Recently, I realized that I have two main problems:
- more than five years ago that I have a boyfriend.
- I have severe plumbing problems.
First off, I'll admit it publicly, I would find someone to spend Sunday empiernada . This does not mean I've stopped being critical fervent women whose sole purpose in life is to find a boyfriend. No, these women still consider myself as a loser. But I admit I would just pretend that losing philosophy satisfies me as a woman. In fact, if anything ever bothers me that there is philosophy. So much so that since I started the Masters, I relapsed in psychotherapy. So, I admit, I want a boyfriend (inter alia).
few days ago I was discussing this with Elena, and we could not help wondering why I have not had a boyfriend from 5 years ago? Those who do not know me are thinking, " surely this dame is horrendous" . But no, it turns out that there are people much uglier than me going around holding hands. Those who know me know the answer, " ardi hates the world" . Yes Gentlemen, it is. It turns out that it is difficult to get a boyfriend when all your suitors you think pathetic. "Pedro is very stupid, John is married with daughters, Lucas writes me too, Max did not pay enough attention, etc., Etc., Etc." When you hate the world, nobody seems to be a good candidate for " groom's madness. "
Apart all, something very strange happened to me last week. It was raining in Paris, was walking with Oto, a friend. She was wearing a hooded coat and a scarf over his eyes. All you could see my face were my glasses. From nowhere, a car stopped and asked Oto, " Hey, What do you call it?" In French, this question made us think that she referred to the street. So my friend replied, Rue Lafayette . The buddies in the car responded, " No, no street, how's your friend?" What the hell? What the hell wants these human beings my number? Because they believe that I am a prostitute and that my friend is my pimp. Magnificent. Mamahuevos we get rid of those and we went. Ended up in a bar talking about Venezuela and after a couple of hours, we leave. I put on my coat, my hood and my scarf as before. On the way to the bus stop, Oto left behind watching something and I came to a stop. Out of nowhere, again, is for a car in front of me. Type low the glass and asks me "Where you going?" In one night, I mistook a prostitute twice.
You see that all my "pretenders" are imbeciles ? It can not, or take me for a bitch or take me by the hair. Definitely, the only possible solution is to stop being so picky. Moreover, I'm going to my expectations so low that I'm going to tie the next plumber that comes to my door. Likewise gentlemen, I am going to marry a plumber.
water definitely is not my element. In Lyon, the water heater had her own life. In the first studio I had in Paris, the toilet did not go down well. Now in my current apartment, the pipeline is possessed by the devil. Since I live here, the plumbers had to intervene my house three times . Once a month, the plumbers are in my house. Fortunately, my lease states that the owner is responsible for everything related to plumbing. Unfortunately, the owner is not responsible for changing the tires on the taps, it's my turn. These rubbers prevent leaking faucets. Obviously, my flat tires are all fucked. A month ago the sound of dripping water echoes through the apartment, tac tac tac tac tac. As I am on vacation, I said 'I'll fix the shit. " To avoid going too much into detail, trying to fix shit drip ended up with a broken pipe. Without even having begun, he had screwed up everything. Closing hot water with a wrench, a pipe started leaking. So now instead of having two leaks that drive me crazy, I have three.
If I marry a plumber, solve all future problems with the plumbing and I'll have my empierne weekends. All I have to teach the belly as bathing, brushing and eating with utensils. So forget what I asked for San Antonio, for the groom, best ask of San Bartolomeo, find me a plumber.
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