here, it is the old man went
It was good advice;)
marius That makes 18 more to paint.
Merry Christmas to you all
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Friday, December 24, 2010
Final Fantasy 2 Dawn Of Souls Emulator Cheats
noel
here, it is the old man went
It was good advice;)
marius That makes 18 more to paint.
Merry Christmas to you all
here, it is the old man went
It was good advice;)
marius That makes 18 more to paint.
Merry Christmas to you all
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Where To Live Low Taxws Good Schools
"Clean your room smells of" The Band Wagon
small skylight. Choice of information. Contrails advertisements. And in this stream, one m'abasourdit them.
We are the land of images, words deliberately chosen scenarios carefully scaffolded. Forget your nose and play.
A room for baby blue boy
Lying on a bed, a terrible machine.
a teenager.
Mechanics boiling permanent. Stuffed hormones exerted yoyo. Odor
baby yesterday. In the morning by some unknown alchemy nocturnal atmosphere of the Wild.
Mom tumbling into the room. Closeup on face crumpled, pinched nose, chin wrinkled. Then, the next peak indices.
socks scattered wilted in the corners, which we imagine the miasma filthy prisoners cotton twisted accordion. In contrast, of course, shoes, thrown to wild across the room or fallen at the foot of the bed, when the teenager exploded fatigue, found the strength to swing his soft basketball, with its big toe wrapped in sweat, pressed on the heel. Ottoman on the floor. Upside down, soles finally free to disseminate widely molecules sour yeast lukewarm, and cabbage acid.
The camera rotates, quickly skims the furniture pastel blue. Chairs, chair and convenient. Placed randomly, T-shirts anointed the sweat of the sporting achievements of the offspring, traces of mud, grass, and skinny pants on too short. On the carpet, bits of paper and various colored: bombec, crisps and caramel, a can lying, empty and forgotten, where a drop pearl rigid sugar dried. On the shelves of a library, unidentified objects, but that issue probably nauseating waves. On the desktop, where hang some school notebooks, bits of chewed gum, markers and pencils worn open. Finally, on the table and around a trash can in a state of indigestion, pellets crumpled paper.
My God! What a stinking racket. What a mess olfactory unacceptable! Will you "clean your room smells! "Looking bewildered
the teen.
endless and fragile body. Long hair. Potato nose. Sullen mouth: "Well ... what? Clean my room smells? "
" Yes, especially since you'll be the visit! "Shame ...
intimate odors lurking.
paring and fetid films.
scent of dreams or nightmares, released during the night.
Hints of privacy of a young boy who breathes, sleeps, books, dance, irritated, vegetate, screams, sings, eats in his room / pad / cave / hut.
The miasma of daily life, carefully secreted over the vagaries of the intimate mechanism that somehow draw a label to become man. An area marked, scratched, staff, who slowly develops. The voice of a young boy moved. Its smell too. The result often derails, for serious and treble. Distortions, sometimes strange atmosphere.
The mother shakes the room. No longer recognizes the smell of her toddler. Her baby.
"We need you clean your room smells" you it again.
Bleach will not be enough. Open the windows no more. It is absolutely necessary to obtain a magical product, a single cure that destroys, wraps, annihilates all these invisible fluids and plied, infiltrating everywhere. "Look, but look at my child, my baby, all these smells dirty, distorted everything! "Dust
. Rub. Brush. Clean and polish odor. Restore its original brilliance, his clear lacquer, his virtuous air of cleanliness.
Mom brandishes a bottle gun, feel anything fragrant to the universal, and sprayed the atmosphere infamous.
Dézinguées odors private.
atomize perfume skin. Furniture
blue watercolor, discarded clothes, lost sweat now industrial agent "flowers emerging" or "morning dew" enriched bouloteur odor rebels (a pinch of cyclodextrin), which issues the sliders to zero.
It's simpler.
And everything, yes everything, obviously ... will return to normal.
We are the land of images, words deliberately chosen scenarios carefully scaffolded. Forget your nose and play.
A room for baby blue boy
Lying on a bed, a terrible machine.
a teenager.
Mechanics boiling permanent. Stuffed hormones exerted yoyo. Odor
baby yesterday. In the morning by some unknown alchemy nocturnal atmosphere of the Wild.
Mom tumbling into the room. Closeup on face crumpled, pinched nose, chin wrinkled. Then, the next peak indices.
socks scattered wilted in the corners, which we imagine the miasma filthy prisoners cotton twisted accordion. In contrast, of course, shoes, thrown to wild across the room or fallen at the foot of the bed, when the teenager exploded fatigue, found the strength to swing his soft basketball, with its big toe wrapped in sweat, pressed on the heel. Ottoman on the floor. Upside down, soles finally free to disseminate widely molecules sour yeast lukewarm, and cabbage acid.
The camera rotates, quickly skims the furniture pastel blue. Chairs, chair and convenient. Placed randomly, T-shirts anointed the sweat of the sporting achievements of the offspring, traces of mud, grass, and skinny pants on too short. On the carpet, bits of paper and various colored: bombec, crisps and caramel, a can lying, empty and forgotten, where a drop pearl rigid sugar dried. On the shelves of a library, unidentified objects, but that issue probably nauseating waves. On the desktop, where hang some school notebooks, bits of chewed gum, markers and pencils worn open. Finally, on the table and around a trash can in a state of indigestion, pellets crumpled paper.
My God! What a stinking racket. What a mess olfactory unacceptable! Will you "clean your room smells! "Looking bewildered
the teen.
endless and fragile body. Long hair. Potato nose. Sullen mouth: "Well ... what? Clean my room smells? "
" Yes, especially since you'll be the visit! "Shame ...
intimate odors lurking.
paring and fetid films.
scent of dreams or nightmares, released during the night.
Hints of privacy of a young boy who breathes, sleeps, books, dance, irritated, vegetate, screams, sings, eats in his room / pad / cave / hut.
The miasma of daily life, carefully secreted over the vagaries of the intimate mechanism that somehow draw a label to become man. An area marked, scratched, staff, who slowly develops. The voice of a young boy moved. Its smell too. The result often derails, for serious and treble. Distortions, sometimes strange atmosphere.
The mother shakes the room. No longer recognizes the smell of her toddler. Her baby.
"We need you clean your room smells" you it again.
Bleach will not be enough. Open the windows no more. It is absolutely necessary to obtain a magical product, a single cure that destroys, wraps, annihilates all these invisible fluids and plied, infiltrating everywhere. "Look, but look at my child, my baby, all these smells dirty, distorted everything! "Dust
. Rub. Brush. Clean and polish odor. Restore its original brilliance, his clear lacquer, his virtuous air of cleanliness.
Mom brandishes a bottle gun, feel anything fragrant to the universal, and sprayed the atmosphere infamous.
Dézinguées odors private.
atomize perfume skin. Furniture
blue watercolor, discarded clothes, lost sweat now industrial agent "flowers emerging" or "morning dew" enriched bouloteur odor rebels (a pinch of cyclodextrin), which issues the sliders to zero.
It's simpler.
And everything, yes everything, obviously ... will return to normal.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Best Daylight Simulator Alarm Clock
3 parts incursion
Friday night I played 3 games and lost incursion Barbouille cons.
You can see the completion of my final EPA by Hans during the last part. It is strong this Barbouille (where he is lucky, it depends ...;))
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Brown Flakes Before Period And Pregnant
test
Test message sent from my new phone (htc hd desire for curious). Published 
Test message sent from my new phone (htc hd desire for curious). Published
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Friday, December 17, 2010
Sleeping With Muscular Women
A village in the hinterland. Cabaret evening. The village hall hosts a large audience, chatty and relaxed. Some people came on foot from their homes, their coats and carry on a discreet whiff of the first fires: the smells of a cold cloudless night. The others are hot off the interior of their warm car and waves convey warm and sweet. It is November, autumn is suddenly chilly. I went through the village to the rhythm of a walk.
Early driveway that intersects a pre dotted with olive trees, and leads to the hall shows, my nose is cold and numb tickled by a savory blend of flavors. I approached with a calm step into the light gaudy, I hear the quiet hum of conversation punctuated by laughter. I know no word, I pick a word off camera, but my nose starts cons like clockwork and flushes Celebrity fragrances of the moment, and the classic ancient Cologne. It's a chat I understand effortlessly in a seemingly cacophonous din. I catch a few molecules, I weave an invisible web where I put end to end logical sequences, and fragments frayed, then I identifies the entire subject. I distinguish clearly, what this monologue woman waiver of jasmine, and what other offers this soft creamy musk and sandalwood, I know what I owe this man howl of coumarin and lavender, and what other whispers wood chips, angelic and plum. Sometimes I close my eyes and my nose ahead alone. In these cases my man remains vigilant at my side because he feared that I always offends a nobody, with my air dog sniff, and blindly forward nose. In front of the hall, I discovered a joyous jumble of classic flavors heckled by the latest, as I have experienced since long. For it must be confessed, the Parisian flavor of the week just in the evening. In general, he leaves the office, and stressed late and went directly to the theater running, spray painted the dose in the morning. Sometimes a helping wipe to do well. Well, a little cartoon I
... But here in this small village, the fragrance is the final touch of a desired setting, a neat comb, an intention that takes its time. My nose is solicited from all sides. I do not guess at all, far from it, but I note a tendency over another. The swell scented transports me to the locker room where all the aromas mingle in a rambunctious concert without discipline, then to the room where the guests are placed at the table. Odors subside a bit, each finds its seat and tub scented finally stops.
The show can begin. In
room, while the waltz begins servers that meander between the tables on which are deposited and then removed, a succession of dishes, including a Colombian flavor.
On stage, while one after the other, the artists offer their songs and banter.
Spices colombo mingle with the scents of hot actors, based literally on stage, the flue dust invisible dart Caraway, tannin, resin, hot and bitter sap. Perfume skin warmed by the excitement, nerves and the heat of the fire ramp. Smell of damp hair fixed by lakes and other scented gels. Nothing remains in its place. Or clothing or hairstyle or fragrances carefully spread over the body like guardrails. The heart races, the temperature rises, the generosity exults, and stray odors. I harvest intrigued at the forefront, and I take everything. No longer are viewers who are entitled to quote with their toilet water carefully arranged and prepared, but the scene, exuberant and postage, which consumes space. Every gesture, every burst of voices, scatter, sow, exploring the gaps left by fragrances of good quality. Whatever the fragrance own self, which dominates tonight's special alchemy on stage. The momentum of the actor who warmed to his white skin. His body constantly in motion, his hands open and outstretched to engage in private room smell, as he balances his words to his audience. Spectators catch the flight, answered the call, stir and rise. Voice and fragrances mingle and gather. I love this fragrance of joy and abandonment. Vibration original brothel olfactory jubilant then suddenly the curtain falls. The doors open and odors escape. The cold the night is spreading. I'm shivering. Foot on the ground and lowered nose. Good night everybody, my nose is tired suddenly.
nod to Pascal Brunner and Karo ...
Early driveway that intersects a pre dotted with olive trees, and leads to the hall shows, my nose is cold and numb tickled by a savory blend of flavors. I approached with a calm step into the light gaudy, I hear the quiet hum of conversation punctuated by laughter. I know no word, I pick a word off camera, but my nose starts cons like clockwork and flushes Celebrity fragrances of the moment, and the classic ancient Cologne. It's a chat I understand effortlessly in a seemingly cacophonous din. I catch a few molecules, I weave an invisible web where I put end to end logical sequences, and fragments frayed, then I identifies the entire subject. I distinguish clearly, what this monologue woman waiver of jasmine, and what other offers this soft creamy musk and sandalwood, I know what I owe this man howl of coumarin and lavender, and what other whispers wood chips, angelic and plum. Sometimes I close my eyes and my nose ahead alone. In these cases my man remains vigilant at my side because he feared that I always offends a nobody, with my air dog sniff, and blindly forward nose. In front of the hall, I discovered a joyous jumble of classic flavors heckled by the latest, as I have experienced since long. For it must be confessed, the Parisian flavor of the week just in the evening. In general, he leaves the office, and stressed late and went directly to the theater running, spray painted the dose in the morning. Sometimes a helping wipe to do well. Well, a little cartoon I
... But here in this small village, the fragrance is the final touch of a desired setting, a neat comb, an intention that takes its time. My nose is solicited from all sides. I do not guess at all, far from it, but I note a tendency over another. The swell scented transports me to the locker room where all the aromas mingle in a rambunctious concert without discipline, then to the room where the guests are placed at the table. Odors subside a bit, each finds its seat and tub scented finally stops.
The show can begin. In
room, while the waltz begins servers that meander between the tables on which are deposited and then removed, a succession of dishes, including a Colombian flavor.
On stage, while one after the other, the artists offer their songs and banter.
Spices colombo mingle with the scents of hot actors, based literally on stage, the flue dust invisible dart Caraway, tannin, resin, hot and bitter sap. Perfume skin warmed by the excitement, nerves and the heat of the fire ramp. Smell of damp hair fixed by lakes and other scented gels. Nothing remains in its place. Or clothing or hairstyle or fragrances carefully spread over the body like guardrails. The heart races, the temperature rises, the generosity exults, and stray odors. I harvest intrigued at the forefront, and I take everything. No longer are viewers who are entitled to quote with their toilet water carefully arranged and prepared, but the scene, exuberant and postage, which consumes space. Every gesture, every burst of voices, scatter, sow, exploring the gaps left by fragrances of good quality. Whatever the fragrance own self, which dominates tonight's special alchemy on stage. The momentum of the actor who warmed to his white skin. His body constantly in motion, his hands open and outstretched to engage in private room smell, as he balances his words to his audience. Spectators catch the flight, answered the call, stir and rise. Voice and fragrances mingle and gather. I love this fragrance of joy and abandonment. Vibration original brothel olfactory jubilant then suddenly the curtain falls. The doors open and odors escape. The cold the night is spreading. I'm shivering. Foot on the ground and lowered nose. Good night everybody, my nose is tired suddenly.
nod to Pascal Brunner and Karo ...
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Pokemon Soul Silver Vba Mac
Effacer son mot de passe ou son login de la liste de suggestion d'un navigateur
Sometimes when you type its name or user login to connect (eg Gmail, Yahoo, Facebook, Hotmail or any other service), they are wrong and you seize her password. If unfortunately we pressed the Enter key, this information will reappear whenever you start typing the first letter in the suggestion list: revealing the password.
Note that this list of suggestion depends site: If you use MyYahoo www.yahoo.fr on, it will not appear in the suggestion list on the website www.gmail.com .
However this information remains "forever" present for a given site: delete cookies that get sent there doing nothing (this is not the site that maintains information but your browser).
This problem exists for Chrome and Firefox (I have not tested with IE). To remove a suggested list of users or accounts provided by Firefox or Chrome, the process is simple and identical:
- Open login page of the site concerned
- Start with the field User Account or login
- Type the first letter of the word
- When the list appears, use the arrows on the keyboard to select the line you want to delete.
- Once the selection made, press the Delete key.
The row is deleted from the list and will not appear again until the next entry error.
I hope that you will have rendered service as it is always difficult to leave the password appear in clear in the suggestion list for users of a site.
Like most people use the same password on different sites, the security flaw is particularly important.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Itching Legs After Waxing
the Zombies The SWD
Here are my zombies of SWD for Incursion:
They are painted by mega-fast method kifédumarius, trademarks or Grindhouse West Wind (much cheaper but less fine) and painted with paints range Flames of War (originally purchased for my German 15mm). These paintings are covering and it is good news, I have the kit German armor and infantry German, colors perfect for what I wanted.
PS Barbouille, this is the one that you should put the pressure;)
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Dance Costumes For Solos
medals JFJ 2011
As I said in my last post, I realized a medal for the coming JFJ I experimented with painting on different sub-layer to be tested, from left to right: bronze, silver, gold, top sub-layer brown, black at the bottom.
I can not decide to determine which sub-layer is best suited for the bronze and gold. It may be brown to black and gold for bronze.
If you have an opinion on the issue, leave a comment.
Barbouille PS: it's for the next message is not dry here!
PS for all: Understanding the topline visit comments last thread Barbouille.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Cost Of Weymouth Club Membership
Urban Legend
given or snook? A perfumer
without his nose can no longer work?
question we often ask myself.
I checked. I got sick. Cloistered in the bed. A nose like a potato. Totally obstructed nasal piping. Of tissues to my right and my left foot of the bed, a tall pyramid of meatballs cellulose wrinkled and wet. Not means clear pipelines. Breathing toad and ears stuffed with cotton.
closed world. But
Moulinette volute, in action.
effervescent Aspirin UPSA 1000 : mustard, sap, citric acid, mineral, ozone, salt, bêêêrk squeak
Aspégic 1000 powder : mandarin, flour, salt, acidic, mineral, is sickening bêêêrk
Doliprane effervescent 1000: bitter orange, wood chips and pickle ... it's disgusting bêêêrk
Amoxicillin-Clavulanic Acid (generic Augmentin) suffers syrup, lemon slices, toast, we sniffed glue, newsprint ink .... Bêêêrk is vile
Derinox : 2 pschitt in the nose. Fleet and salicylates ... Okay, that's all?
Enough ... my nose! Fact
me alone!
no way to be quiet, even when the general mechanics will falter
I ended up sleeping. I left all alone in front of my face ... abandoned
happy to find it when I woke
vaporized Urban Legend The nose works, even stuffy
real truth: there is foul-mouthed as we are a little sick.
without his nose can no longer work?
question we often ask myself.
I checked. I got sick. Cloistered in the bed. A nose like a potato. Totally obstructed nasal piping. Of tissues to my right and my left foot of the bed, a tall pyramid of meatballs cellulose wrinkled and wet. Not means clear pipelines. Breathing toad and ears stuffed with cotton.
closed world. But
Moulinette volute, in action.
effervescent Aspirin UPSA 1000 : mustard, sap, citric acid, mineral, ozone, salt, bêêêrk squeak
Aspégic 1000 powder : mandarin, flour, salt, acidic, mineral, is sickening bêêêrk
Doliprane effervescent 1000: bitter orange, wood chips and pickle ... it's disgusting bêêêrk
Amoxicillin-Clavulanic Acid (generic Augmentin) suffers syrup, lemon slices, toast, we sniffed glue, newsprint ink .... Bêêêrk is vile
Derinox : 2 pschitt in the nose. Fleet and salicylates ... Okay, that's all?
Enough ... my nose! Fact
me alone!
no way to be quiet, even when the general mechanics will falter
I ended up sleeping. I left all alone in front of my face ... abandoned
happy to find it when I woke
vaporized Urban Legend The nose works, even stuffy
real truth: there is foul-mouthed as we are a little sick.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
How Do You Get The Gunpowder On Poptropica
few projects related to JFJ
sculpture is of Skive and the ball is IMHO!! 
As you probably know if you regularly read this blog, I am the club Sartrouville (Sartrouville Figures & Games - SFJ) and as organizer of JFJ, Hobbies and Games Days. These will be held on January 15 and 16 in the gym Carnot Sartrouville (like last year).
This year I am less involved in the overall organization than in previous years, meaning that I managed the production of the figurine that you can see the concept on our poster below:
This year I am less involved in the overall organization than in previous years, meaning that I managed the production of the figurine that you can see the concept on our poster below:
sculpture is of Skive and the ball is IMHO!!
Like other years, I managed the design and manufacture of trophies (with nicoleblond 2 years ago), I decided to innovate and as my mind and my realization liked the club, we have this year to give medals to winners of tournaments, painting competitions for trophies and convention. Here's the green of the coin, carved by me from the drawing of Rohm.
Well, this is the first time I do this stuff, so it must be a bit indulgent ... I tell myself it could have been worse. I finished the drawings and there we will attack the paint of these medals, they will be mounted on wooden bases. Hope it will effect.
Using Cheat Engine On Poptropica
EPA
When I think of Incursion and I realize I found Space Hulk V3 qu'Incursion expensive so cost me a forearm (at least 1.5 times more expensive) ...
Well it does not matter, these classes are really more EPA than beasts Blood Angels Terminators. And then the zombie is still spurting more and less hygienic than Genestealer (quoique. ..) and it justifies the purification corridors Base Gibraltar in 1949.
I realize that we are LE8 December and I can barely one third of marius announced in January ... I have 2 or 3 things on fire but it does not allow me to get to accomplish my RDA. I will focus now 500 which is already quite a year. 
early 2010, Grindhouse games coming out of the box and made a foray deal with American and German starter. The Blup we reproduced this deal, Barbouille and I have bought (each one ... geek'attitude when you hold us ...).
end of 2010, I finally painted the EPA and as Barbouille had a lot of zombies , we are ready to play
end of 2010, I finally painted the EPA and as Barbouille had a lot of zombies , we are ready to play
When I think of Incursion and I realize I found Space Hulk V3 qu'Incursion expensive so cost me a forearm (at least 1.5 times more expensive) ...
Well it does not matter, these classes are really more EPA than beasts Blood Angels Terminators. And then the zombie is still spurting more and less hygienic than Genestealer (quoique. ..) and it justifies the purification corridors Base Gibraltar in 1949.
I realize that we are LE8 December and I can barely one third of marius announced in January ... I have 2 or 3 things on fire but it does not allow me to get to accomplish my RDA. I will focus now 500 which is already quite a year.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Headhpones Brain Cancer
Kirril incursion, the hypnotist
Last Saturday there was a tournament named Eden Apocalysthon to Herblay coffee-game. The coffee-games and a very nice place worth visiting if you go through it.
History not always update the same components and do a little "feel", I managed to get the new Eden last Wednesday (thanks Stephane) so I could paint it on Thursday; it is Kirril as follows:
Kirril And did "feel" Saturday, he has completely redesigned its thanks to Jokers by 5 psi and its powers hypnotist. See opponents calculate PS and hesitate long to build to counter the powers of PS is a true pleasure (yep, Kirill is boring me to handle at first!). And it works a lot since I finished 2 of 14, only Barbouille did not let hypnotize ... ;)
Last news of the day, taban released a new faction for Eden: the convoy. The stater is available in limited to 250 copies with a figure of Santa Claus post-apo thrash punk with bits in it at first (before being available in standard, not Santa Claus).
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Creaative,driver,extigy,windows 7
stuff to sell
if you click on the top right (on the déplombaje) you will get a list of tips and stuff I separate myself. I just update it. If something interests you, send me a mail or leave a comment.
These objects will bring-in and buy the JFJ, so you can make reservations or to see them live before you buy or trade them.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Ford Mondeo Outside Temperature Sensor
a little devil ...
two days before leaving for the GNF Sebrom Barbouille and informed me that they had not recovered the demon Francis G. Gologthik to our table. It happens that this same demon dragged me from my home (Single) order from Heresy ago .... pfiouh .... 6 years at a minimum (peut_être 7, Andy was a promo for it needed a new car).
Neither one nor two, I ride the beast (actually, it is all tiger and trim, it took me almost two hours), I sub-layer, I drop the beast of 1m high (too confident magnets and glue together ...), I Retiga all (even one hour ...). Rapidos I paint, stain, and I work here:
Given the time available, I am more than satisfied, it will also had its effect on our table when goglothik the GNF.
and pof! 9 marius easily gained (under pressure)! yes, its base is 6 inches wide, so it's worth three figs normal, right?
Bushnell Trophy Mp Review
following wildcard for the gang eden
Right now, it's Eden who has the wind in their sails at the club (mainly because of smeared and a bit of allastor pushing for consumption), then j 'I continued to acquire and painting for my figs Jokers gang, since this post :
from left to right, Stipan, Vasiliev, fifi, Grush, Mishka, Yorg, Nicolai and Bogdana. Contrairemetn to what I said previously and apart Bogdan was suffering, they are all very nice and fun to paint. Bogdana has been broken at least 3 times, I've given up, and I stuck as it was ... So
taban miniature has improved its metal and it's good news.
the same views of 3 / 4 ... and the game is any good, it's a real challenge in the tournament (in fact there is a tomorrow to uchronies games) and a real pleasure to meet.
What Has Happened To Fakku
Mistral
is rumored night of Mistral, the following story.
At one time, far away from us when time was expressed in seasons, the wind was blowing as sometimes happens in this region, and for hours without intermission. He crossed the plains, rushing between villages, crumpled trees and crops, livestock and knocked the men.
When night came, the Mistral still hitting against the walls of a beautiful house, built on one edge of land dotted with vineyards. It slipped under doors by raising the dust on forgotten worn tiles, and managed to infiltrate between the shutters closed. The candlelight flickered briefly, stirring shadows on the attentive faces of family members and neighbors, gathered around the table in the large kitchen. At times, their eyes toward the floor escaped. Interrogative. Silent. Then slowly, with a slight sigh, attention was again drawn to the ripple of flames.
Above, in the master bedroom, a woman gave birth, with just the necessary effort to enjoy the happy and peaceful feeling of a job well done. The child was beautiful and well trained. His first cry was launched to clear the ceiling plastered with lime. The cry burst from the tiny chest, and the benevolent smile of the beautiful nurse who held him, while bloody and gooey in the arm, turned into a hideous grimace. The child stank. No, timeless miasma usual given by the design world: blood, water, sweat, and mucous stool. Emanation hot and stale, metallic, musky. But a terrifying remugle of raw garlic, salty and glebe of rotten orange. Surprise she almost dropped the infant, and could not suppress a groan by the applicant in swaddling clothes, to quickly clear the dross of childbirth. The newborn was swaddled tightly placed in the arms of his mother. The child opened her mouth, seeking the breast. The fetid breath reaches the tired face of the mother. She could not find the words, but his face expressed a deep disgust, turned and drove the tiny hands burden. The father was pacing behind the door, heard the cries and rushed, radiant and triumphant, in the room. And returned, worn low and shoulder, as soon as leaned toward her newborn child. The door closed. The midwife did not know what to say or do, never had any similar experience on his long list of births. Discomfort in the room sat silent. You could hear only the wind gusts chaotic and discrete and regular breathing of the baby.
Slowly, like a container filled to the brim, not closed when a faucet is leaking drops regular part was gradually invaded by the awful stench of the first breaths of the newborn. The midwife left the place hurriedly, shortness of breath, the body, like wrapped around his nose. The mother was alone with her baby beside her, left the bedside. Beautiful and serene, looking happy, he tasted the air with delight, and threw an invisible thread of shit, regardless faces of his mother on the verge of nausea.
Meanwhile, on the ground floor you find commenting on the event without reason or answer. The tone was rising. He had to decide, try to find a solution. But some had heard of such a tragedy in the vicinity, or beyond. No human being known to them and could not stink, let alone a newborn uneventful. In the hubbub of protests, a soft-spoken and slender
pierced - The wind ... do you hear the wind?
- Well, what the wind, Grandma. Replied irritably, the father of the infant.
- The wind is so strong tonight, so violent and angry. Doubtless in coming to the little world, at'il nabbed a song in his throat?
- But what do we jaspines you there?
- Calm down ... The Peter reassured the Tantenette, laying on his arm, his hand stained cemetery flowers. "It simply means that the wind and life are probably entangled gases"
Glance pensive and mines close, skeptical silence greeted this story and waved briefly to the audience, when suddenly a long complaint by the chimney wind blew, and blew out the candles on a candelabra of fine laid on the buffet. All startled. A wonderful scent of sweet pea and orange blossom, slightly caramelized sugar and shuttle passed to the oven, slid under the noses of everyone. All smiled unconsciously, and the features of their faces, chopped by the sun and the work of the earth, suddenly relaxed, smooth and bright.
The father then sprang from his chair and rushed upstairs, swallowing the stairs two by two. He returned a few moments later, the handsome boy with the sweet face between his arms, while we heard the tragic calls his mother, who screamed in pain and helplessness. The father crossed
a determined part where everyone around the table, sat half upright, hesitating to intervene, not knowing what to decide, finally seated back buttock heavy, when they heard the door of the house closing loudly. A gust of wind fragrant manage to escape to the kitchen and swept a new candle. The
Tantenette sighed. She left the table and lit one by one, taking all the time, the candles that were blown by the Mistral intoxicating.
father reappeared. Without the toddler.
Faces rose towards him, questioning him in silence. Worried. Also strangely relieved.
Grandma grunted disapprovingly. The father Mufti
word and went without worrying about visitors in his room, joining his wife.
The mother stopped crying. No one dared utter a
comment. We waited. Long. The nose on the chin.
Mistral continued his sarabande deafening. He struck the walls, painted the cypress, which crackled under the assault, hackberry leaves brushed with disheveled, tore long plaintive whistle, as he tried to slip between the roof tiles.
Then came silence.
And we distinctly heard a gentle and quiet laughter, an accomplice of the blade.
unfolded his grandfather's old body, and addressed the audience a look that commanded to leave her mistress of the events. Even Tantenette did not flinch, and nodded in silence. Old tightened her shawl around her shoulders, crossed the hall to the sound of his shoes rubbing the ground, and left the house.
Without hesitation, she entered the alley leading from the home of the Masters to the cultivated fields. At the top of the dirt road, before switching to the vines, the wind takes all his race from the upper valley, as no obstacle prevents it from tumbling down and hit, quarrelsome and player, a mulberry robust and stocky, standing there for so long that imagines immutable. Its large branches, dark and tight, covers have always been walkers, a fresh and pleasant shade when the sun becomes too white.
The grandmother heard the laughter crystalline infant, and walked toward the tree. Mistral became the gentle breeze and scents of nature reached light and caressing. The body was wrapped in swaddling clothes hanging on the low branch of mulberry like a huge pod of white beans, tossed by the current. She approached. A gasp of wind swung the cocoon, and the baby's face appeared pale and chubby in the golden light of dawn this fall. The cheeks, round and tense intrigued old. She picked up the child and took him home. The tiny had not opened his lips and his eyes had become very serious.
The grandmother went into the house, the child nestled in her lap. A murmur greeted happy and relieved the infant, who had not yet opened his tiny mouth a soft pink hawthorn. We leaned in unison on the little white bundle, which had been religiously deposited on the kitchen table. The baby stopped waving. His gaze traveled serious meeting, his lips parted as if to offer a kiss, and his cheeks swollen relaxed. A whirlwind of horrific smell violently lashed the faces of adults gathered around the table. A terrible roar lifted their clothes, blow glass, plates and all objects placed on furniture. The tables are unhooked and fell with a crash, fire in the fireplace vanished, while the ashes sprang and defiled every corner, to the ceiling joists. The wave roared louder than ever smelling, corrosive and rancid, and spread through all the corridors, flooding every room, rushing down the stairs, only to tear the door of the room where the little angel came into the world within hours earlier. On the bed, which still retained the disorder and marks the birth, the parents were sleeping, shot emotions. The Mistral and lifted them gently, without awakening, broke the window to take in its Reiters, beyond the hills. We never saw them again.
In the kitchen, the nauseating wave dissipated. The calm.
Women and men with one eye opened prudent snorted like to hunt some acrid dust and burned, and gazed at the room upside down. The table where they were before was gone. A painful gamy smell of humus, rotten fruit and shredded metal, surfaced around. No trace of the grandfather or the baby.
Since that day, Life and Mistral put an end to this terrible disorder, and each remains in its place.
The large and beautiful building where the items were scrambled has since disappeared, and no stone is a testament to his presence.
Today, as ever since the dawn of time, the Mistral has every flavor of the earth and worries of the world. And when it spreads, it drags after him the wrath of deaf men.
And when a newborn enters the world, a quick sweet smell of sweet peas and caramelized cake, oozing from his head round, and thus alleviates the concern of men.
Finally, in general ...
At one time, far away from us when time was expressed in seasons, the wind was blowing as sometimes happens in this region, and for hours without intermission. He crossed the plains, rushing between villages, crumpled trees and crops, livestock and knocked the men.
When night came, the Mistral still hitting against the walls of a beautiful house, built on one edge of land dotted with vineyards. It slipped under doors by raising the dust on forgotten worn tiles, and managed to infiltrate between the shutters closed. The candlelight flickered briefly, stirring shadows on the attentive faces of family members and neighbors, gathered around the table in the large kitchen. At times, their eyes toward the floor escaped. Interrogative. Silent. Then slowly, with a slight sigh, attention was again drawn to the ripple of flames.
Above, in the master bedroom, a woman gave birth, with just the necessary effort to enjoy the happy and peaceful feeling of a job well done. The child was beautiful and well trained. His first cry was launched to clear the ceiling plastered with lime. The cry burst from the tiny chest, and the benevolent smile of the beautiful nurse who held him, while bloody and gooey in the arm, turned into a hideous grimace. The child stank. No, timeless miasma usual given by the design world: blood, water, sweat, and mucous stool. Emanation hot and stale, metallic, musky. But a terrifying remugle of raw garlic, salty and glebe of rotten orange. Surprise she almost dropped the infant, and could not suppress a groan by the applicant in swaddling clothes, to quickly clear the dross of childbirth. The newborn was swaddled tightly placed in the arms of his mother. The child opened her mouth, seeking the breast. The fetid breath reaches the tired face of the mother. She could not find the words, but his face expressed a deep disgust, turned and drove the tiny hands burden. The father was pacing behind the door, heard the cries and rushed, radiant and triumphant, in the room. And returned, worn low and shoulder, as soon as leaned toward her newborn child. The door closed. The midwife did not know what to say or do, never had any similar experience on his long list of births. Discomfort in the room sat silent. You could hear only the wind gusts chaotic and discrete and regular breathing of the baby.
Slowly, like a container filled to the brim, not closed when a faucet is leaking drops regular part was gradually invaded by the awful stench of the first breaths of the newborn. The midwife left the place hurriedly, shortness of breath, the body, like wrapped around his nose. The mother was alone with her baby beside her, left the bedside. Beautiful and serene, looking happy, he tasted the air with delight, and threw an invisible thread of shit, regardless faces of his mother on the verge of nausea.
Meanwhile, on the ground floor you find commenting on the event without reason or answer. The tone was rising. He had to decide, try to find a solution. But some had heard of such a tragedy in the vicinity, or beyond. No human being known to them and could not stink, let alone a newborn uneventful. In the hubbub of protests, a soft-spoken and slender
pierced - The wind ... do you hear the wind?
- Well, what the wind, Grandma. Replied irritably, the father of the infant.
- The wind is so strong tonight, so violent and angry. Doubtless in coming to the little world, at'il nabbed a song in his throat?
- But what do we jaspines you there?
- Calm down ... The Peter reassured the Tantenette, laying on his arm, his hand stained cemetery flowers. "It simply means that the wind and life are probably entangled gases"
Glance pensive and mines close, skeptical silence greeted this story and waved briefly to the audience, when suddenly a long complaint by the chimney wind blew, and blew out the candles on a candelabra of fine laid on the buffet. All startled. A wonderful scent of sweet pea and orange blossom, slightly caramelized sugar and shuttle passed to the oven, slid under the noses of everyone. All smiled unconsciously, and the features of their faces, chopped by the sun and the work of the earth, suddenly relaxed, smooth and bright.
The father then sprang from his chair and rushed upstairs, swallowing the stairs two by two. He returned a few moments later, the handsome boy with the sweet face between his arms, while we heard the tragic calls his mother, who screamed in pain and helplessness. The father crossed
a determined part where everyone around the table, sat half upright, hesitating to intervene, not knowing what to decide, finally seated back buttock heavy, when they heard the door of the house closing loudly. A gust of wind fragrant manage to escape to the kitchen and swept a new candle. The
Tantenette sighed. She left the table and lit one by one, taking all the time, the candles that were blown by the Mistral intoxicating.
father reappeared. Without the toddler.
Faces rose towards him, questioning him in silence. Worried. Also strangely relieved.
Grandma grunted disapprovingly. The father Mufti
word and went without worrying about visitors in his room, joining his wife.
The mother stopped crying. No one dared utter a
comment. We waited. Long. The nose on the chin.
Mistral continued his sarabande deafening. He struck the walls, painted the cypress, which crackled under the assault, hackberry leaves brushed with disheveled, tore long plaintive whistle, as he tried to slip between the roof tiles.
Then came silence.
And we distinctly heard a gentle and quiet laughter, an accomplice of the blade.
unfolded his grandfather's old body, and addressed the audience a look that commanded to leave her mistress of the events. Even Tantenette did not flinch, and nodded in silence. Old tightened her shawl around her shoulders, crossed the hall to the sound of his shoes rubbing the ground, and left the house.
Without hesitation, she entered the alley leading from the home of the Masters to the cultivated fields. At the top of the dirt road, before switching to the vines, the wind takes all his race from the upper valley, as no obstacle prevents it from tumbling down and hit, quarrelsome and player, a mulberry robust and stocky, standing there for so long that imagines immutable. Its large branches, dark and tight, covers have always been walkers, a fresh and pleasant shade when the sun becomes too white.
The grandmother heard the laughter crystalline infant, and walked toward the tree. Mistral became the gentle breeze and scents of nature reached light and caressing. The body was wrapped in swaddling clothes hanging on the low branch of mulberry like a huge pod of white beans, tossed by the current. She approached. A gasp of wind swung the cocoon, and the baby's face appeared pale and chubby in the golden light of dawn this fall. The cheeks, round and tense intrigued old. She picked up the child and took him home. The tiny had not opened his lips and his eyes had become very serious.
The grandmother went into the house, the child nestled in her lap. A murmur greeted happy and relieved the infant, who had not yet opened his tiny mouth a soft pink hawthorn. We leaned in unison on the little white bundle, which had been religiously deposited on the kitchen table. The baby stopped waving. His gaze traveled serious meeting, his lips parted as if to offer a kiss, and his cheeks swollen relaxed. A whirlwind of horrific smell violently lashed the faces of adults gathered around the table. A terrible roar lifted their clothes, blow glass, plates and all objects placed on furniture. The tables are unhooked and fell with a crash, fire in the fireplace vanished, while the ashes sprang and defiled every corner, to the ceiling joists. The wave roared louder than ever smelling, corrosive and rancid, and spread through all the corridors, flooding every room, rushing down the stairs, only to tear the door of the room where the little angel came into the world within hours earlier. On the bed, which still retained the disorder and marks the birth, the parents were sleeping, shot emotions. The Mistral and lifted them gently, without awakening, broke the window to take in its Reiters, beyond the hills. We never saw them again.
In the kitchen, the nauseating wave dissipated. The calm.
Women and men with one eye opened prudent snorted like to hunt some acrid dust and burned, and gazed at the room upside down. The table where they were before was gone. A painful gamy smell of humus, rotten fruit and shredded metal, surfaced around. No trace of the grandfather or the baby.
Since that day, Life and Mistral put an end to this terrible disorder, and each remains in its place.
The large and beautiful building where the items were scrambled has since disappeared, and no stone is a testament to his presence.
Today, as ever since the dawn of time, the Mistral has every flavor of the earth and worries of the world. And when it spreads, it drags after him the wrath of deaf men.
And when a newborn enters the world, a quick sweet smell of sweet peas and caramelized cake, oozing from his head round, and thus alleviates the concern of men.
Finally, in general ...
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
How To Fix Bicycle Dynamo
Sound & Image 1
Ray CD and DVD. Letters
modern odors and aquatic green, trays plastic washers and mirrors.
Bastion, the sweet, sweet vinyl, shirt cardboard, impregnated with the fragrance of the place, kitchen, basement or garage.
Who still remembers the smell of cassette tapes that unwinding inevitably ball?
Ray T. V
Large and giant screens. Warm smell and sharp televisions. Timeless fragrance? Not sure.
In my childhood, the small screen, as he was called then, was broadcasting waves near the olfactory concentrated dishwashing liquid, a mixture of lime and early thrush. Now, television feels almost pink, very pale and faded. Obviously, this is progress: the component temperatures when operating, the material with which the forms are made, and the tiny electronic components are no longer the same.
Strangely, this does not vary is the smell of dust that sticks to the screen and simmer gently. Imperceptible when we have one, sailing soft, warm, light and outdated, when a dozen screens illuminate at the same time an enclosed space.
modern odors and aquatic green, trays plastic washers and mirrors.
Bastion, the sweet, sweet vinyl, shirt cardboard, impregnated with the fragrance of the place, kitchen, basement or garage.
Who still remembers the smell of cassette tapes that unwinding inevitably ball?
Ray T. V
Large and giant screens. Warm smell and sharp televisions. Timeless fragrance? Not sure.
In my childhood, the small screen, as he was called then, was broadcasting waves near the olfactory concentrated dishwashing liquid, a mixture of lime and early thrush. Now, television feels almost pink, very pale and faded. Obviously, this is progress: the component temperatures when operating, the material with which the forms are made, and the tiny electronic components are no longer the same.
Strangely, this does not vary is the smell of dust that sticks to the screen and simmer gently. Imperceptible when we have one, sailing soft, warm, light and outdated, when a dozen screens illuminate at the same time an enclosed space.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Milena Velba Ho Ho Ho Gallery
Couverture de code : Mise en œuvre de Cobertura pour une application Web
This note presents the implementation of Cobertura for a Web application. You will find a brief overview of Cobertura, followed by a tutorial for its use in testing a Web application running on Tomcat.
Presentation Cobertura Cobertura
is a tool that measures code coverage of a test set. It does not perform the tests or automate them: Cobertura fair measure the relevance and completeness of those tests.
tools that measure the coverage of your Java code all work the same way:
- it is not necessary to modify the Java code: the solutions are not intrusive.
- there is first a phase manipulation of compiled files (class, jar or war): This phase occurs after the compilation seems to build a layer of proxies on existing binaries in order to intercept all calls.
- it runs the tests with the instrumented binaries by adding a jar for the proper functioning of the layer proxy.
- it completes the test by an output violent (often Ctrl C) to the proxy layer is to resume the hand creates the reporting
- running out, converting the file record in HTML pages: one obtains a site that shows for each Java class: the percentage code executed, the number of conditional branches executed and details of the code executed or not.
The outcome of the process is a report that indicates whether all of the code has been tested and which allows detection of code not executed.
Below is a sample index.html page is a summary of the report is the starting point of the various pages of analysis.
We note that for each package was a summary of covered code:
- was the number of classes that make up the package
- was the percentage of lines code executed (comment lines are not counted)
- was the number of lines executed and the total number of lines of code in this package (all grades)
- what Cobertura branch is called conditional branch ( if, else ...): it measures if for each test, we had to the case of true and false. If you only had the case of true, you'll be only 50% test coverage of the branches.
- the last column is the complexity "cyclotimique" code (I admit not having used this information)
For a class, it is possible to have detail. This point can be very useful when trying to improve its test: we must understand what part of the code has not been tested to build the test which will cover.
is found that the top was a summary of the coverage of the class with the percentage and number of lines tested on the number of total lines of the class.
was then the code executed in green lines with the number of times, the red lines that have not been: in the example above only the constructor and the method getSolde were executed.
Implementation of a Web application for Cobertura
The majority of this documentation using Cobertura in phases JUnit unit tests. Implementing a web application deployed on a JEE application server like Tomcat is more delicate: the proper functioning of Cobertura is based on good management of the data file (called datafile and whose default name is cobertura.ser) . However, this management is based on what the application server sees as the starting point of its file system and this parameter varies enormously from one configuration to another and from one server to another.
Configuring Tomcat 6.0
The test was done on a Tomcat 6.0 server. The server is launched with the startup.bat and not as a Windows service: it has a significant impact on the location or the file must be cobertura.ser.
For my part, I downloaded from the site http://tomcat.apache.org/download-60.cgi core version for Windows 32-bit 32-bit Windows.zip. The directory
obtained during the unzip: apache-tomcat-6.0.29 has been copied to a new folder on my desktop TestCouverture created for the occasion. So I have a dedicated environment for my tests.
catalina.bat I open the bin located in the very beginning and I add the following file:
Set JAVA_HOME = C: \\ Program Files \\ Java \\ jdk1.6.0_18
The advantage of this solution is to free myself of any rights restrictions on the directories: default, Tomcat is usually installed in Program Files which is subject to recent versions of Windows (Vista and Seven) has a policy of restrictive rights may prevent the update from the data file Cobertura cobertura.ser.
Installing Cobertura
I used the last version available (at the time of my tests), version 1.9.4.1.
It can be downloaded from the following site: http://cobertura.sourceforge.net/download.html
Just unzip in the directory, in my case the same file TestCouverture office.
Manipulation of Classes with Cobertura
Before exploit my classes of my project TestCobertura Eclipse JEE, I generate the war file from Eclipse.
I deployed to my Tomcat server configured for the test: Desktop \\ apache-tomcat-6.0.29 \\ webapps. Think about any jar to be installed in Tomcat / lib as those of drivers database.
I run the application after starting Tomcat with startup.bat. It exploded the war file TestCobertura. Stop the server.
To exploit Java classes, we will build from the Eclipse project directory that contains the class and we will crush these class TestCobertura exploded directory of the Tomcat server (hence the importance of application execution )
- my project directory Eclipse is in My Documents \\ eclipsewsp, the class files are in C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Documents \\ eclipsewsp \\ TestCobertura \\ build \\ classes.
- The repertoire of war exploded in Tomcat is: C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Desktop \\ TestCouverture \\ apache-tomcat-6.0.29 \\ webapps \\ TestCobertura.
- cobertura.ser The data file will be created in the Tomcat bin directory: C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Desktop \\ TestCouverture \\ apache-tomcat-6.0.29 \\ bin
Think:
- MONCOMPTEWINDOWS must be replaced by the string for your configuration.
- TestCobertura is the name of my Eclipse project.
- eclipsewsp is the name of my Eclipse workspace directory.
It opens a DOS command file. it is positioned in the directory Cobertura:
cd C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Desktop \\ TestCouverture \\ cobertura-1.9.4.1
We type the following command:
cobertura-instrument.bat - datafile "C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Desktop \\ TestCouverture \\ apache-tomcat-6.0.29 \\ bin \\ cobertura.ser" - destination "C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Desktop \\ TestCouverture \\ apache-tomcat -6.0.29 \\ webapps \\ TestCobertura \\ WEB-INF \\ classes " "C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Documents \\ eclipsewsp \\ TestCobertura \\ build \\ classes"
careful to use the quotation marks "to avoid problems in areas of potential long names. The result should be:
Cobertura 1.9.4.1 - GNU GPL License (NO WARRANTY) - See COPYRIGHT file Instrumenting
1 file to C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Desktop \\ TestCouverture \\ apache-tomcat-6.0.29 \\ webapps \\ TestCobertura \\ WEB-INF \\ classes
Cobertura: Saved information is 131 classes.
Instrument time: 4129ms
In the bin directory of your Tomcat server, you should find a file cobertura.ser. This file is necessary for the proper functioning of Cobertura: it indicates the list of classes it must exploit and test results. This file will be read / write during test execution.
If you want to repeat the tests to zero, it is possible to save this version of the file that contains classes manipulated with a usage count to zero. The
. Class files from WEB-INF \\ classes have been changed (the date was changed).
The classes are manipulated.
Test the application exploited
If you try to restart the application, you will get an error in the log localhost:
Caused by: java.lang.NoClassDefFoundError: net / sourceforge / cobertura / coveragedata / HasBeenInstrumented
java.lang.ClassLoader.defineClass1 at (Native Method) at
java.lang.ClassLoader.defineClassCond (ClassLoader.java : 632) at
java.lang.ClassLoader.defineClass (ClassLoader.java: 616)
at java.security.SecureClassLoader.defineClass(SecureClassLoader.java:141)
    at org.apache.catalina.loader.WebappClassLoader.findClassInternal(WebappClassLoader.java:2733)
    at org.apache.catalina.loader.WebappClassLoader.findClass(WebappClassLoader.java:1124)
    at org.apache.catalina.loader.WebappClassLoader.loadClass(WebappClassLoader.java:1612)
    at org.apache.catalina.loader.WebappClassLoader.loadClass(WebappClassLoader.java:1491)
    at java.lang.Class.forName0(Native Method)
    at java.lang.Class.forName(Class.java:169)
    at org.hibernate.util.ReflectHelper.classForName(ReflectHelper.java:192)
    at org.hibernate.cfg.AnnotationConfiguration.parseMappingElement(AnnotationConfiguration.java:647)
    ... 57 more
Caused by: java.lang.ClassNotFoundException: net.sourceforge.cobertura.coveragedata.HasBeenInstrumented
    at org.apache.catalina.loader.WebappClassLoader.loadClass(WebappClassLoader.java:1645) Has
org.apache.catalina.loader.WebappClassLoader.loadClass (WebappClassLoader.java: 1491)
... 69 more
This error means that the lack cobertura jar that is used by classes manipulated.
the extent where they built a Tomcat server for the tests, simply add cobertura.jar in the bin directory of Tomcat.
The jar is in the cobertura directory TestCouverture \\ cobertura-1.9.4.1. Simply copy TestCouverture \\ apache-tomcat-6.0.29 \\ lib. You can restart
Tomcat with Startup.bat and run your test.
At the end of your test, you stop putting yourself in Tomcat console will open it and press Ctrl C. Tomcat stops and updates the file cobertura.ser with logs of your use.
generate report HTML
The final phase is the generation of the report in HTML format.
The report uses the file cobertura.ser updated when you use. For this to work requires that when running your application, Tomcat has found the file cobertura.ser well established during the manipulation. If not found, it will create a file cobertura.ser in apache-tomcat-6.0.29 \\ bin but it will not contain any information.
The location of this file depends on the mechanism for starting tomcat: with startup.bat, it is in apache-tomcat-6.0.29 \\ bin.
careful what Tomcat can edit this file: it will probably be a problem if Tomcat service is running or if he is in a Program Files directory. For all these reasons I have encouraged you to start to install your own version of Tomcat test.
For the report is the maximum detail, you need sources.
In my example, they are in the Eclipse project: C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Documents \\ eclipsewsp \\ TestCobertura \\ src.
It will generate the report in the subdirectory of the directory rapportCobertura TestCouverture. To do this we create the subdirectory rapportCobertura
We replace the directory TestCouverture \\ cobertura-1.9.4.1 and you type the following command:
cobertura-report.bat-source C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Documents \\ eclipsewsp \\ TestCobertura \\ src "- datafile" C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Desktop \\ TestCouverture \\ apache-tomcat-6.0.29 \\ bin \\ cobertura.ser " - Destination C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Desktop \\ TestCouverture \\ rapportCobertura "" C: \\ Users \\ MONCOMPTEWINDOWS \\ Documents \\ eclipsewsp \\ TestCobertura \\ build \\ classes "
For information, options used are:
- source: the source directory
- datafile: file location cobertura.ser
- destination directory where the report is generated
The last parameter is the location of the original class files .
careful to use quotation marks "to avoid problems in areas of potential long names. The result should be:
Cobertura 1.9.4.1 - GNU GPL License (NO WARRANTY) - See COPYRIGHT file Cobertura
: Loaded information is 23 classes.
Report time: 569ms
TestCouverture In the directory \\ rapportCobertura you should see a series of html file with the file index.html.
If the directory is empty, check the name and path of your various files and directories. Unfortunately the message is the same between success and failure.
To view the report, double click index.html.
So when you see the detail of a class, you do not code for the class but the message
fr/natsystem/demonatjet/gettingstarted/DemoNatJet40.java Unable to locate. Have you spécifié The source directory?
is that you forgot to specify the source option of the command or the name of the directory containing your source is incorrect.
Cobertura and AspectJ and Spring
Cobertura and AspectJ module of spring both use proxy mechanisms colliding. It is therefore possible that when running a class exploited, you get the following message (where the same class not manipulated works perfectly):
org.springframework.beans.ConversionNotSupportedException: Failed to convert property value of type '$ Proxy17 ministre net.sourceforge.cobertura.coveragedata.HasBeenInstrumented, org. springframework.aop.SpringProxy, org.springframework.aop.framework.Advised 'to required type' fr.j2ltho.impression.ImpressionManager 'for property' impressionManager ';
nested exception IS java.lang.IllegalStateException: Can not convert value of type [$ Proxy17 ministre net.sourceforge.cobertura.coveragedata.HasBeenInstrumented, org.springframework.aop.SpringProxy, org.springframework.aop.framework.Advised] required to type [fr.j2ltho.impression.ImpressionManager] for property 'impressionManager': no matching editors or conversion Strategy found
org.springframework.beans.BeanWrapperImpl.convertForProperty (BeanWrapperImpl.java: 462)
org.springframework.beans.BeanWrapperImpl.convertForProperty (BeanWrapperImpl.java: 462)
In my Spring configuration files j 'had the following statement:
\u0026lt;context:annotation-config/>
For Spring this is the second flight with AspectJ \u0026lt;aop:aspectj-autoproxy/> following default.
To solve the problem I just added the following line in bold:
\u0026lt;context:annotation-config/>
\u0026lt;aop:aspectj-autoproxy proxy-target-class="true" />
This was my error disappear and I could continue my tests. Conclusion
We did a quick tour of using Cobertura in a JEE context. You can now validate that your tests cover all of your code.
The functioning of these tests rely on the ability of the application server to find the right file cobertura.ser and update it. The location where a server application seeks to file remains a mystery to me. In the case of a Tomcat server started with startup.bat it is in the Tomcat directory / bin. In the other ace, I'll let you discover its location. One solution is to run your server on classes manipulated without adding the file cobertura.ser. It will at the end of executing a new file cobertura.ser empty but will indicate its location.
Another difficulty with using an application server is the termination mechanism to be used. Cobertura appears to place some sort of hook on a certain type of violent output (including the Ctrl C). It must pass through this hook, to put an Updated file cobertura.ser. For certain server and some configuration, stop triggering the hook can be difficult to implement. For Tomcat, simply start with Startup.bat and stop it with Ctrl C.
I plan to write quickly, a second post that will focus on the desirability and value of using Cobertura in a project.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Head Microgel Radical Mp
Hotel and Restaurant ... Charming
Weekend stroll. We booked a hotel room in a charming and picturesque. Three little stars sparkle on the door. We were received with warmth and simplicity, then escorted to our room.
Froufrou lock, the door opens and I close instantly. An artificial flood of information hit my face, my brain shrivels up and cut my nose to the network. But in the split second needed to block the flow, I still have time to identify an Eau d'Issey, particularly embedded in the cucumber juice canned.
alarm and panic: I'm not going to sleep in such an uproar smell!
And yet, as the room is lovely with its lovely view over the park, the bathroom perfect, harmonious décor, perfect composition for glossy magazine. But loud perfume. Absurd and haunting. The employee left the room very happy for having made us discover a well-ordered if and when the door closed, my radar is switched on. Nose in the air, I try to locate the fragrance in a corner of the ceiling. In fact, he sits on a table: a bunch of spaghetti, planted in a long elegant vase, bathed in a green liquid and pulse generously a ball of invisible swirls, forming a savory salad indigestible pebbles, flowers lotus and sticks drifted by ocean currents. Calonne, salicylates, and a large dose of nonadienal. I catch the object of the offense with fingertips and shoo out at the other end of the terrace. The window will remain open all night while we dine with our friends. The room was cold when we returned, the smell is always present. I fell asleep, his face stuck in my T-shirt. Cuddly and calm in my nose. Before sinking, I thought to my father on these trips, often envelops his pillow with his shirt because he hardly bear the smell of the local laundry! I remember a little fun of him. But here I am finally my turn trapped by the nose. My sense of smell becomes, over time, more and more sensitive. Or we have a small inner diva in Ellena?
The next day we were invited to lunch in a restaurant in the heart of the old city of Geneva. We cross the threshold quietly chatting and other things, but suddenly I interrupt my babbling, because an entire team of Rugby Man After the game, takes me in his arms and embraces me vigorously. In fact, an extraordinary smell of sweat hot, wet socks and urine grabs fresh, full nose cheese melted, browned garlic and white wine boiled. Yum. I had forgotten that the city feels the foot when the first cold. Facts Winter terribly pervasive, that my childhood memory has emerged without qualms, as soon as we left the area. Probably because I did not like the cheese fondue at the time. Oppressive smell, bitter tart white wine, and pieces of stale bread: nothing that can not win, so my appetite a little girl. Since I changed my mind, but I regret to always keep track thick on my skin and my clothes. Yes, yes, a Diva, I tell you that no longer supports or perfumes too elaborate and noisy hotels, nor the simple and invigorating aromas of good food a little ... vulgar? That does not stop me from devouring my meal. Yum! And change me later. With a lot of clothes to the laundry scented "ouste krapoto" and "greedy schlingueur" to regain a calibrated neutral as it should since the 70's: white musk and flaps surfactant aldehyde cruelly. Faute de mieux ...
Oops! I forgot to leave the hotel to report on the table in the room, scented bouquet of spaghetti.
For Clothilde, Gabriel and Alex. Again thank you for this weekend
Thanks to Helen for giving me the idea of "spaghetti" porous osier rods, which by capillary action, suck and spread very effectively liquid perfume.
Finally, this text is dedicated to all "sissy" of Blair, myself included!
Froufrou lock, the door opens and I close instantly. An artificial flood of information hit my face, my brain shrivels up and cut my nose to the network. But in the split second needed to block the flow, I still have time to identify an Eau d'Issey, particularly embedded in the cucumber juice canned.
alarm and panic: I'm not going to sleep in such an uproar smell!
And yet, as the room is lovely with its lovely view over the park, the bathroom perfect, harmonious décor, perfect composition for glossy magazine. But loud perfume. Absurd and haunting. The employee left the room very happy for having made us discover a well-ordered if and when the door closed, my radar is switched on. Nose in the air, I try to locate the fragrance in a corner of the ceiling. In fact, he sits on a table: a bunch of spaghetti, planted in a long elegant vase, bathed in a green liquid and pulse generously a ball of invisible swirls, forming a savory salad indigestible pebbles, flowers lotus and sticks drifted by ocean currents. Calonne, salicylates, and a large dose of nonadienal. I catch the object of the offense with fingertips and shoo out at the other end of the terrace. The window will remain open all night while we dine with our friends. The room was cold when we returned, the smell is always present. I fell asleep, his face stuck in my T-shirt. Cuddly and calm in my nose. Before sinking, I thought to my father on these trips, often envelops his pillow with his shirt because he hardly bear the smell of the local laundry! I remember a little fun of him. But here I am finally my turn trapped by the nose. My sense of smell becomes, over time, more and more sensitive. Or we have a small inner diva in Ellena?
The next day we were invited to lunch in a restaurant in the heart of the old city of Geneva. We cross the threshold quietly chatting and other things, but suddenly I interrupt my babbling, because an entire team of Rugby Man After the game, takes me in his arms and embraces me vigorously. In fact, an extraordinary smell of sweat hot, wet socks and urine grabs fresh, full nose cheese melted, browned garlic and white wine boiled. Yum. I had forgotten that the city feels the foot when the first cold. Facts Winter terribly pervasive, that my childhood memory has emerged without qualms, as soon as we left the area. Probably because I did not like the cheese fondue at the time. Oppressive smell, bitter tart white wine, and pieces of stale bread: nothing that can not win, so my appetite a little girl. Since I changed my mind, but I regret to always keep track thick on my skin and my clothes. Yes, yes, a Diva, I tell you that no longer supports or perfumes too elaborate and noisy hotels, nor the simple and invigorating aromas of good food a little ... vulgar? That does not stop me from devouring my meal. Yum! And change me later. With a lot of clothes to the laundry scented "ouste krapoto" and "greedy schlingueur" to regain a calibrated neutral as it should since the 70's: white musk and flaps surfactant aldehyde cruelly. Faute de mieux ...
Oops! I forgot to leave the hotel to report on the table in the room, scented bouquet of spaghetti.
For Clothilde, Gabriel and Alex. Again thank you for this weekend
Thanks to Helen for giving me the idea of "spaghetti" porous osier rods, which by capillary action, suck and spread very effectively liquid perfume.
Finally, this text is dedicated to all "sissy" of Blair, myself included!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Srb 1800 Schwinn Instruction
On the way to finish counting GNF X
It could be the title of a film Marc Dorcel and this change of focus to explain that there was no post on this blog for one month and a half ....
AND no ... I paint, I play but not the time to take pictures or comment.
This message is informational and intended to see that I'll be at the GNF X, ultimate edition, Gerzat (63) starting tomorrow evening (late). Saturday will SFJ participatory demo of his game and Sunday we will Golgothik other things (eden tournament for me).
We will stock our figurines JFJ, there were some angel face and a few Artemia and a lot of Gina / Djena (6 € one, 15 € 3).
Come give us a quick hello!
Concentrated Foamy And Smelly Urine
On a bench 2
There is a bench on the road that leads to Cabris Grasse. Narrow and worn. Black, have been brushed by the sun and rain. An isolated bench, nailed to the edge of the pavement at a time when journeys were often on foot, where the car was not routinely used to fetch bread. A bench to get tired of walking legs, happy to be there for a moment of respite conducive to reverie, and chewing the crust of the baguette, bought a few minutes earlier. This resting place was not chosen or designed by chance. It is on the verge of a vacuum. As a modest fixed pin in the notch of the mountain between two wooded hills. For our light escapes to the extraordinary spectacle of valleys and hills which succeed wavy blue and purple, and then focuses on the mercury drop from Lake St. Cassian mound and finally, on the foothills of the Esterel at the end of the year. A bench at the threshold of the winds that rush between the gullies, slide along the meandering roads that burrow from the sea to the hinterland, then deposit the earnings of their plunder at the feet of the cul-de- bag. Sitting on the bench stunted, I lean my nose in the air. I close my eyes and forget the houses that stain the slopes, I lock my heard rumors of the circulation in my back, then I disappear under the skirts of the mountain. Corona cold resin. The wind is icy, but the pine forest below breathes a sweet smell of pepper, lime and sugar cane. I distinguish the scent of olives mature: smell of tar and wet leather. That of the humus of course, hot and bitter, because these days the rain fell in abundance. I turn my head in search of new convulsions, or a fragrant ribbon that I missed. I catch the end of a braid, the twists around my nose and discern the characteristic smell of cypress Provence subtle and striking sap fruity flavored peel carrots and cucumbers. No residue of iodine and salt. The sea breeze does not reach so far, except the day of the big yellow wind, which occasionally crosses the Mediterranean, carrying in its turn, a sample of sand from the Sahara, a flurry of shredded seaweed, and a laughing stock of fish particles dried. But at that moment, the breeze is as usual in early fall when temperatures drop slowly, so that the moisture content increases: I found an abundance of perfume chalk limestone mountains, the heavier and sticky, slightly musty, clay, because the slopes here are also formed by clays. The remugle burns scattered from time, which I note the many frayed white toupees, winding through the valleys and hills are obscured by such long hair diaphanous witches. Finally, in a discreet corner, the strange smell from the bark of evergreen oak, bitter, bitter and metallic, close to the flavor of a dark chocolate bar, which first took a blow hot, then suddenly fridge.
I shudder. The wind pierces my jacket a bit too light when the sun suddenly disappears behind a cloud. I'm cold. Discomfort and grabs my nose becomes secondary. It is time to return the stale smell of my car and continue my path. I give
with regret the bench, the wonderful and peaceful, promising to return in January, warmly clad, to breathe the scent of mimosa blossom Navy.
I shudder. The wind pierces my jacket a bit too light when the sun suddenly disappears behind a cloud. I'm cold. Discomfort and grabs my nose becomes secondary. It is time to return the stale smell of my car and continue my path. I give
with regret the bench, the wonderful and peaceful, promising to return in January, warmly clad, to breathe the scent of mimosa blossom Navy.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Unknown Name Unknown Number Calls
Coffee
Rendezvous caught in a pub on the corner of Paris. Whatever the station, there is always a purlin, a few tables and chairs to accommodate us. A small black bar, an espresso in the dining room, a café terrace, time passes. My appointment is overdue. I jinx around. The narrow street is strewn with autumn walkers who musardent and enjoy the rays of sun still tender. The scent of coffee tickles my nostrils. Warm and severe. Velvety and burned. Short breakaway. I remember a book written by Vicki Baum (1888-1960), which I forgot the title. The story takes place in the United States, circa 30, in a very poor family. The mother prepares coffee, which costs a fortune, and carefully distributes a small cup each family member. The bodies stretched in their chairs, while the single sip burning is scrupulously savored and remembered, long popular on the tongue. A girl, however, does not drink his coffee. She gets up and flip the cup over the sink, his face looked on the tiny and short dark waterfall. She is enjoying the amazing fragrance. What a waste, cry the family! And the mother replied that everyone has the right to enjoy his coffee as he sees fit. I had experienced in reading these lines, the same reaction that shocked the whole family feel is so brief and fleeting when the act is a matter of taste of food. Feel is useless. The smell escapes without a trace. Error. I was then a cowardly reaction. Thereafter I totally forgot this book, its history and its protagonists, but I preserved the memory of the smell guilty. The smell pleasure. Often odors are responsible for shame. Those that are concealed, those that are leaking, those who make us blush. When they inspire a feeling hedonistic, they are popular with amateurs, claimed by connoisseurs, but once reviled during periods of insecurity, downward mobility, not to mention a few hiccups religions. Smell is a godsend, a fragile moment of fleeting enjoyment. Curiosity and tolerance. In fact, this girl took and offered the mildest of resistance to adversity. I took years to be estimated. I taste more odors since.
My nose over my cup, I realize once again the richness of this sensual fragrance unique and identifiable. And then as I see every time the taste is not as tasty, just sharp and acidic. But he did not come to mind to empty my cup on the cup to nourish myself corona. I prefer to let my trainer nose, taste and fragrance harsh and severe decomposition of leaves, the woody, spicy Italian trend, the toilet water from my neighbor at the table, the smell of leek broth underarm Server which passes air stream, the scent shampoo loop, the Poodle Lady, who has been groomed. Tien, he raises his leg and sprayed the bonnet of the car: dirty urine, the mixture is strange. Small messages, quiet hobby. Go and goings of passers-by. A shadow bows, sweet smell of coconut, bitter nicotine, my appointment has arrived. An excellent reason to use a coffee.
My nose over my cup, I realize once again the richness of this sensual fragrance unique and identifiable. And then as I see every time the taste is not as tasty, just sharp and acidic. But he did not come to mind to empty my cup on the cup to nourish myself corona. I prefer to let my trainer nose, taste and fragrance harsh and severe decomposition of leaves, the woody, spicy Italian trend, the toilet water from my neighbor at the table, the smell of leek broth underarm Server which passes air stream, the scent shampoo loop, the Poodle Lady, who has been groomed. Tien, he raises his leg and sprayed the bonnet of the car: dirty urine, the mixture is strange. Small messages, quiet hobby. Go and goings of passers-by. A shadow bows, sweet smell of coconut, bitter nicotine, my appointment has arrived. An excellent reason to use a coffee.
for flora and our appointment postponed indefinitely ... I do not despair to achieve one day. And for all those moments on a corner coffee table chatting, reading, or to dream ...
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Buy Disturbed Piercing
Dishes
Lemon Soap Dish French Crapote zest for generations, while our hands at the sink bassinent a zealous and careful movement. Light chatter when you're with others, dreams most often in solitary, but always the same tools, sponge and squeeze bottle to take this small bath. Pressure when the foam is too light, a little hot water to dilute, steam clean we are reassured. Fat is degummed by citric acid, the kitchen smells of hot lemon, sour and metallic, you could almost forget the color of the final broth bowl. In recent years marketing has tried a few notes of modernities. Vinegar, red fruit, cocktail grapefruit / lime green flowers in our regions. But nothing helped. The French is its citrus pressed. Sake of efficiency. Proved. Tested. For many families of housewives under 50 years, and more obviously.
Originally the choice of the corona, a U.S. company, which had the clever idea of a lemon-scented dishwashing liquid, at a time when France still know at Marseille in sequins.
for hand care, lemon. Not for the dishwasher.
Simply because at that time women took care of the whiteness of their skin, and that our grandmothers used to spend their hands in lemon juice for bleaching, cleaning their nails and destroy the miasma of peeled vegetables.
Before all things, seduce women with a scent of truth.
Over the years, the term "care lemon" was gradually replaced, unless we become aware, through the principle of "pickled lemon. Whatever the hand, is the dish to be bleached. Change of manners. Evolution invisible but inexorable society that moves its centers of priorities and adapts to everyday movements to a new present. Small changes in our habits, without apparent turmoil.
Today. Sniff.
Our benchmarks are changing before our sinks.
Lemon slowly is the trunk, and will also zester. The wind of organic, natural and aromatherapy breath under our noses. The air of nothing, before the end of the radius without our supermarket hand hesitates, advance, and then withdrew. Lemon? And first, why lemon? What is the scientific reason?
herbs from the garden is good.
more natural than lemon, and less aggressive.
Basil, Eucalyptus and Rosemary, thyme and savory are the new bullies of fat and dirt, which over the market, save our environment. Clear, green label, small insects and garlands of herbs: all is said on the bottle! The benefits of vegetable and tea together, for the happiness of our planet, and our hands. Clean up
bobo is the new creed
And for our sinks
A new scent!
anethole, camphor, and the entire pharmacopeia ...
Meals and speculation
For all the ways
The last dish water remains constant over the decades: disorder and Maroni.
As for the smell, we all agree: disgusting!
Dishes ... damn. 
Lemon Soap Dish French Crapote zest for generations, while our hands at the sink bassinent a zealous and careful movement. Light chatter when you're with others, dreams most often in solitary, but always the same tools, sponge and squeeze bottle to take this small bath. Pressure when the foam is too light, a little hot water to dilute, steam clean we are reassured. Fat is degummed by citric acid, the kitchen smells of hot lemon, sour and metallic, you could almost forget the color of the final broth bowl. In recent years marketing has tried a few notes of modernities. Vinegar, red fruit, cocktail grapefruit / lime green flowers in our regions. But nothing helped. The French is its citrus pressed. Sake of efficiency. Proved. Tested. For many families of housewives under 50 years, and more obviously.
Originally the choice of the corona, a U.S. company, which had the clever idea of a lemon-scented dishwashing liquid, at a time when France still know at Marseille in sequins.
for hand care, lemon. Not for the dishwasher.
Simply because at that time women took care of the whiteness of their skin, and that our grandmothers used to spend their hands in lemon juice for bleaching, cleaning their nails and destroy the miasma of peeled vegetables.
Before all things, seduce women with a scent of truth.
Over the years, the term "care lemon" was gradually replaced, unless we become aware, through the principle of "pickled lemon. Whatever the hand, is the dish to be bleached. Change of manners. Evolution invisible but inexorable society that moves its centers of priorities and adapts to everyday movements to a new present. Small changes in our habits, without apparent turmoil.
Today. Sniff.
Our benchmarks are changing before our sinks.
Lemon slowly is the trunk, and will also zester. The wind of organic, natural and aromatherapy breath under our noses. The air of nothing, before the end of the radius without our supermarket hand hesitates, advance, and then withdrew. Lemon? And first, why lemon? What is the scientific reason?
herbs from the garden is good.
more natural than lemon, and less aggressive.
Basil, Eucalyptus and Rosemary, thyme and savory are the new bullies of fat and dirt, which over the market, save our environment. Clear, green label, small insects and garlands of herbs: all is said on the bottle! The benefits of vegetable and tea together, for the happiness of our planet, and our hands. Clean up
bobo is the new creed
And for our sinks
A new scent!
anethole, camphor, and the entire pharmacopeia ...
Meals and speculation
For all the ways
The last dish water remains constant over the decades: disorder and Maroni.
As for the smell, we all agree: disgusting!
Dishes ... damn.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Facebook Chat Birthday Cake
broken ... Money has no smell
Hot Topic. Concern of a generation. Since the 80s, money buys happiness. Odor and flavor of a consumer society. Tickets
have a particular stock depending on paper used. During my travels I found the softness of the dollar note olive green pound English bowl of cereal, oatmeal variety, French francs, Swiss franc wooded, and peppery notes almost metallic notes of Laos.
parts per cons have a universal scent of dirt. Acid and sour with a back aroma of molasses, mix of sweat, grease and dust variety.
Cards do not talk much. Virtual money, they are satisfied with a tiny whiff of raw plastic, barely raised when the nose goes to the tape. Imagine if one day soon the banks still in the mood for profit advertising, offering credit cards to fragrance of your choice: strawberry, chocolate, floral, woody or coconut to soak up a feeling of satiety at each handling up to indigestion ...?
have a particular stock depending on paper used. During my travels I found the softness of the dollar note olive green pound English bowl of cereal, oatmeal variety, French francs, Swiss franc wooded, and peppery notes almost metallic notes of Laos.
parts per cons have a universal scent of dirt. Acid and sour with a back aroma of molasses, mix of sweat, grease and dust variety.
Cards do not talk much. Virtual money, they are satisfied with a tiny whiff of raw plastic, barely raised when the nose goes to the tape. Imagine if one day soon the banks still in the mood for profit advertising, offering credit cards to fragrance of your choice: strawberry, chocolate, floral, woody or coconut to soak up a feeling of satiety at each handling up to indigestion ...?
Monday, October 4, 2010
Short Sympathy Comments
markers
As usual, I awoke to the sound of the radio. The buzz then accompanies the customary breakfast, topics journalists punctuate the flow of minutes with benchmarks, so that we are all dressed, brushed, cleaned up, on the hour, ready to begin our day. This morning, my attention was suddenly caught by a sensitive word: smell. I interrupt my activities and is listening to the commentary. The story concerns the training of police dogs to remember, and then recognize the smell of "bad" on the crime scene. Obviously, the bad guys do not develop a characteristic odor, but each has its own individual olfactory identity, like a fingerprint. Dogs make the distinction. Man, no. Finally, except in our immediate and familiar. I know the specific smell of my children than my boyfriend, my parents ... But I'm not aware of that from my grocer. Unless it becomes my lover, but that is another story that I do not wish to dwell, I do not wish to have trouble with my dear husband. Thus, I can recognize a blind near the smell of her skin. But I do not identify a simple relationship, an office colleague for example. I'm not talking about perfume, but the smell of our skin. Dogs, however, have the ability to identify and store hundreds of scented markers of unknown persons. It makes them sniff a tube in which was kept the smell of thug, and hop, hop, trot, he's that takes you to the lair of the criminal. Aha, caught to sweat!
With a little practice a perfumer could he ... no, really, no interest. I abandon all silly rantings. Otherwise, to make a character in detective fiction.
Imagine a guy like Cyrano nose boat, which picks up and gets everything that passes under Blair. Hands behind his back, face bent, it sucks the fluids of victims, protagonists, sniffing the atmosphere, the atmosphere of places. He noted a smell of dried skin under the nails painted in the switchboard, a remnant of curd on the blouse of the stepmother, he also discovered on the carpet where the victim git. He notes and identifies a strong smell of whiskey 20 years old, who escapes from an overturned glass on the desktop, but the lips of the victim are not moist, and wham! The culprit is the duo Secretary / stepmother. Explanations. The operator has the blood boiled up pov 'type accidentally stumbled on the carpet, by giving him his morning coffee. Panicked, she tried to dry with a Kleenex, her boss. But tiny fragments of skin were torn, and the dermis has slipped under her fingernails. While the step-doche glad to get rid of that bulky man immediately responded, and camouflaged the case in a common accident alcohol.
Well, I know, all this does not hold the road very well: it is difficult to kill someone with a hot latte. But hey. It is an attempt to set the scene. The first steps of a new character in the strange world of Beacons ...
With a little practice a perfumer could he ... no, really, no interest. I abandon all silly rantings. Otherwise, to make a character in detective fiction.
Imagine a guy like Cyrano nose boat, which picks up and gets everything that passes under Blair. Hands behind his back, face bent, it sucks the fluids of victims, protagonists, sniffing the atmosphere, the atmosphere of places. He noted a smell of dried skin under the nails painted in the switchboard, a remnant of curd on the blouse of the stepmother, he also discovered on the carpet where the victim git. He notes and identifies a strong smell of whiskey 20 years old, who escapes from an overturned glass on the desktop, but the lips of the victim are not moist, and wham! The culprit is the duo Secretary / stepmother. Explanations. The operator has the blood boiled up pov 'type accidentally stumbled on the carpet, by giving him his morning coffee. Panicked, she tried to dry with a Kleenex, her boss. But tiny fragments of skin were torn, and the dermis has slipped under her fingernails. While the step-doche glad to get rid of that bulky man immediately responded, and camouflaged the case in a common accident alcohol.
Well, I know, all this does not hold the road very well: it is difficult to kill someone with a hot latte. But hey. It is an attempt to set the scene. The first steps of a new character in the strange world of Beacons ...
Monday, September 27, 2010
Mansfield Holiday Zoom Mm
Latch Elevator
I maintain the foundation of my memories gathered during the last nearly 18 years of occupation. This morning I run drills olfaction, as I sometimes do regularly to shake up the drawers of my memory that have a natural tendency to gripper. I feel the buttons, bits of paper and neutral white, soaked a small amount of very dilute raw, natural or synthetic. I have to find the name of this material. Quickly. Mechanically.
students, we practiced gymnastics this essential, first learning the art of the perfumer. We have detailed at length in our books smell, familiar or unknown, filed on smelling, then we have memorized, repeating our daily exercises blind instinct, as a game, to have no more hesitation. Taking cues abstract fragile, sometimes difficult to verbalize, often loaded with personal memories.
Geneva
School, the first words that my brain collide this morning when I pass the smelling strip under my nose. Then a great white.
No name on this product.
Yet I know this material and use it from time to time. But at that moment, I feel empty. A strange sensation that amuses and intrigues me. I straightened the head, take a look outside the office and rinsed my eye on the landscape. Then I rub my nose against my sweater and sucks the familiar smell of my skin. Ploy staff to the task sliders to zero. I try a new sniff paper talkative.
Geneva
Grey, all crumbly and disperses. Blocking. Nah, I will not go!
I wait a few seconds. I operate a void in my channels nose tip detection and careful with the real impression that extends a few millimeters, while my nostrils spread their wings to the maximum!
I force my means of analysis, my old reflexes screening mumble a descriptive vocabulary of elementary school. Honey, almond, dust ... but I can not say more because the connection is suddenly cut.
Jove.
No longer nose. Turning to the head.
Landslide, I leave the reality and plunge into contemplation.
On reflection, I see the word Geneva arises as soon as the component passes under my nose, from the first sessions in olfaction ISIPCA. So the phenomenon is ancient. Yet this is the first time he muzzles all other forms of introspection. What is this product that prevents me from feeling? Why I can not give him a name? As I want to understand why my nose runs up the same word, the same image blurred, I resist the need to leave my office to ask my assistant's name disruptive. For today I have a picture. Vague and gray, but clearly present. A physical sensation as well. Sweetness, wrapped in embarrassment. Something to flush my knowledge or just be in a simple and sensitive. I'll delve into the psychology of bazaar, self-analysis of counter? I finally selected the temptation to "Madeleine". : I enjoyed a kind of flavor of today and I operate a large gap with my past.
Geneva School
My daughter
Moving
My daughter has just changed school.
At the same time, but years ago, I discovered my new school in Geneva. Today the perfumes of the landscape, air, roads are not the same as in this city deep in the Alps. And yet. I taste the same smell and has the same fears. As my daughter, when we enter this new school. Each morning a hot blast of sweat of children, soap and paper, we jumped in his face when we pass reception. I let my daughter, hesitating on the verge of tears at the edge of class. I leave the scene, and, unconscious gesture, I fly. Nose rinsed encephalogram dish, I go to my own activities.
Yes, but.
Exercise in the morning. Muscle cramp and small. Hey, it gets stuck on the sidelines.
I take back my piece of blotting paper and agree to watch the smell. I finally understand what my brakes. A tiny, delicate scent, white glue, sour milk, jam spoiled. A scent of kindergarten. Diluted and outdated.
I am far from the definition forged on the benches for another school, many years later, pushing away the word Geneva and associated images.
Benzyl alcohol: semen, honey, white flowers and a trace of almond.
Now, I must also say: loneliness, anxiety and curiosity, with the emotions of a child 5 years.
students, we practiced gymnastics this essential, first learning the art of the perfumer. We have detailed at length in our books smell, familiar or unknown, filed on smelling, then we have memorized, repeating our daily exercises blind instinct, as a game, to have no more hesitation. Taking cues abstract fragile, sometimes difficult to verbalize, often loaded with personal memories.
Geneva
School, the first words that my brain collide this morning when I pass the smelling strip under my nose. Then a great white.
No name on this product.
Yet I know this material and use it from time to time. But at that moment, I feel empty. A strange sensation that amuses and intrigues me. I straightened the head, take a look outside the office and rinsed my eye on the landscape. Then I rub my nose against my sweater and sucks the familiar smell of my skin. Ploy staff to the task sliders to zero. I try a new sniff paper talkative.
Geneva
Grey, all crumbly and disperses. Blocking. Nah, I will not go!
I wait a few seconds. I operate a void in my channels nose tip detection and careful with the real impression that extends a few millimeters, while my nostrils spread their wings to the maximum!
I force my means of analysis, my old reflexes screening mumble a descriptive vocabulary of elementary school. Honey, almond, dust ... but I can not say more because the connection is suddenly cut.
Jove.
No longer nose. Turning to the head.
Landslide, I leave the reality and plunge into contemplation.
On reflection, I see the word Geneva arises as soon as the component passes under my nose, from the first sessions in olfaction ISIPCA. So the phenomenon is ancient. Yet this is the first time he muzzles all other forms of introspection. What is this product that prevents me from feeling? Why I can not give him a name? As I want to understand why my nose runs up the same word, the same image blurred, I resist the need to leave my office to ask my assistant's name disruptive. For today I have a picture. Vague and gray, but clearly present. A physical sensation as well. Sweetness, wrapped in embarrassment. Something to flush my knowledge or just be in a simple and sensitive. I'll delve into the psychology of bazaar, self-analysis of counter? I finally selected the temptation to "Madeleine". : I enjoyed a kind of flavor of today and I operate a large gap with my past.
Geneva School
My daughter
Moving
My daughter has just changed school.
At the same time, but years ago, I discovered my new school in Geneva. Today the perfumes of the landscape, air, roads are not the same as in this city deep in the Alps. And yet. I taste the same smell and has the same fears. As my daughter, when we enter this new school. Each morning a hot blast of sweat of children, soap and paper, we jumped in his face when we pass reception. I let my daughter, hesitating on the verge of tears at the edge of class. I leave the scene, and, unconscious gesture, I fly. Nose rinsed encephalogram dish, I go to my own activities.
Yes, but.
Exercise in the morning. Muscle cramp and small. Hey, it gets stuck on the sidelines.
I take back my piece of blotting paper and agree to watch the smell. I finally understand what my brakes. A tiny, delicate scent, white glue, sour milk, jam spoiled. A scent of kindergarten. Diluted and outdated.
I am far from the definition forged on the benches for another school, many years later, pushing away the word Geneva and associated images.
Benzyl alcohol: semen, honey, white flowers and a trace of almond.
Now, I must also say: loneliness, anxiety and curiosity, with the emotions of a child 5 years.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Katies Playground 2010
A cube mechanics. Incidental music.
box odor traveling. With ups and downs. Opens and closes periodically. Swallows and spits out a small messenger humanity.
9 am. Hot coffee, fresh fragrances, deodorant and hair conquerors flagpoles.
Hello, said the perfume. I pushed a little sorry I take instead. I hugged briefly, I twisted, and Voas passes between his legs, behind the loins of your neighbor. In a burst, a hand movement to check a hairstyle, I return you tickle the nose. Squinting does point I'm not stopping. So, I got there, I go down. Oh, sorry I still have a little brief remainder of patchouli evaporating finally devoured by the huge fellow who enters the cube scrolls deployed. American know-how, cap aldehyde and muscles of white cedar taste of chalk. The nostrils squeak, a weary eyes behold the gray ceiling of the box, when are we there? Phew, it does not linger. Escapes, then lost in the corridors of 4em. A moment of silence. Mocha resumed his little jingle peaceful then sweet waves splash the cramped space. Cuckoo, "said another fellow, I am the ball of vanilla, I bounced in all directions without being able to restrain myself, and as I am wrapped in caramel liquid I leave invisible traces on your arms, your shoulders when you brushing me. How amusing, I am a scent that sticks! I notice the smiles of greed, sometimes it pushes me a sigh. Whatever, I run my rounds, then file at full speed as soon as thrush and seafront link. Pure synthetic air. It soared. Why, no, the next stop, although the cube continues its upward travel, we fall flush of daisies level grass clippings. Grass to cows or bunch of bananas? Whatever the label, the same molecule anyway. The early delivery
carefully paid, the cube, then, operates often empty during the day. It stores in the meantime. It sometimes breaks down as soon as the doors open.
Ah! Finally somebody. Hello, welcome to the box. You know me, I'm Shalimar, director of product 5em? You do not see me of course, but you recognize my scent. I moved here 20 minutes ago, for a journey of 3 floors. But I have so many shoulders and, I confess, I miss a little levity. But what a wake ... do not you think? Yes, yes, make the peony the 8em, who unsuccessfully tried to outdo the vanillin-civet of the dowager in 1925. Next stop, the two gossips strangled. A hurricane sweeps emotionless and scatters flowers and amber. "To your wishes," replied sweetly pretty girl with peony. "Berci," replied the man going full wall that seeps through every pore of his skin ointment eucalyptus, orange blossom in oral spray, and the old tobacco clinging to the fibers of his jacket. The man sniffs. The cube does not budge, and continues to rake. Until tonight.
18 hours. No coffee. Some traces of sweat, a whiff of wipes, hair and soft eyes at half mast. Pear shampoo brandishes his half empty baskets, WD mango nosed version pinecone. Peony murmur a little, but brave breathless, some fruit syrups to support his speech. Shalimar boards, bright and serene, and still takes a lot of space, sorry, sorry we shoot please. Vanilla sugar barley, true to herself, ruffling a few people, patchouli flourishes and becomes hot. Large protein musks, so valiant, fusants, stunning and furious in the morning, feeling deflated and the turn sour for the most part. When is it that men will they stop abusing anti-humidity deodorant?
Night falls. The cube stopped. In her dark womb, the last whorls are slowly stretched, then digested brewed. The scent of cleaning agents, lemon and jasmine metal diaphanous ultimate participants sarabande, are also dissolved and swallowed. Yet in a corner a few particles resist again and again. They accumulate in silence, forgotten benefit of dirt to protect themselves and each morning when the doors open to welcome the first shipment, a gust of wind, which rub soles and release, and labdanum Shalamar a little messed up, blind, bald, but identifiable soars again. "Hi I revoilou! "The day
resumed.
box odor traveling. With ups and downs. Opens and closes periodically. Swallows and spits out a small messenger humanity.
9 am. Hot coffee, fresh fragrances, deodorant and hair conquerors flagpoles.
Hello, said the perfume. I pushed a little sorry I take instead. I hugged briefly, I twisted, and Voas passes between his legs, behind the loins of your neighbor. In a burst, a hand movement to check a hairstyle, I return you tickle the nose. Squinting does point I'm not stopping. So, I got there, I go down. Oh, sorry I still have a little brief remainder of patchouli evaporating finally devoured by the huge fellow who enters the cube scrolls deployed. American know-how, cap aldehyde and muscles of white cedar taste of chalk. The nostrils squeak, a weary eyes behold the gray ceiling of the box, when are we there? Phew, it does not linger. Escapes, then lost in the corridors of 4em. A moment of silence. Mocha resumed his little jingle peaceful then sweet waves splash the cramped space. Cuckoo, "said another fellow, I am the ball of vanilla, I bounced in all directions without being able to restrain myself, and as I am wrapped in caramel liquid I leave invisible traces on your arms, your shoulders when you brushing me. How amusing, I am a scent that sticks! I notice the smiles of greed, sometimes it pushes me a sigh. Whatever, I run my rounds, then file at full speed as soon as thrush and seafront link. Pure synthetic air. It soared. Why, no, the next stop, although the cube continues its upward travel, we fall flush of daisies level grass clippings. Grass to cows or bunch of bananas? Whatever the label, the same molecule anyway. The early delivery
carefully paid, the cube, then, operates often empty during the day. It stores in the meantime. It sometimes breaks down as soon as the doors open.
Ah! Finally somebody. Hello, welcome to the box. You know me, I'm Shalimar, director of product 5em? You do not see me of course, but you recognize my scent. I moved here 20 minutes ago, for a journey of 3 floors. But I have so many shoulders and, I confess, I miss a little levity. But what a wake ... do not you think? Yes, yes, make the peony the 8em, who unsuccessfully tried to outdo the vanillin-civet of the dowager in 1925. Next stop, the two gossips strangled. A hurricane sweeps emotionless and scatters flowers and amber. "To your wishes," replied sweetly pretty girl with peony. "Berci," replied the man going full wall that seeps through every pore of his skin ointment eucalyptus, orange blossom in oral spray, and the old tobacco clinging to the fibers of his jacket. The man sniffs. The cube does not budge, and continues to rake. Until tonight.
18 hours. No coffee. Some traces of sweat, a whiff of wipes, hair and soft eyes at half mast. Pear shampoo brandishes his half empty baskets, WD mango nosed version pinecone. Peony murmur a little, but brave breathless, some fruit syrups to support his speech. Shalimar boards, bright and serene, and still takes a lot of space, sorry, sorry we shoot please. Vanilla sugar barley, true to herself, ruffling a few people, patchouli flourishes and becomes hot. Large protein musks, so valiant, fusants, stunning and furious in the morning, feeling deflated and the turn sour for the most part. When is it that men will they stop abusing anti-humidity deodorant?
Night falls. The cube stopped. In her dark womb, the last whorls are slowly stretched, then digested brewed. The scent of cleaning agents, lemon and jasmine metal diaphanous ultimate participants sarabande, are also dissolved and swallowed. Yet in a corner a few particles resist again and again. They accumulate in silence, forgotten benefit of dirt to protect themselves and each morning when the doors open to welcome the first shipment, a gust of wind, which rub soles and release, and labdanum Shalamar a little messed up, blind, bald, but identifiable soars again. "Hi I revoilou! "The day
resumed.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Play Pokemon Soulsilver Online Free
... We played a
I started in mid-July and finished tonight. J''arrive Rating whopping 8823 figures or game elements containing figurines, making 20313 of which 5415 marius marius painted.
I started in mid-July and finished tonight. J''arrive Rating whopping 8823 figures or game elements containing figurines, making 20313 of which 5415 marius marius painted.
I did not count the pre-painted plastic sold at random (star wars minis in the majority).
We must therefore reduce this but I do not know yet how much. I think 15,000 would marius a first step and should I get to 50% painted ....
I would set out a APO but I think she will be missed in all cases;)
Cost Replace Liscense
Together
we get older together. The artist, on stage. Me in the room. Known since its inception by the way indecent squirm at the piano, I listen tonight buttocks wisely placed on a numbered seat.
I fell in love with his music and his voice years ago, when I discovered it presented itself the right to hammer the instrument elbows above the ears, and his songs expressed a jubilant revolt. What relationship with smells? I am looking for.
... and weeks later I still have not found.
Like what the nose does not offer all possible. The ears may also suffice. Simply. My flair
sought in vain a few signals. In this huge room lit by the crossfire of the fire scene, I received only the caress of air conditioning cold and dead. Nostrils clamped by the frosty air, then I tried to imagine an odor at different abstract figures, materialized by the colored lights that formed a box around the artist. Not a chance. Calm, drawers closed for the evening spirals!
I abandoned the world of sound. I absorbed the vibrations, my brain open to other sensations olfactory
letting go, I stopped feeling
So I have nothing more to say
I fell in love with his music and his voice years ago, when I discovered it presented itself the right to hammer the instrument elbows above the ears, and his songs expressed a jubilant revolt. What relationship with smells? I am looking for.
... and weeks later I still have not found.
Like what the nose does not offer all possible. The ears may also suffice. Simply. My flair
sought in vain a few signals. In this huge room lit by the crossfire of the fire scene, I received only the caress of air conditioning cold and dead. Nostrils clamped by the frosty air, then I tried to imagine an odor at different abstract figures, materialized by the colored lights that formed a box around the artist. Not a chance. Calm, drawers closed for the evening spirals!
I abandoned the world of sound. I absorbed the vibrations, my brain open to other sensations olfactory
letting go, I stopped feeling
So I have nothing more to say
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Roland Mixing Board M24e
Wargod ...
What is cool is that the game has been pleased Barbouille. And as his hostage since July is over, it will not cost him dear;)
with Barbouille was played Wargod, as I have not taken a picture I expected he speaks on his blog to provide evidence, I stung him this photo:
was then part of the eden I won (something crazy !!!).
here, here, I'd have to speak of gbs one of these 4 and also normandigurine ...
Thursday, September 2, 2010
How To Make Anarkali Churidar Suits Cutting
Paris Plage .. wait the return
August toggle . Balanced on the axis of 15, between vacation and back. To the left of the calendar, the banks of Paris open to pedestrians. Somersault right, the tarmac finds his old habits: trucks, cars, and motorbikes.
late July, I dawdle nose break, between the streets of the capital. Approaching the river, I saw against the bottom strip of sand and a line of umbrellas. I take the stairs and crept among the swirl of onlookers. My nose gets carried away ... obviously
Small uppercut at the edge of the nostrils. Smell fat frying oil saturated by successive firings and the temperature too high, I welcome. I dive into the caricature of the seaside: scrunchies, fuss, and fries in plastic containers. Stuck at the corner of the bridge, the dug blue Heaven is surrounded by a long line of hungry people who prevail, their bellies pressed against a pyramid of foods hot and fragrant with the aroma ranges from roasted vanilla, salt and vinegar. Sounded a bit, I realize that the images olfactory succeed very quickly, one chasing the other and I can not dwell on the shell. They are concentrated in a narrow band - the width of the road between the river and the quay wall - and runs into a dense aligned, because the idea is to give walkers the maximum opportunities for relaxation and recreation. I leave the fat on the smell and slides dry, mineral sand blonde spread in a sandbox for adults: chairs, small umbrellas, some plastic buckets and shovels. I lean grab a rake and red. He sniffs a funny smell of banana and cement. No trace of iodine, of course. New uppercut. This time, I breathe through your nose. The shadow of the bridge while a gently envelops whiff of ammonia tears me a grin. I follow chemical toilets backed the tunnel, the doors, disguised as bamboo, open and close without respite, regularly belching breath pungent faeces disinfected. I draw and I emerge to light when the atmosphere suddenly changes. My nose captures a stream of images of wet wood and tar intermingled, while a fine mist rinse the painful miasma. Misters are stuck on a long wooden parapet with alternating boxes containing clumps of plants, vaulted by ambient moisture. Sense of sugar, sweet and oily smell of wet clothes suddenly. Children spend between my legs and I sniff their heads warm, sweaty, dripping and cold suddenly. The smell burst like a soap bubble, honeyed and slightly sour. I take the road to dry roads and also dry, the scent of pine resin, wood fiber trenches recently replaced the sensation milk cartons and wet wood. Trestles, tables and benches for a relaxing break. I meet a mom. Her baby, nestled in the heart of his arm goes right under my nose. I absorb comforting aroma of biscuit, sweating of the infant. Then, a breath of stale vase, the passage of a boat on the Seine. Under the Pont Neuf music swells, traditional and cheerful. Three men dance, hands above their heads. A circle of strangers around the stage, smiling, body bobbing to the beat of drums. Intersection of peoples. Empathy ephemeral and fleeting. Like odor. Elusive. Tricked, identified, and then dispersed in the incessant movement of musical notes, cheers and laughter. I give the musicians and I met a clown. It grinds of those big balloons gnarled hands, and created abstract shapes in the mine a lot of radiant stunned toddlers. White makeup, red nose and smell of waffles. I step over several generations and falls on a musette. Dancers tend mines serious ear to the tempo of the accordion, then rush forward and balance shamelessly jets Cologne. Suddenly, an incredible perfume souk Marshmallow pulling my nose. I pivoted on my heels: three beautiful drag queens parading and absconding. Immediately, fern and dad cyprus beefy creep through the cracks, and the waltz, stopped just a moment, took her knitting out of date. Coumarin, oak moss and little perspiration. Something clean and sweet just upsets me. Chewing gum. A man touches me and moves his way to the lookout. He chews his solitude. Good breath fresh looking for a damsel? Our paths diverge, I will continue my personal quest. An exhalation strange caress my face. I near the mouth of the tunnel that disappears beneath the Quai du Louvre. Respiration acid and cold that keeps track tires, roasts vehicles, engines and specks of human urine. Curious mix of gentle and sweet pastry made of raw licorice, lime, wood smoke, and gingerbread.
It is time to return to the surface to get on with the city and close my nose. What time is the next meeting ... movie?
late July, I dawdle nose break, between the streets of the capital. Approaching the river, I saw against the bottom strip of sand and a line of umbrellas. I take the stairs and crept among the swirl of onlookers. My nose gets carried away ... obviously
Small uppercut at the edge of the nostrils. Smell fat frying oil saturated by successive firings and the temperature too high, I welcome. I dive into the caricature of the seaside: scrunchies, fuss, and fries in plastic containers. Stuck at the corner of the bridge, the dug blue Heaven is surrounded by a long line of hungry people who prevail, their bellies pressed against a pyramid of foods hot and fragrant with the aroma ranges from roasted vanilla, salt and vinegar. Sounded a bit, I realize that the images olfactory succeed very quickly, one chasing the other and I can not dwell on the shell. They are concentrated in a narrow band - the width of the road between the river and the quay wall - and runs into a dense aligned, because the idea is to give walkers the maximum opportunities for relaxation and recreation. I leave the fat on the smell and slides dry, mineral sand blonde spread in a sandbox for adults: chairs, small umbrellas, some plastic buckets and shovels. I lean grab a rake and red. He sniffs a funny smell of banana and cement. No trace of iodine, of course. New uppercut. This time, I breathe through your nose. The shadow of the bridge while a gently envelops whiff of ammonia tears me a grin. I follow chemical toilets backed the tunnel, the doors, disguised as bamboo, open and close without respite, regularly belching breath pungent faeces disinfected. I draw and I emerge to light when the atmosphere suddenly changes. My nose captures a stream of images of wet wood and tar intermingled, while a fine mist rinse the painful miasma. Misters are stuck on a long wooden parapet with alternating boxes containing clumps of plants, vaulted by ambient moisture. Sense of sugar, sweet and oily smell of wet clothes suddenly. Children spend between my legs and I sniff their heads warm, sweaty, dripping and cold suddenly. The smell burst like a soap bubble, honeyed and slightly sour. I take the road to dry roads and also dry, the scent of pine resin, wood fiber trenches recently replaced the sensation milk cartons and wet wood. Trestles, tables and benches for a relaxing break. I meet a mom. Her baby, nestled in the heart of his arm goes right under my nose. I absorb comforting aroma of biscuit, sweating of the infant. Then, a breath of stale vase, the passage of a boat on the Seine. Under the Pont Neuf music swells, traditional and cheerful. Three men dance, hands above their heads. A circle of strangers around the stage, smiling, body bobbing to the beat of drums. Intersection of peoples. Empathy ephemeral and fleeting. Like odor. Elusive. Tricked, identified, and then dispersed in the incessant movement of musical notes, cheers and laughter. I give the musicians and I met a clown. It grinds of those big balloons gnarled hands, and created abstract shapes in the mine a lot of radiant stunned toddlers. White makeup, red nose and smell of waffles. I step over several generations and falls on a musette. Dancers tend mines serious ear to the tempo of the accordion, then rush forward and balance shamelessly jets Cologne. Suddenly, an incredible perfume souk Marshmallow pulling my nose. I pivoted on my heels: three beautiful drag queens parading and absconding. Immediately, fern and dad cyprus beefy creep through the cracks, and the waltz, stopped just a moment, took her knitting out of date. Coumarin, oak moss and little perspiration. Something clean and sweet just upsets me. Chewing gum. A man touches me and moves his way to the lookout. He chews his solitude. Good breath fresh looking for a damsel? Our paths diverge, I will continue my personal quest. An exhalation strange caress my face. I near the mouth of the tunnel that disappears beneath the Quai du Louvre. Respiration acid and cold that keeps track tires, roasts vehicles, engines and specks of human urine. Curious mix of gentle and sweet pastry made of raw licorice, lime, wood smoke, and gingerbread.
It is time to return to the surface to get on with the city and close my nose. What time is the next meeting ... movie?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Japanese Teachers Kissing Students
Priscilla and Zelve
My new gang for Golgo Banana Showdown:
Priscilla and Zelve
They are painted, as it should, the hard the week before the event and I think I made quite the kitsch side I wanted. I still have to give them characteristics.
The Zelve are in the range of USX AMFN (blue, red and gold), of Hasslefree (white) and Priscilla is the limited edition figurine of chick challenge 4 (hosted by Jason Moses in 2003 and I can not find the link).
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