It ain' me, babe

Go away from my window

Leave at your own chosen speed
I'm not the one you want, babe
I'm not the one you need
You say you're lookin' for someone
Who's never weak but always strong
To protect you and defend you
Whether you are right or wrong
Someone to open each and every door

But it ain't me, babe
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe

Go lightly from the ledge, babe
Go lightly on the ground
I'm not the one you want, babe
I'll only let you down
You say you're lookin' for someone
Who'll promise never to part
Someone to close his eyes to you
Someone to close his heart
Someone to die for you and more

But it ain't me, babe
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe

You say you're lookin' for someone
To pick you up each time you fall
To gather flowers constantly
And to come each time you call
And will love you for your life
And nothin' more

But it ain't me, babe
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe

Prayer

Insomnia | Dormer confronts Finch

Why didn't you come forward with this information when she died?

She swore me to secrecy, she didn't want anybody to know about that --

Even when she was dead she didn't want anybody to know? Beaten to death.

I was honoring her wishes --

Her body dumped on a pile of garbage.

I was her friend!

You weren't her friend.

All right, acquaintance, all right? We were close, and I was just –

You were close?

Mm-hmm.

She was... attractive. Did you have sex with her?

She was seventeen!

Seventeen? She was attractive.

I suppose.

Suppose? She was.

Right.

Yeah, so did you have sex with her?

No, I was her mentor.

You bought her things.

Yeah.

Gifts.

Yes.

What kind of gifts?

Books mostly, that's what she loved.

Books?

Mm-hmm.

What about this? [shows him a necklace] You gave her this?

Yes.

Why?

“Why”?

You wanted to see how she looked with it on?

No.

No? Why would you give her jewelry?

Just a present.

Present.

Yeah.

You bought a lot of presents. You bought her a dress.

Yes, what's wrong with that?

No, nothing wrong. I'm just trying to figure out what kind of mentor you were.

I gave her things she couldn't have.

Pff, you just wanted to fuck her, didn't you? You sick son of a bitch!

Grand-prix de France 2007

L'affiche officielle du grand-prix de France 2007

La Honda de Jenson Button (une daube, mais jolie dans sa livrée "save the earth")

Devant le stand Ferrari

Show me your (qi-)balls

Mes boules, for real. By John Smith

En règle générale, j'évite de parler de mes boules en public, a fortiori de les montrer. Question de pudeur.

Le principe des boules est relativement simple : vous prenez votre paire à la main et massez doucement jusqu’à libération de l'énergie. Il faut compter une bonne vingtaine de minutes pour chaque séance, qui provoque parait-il un grand bien-être. Non pratiquant, je préfère ne pas me prononcer.

Je reste néanmoins ouvert à tout retour d'expérience.

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Note au lecteur : cet article s’est avéré particulièrement pénible à rédiger. À plusieurs passages, j'ai senti mes vieux démons grivois manquer s'emparer de ma plume. Après relecture, je ne crois pas avoir commis d'impair(e) majeur. Je suis resté dans le sobre, le raffiné, l'élégant, là où j'aurais pu glisser facilement dans la quéquette poilue. C'est une victoire indéniable. Et à JohnSmithGlobalServices, nous en sommes fiers.