Cervical Mucous Day 20

Dictionary impromptu: Good Scott

Born on a fine morning in July 1946 in the small Scottish town of Kirriemuir, a charming village in the north whose specialty appears to be a strange sort of cocktail of white wine supplemented with berries, Ronald Belfort Scott moved with his parents very young at Fremantle, South West Australia. This is the first time the young Ronald finds himself upside the head, and that's a bad habit that he does not really separate.

very young Ronald was nicknamed "Happy" by his classmates, not that he is endowed with an extraordinary spirit of generosity, but rather as a diminutive of "Bones, bones, for those who do not fully mastered the language of Peter Shilton. His colleagues mocked incessantly of his strange Scottish accent, Bon Scott was fighting regularly in the school yard and had acquired a reputation as a tough, hard as a bone, in fact. In fact, he left school at fifteen, became a garage mechanic, electrician, postman, bartender and bus driver, did a little jail for having siphoned gasoline, is trying to enlist in the Australian army but kicked out quickly when officers realize that it is he who is completely siphoned.

In 1964, tired of accumulating small jobs, Bon Scott tries his luck as a rock drummer and founded The Spektors, merging quickly with another local group to give The Valentines, rock'n'roll combo whose glory has been done the first part of The Easybeats in Perth, whose guitarist is none other than ... George Young, older brother of Angus and Malcolm. The Valentines split in 1970 and Bon Scott joined the progressive rock band Fraternity, is the first part of Status Quo and released two albums that we hope never to have to listen one day, two works which now use the guys Guantanamo to admit the evil terrorists. Fortunately, Bon Scott in 1973 was the victim of a terrible motorcycle accident that plunges him into a coma for three days, cell the time it takes Fraternity to find another drummer. So much for the rock.

We are in 1974, Bon Scott just married Irene Thomas, very good too, and works as a bus driver in Adelaide when he meets by chance the two most famous brothers in rock history, and Angus Malcolm Young. Neither one nor two, he starts driving the minibus to Ac / Dc and then replaces the singer Dave Evans a few months later, just before AC / DC did so in 1975 the very electric "High Voltage". With his inimitable stamp and his Scottish accent, Bon Scott brings to Ac / Dc suspicion of madness that was missing yet the group to take off, and Let There Be Rock Powerage then finish installing the Australians as one of the major groups of rock history, before qu'Highway To Hell uprooting everything in its path in 1979. It's good, good is good for morale.

Bon Scott has not so much as to enjoy this brand new success: February 19, 1980, after a very wet night in a London club, he is escorted to his home in his Renault 5 by a certain Alistair Kinnear, who failing to wake him leave pioncer in its crate with a blanket. The next day found him still asleep, he worries and finally takes him to hosto, where his death was found a few minutes later. Fucking car. Bon Scott's death is still surrounded by some mystery, we're talking bulk emission of exhaust gases, hypothermia fatal overdose of heroin and more likely, death by suffocation in his own vomit. The fact is that the body is repatriated illico Bon Scott in Fremantle, where a statue was erected in his likeness and where his tomb is quickly becoming the most visited grave in Australia, becoming in 1998 a monument of national heritage in Australia. It is good?

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Letters to My Future-Ex (35)

My heart beats the charade

My heart beats charade
Just guess what lies behind my woes

My first was at the head of the alphabet triumphant
My second is no longer too sure you want to be so hard
My third would still mean well

And my whole transition is at your feet

Lovers.
Foutu. Foundered.

Sorority Interest Letter Template

The real true story of Juliette Montague (2)

And it seemed to be a good day, it would be a perfect day, and it's almost annoyed to have to castrate his creative impulses, but the pretty wicker chair she had spotted before the bar of the Arrow last week certainly did not wait half an hour, then , dress summer, light sandals strung light, a touch of makeup, light, stairs swallowed the fly, laughing, hand in hand, the little breeze that made them a kiss on the way, light, scent heady souk which is already filled lungs at fifty yards away stand vinyls hand that smacked good return of psychedelic, old books horny just waiting to slice their delicate hands to live a new life, the cries of the showmen and the rustle of onlookers, the rattan chair who waited patiently and quietly in a corner which Juliet sat happily to take their usual cup of coffee at Bar Tabac, two euro miss, thank you, eighty cents per rod and seven euros and forty-nine of vegetables to prepare a salad, side by side, in its income small kitchenette which gradually fills with the smell of sour house dressing, my God, He prepares the dressing well, and God knows that this is not the least of his talents, he might even show him his hocus-pocus favorite after dinner, one where he manages to make her come just by touching her body trembling with hands of aesthetic, but no, there he is again seized his pen in a poor state of cabalistic signs to cover entire pages of a notebook dug under the bed and Juliet looks at him with a strange pantomime fun , head tilted to the side, she will leave him a break, anyway, and he is chewing on his ear by surprise a few minutes Later, when she tries to put the finishing touches on his last picture he admires the composition and vivid, he always loved what she did to him, and He is interested in something other than the columns of numbers of rare vulgarity, He is there, nearby, visibly upset by the resemblance of the portrait and the position suggestive of the young woman's table and the position of the languid young woman who painted the picture in which He would do well to take a whole bunch of other positions, and he slipped on the deck a blues record that he just bought, and extorted him one last orgasm in exchange for attentive listening to his last paragraph, panting, breathless, as troubled by the virtuosity of her writing that the obsessive precision of her caresses, bingo, banco, she wins both ways and began to think that she really very lucky to live one day as perfect, while the steeple of St. Michael rang again, not far away, above the tiles of slate district, darker, dense and menacing than ever .

Juliette Montague on the elbow straightens, absently stroking his shaggy mop of dozing lover, approach her lips to his ear and whispers with any softness which she feels able, despite the urgency of the situation:
"It's five o'clock, my dear. You'd better go, my husband will not further delay ".

was really a perfect day.