Does Kate Ground Really Have A Hoof

Domestic violence

I think I dream a little, but I feel that if I pretended to be a battered woman, you could almost believe me. Far be it from me to pretend, especially since I do not know who accuse [irony] otherwise, OBVIOUSLY, I do not deprive myself of doing [/ irony]. I say this because there are tangible evidence. I am far from living dangerously, but I am covered in bruises, small scars, and burns (this is not an announcement of the plan).

I do not know how I'm doing, but I hit anywhere, anytime. We can not yet say that I have a disproportionately large and bulky body. And yet ... My feet too often meet those tables, chairs and beds. My legs get caught in all sorts of improbable things, from the vacuum cleaner hose to the window washer. My Hips stumble on tables, desks, countertops and bedside tables. I even managed to make me a blue on the back of the hand after being violently meet my metacarpal and the corner of a bistro table (fasting). Bottom line: It does not go a day without my bruised more or less small, more or less numerous, but present. It really classes. Now I ride my bike, I enrich my collection of blue: to stand with my tibia makes me blue, even deouceur and through my boots and jeans. EU, I know, is not Princess and the Pea wants, it takes skills to sacred ...

Scars ben ... Finally, I will not tell you about my intimate life of the body. But under my false complaint of violence home, I still provide new evidence. Namely hole in my thigh (where I really began my stats with a few words, life is magical). I have a real hole in my left thigh true. A hole dug in the acid. Here, immediately, my false complaint takes on a dramatic, no? You do not start finding myself a little something of the burnt Souad (the link is just for you situiez, not for you to buy, "I'm not mad you know")? If you want to simulate a domestic violence on an innocent thigh, the method is simple: make a long car trip and leave your old walkman with old batteries installed on your thighs. If you're lucky, you'll feel a little vague net cash flow from your Walkman. Because you're L terminal, you do not understand what is happening (yes, I'm sure I would have responded faster if I had listened to my maths teacher of a second and I had chosen S . ... Like what what it is life, huh Maurice!). Because you do not understand and you do not see something convincing, you reject your Walkman. Shortly after, it starts to burn severely. After 6 hours of road regulations, well, you have a hole in the thigh. If you also did L and want to understand is simple: the battery was seasick and vomited while his four-hour and then my jeans on my skin. I do not know what is in the batteries, but it made craters in the skin. I think I beat Souad not, with this horrendous history of violence in modern societies over-Technology Driven?

As for burning, it's simple: I can not do absolutely NOTHING if the resistance of my oven rushes on my hands when I open the door fronting the same (the oven). The left hand has all the favors of Icel (resistance). Frankly, in my false complaint, I think I could pass it to cigarette burns, applied to a few carefully centimères difference from each other, everywhere. God thank you, I still have my Balm Pyrenees at hand burned. In the fridge door, to be precise, it relieves more. The only problem is that I never did write Pyrenees since elementary school. I begin to know the Mediterranean, the Pyrenees but I can not. Must necessarily go on Wikipedia to be sure. So if you like, it's the last time I speak of the Pyrenees and its balm.

So basically, I like the blues if I was doing freestyle all 4 mornings, scars as if I owned an old, and burns as if I did not put oven gloves before plunging my hands into the oven on the grounds that it makes me all over. The question is: my complaint of domestic violence is admissible?

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"What a feeling!" Teasing

Ben here tonight, that's all I want to say: "What a feeling" ...

Irene Cara-What a feeling (flashdance)
sent erwan951

Streching Female Labia

Right now, I do not tell my life because my life is to make the right consular and cleaning. And I think that in these cases, you prefer that I abstain.

Well, to be honest, I also spent the weekend preparing Christmas gastronomically speaking: I did nothing but eat, that history can train my stomach gently to what awaits him next week. Cétait really pre-Christmas since I was selected by the mother of two childhood friends to come and test meal on Christmas Eve. I agreed for the whole menu. And Sunday, we were eating the meatballs with my aunt. In fact, if There were only pellets, it would have been widely, but there were lots of things I forgot the name, type a tagine with prunes, mashed sweet potatoes, artichokes and many other things . Yum (even if I thought I would explode).



The next time I get a little time, I'll explain why I am a girl "in fact".

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Relax ... take it easy! Season 2

Well, if you're like me and you wait for the results of ENA that fall today, I suggest you listen a little. Already I'm excited like a chip since this morning when I'm indirectly concerned, I imagine the state of those who are for real.

a deep breath and sings with conviction as you "relax, take it easy ... for There Is Nothing That We Can Do!".

MIKA - Relax, Take It Easy
sent by Mika-official

PS / if you have the heart flutters because you expect the results of the ENM or the INET , clicks and you will know they have been online longer (at least 2 days, say).

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YOUHOUUUUU Future Papa , here we go again! And this time, it will be for four hands. Cool!

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Ca, this, this ... and then that too.

hard to find a common thread between:

- Kierkegaard's death yesterday morning, surrounded by his family (well, what of his own, me). While Vilnius was tenderly buried together in the garden of worldly Sciences Po, Kierkegaard has joined the sewers of Paris. Fortunately he was not there to be himself ...

- the lack of response to this fundamental question that tortured me all day, day in a library that has more heat from 2 weeks so cold, "but why am I shivering?". I thought I had made arrangements this morning, pulling a big turtleneck wool sweater, wool vest, a pashmina graaaaaaaaand and - glamorous detail - tights under my jeans. Even with all that and my winter coat, I was deeply frozen. But WHY the girls are not irrigated they like everyone else? " Finally, like the boys, what ... At the same time, all the girls are not cold-blooded snakes like me, since one of them had a dress-cotton vest with nothing underneath (worn with rubber boots, for details). I checked, it was not just to entice the studious student, she had not the least creepy, then he must do within 15 °, for frozen feet. It is the infusions of boiling water?

- today I felt very distinctly a boy scented toilet water " Fishing Provence" by Yves Rocher. I would pass on the choice of Yves Rocher, after all, everyone's life. I myself have worn this fragrance for several months, absolutely delighted and proud of this gift fââââââââmme that my cousin gave me for my eleventh birthday. I guess I'll go for a big snob (but at the same time, yes, I am a perfume snob: If a young Water does not cost the same price as Guerlain, not just to pay the music of Muse in the pub), but past 13 years, the fact that average. Better to feel good than bad soap sober cheap perfume. Well, all that to say, "Yes, I consider myself fairly open on gender issues, but there I was still surprised at this choice after all, very feminine. I suspect in fact his girlfriend wanted to have marked his territory. Certainly with such a wake, it is unlikely many titillate. But if a free and individual choice, it reaches one goals of any large nose to one that is unforgettable fragrance.

- I'll take a vow of silence. It must stop talking in society, I'm too gaffes. People do nice things - even lovable - to please me, and I in 3 words destroy all their efforts. While I'm not talking about THEIR nice things, of course, except I'm the only one to know, and they take it logically for them. It started at the birthday party of my 8 years with all my girlfriends. When unpacking my last gift, I said distinctly "OHLALA, I hope it is not YET a pen!" (Ah yes, this is a comment Menace spoiled rotten, but in my defense, I had already received 2 pens as gifts in the same afternoon). And naturally, the last gift was a pen. In addition, it was a very nice pen. Chris was crestfallen, I was in my tiny shoes. I was telling her a lot of times it made me very happy, it was definitely hurt, and it is easily understood. I thought that with time I know to be reasonable enough to control the flow of words leaving my throat, but apparently not. Two magnificent blunders in its kind in 10 days, with people who I just want to say sincerely THANK YOU. And I think that this is not the message they have learned.

Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you how it feels when I go in the evening.

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To start the week

I know, normally on Monday, people are supposed to work and be full of motivation. So it is not the time to entertain you, and I have done that yesterday. But I did something yesterday, so I did not have time, then so what if I am temporarily down your productivity earlier this week.

I strongly encourage you to take a turn at Kittyface . Kittyface is a young modern woman, recounting his adventures as a young modern woman with a few pencil strokes: the girls' night nerds who always degenerate, the effect of celibacy on the Amazon, the box set of boys, among other things.

In addition, if you want your work before the LV3 tank, go ahead. Kittyface is indeed a blog-designed bilingual French-English, which undoubtedly helps combine business with pleasure by learning to say "Prince Charming" in the language of Prince Philip.

The only criticism we can do to make us Kittyface is hanging around a long time between two stickers. At the same time, when you have a busy life, it is difficult to drawings every day to tell her hectic life ...


As a happiness never comes alone, Kittyface does not draw, she also writes with other girls-ette (Tiny, Poulette Fadette and Mimolette) on the blog infiltrate soft .

The soft infiltrates, a philosophical concept record in which I recognize myself easily, and I'll let you discover those explained by having developed.

It talks about girl stuff so often caustic, it tells the hilarious slices of life (the life of a soft infiltrates is full of things unexpected and unsuspected for hard cores), that develops science concepts relevant under the guise of games tendentious word black (the attitude of "mi-mi-whore subject" of the dredger which does not, for example). You will discover how to find soft infiltrates without the knowledge of his own volition in a box swinger ( nothing like the juicy details to Apate shawl, it almost seems that I made a u Co and / or I'm working at TF1 ).

Well, I say no more, it could ruin the suspense ... Will soon discover "the lives of five softies be proud of," starting with the first posts chronologically, otherwise it will be difficult to understand their speech peppered with "spaghetti", "front" or "merdocu" that take a direction parallel!

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Besides that

I think I can say publicly without her mad and humiliated here: I got a new girlfriend. Said like that, you might think it is an achievement, so I think I can modestly say that I am not a bear antisocial unable to establish contact with my neighbors. However, since I did not even have time to see my friends already existing, or so little, I do not feel the need to necessarily make me new.

Except that good, I'm so anti-bear that I really need a basic minimum of human contact in the day. And lately, I found it hard to fulfill my daily quota of chatter. The joy of repetition is indeed to be a friend without Remi.

Last year, I knew I would end up in amphi Alfonso, Leonie and Gerard, which I always looked forward to the highest point, even if it were a course in public finance. Obviously, my friends do not have these names, just to give a little living in this description. And then I have a little more than 3 friends, I want to emphasize. Brief. These contacts with the human world were one hand absolutely necessary for my personal development, and also very useful to motivate me to go to class.

This year's contest was Alfonso, Leonie revises her and Gerard threw in the towel. Now I need to see when I arrive in the library at Sciences Po warm, smiling faces and friendly. Otherwise, I stay at home, and I work less well.

My new girlfriend is in the same situation as me. With it, we can talk about the nomenclature M14 just before wondering if "Starak is really at all this year or if it's just that we get older." It suits me very well. If

it was a romantic relationship, I think I would say that "it all goes a bit faster", since we had already spent a whole day together from morning till night, finishing with a wonderful drive-McDonald ( Fatih Akin's latest, Across , which I recommend) on leaving the course. But as this is not a romantic relationship and that I am "just" a girlfriend - the "right" is important ("this is a private joke in rural socialized, it is unbearable." Figure it!), While goes well, and she will not run away the next time she is telling me engagemento-phobic.

All that to say that on Friday, between classes, weary of sandouiches Crous, it has offered a treat: a real lunch break. The real lunch break is distinguished from the false lunch by:
- a quiet and plaisible, relaxing, and roof of the roof, heated
- a correct and balanced breakfast, which lasts more than 6 minutes 21 (including coffee )
- a real coffee did not taste like plastic powder

We found that Lina's was a perfect place to meet these requirements. I've set foot for the second time in my life, and I do not regret it. Ciabatta grilled figs, goat-speck, arugula is divine, not to mention their tiramisu with mango and spiced. Naturally, this is not the same price as the Crous. But on leaving Lina's, I felt like I really have a break in my day, which has (almost) no price.

I think I'll stop Pringles to make a transfer of funds to spending post Lina's (of course credits that Pringles are fungible within the program "Power"). Yes, I just revised my Public Finance and I love the show ...

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Welcome!

Welcome to those who arrive here via the site For girls (and thank you to the person who referenced me there!) and site of Aude Nectar Net .

The first is one of these now classic community site where girls get together to chat, and offers a directory of blogs girl " selected based on the quality of their content " (no, I do the fart, it's the site says).

On the second, you will find the selection of Aude, who chooses among other excerpts from the blog to discover all those for whom "blogosphere" is like the name of a world of manga. As I am a bit long to relax, as I write this post Now, while this post had the honor of being selected last November 23 to enrich the nectar of Aude. A big thank you to delay! And why not go for a ride home to fatten up a little more your Netvibes ;-)

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be or not to be romantic

One day, I was told "ah, but in fact, you're not at all a romantic you !. All because I said I hated Cyrano de Bergerac. At the same time, it's not true. I tend to be more of a romantic day (a concept I will explain one day but probably not today, because there, I have lots of things to do). Nevertheless I think I found my master in anti-romanticism.

Y has that will pretend that I'm obsessed with Joe Dassin, but for once, it's not my fault. Imagine that yesterday, someone fell on my blog by searching for "Vincent + The woman con Delerm waiting."

As everyone knows (but if you have to follow the news sometimes philosophical) The flower in his teeth, a hymn to "the woman was expected," was echoed by Delerm and Katerine. If you do not know the original, the chorus says:

"There are girls you dream
And those with whom one sleeps
There are girls who And those who regret
leave remorse
There are girls that we love
And those that would have loved
Then one day ago the woman was expected
"

I'm not romantic, but anyway, I find it awfully pretty as a statement. So when it becomes the story of an idiot hanging around which makes me very sad ... The original

Joe Dassin - the flower in his teeth

The revisited

The flower in his teeth and Katerine Delerm

Cleaninga White G-shock

But what do the police? A mini-

The hour is grave. I did some sociological observations in the locker room for sports. My observations have failed to win a new dimension, because I quite invonlontairement, confused the locker room men and women. Really, there should be signs on the doors ...

Well, I quickly regained my territory, red with confusion and scared that no one believes in my innocence. And I saw a surprising number of young women more or less unaware of the sports bra. Is there no circular from the Ministry of the Interior, no EU directive to make use of this essential accessory? [Attention then deviates a little "girl blog, you will be warned]

I know, I do actually watch very little. But I'm scared to see that some have absolutely no consciousness of what they inflict on their bodies in an hour of treadmill. So I feel with a mission of general interest sponsored by the European lobby of sports bra.

A bra suitable costs 25 € and it is the life of your breasts, name of Artemis polymastros ! Even the happy owners of small breasts may end up miserably as described by Zola in Germinal , that is to say " breasts on his stomach and belly on the thighs .

If you do not believe me, I encourage you strongly to go for a ride in the Rolls Royce of sports bra, Shock Absorber. You will find here a fascinating exercise simulation, depending on your size and sport. This should convince all those who are convinced that their lingerie is usually just fine for their meeting bi-weekly step or jog.

I agree, the sports bras are far to be sexy. But washcloths in a set Chantal Thomass either ...


(If with that, I can not a day to convince a jury of my innate sense of public service and public interest ... )

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Stabilo Boss, this is not always the worst

Sonia star blogs comes to tell full episodes of one of his adventures with a man with a mini-Stabilo Boss in the pants. Said like that, it may seem either funny or vulgar. Of course, as always with Sonia, it's filled with humor and self-deprecating, but not vulgar (at the same time, it depends where your tolerance the things of sex on a public space).

So his story is very funny, but I think in reality it was not funny at all, this episode of his life. Not because of Stabilo mini-boss, but I'm not saying because of what not to ruin the zouzpense reading. So if you want to read the story of Sonia, go there now (they are the tickets from November 12 to 30) and come back here to read (well I do not command eh, you do what you want after all).

So if you followed my advice firm and polite, you now know what is going on. So I want to ask you a question: "How is it then possible ? "Sonia, I do not know, but I'm absolutely sure she is beautiful, smart, independent, cultured and all that makes her a modern woman. And I'm always saw how some men come to rot even girls like that. For, despite appearances, is more common than we think.

There, I think very hard on one of my friends - of course beautiful, intelligent and adorable on-- owl whose lover has succeeded in a few years to convince her she was a guinea uninteresting whose abysmal lack of culture in society troubled him. So he avoids to introduce his friends because it might embarrass him. If I say that's true, it's a girl who had the NAS, you will not believe me. At the same time, he does not like she sees her friends to her because, well, should not she have a life outside of it ... However, she knows very well ironed shirts, so it would be nice if it could do so more often.

Obviously, from the outside, when we hear things like that, it screams. But what is incredible and very disturbing is that we do realize anything when you are directly affected by this kind of relationship. Or you realize, but we can not leave. These girls, all they are great, no longer believe in themselves and in their ability to be loved, so they remain. The strongest is that their guy gets to that whatsoever that they are ashamed of their situation. As a friend, I feel completely powerless in this situation.

There are probably some nasty manipulative as destructive, but I have not encountered any man so broken by his girlfriend that he preferred not to leave because it was convinced it was the last person able to bear it. This pattern, I did so far been confronted because he was receiving friends right in. or bloggers returned from afar. So, I tend to think that this behavior is an aberration rather male, and that works better on women than men.

This post has no moral or conclusion. There are too many questions and misunderstandings on my side. However, I am taking any miraculous solution.

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WonderCoco

Oops, she did it again! Fitting Camille began to take me for a target (easy) so I tell my life superhero. The problem is that I lack imagination, hampered in the exercise of my unbounded admiration for Wonderwoman, who rocked my childhood. But the goal is not to speak of what exists, but inventing. So I'll try ...

What would your superhero nickname?

Ben ... WonderCoco in tribute to Lynda Carter

your secret superpower?

Breaking the boys love me just thinking about it (I know, it's a very selfish superpower, but we must think of oneself from time to time)

Your distinctive combination and accessories?

I hesitate between a sublime black sheath dress is transformed into ultra-comfortable combination when I should go into action, and a pink cape glitter. I think I'll stay on the dress fourrreau, history keep up appearances of good taste.

Your motto is fly when you triumph of the super villains?

"Hinhin,'d have never thought I'll catch you with my heels, eh? Soooo BEN!" (The important element is the "well if" end of course)

What would you do with your days if you had the power of duplication?

I once again a great friend who would have time to think about birthdays, prepare cakes for tea, to respond to emails and support those in need, while working non-stop for me.

Your daily struggle to save humanity?

I try to piss off the other little as possible, in every action I undertake.

What would you if you had the power to read minds of your boss?

"But why have I refused his application?" (So from one who refused to become my boss)

Your Achilles Heel?

I can not bear to not love me. Even from people I do not appreciate.

Which superhero you wish you had a great adventure?

None. The combination leaves me full of marble molding. Dr. Mamour count?

At what time would you like teleport?

Ben, how can I know if it is better before or after that date, since I have seen neither the one nor the other?! Ok, let's say Berlin in the 20s.

I know this has neither head nor tail, there is no logical connection between my temporary transportation in Berlin and my pink cape, nor between my motto and my powers. I'm a bad super-heroine, it seems ...

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In-ad-mis-sible

Oulalalala, I'll get back to bitching at once, because sometimes in life you should know that when we are sick, are not always Malabar. Now, this is unacceptable.

Obviously I am not talking about the fact that arriving at a course with 10 minutes in advance will allow more, nowadays, to have a table and a chair as overcrowding potesque-science is important. This is inadmissible, it's normal. And after all, have his computer on his knees yoga position is well known for easy note taking and assimilation of knowledge.

Obviously, I do not mean that, for some unknown reason, my review of Saturday morning (8:00 on Saturday morning, the accuracy is important) will not take place at Sciences Po, but ... Arcueil-the-atmosphere. In itself, Arcueil, not death. But on Saturday morning at 8am for an optional exam, it began considerably motivation (mine anyway). This relocation is unacceptable is for our benefit: we leave Paris to breathe some clean air campaign to oxygenate our brains.

however, that the recipe for panini with 4 cheeses at Crous has changed, replacing the pie (nothing better than melted camembert) by Cow-who-laughs, that's WRONG ...

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I know, this blog would be funny if I told you about my sex life. And yet, it is not safe. Let's say if I wrote tickets at least occasionally, it would be nice.

For now, I try to mobilize all my motivation to work. Let me tell you that I working hard for little, because the motivation, it has done little pschitt.

Just place a real normal weekend to realize that making a prepena is really having a life of con. I thought I could maybe try not to work on weekends this year. But that does not solve the problems of systematic gallops on Saturday morning, which tend to spoil alone on weekends.

Just watch a few transcripts of friends to realize that these competitions do not follow any logic and the work is not necessarily the key to success. My own case is not that I can analyze with more objectivity (even if I find, as objectively as possible, strange to have 3.5 in a matter where I have not had any less than 12 year). But I know that among my friends, had every chance to really get it, and the final scores well rotted, and even worse than last year. I know we can have the same material 15 a year, and 6 year Next, all having acquired more knowledge and method. I know you can miss a contest a few hundredths. I know we can be on the waiting list one year and not even eligible for the following year. I know the work is only half the results, and that's depressing.

Just watch some oral ENA to say that the written tests do not always select the best. To preserve the anonymity of candidates and avoid getting lynched publicly, I will not dwell on the subject, but I came away scared of what I saw and heard. I know Stress makes people stupid, my first (like forgetting to transient as the name of Pope Joseph Ratzinger). But stress is part of the rules of the game, and there are still limits to the limits not to exceed, but not. I had the impression that plunged a dagger into the heart for 2 times 30 minutes, and I could not help but think "why all this" ...

Apart from that, I'm not at all depressed. I do not depress, I gland. It's different. Next time I will respond to people who want me to tell them my life superhero, and I spell my name.

It's far from my sex life with all that, I agree. At the same time, Marie-Chantal said it well: you can not kiss and cooking. Now I just put online a new recipe .

(I know, the moral of the story is elliptical and has nothing to do with sauerkraut. Problem overall motivation. Including to find an end to this insane ticket oh so delightful)

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Yeah I feel good that you'll have to beware

Solution ease when you do not have time to write movies. I know it's cowardly, but good.

Today, without fear and without reproach, I will speak to Salvatore Adamo. And that's where you start to distrust and I lose the little respect I enjoyed music so far in your eyes.

Yes but no. Because Adamo, which I also love the period "You let" and "Let your hands on my hips (and I assume) is now someone who sings with the musicians who made Bénabar duets with Olivia Ruiz. At this stage, it is not recycling, it's just "cap" (I'm phrases that mean nothing if I want, I'm sure you do your wrong-headed and in reality you have understood).

In order of appearance:

- "You let Mr." version with choreography and multinational to envy Kamel Ouali

- "Let your hands on my hips" bizarrely fast, giving a voice to Salvatore Adama ridiculous castrato speaking of the nose (but I have not found better)

- " Coward "and" My neighbor on the Moon ", two extracts from his album Zanzibar, one recorded with musicians Bénébar. Extract the best according to me is "Sweet", but impossible to find.

- her duet "The George" with Olivia Ruiz

Adamo - You let Mr.

Adamo - My hands on your hips

Metalic Taste In My Mouth From The Mirena?

explain

Well, when I write a note, it is frankly not push the door, but when I do nothing more ponds for days due to overbookage There is a tidal wave of readers. Nan but tell him, hey, if you prefer that I gland. No, I do not mind but I try to understand you, that's all.

Apart from that, I discovered the joys of Paris by bike. Last week was a little (much) time before Christmas in my head. My parents gave me an old bike so I can resist and prove that I exist despite the strike. And frankly, I was as excited as if Father Christmas had brought me a tricycle pink sequins. I wanted to try it immediately in the courtyard of my building. In short, it was great.

My dad has been tinkering full desssus, and me, I did "MacGyver assitante of" business as (my best role). He said "O" and I handed him the joint. He says "screwdriver blue" and I said "well no I have not, it is in your pocket." He handed me a saw, and I let it fall between my fingers, so after we searched everywhere to find the wicked squat fled. You see, we had a good laugh.

He put a nice basket in front, he made a complete overhaul, it has moved the bell to make it accessible to a jet of an inch (but since I lost the top of the bell, this that makes it tingle, the fault of a pothole), he offered me a new lock that looks like a Ferrari (gray) and most importantly, especially ... a fluorescent yellow jacket with reflective strips for them to see me at night. There are a few things I want to live before they end up like a pancake. With such equipment, I started.

The first time I thought it was awesome bike. It was fine, the bus lanes were all mine, and I gained a lot of time.

The second time, I discovered that bike, I could not take the same road on foot. After 5 way streets, I managed to turn right. Before falling back on a new set of turn restrictions. After 4 way streets, I was completely lost. I took 45 minutes to return home, although I had needed just 10 minutes for the round. I looked in my returning journey, and I made a beautiful snail to get my point.

The third time, I had to face the fact that the life of cyclist was significantly less enjoyable without bus lane. There are cars that scream in my tires because I stubbornly refused to go rolling all along the road there in the gutter where there are all the dead leaves that are wet-scouitch scouitch flip-gliiiiiiss (I know, I'll damn well the onomatopoeia of the sheet). Before boarding really on a bike in Paris, I was terrified of motorists, convinced they would not hesitate to run over me. The truth is that the most dangerous are:
- other cyclists ("uh ... you want us to hand over the little wheels you there or what?")
- scooters (I think they revenge fish tails of motorists doing the same thing for cyclists: it is the smallest of all someone)
- and pedestrians (if you do not risk hurting them, ranafoute to look before crossing).

The fourth time, I realized that cycling at night and in rain, activity is much less fulfilling than expected.

Still, I think I am conquered by the bicycle I no longer expect the bus and I put half the time to get to class. But it will still have to solve some small problems I:
- find a new bell (who would play Aretha Franklin, it would be nice)
- run my generator does not always hit the wheel
- find where to put my computer to that it is safe and does not stream forth out of the basket in the first speed bumps
- how to reconcile our biking and skirt