some people, we really love...

... but others are down right obnoxious
Here's a thought: how would life be without stupid people?
At first, it made me laugh, then upset, angry but now I'm becoming increadingly worried about the outrageously high number of stupid people out there.
For example, today. I was driving home with my husband. At one point this guy with a Peugeot overtakes me and carries on driving quite slowly. Naturally, I overtake him. Of course, he hits the throttle (making it a bit more difficult for me). Anyway, I succeed and drive off not quite into the sunset. We reach our destination, I change lanes and slow down, the Puegeot guy catches up, grins at me and gives me the finger :))
Then, there's this chick whom I think doesn't really have a life, and who keeps contradicting me when it comes to English language. I'm an English trainer. She's a student.
Then, there's people coming into our office asking if we sell tram tickets. Tram tickets?! We're a language school... And it says so on the HUGE banner we have outside.
And yeah, I did need a place to vent. But still, if I promise to always truly cherish intelligent people, could I just catch a glimpse of life without stupidity? One day would suffice (for now).

Haina il face pe om...

... sau mai exact titlul
Prin natura locului de munca, intalnesc oameni de toate varstele si de toate categoriile (batranelul simpatic, batrinica-stie-tot, doamna certareata, domnul vesnic ocupat, etc), dar, dintre toate, se distinge (si nu ma pot abtine de la a face kitsch-ul de comparatie ce urmeaza) ca Luceafarul intre stele, categoria "brand uman".
Ca sa exemplific: "Buna ziua, sunt Profesor Doctor Docent, laureat al premiului "Nobel" pentru pace, literatura, fizica nucleara si medicina, rector al universitatii "Hiru Sparet", membru fondator al cenaclului "Flacara" si autorul bestseller-ului "Cum sa te lauzi mai cu spor", Gheorghe Gheorghe".  In regula domnule Gheorghe, ati realizat multe la viata dvs. si, probabil, va gadila orgoliul sa imi spuneti si mie (nu ca m-ar interesa), dar, ganditi-va, poate adorm pana ajungeti la partea esentiala (numele) SI, intamplator, doar dupa nume va pot cauta. Pana si Picasso (care chiar avea de unde alege, ca doar 18 ii erau doar numele) s-a limitat la 2. Nu stiu ce sa zic domnule Gheorghe, tare mi-e teama ca prea multa reclama e echivalentul a zero reclama uneori, sau chiar mai rau...
Semnat: Specialist PR, Alexandra (na!)

Soferul de taxi

primul stereotip dintr-o serie de multe...

Si azi, ca in multe alte dimineti, m-am 1. trezit tarziu, 2. enervat ca nu imi gaseam hainele si 3. invartit aiurea prin casa pana cand nu am mai avut timp de nimic, deci, am apelat, DIN NOU, la taxi. Cred ca daca ar fi sa pun la pusculita banii pe care ii dau pe taxi, as duce-o mult mai bine. Sincer, cred ca mi-as permite si o a doua vacanta de vara in fiecare an.
In fine, urc in taxi si spun "Catre strada X, va rog, raman 5 minute si apoi ne itnoarcem pe strada Y." "Hehe, domnita (cine zice domnita in zilele noastre?!) puteti ramani si 10 minute sau chiar pana maine, eu va astgept cuminte. Stiti..." Si da, puteam sa zic "Nu stiu si nici nu imi doresc", dar m-am gandit sa fiu draguta, in fond, omul chiar venise in cele 5 minute anuntate de dispecera. Demaram in tromba (si cu masina, si cu povestea vietii lui), trecem de primul rosu (in faza asta, deja STIAM mai multe decat vroiam). Mai mergem putin, mai scoate capul pe geam sa injure pe doamna care, sarmana, chair mergea regulamentar pe sensul ei (!!!), in timp ce continua cu istoria vietii lui. De ce nu mi-a sunat telefonul in tot timpul asta? De ce nu ne-a oprit politia?! De ce, Doamne, trebuie acuma sa traiesc cu toata istoria medicala, familiala si asa mai departe a omului incrustata in memorie?! Cred, sincer, ca as putea sa scriu biografia omului, sau, macar sa fac un "Stiati ca?" destul de la obiect. Inteleg ca datorita ochelarilor pe care (mai nou) ii port am o cautatura de psiholog, dar totusi... Chiar nu ma intereseaza ca de 30 de ore nu a mai iesit din masina (probabil nici pentur nevoi fiziologice, la cum mirosea acolo), sau ca a fost soferul personal al nu stiu cui, sau ca si-a inselat nevasta!!!
Intr-un final, ajungem la ultima destinatie si ii dau 20 de lei (cursa fusese 13 si ceva). Ii zic "De la 15 sa imi dati rest." Imi zice "Eu nu am decat 30 de lei, nu am cum sa va dau rest" si se uita duios la mine (a se citi "ia treci tu strada si schimba banii").  "Vai, chiar ca se castiga rau din taxi daca de ieri dimineata sunteti pe drumuri si abia aveti bani de o paine."
to be continued...

Bine v-am regasit!

... cu speranta ca nu m-ati abandonat, asa cum probabil ati crezut ca am facut eu

Sa incep cu, evident, scuzele. Dar nu sunt scuze, pe bune (tipic, nu?). De cand s-a terminat toata povestea cu nunta si luna de miere (care pare asa departe ca parca nici n-a fost) am reintrat in paine cum s-ar zice (sau, mai pe romaneste, am reinceput sa merg la lucru, unde au reinceput sa apara fel si fel de chestii care au reinceput sa ma tina la birou pana spre seara sau, pana in faza in care nu mai am chef de nimic.)

N-am mai citit de cam o luna (adica nu mai mult de 1 pagina, dupa care adorm), n-am mai gatit de nu stiu cand si cumparaturile le-am facut numai printre stropi, doar ca sa previn o eventuala panza de paianjen in camara (sau frigider).
In plus, am fost amandoi bolnavi (zici ca eram la concurs, care ia mai multe medicamente, sotul mult iubit a castigat, premiul fiind concediu medical pe 1 saptamana, losera de mine a mers la lucru, drep pedeapsa presupun).

Dar, DAR, sambata voi merge la festivalul de film francez. Foarte dragut si FOARTE ieftin si foarte altceva decat mersul la birou.
Promit sa continui saga nuntii si sa o incep si pe cea a lunii de miere. In plus, urmeaza sa postez un protest fata de soferii de taxi.
Va pup (no worries, nu mai sunt gripata)!

De-a v-ati ascunselea...

... cu nervii mei

Mult asteptata vacanta in Corfu se apropie cu pasi repezi (repezi de tot, chiar in galop). E practic aici (ceea ce nu pot spune despre crema de plaja, crema de dupa plaja, demachiantul si periutele de dinti pe care le-am cumparat saptamana trecuta si care imi provoaca dureri MARI de cap fiindca au disparut fara urma). Ma gandesc serios sa-mi pun o pereche de ochelari fumurii (da, in casa) si sa imbrac un costum de om serios pentru ca, din cate am vazut, chestiile astea dau super-randamet cand e vorba de chestiuni disparute. Le caut de o ora, fara sa exagerez. Am ajuns in faza in care am inceput sa despachetez partea facuta de bagaj (desi nu au cum sa fie acolo, avand in vedere ca nu le gasesc de ceva timp si deci, nu aveam cum sa le bag in vreo geanta). Le-am cautat in baie, in dormitor, in dulap, in frigider (da, pana si acolo), in camara... De fapt, nu stiu loc in care sa nu le fi cautat. Am folosit si varianta "suna un prieten" (asta, daca tot s-a relansat "Vreau sa fi Milionar"). Nimic.
Semnalmente: punga Kaufland mica (din aia cu 40 de bani) care contine 1 crema de plaja cu SPF30 (pentru ca, desi a trecut 99% din vara, eu tot alba sunt), 2 creme pentru dupa plaja (era oferta), demachiant si periute de dinti (una mov, una albastra). Oricine are informatii este rugat sa lase un comment.

Carti cu soundtrack

Din una intr-alta pe net, am dat peste un articol din The Telegraph despre carti cu soundtrack. Nu, nu ma refer la povesti in genul celor pe vinil pe care le ascultam cand eram copii. Carti, adica text, cu soundtrack.

Nu stiu daca sunt ingrijorata sau indigranata.
Poate ar fi trebuie sa mentionez de la inceput ca nu sunt un mare fan al e-readerelor, e-bookurilor ei e-altor chestii. Si ca imi plac cartile. Vorbesc despre carti normale, carti imprimate pe hartie. Imi place mirosul de carte, imi place sa-mi imaginez cum ar arata personajele, ce as face eu in locul lor si cum e vremea Rhett o parasete pe Scarlett (uneori, cand ma enerveaza la culme doamna O'Hara, e soare si canta pasarelele, alteori, cand mi-e mila de ea, ploua mocaneste). Nu vad de ce ar trebui sa recitesc cartea asta si sa ploua de fiecare data.
In orice caz, carti cu soundtrack. Daca ar fi audiobooks cu soundtrack, ar fi un fel de foileton radiofonic. Daca mai adaugam niste imagini, eventual in format .gif, avem un film mai prost facut.
Of...
PS: ce se intampla daca citesc mai lent? ploua cand aia merg la plaja si se sparge farfuria cand ei deja merg la culcare?

Cine se trezeste de dimineata...

... cauta uragane cu nume de barbati.
Verificam inbox-ul azi-dimineata cand mi-a atras atentia o stire despre uraganul Irene (nu ca m-as fi asteptat sa fie numit Paul sau Peter) care a cam blocat totul prin New York si da, imi pare rau de bietii oameni, dar pe de alta parte, m-a lovit un sentiment de revolta cu iz feminist.
Stiu ca nu toate uraganele si furtunile devastatoare (si pietele) au nume de femei, dar spuneti voi daca stiti vreun dezastru natural cu nume de barbat (de ex. cutremurul Rick, ciclonul George, etc.). E ok, nici eu nu stiu (sau poate nu ma informez destul) drept pentru care am petrecut dimineata informandu-ma despre "cei mai violenti uragani":
- 1979, Frederic, categoria 3 (adica destul de rau, pentru ca e 3 din 5);
- 1980, Allen, tot de nota 3;
- 1989, Hugo, 4 (adica groaznic de-a dreptul)
- 1992, cel mai groaznic si devastator uragan, printre FOARTE putinele cu nota maxima (si mult mai rau decat etern pomenitul Katrina), uraganul Andrew.
Acum pot sa ma intorc la lucruri mai importante, cum ar fi un mic dejun FOARTE intarziat.

din seria ce "gasesti pe net"

sau, mai exact, ce gasesc altii si sunt suficient de darnici incat sa imparta cu tine.
Pe foarte scurt (pentru ca nu e necesar sa zic foarte multe tinand cont ca am sa impart la randul meu link-ul primit via YM si puteti sa va faceti si voi o parere) am primit azi un link (dupa cum spuneam) catre un site al lui Ulrich Collette (mda, nici mie nu imi spunea nimic numele), un tip din Canada, fotograf de felul sau, care s-a gandit sa initieze un proiect interesant (ma rog, i-a venit ideea in timp ce lucra la o poza de-a fiului sau, din cate am citit si puteti si voi citi in partea de jos a paginii.
Recunosc, sunt intrigata, astept urmatoarele fotografii cu destul de mare interes (si da, as fi curiasa cum ar arata familia mea in genul asta de poze).

Supa de Rosii

Un fel de gazpacho care nu e gazpacho


Cand e atat de cald ca nu mai stii ce sa faci (si, cu toate astea, gurile flamande se cer a fi hranite - si nu ma refer la un platou rece acuma) supa de rosii cu busuioc (si crutoane) e cea mai rapida varianta de "mancare gatita".

Ce ne trebuie pentru 4 portii:
- 4 rosii maricele (fie proaspete si decojite, fie din conserva - doar ca atunci trebuie mai mult de 4)
- usturoi (5, 6 catei)
- 2-3 frunze de busuioc (sau o lingurita de busuioc uscat, varianta pliculet din comert)
- o frunza de dafin
- o lingura de ulei de masline
- sare, piper
- apa (cam 750ml)
(eventual cimbru)
Si ce facem cu ele:
- curatam si pisam usturoiul si il calim in uleiul de masline
- adaugam rosiile decojite si taiate cubulete
- adaugam condimentele (mai putin busuiocul)
- adaugam apa
- adaugam busuiocul
Dupa care mai lasam 5 minute sa fiarba, cu capacul pus si GATA! (nu uitati sa prajiti painea intre timp)


-

Intotdeauna mi-a placut sa petrec timp in bucatarie. Ma enervam cumplit cand tot ce imi dadea mama sa fac (numindu-ma ucenic) era un curatat de morcov (ca la cartofi imi lua prea mult timp) sau un spalat de vase. Asa ca, acum ca am putere deplina asupra lingurii de lemn, a tigailor si a condimentelor (mai putin asupra timpului liber care e tot mai putin), m-am gandit ca ar fi dragut sa mai postez din cand in cand cate o inventie (a se citi "reteta imbunatatita").

the posts published below (the one about Bucharest and the film review) were published some time ago (1 or even 2 years ago) but since I've been working on "redecorating" my blog, I had to move them from one place to another and eventually republish them, that's why they appear with today's date.

Bucharest as a breath of fresh air

This is a story of things that begin badly but end well.

Day1, “Hello Saturday”: Of course, one alarm clock never does its job as well as 2 alarm clocks… But I’m guessing you can have 100 of them and, if you are tired, they are still useless. This was my case.

The evening before, as I was packing, I promised myself I’d go to bed early, or at least earlier than the nights before (thinking that I had to wake up at half past 5). But well, as always, I found all sorts of other things to do (like waste my time online, complain about the music, then realize that I hated my music and start downloading something new), so by 10pm I hadn’t even really started packing. The suitcase was in the middle of the room, but all my clothes were still in the drawers. A little voice started mumbling in my head that I should start with my luggage but I was not really in the mood. Anyhow, looking at the time, I realized the little voice was right so I started putting some clothes in the suitcase, Then I took them out, I had forgotten about the shoes. At about 12 (midnight I mean) I was almost finished with checking and rechecking and taking stuff out of and putting other stuff into my suitcase. Then I said to myself “The train ride takes 8hours… I should download some movies”, so another couple of hours went by. One would think downloading is easy, just click on the title and wait a few minutes. But first, you have to decide what to download, and, exactly when you feel you’ve reached a decision, you find something better, read the plot outline, skip through the cast, right to the comments page. The first comment is bad. Really bad. You try to ignore it, but still that little voice keeps nagging. You give up, and go back to your previous choice of which you are by now dissatisfied since you built yourself up for the other one. Eventually I found something, I had read the book so… Why not? Slow download speed. Murphy was right. Always. Estimated time: eternity. Perfect, just perfect. Then I remembered someone had told me about this TV series so, without thinking, I downloaded the first season (it was an excellent choice, since the series is quite funny and entertaining).

Luggage – check; watchable stuff – check. What else? Oh, yeah, I should take a shower and sleep. Wait a minute… where is my train ticket? So I started rummaging through my luggage again, took everything out, put everything back in – no train ticket. Desperation kicked in; I was literally pulling my hair out by the time I found the ticket; it was in my lunch bag (why and how it got there… I have no idea). But good thing I found it there, because I had forgotten about my lunch. It was already 2 am. I was too tired to cook so I decided not to pack any lunch, but to buy some crappy food from the train instead. Off to sleep. Luggage – check; watchable stuff – check, train tickets – check… what am I forgetting?

The alarms. Right. I set all 3 of my phones to a quarter past five, just to make sure I’d finish in time (‘cause I’m a bit freaked out by the thought of missing my train, usually). Off to sleep (this time for real).

Unfortunately for myself, 3 hours of stressful sleep equal 1hour or normal sleep (at most). As the alarms started going off, I started turning them off and I said to myself “5 more minutes, there’s enough time”… There wasn’t, because the 5 minutes became 50 and my train was leaving at 7 am. When I snapped back to reality, I was completely crazed. Pulled some clothes on, took my bags (forgot half of the important stuff like the camera and some gifts) and called a taxi. Murphy’s reasoning proved true again. I waited 10 minutes for the lady at the other end of the line to tell me she hasn’t got any available taxis in my area. I decided to run to the nearest taxi stand, caught a taxi (fortunately) and after what seemed to be endless time spent at traffic light I arrived at the train station in the nick of time. I ran towards the train, managed to get on and as I was still searching for my seat, the train left. I felt so relieved! “Phew!” I said to myself “Can’t believe I’ve managed to pull this off”.

“Hi, my name is Nadina!” “Hi! I’m Alexandra” (if you really need to know). We started talking about this and that. She was going to Filiasi (I would later be very glad she was not travelling towards Bucharest), to her parents’ house. She needed some chicken and such, because the market is expensive. Anyhow she suffered from God knows how many bacteria (information that she willingly shared) and market food is not trustworthy. Nothing is in fact trustworthy, because, of course, there is this ginormous conspiracy going on. “Ok” I said to myself, “But what do you do?”I asked her. “I’m a teacher” she responded. “Oh great, so you mold young people into adults” (just wonderful). No really feeling up to sharing my life with a stranger (not quite a sane one I would add), I said to her “How about watching a movie?” “Sure!” she enthusiastically replied. I took out my laptop and randomly played a film. It was a thriller, not the best but it was better than hearing anymore personal details. Too bad reality was different. Could you imagine that her life resembled the movie? And of course, she had comments to every scene, every actor/actress, every plot twist…

After 5 daunting hours, we arrived at Filiasi. We said our goodbyes and she got off the train. I could never understand train talk (or bus talk, tram talk or other similar talks), telling personal stuff to strangers (although it’s probably easier to talk to a stranger… somehow?). Finally I could watch the series. Brilliant. I started laughing at the first lines (I’m sure now that all the people around me were looking at me a bit strangely, but I just couldn’t stop laughing). Suddenly, the road didn’t seem so long and boring anymore and the 3 remaining hours went by very fast. By the time I arrived, I was secretly hoping for another 12 minutes so that I could finish watching the current episode. Of course I was happy to arrive, but I got so caught up in the story and I was having so much fun…

I got of the train amongst the last passengers, not wanting to push or get pushed around by the ones who were running to the doors like the train was supposed to leave any second. First thing I noticed – masks. A lot of them. I was (and still am) surprised how easily people can be manipulated into… almost anything.

Anyway, I went towards McDonalds (that’s where I was supposed to meet with Alex who was running a bit late, mostly because I had texted him that the train was going to arrive later).

After the “hello” ’s and the “how are you” ’s we went out the train station and into the tube station to grab one that would take us “home”. I’m not yet able to comprehend the tube system, but maybe in time it will reveal it’s “secrets” to me. We arrived home at about half past four if I’m not mistaken, after changing several (2, to be more specific) means of transport. Alex has the absolute bachelor’s crib (or so he wants people to think). Even the bathroom sais “Men only” so it was kind of awkward for me to invade his space, but he seemed happy to have me over. Frankly, I was happy to be there; he’s a nice guy and a good friend.

I don’t remember much about the first day, I was extremely tired and I was literally feeling the need to help my eyes stay open with tooth picks (just like Tom in “Tom&Jerry”). I remember unpacking some stuff, and going to some pub where the waiter didn’t speak Romanian too well, but he understood what we wanted, so it was perfect. We met with some of his former high-school colleagues, sat down at a table, ordered some drinks and started chatting. I don’t even remember what we talked about (although the most popular topic these times – the presidential elections – must have come up), but I do remember the tea I ordered was below expectations (on the bright side, it was only 5 lei, so it measured up to it’s price more than enough).

We went home quite early (we caught the tube so it couldn’t have been later than 11) planning to grab a good night’s sleep. But we started talking (or better said, I started talking) and we talked for hours. I probably told him more than I should have because at one moment he told me I was crazy, but the fact is I do express myself a bit weirdly when it comes to my feeling, so I don’t blame him. Since I remember inhabiting this planet, I’ve always felt the need to divide an issue into 7345 pieces, especially when it comes to how and what I’m feeling. Probably comes out of lack of confidence, or maybe just control freak-ness.

It was about 3 or 4 am when we finally couldn’t take being awake any longer.

PS: I remember also going to a concert, it was Damian Draghici, sort of gipsy music, quite interesting, but not the place to leave anything unattended.

To be continued...

...


Since stories are all about endings, here is this one's...  
The days went by quickly, walking through the city, visiting this and that, going here and there, meeting X and Y... Of course each day had a name and it's own series of events, but now they seem irrelevant. It's been 3 weeks since I came back to my routine (wake up, go to work, work-work-work, chat with the girls, some more work, go home, stare at the ceiling, read/study, sleep) and nothing really seems relevant anymore, except maybe the fact that I really need a vacation AGAIN. And yes, the strange feeling that I forgot something in Bucharest...

A true masterpiece of teen horror...?!

I'm not really into writing reviews, but I figure that if a film really makes an impression (either good or bad), it's worth a few moments of reflecting over...
So here it goes!

Have just watched Jen's Body. WHY?! Well, I was sick, indoors and in need of entertainment. Unfortunately, I couldn't even go buy myself some popcorn and at one point I was aching for some, but it was still a good treat without it. The thing is that I'm really confused now: should I give it a fair 7 for the laughs I had watching it or a generous 3 for the actual... film.

And now, on with the spoilers...

Where do I even start...

Jen (the one whom everyone wants to be or be with) and her dorky, needy friend named... Needy, have been BFFs for their entire lifetimes. They have nothing in common, but, then again, in Devil's Kettle (yeah, that's where they live), they seem to make up 90% of the female population, so it's kind of predictable that they'd be friends. Needy is dating this nice young boy every mom wishes her daughter would bring home, Chip, and Jen, well she's not much into dating, she's more of an... action oriented person.

The story, as short as possible: concert - rock band – fire - Jen kidnapped – returns to Needy growling and barfing black liquid – starts eating people (mainly guys, and this goes on throughout the film, the rest is not very relevant) – attacks Chip(the above mentioned boyfriend of the dork – Needy goes crazy – girls fight in Jen's bedroom – Needy stabs Jen with a paper cutter right in her heart (now that takes precision!) – mommy enters (where was she in all the other scenes, social services should do something about her) – Needy goes to the looney bin – Needy discovers demon powers rubbed off on her – Needy flies out of the looney bin and butchers the rock band – the end.

But the film is really fun and enjoyable. I mean watching how Jen transitions from a growling and barfing prehistorical creature to a normal teen in just half a night (without any explanations) and then getting to see her excellent table manners ( yes, she does get naked to kill the guys, but still, she manages to splash blood all over the place except on her clothes) is a real treat. I mean, we can learn from that; I know I have problems even when I'm eating something medium rare. Oh an the tongue burning scene is so completely and utterly pointless and uncalled for!

I must say that one of my favorite scenes is when she starts sipping blood from that emo guy's stomach
as if it were some sort of wonder spring. Oh course, there is an entire prelude before she actually gets to the sipping part; first she lures the unsuspecting hormone charged teen, then she takes off half her clothes to make sure the guy really wants her (as if that's really necessary), then she pulls all sorts of tricks to scare the pants off him (like changing her eye color) and only then does she start to devour her already suspecting prey.

Then, I really need to mention I just love the town they're living in. Devil's Kettle – sounds lovable, doesn't it? This Devil's Kettle (I just love repeating it) is the perfect teen town. In Devil's Kettle, the town where they have this weird waterfall where you can throw things in and they never surface – or so the scientist have found in all their research, that included throwing plastic balls which looked like poor Christmas decorations in it, there are no parents in sight. Not when children are murdered in broad day light, not when someone/something is growling in their kitchen. No parents, I tell you. Oh, except for the end when, after what seems like half an hour of window breaking, furniture cracking, cat-fight, with all the screaming one can imagine when Jen's mom finally decides to check on her already stabbed demon daughter. Speaking of whom (or which, because she's not really human), why does she feel the need to lie? I mean, she tells Needy “I eat guys... mmm, they're so yummy” and then goes all little-goody-two-shoes?! And if “someone” wanted to portray duality, conflict between the two immaterial things living inside the same body, well that's just too much for this film, honestly. And impossible for that matter, I mean she died so the real soul was very much gone before the demon revitalized the butchered pieces of Jennifer.


One more incredibly interesting fact about Devil's Kettle (frankly I'm surprised nothing happened there until now) is how that little God forsaken town has the most complete book collection on occultism, conveniently divided into the following sections: “white magic”, “black magic” and “whatever the character may need”, so that Needy easily finds everything she needs on the demon possessing Jen and all the details about killing it (I wonder what section that book was in).

At the end we see how Needy flies out of the looney bin, finds the place where the never surfacing waterfall surfaces, grabs the knife which was used by the rockers to sacrifice Jen and off she goes to sacrifice the Low Shoulder band members (who should have been called Slow instead of Low). All this being said and done, we (or, at least I) end up wondering: how ever can someone choose Jennifer as being the virgin and not Needy?

But seriously now, beyond all that, the film does exactly what it's supposed to do: be an enjoyable, popcorn, teen horror flick.

O scurta scurta scurta observatie

Da, articolele de mai jos (cel cu Apa Calda - da, inca simt nevoia sa ma adresez politicos, folosind majuscule, nu cumva sa se supere si sa pelce din nou - si cel cu mamica) sunt mai vechi, mult mai vechi, dar cum sunt in plin proces de reamenajare, ele apar ca fiind recente pentru ca le-am mutat dintr-o parte in alta pana aproape le-am sters si, apoi, ca sa fiu sigura ca imi raman, le-am repostat. (data reala este undeva in primavara lui 2010).

Scrisoare catre Apa Calda

Draga Apa Calda (sau, pot sa-ti spun doar Calda?),

Imi lipsesti tare mult. De cand ai plecat sufar in fiecare zi si, desi duc o lupta crancena cu sora ta cea rea, Apa Rece, nu reusim nicicum sa ajungem la un consens. Asa ca, zilnic, plec in cautarea ta dar, cu fiecare zi trecuta, incep sa cred ca te-ai evaporate pentru totdeauna. Incerc sa imi spun ca nu e asa, ca dupa relatia lunga pe care am avut-o nu se poate sa ma fi parasit asa, doar cu biletul acela din casa scarilor. Nici macar nu l-ai semnat… Vai, Calda, cat te regret.
Ma gandesc cu durere in suflet (si nu numai, multumita surorii tale malefice) la orele magice petrecute in compania ta. Cum ma bucuram ca putem sa ne intalnim la orice ora din zi sau din noapte, cum pregateam lumanari si esente parfumate… Dar intotdeauna, sa stii, intotdeauna m-am bucurat si de scurtele noastre intalniri cu prietenii (ma refer aici la Vase si Tacamuri si, sa stii, si ele iti duc dorul)…
Totusi, cum se spune, speranta moare ultima; asa ca, astept cu infrigurare (cu accentual pe FRIG) revenirea ta. Trebuie sa te intorci… pentru mine.

Cu drag,
Abonat Colterm, platitor de taxe si impozite.

E ziua ta mamico...

... si-n dar ti-am adus inima
Isi mai aduce cineva aminte cantecelele de la serbari? Catrenele pe care le invatam de zor inca din luna Ianuarie? Cine mai stie cum e sa ai degetele manjite cu aracet dupa ce te-ai chinuit sa faci o felicitare "frumoasa" pentru care mamei i s-au umezit ochii, la fel ca in fiecare an. Cati dintre voi au adunat ghiocei din gradina anul acesta? Cati au facut coronite din toporasi?
Mama mea are o cutie plina cu fiecare hartie manjita care se numea pictura la vremea ei, fiecare pana cu margele care se vroia a fi martisor, fiecare floare presata... Le tine cum probabil le voi tine si eu ani si ani la rand, doar ca sa se intoarca la ele si sa isi aduca aminte ce vremuri erau atunci...
Nu am mai vazut martisoare in pieptul fetelor, nu am mai vazut cozi la florarii, nu am mai vazut vanzatori ambulanti la tot coltul... Criza? Sau doar plictiseala, rutina si distanta tot mai mare pe care o punem intre noi, romanii, si traditiile noastre?! Eh, tendinte de modernizare...
Ma recunosc, si eu, invinsa de lumea moderna...