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Oh wells, here I go again.
-First kiss: I was 13 and it was a bet. Oh well, how romantic you say.
-First pet: Joc, my dog, he was there before I was born and became my BFF till the last of his days. Best. Dog. Ever.
-First impression of SL: "What a f*cking clumsy piece of sh*t". Literally
-First car: I've had none of my own yet, tho I have license. To kill, if I drive one now.
-First thing I cooked: It was nothing remarkable as I can't remember it now. Rice, or an omelette, perhaps. I really don't know.
-First lay: Seventeen. There was drugs and a bathroom involved. The rest is history.
-First RL crush: She was a redheaded friend of mine since kindergarten till I was twelve. Changing city of residence fucked it all.
-First SL crush: a mad and dorky american in her thirties. I don't want to talk to her now, though.
Kay, I've been tagged by Kissey so I can't take revenge on her. I'll just pick 9 random names. If you're on the list, you're scre.. tagged.
It happens!
Land of Red Chili Pepper, Bogra City. Thousands of workers are working in the field of red chili pepper everyday.
Generates a completely random number from 0 to 99. Good for games and decision making for the indecisive
Casting about at breakfast time for something to read as I ingested my Tesco Porridge with Sultana and Apple, I reached ...as one does... for a volume of the Encyclopædia Britannica. I opened the great tome at random and found myself reading the article on Paul Verlaine (1844-96), the French Symbolist poet. Apparently, after his release from prison, where he had served a two-year sentence for firing a revolver at, and slightly injuring, Arthur Rimbaud, Verlaine came to this village, Stickney, in Lincolnshire, to work at the school as a teacher of French.
It was one of those snippets of information that make you sit up with a jolt. It's the incongruity of it ...the juxtaposition of the familiar and the exotic. Can it really be? Verlaine, with his great domed brow, strolling here, frock-coated, where the serried wheelie bins await collection and phone cards may be topped up at the eight 'til late shop? Since Verlaine's time (1875) the village has been greatly enlarged with bungalows and council houses. Apart from the parish church and two or three cottages, little remains that those extraordinary amygdaloid eyes would have seen.