In public places I tend to familiarize with other women, here is one of the possible dialogues between a stranger and me as we queued for two ounces of ham:
- Are you single?
- No, I live with Hal 9000.
- And who would?
- Do you own this 2001 Space Odyssey? That 's what the wretched waking hibernation on the ship. Sleep in the sense of ... funeral because they took out all three. But that will never be. As they say: a dead pope if he makes another. And, here in Italy, the popes are not lacking.
- Indeed. And physically it is?
- Oh, no, no I can tell, is a matter of privacy! Watch if not I can really most of these intrusions into the private sphere of good people, here.
- Sorry, I did not think it was a state secret.
- Of course it is. It 's like if I asked you if you put garlic in the meatballs to the mortadella. They are personal choices about.
- Ah ...
- only I can give you information: I live with someone who has a mania to keep the air conditioner in freezer mode.
- Poor.
- Exactly. I put the ski suit every time I go on the sea ice to make the bed. Of course, just lies down, he discarded it in a second agitated between the sheets and begging: "Did you remember to buy the ice?"
- And you?
- I am not able to respond because I nailed the jaw by a stroke.
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