TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR QAF

This will be short.

I'll be gone for a while, unless I write from the office, because I'll be dedicating all my free and not so free time to see Queer As Folk.

I went with Carrie to this place in my fave Mall, where I found, protected, defended, (okay, more like I saw and hijacked) and bought a case with ALL THE FIVE SEASONS OF QUEER AS FOLK. So, until I don't finish with the 79- uh? of the case, guess what will I be doing? Yep, I'll be watching episode after episode of QaF.

So, don't wait up for me. ^_^

Unfortunatelly, the one suffering the most will be my Facebook account, since I can't access it from here. I'll do my best to ... give it some maintenance between DVD and DVD.

Oh, and just another thing? I used to dislike Michael very much, but ever since I saw him in drag, and fuck if he makes one hot bitch, I love him. ^_^

Benetton Again

So, maybe I'm "residually depressed". Only that could explain yesterday. Now, "residually depressed" is not a clinical term, but I would like to propose it as a way to refer to when you are getting out of a depression and you are feeling better, yet you have certain "typical depressed" behavior patterns still going on. Residually, of course. Well, then again I could be depressed because I have been trying again to find some Viktor/Cedric fiction with no avail. But could that be the cause for slamming it at a Benetton. Not like I don't totally deserve those skirts and that dress, but DAMNED, ain't even my birthday and I broke my last standing spending record?

No, that's not the dress, but I'll be making sure to get my hands on it, even if I have to blackmail the salesgirls and the store manager to get me one. Love the colors, just love the faded, dull, smokey colors it has. It opposes to "perky" and "happy" with a distinctive urban dismissiveness and cold, but polite brutality. Soft in fabric, as soft is every human being, but dressing up the colors of a cold indifferent atitude, which is the urban, metropolitan, city-atitude that brands us all.

I have here a post-it with a quote from a friend of mine, Shimmy.

"There's nothing worse that trying to be cool without a sense of style."

Clothes, not unexpensive clothes, remind me always of certain people I've had the distinctive displeasure of meeting at one time or another of my life. The fashion victims. These people rush into getting this or that and be always "in", depending on the fleeting, money-pushed, clueless pointers sprayed around by fashion rag magazines, as if their entire sense of self depended on what to wear. Which colors are in, which accesories are in, which designers and designs are in. So I've been agains the balloon style and found it terribly hideous? Yes I did. Put a balloon dress on a stick-like model and I'll hate it each time. And then again, just take a look. Overly puffy clothes wrapped around wire-thin legs make the models look like a badly wrapped lollipop.

The balloon-style was not my cuppa until yesterday I stumbled across this soft, legére cotton skirt designed by Benetton. Fairly short, may I say, since it reaches to my mid thighs, yet incredibly comfortable. I tried it out just for the fun of it, and seeing it on me, feeling it I loved it immediatelly. I guess I only had to wait for it to be right, to grow on me naturally. It's a process that takes time, yet not always happens. Like a piece of a puzzle, if it is a fit for you, you will accept it, otherwise, keep on hating it. However, lots of people put things on because they are in, because they thing they must validate themselves and become socially acceptable by being fashion fiends. Hey, put some thought in it, would you?

Some people are no more than hangers.

The Real Cost of Driving

Today I'll share with you a few thoughts about a very serious topic. As usual, these things come from me reading the newspapers. I know, a shameful habit. Should grow out of it, right? Reading newspapers, no matter how biased and filtered they are, how the facts are tampered and the effects diluted and minimized, so we all let out politicians fuck our living conditions far beyond our wildest dreams, well, it's not a good practice. People should read... well, actually they shouldn't read at all. Celebrities and Reality Shows should be people's only concerns.

Yesterday, reading the Népszabadság Online, which I don't read as often as perhaps I should, I was shocked by an article stating that food prices would be growing some 12% to 13% next year... in addition to what it has already grown. I read the article, and really, it was talking only about poultry and pork. But it was "fine, because 20% of the consumers prefer imported, more expensive meats anyways". This all due to the Avian Flu. Question: forget my utter stupidity, but how does the Avian Flu affect the pigs? Pigs finally fly in Hungary? Surprisingly, local specialists argued, that it wasn't so bad, because an increase of 12 to 13% on food prices would only affect the inflation 3 percentual points. Then the article went out of the way talking about the producers and how it was so very hard for them, and how they were getting broke because Hungary can't put up with the EU standards of "no animal cruelty" (it seems Hungarians like their food well tortured, well killed, well cooked), then there was no way that given the current market tools producers could... blah, blah, blah... At one point there was a tiny glimpse of something: people don't care for higher quality, but for the price of the food. Why? Well, try being kinda like "poor" and having to "eat". Need food, have little money, what do you do? Buy what you can afford. In the mean time, the producers are getting broke, so more people becoming poor, more people trying to buy cheap food.

But this is Hungary, and Hungary is Schengen Space, EU country, right? Well, today my attention was caught by another article, this time in the Washington Post. The title of the article is "Food Crisis Is Depicted As 'Silent Tsunami'". Not something that would make many go read it, yet I kinda stranded there. I won't quote the entire thing, though I would like to, because I have no publishing or republishing permision, but there are a few things that I would like to bring to your attention. "Food Crisis" is a phenomenon happening around the world. You can feel it harsher in poor countries, and yet is actually something happening world wide. The price of food is growing out of proportion to the point where people can't buy food with their daily earning. There's people making US$0,50 a day, and want to know something else. It's not in that article, but it's in many others: many of those who make $0,50 a day or even less, are children. Kids taken out of school to go work and support their families. Oh yes, in real life, those two quarters don't go to one person, but more than one, many maybe, and there comes a point where the saying "where one eats, two eat too" is no longer appliable.

20,000,0000 children starving.

A child dies every five seconds for causes related to hunger.

There are many causes for this "food crisis" and many scenarios. Some countries do not produce food at all, and are completely dependant of importations. In other countries there is food, but people can't buy it because they have no money. In other cases the farmers grow less crops because they don't have enough money to grow more, and they are not subject to loans. What is happening here? Well, people don't have jobs or they have jobs but they are not being paid enough. People are not given the chance to educate themselves and their kids to ensure a better lifestyle, and then, the means of production and the food itself is cut. Thomas Malthus said in his book that there would come the time when the land would not produce enough to feed the world and so mankind would know its end. Ironically, we have not reached that point, but rather our greedy ways and our pitiful resource and need prioritizing is pushing us to teh verge of the extintion. Because, to add to the "food crisis" factors such as the oil prices and the biofuel are having a bad influence on it. Rising oil prices keep farmers from the fuel to make their tractors and machines work, so they produce less, but then when you take part of the grains produced and make biofuel out of it instead of giving it to people to eat, you are starving people and killing them around the world.

Now this is not the absolut root of the problems, but please take a second to think. Each time you are filling the tank of your car, you are taking away gas that could be put in a tractor to sow the land and make food for people. Of course, if you think small you could say: "If I don't buy it, they won't either because they have no money", but if you stop buying it and others do too, the price of gas would lower and so the farmers, most of which are not subsidied by the Government, will be able to buy it and work the land. You can use other means of transportation such as public transportation or bikes or your own feet, the farmers need their tractors. A lot of people live in the same city they work, yet they use their car to drive down ten blocks and make traffic jams. Other people live in cities, I know this, that have been planned for car driving. Move closer to the office or, really, give public transportation a shot, even if it makes you wake up earlier. Oil is needed. Arabic, American, Venezuelan, Russian... please understand that it is needed, and until we don't find new ways to produce, and I think going back to plowing with horses or sheer manpower is not a choice now, we MUST decide where these resources should go.

I know many of you would like to turn then to the "miraculous biofuel". Since it was proposed, it sounded like a bad idea. At least to me. I've published here two pictures, which are too sides of the same coin. Biofuel takes the food from the people so some can run their cars. Please! Stop that!! Biofuel is not a solution! It's murder!

This makes me think, you know? How dare different organizations forbid certain productive procedures due to "animal cruelty" and yet some politics and some products are allowed even if they are a clear case of "human cruelty"? How many more people must die from starvation so Annie can get her brand new car for her Sweet Sixteen and Johnny can have a car for each day of the week? How many must die so Pablito can drive a block to buy a fucking bottle of water from the convenience store, and Lucía take the car to go work instead of using the metro because she wants to spare her brand new Prada shoes. How many must die so that the fat asses of the world don't have to make the effort? How many must starve to death so that big cities are not replanned and clean technology public transportation means are not improved? Yes, there are options, electrical options to the gas consuming busses and taxies. There are tramways and trollis (is there a name in English for the electrical buses we call trolibusz in Hungarian?), and for fuck's sake, grab that fucking bike and ride it. People pay loads of money to sweat on a spinning bike in a gym when they could pay some bucks for a bike and ride it everyday to the office. Not so much glam in it? Well, dying of hunger or promoting the starvation to death or other people has not much "glam" either. You are in no condition to ride a bike to your office? So you sit through 45 minutes to 1 hour in a spinning class and you can't take the same time to pedal to your office? Give me a fucking break.

You all know I don't have a car, and you all know I was basically holding up due to economical reasons. Too much to pay for, gas, mechanic, taxes, insurance, technical checkings... I didn't have a car because it was not a profitable investment for me. I did planned to get a car when I moved, but not anymore. You may have a car and use it all you want, but I will not have a car so that people can die out there, farmers can broke and people starve so I can wake up 30 minutes later. Fuck no. I will not be an accomplice to this crime. I will not become an accesory to this massive murder.

Yet, let's be clear, this is not a solution to the problem, but allow me to make of this a statement, a sign of what I will not tolerate, and a banner, a flag to tell the world that insensitive producing and consuming must stop. Take a look:

"THE REIGN OF THE MARKET MUST STOP."

Test Done. Now get me outta here.

"Hi. I came to see you or otherwise I wouldn't see you."

duh.

Hands over a bunch of papers unexplained.

"How's work?"

What do you think, moron?

"Getting done."

He nodds and really has nothing to say.

"Haven't seen you in a while, have I?"

You already stated that, moron.

"So... do you have the question you wanted to ask about the GSM Networks?"
"Not written."
"Write them down so I can get you a meeting with the people of A-L and E so they can explain that to you."
"Sure. I'll write them sometime next week."

He looks to the calendar. It's Tuesday. Why did she said "sometime next week"?

"Next week?"

sigh

"I'm doing the standards now. I don't remember my questions. I remember them when I do the briefing. I'll do the briefing next week. So I'll write the questions down next week."
"And how's the Standards' thing going on?"

Is he for real?

"Like I said, getting done."
"Oh. Okay. I'm leaving then."

About time.

Sliding Hours

The bad thing about writing from here, is that the entries in the blog appear with the Hungarian timing. So, the previous entry was written YESTERDAY, yet it seems published TODAY because YESTERDAY, when I wrote it, it was already TODAY at home. Boy, I miss my home. I miss my home so much! I'm at the office, working on this ITU-T Recommendation I was supposed to have done ages ago, if it weren't for the constant raining of request to do with my time something utterly useless because a totally clueless superior wants A to do what B has already done, to which B has the sources and the answers, but will not give to A because B wants to be in control of the "power". Yeah, the eternal kiddy struggling. Don't think I have not been tempted to call up their mothers and tell on them.

"Ma'ma? Yes, good day. Would you please do something about your son, so he would stop acting like the total motherfucking son of a whore he is? I don't know and I don't care about your family relationships or the family business, but really, those things must stay at home."

That would be funky.

Today I love Monday. This Monday I have an utterly boring class of Procedure Manuals at the Professional College to which I'm enrolled. Let's call it my Professional Covenant. So there's this class I enrolled into (paid by the company) about Procedure Manuals. Quite interesting... were only the facilitator a bit more lively and less "pathetically academic". Hey Honey! I don't fucking care about the jargon you pseudo-engineers have to do your job, you do your job and give me the quick-and-over. Okay, okay, maybe I'm harsh. The poor bitch is nowhere near the charismatic Mr.Burgos from the Financial Rate class, which was a blast, but she's so plain and tries to play up her "this is so interesting" game with such off maneuvers... Sure it works at the University, where kids pay and sit through classes hoping to hit her measure, but in here the roles are inverted: she must hit our measures and she doesn't. This was a flawed move from the Covenant.

Anyway, I'm armed with my journal, and though I left my drafting book at home (why, oh why did I do that!?), I can still scribble my mind off on my notebook. It was my original drafting book, after all... ^_^ I really wanna give "Cat Person" a start. Names are not coming to me yet... maybe Gergely and Drew-Dew-Dawn... no, scratch that. Dawn is taken for the "wolf" in "Family Tangle". Do I have something with "D"? Only me escaping from a pulling "V".

Odd, not that I think about it. Slavic Viktor's have been in my life. Not all of them branding, but some of them quite persistently there, like Racskovszkij Viktor, the boy with ice knives in his eyes. Odd also that I called his name, his nickname, "Vitya" while in the arms of no other than... Dmitrij. No, not the classmate... of Hungary. Dmitrij an old highschool classmate of mine. From the V to the D... I'm a woman of stablished paths.

Odd... D as Dracula and V as vampire. Happen to be my fave kind of literature too.

BTW, though I'm not one to repeat myself (or not where you can see it, not where I can avoid it), in my Hungarian blog I posted a vid that's oddly connected to the idea of two of my dear Hungarian friends training. You see, they both train hard to perfect their bodies. maybe is somekind of deprivation from my side, who knows, but lately, when they say "training" this is what I picture.

Who the fuck said that men are the only ones thinking of sex every few seconds? Oh, they are? Then I must be a guy too, only nobody has been kind enough to inform me. Thanks Hyne I was born into this hot female bod, because what I like is men. God bless them all!

I love you, Kiddos.

14 Swatches!

Jinx is over! ^_^ I would like to add the picture of my new Swatch, but as we say in Hungary the picture addic application "beadta az unalmast" (dished out the boring). Namely, it got fucked up. More jinx? Impossible, I have my 14th Swatch and so it is impossible that I've be jinxed. Oh! There you go! That's my new Swatch! I told you I wasn't Jinxed anymore! This is just working slowly. Anyway, my 14th is sleek, stylish and just perfect for June, that critical month where only black and perfect black is acceptable. My third skin. Leather to it. I can't tell you how proud I am. It's a perfect jinx-breaking Swatch. Naturally, the Swatch the Club members only watch would have been better for Jinx breaking, but then I guess I can have that watch for another magic number. Anyway, I've reached 14 Swatches.

When I bought my first Swatch, a black Swatch, the guy who sold it to me told me of one of the biggest collectors he knew, here in the country, who owned 20 Swatches. That number has become magical in my head. It doesn't seem that much, specially for a collector. 500 would be more like it, but since that was the first number I heard of relating to collecting these amazing, iconic watches, it has stuck to me as the floor number I shall reach in order to become a certified collector. Is that to be part of my life? A Swatch collector. Well, Swatch is not necesarily a way of life, but it's certainly a style marker. How could a watch become a "way of life"? A job can, a passion -- oh, I'm getting tangled, and it's not due to the Smirnoff Ice I'm drinking. What becomes a way of life? Style is not a way of life, but a way of life has an implied style. Is there more than one way of life or there's only true way of life and millions and billions of fake ways of life laid down for those not strong enough to be faithful to themselves. How many people get derailed?

Swatch is style and is part of a way of life if you can give it a meaning within the frame of your life. Otherwise it's just a watch, just like an MNG dress can become just a dress for someone who gives no meaning to it, or a Benetton polo just a polo. It's not the brand, and that's something a lot of people don't get, it's the meaning of it.

Meaning, meaning, meaning. That's what makes the difference.

Yesterday I had a few things to do, and none of them had to do with my job. I'm happy I'm breaking above it and stopped squeezing myself for results for a company that would never get anywhere as long as it sports those same stupid assholes it does in the decision making positions. So I went on with my "job free" plans and gave myself... to myself. Ran some errands, ended my jinx, talked for hours with this salesgirl from Swatch about the most fabulous watches ever. Imagine my surprise, my Snow Maiden watch has not arrived here, yet I have it. Oh, I'm the only one here with my amazing snowflake Swatch! I then went for a movie. I saw Vantage Point. I promised a friend a little review, which I have been planning to put up since yesterday, so here it comes.

Vantage Point

Directed by Pete Travis

The cast includes actors like Forest Whitaker, Dennis Quaid and William Hurt. The movie is basically about a terrorist attack against the President of the United States, played by William Hurt. In a very interesting way, the movie is built up from different points of view that, at first stick to different people: Media, the body guards, the president, an American Tourist, but then the movie kind of chips away and starts a new point of view into which many others flow in order to finish telling a suficiently cohesive story in a given amount of time. It did started great, and the delivering proposal was quite interesting, but as it went over and over, the threads of the plot frayed and broke into some action mass. When the ideas and the purpose fail, throw in a violent car chase to pump it up and save the day. Death and angsty solutions to tie up "minor loose ends" wrapped up the finishing of the story, and it was sad because there was so much more that could have been acomplished. Important stuff was left hanging, and in a way I understand why, since it could have been a very, very delicate situation to handle out in the open.

There was something, though, that caught my attention. First, there was the cut speech of the journalist, who out in the open said that America was not the hero in the terrorist situation. It was a brushing upon a topic that runs around the world, from mouth ot mouth like an underground whisper, but which everybody hears. As there was this anti-terrorist meeting prepared, there was outside a manifestation, and the journalist said "there are many stories here to be told", or something on the line, and her boss told her that it was not her place to go about them. Uncomfortable truths that the media covered up. A glimpse to the news and what we all know: they don't broadcast the facts, "the truth", they cover it up. There's no coverage about what's really going on. That make-believe news company made what we all know real broadcasting news enterprises do: they filter the facts so we get only that porting that can be fitted into a suitable, manageable truth.

For those who understand Spanish, there's something else that caught me hard in the movie. At the begining it's very hard to make it out, but the protesting crowd screams "Estados Unidos es el problema, no la solución." (The US is the problem, not the solution.) To put something like that in a movie... it takes balls.

The movie itself is poor, though it has a few hotties worthy of a look, yet I recommend people to go watch it and take something from it to yourselves. There are plenty of interesting messages hidden in there.

The point of view shifting gets tiresome, so you kinda understand why it didn't go up to eight, but the idea was cool.

OMG!!! I DIDN'T KNOW THAT!!

Since all of you are sitting on the edge of your chair to hear about it, I must tell you. According to the SuperSmart I.T. team of this fucked up company, there's a brandnew hot-sex-offering, online orgy, dating & perversion site on the net! Wanna check it out? Oh yes you do! It's crazy, so make sure your coworkers, bosses and the Po-Lice is nowhere to be seen! Stay only for a little time, though, or your door will be smacked down and you will be arrested for deviant behavior! The site is no other than Swatch The Club. Wait, but isn't that like a site for Swatch watch goofs? You know, exclusive Swatch watches, a look at the collections, memorable watches and all that? Well... yeah. But then again Swatch DID made this watch known as "Bunnysutra" (which I happen to have...) about bunnies "doing it" all day long. Yeah. Dirty, right? And to think it seemed so decent and all.

You know what? Fuck it. Here I am, now getting yet another visit from the boss with extra work to add to my load, nicely spiced with innocent questions such as: "And so, how's that work about the International Standards going on?", and in the mean time I.T. is having a BLAST out of prohibiting the Swatch Club site because it's a "Personal and Date" site---- wait, they actually labeled as "ADULT CONTENT". Hey! But it has kiddy watches too? Or is that pedophilia? I know, I know, hard to believe, but in here people is being paid to do that. Oh dear Hyne, how dense do you have to be? Really, the imbecility of people never ceases to amaze me.

The week is finally coming to an end and I'm more relaxed. The papers and assignments are piling up in my "IN" tray, and I'm keeping it that way. Like HELL I would fall into the chaotic pace of the rest of the office! Ha! No, no, no... I have a very limited stock of pseudo-benzodiazepines of which I won't be getting more, so I have to used it rationally.

I still have only 13 Swatches. Man, it's positively killing me. The Jinx is taking over. I just realized that one of my new watches have no ... ummm... that thing that keeps the strap down when you put it? Well, that thingie. Now, talk about JINX! I totally need No.14 before something else happens to my other watches! They are my Prrecious... I love them all, and they must be in perfect and happy conditions. Add to my Jinx, I can't find the number of Swatch, as in Switzerland. I need to call them to tell them to let me suscribe with full rights into the club. It seems that since they have no official representation nor in CR, nor in Hungary, they are not taking me into their list. (And I want that Members Only Swatch!) so, I have to do a lot of pretty please sweet talking and convincing. Talk about jinx, huh? Told you it was gonna be bad!

Oh my Hyne... I lost the sense of time and didn't realize that Jets' birthday is in 3 days! The end of the world. Totally, I tell you. Just ordered the present, which she better don't buy for herself OR ELSE. Got her the only book in her list that applied to the Prime Rate. It will be in Miami the day of her birthday and hopefully for Thursday on the counter. Of course, I fell into temptation and bought for myself a book of the sort I had promised myself never to buy again: gay porn. Why? The writing style in the 90% of the books is... well, there's none. Add to it, I was warned: NO LITERARY TALENT in this book either. It's just sex. Oh man! Like smoking cheap cigs for the kick of it. Oh well. Perhaps I should stick to buy only Paul Reidinger's books. The City Kid was remarkably good. I was going to stick to this Mr.White... Something White guy, who wrote "The Married Man" because, really, it was astonishing the portray of the characters, as well as the developing of the story, but then I heard he was nauseatingly bad in other books. Like he hit a peak with "The Married Man" and was never again able to replicate it. Sad.

There's something about gay fiction and gay literature writers that I find very upsetting: the "gay guy" most of the time is a writer. A struggling writer. A student who wished to become a writer. It's not in one, but in many, many novels and stories. Like a "Mary Sue" plague. (Mary Sue: a concept used in fanfiction to describe when the writer creates a character that represents him or her in the story. It's considered pathetic among more story-centered readers and writers.) Sure, most writers, if not all, write in some degree from personal experiences. I, for once, am unable to write without using my own emotions and reactions. Like I was explaining to my dear friend, Sandy, if I don't "feel it" I can't write it. I might not have experienced things I write about as in that they had happened to me, but as I write, I MUST feel things otherwise is a no-go. Sure, technically every story and every book is a caleidoscopic view of the writer in its different personalities and shades, BUT there's a difference between using oneself to write a story and making oneself a star.

zzzz

this can't be happening.
15:15 and I'm falling asleep.
Already ate and all and my head is buzzing terribly.
If I don't pay attention and keep concentrated in staying away, I fall forward.

I was doing some stuff here and suddenly I totally zoned out.

My thoughts are traveling in packets around my head, but nothing seems to connect.

Can I go home and sleep? Please?

Dunno how will I pull myself across the rest of the day...

Skinny

Another day from the e-mail. Thanks Hyne there is e-mailing or else. Hope I can get home today well and work a little on Hókisasszony. I have a few "less than nice" purposes in mind, which I must execute. Yep, I shall. (hehehehehehe...) Oh, sometimes I do stuff like that. Besides, it's just not fair that all my meanness goes only for Stormberry! The Hungarian language has the right to get also a taste of the wickedness that nests in my mind. All of you have the right to a piece of my meanness. ^_^ I feel a bit hyper today. Is it due to the pills of yesterday? Who knows? Anyway, today I don't need them, I'm at peace, though my lungs are a bit tight, and it's not due to my bra. Maybe is the changing of the weather, going hotter and more humid. Asthma is kinda sneaking closer to home. Fuck, cigs are so banned now. Damned lungs.

I had a topic prepared today about Costa Rican politics, but then something popped up in today's paper and I really felt compelled to comment it. So, I guess Costa Rican Matters shall wait for yet another entry.

France and the Ultra-Thin. Today I read in the Washington Post about a bill the French National Assembly approved about making illegal any kind of advertizing or action that could inspire people to develop an eating disorder. Pictures and shows depicting or using anorexic or bulimic models, ultra thin models will be prohibited, and the responsibles could be locked down for two years and fined up to $47 000. To my dismay some people from the fashion industry complained saying that ultra thin models have absolutely nothing to do with people becoming bulimic or anorexia, since that depends on genetic predisposition, personal stories and family environment. Yeah right. Sure, dangle images of skin wrapped bones labeled as the epithome of beauty and then say that those who try to reach it are trying to do so because they have the "looney gene" in their DNA. How can they say that?

Sure, a lot of sick people will starve themselves to death or puke up all they eat, wash out their bowels and stuff because they have this looney idea that they have to, BUT I'm sorry to tell you, most people who have that kind of behavior is because they want to look like some models. The fashion pushes people to fast and starve with all kinds of fasting and dieting adds, showing unnaturally thin bodies, and also selling clothes that are made for people too think to be healthty. Sizes are changed to make people think they are "fat" so they go thinner. An example. I'm 1,65 m tall, and my measures go like 85-74-114. I'm what in the 90's was an average size 6. Have not changed much in time but then, somehow, with these same measurements I became a size 8. Today I fit a size 12, and I'm STILL 85-74-114. At the same time the "perfect size" has slid from a 4 to a 2 to a 0. and this is not advertizing, this is what you find in the stores. If you want to dress in a fashionable way, I'm sorry to tell you, but you have to go slimmer and slimmer, risking to die for the fashion.

I don't think "thin" is pretty. I think "healthy" is pretty... and "like me" is pretty. Nice smile, big eyebrows, big nose, big c*^_^*. However not everybody has a strong sense of self that can protect them from the fashion's bombarding messages. I praise the initiative of France to do something, protect those who are not in the position of protecting themselves. Fashion, as it is, is a corrosive environment that goes all the time about criticizing your exterior. You are too fat, too fat, too fat. You are out, you are out, you are out. Fashion somehow has stopped being about style to be about sell a lot every season. Yes, I appreciate clothes and I do like to shop and brownse around stores, and yes, I have my pet brands like Benetton and MNG, but I don't think you have to stop breathing while you wait the decision of a bunch of loaded designers about what you should wear. Fashion is there to SERVE US, PLEASE US, not the other way around. I remember this part in "The Devil Wears Prada" where Merryl Strip's character (I love Merryl Strip) tell the girl why fashion is important and how the color of her sweater is that because she decided upon making it fashionable. A lot of people live like that girl, hungrily depending for one reason or another, from the approval of third parties about their look. Style and fashion are not the same, and people should really learn that runnaway are not about what you should wear, but are a display for you to approve or reject according to what you like. And trust me, it's okay to reject an entire season. Why is it so bad to dress with "last season" stuff? Because that doesn't make more sales. Clothes are clothes, and they are meant to cover us, express us even, but they are not mean to mold our personalities, or our bodies.

Stuff our boobs to fill a shirt or make a cleavage for that dress? Lipo our bellies, thighs and asses to fit these slacks or that skirt? Starve ourselves to fit into that suit? This craze has always been crazy, but after a skeletical Kate Moss was made the image of CK Obsession, it has gone out of proportion. legs so thin the knee looks thicker, arms so thin the elbow deforms them, hipbones sticking through the skin, fully visible rib cages. Please take a minute and check on pictures of the prisioners of the concentration camps, from World War II. You see those bodies? You see horror, you want to cry. You can't imagine the cruelty that drove people to starve people to that point. Look at pictures of the mass graves, the tons of bodies thrown there like piles of bones and skin. A horror image worse than any tale, any movie ever made. Then look at the ultra-thin models, at tell me where's the difference?

Let me give you some names.

September, 2006: Luisel Ramos
November, 2006: Ana Carolina Reston
February, 2007: Eliana Ramos

(A "stone" or st in weight makes 14 pounds or something like 6,5 kg.)

All of them "size zero" models who died at ages between 18 and 22. These are models dying, but who many kids are out there, deprived of fame that would make a mark on the world about dying of an eating disorder? One of these articles says that 1 out of every 100 women in the UK suffers from an eating disorder. How can this be all genetics, family environment and/or personal history? Open your eyes, this is not. A lot of people has died for this. I was about time that someone did something

ITU: First Test

Woooooooooo hooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!

I'm over it!!! Thanks Hyne, I'm fucking over it! Oh dear, issue off my back. Deal with the next test next week.

Not feeling better, but not so drowsy either. Clonazepam is slowly wearing off, yet I'm feeling more "balanced" to say it somehow. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Have some work to do I should be doing, but my inner sense of sarcasm is asking me: "Why would you do it when the Activity Plans are changing? It was in the old Schedule, but the current CMI, which you were FORCED to arrange for your boss because he's so unable doesn't really consider it. So why bother? Sit back, read fiction, write fiction and wait for the waters to calm down, girl! You try to keep up with this tidal and you are gonna end sea sick.". My sarcastic self is right. I should do like everybody else and abuse of my postion as a public employee and do jack. Should print out a big sign on the door that says: "I'M BUSY, I CAN'T DEAL WITH IT NOW" and stop doing things. Really, what's the point when no matter how hard you work nothing comes to be done, nothing is ever implemented or even considered? Add to it, my boss is the "clown of the party" and his chain is jerked by his boss and every boss over him. I'm sure people laugh at him, I mean, I do when he tells me his great plans and in what he got himself into to "gather intel and be in touch with what's happening in the company". Oh man! You are being pulled into the big "Insignificant Projects that will never me materialized". For fuck sakes, there's an activity that has the word "trackability" in it. "TRACKABILITY"!!! That's not even a word! Ohhhhhhh, but it's a great innovative tool and concept born from the mastermind behind the CMI, and it's about being able to track something.

....

Is this for real? Really. There's more "control" software and investments in here that the mind is willing to grasp, many of which are ignored by the most of the company. None of them is implemented. So, on top of seven failed systems you want to place an eighth one to see if you can "track" some stupid shit? Give me a break. All it will accomplish is give my boss a new story to tell in the form of corporative whining, and then lock it together with some car-related example.

....


Must break from this shit.

Hey! Guess what Sandy and I are doing? We are co-writing a story! She started it, and it's about a lesbic couple. Yeah, not mah cuppa, but I'm holding my end of the bargain. Kinda wanna make it into some complot story, but she just outed a magnificent character I was planning to use. So, in my second intervention I had to add a character that can't be undo, manipulated: a murdered twin sister. Bad thing about joint stories, and I just found out, is that it's hard to work out a surprise element, as the other part can step into it and devert the course.

Clonazepam

Bring it. See if it can affect me. *inside smile*
I have a weapon in my pocket.
The less evil of all evils.
This is me now.

Sorry.
I'm not leaving this cycle.
Once dragged into it, I'm to stay forever here.
This is what I am.

Don't try to change me.
You can't and I don't want to.
Leave me alone.
I don't need you.

All I need is in a glass container.
World goes a little fuzzy.
I'm so calm.
Fuck your righteous speeches.
This is all I need.

13 Swatches

I tell you, this only happens to me. So, I have two blogs connected to one account. Groovie. That was also a reason why I left my livejournal to rot, BUT how can I get to send e-mailed posts to that one too? I'm kinda confused there. Today my hair is so soft and beautiful, and I wish it stays like this for the rest of the week. My hairdresser said I should change my shampoo every three months to keep my hair beautiful, but I kinda don't like that. Experimenting with shampoos is not my idea of proper hair care. I'm pissed at my boss AGAIN, but lets---

The motherfucker called. Fuck. Can't he like get a life of his own? He should develop empathic powers to know when I'm pissed and don't wish to hear his voice and so he can leave me alone.

Saturday I did something I have been avoiding: I bought a Swatch watch. Okay, I bought two. I had to take three of my watches for a change of battery, and then... I was seduced and I had to take them with me. I mean, I've been so under the weather with all the office thing, with the unability to escape to Panama City for a drink, unable to run away to Caracas, Dominicana, Port-au-Prince or just anywhere in the world where I can get away from all this load of shit I can't control because I'm not big enough, because I'm tied down to here, because things are escaping my hands and I just want to run away from here, at least for a brief moment to gather myself, suck in some strenght and come back hard and cold, snearing and mocking everybody, pulling up walls against what's out here until I can secure my way out of here. But everything was against me. Time I didn't have for a escape outside this fucked up, lying country, time to tear myself away from this corrupted, carcas of a company which I hate more and more as days go by, and not for the ideal of the company itself, but for the shitheads leading it. Time I didn't have to do all the crap thrown in my general direction: the activities of the original work plan, cut for five people and made only by me, the extra activities now made periodic, such as the network behavior brief. The classes I asked for, which take my time but which I considered carefully to maks sure I could handle with my normal work load. The stupid Telecommunication class I never asked for, but I was forced by the company to take and which drives me at such a tempo I can hardly do work just to keep up with the demands of the online course. The notes and plannings my asshole boss should be doing yet he bestowes upon me to do, on top of everything and then "thank me for helping him". Really, go fuck yourself, asshole. It's not help when I can't say "fuck no".

I wanted time to give me back something, and so I demanded Swatch. What I didn't took in consideration was that I just reached 13 Swatches, and the jinx has been going on already. I've been trying for two days now to apply to the Swatch The Club membership and the site goes on and on rejecting my credit card on the same stupid basis: it's not recognizing my CVV. I know I have the credit to pay the membership (I want the one with the Swatch Club Member watch, of course), but it's just not going through.

Fuck... I feel like crying. Can I go home based only on me not feeling well and wanting to curl up in my bed and cry? Is it PMS? I don't care. I just don't want to be here anymore. I want to go home.

I want to... have a share of fairy tale heroic happiness and go find my jinx breaking 14th Swatch.

I can't take it like this anymore. Sorry you have to read this. Time for clonazepan to do the trick. I'm overloaded.

Why is it affecting me so much?

Fuck Him Very Much

6:15. I find my boss in his car as I go to the office, a block away from the office. He pull over and looks at me.

'Now what?' I think smirking some.
"We gara talk."
"Okay," I say, thinking he will talk about the documents I left in his office yesterday.
"I lost your office."

O_O You mother fucking, baby raping, shit eating son of a whore asshole unable of any valid thought or word, who can only blab about cars regardless of people understanding or caring because that's really the way you feel. Well go down to Hell alive and painfully and never ever come back.

"Yeah... the office lottery... I just lost it. You are going downstairs where the call center used to be."
"Due when?"
"When they finish up building them." and then, shaking his head he added: "I can't believe my luck."

I was understandably pissed off by then, so I turned and walked towards the office.

"No, *I* can't believe your luck, and MINE depending on it!!"

What a motherfucker.

Quick-Note

For some reason I'm relying more and more, much ot my chagrin, on Harry Potter examples to give my boss a different point of view. Today he "tried" to explain me what was this "surprise your client" principle from "The Experience!" book, which I have also read, and as if I had not understood it the first time. (Does he think I'm two?) I guess it was his excuse to talk more about cars, so he sprung into a tale about how BMW surprises his clients by making modifications to existing cars instead of making new cars each year. As if this were not enough, he went on and on about the stuff that comes out about the topic of the modified BMW cars in the Car-Magazines... Okay, ME staring blank forward means I'm long ago not listening. He doesn't get it.

So, in order to keep from dying of boredom and cut the talk, go back to my office, I offered him a new example: Harry Potter books. J.K. Rowling kept people interested by making them guess what would happen next. If I were like him, I would have made an example with Swatch, and how the enterprise makes collections and creates new watches, new styles, has topics, include stories to some collections and issues Swatch Club Member Only watches. OR I could have been REALLY MEAN and tell him for instance how J.D. Langley keeps her readers on their toes, wondering with the werewolf books and who will be the next gay wolf couple, who is an alpha, who mightbe an omega and wover, wonder who will be the bottom and what would be the "kink-du-jour". Oh, I can be nasty if I want to!

People still think he's very, very rude and I was amazed to find out that a lot of people avoid him because they think he's too crass. I found smiles around me when they knew he had met a match in me: I smack back. I still feel a bit bad with him. I smack too hard sometimes.

Wrote an article for the office-newspaper. Let's see how it turns out. Finished a report... quite some more to go. Let's see what this brings. I'm going forward, tackling the job.

Now I'm going home.

Testing ... My Patience

Another entry sent from the e-mail. Why oh why? Well, a fair question indeed. I can see my entries, but I can't write them or get anywhere near the ... well, in Hungarian they call it "Irányítópult", which I honestly forgot what's called like in english or in French. Was it the "dashboard"? Yeah, that car-part-like name sounds to me. Or is it only due to my (annoying) boss and his utterly unhealthy fixation with cars? Anyway, here I am to report to you once and again, shortly about the newest developments of my life.

I didn't go to lunch with Jets yesterday (has she read my entry? Nah... she doesn't know about this blog... or does she? Fuck, I should keep a better hold on who knows about my entry and who doesn't.), but I do went to Wendy's where I had lunch with my Best Friend in the World, whom I know since we were 15 and is really-really my super-duper best friend in the whole Universe, Alix. I had a "Magic Box" since it came with a rubber pink fuzzy.. that turned out to be a gorilla. I thought it was a cat or something. They are all alike. Now I want the yellow chicken, which could turn out to be a jiraff or an orangutan... Hyne, I dislike monkeys. I'm a bunny-cat person! Oh, did I tell you that I'll write a story/novel titled "Cat Person"? Most likely I have. The plot is something I'll keep for myself for a little while while I work out a few details. Oh well. A head filled with ideas wil always be a huge little universe of interesting happenings. One can hardly be bored with a head like this. Can be annoyed... by not having a notebook close to record all good ideas... which I don't have. Why? P-lease. Check my previous entry titled "On Notes", (I'm trying to make a link. hope it works through this kind of entry-making) and graciously slide... or roll down like the styleless, unrefined dork you are, it's your choice, and take a look at all the stuff I carry around and of which I forgot to add my PDA. Take notes on my PDA? Okay, inspiration usually comes real fast and it floads you with images and sounds, emotions and something like vibe in the air. It's usually too fast for handwriting, and too fast for typing. Now care to imagine struggling your way around with a PDA and it's cryptic writing? Yeah, like that. What do I do? Usually I run into a store and buy a notebook, or I scrible it down somewhere. Yes, I have used my PDA for those purposes also. That's how I know it's a bitch. My notepad is usefull, but I really resent its small size pisses me off. Writers have kirks, that's how they call it? Kirks? Like people writing only on pink paper, or looking to the north or at a given time... I'm an amateur, but I do the kirks professionally. For me everything has to suit me. Every single thing has to fit my mood, and that mood is the mood of the piece.

The course I was in yesterday was less than I expected it to be. Friday's was just so superb, I believe it pushed up my expectations, and the poor expositior of this new one didn't fulfilled them. Diminute, thin woman, used to teach students at the University, was visibly intimidated by a classroom filled with professionals. She was boring, just like her balck slacks and beige blazer suggested. all about her looked diminished. She made us present ourselves and talk about our expectations (which is recorded in lists and the form we filled at the begining) while letting us know that she would not remember ouur names. Then why do we waste time on that? Oh, is it because what she has to say is already in the slides of her presentation? Clever.

Gonna meet Caroll today. Journal day. Wonder if she remembers. Wonder if she remembers about the Rhys/Sterling she owes me.Gara go home and work today. Little time and loads of job, which I'm doing while writing this, you mind?

Few interesting things in the news, like that thing about Eric Breteau from L'Arche de Zoé. Please, don't think that I do not care about people... okay, I don't (that much), but that's not the point. Charity entities and Humanitarian Groups must understand that they are not gods and therefore, they are not above the law. It never ceases to amaze me who these oh-so-good groups rant into acting in such Machiavellic ways. The instant solution is not the way of doing things because it will only generate repercusions that could provoque bigger, worst problems, and these don't really take care of the core problem. Kidnap and smuggle out of Darfour a handful of orphans. Will that stop other orphans from being harmed? What about all the others? Will smuggle them out too? And what about the children that have not been born yet? Smuggle all mothers and potential mothers out too? And how about all the innocent men left behind? Oh they can stay and get killed or seek a way to solve the issues. Well, they'll seek for women, go to other countries, amnd bring the civil war with them. Will start depopulating those countries too? and send them all refugees to France? Man, revive Napoleon then Homie, so he conquers all Europe and Russia because you are going to need space. There's no need for people, active participants and innocents to die to learn something, but people seems to only get it that way sometime. Hey, since you couldn't smuggle kids from Darfour, how about you go to China and smuggle those out? They are killing babygirls. I know! Smuggle out young Budhist monks who are being killed by the Junta!

Get real.

France is fucked up as it is, try helping there. Kids are getting it bad in the banlieus, how about you figure out ways to help them instead of bringing them new neighbours?

--
« Every schilling you save puts a man out of Work for a Day. »
          - John Maynard Keynes

On Notes

I was going to write a note on Costa Rican politics for a change, but as I'm sitting here, with some stupid Sara Jessica Parker film going on, I have started thinking about other things. Things that may have to come out bloating from the keyboard instead of something a bit more structured. For some fucking reason the Internet is freezing over every once in a while and that pisses me off. It makes you value those moments when the letters appear on the screen as you type them. Like I said on Hókisasszony, I spent all day yesterday writing in the several handwritten journals I'm keeping. One for Caroll, one for Gabs, and my little treasure of all the meanness and dark, lurking little bits of my heart, my own. I wrote and scribbled and poured my heart into the processed wood pulp of the pages of the journals. Funny, how my own journal is so terribly different from the other ones, and not only for the language it is written on (evidently in Hungarian), or the contents, but also for the looks for it. I'm carrying my own journal now, everywhere I go now whether I write or not, whether I have time for it or not, I just can't leave without in my bag, just as I can't leave without a book to read. Now my journal keeps "Suite Française" company.

My French is sadly poor, and though I can say a few things and twist and turn the language to its fullest so I can say all the things I need to say, it's still poor and I realize that when I'm in front of a novel or a novelette like this one, which makes use of a higher, more sophisticated French. I would pack also a French dictionary, but really, that's just as much weight as I can carry around. I must improve slowly and by my own, learning the meaning of the words from the text, reading more frequently until my vocabulary builds up. Kind of like with the English. There is also something else about this book. It was written by a Ukranian Jew woman who came to live to Paris and who was hauled to Auschwitz, where she died quite soon after her arrival. This kind of gives something to the novel, not an Anne Frank flare, but certainly a something, a taste of something... like "Fate" or "Doom" or "unavoidable destiny" like something to the words, particularly after you read the foreword and you know she knew she wasn't gonna survive the war. I wonder, does people know with such certainty that death is breathing down their necks? How do you face it?

The thought of death unmistakably makes me think of Henrik. I must say, I admire him. Was it so hard to die? What does it take for a human being to overcome the pain of ripping away from one's body and scatter around into the airy energy of the universe? If I think of dying, I'm sure the "dying" itself ain't that bad. It must be quite liberating, and it must be the best feeling ever, like the ultimate relaxing, but I guess the "getting there" is the real bitch. Must admire someone like Henrik. But then, he knew he was going to die, or at least he hoped for it, since he was handling the dying himself, but what about Irene? She didn't know when or where or exactly how. That must be... how does that go? How do you get that certainty, how do you feel it? Is it like love, which is never explained and you have to second guess all your feelings to whether this is it until something pops inside your chest and you "know" this is it and it only becomes more and more certain when you realize that it's not wearing off and it's not going away and yes, this must be it because nothing else comes close to it?

Of all determinating feelings in the human range, why can't all of them be as simple as hate? You never question how much you hate other people or other things and whether "this is it". You hate and you live it fully. Why can't love be just the same? I guess because mankind ifds it safer to hate because hate keeps us "strong" while love makes us vulnerable. Same with death. You are not supposed to know it because somehow death is seemed as some sort of defeat. But was Irene defeated? And if she was, what a beautiful sense of defeat soaked her soul that made her write such groping stories.

I bought myself a new bag yesterday. Not like I really-really needed one, but I wanted to treat myself and come a step closer to have a true messenger bag. I've packed it already for tomorrow. I hung my gray dress in the bathroom and I'm still deciding over my black pumps or my ever-present black boots. I think about the dictionary and the weight of my bag again and I remember my poor boss' remark about women packing up a frigidaire in their bags: have a lot of stuff and weights like a frigidaire. I was going to refute that, but my bag is really somewhat heavy. And what can I say? I have in there what I need:

• My journal
• My PDA (wasn't in the original post- Added 2008IV10)
  
• A small notepad
• My wallet
• The book I'm reading
• My nici pencilbag
• Cosmetics bag (the one Mario gave me! Oh, I love that little necessaire!)
• Keys
• Umbrella
• Glass case with my glasses in it. My "sophisticated glasses", you mind. The comfortable ones stay at home.

Dear, I can barely wait to get back to contacts. One thing less to carry around. In tomorrow's bag I carry also a larger notebook, something I should replace soon since it's falling apart since I'll have yet another class at my "Craft". Mondays of April will be all about that: afternoons at my craft learning about procedure handbooks from people who do know about what they are talking about. It's so rewarding, you know? to be around actually thinking people. It makes you feel alive.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, what's in store for tomorrow? Lunch at Wendy's most likely. I believe I won't really be able to lunch with Jets like in the old times. There are no more old times. She has changed and so have I. What is left of our friendship but threads to pic up and figure out? It's fraying. Do not misunderstand me, I still love her, and oh Hyne, how I love her. She's like my sister, the sister everybody takes us for, but we are falling apart. Those things hurt, but we all have to grow up. I was wondering about her birthday present, and I think I have it: a book on the Second World War and a contact lens case. One hitting the motels as often as she does now (so that she has to carry her shower gel, body spray and body milk in her purse), well, sure needs to take care of business if something were to happen to her contacts, right? Even found a glam, very sophisticated, rhinestone case I believe she might find appealing.

I wanted some entertainment for the weekend, so I rented three movies: two newbies and a "sure hit". No Country for Older Men, Beowulf and Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift. The first was bad and I have no idea how could that win an oscar. The second was even worse. Someone should have told me it was crappy computer animations. Why wouldn't they just do another Shrek? At least that would have been funny. Okay, maybe they animated it so no one could blame the crappy acting on the actors. The third... I have seen it and I know I like it. Good thing I rented it.

Gara go now. Won't promise you I'll be back tomorrow with yet a new entry, but I'll be back some other time. Until then, remember that perceptions are imperfect, but they are the only truth we have.

NTM, Or Plain and Simple: Go fucking fuck your fucking self, Fucker

No finished that shizzle me was frott'n wit yestaday... no gonna waste mah stepp'n time wit it. Has a new pimp in da house, yo. Gara brand new bunneh add to mah O-F-F-to-tha-icizzle. Hey yo? Wotcha look'n at dawg? Sum-sum funny, huh? Ya can take tha nigga outta ghetto, but no can take the ghetto outta nigga. Ya feel'n me dawg?

I'm getting a bit fed with some stuff, here, sorry. And the real bitch about this is that getting it out of my chest doesn't get it out of my hair. Oh well, good thing I don't have to speak to that dude, nor have any kind of relationship with him whatsoever. My boss does, bless his tiny heart. Lent him the Machiavellian handbook today, so let's hope he makes some use out of it. Against me? Oh please, like I mentioned it earlier, I'm the working, little krampusz. He wouldn't dare to mistreat his only source of good work. Otherwise.... *looks away* well, only Hyne know what could happen. ^_^ He does want to bring on board some chick from RACSA, which doesn't make me happy. She's a programmer with an extensive experience in marketing. Never did a single class of marketing, never worked a single hour in programming. So she's "that kind" of professional: the professional call-less, spineless, career-whore that would do about anything for da moneh. In here we call it "bombeta", I have no idea how to call it some other way. Why, oh why to I hate this poor bitch? I don't know her, granted. Maybe she's a nice, smart person, but I really can't care less. I fucking hate that whore because for me she's nothing but a "plaza" I could give to other friends of mine who really need it. She's an outsider, brought in by my boss in clear contravention of my wishes to have my friends imported from my old division into my office. I want my pose, my gang, my squad, my team back with me, but the whore is fucking it all up. I've gone as far as vouch for my pose, assure my boss that I'll take personal responsability for the performace of my squad, but yet he wants to bring over the RACSA-bitch.

Okay, MAYBE he realizes that, by scooping up my pose, the loyalty of the team will invariably be on me, the SAVIOR rather than him, but... he wouldn't think that I would so something as LOW as to backstab him, right? Haven't I proved to be great, complying, smart and a worth-for-many coworker who would work extra without complain and do as she is told even when she knows she's right and the boss is wrong, and when the boss realizes so she only smiles and says "So, may I suggest a simple course of action that would pay off magnificently?". I'm great. I should definitivelly be rewarded with my squad. Keeping me happy is the only road towards success. You might say, I am the Kirin, and I'm not kiddin'... ^_^ Okay, okay, we have priorly stablished that he comes from the same shameful breed than the whore, since he is also a career-whore. I mean, what does an engineer does in a clearly business managing position? If he's not there for the money, then he has a really serious misconception about what engineering is. Or maybe he DO believes that re-engineering requires engineers. Yeah, yeah, I must learn to accept the fact that not everybody is as perfect and consistent as me. I know, I know, I'm only human, but they are only STUPID. Sorry, there's no other way to put it. People should do what they learned to do, and if they, by any chance chose to do something else, they should have the decency of learning their new craft or career. Otherwise, you could go to law school and work building bridges or go to tourism school (teach you to become a national or international tourist guide, know by heart all touristic sites and also how to book flight and how to read flight codes and so) and work as a heart surgeon. Extreme? You think? Like economics are not important, or fucking up the telecommunications monopoly market before we even have a stablished competition isn't bad? Oh, just remind me of that when the enterprise collapses and you have no way to make a phonecall or connect to the Internet. Then again, there's always the post office, right? (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

My mind is reaching that odd stage where everything starts to... like... get stuck and freeze. Shit, I just don't want to do jack. Tomorrow is no-working day, since I have the first of a series of three professional courses paid by the enterprise. I'm to be from 8 am to 5 pm at the CPCECR on a quite interesting course about Financial Indexes. I'm looking forward to it! No computer, that's true, BUT I'll be in a place surrounded by thinking people and learning something about my career. (Since I'm not a career-whore, you know, and I rather lose some big-buck chance to stay true to my calling...)

Boss called me today at 11 am to ask me if I wanted to go lunch sushi with him. Well, yeah! Right then. Well... isn't 11 am like still breakfast time? Or I think they call it, in the best of cases, a brunch. Oh what the fuck, I gave my garlic potatoes and boild egg to my colleagues, Cyn and Ed, and went with him. Why not? He's leaving for a meeting all afternoon (after I made him swear yesterday that he would be available all day today...) so, since I had to give him the paramether work and go over a few details, I took on the brunch and went with him. Oh Sweet Hyperion, that man has a one-track mind! On and on about cars. he saw a Mercedes-Benz parked and that gave him his topic: "Mercedes-Benz cars of the 90's, special mention on E-series". I don't even fucking know what the fucking car fucking looks like! I tried to explain earlier to him that the only thing I care about the car is the number of doors (4) so I can get my purse easily from the back sit and fish all the shit that has fallen all over, and the hottie sitting in the car. Okay, MAYBE I'm a little more demanding than that. I also want the car to be green, pink or chicken yellow. Green and pink I my fave colors for car. Well, Pink more than any other color. No man would ever dare to drive a pink car, so I wouldn't have to worry about assholes doing to me what Fer did to Jetty. Not like I would let them, but an argument could ruin a perfectly good mood for a fuck, and ruining my fuck-mood really pisses me off, so a pink car would be an insurance against such things. Besides, look at your right side, or the right of the screen: doesn't that pink Audi coupé looks lovely? Of course, it still lacks two doors and decent back seats, but that's the sweetest little car I have ever seen. As a matter of fact, I want it. 30K pounds? Where do I sign? ^_^

Anyway, disregarding the fact that I know as much of cars as he knows of Hungarian history, and that I'm as interested in cars as he's interested in Hungarian history, he kept going and going and going until I had enough. I laughed softly behind my hand, pretending to be very amused and said: "You really love cars, now do you?" It seems this got his attention and so he stopped. Sure people tend to be one-track minded and stuff, BUT they know there are limits and they CAN talk of something else. Besides, there are far more interesting one-track minds, like people all about sex, gay guys going at it, movies, news, World corporation news, "those motherfucking capitalist pigs", Africa, "poor kids in Darfur who couldn't be saved from the war due to the lack of balls from France" (really, L'Arch, France did what it had to do! YOU were the illegal ones! Next time just think a little ahead and think it over before movilizing a container of orphans), gossip, my friends, your friends, work, bosses, these people I know, these people a friend of mine knows... You know, fun, dynamic topics. What do you rather hear about: a story of first hand witness of two drop-dead GORGEOUS Air France male flight attendants quite shamelessly bending over each other, grinding most likely while serving lunch for the passangers or the 1990-1991 Mercedes E-class someone almost got last year by almost 12G, but that really, the spare parts are very expensive and you most likely will have to get second hand, and why would you have a 1990 Mercedes E-Class if you can't buy the spare parts new and original, because when You have a Mercedes... Get my point? Yep, I knew you would.

You know, even self-centered people are more entertaining. But I'm being unfair. My boss also have other topics, such as "when he was in Japan". Everything was expensive and he wouldn't pay that much, and it was all so shitty, and the Japanese people are such stupid, uptight motherfuckers... Or when he was in Sweden, the Sweedish are so weird and abnormal and cold, uptight.. (Japan and Sweden, just as most of the countries he has been to had been on the account of the enterprise, mind you...).

I'm one-trck-mind also, but my "one track" (work) has a lot of embedded tracks: boss, coworkers, projects, State, sex, stupidity, vipers, fraud, cheating, gossip... It's a complex soap opera! My friends and acquintances with Anime-Club one-tracks are also funny and entertaining with all the plots, gossip, sex, vipers, fights... It gets boring after a while, but like with Dallas or Nip/Tuck, you keep turning it on and catching up on more episodes from time to time.

The Facebook is still blocked in here. A dear friend of mine wrote to me today, Marton from Hungary, and I couldn't answer because, guess what? It's blocked. Man, how I hate that motherfucker. Now I gara get home and get online and ... ^_^ But I don't mind, really. I love Marton. He's such a cool kid! Now he has sent me a link to his blog, which I have been reading, commenting here and there... I think I like him more now! Not only a mind there, but also quite an indomitable, in-your-face spirit. Hope I can meet him personally in december. Can only imagine his bubbly personality! He kind of reminds me a little of Malachite, but not in the "story-telling" sense. Their spirits are quite alike, at least what they reflect on the outside world. It's weird how he regards his eyes (brown) as his strongest, winner asset. I have always considered clear eyes to be the most beautiful thing in the world, and so my dark brown eyes are really not that much to go for. Well, except for the fact that there are no other pair of dark eyes as beautiful and perfect as mine. However, as he said his eyes were his best feature, I found it weird.

"Brown? Why? They are merely brown."

Of course, at home dark eyes are a delicatessen. However, from my point of view, me being a big eye-fan and yet being brown-eye-inmune, would say that his best asset is his malin face, child yet devilish, and his hair. Then again, what would I know, right. I'm not there, I don't know him that much... However, it made me think how the value of features can shift so dramatically from one place, one culture to another.

No Fucking Shit...

A fucking lot of time with banned access to the FB, and they finally opened it yesterday. It was open this morning, and now the horse shit eating, piss sniffling, sewer licking sons of the big fucking whore bloqued it AGAIN? dude, ya gara be kidding me here! Come on, man! Just give it a rest! So I better post while I have freedom of speech! Who is this motherfucker crapping all over the organizational Internet access? The asshole bastard...

Oh well, lemme tell ya a thing or two. Yesterday I went out with this wonderful friend of mine, Shimmy Gin, with whom we smacked, YET AGAIN the International Bookstore. What can I say? I'm an Addict. Yes, I admit it, it's out there: I'M AN ADDICT!! I need my fix of books or I go bonkers. I just need it. Like the coke (coca-cola, mind you), like the air, like the Nutella and the Benetton clothes or the Swatch: I can't be without it. Okay, I can ... nope, I can't. This reminds me... where is my Nutella? (The woman ACTUALLY keeps a jar of Nutella at the office.) Anyway, we were there, minding our own business, Shimmy getting himself a Chinese dictionary and stuff on China, Beijin, Korea and so, plus some checking of "Spirituality" book. For real, I have never seen someone pick jokes of spiritual matters and page through them as if they were humor books. So I went to do "my thing", which is namely raid the French section looking for something I can take with me. (My word, I've been stocking so much on French books I might forget what it's like to read in English! Now, if I can find homoerotica books in French, l'anglais peux aller se niquer lui-meme. La merde que je retournera!) So after I filled my arms with a few very good philosophy and French history books, I decided I would like to check the "business" section for a book written by a certain Lior Assury or something of the sort. The book's title is like "The Experience: How to Wow your Customer and Create a Passionate Workplace".

When my boss first gave it to me promising me it would be as great as an Agatha Christie because it's like an Agatha Christie, I doubted it. Nothing written for the "business" gender is ever good. Everything is CRAP. Funny thing, I liked it. Is it a good book then? Oh fuck no! But it's written in the same style as "The Man Who Doesn't Take Off his Clothes". The book of the Man Who doesn't Strip is about a motherfucking, uptight boss and a halfassed subordinate, where the boss goes out of his way to make the subordinate's life a living hell at the corporation, where the subordinate tries his best to push his vision for a product over the dismissing, dogmatic and irrational vision of the boss, and THEN has to make his boss pose as his boyfriend and then give it to the Big Kahuna up the ass. "The Experience" was written alike but with no sex and no truly extreme, life-like and astonishing business solutions. I wanted to buy the book because I wish to rewrite it, plus I have a few ideas about who could be giving the boss that "little push" ne so evidently needs. I was obsessed about the book because not having it is stopping me from a major relieve, PLUS it would be a useful work for people like Caroll or Gabs. It's written using a Call Center, so Caroll and Gabs could relate perfectly to it... and me having some experience with it... well, the work would be awesome, I know.

So, I was looking for this book. Did I found it? Nope. I found another one. This one. What Would Machiavelli Do? The ends Justify the Meanness. I paged into it and was compelled to buy it. Oh fuck, it's so good! The moment I got into it, I was thinking about my poor and abused boss!

(more later. meeting with the poor and abused.)