Jumat, 29 Agustus 2014

Re:Are you ready to amaze your woman this night?

                  No pictures? Click HERE
By descent the banana bush is a developed tropical lily, not at all remotely allied to the common iris, only that its flowers and fruit are clustered together on a hanging spike, instead of growing solitary and separate as in the true irises. The blossoms, which, though pretty, are comparatively inconspicuous for the size of the plant, show the extraordinary persistence of the lily type; for almost all the vast number of species, more or less directly descended from the primitive lily, continue to the very end of the chapter to have six petals, six stamens, and three rows of seeds in their fruits or capsules. But practical man, with his eye always steadily fixed on the one important quality of edibility--the sum and substance to most people of all botanical research--has confined his attention almost entirely to the fruit of the banana. In all essentials (other than the systematically unimportant one just alluded to) the banana fruit in its original state exactly resembles the capsule of the iris--that pretty pod that divides in three when ripe, and shows the delicate orange-coated seeds lying in triple rows within--only, in the banana, the fruit does not open; in the sweet language of technical botany, it is an indehiscent capsule; and the seeds, instead of standing separate and distinct, as in the iris, are embedded in a soft and pulpy substance which forms the edible and practical part of the entire arrangement
tropical lily
By descent the banana bush is a developed tropical lily, not at all remotely allied to the common iris, only that its flowers and fruit are clustered together on a hanging spike, instead of growing solitary and separate as in the true irises. The blossoms, which, though pretty, are comparatively inconspicuous for the size of the plant, show the extraordinary persistence of the lily type; for almost all the vast number of species, more or less directly descended from the primitive lily, continue to the very end of the chapter to have six petals, six stamens, and three rows of seeds in their fruits or capsules. But practical man, with his eye always steadily fixed on the one important quality of edibility--the sum and substance to most people of all botanical research--has confined his attention almost entirely to the fruit of the banana. In all essentials (other than the systematically unimportant one just alluded to) the banana fruit in its original state exactly resembles the capsule of the iris--that pretty pod that divides in three when ripe, and shows the delicate orange-coated seeds lying in triple rows within--only, in the banana, the fruit does not open; in the sweet language of technical botany, it is an indehiscent capsule; and the seeds, instead of standing separate and distinct, as in the iris, are embedded in a soft and pulpy substance which forms the edible and practical part of the entire arrangement
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Kamis, 28 Agustus 2014

Re:Dive into love today

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Thank you for your new account and your first order.

We are pleased in being able to provide you with this sample of our quality products and look forward to our relationship growing and flourishing.

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Rabu, 27 Agustus 2014

Re:Give your wife the first-rate intimate experience

If you can't see pictures Click HERE to View It Online
Now the first question that occurs to the inquiring mind--which is but a graceful periphrasis for the present writer--when it comes to examine in detail the peculiarities of deserts is just this: Why are there places on the earth's surface on which rain never falls? What makes it so uncommonly dry in Sahara when it's so unpleasantly wet and so unnecessarily foggy in this realm of England? And the obvious answer is, of course, that deserts exist only in those parts of the world where the run of mountain ranges, prevalent winds, and ocean currents conspire to render the average rainfall as small as possible.
But, strangely enough, there is a large irregular belt of the great eastern continent where these peculiar conditions occur in an almost unbroken line for thousands of miles together, from the west coast of Africa to the borders of China: and it is in this belt that all the best known deserts of the world are actually situated. In one place it is the Atlas and the Kong mountains (now don't pretend, as David Copperfield's aunt would have said, you don't know the Kong mountains); at another place it is the Arabian coast range, Lebanon, and the Beluchi hills; at a third, it is the Himalayas and the Chinese heights that intercept and precipitate all the moisture from the clouds. But, from whatever variety of local causes it may arise, the fact still remains the same, that all the great deserts run in this long, almost unbroken series, beginning with the greater and the smaller Sahara, continuing in the Libyan and Egyptian desert, spreading on through the larger part of Arabia, reappearing to the north as the Syrian desert, and to the east as the desert of Rajputana (the Great Indian Desert of the Anglo-Indian mind), while further east again the long line terminates in the desert of Gobi on the Chinese frontier.
You do not like my writhing and my straight, open look? Oh, my head is heavy--therefore I sway about so quietly. Oh, my head is heavy--therefore I look so straight ahead, as I sway about. Come closer to me. Give me a little warmth; stroke my wise forehead with your fingers; in its fine outlines you will find the form of a cup into which flows wisdom, the dew of the evening-flowers. When I draw the air by my writhing, a trace is left in it--the design of the finest of webs, the web of dream-charms, the enchantment of noiseless movements, the inaudible hiss of gliding lines. I am silent and I sway myself. I look ahead and I sway myself. What strange burden am I carrying on my neck?
A desert, in fact, is only a place where the weather is always and uniformly fine. The sand is there merely as what the logicians call, in their cheerful way, 'a separable accident'; the essential of a desert, as such, is the absence of vegetation, due to drought. The barometer in those happy, too happy, regions, always stands at Set Fair. At least, it would, if barometers commonly grew in the desert, where, however, in the present condition of science, they are rarely found. It is this dryness of the air, and this alone, that makes a desert; all the rest, like the camels, the sphinx, the skeleton, and the pyramid, is only thrown in to complete the picture. read more
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Sabtu, 23 Agustus 2014

Re:Make sure you will gratify her at night

If you can't see pictures Click HERE to View It Online
Now the first question that occurs to the inquiring mind--which is but a graceful periphrasis for the present writer--when it comes to examine in detail the peculiarities of deserts is just this: Why are there places on the earth's surface on which rain never falls? What makes it so uncommonly dry in Sahara when it's so unpleasantly wet and so unnecessarily foggy in this realm of England? And the obvious answer is, of course, that deserts exist only in those parts of the world where the run of mountain ranges, prevalent winds, and ocean currents conspire to render the average rainfall as small as possible.
But, strangely enough, there is a large irregular belt of the great eastern continent where these peculiar conditions occur in an almost unbroken line for thousands of miles together, from the west coast of Africa to the borders of China: and it is in this belt that all the best known deserts of the world are actually situated. In one place it is the Atlas and the Kong mountains (now don't pretend, as David Copperfield's aunt would have said, you don't know the Kong mountains); at another place it is the Arabian coast range, Lebanon, and the Beluchi hills; at a third, it is the Himalayas and the Chinese heights that intercept and precipitate all the moisture from the clouds. But, from whatever variety of local causes it may arise, the fact still remains the same, that all the great deserts run in this long, almost unbroken series, beginning with the greater and the smaller Sahara, continuing in the Libyan and Egyptian desert, spreading on through the larger part of Arabia, reappearing to the north as the Syrian desert, and to the east as the desert of Rajputana (the Great Indian Desert of the Anglo-Indian mind), while further east again the long line terminates in the desert of Gobi on the Chinese frontier.
You do not like my writhing and my straight, open look? Oh, my head is heavy--therefore I sway about so quietly. Oh, my head is heavy--therefore I look so straight ahead, as I sway about. Come closer to me. Give me a little warmth; stroke my wise forehead with your fingers; in its fine outlines you will find the form of a cup into which flows wisdom, the dew of the evening-flowers. When I draw the air by my writhing, a trace is left in it--the design of the finest of webs, the web of dream-charms, the enchantment of noiseless movements, the inaudible hiss of gliding lines. I am silent and I sway myself. I look ahead and I sway myself. What strange burden am I carrying on my neck?
A desert, in fact, is only a place where the weather is always and uniformly fine. The sand is there merely as what the logicians call, in their cheerful way, 'a separable accident'; the essential of a desert, as such, is the absence of vegetation, due to drought. The barometer in those happy, too happy, regions, always stands at Set Fair. At least, it would, if barometers commonly grew in the desert, where, however, in the present condition of science, they are rarely found. It is this dryness of the air, and this alone, that makes a desert; all the rest, like the camels, the sphinx, the skeleton, and the pyramid, is only thrown in to complete the picture. read more
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Jumat, 22 Agustus 2014

Re:Do you wish to please her at night?

If you can't see pictures Click HERE to View It Online
Kiera giggled. The dinner party Evelyn threw to celebrate Kies first commissioned piece of art had been a success, as was expected. The bombshell blonde always threw good dinner parties with fun themes; this theme had been Disco Night, complete with lava lamps, disco ball, tacky 70s music that still jammed out the open windows, and costumes for those who chose to wear them. Theyd gone shopping at the local Goodwill for their polyester outfits.
Kiera murmured. The conversation was almost too serious for her muddled thoughts to follow. She sensed Evelyns sudden melancholy and tried to focus.
Kiera settled at an uncomfortable angle, the sandpapery red roofing snagging her polyester disco clothing and preventing her from sliding over the nearby edge of the three-story row house. A warm, late spring breeze held just a dash of chill, which was kept at bay by the internal warmth of the three margaritas she'd downed less than an hour before. Evelyn, her best friend and landlord, shifted beside her before waving a manicured hand at the clear night above them and asking, "Ever wonder what's out there?"
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Kamis, 21 Agustus 2014

Re:Take your gf to heavens

The work of the old master is lightly incised on reindeer horn, and represents two horses, of a very early and heavy type, following one another, with heads stretched forward, as if sniffing the air suspiciously in search of enemies. The horses would certainly excite unfavourable comment at Newmarket. Their 'points' are undoubtedly coarse and clumsy: their heads are big, thick, stupid, and ungainly; their manes are bushy and ill-defined; their legs are distinctly feeble and spindle-shaped; their tails more closely resemble the tail of the domestic pig than that of the noble animal beloved with a love passing the love of women by the English aristocracy. Nevertheless there is little (if any) reason to doubt that my very old master did, on the whole, accurately represent the ancestral steed of his own exceedingly remote period.
There were once horses even as is the horse of the prehistoric Dordonian artist. Such clumsy, big-headed brutes, dun in hue and striped down the back like modern donkeys, did actually once roam over the low plains where Paris now stands, and browse off lush grass and tall water-plants around the quays of Bordeaux and Lyons. Not only do the bones of the contemporary horses, dug up in caves, prove this, but quite recently the Russian traveller Prjevalsky (whose name is so much easier to spell than to pronounce) has discovered a similar living horse, which drags on an obscure existence somewhere in the high table-lands of Central Asia. Prjevalsky's horse (you see, as I have only to write the word, without uttering it, I don't mind how often or how intrepidly I use it) is so singularly like the clumsy brutes that sat, or rather stood, for their portraits to my old master that we can't do better than begin by describing him _in propria persona
The horse family of the present day is divided, like most other families, into two factions, which may be described for variety's sake as those of the true horses and the donkeys, these latter including also the zebras, quaggas, and various other unfamiliar creatures whose names, in very choice Latin, are only known to the more diligent visitors at the Sunday Zoo. Now everybody must have noticed that the chief broad distinction between these two great groups consists in the feathering of the tail.


The work of the old master is lightly incised on reindeer horn, and represents two horses, of a very early and heavy type, following one another, with heads stretched forward, as if sniffing the air suspiciously in search of enemies. The horses would certainly excite unfavourable comment at Newmarket. Their 'points' are undoubtedly coarse and clumsy: their heads are big, thick, stupid, and ungainly; their manes are bushy and ill-defined; their legs are distinctly feeble and spindle-shaped; their tails more closely resemble the tail of the domestic pig than that of the noble animal beloved with a love passing the love of women by the English aristocracy. Nevertheless there is little (if any) reason to doubt that my very old master did, on the whole, accurately represent the ancestral steed of his own exceedingly remote period.

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Rabu, 20 Agustus 2014

Re:Best intimate life refresher

If you can't see pictures Click HERE to View It Online
Now the first question that occurs to the inquiring mind--which is but a graceful periphrasis for the present writer--when it comes to examine in detail the peculiarities of deserts is just this: Why are there places on the earth's surface on which rain never falls? What makes it so uncommonly dry in Sahara when it's so unpleasantly wet and so unnecessarily foggy in this realm of England? And the obvious answer is, of course, that deserts exist only in those parts of the world where the run of mountain ranges, prevalent winds, and ocean currents conspire to render the average rainfall as small as possible.
But, strangely enough, there is a large irregular belt of the great eastern continent where these peculiar conditions occur in an almost unbroken line for thousands of miles together, from the west coast of Africa to the borders of China: and it is in this belt that all the best known deserts of the world are actually situated. In one place it is the Atlas and the Kong mountains (now don't pretend, as David Copperfield's aunt would have said, you don't know the Kong mountains); at another place it is the Arabian coast range, Lebanon, and the Beluchi hills; at a third, it is the Himalayas and the Chinese heights that intercept and precipitate all the moisture from the clouds. But, from whatever variety of local causes it may arise, the fact still remains the same, that all the great deserts run in this long, almost unbroken series, beginning with the greater and the smaller Sahara, continuing in the Libyan and Egyptian desert, spreading on through the larger part of Arabia, reappearing to the north as the Syrian desert, and to the east as the desert of Rajputana (the Great Indian Desert of the Anglo-Indian mind), while further east again the long line terminates in the desert of Gobi on the Chinese frontier.
You do not like my writhing and my straight, open look? Oh, my head is heavy--therefore I sway about so quietly. Oh, my head is heavy--therefore I look so straight ahead, as I sway about. Come closer to me. Give me a little warmth; stroke my wise forehead with your fingers; in its fine outlines you will find the form of a cup into which flows wisdom, the dew of the evening-flowers. When I draw the air by my writhing, a trace is left in it--the design of the finest of webs, the web of dream-charms, the enchantment of noiseless movements, the inaudible hiss of gliding lines. I am silent and I sway myself. I look ahead and I sway myself. What strange burden am I carrying on my neck?
A desert, in fact, is only a place where the weather is always and uniformly fine. The sand is there merely as what the logicians call, in their cheerful way, 'a separable accident'; the essential of a desert, as such, is the absence of vegetation, due to drought. The barometer in those happy, too happy, regions, always stands at Set Fair. At least, it would, if barometers commonly grew in the desert, where, however, in the present condition of science, they are rarely found. It is this dryness of the air, and this alone, that makes a desert; all the rest, like the camels, the sphinx, the skeleton, and the pyramid, is only thrown in to complete the picture. read more
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Selasa, 19 Agustus 2014

Re:Do you want to satisfy your beloved one at night?

No pictures? click here
By descent the banana bush is a developed tropical lily, not at all remotely allied to the common iris, only that its flowers and fruit are clustered together on a hanging spike, instead of growing solitary and separate as in the true irises. The blossoms, which, though pretty, are comparatively inconspicuous for the size of the plant, show the extraordinary persistence of the lily type; for almost all the vast number of species, more or less directly descended from the primitive lily, continue to the very end of the chapter to have six petals, six stamens, and three rows of seeds in their fruits or capsules
But practical man, with his eye always steadily fixed on the one important quality of edibility--the sum and substance to most people of all botanical research--has confined his attention almost entirely to the fruit of the banana. In all essentials (other than the systematically unimportant one just alluded to) the banana fruit in its original state exactly resembles the capsule of the iris--that pretty pod that divides in three when ripe, and shows the delicate orange-coated seeds lying in triple rows within--only, in the banana, the fruit does not open; in the sweet language of technical botany, it is an indehiscent capsule; and the seeds, instead of standing separate and distinct, as in the iris, are embedded in a soft and pulpy substance which forms the edible and practical part of the entire arrangement
By descent the banana bush is a developed tropical lily, not at all remotely allied to the common iris, only that its flowers and fruit are clustered together on a hanging spike, instead of growing solitary and separate as in the true irises. The blossoms, which, though pretty, are comparatively inconspicuous for the size of the plant, show the extraordinary persistence of the lily type; for almost all the vast number of species, more or less directly descended from the primitive lily, continue to the very end of the chapter to have six petals, six stamens, and three rows of seeds in their fruits or capsules. But practical man, with his eye always steadily fixed on the one important quality of edibility--the sum and substance to most people of all botanical research--has confined his attention almost entirely to the fruit of the banana. In all essentials (other than the systematically unimportant one just alluded to) the banana fruit in its original state exactly resembles the capsule of the iris--that pretty pod that divides in three when ripe, and shows the delicate orange-coated seeds lying in triple rows within--only, in the banana, the fruit does not open; in the sweet language of technical botany, it is an indehiscent capsule; and the seeds, instead of standing separate and distinct, as in the iris, are embedded in a soft and pulpy substance which forms the edible and practical part of the entire arrangement.
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Jumat, 15 Agustus 2014

Do you desire to gratify your beloved one tonight?

If you can't see pictures Click HERE to View It Online
Once there was a Boy who had been told twice a Day ever since he could remember that if he started to go into one of those Doggeries with swinging Doors in front and Mirrors along the Side, a Blue Flame would shoot out and burn him to a Cinder. Also he had been warned that every Playing Card in the whole Deck was a Complimentary Ticket admitting one to a Hot Griddle in the Main Parquette of the Fiery Furnace. And every little Paper Cigar was another Spike in the Burial Casket. With seven or eight Guardians trailing him Day and Night to keep him away from the Lures of the Wicked World it looked like a Pipe that he would grow up to be the Dean of a Theological Seminary. Across the Street lived a poor unfortunate Lad whose Father was making the Futile Endeavor to take it away faster than the Revenue Officers could put Stamps on it. He was the original Blotter. When they were trying to pry him away from it, he would take a chance on anything from Arnica to Extract of Vanilla. According to all the Laws of Heredity the only Son was cast for the Part of Joe Morgan. He is now the Head of a Mail-Order House. When he sees a Corkscrew he pulls his Hat firmly over his Ears and runs a Mile. The Graduate of the Lecture Bureau may be found in a swagger Club any evening with a Bourbon H. B. at his Right, a stack of Student Lamps at his Left and Two Small Pair pressed closely against his Bosom. MORAL: The Modern Ambition seems to be to vary the Program
With the cattle on hand
Once there was a Boy who had been told twice a Day ever since he could remember that if he started to go into one of those Doggeries with swinging Doors in front and Mirrors along the Side, a Blue Flame would shoot out and burn him to a Cinder. Also he had been warned that every Playing Card in the whole Deck was a Complimentary Ticket admitting one to a Hot Griddle in the Main Parquette of the Fiery Furnace. And every little Paper Cigar was another Spike in the Burial Casket. With seven or eight Guardians trailing him Day and Night to keep him away from the Lures of the Wicked World it looked like a Pipe that he would grow up to be the Dean of a Theological Seminary. Across the Street lived a poor unfortunate Lad whose Father was making the Futile Endeavor to take it away faster than the Revenue Officers could put Stamps on it. He was the original Blotter. When they were trying to pry him away from it, he would take a chance on anything from Arnica to Extract of Vanilla. According to all the Laws of Heredity the only Son was cast for the Part of Joe Morgan. He is now the Head of a Mail-Order House. When he sees a Corkscrew he pulls his Hat firmly over his Ears and runs a Mile. The Graduate of the Lecture Bureau may be found in a swagger Club any evening with a Bourbon H. B. at his Right, a stack of Student Lamps at his Left and Two Small Pair pressed closely against his Bosom. MORAL: The Modern Ambition seems to be to vary the Program.
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Rabu, 13 Agustus 2014

Increase your love life

Thank you for your kind letter regarding your exceptional treatment by one of our employees. A copy of your letter has been forwarded to the personnel department and will be included in the employee's file.
Please accept the enclosed certificate, which, when presented, will entitle the bearer to a ten percent discount on the merchandise being purchased at that time
This is but a small token of our appreciation of customers such as you, upon whose satisfaction we have been allowed to grow and prosper in this highly competitive marketplace
The undersigned hereby acknowledges receipt and delivery of the goods described on the annexed list or invoice and further acknowledges that said goods have been inspected and are without defect.

Signed under seal this 30_ day of Jul _, 2014_.

Jone Smith
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Minggu, 03 Agustus 2014

Evoke your senses

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The work of the old master is lightly incised on reindeer horn, and represents two horses, of a very early and heavy type, following one another, with heads stretched forward, as if sniffing the air suspiciously in search of enemies. The horses would certainly excite unfavourable comment at Newmarket. Their 'points' are undoubtedly coarse and clumsy: their heads are big, thick, stupid, and ungainly; their manes are bushy and ill-defined; their legs are distinctly feeble and spindle-shaped; their tails more closely resemble the tail of the domestic pig than that of the noble animal beloved with a love passing the love of women by the English aristocracy. Nevertheless there is little (if any) reason to doubt that my very old master did, on the whole, accurately represent the ancestral steed of his own exceedingly remote period.
There were once horses even as is the horse of the prehistoric Dordonian artist. Such clumsy, big-headed brutes, dun in hue and striped down the back like modern donkeys, did actually once roam over the low plains where Paris now stands, and browse off lush grass and tall water-plants around the quays of Bordeaux and Lyons. Not only do the bones of the contemporary horses, dug up in caves, prove this, but quite recently the Russian traveller Prjevalsky (whose name is so much easier to spell than to pronounce) has discovered a similar living horse, which drags on an obscure existence somewhere in the high table-lands of Central Asia. Prjevalsky's horse (you see, as I have only to write the word, without uttering it, I don't mind how often or how intrepidly I use it) is so singularly like the clumsy brutes that sat, or rather stood, for their portraits to my old master that we can't do better than begin by describing him _in propria persona
Erectile dysfunction is no longer the scourge of the society! It can be cured easily!
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Sabtu, 02 Agustus 2014

Now you can have more and more joy

If you can't see pictures Click HERE to View It Online
Once there was a Boy who had been told twice a Day ever since he could remember that if he started to go into one of those Doggeries with swinging Doors in front and Mirrors along the Side, a Blue Flame would shoot out and burn him to a Cinder. Also he had been warned that every Playing Card in the whole Deck was a Complimentary Ticket admitting one to a Hot Griddle in the Main Parquette of the Fiery Furnace. And every little Paper Cigar was another Spike in the Burial Casket. With seven or eight Guardians trailing him Day and Night to keep him away from the Lures of the Wicked World it looked like a Pipe that he would grow up to be the Dean of a Theological Seminary. Across the Street lived a poor unfortunate Lad whose Father was making the Futile Endeavor to take it away faster than the Revenue Officers could put Stamps on it. He was the original Blotter. When they were trying to pry him away from it, he would take a chance on anything from Arnica to Extract of Vanilla. According to all the Laws of Heredity the only Son was cast for the Part of Joe Morgan. He is now the Head of a Mail-Order House. When he sees a Corkscrew he pulls his Hat firmly over his Ears and runs a Mile. The Graduate of the Lecture Bureau may be found in a swagger Club any evening with a Bourbon H. B. at his Right, a stack of Student Lamps at his Left and Two Small Pair pressed closely against his Bosom. MORAL: The Modern Ambition seems to be to vary the Program
With the cattle on hand
Once there was a Boy who had been told twice a Day ever since he could remember that if he started to go into one of those Doggeries with swinging Doors in front and Mirrors along the Side, a Blue Flame would shoot out and burn him to a Cinder. Also he had been warned that every Playing Card in the whole Deck was a Complimentary Ticket admitting one to a Hot Griddle in the Main Parquette of the Fiery Furnace. And every little Paper Cigar was another Spike in the Burial Casket. With seven or eight Guardians trailing him Day and Night to keep him away from the Lures of the Wicked World it looked like a Pipe that he would grow up to be the Dean of a Theological Seminary. Across the Street lived a poor unfortunate Lad whose Father was making the Futile Endeavor to take it away faster than the Revenue Officers could put Stamps on it. He was the original Blotter. When they were trying to pry him away from it, he would take a chance on anything from Arnica to Extract of Vanilla. According to all the Laws of Heredity the only Son was cast for the Part of Joe Morgan. He is now the Head of a Mail-Order House. When he sees a Corkscrew he pulls his Hat firmly over his Ears and runs a Mile. The Graduate of the Lecture Bureau may be found in a swagger Club any evening with a Bourbon H. B. at his Right, a stack of Student Lamps at his Left and Two Small Pair pressed closely against his Bosom. MORAL: The Modern Ambition seems to be to vary the Program.
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Jumat, 01 Agustus 2014

Increase power and gain extra size

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Zhuangzi told this story to his disciples to make a point: Once a zookeeper said to his monkeys: You'll get 3 bananas in the Morning and 4 in the afternoon. All monkeys are upset. OK. How about 4 bananas in Morning and 3 in the afternoon? Hearing this, the monkeys are content. One should realize that sometimes a change in phrasing does not represent a real change.
4 bananas in Morning.
The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat in stoney silence. On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands. After opening the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss. Afterward, he walked me to my car. We passed the tree, and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier. "Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing for sure, troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning, I pick them up again." "Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to pick them up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."
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