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Summary of the results by this trio infernally:

The former Miss Wonder, the Jockette was everything should win in Germans Horse- Riding-Sport, today he is not even to be found under the top 200 on the ranking list of the DfVR.

According to IFAHR she is registered in 2008 with two starts (prize money 1,250€!!!) registers.  If she were probably been better would have concentrated upon the career.  Pity around the litte girl....

 
Now, the Horse-Whisperer also has no luck, he has not much better.

 He neither was not anywhere to be as owner or breeder, nor is one of his horses mentioned.

Garrison Savannah Statistics
2009
Top 10 year to date in each category
Up to and including February 24, 2009

  One victory (May 2008) with 3 horses that's really scraping the barrel now!

Particularly if one thinks, the Zin. with thus brag has, that the nags will soon go to the money.

But, now the priorities of the” new management “might lie in other activities

In addition, the third person in this ugly history blurs hectically her tracks on the Internet, she forgets that they are there always and everywhere and with every pitching name, every homepage and the traces of her, in the Erotic-Chats and Dating Pages, always shall be found.

www.joyclub.de

 After the sex immediately in the bath?

fairhie 21st of July, 2008

and above all: For what?... there would be absent me a lot.  Sometimes I go even with his dry sperm in the neck, low neckline or somewhere else... to go shopping, or we to pace for supper.  Some cashier may already have asked herself what uses I probably for* damaged Body milk *s *

 Joking aside.  I do not feel me "dirtily" for it and we love to fall asleep so, or to cuddle still long.  For me this would take a lot from the intensive closeness, if one of us fell in the bath to wash to this what we have found before it so cool.
P.S.: but it not in such a way that we nevertheless daily do not take a shower *s*


The primitive character of a tatterdemalion reveals itself only, when he has come into a little money.

 

 

 

CaroLI and CornRI, the twosome on BTC, in November 2007







http://www.razyboard.com/system/user_erlkoenig.html

fairhie

 Status: Off-line

Registered since: 10/30/2005

Contributions: 1284

News send

 Provided in the 8/31/2006 - 19:05

 THURSDAY,

7:15 o'clock:

 Jeff Buckley wakes up me, as usual, with his divine song "Grace, “from his only official studio CD.A friend of me described Jeff once as a „cabaret singer with penis ".  And when to me shoots as the first thought today tomorrow by the head that a " cabaret singer with penis " is exactly this what I tonight tear open or shop or his would want, there a ray of the morning sun meets me exactly on my left nipple which stands to attention today tomorrow as if she wanted to remind me of something.

 Today tomorrow my manicured, fingers strike me as if they were a present, or yesterday as I would have only bought them.  These, my hands feel for the remote control, which lies under the pale bottom of a sieve ten-year-old.  My God, these young things look spent.  But I envy them her breasts, which look as if God a full week had found time to form them.

 I press the Repeat key of the remote control and in an endless loop Jeff Buckley, murmurs to me his best song in ` see ear and during the text line "...  I'm afraid to die" panic overcomes me because I have not charged the battery of my pocket PC yesterday evening and the data of my project "Phoenix" are not possibly retrievable.

 However, the battery of my pocket PC are charged oddly enough and thus I can also write today tomorrow again these lines in my electronic diary.

My diary!  Why is this so important to me?  - Probably, because I could not remember, otherwise, my life.  - The last night?  - Okay!  (How could I forget a "through-loved" night with Nadine?  - Or is the little one, my silk pillows full-spat, Sabine called?)

 

I am incapable to remember in the day before yesterday.  The day before it ... Was I in a coma there?  - What is with the last week?  - Have I already existed there?  - Why I do not remember this? If I want to know whether I have, one day killed somebody, or was already, married or whether I have one day consumed babies to the breakfast ... I must look up it in my electronic diary to have certainty.

 Okay.

While I stand in the nude before the big panoramic window and write these lines in my pocket PC, I cannot simply resist and must see in the big oval mirror that stands at the side before the panoramic window. I stare at my reflexion.  Like one of "Big Nudes" of Helmut Newton I look.  A gazelle on the jump.  A feeling of the rest flows through me.

 

And then I must give a laugh suddenly loudly because I look, how a naked waitress.  In a slender hand the Pocket-PC, in the others the pencil.  Ready to take up an order.

Behind me, in the mirror, I can see my little one, and I smell, tastes like her young body the smell of distressing dreams lets exude.  From each of her pores and with every breath she tries to separate the demons, which they seem to torment night for night.

My small Nadine ... or Sabine ... or, as usual, they may also be called.  Tomorrow I will have forgotten them, while she feels still always my body on theirs.

When I see again for the clock, it is shortly before eleven.

I come too late to ` see office. Nevertheless, project "Phoenix" will not be already without me loosely fluttered   ?

 

14:30 o'clock:

Now the everyday meeting lasts quite about during 1 century. I am angry because I can do during this time nothing else to grow old as.

 

Igor Spasyk, or Spatik or Spastik (a zero from the task Force department) sits beside me and stares at my legs. I do not know whether I should feel sexy now, or whether I want to stick one to him, or whether I only simply wish the death him, because it is anyhow only one absolutely useless, superfluous being which uses here only valuable oxygen.

Now also point I, why to me Igor stares at the legs. Menstrual blood runs to me in my calves and runs in my shoe.

I frighten unnecessary proofs when to me occurs that I carry today no hygiene bandage. (As well as, without briefs?)

 

The costume which I carry is created for Nadine ` see elegant body like. She looks in it as if a divine breath had laid to her the costume around the tender body.

I feel in the strike towards thing, like a bleeding pig that was narrowly wrapped in adhesive tape. Ready to the butchering. Probably I also look thus.

The costume is sooo briefly ... if I on the light curvature of my belly looks down, I believe to see my Shame hair under the hemline to presharp ones.

 Igor Spastik gawks and gawks as if he never saw a woman having bled. Menstrual blood works apparently unnaturally on Igor. Wolves have probably brought up him.

Before the low level of this meeting can decompose my brain, I flee to the toilet.

 

15:30 o'clock:

The toilet is only five metres away of the conference space. No notion why I have used a full hour on the way to the loo. What have I done on the way? - I estimate, I will be able to read it tomorrow in the newspaper. The headline becomes maybe loud: " Area manager start...  to the way to the loo amok "  I stamp in unnecessary proofs the toilet door.

Irma Heinze, from the Customer service, lies strangely stooped and twists on the ground of the toilet anteroom.

 

When I see disgusted to her gone yellow corsages under the stale dress to presharp ones, I reject the absurd idea; somebody could have violated the old Irma.

I step calmly about them away, full prejoy on the coke with I will lock up me now in a toilet cabin.

 

17:15 o'clock (or thus ...)

I come from the toilet cabin. I have used up all my coke. I have used up all my life, my friends, my lovers ... and everything what was holy to me once.

I feel like a bargain of the Rooting table   and suddenly have desire to let fuck against my will of a horde of wild monkeys.

 

19:00 o'clock (I estimate ...)

Finally, I have found my horde of wild monkeys.

A herd Pseudo-Latinos is lying round around a parked convertible and the types argue about a small blonde who is so insignificant that she looks translucent anyhow and unreal.

Four solarium-browned parcels of fitness studio muscles in Jeans and vests are lying round around the little one and rise, before nothing but masculinity.

 

If are no real Latinos. Turks, or Yugoslav, or little men of Mars in the man-size, brown condoms which are filled with suntanned meat. No German boys. This is already what!

I push as by chance along the power bolt as if there was for me no other way to the other side of the street. I push my bottom in the washbasin one past, while I breathe my sweet breath in ` see face another. My tits touch his tits. And in Nadine ` see to too narrow, too short dripping with sweat-translucent costume I am practically a free game.

However, do these gentlemen have the queuing to violate me right away?

 

20:00 o'clock (I believe ...)

Party time! - I am invited with Sylvia who becomes today her first son bear  .

No, not possibly in a hall of a circle.

Sylvia will throw her small Hybrid in the midst of her new art exhibit. In Dolby surround sound, before tastelessly dressed up audience.

Sylvia is of the opinion; to child wars is performance art!

 

I yawn and wink me by this evening, drink up every glass which I get to catch, while Nadine ` sees costume with my skin seems to grow together.

Very much, very old man stands tottery beside me. (No, I believe, I am it which staggers.)

From the corner of the eye I observe him. He must be at least 200 years old. (Being dinner jacket does not look much younger.) No, the man is quite dead! - But why does he not fall down? And why is his thumb absolutely still between my Arse-cheeks?

 

I smile because I know that I will not remember tomorrow any more this. I smile because me the people stare as if I was quite dead. And now the people ask themselves certainly, why I simply do not fall down where I am quite dead, nevertheless.

I begin to answer a question to a white rabbit, which was never put to me.

Before I can say a tone, I fall down.

 

23:00 o'clock (I take in ...)

I lie in my bed. Nadine `s costume is tearing up. I will wait, until it simply flakes off to me from the body, how autumn foliage. I am not able of something other at the moment anyway. But the waiting is my speciality. Till this day I have waited for the fact that, finally, my life starts. Now I wait only for the fact that, finally, it ends.

 

Friday, 7:15 o'clock:

Jeff Buckley wakes up me, as usual, with his divine song "Grace"...