Saturday, September 12, 2009

Project Report Of Any New Business

My wisdom tooth

Ho un dente del giudizio che a volte si infiamma. Accade sempre così: una maledetta domenica mia madre fa per pranzo il solito, pesantissimo, maledetto BRODO.
“SOLITO”, perché lo fa quasi ogni domenica.
“PESANTISSIMO”, perché è convinta – e nessuno è mai riuscito a smuoverla da tale convinzione – che l’unica pasta che può sposarsi con il brodo sono i quadrucci fatti in casa da lei: piccoli parallelepipedi con lati rispettivamente di 5, 4 e 3 millimetri, per un totale di 60 millimetri cubici; data la quasi regolarità della forma di questo maledetto tipo di pasta, questi piccoli malefici cubetti si assemblano all’interno del brodo in una maniera quasi geometric results, especially if the dish is eaten after a little 'cold, it's almost like a pile of bricks dumped in a concrete casting, which - as is known - is something very little digestible.
Instead of a saucepan with cappuccino ... pot with the broth! That gritty breakfast and friendly ...

"cursed" because he always manages to do on those Sundays where you can dine at one o'clock and I wake up and ten o'clock, having made - as every man has the sacred right to do - late on Saturday night. Just imagine what can be tempting to feel, stoned wet for partying the night before, a delicious scent of broth creep even into the covers. While rising to the north are the Germans and British having breakfast with sausage or bacon, I think we must go back even further to the north of the Norwegian fjords to find a poor man who just got up and swallow bricks cold broth. Yes, cold, because thanks to the powers of the unconscious mind while you're in bed if you feel that the time has passed from the time you have called to say that it is instantly ready when you dress was 5 minutes, in fact in the real world have passed 15!

arrivals, you sit still stoned, pissed off because I have woken up, furious because now the only difference between the cement and the broth is the color, and - as if this were not enough - is sure will not miss someone who will say, "but do not stop doing so late in the evening? You're taking a wrong turn! Not since mica c'avrai down with the bottle? "Ah, can thank quell'incosciente preacher, thank loudly that bottle, because if they are so stoned and time do not answer it is only thanks to her! Yes, thanks to her if I abstract from any external event, and is always because of her that I find his head bent down so heavy that I hold, with no strength to lift it. And what I see with your head bowed? Yes, that one, the dish of condensed soup, which is to solidify and we put in a spoon, trying to shake a bit, 'but nothing, I can only move a dozen bricks. I look at him well, and I riviene horribly to mind something like that I saw on the ground earlier in the evening alcoholic past. Oh Holy God! But then, my goodness wins, and I surrender to the pleas that the dish seems to me, saying: "Please, eat! If you will remain here, will solidify to the point of becoming one with my pottery, and I'll just end up making a frisbee from Easter Monday. "Ok, I take a spoonful, the port at the mouth half-open and shaking, I can enter hesitantly inside, close my eyes and "Admin", down, almost like castor oil. The broth is spread in my mouth, but what is solid, it still is not enough to infiltrate there, right there, between the gum and tooth to review! Aaaaah! Bastard!
The deadly "bricks", which have drawn inspiration from the Lego ...
After the broth, however, does not end the nightmare. The worst is yet to come. E 'boiled meat shreds ... and now it too cold, that no matter how you try to chew and grind, there is always an evil and bloody meat fibers that are always slips between a tooth and the other, but the worst is that among these there is surely at least one of which - almost drawn to the liquid in which it was cooked - ready to go in company stock to the gum that was stuck before.
After this agony, I take my coffee and run to the bathroom: toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, mouthwash, but nothing, nothing ... The toothbrush does not fit into the gap, the granules it comes to toothpaste, but does so only as a plug, the wire is a punch and then it's useless. Mouthwash would, but what does it do? Nothing takes away the granules that were on top! Oh yes, now the infection has begun!
Fraying boiled meat ...
three days go by and nothing happens, the fourth day, Thursday, I wake up with a swelling, in the next three, fever in 38 °: looks a bit 'my ass, are Friday, Saturday and Sunday! On Friday I do not think of going to the doctor, the illusory hope that everything will disappear on its own with a bit 'of salt and water rinses and aspirin, two days after the illusion fades, but the doctor's surgery is closed. On Monday, the fever passed, but the swelling no: I wake up to the usual one, and I find that the shift was in the morning! Tuesday, swelling the past almost all go to the doctor.
The shift starts at 17, and I stress to present one hour prior to take place. Arrival, but the good will is not rewarded in the race because of medical examinations, there are formidable opponents: the old ladies, who have not seen a fuck to do, are there from 14, in a country we know all the old ladies, then use the doctor's office like a pub, the good old days where you can chat with other old ladies. We must also look good if it is a social activity. And I shit, that disgust doctors and hospitals, I find myself to be there to break the chestnuts while having fun.
Find an empty seat at least one, an hour early, I've won. I sit and look at the wall. Pass 10 minutes, and take my crappy Nokia 3330 which only has games like Bantumi, Snake and Pairs. Snake I refuse on principle, and starts with the beans Bantumi: 6 minutes 6 and turn it off because it threatens to fall asleep and lose your turn. Step in Pairs, and I racked my brains for the brain to remember the location of each symbol fucking insane that Nokia decided to use the snake, the boot, the mouflon ... BUT THAT '?! 5 minutes passed, I reflect that I do not study by heart the formulas in college, and then in principle I can not memorize more useless things.
The old ladies, waiting to chat ...
16:30 pm: study inizia a riempirsi, e non si respira più.
Ore 17:00: arriva la dottoressa. Le vecchiette reagiscono alla sua entrata con un enfasi seconda solo all’arrivo del parroco al tabernacolo all’apertura della messa domenicale.
Ore 17:10: la prima paziente entra.
Ore 17:25: la prima paziente esce.
Ore 17:30: la seconda paziente entra.
Ore 17:50: la seconda paziente esce.
Ore 17:51: io, riflettendo sul fatto di essere all’ottavo posto, e avendo terminato i giochi sul cellulare, mi abbasso a prendere uno di quei giornali che più che scandalistici definirei scandalosi. La prima notizia è su Vallettopoli. La seconda su Zequila. Continuo a sfogliare, fino a quando vedo qualcosa che almeno can be described as "interesting", especially when compared with the previous "news": the Gregoraci's butt. As soon as I see it, just start enjoying the curves, wham! I realize that the old lady next to me that until then had been talking with his neighbor, is staring at the paper, and the instant after staring at me shocked, like a pervert. I - like a thief caught red-handed - I try to make vague, and around the subsequent pages, always full of tits and ass, with the same speed and lack of interest as you browse the news on vallettopoli: I try to show that I did not make any effect. Ok, 'Nothing, not even a master is to look asses. The paper ends, and the second step I took, but I am horrified by the choice: it is the Christian Family!



18:20 pm: it starts to rain, and the old lady comes out with: "Ah, comma ', nun there are more seasons of' na Vord. Before callu ago, then it rains, then freddu ago. Fijetti our pores, which bruttu mondu, "and in saying" our fijetti "turns his gaze to me. I read it, I read your desire to start a conversation with me, now I see behind your smile, you want to slip in a speech Pallos where I can only say 'Yes', "which dovemo ago'?" was mejo quanno if he was worse. " But no, no! 'It is the satisfaction you do not. Hint of a smile, then I turn now to take the phone, with a face like "hey, I felt something vibrate" when in fact I have the ringtone on the ball, I just do not call anyone! Pull it off, and start to scroll through a message I will come two months before, and I pretend to read it with surprise. Without this, I pretended to call someone. But since I do not have to call anyone, and I do not like throwing money should I do? Because I know that these old women pretending to be deaf, I - clever - to simulate a voice at the other end of the phone call the 4916, which is a week so that is in my recent calls! I begin to invent a speech like "I'm here from the doctor, even in a little 'up to me, let me raise it ... Then I'll call you back." And so I rise and approach the door.
18:30 pm: in the study is full of sick people, and therefore also of bacilli. In the meantime, I feel that there's hardly any swelling.
18:40 am: finally get my turn. Within, I tell my week of hell, auks the doctor asks me to open my mouth. It takes a wooden stick, and pushes me on the gums with unprecedented violence, and in doing so also has the audacity to ask "does it hurt if I push here?" Of course it hurts me, stupid! I'd be hurt too if I had inflammation! Me would be, indeed! After two or three times to test this vile, I says, 'ok,', Mauretto, there is nothing here now. Look, now you do 'an infallible remedy for all pass. "I, who had gone there with the specific intent to give me a prescription of powerful antibiotics that alone I could not otherwise buy, I believe that to be justified in being a bit 'pissed off when the miraculous medicine that was suggested to me: Wash with water and salt! Aaaah, damn you! How dare you! After all that I have suffered to come to you, I recommend a liquid so silly that even a bum would give me the Tiber, con la sua esperienza decennale in automedicazioni a basso costo?!
Ore 18:47: me ne vado, incazzato, a casa, e mi faccio i fottuti sciacqui.

Due giorni dopo: le due ore e quaranta minuti passate in quel lazzaretto mi hanno fatto contrarre qualche influenza di qualche dannato paziente che avrà impestato l’aria parlando di come le stagioni non siano più quelle di una volta. Ora mi rifarò un altro fine settimana a letto. Ma stavolta col cavolo che torno dalla dottoressa, e sapete perché? Perché la malattia da guarire sarebbe ormai abbastanza vicina alla fine per non farmi dare una cura potente, mentre per attendere il mio turno contrarrei di sicuro una nuova malattia i cui sintomi non sarebbero ancora abbastanza evidenti because the doctor's knowledge! But Vaffa ....