Voici à quoi ressemblerait un diplôme de BAC si j'arrive à l'avoir en juin, chose dont je doute toujours...
Mon monde rien qu'a moi
Description :
Une citation philosophique dit: "On peut savoir mais pas comprendre"... Ceux qui me connaissent peuvent savoir qui je suis mais ne me comprennent pas forcément... Par contre, la réciproque est vraie. Ceux qui me comprennent, me connaissent par coeur...
Je serai toujours présent pour mes amis, même dans les pires moments...
Concernant mon blog, amusez-vous bien en visitant et mettez des comm's, même si ils ne sont pas forcément en rapport avec l'article, car "qui ne tente rien, n'a rien" (c'est mon mot d'ordre)...
Ciao.
Putain de BAC
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# Posté le dimanche 20 avril 2008 14:26
Modifié le dimanche 20 avril 2008 14:37
Re
¡Hola todos!
¿Como estais?
Je suis désolé mais, je n'ai pas eu beaucoup de temps pour m'occuper de mon blog et je n'en aurai certainement plus avant d'avoir passé ce foutu BAC.
Eh oui, ce BAC me traumatise déjà depuis le début de l'année et maintenant il se ramène à grands pas.
J-52 !!! Au secours !!!!!!!!
Pendant tout le temps qui est passé,
j'ai eu pas mal de choses à régler, et ce n'est toujours pas fini.
Beaucoup de problèmes, mais ce n'est pas l'endroit pour en parler.
Je voudrais remercier tous mes amis,
sans qui je ne serai pas qui je suis aujourd'hui.
Une----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----petite----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------pensée-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------spéciale---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------pour-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------ma-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------s½urette----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------qui--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------est-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------toujours-------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------présente---------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------et-------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------------ne-----------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------me--------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------------laisse-------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------jamais-----------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------tomber. --------------------------
Même si j'ai atteint le point de non retour, elle est toujours la et arrive à me remettre sur le droit chemin.
Merci S½urette !!!!!
Bien sur, sans amour, on n'est nulle part.
Pour ce j'aimerais remercier une personne très
cher a mon c½ur qui se reconnaîtra certainement.
Bon, je vous laisse.
A ciao, bon dimanche.
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[ 2 commentaires ]
# Posté le dimanche 20 avril 2008 14:11
Poeme de Noel
Pour les pilotes d'entre nous (comprenant l'anglais) voici un petit poeme bien sympa.
Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.
The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.
When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.
He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.
He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!
With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?
While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."
He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."
He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.
His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.
He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.
And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"
And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"
He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."
Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.
The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.
When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.
He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.
He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!
With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?
While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."
He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."
He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.
His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.
He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.
And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"
And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"
He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."
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# Posté le dimanche 23 décembre 2007 00:45
Scuzie...
Alors, je voudrais m'excuser auprès de ceux qui viennent
voir mon blog de temps en temps de ne pas mettre d'articles...
Mais quand on est en TS on se perd dans tout le boulot que les
profs ne se gènent pas de nous donner...
voir mon blog de temps en temps de ne pas mettre d'articles...
Mais quand on est en TS on se perd dans tout le boulot que les
profs ne se gènent pas de nous donner...
Je promets que pendant les vacances je vous fairai
un petit update de ma saison de kart qui se déroule super bien
pour le moment...
J'expliquerai tout en détail (même si ca peut etre barbant...)
un petit update de ma saison de kart qui se déroule super bien
pour le moment...
J'expliquerai tout en détail (même si ca peut etre barbant...)
Allez, a bients et merci pour vos visites...
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# Posté le mardi 04 décembre 2007 07:53
Modifié le mardi 04 décembre 2007 08:06
Michel Boujenah
Voici une vidéo hilarante d'un émission de cuisine avec Michel Boujenah.
Regardez, marrez vous et mettez des comms.
A+
Regardez, marrez vous et mettez des comms.
A+
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# Posté le samedi 28 avril 2007 12:50
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