Купить хорошеньких тетрадок,
В них понавкладывать закладок,
Поназасушивать цветков,
Поназаписывать стишков,
В них понавклеивать картинок...
Такую славную тетрадь
Так утешительно читать,
Когда вокруг смотреть противно...
tsokotukha.livejournal.com/

)))))))))))))))))))))))))
<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>http://tsokotukha.livejournal.com/?skip=220

ולא היה בינינו אלא זוהר

marinni.livejournal.com/505571.html?mode=reply



читать дальше





ура - хоть что-то позитивн -<<<<<<<<<<<<<Слушайте, а вы уверены, что двухлетний ребенок вообще должен есть?>>>>>>>>>>>>

все - моедляменяпроменя



asia-datnova.livejournal.com/1363388.html

А вот Сетон-Томпсон, например, любил своих персонажей. И это видно с первых же строчек.
(השבה לטקסט זה (פתיל זה


asia_datnova
2010-03-17 05:02 pm UTC (קישור
смотря по тому, двуногих или нет


ofig u nee dazhe askme klassn:
<<<<<<<<<<<<<

на какой вопрос тебе самой было бы интересно ответить?
Я вообще не думаю, что кому-то действительно нужно у меня что-то спросить. И это хорошо, потому что на правильно поставленный вопрос я всегда отвечаю честно, так повелось задолго до формспринга, жж и даже интернета. Это моя любимая всегда была игра. Но как показывает практика, правильно поставленные вопросы никогда не задают =)Кто-то не обладает информацией о том, что стоит спросить, кто-то не думает, что есть такая опция, а кто-то и сам все знает.

На вопрос, которым удастся что-то вскрыть дотоле неясное - интересно, поскольку опасно.

3 months ago

Как вы относитесь к телесным модификациям?
Как я понимаю, имеются в виду пирсинг, тату и прочие красоты. Рассматривать прикольно, себя же я никак не модифицировала, помимо дырок в ушах.

3 months ago


блондины или брюнеты? бритые или с длинными волосами? подробнее
На это, конечно, полагается отвечать встречным вопросом: с какой целью интересуетесь?

Как верно ответил Березин - видимо, вам же - хоть лысые.

Правда, часть жизни я полагала, что - брюнеты, нерусского происхождения, и темноглазые. Но жизнь развеяла эти заблуждения.
Да и длинные волосы - ниже плеч - у мужчин не кажутся мне привлекательными. С ними только леннон оставался симпатичным, и то в том было больше идеологии, чем эстетики.

3 months ago


А у вас так бывает, вдруг хочется плакать - нипочему. А если да, что вы делаете?
Плачу! =) Правда, недолго - смешно становится.

3 months ago

Какая у тебя первая ассоциация со словом "счастье"?
У меня с друзьями завелась в обиходе фраза "Счастье - это когда тебя понимают быстро". А вообще счастье - это когда спокойно и тихо, и на все вокруг смотришь с любовью. Как на пейзаж, так и на людей.

3 months ago

Хотела бы держать дома птиц? А если да, то каких?
Нет. И живут недолго, и летать негде, и кошка будет слишком за

















redhill.livejournal.com/20067.html
Я весь мир имею сразу,
А весь мир - меня одну.



shengelia.livejournal.com/62021.html

Хорошо быть девочкой в розовом пальто!
Можно и в зелёненьком, но уже не то.

Хорошо быть девушкой в норковом манто!
Можно и не девушкой, но уже не то…

Хорошо французом быть! Жаком Ив Кусто.
Можно молдаванином, но уже не то!

Хорошо по городу мчаться на авто!
Можно и на велике, но уже не то…

Славно выпить водочки, граммов этак сто!
Можно минералочки, но уже не то.

Выиграть бы двадцать штук баксами в лото!
Можно и дойч марками, но уже не то!

Хорошо поэтом быть, Агнией Барто!
Можно - Е. Дорошиным! Но уже не то.

(с) Е.Дорошин

ЕРМЕН АНТИ
???????

www.tomgauld.com/index.php?/portfolio/fairy-tal...

+


+

Lee Jun Ki time between dog and
у них у всех такие глаза или тoлько у него ткой необычн разрез
наше назв лучше!!!!!!!! בין כלב לזאב
срочн найти время




community.livejournal.com/omonatheydidnt/643644... читать дальшеpochti kak i v kukol'n variante , zdes




s="never" >

It is useful to have lived long enough to glean some time-tested nuggets of life wisdom. Such as:

--You are going to get depressed sometimes, for no apparent reason, with no apparent cause.
--You can flog yourself into energetic anti-depression measures, viz., going to the gym and working out, but really, it's kind of like vitamin C and the common cold; take it and it'll be over in seven days, don't take it and it'll last a week. Avoidance measures, such as eating corn chips and rereading good slash, are just as likely or unlikely to restore decent mood.
--You should probably, however, avoid going out and mingling with the mass of humanity, because that will only leave you feeling that one of those apocalyptic species-annihilating plagues would not be all that bad a thing.
--Do not hit the booze unless you're fairly sure you can deal with the hangover come morning.
--Retail therapy should also be avoided; the hangover there comes much later, when the Visa bill arrives, but lasts much longer.
--Do not examine any part of your body in the mirror. In fact, avoid mirrors entirely for the duration.
--Do not beat yourself up about the dirty dishes. There are always dirty dishes. They do not symbolize your basic lack of human worth, your inability to manage any aspect of life, the inexorable laws of entropy and inevitable heat death of the universe, or anything else large or small. They're just dishes. You'll wash them at some point.
--Dumb comedy was made for occasions like this. Beavis and Butthead-level dumb. Practice saying "uh, huh huh huh" along with the guys. Alternatively, put on loud dumb music and dance like a dork. (Close the blinds first, for godsake.)
--Go out on the back deck and look up at the clouds for a while. Breathe. It can't hurt to repeat a few times, inwardly, Sometimes I go around feeling sorry for myself, and all the time a great wind is carrying me across the sky.
--Go to bed. The sun will rise tomorrow, and so will you.



katallison.livejournal.com/28929.html




ochki
The myopic leading the blind resonant8.livejournal.com/14014.html
Until I started reading HP, I'd never been involved in a fandom in which one of the characters wore glasses.

It's becoming increasingly obvious to me that most of the writers do not wear glasses.

I'm nearsighted and astigmatic, and I've been wearing glasses since I was 24. For the benefit of HP writers who are cursed with perfect vision, here are a few observations about glasses that you might find useful in your next story.

1. If I kissed you while I was wearing my glasses, they would quickly become covered with smears of grease from your face and mine. It's kind of disgusting. Plus, a passionate kiss would push the nosepieces into the bridge of my nose in a rather uncomfortable way.

If I'm going to deliver any kiss beyond a quick goodbye peck, I always take my glasses off first.

2. If I had sex with you while wearing my glasses, then I'd have the abovementioned nosepiece problem, only much, much worse. If I lay on my side or pressed my face against a pillow (or against your smooth, strong thighs), the earpieces would press inward against my temples or outward against the backs of my ears, which is quite uncomfortable. And they'd probably get bent out of shape, too, so that they'd be uncomfortable to wear afterwards until I could manage to take them to the optician for adjustment. They might even get bent enough to pop a lens out.

Plus: Within a couple of minutes they'd be so smeared that I wouldn't be able to see through them anyway.

If I'm going to be having sex, I take my glasses off. And I put them in a safe place, far, far away. This is so that a flailing hand can't knock them from the nightstand onto the bed, where they might be rolled over upon and smooshed.

3. My vision is moderately bad -- I can't legally drive with uncorrected vision -- but I'm not blind without my glasses. I can read and write and carry on conversations without them.

Out to about eighteen inches from my face, things are just as clear to me without glasses as with them. From eighteen inches out to arm's length, things are still pretty clear -- I can easily distinguish facial expressions from that distance, and I can read my laptop screen without my glasses if I squint a bit. This means that I don't need to wear my glasses to bed in order to see the look of passion and adoration on my lover's face.

If I knew you well, I'd be able to recognize you from across the room without my glasses (though I probably couldn't tell if you were winking at me).

So there you go. Now I don't want to read any more stories where Harry keeps his glasses on while giving head because he wants to be able to see what he's doing, all right?

ей повезло больше других, навскидку и не вспомнить, был ли хоть оидн фик где она отврат злобн карга - что бы не случ уваж на ее стороне

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Prim and prudish and octogenarian, that is how Draco remembers her and that is how she is, as he casts a quick eye over her. Age has not wearied her, but the years have condemned. When he first saw her, she was old. She doesn’t seem any older now, but then he doubted she could get more faded and wrinkled and sagging, dried up piece of cunt that she is. She acknowledges the attention, but doesn’t do anything about it, ..............and he feels a brief moment of visceral rage. This was the Deputy Headmistress he so loathed? This was a woman who claimed that being fair and balanced meant to discriminate against the Slytherins in the same way Snape did against the Gryffindors. This was a woman who helped lead the war effort, who took on running Hogwarts when Dumbledore fell, who proved canny and determined despite her age, who singularly failed to die despite Draco personally trying to kill her four times in three years. People on the other side seemed to have refusing to die like good little victims in common; it was, upon reflection, probably a reason why they won.

She knows all this, of course: knows that he tried to kill her, knows that he knows she knows, and doesn’t care one whit. It drains him, that he is so easily dismissed by these people, that he is seen simply an object lesson in ‘Why Slytherins Are Bad’ and ‘Also, Why We Won And You Did Not,’ not even held as a joke or source of pity-and-contempt. He’s too tired for anger, and it wouldn’t do any good – he’d just lose again, so he makes a brief scene out of flopping back against the sheets, discontent. Potter glares at him, but even that isn’t enough to give him any joy any more. There’s just khaki ceiling and khaki walls and a khaki life and khaki is quite frankly, so not his colour. The itch continues to build in his chest, tingle throughout his body, and pushes down the sheets, not caring that he’s naked, not caring that they might see. He runs fingers over skin that’s not even scarred anymore – the Healers did a lovely job, and how long has he been unconscious? Long enough for this to happen, long enough for his history to be smoothed away and erased, deliberately forgotten because they are compassionate and guilty, and Draco’s very existence is both crime and mortifying reminder of their own mistakes, their own inability to redeem him. But they made him look nice and pretty again, so he supposes they want him grateful. “What’s wrong with me?” he asks, barely able to keep from screaming, and he can see the look that Potter and McGonagall share. They know, they know and he hasn’t even got his wand. His fingers flex for it automatically, but it’s not there and he feels cut again.

>