I often, very often, to disappear from circulation. It's not a decision taken at the table, the kind that when you hold someone's hand and say "goodbye eh? Soon made to feel" think "or even ever," and substituting the name on the phone with "not responding".
No no.
... at least not always.
Really. Everyday life takes me. Not that I complain of trantran day: I like to do the wife and I need to work, if there was trouble.
But it happens that evening comes and while I'm on the couch (a little 'exhausted and a bit' sleepy) I think I hear Tom and Dick have long since lost track, and I cry my heart.
Yesterday I heard one of these friends, one of the CaII Tizi not in the sense that I know where to find him but he was in the "list of the couch night" for some time without the check box marked. And last I checked.
I hate those that disappear just like me, then, that I should call them and say, "Of course you're just a good friend! You have not done more to hear. "
... No one with an ounce of common sense, but above all with a private life, fuck the neighbor about this topic: What, you have a system that will house maid while you scratch the family jewels on the sofa? work in their spare time? Orders evening of pizza and Chinese ones even? not sleep? No shit? Do not you brush? (the wash maybe we would have to publish a separate post) Or maybe
you're so on the next ball to the point find yourself face to face with the television every night, single family home waiting for you?
The dearest friend that I heard yesterday is not to be counted in the category above: indeed, apologized for being gone, and we used to race on the phone who apologized more. No blowjob mind as to why I have not written / call / message etc. ... No excuse to be invented in the long run period ("I had a contagious herpes").
There is no doubt: it is between those who feel more happy, but unfortunately rarely.
It annoys me to hear the other end of the phone or read e-mail as they bitch for not having anticipated your call, but call me if you do then after that I said you rode well chiccherone? Let me call myself, a year or even 10, and take the pleasure of being pampered, thought, love ... but not poison!!
the list of the couch I have a lot of names: some hope to tick soon.
the blog Memories of Red Fish 
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