I don't believe...

- I don't believe in unconditional love. there's always something we all need from our loved ones. we need recognition of who we are ("hey there, this is my gf/bf/hubby/wife.."). we need our peck on the forehead when luvvey comes back from work/hell/the shop/etc. we need our birthday to be remembered. it doesn't have to be remembered with an actual present. a phone call if yer not there is nice. a card. a few lines. if yer there, you can always steal a flower from the neighbours' garden. spending a few minutes every other day to call or drop a line or sit down and really talk. if you work 22 hours a day, a relationship can't really work out. a minimum of commitment is required.

- I don't believe in hollywood nor bollywood. if I've learned one thing in life: happy ends only occur in movies. or for some people who're deluding themselves. what you never see is what happens after happily ever after? they go to the toilet, they start to lie where they go when they're supposedly working long hours (the pub/their secretary's/etc.), they fall out of love, the babies never sleep through a whole night and the level of being exhausted only raises. reality sets in and they get divorced eventually.

- I don't believe in a god. if there's a god, she has a damn weird sense of humour. but since I can neither see nor feel nor smell that presence... I can't believe in it. the thought of being able to blame whatever goes wrong onto someone else... my opinion is: it's our own doing. or bad timing. general piss-poor performance. fucking up.

- I don't believe in "it'll all be good in the end". because it's not. maybe the obstacles change. or the point of view. the angle at which you look at some things. or ya simply cease to care about stuff that much. it sucks and then you keep on living. and then ya start to look the other way.

- I don't believe in "there's one for everyone". if there was, why are there so many singles? or wrecked marriages? or kids growing up on the streets? or people hardened by life to an extent they forget their heart does more than pumping venom through their body? people hurting each other? people killing each other in every sense of the word?

welcome back, depression, old mate. I've missed you. yeah right.

3 days in a row

on friday, I dressed up a lil and went to a job interview after work. I like going to these as it's the ultimate ego-trip for me. where else can ya talk about yourself and your achievements for 30 - 60 mins?
;o)

I think it went well, we'll see what the outcome of it may be. it's not really so important there'll be any outcome though... I still have a job I despise which pays most of my bills. well, apart from what sheryl c. sang "I think a change / a change / would do ya good / would do ya good"


on an even lighter note: my "sis" hatched another offspring, which makes me once again proud auntie daria to a lovely little girl. she just sent me pics of her two goldies, her 6-year-old son holding tiny little baby neice and grinning as if he's just won the footy world championship. there's a good lad.

it'll be quite a bit of time untill we'll be able to meet live again, since they live on the other bloody side of the planet. but thanks to internet and phones, it doesn't seem like we're out of each other's lives at all.


me and my lil bro are gonna go visit me mammy in a little while. she's had a rough week and needs to be cheered up. good thing my kitchen is stashed with vodka for afterwards ;-))

don't ask me why, but every time I see this I can't
help but laugh.
I like being silly, me. :D

client calling

client Y has been calling the 3rd time today now.

the first time it was his assistant.

the second time it was Y himself, asking me if I'm up for his sweet loving or if I'm still cheating on him with his assistant (and other men)

"I'm completely passionless about that" I answer.

the third time he wants products xyz, "it's a wedding present"

"am I to go and pick out rings now?" I chuckle.

he giggles and says "ah well, if I can have my stuff tomorrow?"

I laugh.

"I love you" he sings into the phone.

we hang up.

rain questions

is it the rain that's making me so melancholy? what's so special about a sunday that it opens up old wounds? why do I always already see the end about stuff even before it's had a chance to even happen? how could the mourning ever stop if I never let it go away and pass? is this my way to cope with loss? even though there might still be a chance of change of the outcome? where's the garderobiére that'll let me check in my pain for a couple of hours while my mind goes partying. I promise I'll pick it back up.

and what's the goddamn point in giving me his new mobile number when his phone is constantly switched off? mindgames? or just zero network connection?

I thought I was over this years ago. I can't continue scratching those scars and reopen them all the time. am I such a sucker for punishment that I'd give anything, any pain there'll be (and I already know there will be hell to pay for me when this is over) to get another week, or at least another day... or a mere couple of hours?

rain, at least wash my questions away and give me a rest from it all.

put a smile upon my face

when getting into office this morning, I've got mail.

"I will be in Darialand for two weeks in May. I plan on visiting one person. I wonder who it is. :) "


3 lines put a smile upon my face.

hungover anger

it's saturday morning when the phone rings and CP informs me he'll stop by tomorrow (he was supposed to hail in in a week's time). no problem, I'm a friggin' hotel, so I advise him no worries, but he can't expect the house to be clean or tidy.

on sunday I pick him up at the station, he's packed with bags like a donkey on market day, but alright. back home, I feed him with cake, we have a little talk, I cook him dinner, we eat, I have a look at some pictures he took on his trip.
that's when he beats around the bush about if I could go ahead and do what we were discussing the other month while chatting.

"what do you mean?" I ask.
"well, you know... we were kinda cybering, and I wondered..." he actually blushes.

now, the thing is this: I've zero problems with a one-nighter or a quickie. none at all. but if you plan to have anything in the ways of that, you might want to "work onto" that one. and not just throw it on the table after dinner. you might also think it's a crap idea telling me for months how you find tiny, submissive lilac-with-green-spots women cute when I'm a friggin tigress, no less. that just doesn't work out. it's not like I jump the gun by the flick of a switch.

"don't play with fire if you can't handle the heat" says I. of course he doesn't get it. he quickly tries to step out of the dung by implying he would "return the favour" (he means a nice homemade bj). to which I answer I don't need any extra frustration, thanksalot, especially since I don't think he knows what he's doing and he should steer his thoughts onto something else.

to sum it up: I give him shelter and food, and out of the blue, he asks for a bj.

now, a lesser woman than me would've just hit him in the snout for that one. or date-raped him. or basically called him an appropriate name. I simply grinned at him and told him to keep playing with his legos. I have the whole awkward situation under control.


half an hour later, MR shows up as we've figured out it's a good excuse as any to go clubbing. MR and me go way back. we've been through good times and bad, and at some stage we thought it'd be a hoot to get engaged. even though MR and me don't "play in the same team". as in... he's gay.

so off into the night we float, off to The Park, where I forcefeed myself a touchdown. afterwards we hit K-Club where the pink community has a party going on. when we step into the club, it's still kinda empty, but fills and heats up after 20 minutes. MR and me both have 4 vodka lemon and 1 shot of rotgut each and by that time we're sweating and dancing as if there's no tomorrow. both MR and me meet quite a few mates and have a laugh with them; by the time we leave it's about 2 am and we're quite exhausted. we decide to move onto L-Club, where MR and me once worked it like we owned it.

read: we both used to be bar-personnel and some nights got paid to take a few clothes off and dance... for money. not as in lap dance, but as in heat-'em-up. one night they had a cage on the side of the dancefloor and I put MR inside... but that's a different story... *chuckles*

anyways, we step outside and across the road and walk towards downtown, when I manage to hail a cab that tries to speed by. I whistle and wave and cabbie takes a pity and takes us along. by that time my voice (whettened by a cocktail, 4 longdrinks and that shot) is getting deeper and huskier by the minute. think bob mitchum meets mari faithful. that'd be moi. so into L-Club we stumble and I meet L, an ex, and we fall into each others arms screaming delight. the two lads in my company and me dance for another half hour or so, while I manage to chuck down a cola. I'm buzzed to the point where I know there'll be hell to pay come morning.

it's nearing 3 when we crawl towards my house and MR is taking the massive piss at CP, especially since I told him what that one would've liked to get. we get to my house, I have a shower while the lads talk bull in the livingroom. it's after 3 when I call a cab for MR and I fall into bed. that's when my stomach decides to have the hangover right now. I really have to concentrate to keep the drinks inside.

at 8:30 CP wakes me up, it's almost time for him to leave, and I don't feel like walking him back to the station, especially since the hangover has me in its claws.

spending the day on the couch, nursing the hangover, while watching a couple of dead like me episodes and kind of coaxing my stomach to stop bugging me off can be quite nice at times.


did I ask for that one? am I right to be angry?

because - so help me fuck - I am!

thank fuck it's friday

... hell yeah!

my little bro's off to barca tonight to spend a coupla days with his gf there. lucky bugger. I tried to talk him into changing the name on his flight ticket to mine, but he wouldn't budge. bastard.

the past 2 nights I kept myself laughing over a few episodes of Trailer Park Boys. it's canadian, it's hillarious, it's quite unusual. as the title says, it's about a bunch of people living in a trailer park, the two main characters just got out of jail after 18 months and they try to get their act together in the real world. as in... ricky tries to get back to his dope-growing-and-selling business, while julian gets back into his usual role of king-of-the-trailer-park. he has a glass of alc on ice in his paw in every scene and he's the only sensible one as far as I can tell. heh.

the past few weeks, a couple of mates of mine tried to grab a hold on everyone they know to set up a party-weekend in am'dam; I'm looking forward to that one. even if not everyone's bound to show up, it's a good excuse as any to go there and have a bit of fun. just a coupla weeks now!

apart from that, it's less than 3 hours of pretending to slave away at office now... I've managed to produce yet another perfect glass of latte macchiato with my dungy little espresso machine here... aye, I's that gifted, really hehehe
backpack full of library books I've read in the past 2 weeks to return and then pick up some new ones, while waiting for the coupla dozen I just bought on ebay. everybody needs a hobby, right? (can someone please buy me a few more shelves, please?) a sixpack cooling in the fridge, just waiting for me...

it's sunny outside, seems as if the summer's decided on coming back. about friggin' time!

so, what else do I need/want? I can't think of anything right now. can't be arsed. I have what I need.

where did that come from???

fire water hothothot

when your mouth goes numb
and you're sweating like a pig
and your nose starts to run
and your tongue is burning

you know

THE KEBAB YOU JUST INHALED WAS TOO FECKEN HOT!!!

I want a beer now.

cathegorizing

... is mean, I know. yadda yadda. though, it's a good way to sort out the worthy from the crap ones
*chuckles*

so, let's see where it all fits in, shall we?


Mr. Runs-away

known to tease, but when it's time to throw the cards on the table, he'll chicken out and runs as if the house is on fire. shoot the start-gun and take his time when he runs the 100 metres.


Mr. oh-my-god-you-scare-me

known to be a bigger pussy than the ones the girls he annoys have in their pants. he'll chat you up because he has nothing better to do and when it's time to get to business, he'll start whining like the 5-year-old he really is, demanding for his mummy. immediately. give him a security blanket and send him home.


Mr. whoops-I-forgot-to-tell-you-but-I'm-really-already-married

has had a bit of amnesia. he plainly forgets to tell his object of desire that he's already coupled up after having wasted a considerable amount of your time. a tell-tale sign is him telling you he has actually had proper cooked food at home or wears clean ironed clothing. get in contact with her-indoors and then lean back to enjoy the show, if so inclined.


Mr. You're-not-a-proper-woman

that one's really funny. you can double-check your XX-chromosomes as much as you like, point out you do have something in the way of a pussy and tits and have menstruated before, but he won't believe any of it, because you don't fit into his target-group for whatever reasons he is likely to make up to make you feel a dope. take a pair of scissors and turn him into a non-proper woman, too and then see how he takes that.


Mr. I've-decided-for-something/someone-else

is someone who'll stand in line at MickyD's for 20 minutes without the ability to choose his burger. He'll change his opinion about sod-all every 5 minutes and your time will be wasted. He'll keep you hanging in the air he clears off oxygen, making you believe he'll know in a minute or two. get out before you notice you're suddenly 42 and you've wasted the past 8 years of your life with someone like that.


Mr. I-want-things-done-exactly-like-my-mammy-did

is someone who thinks they're all cunts apart from his good old mammy. he will go crazy if his undies ain't ironed, the food isn't oversalted, the pasta ain't lumpy and you don't mommy him around 24/7, cooing at him when he has a life-threatening cold or packing him a work-lunch. that one doesn't look for a partner, he only wants to do his mother. send him packing, you don't need another woman's child.


Mr. I'm-too-cheap-to-pay-for-a-prostitute

is someone who thinks, since he's buying you a drink when you go out, he'll get some should you go home with him. he doesn't want sex, he wants the friggin' olympics. trying to go through the kama sutra in just one night, while not giving a fly's shit about you or your feelings, coz it isn't so important she will have a good time, as long as he's squirted all over the place (of course he would never put the sheets into the washing machine, he wouldn't even know where the latter is). as long as he's not offering the regular trip to tiffy's or puts a merc in front of your door, he must be dreaming and should be given the phone number of a local brothel to do his business at.



the list is endless, but I can't be arsed to write more right now. heh.

one day, my prince will come. he won't be riding along on a horse, but I'll ride his pony alright.

sunday at the zoo

sometimes it helps doing something quite normal to help keeping the boredom at bay. like going to the city zoo on a sunday afternoon. take yer mammy along, too. it's something parents should do (and how they all did... it felt like half the city with kids <10 were running around there, watching the seals and lions and what-have-ya while trying to prevent their offspring stagediving into the penguin pond or getting trampled by the buffalo herd.

anyways, me good ole mammy and me walked around, watched the seals getting fed and walked on to the coati-mundi. in case you don't know what that is: they look like cats with a long, long nose and a long bushy tail. check them out:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coatimundi

they're quite cute, running around like cats on lsd, jumping on and off their play-trees. they had quite a litter of young with them, I had to resist the temptation of grabbing one and taking it home. heh.

we kept on talking about whatever popped up, saying hello to the chamoises, monkeys and some birds and had a look at 2 tired fat brown bears.

"ooh ain't those cute and cuddly" says mum.
"well... they're killer machines. you go give 'em a big hug, they'll shred ya to pieces and have lunch of you" okay, I am mean at times.
hehehehe

past the snowowls.
"harry P. has one of those!" I exclaim in mock laughter.
she only shakes her head and chuckles.

anyways... I already notice how this story is actually a lot lamer than I thought in the beginning, I'll just shorten it down with we had cappuccino and grinned at parents with screaming, hysteric toddlers and went off to sit with the lions.

"did you know" asks mother "last year, they had brought in a "new" jaguar male, and even though they tried to get him used to the rest of the group, one afternoon it decided it didn't like one of the jaguar girls and jumped it in front of the eyes of quite a crowd of little kids and clawed the living daylights out of the other cat, killed it right there and then. when someone managed to get a cat-minder around to help, there was nothing that could be done about it."

I shudder and grin and we walk off to the exit where I buy the kids of her friend 2 little carved wooden seals as presents. right after having "gotten" myself on the back of the pants because the toilet was crap. if you get my drift. only happens when ya wear sandy-brown fatigues. and here I thought I was potty-trained. oh well.

heh.

we walk home back to my house, which is a nice little 30-minutes stroll through a couple of parks and backstreets while I tell her how annoyed I am over the fact that I'm superwoman noone seems to get interested in seeing more of me.

we get back to my place and I spoil her with a footbath, giving her a footmassage, dinner (she gets to choose from 2 menus, already cooked and waiting in the fridge, only needs to be nuked) and a ramazotti on ice/lemon slice after that. she calls her friend twice to brag.

since it was mum's first holiday day, I think it's just right to give her some treat. I didn't have an easy childhood, but she tried her best.
;o)