How To Open A Undf File

Information Graphics: Facebook is a woman! :) And other interesting facts about the gender distribution in the Web 2.0

via blog.kissmetrics.com

big thanks to KISSmetrics for this great info graphic on demography and gender distribution in the Web 2.0. Although I myself have asked what KISS has to do with it? :)

Posted by email from ennome's social media content aggregation blog

Dogs Hemorrhoids Preperation H

Cup Stars workout in the Allgäu: Didier Cuche on Oberjoch


Anyone who believes the world's best skiers in the world are currently alone in Garmisch Partenkirchen to take in the World Cup, are completely wrong: The top athletes go in Bad Hindelang-Oberjoch. On Tuesday, the mixed-ski champion and Olympic silver medalist in 1998, Didier Cuche (Switzerland), Unters with the Swiss national team people. The three-time winner of the downhill World Cup and freshly baked silver medalist at the World Cup downhill in Garmisch on Saturday, completed with his team a three-hour training session Alpine Training Centre in Allgäu (ATA) and then flew by helicopter back to Garmisch.

"I was the first time here at the upper yoke and am very satisfied. The road is hard, but very good, "the 36-year-old Swiss said after his workout in the giant slalom at the Iselerbahn. Cuche and because the World Cup giant slalom on Friday once again seeking a place on the podium, he flew again on Wednesday after a Oberjoch for training. Aksel Lund Svindal Iseler he met on the train in the highest mountain village of Germany in a direct rival to the World Cup giant slalom title, because the four-time world champion and Olympic champion from Norway made its hardness test also in ATA.

Note to TV stations: There is an interview with Didier Cuche in German and footage from the training available. If interested, please contact Ingo Jensen +49 / 1716981177th Source and © copyright:

Jensen media GmbH

Hemmerlestraße 4 87700 Memmingen Phone 08331/99188-0
Fax 08331/99188-10
info@jensen-media.de www.jensen-media . de
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To Build A Home - The Cinematic Orchestra Sheet

Be my Valentine (K) A love story

Sighing, she sits at her desk. How do I find just the right words, she's doing time and again through his head. "Dear P. ..", but the next moment the paper is already screwed up in the corner. "I know this is between us something ..."- the small Papierknäul a friend receives. But then it would be difficult, they would have never thought of.

discouraged Something sets them down the pen and starts on the office chair to turn in circles. First, the carousel starts to move slowly. Window, bed, dining table, door, desk. The first round is done. The passenger is foolhardy and spins faster. So fast that the colors gradually blend with each other, as well as the thoughts turn to speak a fair idea. Window, bed, dining table. After several rounds of the carousel stops suddenly. She opens her eyes and looks at the small part that is hanging there between room dividers and wall shelf. The paper says behind stars certificate. She gets up and goes to this document, the text reads.

"If we are worlds apart, these stars are our bridge, so we get lost and never lose!"

She smiles. It is a gift from him. She remembers as if it were only yesterday. As she opens the folder and the document it is disclosed. As she sits down to read the text. As she weeps tears. Tears of joy. Tears of emotion. Tears of the boundless love she feels in that moment.

brings The quiet rustle of rabbits it back from the idea and it sweeps over the wet smiling cheek.

Again, she sits down on the office chair and starts the idea of a new carousel. More speed, more daring it turns. Door, desk, window, bed, dining table. Door, Desk. And again, the carousel stops. Her look is at the two pictures hanging adorning the wall. A deep red, the other midnight blue. Each provided with a hand print. The one slightly larger footprint than the other. She gets up from his chair and approaches the wall. Sets the right hand on the blue print of the image. His hand print. Again, reeled off in her mind's eye a small film. As they both sit on the floor and dumb paint. How shallow that the other is not a good enough paints How to leave his hand print. How to sign the pictures.

you seen her hand on his imprint. Defines the same then the place of the heart. Yes, there has his place. Deep in her heart.

She sits on the chair. Pulls him to the desk and takes the pen in his hand. Now she knows what she wants to write. And especially how they will do it. For a brief moment hovering the pen over the paper before she touches him gently, and her heart as if by letter leaves us out rates.

considered critical to their work. The work of her heart. So it will be right, she thinks. For the deep meaning of words can only understand it. With great care she folded the letter and puts it in the provided envelope. Plain white it is. The only one with lots of love subscribed heart adorns the spot where the stamp is usually affixed. One last time they looked at the paper before it closes the envelope and glued. She then puts it on the dining table so she can throw him tomorrow when walking into town with him. What will he think when he reads it. How will he react to it. Whether he will say yes. These ideas revolve over and over again in her head. Then she lies down in her bed and falls asleep with a slight smile.

quietly opened the squeaky mailbox. Just now he can still catch the letter, which has been pressed by the newspaper against the door. No sender, no postage stamp. Only a lovingly painted heart instead of a postage stamp. Lost in thought, he reaches for the newspaper includes the mailbox again and rises step by step up the stairs to his apartment. Whoever he may well write Valentin post, it goes through his mind. With a click he opened his apartment door and enter. Still his eyes are focused on the envelope. Somewhat carelessly, he puts the paper on the desk and sits down with the letter on the sofa. He opens it. And even before he read the second sentence, he knows it. He does know who this letter. Again and again he read the last line. Deeply penetrates the air his lungs, which he fills with his breath. A last breath before picking up his phone. And chooses her number. "Hello?", Her voice sounds from the handset. He is silent for a moment before his lips form the words. "I love you too and would be ready by the end of my your Valentine." Returns silence. And it says a tender smile to hear their side, may be.

Married Or Married Hold At A Single Rate?

All this, everything was what I and can not be.

The last days I stumbled on this text. It is quiet. Loud. Speaks volumes. From the heart.

And that's why he has won a place in my blog. Soon's also Valentine's Day.

"Timothy. I now taken your place. I've just put on your seat. And you have seen me. As if this is the first time I wanted to take up. Up under my duvet. But you do have to just look, just considered.

Timothy. I would now like to see covered, and you will hurt you. You can scratch me and bite me. You can please me screaming in his ear or pinch me in the stomach. All right you should paint my room walls, you can call in the middle of the night my neighbors. You shall hurt me, let me wait and ignore me. We should hate us and kiss and anschrein and abandoned. Thou shalt to pop the door and the phone The engines. Leave me thou shalt not, let not hear from you. Pull up in front of me, bounce around the room and wait for my reaction. Leave me, I should let you go. Kiss me I should pull you to me. Bring me to tears, really. Come on, Timothy. As hard as this may be not. Do it like the other girls who call here constantly and make the listeners wet. Let me cry like her. I also want it in my heart makes puff peng shit. Let me be insulted and throw with plates. I want to wake my neighbors and tell them about this asshole named Timothy. And I want them to include me in the arm, or I hit the door to her face. I will hit you and you touch the same time gentle. And if you look at me, you know, as it shoots into my head. All this, everything was what I and can not be. Then I leave my head and I wonder if that is to be so. You go, get out and let me know not where you will be. And yet I know you belong here.

Because you are only here at home. I found your spaceship Timothy.

hate me scratch me. Are you listening to scratch me so tight it's all here and hold me tight. Timothy forget me easily and do not remember up to the one girl that you would have procured a second heart. Do not think about Timothy. The missing too much.

but I hate you too. Oh Timothy. I do not know you anymore. I hate you.

I love you. "