Today was a quiet day until one the later. At that time I went to the National Bank of civic tour to send a money order for my daughter Fernanda. I input all the heat down this spring that brought me. Not if you've heard this advice says that you should never open the fridge with hot body, probably yes, but the fact that the clever engineers at National Bank does not, as it passes through the front door I dropped a blast glacier wind killer from these sophisticated air conditioning that left me broken body with a cough that promises to asthma and back colder than blood murderer.
I had not fully recovered from Patagonian torture that I received when I saw that there was a huge queue to access the windows. And once again convinced me of the asshole I am. Only I happen to come to this hour, when all people think that there are fewer people and that comes at this time. The queue was so long that for a moment I felt a Cuban Havana, waiting for the weekly ration of food.
Of the more than ten points of the modern agency that has worked only four, graciously served by gracious ladies who whispered to them, they disappeared in the corridors, looked at the forks of the hair, watched her French manicure, humming romantic ballads and then catered to the public.
Tome
time since I put in the queue until I attended in my modern Casio cachina purchased twenty mangos, and lo and behold, had lost an hour and a half of my life looking at dandruff on the back of my predecessor, almost like a paparazzi spying curves satanic ricotona more than one client, listening to the conversation of a lady on a cellphone, which is forbidden, giving instructions on preparing marinated chicken, trying to decipher the movement of the camera security, making eyes at a girl who looked like a hardened reggetonera, counting the bills that would give him in window number three to one with a reputation for fiscal known coimero, trying to fit my monthly bills without success, pulling the beard of despair and nibbling from a deadly brawl over and have to spend as much time in a bank that does not work even half of capacity. All this while in a modern LCD TVs, the twenty Zambo Cavero once sang the waltz, "National Bank, Bank of Peruvians." I swear if ever I see Zambo, despite the great affection that I have, I take a trip by roe sad liar.
I just went to send a money order, and so I lost my lunch, I burst with anger and ended up with a barking cough that likely need drugs. That asshole.
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