Repeat after me: slam the door please. Once more: slam the door please. That was good but you can do better: slam the door please. Ok, fine, this one was good, please slam the door, please.

They need the activity to move their muscles and lose the power to think. If we want to preserve our social package and priviledges, we need farms for the men, ok, we're men too, but not the same.

You can love mussels, you can praise foie gras, you can delectate yourself with turkey breasts, but there is nothing better than an oyster for new year's eve. On second thought, maybe the turkey breast.

Too much at once and leftovers for weeks to come. This is a fact that I wish I could forget. We'll have to eat through it.

We must preserve the wonderful fauna of the tropical islands, we must take care of the snails of the Carribean before they are all gone, to let some nature to see for the future generations.

To let things go out of control, to make things happen in an untimely fashion, to hold on things that don't matter anymore, that's having crocodile instincts and nothing else.

Kelly and John liked to collect old socks. Some of them where still inhabited by our little friends from the savannah, the butter bear butterflies. They are carnivorous, but don't eat men, so there are only a small risk if you fall asleep.

The lemony fruity taste was a perfect blend with the crunchyness and the juicy pulp of the fruit, this fulgurant savor could only be devoured by someone like her.

The running phelmonous chicks wanted to run and hop into the wall, a wall made of plain fruit pasta with a glimpse of citrus syrup. What a dream, but only it, as the world isn't so sweet as we all know.

Make her happy and subscribe to hurdles and biben magazine, the magazine for the modern homely man. You deserve it and your home too.