are obsessive compulsive disorder. Distrust of supermarkets, shopping centers, large retail stores. I go to the milkman, the baker, in the shops they do not exceed 40 square meters. Which is why I do not like to enter a lot of places, among them the great libraries (ie the general markets of the paper), including the ubiquitous Feltrinelli MEGASHOP multitasking cd dvd book keyboards, guitars calendars absorbent underpants fuck I just want to buy a book.
usually communicate a title to the bookstore and my attorney he told me, even with a 10 percent discount. But this time it has done it. Was it the age, a distraction, or the fact that the two titles I was looking for are out of print, perhaps because republished, most probably because the remaining copies Feltrinelli bought them all and sell them online.
In fact I find them online. Even with cash payment (the cocks I come to give you my Visa number, you are Italian, I do not trust!). I give and I order them, although Mario had warned me, and to its otherworldly nature I should listen to him. Enter the site
Feltrinelli, in particular, is a slippery experience. We have attached the article, laFeltrinelli.it, like a friend, Joan, as if cucisse the tie to the shirt just because I usually go together. Slipping on that item so determined that it makes you feel a regular consumer.
Watch the site is like taking a sofa in one eye, and round shapes from Ferrari red and purple (and, moreover, could not choose but laFeltrinelli ilRosso, and the person who happens to know). Fill in the usual form in which they ask your name, surname, family tree, telephone numbers and tuanonna blackberry pager fax email, Giugiù tremendous acceptance form to:
"Under the law authorize questaequella laFeltrinelli imieiDati to treat as he likes to fuck them to send me books and even advertising and tuttecose, and if you do not agree to not only get the books, but I am also probably deleted by the Registry I cancel a passport if I'm wrong is not an ambulance, and I had seven years of bad luck (three on probation). "
agree (I do that?).
finish the order and print all (once you did things on paper, sing my grandmother used to say that because she loved distrusted Di Stefano and Luciano Pavarotti, today you do everything on line and then press "so I have a copy '. It is the technological evolution: it is so fast, but fast enough, which is reached by herself and manages to slam his face on his own ass). And I realize that I made a mistake in typing the number of my house.
Drama. How did I do? I have twisted the fingers to Fantozzi? How should I know? Never missed a phone number? (Yes I know, I mean Once, back when you type and the headings were not used exclusively, those over 30 years knows what I'm talking about). Panico. Mario sinks its claws into my shoulder. Then I see the legendary linkin: "User Profile". I click, open, correct it. Ah. I feel better. All right.
Nonsense. The inexorable imbecility automated gear now has set in motion, it's like an avalanche, is the Wehrmacht of online sales. Two days later I receive an email that tells me that the flight has departed, € 23.28 mark. To the wrong address. And then you need to edit your profile? What is the profile itself? And my identity on the red couch-CheGuevara de laFeltrinelli? Oh God, I more my identity, I'm a guy who does not know who lives somewhere else ...
Patience. The package has started, is "in transit" with the SDA. The status of the package has something latin, "in transitum, even metaphysical. E 'bundle Shroedinger, that is not alive or dead, is in transit, so it's alive and dead at the same time (until you open it and check the cat, and here we get only those who have studied physics, that is, virtually none of the My generation, including in later).
not giving up. I have evolved. I am a homo sapiens sapiens . Did you know that we have two sapiens? You too, not just me. We are twice sapiens. I type, ergo sum. Seeking toll of SDA, which is written in green but it costs 14 cents per minute with no connection fee (and why is it green? Will be catalytic). Calling. Listening to the infamous album that tells me that my personal data we do their cocks and that is why I have to type one, for the two, and so on up to three-digit numbers. The customer service is not provided, the menu that looks more like me know to be automated. But I'm sapiens sapiens, and so defeat the machines: the secret to fight the menu choice is to give answers to fuck, provided that the following is inconsistent with the foregoing, at the end of the disc does not know to get on and you download an operator (not a coincidence that one, he, the only one). Getting there is the discovery of El Dorado, who only has a small inside Vin Diesel succeeds.
I explain to the young lady that my package is in a state of quantum transienza and intend to correct the number, so hand him over to me and not anyone else, it seems logical to me (since they still have to take it) let them know where I am. I assume it is a sapiens sapiens too, so we should be on the same level of development. I said it was not possible.
moment of silence. Fade out. It is not possible. By now the train has left, goes to the ravine, but we can not warn the driver it is better to slow down, you can not. So, as if that makes sense. I begin to think that the chick is only sapiens once. I say, you did not understand a shit, but I'll re-explain as if you were a chimpanzee. This time course. It tells me that if the carrier does not find me, I do not have to worry about, leave a note. I ask you to those who leave, if it arrives at another. He tells me, the hole or on the intercom. I ask you, who saw the intercom that there is my name. She seizes, scrape off the clutch gear changing to the brain (I assume is trying to enter the small, such as lorries Om than once), he said, "The step assistance." That is the jingle from the limbo of lift, in this case a horrifying strummed piano projected at a level that breaks through the skull to me. No one answers for several minutes, then drops the line. But I'm
sapiens sapiens. Do not give up. LaFeltrinelli idiot, idiot laSignorina SDA, there is still hope that the messenger, perhaps abbruttito by the activity of individual laborers and certainly not a nuclear scientist, but probably shrewd enough to know how to avoid a wasted effort, at least sapiens once. Despite the snow and two degrees below zero, walking up to house number wrong that I have indicated (mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!) And stuck with eight layers of tape a sign A3 that is 42 cm to 29 point seven, with text on top "for the SDA" printed in arial black-body 42. The sign, visible from the satellite as is evident, indicating that I do not live to 37 but at 33, and that there was a regrettable error. The difference in topographical terms, is two hundred meters, like salmon going up the same road. Not knowing when the carrier goes, I can not go to another station under house for a couple of days in the snow and below zero Celsius, so in order to avoid the scimpacorriere to return a second time on the moors where I live, I suggest politely and politely (and with another pair of-mind) which moves in the direction approximately two hundred meters west, going the same track, as far as trying to find a telephone, my. I think that is enough for any type of sapiens, and also for most primates with opposable thumbs.
error. In the afternoon I'll check and find exactly where my sign, and mail a notice pasted on the wall next to the entrance of this house not mine. It 's been at the time, there was no one (really? Where? Of those who've played at home, or most holy fool, or jedi knight of morons?). Call toll-catalytic to agree the second delivery.
course try your call again, properly tagged with the 3 key my request to speak a form of life evolved about my pack transient. Piano, forteforte indeed, to split the ears for 14 minutes. None. Specifically, a good Italian whining, if I do not answer the phone at work, I'll throw in my face. And if I stop working half an hour before, the chief of staff is personally just breaks your teeth kicked in with the new Clark black suede effect buy in Edinburgh.
The life cycle of crap comes to an end when, exhausted and discouraged, after dinner unloading mail and find an email from my friend tells me that laFeltrinelli, tells us that the courier failed to deliver the package, call the number catalytic to arrange a second delivery, and reminds me that the address Delivery is as follows: the wrong one. Sapiens sapiens are idiot and I find that there is a procedure that normally, if for some reason during a normal delivery do not find me at my house, then with a remind me of my email address. Why, I might have forgotten? I come home from work, parking in a street shit, break through a door and entered the house of another, I put his slippers and I take a beer from his fridge, with him sitting on the couch (purple laFeltrinelli style) looking at me rubbed his corneas?
In the interval of time T, the quantum state of my package has not yet been resolved, there remains a book-particle duality. Shroedinger for President. Assistance SDA is called "assistance" while probably because the phones are ringing, the user is watching a game on TV. The sitodivano de laFeltrinelli is governed by an artificial dementia that makes me fill out a profile that does not use and then reminds me that I live in the house of another. Ionesco would be happy, no Kafka (but only because he was a chronically depressed, deep down like him too).
The Sixth Lesson of the manual, my dear friend you have read this far, probably having fun and giggling behind me as a trickle of drool you down to the dimple of the chin, is this:
(a) Jesus loves you. All others will consider a jerk.
(b) It 's true but the opposite: I believe that because the majority of them is more fool you.
It 's a proven fact that the balls we are one step ahead. For our industry to prevent them, we always fuck in ways that we would not have thought possible, because we reason logically. Our rationality will bury us all, including Shroedinger and her cat. The balls are superior, why do not linger with useless trivia like common sense, accuracy, timeliness, completeness: they do things to fuck, no second thoughts and without looking back, and while we take on ourselves looking for turnaround perfect circularity of our own belly button, they go ahead, we stand out a couple of sticking, and are already doing more damage in there, where no homo sapiens sapiens has gone before, and when we take if inevitably come to that place, because before him there's been a asshole.
It's been one in every place, real or figurative, in which we can think of us, whatever we do, one of them has already made the cock without the possibility of remedy.
Darwin was right survives the fittest, and the most suitable is that it slams the other peacefully and the meaning of things, and pulls straight on his way. The balls have a higher life form. They are the next evolutionary step, the future is already here today. We survive because if they fuck, indeed not even realize it. For them the shortest route between point A and point B is the ball, while we kill for straight lines.
are everywhere around you, dear reader, but especially behind you. Watch out behind.
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