A post with a title like that would be a great thing to be non-bed. But aware that because it's Christmas, many will forgive me, I will continue this tedious panegyric. In the absence of teleportation or divine gift of ubiquity, thanks to the power of web media, let me bring together in one embrace all my fellow travelers. Will be the map of mistletoe hanging over my head like a sword of Damocles that opens my cuoricione ancient, but suddenly a sense of joy comes over me. And then I kiss on the head puffed Angelino, I suggest something in the excellent "The Hills" Colletti (at the risk of my safety), which beats with renewed pride in the name of MILANEEEEEEEESI, which tickled her cheeks crimson with passion of Dr. Cannistrà disdain that shamelessly (but with the rhyme) the shady activities of the duo-Bocchia Cilo, who greet you with a "NIETO VODKA" Tortoreto the Ukrainian, who revere the irrepressible Mozzetti that apostrophe with a sumptuous ASTRONZIIIIIII wonders of the quintet-Fares-Pezzuco Iacono-handle- joints (I still love you guys), who rails against the North Ridge Forrester in Rome that Dr.. Battaglia. Of course continue ad libitum but redundancy of relative clauses, is giving me the head. There would be one for everyone, but in the end I can say that I admire a lot more others not specified above that these four filibusters. You mean that you have your head on your shoulders. Now excuse me, but I run away. Is going to go in the TG wave Old Life. An incubation. Merry Christmas ... and I recommend it. Who wants it, let him!
