most of the male volunteers banging my head against the wall and mutter, "Stop, stop").
But women are to be able to surprise you. Not just as a trained dog. We say more like a kitten who occasionally pulling out fingernails. And my girlfriend surprised me. I love my partner to be clear (this useless fucking note is derived from the terror that happens by chance to read this post). I want to be with her trying to overcome my habits from Siberian bear (which is broken only if the balls move a pine cone from Siberia where he had put). And she fights, fits, sometimes resigned. And having learned things from some of my behavior, I made a proposal.
If you talk of an eventual marriage, I head rotates 360 degrees, vomiting green stuff and I speak of the coming dell'Esorciccio in Aramaic. If we talk only of the children away, I say yes, no, that is, and then shoot myself in the foot to change the subject.
Then the other day and looked at me with a veiled face of a thing between the sadness and pain in the ass I said
"We do a good thing. Do not we marry, we do nothing, no party, no reception, no children, no honeymoon, no commitments, no nothing. We like it that way and thought. Divorced directly so we are beautiful and quiet and we can do whatever the fuck we want and we start to relax on your vacation. How about , half saw? ".
I (ie, the half saw) then and there I stayed and I was curious to inject its share of shopping, so to calm her down. But then I realized that she is back and I'm a redneck and backward that it was the seal perfect for our love and so we stayed together forever, like 12enni, all right, but together. Epperciò you're all invited to the ceremony of divorce among Women and Gato Gato. Date to be me because while I have to treat the foot when I accidentally shot in mid-speech.
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