Soapy Taste In Mouth Symptom

when you have that humor

If there is a hint of cynicism in the wordplay of the title, do not remember it. Take (present imperative) 2 seconds to read this short reflection.

In emerging from a period of "shit" (call it a heap a pile), I realize how humor plays an important role in my life.

I love to laugh, other *, me and almost all situations, whether they are funny, amusing or distressing! I like Incid jokes (my berni), the running gags, jokes intelligent, fart jokes (foo haha, that always sound effect ... in fact my theory on it is that humans' s is distinguish themselves from animals when he started to laugh at his farts), absurdity, vulgarity, puns, irony (ironically the people who use this word is often used incorrectly), the sarcasm, pliers without laughing ** and the rest.

[Digression who eventually return to the track] Surprisingly (ironically), I admire little comedy, no they are not funny at all but I find that the density and / or quality of the gags are often inadequate for people who say they spend their lives with humor. My "average folks funny" are often as funny as Louis Josée Houde and manage to put my brain in a state of "ecstasy humorous "on a regular basis to $ 0 ... thank you boys and girls, I love being around funny people!

[And here we are back on the right path and in the heart of the subject of the note] I think the humor can almost be considered a "lifestyle." Practiced on a regular basis, it is a weapon both incredibly nice and powerful swing all the mysteries, misfortunes, faults, mishaps, we encounter during a normal healthy life. There are times when humor is the only decision we have to something beyond ourselves ...

This is not given to everyone of be funny (hep) and "something funny" is well on ... but for me, anyone who happens to laugh heartily * wears a kind of light (WHOOAAA).

Uh ... Ben's right there ... moving! Worse

forget The inescapable Mister Boy


----------- * Laughs heartily laugh VS evil heart.

Unfortunately on occasion, some people risent (or rillent, you sing like that) bad heart.

Laugh distress of others, "this dog." For all the times I hurt qqun believing it was still funny, I apologize and I work tirelessly (Cough-cough) to delineate the border of the laughable. A laugh

black or yellow to the extreme can no longer be the bearer of happiness and that's really sad. If you know who has more than qqun desperate laugh, help them.

------------
** Regarding clip without laughing, I shall summon the great master in the field, Etienne Bordeleau, with whom I made music.

Anecdote 1:
He kept in his wallet a photo of the ugliest girl he could find and, when it came time to show a photo of his girlfriend, "he went out in all seriousness world and sought approval his interlocutor, saying: "She's beautiful, eh ??"... Total discomfort!

Anecdote 2:
At the time we knew little, when one of our first dinners Band ... inquired about each other and the family qqun asks: "Thou Stephen?".
- Me my parents died when I was 5 years ...
... (Sick)
- Nope, c't'une joke.

Anecdote 3:
I am looking for my guitar tuner in the rehearsal room and the guys seem more or less attentive to my problem ...

5 minutes later, Stephen is looking to pick up his trombone and asks: "Are you a qqun who lost a tuner?".
- Yes! (PCQ super excited I'm sure he has it)
- Ah, I have not seen.

Anecdote 4:
qqun in a hostel in Tadoussac: Have you seen Andrew? Stephen
: Y went for a walk in the woods! All except
Etienne: BAAAAAAAAA-HA-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!

(Andre is in a wheelchair ... and he has a sense of humor.)

What Do I Do With A Dry Blunt Wrap?

lurch?

My last post, "trampoline effect", was thinking about the fact that plummeting results perhaps a rebound equivalent implying that the fall period was over and was beginning the ascent ...

The next day my ex told me she returned to Montreal from his trip a year and a half which lasted six months. An e-mail, my lovely remission ... Pichenotte one at the base of a house of cards. Hope has returned, the penalty and also a million questions.

After a moment's hesitation, I forced her to tell me what I needed to kill the hope she has a new boyfriend. After a few months, a year max, she wondered if she wants to go live with him or invite him to France to live in Quebec ... she had difficulty accepting the key to my apartment at the time.

I saw myself plunge to go see if the barrel did not, on balance, a double bottom.

But now, 10 days have passed already and I find I'm not going to know less than before ... the small return penalty is largely compensated by CERTAINTY.

All alone with herself, my ex is a girl already blurred. So I spent months in limbo, partly through his own fault, partly through mine ... because she wanted to go back if front was a mirage ... because I hoped, despite the signs.

I decided to minimize the contact for a while ... my mourning takes a new turn ... not pleasant but necessary ... it starts for real and I feel like crossing a must.

My roommate, who likes to compare the pain of love to a prison sentence, told me this:
"By the time you've done before clarifying the situation ... single account from now, it counts twice ... and if you continue to behave yourself, you can probably be released in two-thirds of your sentence! "

[He does not read blogs and that sort of "trivialities" (smile) but THANK Bruno, for your humor and your presence, it is rendered to you in one way or another!]

J 'I feared the worst and I 'm leaving for a few more tears and feeling generally much better than uncertainty. Lurch? I think not ...

I still have so much to me, because being relaxed to two thirds of the sentence, it would be!