You know who Csokas Marton is? It's this Hungarian-New Zealand actor who played Trevor Goodchild in Aeon Flux, Yorgi in XXX, and recently discoverd that he also played in The Bourne Supremacy, my fave Bourne movie because smoking HOT Karl Urban plays in it. Csokas was "Berlin". Anyway, I'm totally loving Csokas because he's Hungarian and that's enough for me to love someone. so I was doing a little bit of research to take my head off the job for a second and guess what did I found out? He's EXACTLY 10 years my senior. He was born the same day I was born... well, ten years before, but still! He's a 66-06-30 and I'm a 76-06-30. what are the chances of that! Well, now you know who is my fave actor. Do you think he would consider making a slashy movie with Karl Urban? Derek Magyar? ^_^
--
« Every schilling you save puts a man out of Work for a Day. »
- John Maynard Keynes
Mar 28, 2008
The Meaning of Ignorance
I haven't tested this properly yet. I have no idea if this is working as it's supposed to. Fuck, I was so tired lastnight, I hit the bed... and started working on a fic called "Bitch". What's about? Nothing. Mainly about me going out of my head because, really, I need my krumggory-fix to keep going. (Truth or Dare kind of story where Cedric is made become Viktor's bitch.)
I have this account in Yahoo! and I was seeing these "celebrities" of which you can get the latest gossip. Thing is that I can't recognize any of them. What does that mean? I'm that alienated from the tv?
I have this account in Yahoo! and I was seeing these "celebrities" of which you can get the latest gossip. Thing is that I can't recognize any of them. What does that mean? I'm that alienated from the tv?
Mar 27, 2008
It's KRUMGGORY! Hello!? Am I the Only One in here?
Let's talk about FUCKED UP. I can't access the blog or the lj or any shit from the office because the motherfucking, baby raping, lousy fuck, cheap whore bastards snotty cocksucking shit sons of a whore T.I. motherfuckers fucked up the websense AGAIN. This comes like a seasonal thing. I think it must be the loser asshole's birthday. He must sit in his smelly office wallpapered with Lara Croft pictures, in his plaid pants that are tight on his bony, hollow ass and toothpick-like legs, shirt buttoned up to the top and tucked in, but tucked into his whities, greased hair and face distorted by pimps and is pissed because yet again another year passed and he's still a virgin. No whore would take his money no matter how he says that he has no diseases. Sure the cheap whores look him up and down and smirk saying: "Oh I know that." Fuck, the kind of asshole that wouldn't get a venereal disease if he's not probled by the proctologist with a contaminated glove. I bet he even tried to talk another geek into giving him a blow job, promising to reciprocate, or even put it out for him, and the other, who is equally desperate and loser, said yes until he saw his infected, supurating pimple like miniature dick and decided that the fate of a male Vestal Virgin wasn't so bad after all.
Yeah, and this time of the year, the loser asshole who yet again tried to pay a whore but was refused (and he probably sought out one of those really ugly, really desperate, half dead junky whores who would fuck a mouse for a fix), he tried to convince another loser and was turned down, tried to rape a child but the child in question couldn't stop laughing at the site of his dick, or asked: "and when you get better that thing will dry and fall off?", tried to get a doll but no one was willing to sell him one, well he decided he was going to fuck, one way or another, and so he fucked the internet access so everybody is as unhappy as he is. Man! Oh well, it lasts usually like... three-four weeks? He thinks he's all mighty... yeah... like a McDonald's employee. Sod off, motherfucker! You know? He can't even say he's "gay" because there's no living man in the world willing to give him a chance to prove it! He's more like omni-sexual: he would fuck anything he can get his hands on. In either case... omni-rapist because I believe even the corpses would refuse.
So, the motherfucker fucked it up right when I'm having a krumggory... seizure. I need a fix of good NC-17 krumggory, but do I get it? Can I have some? No. There's some in the lj, but I can access it. I have seen "The Whole Chicken" in twenty different sites, and have pretty much read everything out there. And I mean EVERYTHING. I have spared nothing. Why is that? Because there's nothing. The only two writers I have read worthy in the krumggory scene are morning_hell and myself, and I'm disappointed a bit in morning_hell for the way she has lifted a few things from my fic "My Snyegurochka". Does nobody else likes Viktor and Cedric? I mean, I can understand people not liking Gilderoy Lockhart, you need vision to appreciate him, but two handsome, hot, young guys in a perfectly good, preppy age?
Fuck. I'm forced to write my own readings.
This is preposterous.
Yeah, and this time of the year, the loser asshole who yet again tried to pay a whore but was refused (and he probably sought out one of those really ugly, really desperate, half dead junky whores who would fuck a mouse for a fix), he tried to convince another loser and was turned down, tried to rape a child but the child in question couldn't stop laughing at the site of his dick, or asked: "and when you get better that thing will dry and fall off?", tried to get a doll but no one was willing to sell him one, well he decided he was going to fuck, one way or another, and so he fucked the internet access so everybody is as unhappy as he is. Man! Oh well, it lasts usually like... three-four weeks? He thinks he's all mighty... yeah... like a McDonald's employee. Sod off, motherfucker! You know? He can't even say he's "gay" because there's no living man in the world willing to give him a chance to prove it! He's more like omni-sexual: he would fuck anything he can get his hands on. In either case... omni-rapist because I believe even the corpses would refuse.
So, the motherfucker fucked it up right when I'm having a krumggory... seizure. I need a fix of good NC-17 krumggory, but do I get it? Can I have some? No. There's some in the lj, but I can access it. I have seen "The Whole Chicken" in twenty different sites, and have pretty much read everything out there. And I mean EVERYTHING. I have spared nothing. Why is that? Because there's nothing. The only two writers I have read worthy in the krumggory scene are morning_hell and myself, and I'm disappointed a bit in morning_hell for the way she has lifted a few things from my fic "My Snyegurochka". Does nobody else likes Viktor and Cedric? I mean, I can understand people not liking Gilderoy Lockhart, you need vision to appreciate him, but two handsome, hot, young guys in a perfectly good, preppy age?
Fuck. I'm forced to write my own readings.
This is preposterous.
Mar 26, 2008
In the Middle of Misery
Why is it that when you discover that you CAN’T access something, like your facebook, or your blog, you have the compulsive need to write into it? I tell you, it has been WEEKS since I last wrote, and now, as my friend Dragonfly told me at 06:30 hours that nor the Facebook, nor the Blogger was working because our genius technicians had, once again blocked them, I just had the compulsive desire to sit down and start pouring my heart into it. And what do I have to say, when I had said nothing for so long?
„You can take the Person out of the Krumggory, but You can't take the Krumggory out of the person. Something are meant to Stay.”
I wrote that into my message in the MSN. A coworker of mine asked me later:
„What’s ’krumggory’?”
What was I supposed to say? „It’s a word I made up to designate the pairing Viktor Krum/Cedric Diggory for those who read and write fiction depicting these two in some kind of sexual relationship, either stable or random. Naturally, since only I use it, the term is applied to fics were loads of exceedingly graphic sex happens. How exceedingly graphic? Let’s put it this way: it took me two chapters to depict sex between them... and it was only the first round out of four. Then again that’s nothing. Once I wrote a 27 page sex scene. (I always brag with that, but then again, who has ever beat me to that one?)” That would be unlikely, so I answered:
„It’s a word I made up.”
It’s true. It’s also the esence of how I communicate: I can’t tell the truth, but since I can’t lie either, I always talk in half words and half truths.
*
Cyn lend me a cd with music of Edith Piaf. I can't even start descrubing the feeling of that. I flew in the office singing aloud "La Foule", "Je Ne Regrette Rien", "Milord !", "La Vie en Rose" and many others. Her voice has something that pulls me and makes me want to cry crushed under the strong passion her songs hone inside me.
I love Edith Piaf.
Against my better judgement, I started writing a "proposal" for the sequel of "With Caution". Okay, it's called a "fanfic", which I had properly disclaimed. I signed it also with my fickie penname: Yami no Tsubasa. Caroll and I decided we both will write a proposal about what we thing should be the Rhys/Sterling relationship. Why? At least I don't want to wait until J.D. Langley finished the book, plus I'm positive I can write something better. It's coming out nice.
... the Krumggory IS taking over me. Really. Searching for fics again and rereading my stuff? Plotting new plots and PWPs? Oh dear... why am I so weak when it comes to hot, European blokes?
I love Edith Piaf.
*
Against my better judgement, I started writing a "proposal" for the sequel of "With Caution". Okay, it's called a "fanfic", which I had properly disclaimed. I signed it also with my fickie penname: Yami no Tsubasa. Caroll and I decided we both will write a proposal about what we thing should be the Rhys/Sterling relationship. Why? At least I don't want to wait until J.D. Langley finished the book, plus I'm positive I can write something better. It's coming out nice.
... the Krumggory IS taking over me. Really. Searching for fics again and rereading my stuff? Plotting new plots and PWPs? Oh dear... why am I so weak when it comes to hot, European blokes?
Mar 13, 2008
Sex Related Scandals as a Democrat Campaing Weapon
This is growing just a bit too suspitious. Before the candidate campaing, when Republicans and Democrats were scouting for votes to win the House elections, dirty Republican senators and lawmakers popped up by the dozen. Add to it, all of them were related to gay sex. Mark Foley, accused of seducing underage pages at the Hill, Richard Curtis accused of paying a male escort for sex (other versions say he just paid some regular bloke to have sex, or others that he simply seduced the man), and Larry Craig, who was detained by the police for requesting sex in a public bathroom from other men (the thing about rubbing the separation between the stals).
(In order: Mark Foley, Larry Craig, Richard Curtis.) All these came to light when the Democrats needed to win. And in each case, they did. Well, what does this tell you? That it is a proven and effective weapon to make your opponent fall. So why would you go into reasoning, trying to win the people with smart and duable proposals, and philosophy, political vision, when unveiling sex scandals is far more funny, easy and it doesn't compromise you? It would have been just a coincidence (for most people. Even as they went for Mr. Foley, I smelled a scheme, but with Mr. Craig it was crystal clear.), but when they slam down on Ms. Clinton's right hand man, Governor Elit Spitzer, it is too much. Well, at least we can narrow down now where the "Mastermind" of this winning formula might be. Search among Mr. Obama's people. It does come to my attention how they have not picked a gay man this time to satanize the party, but rather just some poor fellow seeking for the services of a whore. Could it be because they don't wish to scat the Democrat party's image that much, or because it was just so beautiful to use a sex scandal to say: "You all say one thing and do the opposite". Either way it was low and they should really start considering what they are doing. These are today's Canuck Letters, and they are not fun. (Canuck Letter: a bogus letter sent back in the seventies, allegedly written by Sen.Edmund Muskie (Dem.) where he shows prejudice against French-Canadians. The letter was part of a White House operation, then under Republican controll.)What's the deal? Well, Gov. Spitzer was promoting a law to fight prostitution penalizing the men who sought out the prostitutes. Funny thing, as you read the articles on the case, it is a matter worked out by Feminist Groups which seek to protect women from sexual exploitation. Question: what about men? They can be exploited? What about men who seek male escorts for some paid sex? That's okay? I admit I do not know details of this law, more than what the papers have published, but so far, the prostitute is seen as a victim rather than a partner in crime, because "she has been forced into the business". Well, what about women who like it? What about women who want to do it? There are cases, plenty of them where women chose this path because it is easy money. Prostitution takes form in many ways that go from the poor person (male or female, underage or legal) who stands in a corner selling his or her body, all the way to the golddiggers who offer their body and company to people with the means to give them expensive gifts. Of course, these golddiggers call it love or their "right to seek a better life". lets come clear with this right now: sex for any kind of material gratification is prostitution! Money, jewels, cars, furs, clothes, trips, houses, a promotion, a bigger office, a job, a grade... these are all ways of paying sex, these all turn sex into prostitution. People offering or agreeing into this kind of exchage, giving sex for them are soliciting.
Are they victims? Yes, in some cases, but not in others. Assuming by default that they are victims is a mistake. Now, let's do a little fight for Equity of Gender. Perhaps this will come as a shock for the world, but men are also prostitutes. Yes. Men also sell their bodies for money. They sell it to men and women, mostly men since allegedly men are more into hiring whores than women. (It is not part of our culture.) Anyway, it would be nice for once that these humanitarian groups, particularly the feminist groups, would start showing some consideration towards men too. Why is everything always about women and women and women and no one stops five minutes to consider men and how we are not letting them be equal to us? Why do we have to absorb all they do, but we don't let them get to the things we have enjoyed, or the things we have done?
A friend of mine was complaing a little while ago about how uncivilized and unpolite we are becoming (okay mostly "they", you know the case), and told about not holding doors and pulling out chairs. Yes, indeed it is nice to be treated like that, but if we are fighting for equity, and I do mean EQUITY and not only "now it is time for women to get to boss", then why don't WE pull out chairs for our male companions and hold doors for them? Because that would make them feel weak and "feminine"? Because you only hold doors and pull out chairs for the weaker, fragile and helpless "women-creatures"? Oh yes, women are the victims of prostitution. And what about men? And what about the circumstances of men who seek prostitutes? Why do they feel compelled to pay for sex when us women can perfectly well live without ever paying for a fuck?
Truth is we are living still in a hypocritic world. Now you would hardly dare to question the equity of the sexes, or say that something is not for "women", or you'll risk something from a heavy purse repeatedly smacked againt your head to a law suit, and probably both of them. But at the same time, MEN are not considered in the least equal to women, because they HAVE to give up their chairs, get all uncomfortable, please us, serve us, play for us, and all for what? Because we have the babies. What about those of us who do not plan to have kids? It doesn't matter, we could, so we are entitled to get our share of male servitude. Well, in face of these things, I do understand that they wish to keep a few of their old prerrogatives such as do no home chores . But what do they get? Our bitching. They say: "You don't cook like my Mom", but we say "That's not how I told you to clean up? Are you mental? Can't you do it right?". Honey, poor guy needs practice, and he won't feel like doing shit if you keep telling him that all he does is wrooooong, and when he finally gets it right your compliment goes in the line of "About time! It sure took you long to get it!". Please bitches! Let the poor dude breathe!
So, we get their jobs, we FORCE a legislation where at least 40% of the "Power" (management and such) jobs and Government positions must be filled by women. And if we get 90% women? Oh that's okay. No men? Well, at least we fulfilled the 40%, right? What would happen if a law is passed where there should be at least a 60-40 of men and women? Outrage! What if that one position could be filled by a smart woman but has to be given to a man to keep the 60-40!? But it is perfectly okay if it happens the other way. If a man is caught with a female hooker he gets to jail and she gets help and social support. If a man is caught with a male whore would it be the same or we will just slam both motherfuckers into jail?
Feminism has long been corrupted when it stopped being about equal rights and equal oportunities and equal consideration and it has become about teaching men who is the Daddy now.
Mar 11, 2008
Start The Day Blocking Away The Ottoman Invasion
Again... another jackass.
"Sorry IF I was too rude". Noooooo! What would ever make you think that? Well, at least I was ... polite? Well, I did apologize at the end! Besides, the motherfucker had it coming? What in the fucking hell makes him think he can send that kind of messagest to people? he so had it comming. Specially loved the part where I sent him to Google Earth the road to my heart. Hahahahahahahahaha! You gara admit that was brilliant! Sure the asshole would stop using that same line, though if he doesn't, I hope other women slap him back with simething clever and mean. Tukish, Egyptian... is this heat season? Well, I had to tighten my security and now I have forbidden everybody from writing to me. I mean, I fucking had some fucking asshole writing to me "hi, plzz add me". Oh Geez, sure man! Right away! Oky-Doky! What are they thinking?
szia
Mehmet Suhan Ilhan:
sziaa Zs. hogy vagy? is it so late to meet for me such a beauty lady like you? isnt there any map which show me the way of your heart? :))
or just let me say hi to you :))
i think you are the only one who can open my locked heart and make me fall in love:) you looks great
hope to see you soon
memosMe:
Hi,
Does that line actually work on someone? Is it late? It wasn't, but the admission is with invitation only. As for the map of my heart, why don't you just Google Earth it? If I'm the only one who can open your locked heart, dude your heart was sentenced to life. Kiss it good-bye. Make you fall in love? Okay, this is when I start laughing, right? Thanks for telling me I look great. I don't have a mirror at home to see that for myself.
Look, sorry I was rude, but you are the n-th stranger sending me messages like this and I just don't like it. I am not interested in relationships. I can go for a friendship but even that takes time with me. I'm old, I'm not a gullible chick, and don't swallow lines and common places. Sorry, really, but this part of Hungary won't be invaded by the Ottomans.
Better luck with someone else, and please excuse me if I was too rude.
Kind Regards, Zs.
"Sorry IF I was too rude". Noooooo! What would ever make you think that? Well, at least I was ... polite? Well, I did apologize at the end! Besides, the motherfucker had it coming? What in the fucking hell makes him think he can send that kind of messagest to people? he so had it comming. Specially loved the part where I sent him to Google Earth the road to my heart. Hahahahahahahahaha! You gara admit that was brilliant! Sure the asshole would stop using that same line, though if he doesn't, I hope other women slap him back with simething clever and mean. Tukish, Egyptian... is this heat season? Well, I had to tighten my security and now I have forbidden everybody from writing to me. I mean, I fucking had some fucking asshole writing to me "hi, plzz add me". Oh Geez, sure man! Right away! Oky-Doky! What are they thinking?
Mar 10, 2008
Blocking
This is outrageous. Only today I had to block three profiles out of my Facebook. First there was this absolute asshole from Toronto, some emigrated Hungarian loser who was pushing and pushing for me to friend him. You know, the typical "the more friends I have in my list the cooler I am" kind of LOSER we all hate. The fucker already has like... 400 "friends" and was pushing and pushing for me to accept him (if I don't friend him back, he doesn't get "the point" for me). Well, I don't outcast people at first glance, unless I can tell at first glance that they are a pain in the ass. So, I had no idea who his asshole was (who by the way started with a line like "you will be greatly benefitted if you ad me to your friend's list). He alleged he had read my profile and so he could see we are alike.
(...)
Okay, I have my profile blocked. People only see like... my photo and my name. And that's it. So, how in the fucking hell can he tell we are alike? The ASSHOLE doesn't put his picture (sure he's BUTT-UGLY, or like Carrie says, he's FUCKGLY), doesn't use his real name and doesn't put any real data. Oh, but 15 years ago he found the truth. Okay, I'll try and exercise the "Empathic Listening" from the 7-Fucking-Habits (Eric isn't reading this, right?), and so I gave him a chance. "So, tell me a little bit about you?". I assumed he has seen me through the Hungarian Network, and through it from the group "You Know You Are Hungarian When...", which is the most clever and cool group in the whole universe. Well, I believed he knew it and so I added to the message a "joke question". Specifically: "What have you read? Bulgakov? ^_^" Why is it a joke question? For this:
Deducing him an unstable character prone to outbursts of violence, I blocked him. I mean, I was sharp, direct and contundent with him, but all in all, I was polite (well, within the paramethers. I never called him an asshole in his face... just told him to wake up and smell the coffee.) Well, he did came back through another profile mixing obsenities in Hungarian with shit in English. Needless to say I blocked that profile too and ran to report him and his message. It was the right thing to do. Okay, I also posted on the Hungarian network for everybody to be aware that he is agressive and ill intentioned. People answered at it. ^_^
So, there go two profiles. Prior to that asshole the only one I had blocked was this troubled girl, Maria José, whom I had the misfortunate luck to meet a few years ago, and who developed and ill obbsession with me. So, in order to stay clean from her comments and prohibit her from seeing my profile, I blocked her. Well, today some Egyptian loser sent me a message that he's in love with this Hungarian girl and he needs advise about out traditions and he "loves me and misses me". Oh man!!! I sent him a polite but dry message telling him that his message was incomprenhensible and intrusive. He shouldn't be asking such personal advises from complete strangers, nor address them so informally (letegezett!!), or display such personal feelings. That he should do better seeking the advise of a friend. Naturally, I immediatelly blocked him.
What's wrong with this people???
I guess it's time to tighten my filters even more. I have met cool people, like Ana Kuka from Portugal (her name in Hungarian is just too funny!!), and Viktória Helga, but does it worth it when there are such assholes out there?
(...)
Okay, I have my profile blocked. People only see like... my photo and my name. And that's it. So, how in the fucking hell can he tell we are alike? The ASSHOLE doesn't put his picture (sure he's BUTT-UGLY, or like Carrie says, he's FUCKGLY), doesn't use his real name and doesn't put any real data. Oh, but 15 years ago he found the truth. Okay, I'll try and exercise the "Empathic Listening" from the 7-Fucking-Habits (Eric isn't reading this, right?), and so I gave him a chance. "So, tell me a little bit about you?". I assumed he has seen me through the Hungarian Network, and through it from the group "You Know You Are Hungarian When...", which is the most clever and cool group in the whole universe. Well, I believed he knew it and so I added to the message a "joke question". Specifically: "What have you read? Bulgakov? ^_^" Why is it a joke question? For this:
47. When you are snobby and think that anyone who has not read Dostoyewski and Bulgakow is not an intelligent human being.^_^ Now you see the joke. Well, ASSHOLE didn't, so he counter attacked saying: "It doesn't matter how many books have you read, but WHAT you read". Okay, how does my question turns into a question of qualtity? (Maybe asshole doesn't speak English or Hungarian well...) So I explained him. "It was meant as a joke, you know, from the list at the group?" He kept on and on with "if I want to know what has he read, I should check on his profile (two non descriptive authors...). Add to it he had been pushing this shit about "fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity" and "love is loyalty and commitment" and some third shit. So I was trying to tell him, that, well, things ain't like that, because you can fight for peace, peace doesn't just appear, you have to earn it, add to it, peace without independence is not real peace. Not for me, at least. And then, love is freedom otherwise it's emotional slavery. So I was fed up. I explaned him my point of view one last time and then explained in big, capital letter that "IT WAS A JOKE!! A JOKE!!" the thing about the reading. I told him that I have enough pressure at my work for me to take on Internet discussions with stragers, that I see things are not taking us anywhere, so better stop it, I won't friend him.
Deducing him an unstable character prone to outbursts of violence, I blocked him. I mean, I was sharp, direct and contundent with him, but all in all, I was polite (well, within the paramethers. I never called him an asshole in his face... just told him to wake up and smell the coffee.) Well, he did came back through another profile mixing obsenities in Hungarian with shit in English. Needless to say I blocked that profile too and ran to report him and his message. It was the right thing to do. Okay, I also posted on the Hungarian network for everybody to be aware that he is agressive and ill intentioned. People answered at it. ^_^
So, there go two profiles. Prior to that asshole the only one I had blocked was this troubled girl, Maria José, whom I had the misfortunate luck to meet a few years ago, and who developed and ill obbsession with me. So, in order to stay clean from her comments and prohibit her from seeing my profile, I blocked her. Well, today some Egyptian loser sent me a message that he's in love with this Hungarian girl and he needs advise about out traditions and he "loves me and misses me". Oh man!!! I sent him a polite but dry message telling him that his message was incomprenhensible and intrusive. He shouldn't be asking such personal advises from complete strangers, nor address them so informally (letegezett!!), or display such personal feelings. That he should do better seeking the advise of a friend. Naturally, I immediatelly blocked him.
What's wrong with this people???
I guess it's time to tighten my filters even more. I have met cool people, like Ana Kuka from Portugal (her name in Hungarian is just too funny!!), and Viktória Helga, but does it worth it when there are such assholes out there?
Mar 4, 2008
Pheromones in the Air
Let's just lay off a few odd things. It was kind of uncomfortable to get "instant karma" yesterday as I was made talk to Eric. Ouch... talk about awkward. Why? Well, try this:
"Worry not! I'm out of bad things to say!"
Oh well, FC has absolutely nothing else to offer me. They won't surrender the stuff I want, and what they can offer is either too catchy for my liking or just more of the "Stephen Covey's Church" shit. So, that's out of my scope. Hopefully the "Liljenstople file" will also be closed with this. Still yesterday some things kelt falling into place about Friday night, things that are just too complicated and too "sitcom-like" for me to enjoy. For the fucking shit, really, how in the fucking hell do men fucking dare to fucking say women can't speak directly? Thez speak in fucking RIDDLES!!! The ACT in fucking RIDDLES!!! How in the fucking HELL am I to fucking know what the FUCK do they fucking want? Do people actually get satisfied with random teasing and pointless dalliances? I know I do it for evil purposes, to exercise my control upon other, but --- oh. Um. Fuck. Good one. Could have been better, though. It is stupid to exercise your capabilities on a subject you can't measure.
Through the day-- how can I express this properly. Yesterday I had been often reassured of one thing: I'm beautiful. Over and over I had it pointed out, and I don't mean the cat-calling men do to random hotties on the street, I mean men I know let me know on one way or another that, yes, I'm a looker. Usually I take these comments in the bad way. It takes a very talented man to make me appreciate a comment about my looks or my brain. Sorry "you are a beautiful woman" leaves me cold. "Would you like to comment some other feature of mine? Such as 'you have five fingers in each hand'?". However, yesterday I was surprised by the amount of times I was told, and the way it was said and the people who said it. They were all men from whom I absolutely didn't expect it. Oh, I see where this is going: what was I wearing? Opaque black stockings, black skirt, black vest and tiny floral printed shirt. I looked preppy. But it wasn't the clothing, because similar things had been happening, and it isn't either just me overproducing pheromones, because I've been receiving comments from across the ocean.
I think it is the weather and it is raining men.
^_^ Well, no, seriously. It seems to me it answers to this general "pack behavior" I suspect people have. Have you ever noticed that you can spend seasons with no approaches from the opposite sex (I have no idea if it works the same way withthe same sex), perhaps with one "kill" here and another there, and then, periodically, they start to rain on you. The guy yho has never said a word to you, that you thought was the less interested subject, makes the comment "you are that kind of attractive woman, who can have anyone she wants. It's difficult to approach you.". Or one I received recently "I'm one of the Super Friends. I'm the Hollow Man because nobody sees me. Unlike you. You get constantly noticed". Yes, it was meant "looks-wise". The stare at your clivage... and I'm a flat chested woman, the stare at your legs with such an obsessive intensity you know it's making him feel even more awkward than you feel, as if you were some sort of highly addictive drug. The sudden stop or confusion in the guy's line of thought when you do the slightest movement, and either he saw something fascinating like a bit deeper down your clivage or more skin on your back, or a little bit more of leg, or an expression in your face... and he has to "reset" his mind because the groin-system took over for a moment.
This brough to my mind a question: do men are sensitive to scents? I know we women are, or at least I am to a very ridiculous level, where you become primal about a scent. It is outrageous to admit it, but, yes, it is like in the AXE advertizing: the right scent can make you wild. There is something about men wearing certain scents, that want to make you cling to his neck and inhale him, but if you do, the more you spend inhaling the scent, the wilder you get, until you are getting wet with all kinds of wicked thoughts. You want to lick him, suck him, fill your cheeks with his flesh and feel the alcoholic, burning, hot esence of the scent against your soft, wet part. (inside your mouth, thank you.)
Does this happen to men, or they are only visual?
- Step One: You think he's fake and a joke.
- Step Two: You tell him he's fake, religious-like maniac about "Dr. Covey" and a "formula person".
- Step Three: the pretty much only time when he does talk about himself and what he does and what he likes you laugh at him and lable what he holds good and pure as an act of selfish god-complex, paired with a comment hinting that there's no behavior in the world more unspeakable and low as that.
- Step Four: he pays your beer and your Don Julio tequila, which has already made him swallow hard. (Okay, he offered, but I might just abused of his offer...)
- Step Five: after he even drove you to the bus stop, kissed you in the cheek and inspite of all the ill comments YOU made there was some laughing, all it comes to your mind is send him an SMS telling him "it was great" and that you are "sorry IF you made him feel awkward"?
"Worry not! I'm out of bad things to say!"
Oh well, FC has absolutely nothing else to offer me. They won't surrender the stuff I want, and what they can offer is either too catchy for my liking or just more of the "Stephen Covey's Church" shit. So, that's out of my scope. Hopefully the "Liljenstople file" will also be closed with this. Still yesterday some things kelt falling into place about Friday night, things that are just too complicated and too "sitcom-like" for me to enjoy. For the fucking shit, really, how in the fucking hell do men fucking dare to fucking say women can't speak directly? Thez speak in fucking RIDDLES!!! The ACT in fucking RIDDLES!!! How in the fucking HELL am I to fucking know what the FUCK do they fucking want? Do people actually get satisfied with random teasing and pointless dalliances? I know I do it for evil purposes, to exercise my control upon other, but --- oh. Um. Fuck. Good one. Could have been better, though. It is stupid to exercise your capabilities on a subject you can't measure.
Through the day-- how can I express this properly. Yesterday I had been often reassured of one thing: I'm beautiful. Over and over I had it pointed out, and I don't mean the cat-calling men do to random hotties on the street, I mean men I know let me know on one way or another that, yes, I'm a looker. Usually I take these comments in the bad way. It takes a very talented man to make me appreciate a comment about my looks or my brain. Sorry "you are a beautiful woman" leaves me cold. "Would you like to comment some other feature of mine? Such as 'you have five fingers in each hand'?". However, yesterday I was surprised by the amount of times I was told, and the way it was said and the people who said it. They were all men from whom I absolutely didn't expect it. Oh, I see where this is going: what was I wearing? Opaque black stockings, black skirt, black vest and tiny floral printed shirt. I looked preppy. But it wasn't the clothing, because similar things had been happening, and it isn't either just me overproducing pheromones, because I've been receiving comments from across the ocean.
I think it is the weather and it is raining men.
^_^ Well, no, seriously. It seems to me it answers to this general "pack behavior" I suspect people have. Have you ever noticed that you can spend seasons with no approaches from the opposite sex (I have no idea if it works the same way withthe same sex), perhaps with one "kill" here and another there, and then, periodically, they start to rain on you. The guy yho has never said a word to you, that you thought was the less interested subject, makes the comment "you are that kind of attractive woman, who can have anyone she wants. It's difficult to approach you.". Or one I received recently "I'm one of the Super Friends. I'm the Hollow Man because nobody sees me. Unlike you. You get constantly noticed". Yes, it was meant "looks-wise". The stare at your clivage... and I'm a flat chested woman, the stare at your legs with such an obsessive intensity you know it's making him feel even more awkward than you feel, as if you were some sort of highly addictive drug. The sudden stop or confusion in the guy's line of thought when you do the slightest movement, and either he saw something fascinating like a bit deeper down your clivage or more skin on your back, or a little bit more of leg, or an expression in your face... and he has to "reset" his mind because the groin-system took over for a moment.
This brough to my mind a question: do men are sensitive to scents? I know we women are, or at least I am to a very ridiculous level, where you become primal about a scent. It is outrageous to admit it, but, yes, it is like in the AXE advertizing: the right scent can make you wild. There is something about men wearing certain scents, that want to make you cling to his neck and inhale him, but if you do, the more you spend inhaling the scent, the wilder you get, until you are getting wet with all kinds of wicked thoughts. You want to lick him, suck him, fill your cheeks with his flesh and feel the alcoholic, burning, hot esence of the scent against your soft, wet part. (inside your mouth, thank you.)
Does this happen to men, or they are only visual?
Mar 2, 2008
The Truth of Society is Bigger than the Market
On Friday I finished a workshop about the "7 Habits of Highly Effective People" -- Manager's version. No, I am not a manager, as you all know that, but my boss thought it would be a nice seminar for me to take. He said it could help me organize my time, if I wanted to. I agreed out of "what the hell". Would I not been so stressed, I would have considered the workshop an absolute waste of my time, but this way I took it as nice vacations. As it was, I walked expecting a load of shit served in a nice hotel, with no access to Internet, but thankfully some chance to write my journal or read Némirovsky under the table. Then, the following things stood out:
- The consultor/expositor was some American guy from California with a really strong accent and a terrible grammar. He's tall and has a very nice body, clad very nicely, perfect preppy "Trunks"-like haircut and nice eyebrows. However he's as fake as a three dollar bill, full with the 7 Habits shit, which he can't let go and uses as his magic formula for everything. It's his shield and his worktool, both of them locking away whatever real "Eric" (that's his name) into the depths of a person consumed by a job where he probably needs constant reassurance that what he's doing is what he really wants to do.
- Fabricio, a self-procclaimed "Italian" with deep rings around his eyes, short and so desperate to become a clon of Eric, he seemed to me as gay as it comes. and add to it, a desperate bottom crying out for Eric The Master's attention. It was so pathetic the way he ran to comply with each suggestion and "homework" the American gave. Really... for someone posing as a leader, he's such a pussy it's ridiculous.
- Cristiane Alkim, the Brazilian economist chick. Smoking hot, great body, blonde and smart, until you find out that she's an obsessive person who speaks so much and so fast he cuts your windpipes with talk. Rather irrational, as the only thing she is willing to hear is her self, she's a lot like me, and that made me think: am I also that asphixiating? I could be and that worries me.
- A bunch of stupid managers who really thing that paying the workshop and sitting in there already downloads into them the Escence of Sucess and Effectiveness, and from now on they will be super-managers because now they the "Stephen Covey" power in them.
- Thomas Saccone, a French man who impressed me.
I didn't learn much from the workshop, but I learned fron the people. I learned from Cristiane what I look like, what am I achieving with my aggresiveness and my forcing of my point of view. The first day I was convinced Eric wanted to fuck Cristiane, and I was pretty sure she was interested too, but then... well, I don't know, but it sure didn't look like that the next day. On Friday Eric paid the drinks of the people who would stay after the seminar was done. Surpeinsingly, a lot of people was gone quickly, as if they would have been waiting desperately for the chace to escape. Well, it says much of Eric's work, right. People stayed then for the promised beer, the ten of us, and then, in less than two hours, everybody was gone. I wanted to stay because I had nothing to do, and so Eric and I stayed for like two more hours until 21-21:30 or so. He seemed more relaxed then, though he never undid his tie. He move to full English mode and we talked a lot of things, me sharing more info than what he did, all about personal things, personal believes, and then my trademark inciscive remarks like: "You strike me like someone as fake as a $3 when you talk at the workshop, save when you are fanatically speaking of Mentor Dr. Covey... really Alternative Church-like. Then you follow formulas so much, fuck! You pretend to be polite but ignore the people you are speaking with?" And this was the soft-core stuff. The hardball came when he told me he loved working with a student exchange program because it gave him a fulfillment feeling, and I told him it was selfich bullshit and that program only stroke his god-complex.
I've got my own share that ranged from "people-user" to "superiority complex" all the way to "You are a very attractive woman, but your cinicism makes people stay away.... then again, your openness, your attitude towards sex makes you again attractive."
It was a nice chat and it was nice to hear him laught. We talked about his girlfriend and he asked me about my time of man, then he drove me to the bus station and kissed my cheek so soundly, his face so pressed to my face, it was as if he would have almost Frenched me. It was odd as well that, him being American, said good-bye to me with a "Bon nuit". French get to me, but did I mentioned it to him? I'm sure I didn't. I only say to him that my type of man was the European one, and that nothing meant ... oh.
I told him how it broke me down and how it got to me when a guy shared something with me such as a quote from Sartre or his own broken attempt to translate a part of Lermontov's poetry to me.
Like in most series, sexual tension was high there, but it never came resolved. Either he was too involved with his girlfriend and affraid of trying something new, or my cinicism scared the hell out of him and so he decided to decline. Me? Well, I was in for the "free ride": good if it happened, and fine if not. Too bad Thomas didn't came the second day, though. That would be something.
You see, something that I have learned, and not now but for some years now, is that men should not be chased, should not be sought, but you must let them come by. See something nice, reach for it, but don't run into the wild with the idea of hunting down someone. The moment you see a man, without looking for one, you can take him in as he is, with his humanity, his shields and the guy itself, withouth the added filters your eyes could add up, such as "make it a man", and the see only the gender. Men are beautiful because they are more than a gender, a dick that hangs with his balls between his legs and hardens at the rights stimulation. Men are also the smile, the smirk, the narrowing of eyes and the sparkle in the corner of their beautiful, colourful, rich eyes. They are the arms goind behing the head with locked fingers to hoist the head and show off their hard earned biceps. They are the focusing eyes, that see nothing but the concept in their minds, their soft voice as they slowly speak out their minds, as they unwrap their beautiful feelings, as they let out the simple and gorgeous threading of thoughts, wishes and emotions. You must let them come, appear in your life and happen and then, like flowers in the wild, birds in the forest, you reach out for them or let them come close, like the beautiful deers and stags they are, and enjoy themmm within their freedom, never take them home, never change them, never domesticate them, but let them be, as beautiful as they are.
I am happy there are men in the world.
- The consultor/expositor was some American guy from California with a really strong accent and a terrible grammar. He's tall and has a very nice body, clad very nicely, perfect preppy "Trunks"-like haircut and nice eyebrows. However he's as fake as a three dollar bill, full with the 7 Habits shit, which he can't let go and uses as his magic formula for everything. It's his shield and his worktool, both of them locking away whatever real "Eric" (that's his name) into the depths of a person consumed by a job where he probably needs constant reassurance that what he's doing is what he really wants to do.
- Fabricio, a self-procclaimed "Italian" with deep rings around his eyes, short and so desperate to become a clon of Eric, he seemed to me as gay as it comes. and add to it, a desperate bottom crying out for Eric The Master's attention. It was so pathetic the way he ran to comply with each suggestion and "homework" the American gave. Really... for someone posing as a leader, he's such a pussy it's ridiculous.
- Cristiane Alkim, the Brazilian economist chick. Smoking hot, great body, blonde and smart, until you find out that she's an obsessive person who speaks so much and so fast he cuts your windpipes with talk. Rather irrational, as the only thing she is willing to hear is her self, she's a lot like me, and that made me think: am I also that asphixiating? I could be and that worries me.
- A bunch of stupid managers who really thing that paying the workshop and sitting in there already downloads into them the Escence of Sucess and Effectiveness, and from now on they will be super-managers because now they the "Stephen Covey" power in them.
- Thomas Saccone, a French man who impressed me.
I didn't learn much from the workshop, but I learned fron the people. I learned from Cristiane what I look like, what am I achieving with my aggresiveness and my forcing of my point of view. The first day I was convinced Eric wanted to fuck Cristiane, and I was pretty sure she was interested too, but then... well, I don't know, but it sure didn't look like that the next day. On Friday Eric paid the drinks of the people who would stay after the seminar was done. Surpeinsingly, a lot of people was gone quickly, as if they would have been waiting desperately for the chace to escape. Well, it says much of Eric's work, right. People stayed then for the promised beer, the ten of us, and then, in less than two hours, everybody was gone. I wanted to stay because I had nothing to do, and so Eric and I stayed for like two more hours until 21-21:30 or so. He seemed more relaxed then, though he never undid his tie. He move to full English mode and we talked a lot of things, me sharing more info than what he did, all about personal things, personal believes, and then my trademark inciscive remarks like: "You strike me like someone as fake as a $3 when you talk at the workshop, save when you are fanatically speaking of Mentor Dr. Covey... really Alternative Church-like. Then you follow formulas so much, fuck! You pretend to be polite but ignore the people you are speaking with?" And this was the soft-core stuff. The hardball came when he told me he loved working with a student exchange program because it gave him a fulfillment feeling, and I told him it was selfich bullshit and that program only stroke his god-complex.
I've got my own share that ranged from "people-user" to "superiority complex" all the way to "You are a very attractive woman, but your cinicism makes people stay away.... then again, your openness, your attitude towards sex makes you again attractive."
It was a nice chat and it was nice to hear him laught. We talked about his girlfriend and he asked me about my time of man, then he drove me to the bus station and kissed my cheek so soundly, his face so pressed to my face, it was as if he would have almost Frenched me. It was odd as well that, him being American, said good-bye to me with a "Bon nuit". French get to me, but did I mentioned it to him? I'm sure I didn't. I only say to him that my type of man was the European one, and that nothing meant ... oh.
I told him how it broke me down and how it got to me when a guy shared something with me such as a quote from Sartre or his own broken attempt to translate a part of Lermontov's poetry to me.
Like in most series, sexual tension was high there, but it never came resolved. Either he was too involved with his girlfriend and affraid of trying something new, or my cinicism scared the hell out of him and so he decided to decline. Me? Well, I was in for the "free ride": good if it happened, and fine if not. Too bad Thomas didn't came the second day, though. That would be something.
You see, something that I have learned, and not now but for some years now, is that men should not be chased, should not be sought, but you must let them come by. See something nice, reach for it, but don't run into the wild with the idea of hunting down someone. The moment you see a man, without looking for one, you can take him in as he is, with his humanity, his shields and the guy itself, withouth the added filters your eyes could add up, such as "make it a man", and the see only the gender. Men are beautiful because they are more than a gender, a dick that hangs with his balls between his legs and hardens at the rights stimulation. Men are also the smile, the smirk, the narrowing of eyes and the sparkle in the corner of their beautiful, colourful, rich eyes. They are the arms goind behing the head with locked fingers to hoist the head and show off their hard earned biceps. They are the focusing eyes, that see nothing but the concept in their minds, their soft voice as they slowly speak out their minds, as they unwrap their beautiful feelings, as they let out the simple and gorgeous threading of thoughts, wishes and emotions. You must let them come, appear in your life and happen and then, like flowers in the wild, birds in the forest, you reach out for them or let them come close, like the beautiful deers and stags they are, and enjoy themmm within their freedom, never take them home, never change them, never domesticate them, but let them be, as beautiful as they are.
I am happy there are men in the world.
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