Catch my drift?

Catch my drift? Seems that “somebody” a make confusion with the meaning of groom. In the ThinkExist.com site, “we” find four clear definitions: 2. A man recently married, or about to be married; a bridegroom. 1. (n.) A boy or young man; a waiter; a servant; especially, a man or boy who has charge of horses, or the stable. 3. (n.) One of several officers of the English royal household, chiefly in the lord chamberlain's department; as, the groom of the chamber; the groom of the stole. 4. (v. i.) To tend or care for, or to curry or clean, as a, horse. The fifth point I’ll put the man who not carry the ongoing piggy faces, - but the who drive at least one ass-hole. (Nothing to do with the two classes which I dislike. The military and politicians.)Doing this actually for people (see my photos), “using” them to simply improve my (how ignorant of me) winning tactics. Also, to improve my general “working” relationships. Because my friendship, I think, can get back to its best after the present and too turbulent (greeks talking…) times. Times, where it’s just good to strengthen-up the peripherical relationship and ensure myself (and who is interested) with proofs that my network - is solid. Where I see too frequently who’s and how liked to sell me short. “Off course”, out of theme the stink of incese in the english speaking World of (see photo) www.Workinglinks.co.uk today. For close accompanied by the young whites harassing my thoughts with a fixed ideas: ‘You speaking with MY home’, ‘Just shut-up and drive’, putting the ebalo of Napoleon Dinamite, which actually all bottom half of his face, - Willy Lancaster. I was of short fuse… This pre-elections – are heavier burden for me (i.e. “Das portas down”) than normally. The “normally”, without to selling mum (i.e. brown’s blunder of my feet!), - is very heavy fuck-over for me. Like today nearby bakery, the two 10-12 years old brits (i.e. nation of the … my 50%) – zipping theirs trousers in “North” direction. I.e. Cuba. Where lying my idea to write this down, with certain crazy plan (however the truly it will be) the design of “se o EU não me paga, - do cabo de voces…” Exactly in conformity with the spirit of Napoleon Dinamite and the rest of the FIFA’s barroso, or the barroso’s FIFA. – I don’t care. The right is in any way mean right. However, the another note, which should be disconnected from WHY I’m putting the photo do alfere, from the fact that Portugal even resolve to call german sucker Suares, and the my dream. Which is guilty! And which I immediately translate like a good omen. In which the possible treat to my health comes from IMF… Maybe the Mister Kahn will be willing to catch me at the some corner… Who knows? So,… I’m (i.e. passo horas no café, de ao saber p’ra anode ir…) at the front of showcase in the Park Line. And I see how one couple (Andrew, you remember the Cobra Oil from Nassau?) heap up (to suck my d***, - off course) at my back. The shop assistant (knowing my face fairly well, because it’s more simplier than to selling the “Sun seekers”), simulate fall. To falling butt first at this showcase window. And scarring this couple to the DEAD… Well. FIFA (see the article) understood this, and, I’m sure about, having a good laugh… You see how nobody ever say “I have caused a problem’ – or, ‘I have started a fight’? We all think that the others are to blame. Catch my drift?

Hayden Smith - 29th April, 2010. Man ploughs through multi-storey car park wall. Squeezing your car into a parking space in the multi-storey is always a tricky affair, but it's fair to say Ralph Hudson made a right pig's ear of this effort. The 67-year-old somehow got his foot stuck between the brake and accelerator and sped backwards, ploughing through the car park wall. His Mercedes shuddered to a halt with its boot and back wheels hanging precariously 21m (70ft) above the ground, sending bricks crashing down, damaging several cars but narrowly missing passers-by. Fortunately, staff were able to drive the car back inside and Mr Hudson was not injured. The accident happened in the garage of the Bank of America building in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Mr Hudson got his second lucky escape of the day when police declined to issue him a ticket.