This is how I feel after trying the iPhone on display at the Orange Concept Store earlier today. So, there he was this guy who must’ve tried the device before me and was still logged on his FB account with the device I was testing. I have first updated his status for all his friends to see: “X is still logged on a device in an Orange shop and a complete stranger is messing with his account”. And then I logged him off. And I am now smiling.
Some luxury products I just deserve, never buy, and still they will find their way to me.
I look 26.
I am a don de gente - “meaning you make the people around you happy”.
I am a special agent. Of course, this an open invite to contradict me.
LATER EDIT: one day and so far no contradiction. My friends are clearly somewhere else in the blogosphere 
When something doesn’t fit at all, it is referred to as from another movie.
In this case it’s from another movie, from another set, from another world. The picture reminds me of the one I took in Strassbourg. Nevermind, it was not what I was trying to say.
She wanted to know, but
this meme got caught under a pile of staff I have been postponing due to my inability to deal with everything that interests me, her blog being on that list of mine. Then I accidentally found
this, which could be an answer, even if it was written before the question was even asked. I still believe Klara deserves a better specially-for-her written post, so here’s my try. By the way, I’m flattered the interest is mutual, so follow Klara, she has some amazing notes, in my opinion. You can find her in my “spread the word” section.
Before I forget, this is a Swedish Buffet meme, to quote another of my favourites. Please leave me a note if you have helped yourselves.
I am a narcissist , ultimately. Which cannot fully account for my relation with my body. Being the wannabe super star that I am, I feel that body comes second to spirit, but hey, it really comes. I could never have an ugly boyfriend, pretty much like I could never have a stupid one. There, I have said it, I am vain, I know.
Back to the body, I am lucky enough, I have my moments. It helps to have a sparkle in the eyes, makes you taller. Same with being relaxed. My body is more beautiful since I have stopped worrying. Yeah, I cannot do anything about that belly profiling, threatening my future. It’s again a spirit state: I am too lazy comfortable with myself to deal with it. For the moment. I am even happy with my balding head, learning to accept it and enjoy it. Yes, my facial expressions are changing as we speak, I am able to express the complete range due to my now widening forehead. I don’t intend to worry about the wrinkles either, they are already incorporated in my brand. Once you’ve seen me smile or laugh you’ve seen me. Most probably you will remember me.
My relation with my body is not perfect, but it works for me. Pretty much like being carded at 29 works, and that has already happened to me. I am glad that people I have seen last over ten years ago can pretty much say “You haven’t changed at all”.
Finally, the one things I don’t like about my body is when it hurts. One of the jokes I like says that if you are over (insert critical age here) and you wake up one morning and your body doesn’t hurt anywhere, then you must be dead.
Chatty, smart, gregarious, freshly settled in the big city, opinionated, could easily get on the interlocutor’s toes. Me, seven years ago. Oddly he has the age I had when I arrived. Also thinking that everything has to do with him, like I used to. Hence my tired smile, he though was an enigmatic but superior manifestation. Which was not the case. I was just hot from the scorcher and tired and looking back at how I used to be.
When you’re born you’re zero years old. Then you turn one year old. Therefore the birthday celebrates the year that has passed, not the one that’s coming. Maybe this is, sometime, the annoying thing with birthdays. They measure what’s gone. In other words I have been 34 the entire year behind me. I didn’t have a problem with 33, 30 was fine. At 25 I took pride in being a quarter of a century into the world. So what do I make of 34? Maybe like they do in buildings and planes, when they skip 13. 34 can be my 13. By the way, I don’t have a problem with 13. So, it’s settled then. I am going on 35.
I am writing about this because I had the worse sleep last night, hot flashes and all. For the first time I have heard my neighbour’s bed screeching. How awkward is that?! And pretty much all the noises going around in my block of flats. Veve’s called just as I managed to fall asleep, and the ring scared the living light out of me. She was having a beer in my honour. Thank you Plus the spoilers. It looks like a lot of people were afraid to miss my birthday and I kept receiving happy birthday wishes in advance. Oh well, I will try to live deal with it.
As for my new life, I have set my alarm for seven and woke up at six. A.M. Without it. Is that a sign or what?
In other news, the best present has just woke up and kissed me. I am happy.
The regular: Oh, my dear, what a gorgeous scarf! Splendid!
The master of BS: Correction! You wanted to say “How well that gorgeous scarf goes with you, my dear!”
I am re-evaluating PR techniques these days.
The new me is pretty similar to the old me: new boyfriend, new car, new project, limited income, unlimited spending powers. A sort of private super antihero.
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