Workhorse

DeRank : 6,75
DeAge™ : 6948 days • Here since 2 june 2007
Penthouse Apartment Pirlo
Voto:
However, those who hate football are really strange, huh. I don’t know anything about sports and I haven’t watched a match in decades (Euro 2000 or 2002, Portugal-something, only the second half), I don’t even know what Pirlo, Mourinho, and Messi look like, I know a few old footballers thanks to the old videos of "Mai Dire Gol", and when football is discussed, I look at my phone (or listen to vapor). Those who hate football, by golly, as soon as the topic of the ball comes up, they tell you how shit football is, how it’s a shit show, why the players are a bunch of shitbags, oh but do you remember Moggi that time, what a bunch of shit people watch football. Yet, they know what’s happened in the football world at least since 1990 onwards, maybe even Serie B, C1, C2, and promotions. I mean, if I find out that "Striscia la Notizia" makes me sick, I’m not going to look into the last thirty years of programming.
AA.VV Perché Sanremo è Sanremo (sempre)
Voto:
I agree with every word (agreeing with Flaiano is very easy). Now let’s commit to keeping at least the debasio free from these festival nonsense.
Ryan Coogler Creed - Nato per combattere
Voto:
What Geeno said
Earth Sunn Amps and Smashed Guitars Live
Voto:
Succulent. Geometry of Murder I always played on loop.
Orbital Radiccio
Voto:
But you know, I just realized I've never properly heard anything by Orbital except for the last one (I think) Wonky (good)? I think I'll look for this album to start with: I don't know if it's the most suitable, but it has radicchio, so that's fine.
RadioSboro Volume 6: gli albori sel gruppo
Voto:
If someone asked me what Veneto is, I would respond with this
Penthouse Apartment Pirlo
Voto:
WELL, WHAT TO SAY
David Bowie Blackstar
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stampaestera3, the king of the dash, the (white) duke of the comma
Black Tusk Set the Dial
Voto:
Ah yes. As a kid, I broke my arm and before getting it cast, I was forced to lie in bed motionless for three or four days with my arm in traction. On the afternoon of the second day, the nurses consulted about my unpromising condition: I was pale, sweating cold, felt pain all over my body, and my mood was terrible. The head physician, passing through, took an interest in my case: he entered my room, placed his hands on my stomach, and compelled me to let out a resounding fart that echoed through the entire orthopedic ward. The doctor left immediately, and I felt great.