Me and Hugo
My love for leather jackets is going out of hand. Last I fall for an elusive, and might I add pricy, Hugo Boss. Fortunately they only held huge size. I had to part with my love, but not with EUR 700. I am doomed.
Entries Tagged as 'crushes and natural disasters'
My own proustian reflex
After listening for the fifth time, I felt like crying. Otherwise it’s quite a happy track I discovered when our relation was all downwards already and I was going out drinking on my own and flirting with straight strangers who had no romantic interest in me whatsoever. Some things are not appreciated unless they’re gone. I am talking about what we had together.
Humorous post, I think
Fun is had and made by others. I just notice.
On this propeller aircraft I needed to use my noise absorbent headphones:
After seeing this, I know I have to see Jordan. This redefines advertorials.
Finally, this is the first thing I saw entering a tapas bar in Barcelona.
Philosophical side-effects of making pretty
When I did what I did I had feared the process and ignored the consequences I am now reminded are without fail more ferocius. When one is already way in one’s thirties, one should trust common sense more and vanity less.
You are probably wondering what the heck is he talking again. Oh, well, I had my back waxed. Before too soon I was happy on my way, I had not reached my pain threshold and had my back as smooth as linoleum, ready for the cuddling weekend with my baby. But, damn those buttbabies making, since I am not living in a nudist colony I had to wear clothes. Despite calming balm and cotton t-shirts without inside labels… remember that Sex and City episode? it’s me! My back looks like a stellar map, only red. I have until Friday to make it go away. Oh, where is the Fairy Godmother when you need her him?
As for you kids, there is a life lesson in every waxing you take. You don’t believe me? then go read paragraph one again. Now, go play and be merry.
Spilt milk never comes back
Children, let’s share this weekend’s learnt lessons.
When he asks for the bill without asking you if you want anything more, the meeting is over. You have been dismissed. When you have done that several times already yourself, it’s about time it should happen to you too. So be nice, life has a way of slapping you in the face when you least expect it.
Never change reservations because someone asks you to. Or whatever your plans for that matter. Do everything by your own measure. Trust your intuition, even if, like me, you are convinced you don’t have one. When you are later complaining about the above, you will have to admit to your secret wishful thinking. Wishful thinking is bad.
There are several Belgian beers over 8.5. Every time I had beer it was my goal to try a new kind. I was in Belgium, it was totally possible. After one day and night of almost continuous drinking, yeap, my friends were amazed with my drinking skills! the hangover was fierce.
I can hardly conceive a most dreadful situation than hangover on a plane. Oh, there was the waking up at seven after a one hour sleep, and seeing one’s ex boyfriend while not emotionally ready for it. But it was still me in all those situations, too. So let’s stick with the hangover situation, at least I knew my way out of this one. And that would be: Ursus especially bottled for Tarom. Tasted like orange fresh juice, following as I said the Belgium varieties, but it did the trick. The current update is: after a fourteen hour sleep I look almost human.
WARNING, sex life confessions ahead. As it turns out, no matter how vengeful, hot, horny, or all of the above, I am not the darkroom type. Yves is one of Brussels’ handsome hungs partying in Antwerp. Not the only one with a crush on me, yeap I am still valid on the market, but the only cause for my lips still hurting. In that pleasant reassuring way. We didn’t use a condom, but that is also OK because we have not screwed either. Although we both wanted. Reminds me of that student joke.
And now back to life. There is snow in Bucharest.
Fair warning
If you don’t pull your shit together soon, I will move on. I need (your) attention and I am not afraid to use it.
I hate that you might be doing good, and that you do it without me.
Learning that an eighteen year old has crush on me has made me smile. Learning it from her mother has made me smile politely.
I don’t write for comments or critics, unless they are good (to me).
I got this as a present. I think I totally deserve it. Besides, it was about the only good thing to top the nasty past three days.
Giving in to temptations
H&M, Bershka, Ovlas, Topman, Jack and Jones, Changing Room, Zara, Pygmees, G-Star. Never has the Romanian proverb been more accurate about vinegar and drops.
Relevant coffee
I have just had coffee. Actually, I have had a cappuccino. It made me realize I have always been a sexual person. I have always had sex, even if I was not making love. I have always had sex, even when I was in love. With different persons. And sex is for me probably one addiction I am not willing to quit. I have had a coffee with someone. A coffee, not sex. The sparkle in his eyes, “from the beer”, he said, my realization, the short way back, the cold outside, the sour throat, the sequence of tenses, this post. Universe’s conspiracy. It is all Somebody’s smile at me. I can only catch a glimpse at Somebody’s corner of the mouth.
"You’ve created a character who’s deserted you"
My mouth is one thousand little ulcerations. Playing tag. Had to apologize for that. Scream at the available one. Call to make it right. Cannot make it right. Seat on the brink of depression. Contemplate yearly health evaluation. Road to the airport. Visit to the ER. Muse concert and Feeling Good from Origin of Symmetry. Set the night on fire. Literally, like electric, fire brigade and all. Read in reverse.
Shopping strikes back
Shopping strikes back like a comma between the subject and the predicate. You can find this, yet another sample of monstrous copyrighting, on the Famous Brands Gallery (”Marca te remarca!”) leaflet.
Hours spent next to the perfume shelves also resulted into the following instant vapor classic of frustration: “I work like a slave, and don’t even have a perfume at home”. And since that was a private conversation and I am in the MM mode (mysterious AND merciful) I won’t reveal the identity of the script writer.
But I am having fun. And a new belt. I know, who cares.
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