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The nature is artful and unfair. Why where there has to be a smart head of hear hair split and drop out, and there where it is not necessary, they grow and ear indifferently. Here if we were alarmed and they took and amicably dropped out standing. Down with electric epilators and torture chambers in beauty shops! Here so time and everything, poorly? But, to a huge regret, it not so. Having looked after to itself in the next magazine of a hairdress for girls for every day (ha, than we are not girls), we with melancholy notice that highlighting and chemistry did not do us good at all and to build something such that all gasped from three hairs, it will not be possible. And the pursuit of ideal forms yields opposite to the desirable result. After inhuman efforts and a doubtful diet from some vile squash without salt and oil fat on hips and cellulitis on a bottom impudently show themselves in all beauty, and here nails became fragile and the skull meanly appears through hair.
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Money – it is good. But they are not happiness guarantee. I do not want to save up money and to refuse to myself everything. Suddenly me there will be enough tomorrow, and I before death will remember that I clamped to myself on ice cream yesterday. So, I do not envy millionaires. Especially that at whom greed turns into paranoia. Here several curious facts from history. The ingenious American finansicGenriyettaHoulend Green left a huge fortune after the death. All life she heated porridge on the battery and owning quarts in Chicago lived in the cheapest rental apartments. Her son had to amputate a leg as "economical" Genriyetta several days looked for free hospital. She died from heart attack at the age of 82 years when she learned that the housemaid too expensive bought milk. I love beautiful advertizing. I am not interested in the immoral party of a question at all, let there tell anything. I – naive and trustful.Hypnotized me on the TV that allegedly chocolate gives feeling of happiness, and I, having bitten off chocolate, test the condition of euphoria close to a half-hour orgasm. I in the Alps … I drink a pigeon's milk, or Alpine, not very well. And to whom from it is bad? |