Why Do My Legs Burn And Ache?

So, my theory is this: who really knows how to play the guitar not very good at Guitar Hero, and those who play by dogs instead Strippa levels imaginable. Ergo, it is a game for frustrated guitar.
Guess what I'm good at Guitar Hero?



My playlist of the game:

1. Steady As She Goes - The Raconteurs
2. 20th Century Boy - T-Rex
3. Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana
4. Ring Of Fire - Johnny Cash
5. Plug In Baby - Muse ("look at the face he does! Watch face that is!")
6. Bullet With Butterfly Wings - Smashing Pumpkins
7. Du Hast - Rammstein (XDDD)
8. Under Pressure - Queen
9. 21st Century Schizoid Man - King Crimson
10. All Along The Watchtower - Bob Dylan




So. One enters the house of a friend of friends, see a box full of crickets on the refrigerator and legitimately (according to me) asks:
"And those?"
"Eh, are Agatha and Anastasia
" Oh, I'm a gift for your sisters? "
" No. .. I'm my tarantulas dinner. "

"..." "You did not know that I have a couple of tarantulas?"
"Ha ha ha, funny, yes yes ... And where these terrestrial tarantulas, under the bed? "
" No, in the second drawer of my desk. "
"Sure."
"I'll show you, if you want."
"Okay."
The friend goes away, and I light a cigarette with a wry smile.
"Now go back with a pair of rubber spiders," I say to others.
"Elo, look what has them really."
"Vive?"
"Yeah."
"But we, as a crazy person could ever ... OCCRISTO E 'VERO horror! "
" You see them more closely? I open the display case, if you want. " Here
imagine that it has launched a series ultrasound are the envy of a dog whistle.
"NO! Tienimele away, fuck, are enormous and disgust ... NO NOT THEM IN HAND SCHIIIIIIIFO "
And so on for about twenty minutes, the guy who explained to me word for word for life, death and miracles of these eight-legged monsters: they are practically blind, which secrete fluid but not are poisonous, who once escaped from the cage and stayed around the house a week (?!!!), etc.. etc..
I did not sleep last night - I heard them walking on the bed. Ew.


I is already rising anxiety maturity. And we are in January.
Perfect.


I have a camera, I have a damn CAMERA FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE!


Who wants to read "Mastro Don Gesualdo"?
I, frankly, the news had already been enough.
No, really, I liked them. But more than 100 pages of Verga are lethal.


I want to find a job to earn something for myself. Inenarrabilmente I feel useless at this time.