Does Copper Kill Dandruff

My home, my home for you to be colorful ... Elegantly


in hit and run that characterized my holiday spirit this year, I have come across in a village that has sorely tested my faith in the aesthetic sensibilities of the natives.
Celera until his death the name, suffice it to say that this is a small village about 3 thousand souls nestled in the Apennines, place the domain of a beautiful valley. Lovely place, really. Too bad that a good portion of the local population, when choosing the color with which to decorate their home, was seized with a fit of madness.
Probably glossy, but still crazy. Something halfway between a hyperactive child who has been given a whole box di Faber Castell e un gruppo di fauvisti in preda a qualche acido.
Si ha sempre l'idea, figurandosi queste amene località, di andare incontro a luoghi in cui il tempo si sia, non dico fermato, ma almeno preso una pausa. Illusione! Non solo il logorio della vita moderna è arrivato anche qui, ma sembra proprio averli colti in pieno (...viso e contromano!).
In realtà qualche piccolo dubbio sull'esattezza della nostra scelta ha iniziato a farsi largo già alle primi pendici, nel momento in cui ci siamo trovati davanti le prime casupole costituenti il borgo.
Una su tutte ha scatenato in noi sinistri presagi. Semplice villetta, giardino curato e gentile, deliziose finestre ornate da fiori ma... rossa. Rossa! Non un discreto grenade, an anonymous clay or a soft coral, no red!
Now, to paraphrase an old saying I could argue that "the house is mine and me who I am!" Very good. But it would be nice also to think about those who, with eyes still calm of pristine green around, around the corner finds himself catapulted into the most hidden dreams of his Excellency the Count Vlad! In short, every good color therapy may certify that I am not making jokes!
dissolved all with a laugh and a disquisition on the obvious nostalgia for the policies of occupying the dwelling, a little less happily we continued our journey.
Things began to get complicated when you're standing out in front of Our tender and still incredulous eyes a second house. A bit bigger than before, but with a color equally embarrassing. Blue. Not a soft blue, a mild powder or a cane! No, bright blue. Stuff to embarrass the jumpsuit of Supertelegattone (miaooo!).
Noting that the tenants seemed temporarily absent, probably involved in the search for puffbacche, we continued, now ready for the worst. Obviously, it was not long in arriving.
Now, I do not want tirarvela for long. Suffice to say that we met in the order:

• a two-storey building, and pretty raspberry.
• a house with a nice porch acid yellow.
• a small cottage and orange
• dated and decidedly palace indigo (electric)
• house floral and green apple, sour.

At the end of the excursion, having nutritious lunch and drink properly remarks, however, was unanimous. *****: You have any avant-garde of our estimate. Respect!

Bathroom Grout Cleaner

golf ... Maybe I come from Mars


Golf, sport contested by sources (if they contend for the partenio the Scots and the Dutch etymology uncertain ...), but undeniable elegance, is not it?
From bitter enemy of all activities involving the movement of my overleaf for more than 15 minutes, I have always found the idea of \u200b\u200bbeing delicious scarrozzata those adorable white cars, so at odds with the boundless greenery all around.
The idea of \u200b\u200ba sport that does not involve excessive drop of my sweat, the label states voted for the full and strict respect for the opponent (it seems we should be careful to not cast shadows and not covered by the opponent's field of view), the presence of a cute little man employed to carry the bag not to tire my limbs have contributed to the kind of golf (in my lazy little head, of course) the perfect sport.
We want to leave out the dress code? Discrete pole, fantasies polite, soft colors, adorable hats ... In short, in a nutshell: Elegance. But something
intervened to spoil the idyllic picture firmly anchored in my fantasies. Not being selfish by nature, I thought I would share with the rest of the world the reasons for my disappointment (and I have to remain just me bad?).
Ladies and gentlemen, here's how the bad taste to shreds the last bastion of sophistication ...




not enough? Okay ...



And now, I believe? Très Chic, not it?