Now do not say that I neglect the goat, my little readers.
Come, come.
Summer is over, and here we go again, that things are going so fast between the projects and meetings and Social Media Week and Fashion Week and the aircraft to be taken and English homework and everything else that's your business.
Come, come.
summer, we know that: Silvio life in general is separated, after Veronica Leonardo also the coach and now Fini.
Di Fini know that: sixteen years after he was fed up - and we blame him, but let's say, better late than never, and even that was not his idea where his brother lived. The
whether they admit it's weird, because my brother has to do the deed calls me three times a day. We also know that
Uolter, tired of Africa and back from Manhattan, writes: Someone tell him we did not hear both the lack of it, no no.
that the PD is pathetically trying a phantom white Obama, considerably more modestly a Christian who has the vaguest hope not to further piss off the voters on the left just a decent and steady the board the right maimorta. It is
faces Serracchiani of cheese, which is old inside, Chiamparino, which instead is a former young, Renzi that thunders from Florence, but of course pointless, and that Scalfarotto to give a strong signal gives interviews on gay .
Oh, and Sofri (Luke), which instead feels Arianna Huffington , amen: I think that I would just like to ask how he is not going Adriano, otherwise it would leave peacefully to his ipod.
the country runs into new future elections (but sit back and do not hold your breath: we have a winter and Portaporte Ballarò first ).
I, for my part, I run more modestly at checkin.
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