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informed Gente a certain level

am pleased to welcome among our loyal readers an interior of a certain c plowing, which, as witnessed by the faithful ShinyStat, has come down to this blog through a search of remarkable :

" Morocco trumpet?"

Ah, the bullfight!

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Sunday Taza Happy Days

addition to hair, a trait much more personal to me apart from Donald Tr ump.
Those of you who had to misfortune never seen an episode of the reality show "The Apprentice" will have admired the determination with which blunt the sympathetic American tycoon, shouting: "You're fired!", He fired at the end of each episode, one or more competitors. Never mind that are usually thrown out like bank of Asian origin and are hired former Playboy bunnies, the most chilling is the aggressiveness with which the pettinatissimo arrogant ex-husband of Ivana Trump lashes out apprentices to be made redundant.
Well, not exactly the same cold determination that on Sunday I made the first (and hopefully last) "You're fired" in my life.

"There are 800 dirhams (about 70 €) and disqualify ... but if you offer me a coffee we can agree. "
You woke up at 4:30 on Sunday morning, you accompanied to the airport and you get Giancarlo the road to Rabat. You have left the ramp to Meknes - Fes, you are over a dozen free of unnecessary checkpoints, have diligently complied with random alternation the Anglo-Saxon (from 40 to 80 kph) speed limit for making you laugh countless camera blatantly false. But finally entered the highway, almost at the height of Me Knes, did you fit a pair of policemen stationed very well. The first has threatened you with a license of plasterboard ("See, this one I'm retired"), true as video recorders that sell wood in the car parks of motorway service stations, the second established in case your speed (132 kmh) and I presented the bill. You paid with 50 dirhams, and six shared: There are only 200 km in Taza and have them all tracks in one go, with one eye on the speedometer and firm conviction that you would not have done more scrubbing.

We have a factory of concrete posts 450 km northeast of Casablanca. We found that poles were without matrix, sold them in black and pocketed the profit. We had the evidence.
"Giancarlo is in Italy (- fuck I know, I brought to the airport -), I can not move from Ouarzazate, you go to fire the plant manager and his henchmen?".
Yeah, right, I was wondering myself. You

presented as the Director generally came from Italy on a mission, you pretended to examine the records hoping to guess, you have seen sites with confidence and competence, have questioned workers reticent:
"Who has uploaded the posts this morning?"
"No one came to load the stakes this morning, "
" But how? And the 5 that are missing? "
" Oh yes, my brother uploaded them "
" Give me the number "
" My brother has a cell phone. "
"And that the truck that is who is calling?"
"My brother" You
resistive stoically for 5 hours in jeans and a shirt to 37 ° of Taza. And
at the end you have gathered the leaders and have indicated that in short, does not add up, there are points to be clarified and it is not that I'm laying off, but 'now we take the management of the factory and you stay home for a few days, then I'll let you know. But in your heart you were not convinced and not so happy and you feel almost guilty about your role to play in front of those unfortunate people. And when, armed with a consciousness not exactly spotless and an innate sense of drama, you are greeted with tears in my eyes you were about to give, but you persevered.

I started at 5 am, I drove for 900 miles, I fired 3 people and I came to 21.30. And I went to bed with Mago. How

was that song by Lionel Richie? "Because I'm easy ... easy like Sunday morning ..."

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I made a couple of things.
But yeah, nothing special ... I read a book, I went on vacation, I had dinner with friends, I fell in love, I watched a movie, I'm married and separated, I coached some basketball game, I heard a little 'music ... the usual.

I did a few things and have gone 30 years.
The day before yesterday I was 10 and my world were Kraktwerk, George and Mildred, Spirits Having Flown, Fabrizio de André and PFM, Kramer vs. Kramer, The other Sunday, Belphegor, Abano Terme winning games without frontiers, The Fifteen, the earthquake in Friuli, the term Sprint on Sunday, Beautiful Bright, Mork & Mindy, Swit zerland and Koper, Atlas Ufo Robot, Portobello, Liù of pupils Sun, the Bay of Angels, Space 1999, The Warriors, Pulici and Graziani, Buy me Viola Valentino, the Almanac of days later, Clark, 6-wheel Tyrrell, the toxic cloud at Seveso, Ligabue (screenwriter the painter, not an agreement for 50 songs), You're the only woman for me, Roberto Pruzzo bomber Crocefieschi, Discoring, I was made for lovin 'you, Sandokan, the Rockets, the total football of Holland , Tu Umberto Tozzi, the track cyclists and beach balls, Gamma, Too Much Heaven, Jongbloed goalkeeper with number 8, Take the first apple, Valery Borzov and Pietro Mennea, Happy Days. Exactly, Happy Days. Because those were happy days.

Then I must have distracted for a moment.

I made a couple of things, it's been 30 years, now 40 and I live in Casablanca.

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fact

In fact, in Algeria, Ramadan has begun two days earlier than in Morocco.
As if to celebrate the Easter in France two days after us.
you going to explain that astronomy is not an opinion.