Can You Wear Ribbons In Club Volleyball

Put the lights on the tree

Imagine, if you were some kind of foreign correspondent. They had the task of regularly about current developments in ... shall we say ... to report Iceland. And then, just nothing happens, absolutely nothing, over weeks and months! Pretty stupid because then you would. Sure, the example is rather caused constructed. After all, everyone knows that in Iceland the quilted bear. Unfortunately, I remembered only a better image to illustrate how it is with me now. There is nothing going on in the State of testicular cancer.

I should now look forward and my blog can be obliterated with pleasure. Unfortunately, it's now not as if I already have everything behind me. I just hang in the air, can not start new and just have to wait until next year then it goes sometimes. The free time over which I had at first so happy, I can enjoy not because I basically want to but have no free time. I would have fulfilled time, brimming with good, normal things. Now, with this forced Herumgehänge I feel more clear how much it has catapulted me from the world. I stand at the edge, you might say. Or rather, I float in a different universe.

What the reader is would also catapult again from these gloomy thoughts. Finally, it is almost Christmas. This is also the reason why I do not send this entry as usual from the chaos of my home mountain in the world. No, as of today I am with my parents, where even the air is nice, with pleasant scents. The air at home is because rather pretty devastated.

Wüst is my brain these days. Formless and empty, like the world before God populated. Maybe one or the other just think the old gentleman of those days. I will however be packed with all kinds of atheism and be greasy. See you soon!

makes quick, the protagonist from the dust to be ashamed behind the nearest bush for this entry. He thinks for a moment, then he runs back again to the PC and type in: there

PS Tomorrow's a little gift for loyal readers a Christmas poem by me.

And again he makes his escape ...

This coquettish Crawford ...