GlendamarÃa tells me that it is not necessary to do a lot of blood, and all I know it will clear. But just in case, I have to say that sport not my thing.
And see that I have worked to try to balance on those heady two-wheeled devices in the Park reinosano Cupid. I tried to swim across the stretch between Billy Budd and the Island of Santa Marina only to realize that asthma attacks in the middle passage are rather dangerous. I was about joining a circus after a fabulous school football game that managed to stay several minutes on the ball with one leg before estromparme in a puddle of mud (why is it called The potato fields the field of competition?). But when it does not is not.
Campurriano of ancestry and upbringing, was a matter of time before one of the kids of the troops he could think of to try skiing. And matter of time before Pope Rukaegos clus points us to a mountain, we equate as Alberto Tomba commands and send us to the snowy mountains though, fortunately, no banners in the wind, and the times were very different. Or let's leave it in some others.
I had some success in my practice alisapistas asshole in my first few workouts. Making quite an effort to make it clear that the balance, physical or mental, and I have nothing in common. And discovering a monitor mantecofobia cocoon School Ski English who spent the morning grunting loudly, "Where the hell is the fat?". Reason enough for the fat blend in well in the snow to the ground and bite my tongue thinking about how to manage anger anyone looking and missing the entire repertoire of insults and barbed comments that will certainly learn a day books never read such a monstrosity.
But falls were not dumb, nor the fall lists, and when I got lost in the stony track Pots an afternoon of impenetrable fog, or when I was hooked and went to the ski lift dragged half of the table, the events that justified a stellar moment. No. That private space and privileged certainly belongs to my passion for flying. They just suddenly dawned the day for the first time I took the lift to go up the higher end of the track nicknamed The Goat. With beautiful views over the valley Polaciones that even clouded the evocation of the sandals of Revillapresidentix.
was supposed chairs were much much easier to handle than the hangers of the ski lift. And when you arrived at the end of the road, a little hip thrust and ass you kindly moved by a slight ramp that led you between cold caresses the birth of the track. These instructions and dreams when suddenly I was walking the fucking chair reached its destination without me knowing, and began again to rise.
guess I thought that the chair would then pass through a turbine clumsy eater, or hit the pulleys, or cause a breakdown in staff face looked at me but what does this idiot? Maybe it was that I burned the likely embarrassment of arriving back at home with your ass glued to the tree and face still wonder how they managed that evil junk. The only thing that was clear was that I had to do something, and I did. So, I jumped from a height of three meters, which graceful heron flying the banks, or fattened duck ponds, surrounded by the heavenly music of the station employees more choice chanting his repertoire of insults, curses and hallelujah.
not ask how. But the flying Rukaegos landed without incident in the small ski lift departure runway, a devilish speed that forced the skiers to walk away and acrobat swift halt rather abruptly into rocks strategically placed.
My friends approached me, yes, in the process of flipping, hallucinated with the heroic feat, apparently, had starred, and giving between elated and excited squeals that even the most macho and machirulos have dared to risk such a tribute. Tables for what you want, we left before they reached the terminal Curritos already approached to take away the bonus for using the ski track mad.
following Saturday and I decided to use the widget on a regular basis, raising the rear at the right time. But for a moment I really thought he could fly.
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