Fuckedifuck

That's what happens when I have exams, sleep little and drink coffee.

Not Goddamnit. Not Sodding Sod. Not Plopperdeplop.

For your own mental health I advise you to stay out of my neighbourhood the next week at least.

Avid Reader

I have entertained you before about the genius of Stumble Upon. Now I have redicovered this little link.

We all have or had that feeling, the undeniable urge to go to the library or a bookshop but upon arrival found ourselves clueless as to what to read next. Well this little webpage is going to help you out.

What to do?

You've guessed it: I'm bored.

And what can I do about it?

Study?

Cook?

Write?

Read?

Or do as I usually do; waste my time on-line and wonder afterwards what went wrong where?

I'd say; You tell me. But it's been very quiet in the comment section lately.

Bugger.

The Job - II

Loot
- 1, 24 €
- silver earring
- 1 can of Pringles 'Hot&Spicy'
- 1 chicklit ' Temptation in the air'
- 2 pencils
- 3 pairs of sunglasses
- white hat
- can of orange juice
- can of Red Bull light
- 2 keys
- 2 glossy magazines
- multitool
- map of Brussels
- 1 pacifier
- 11 ballpoints
- 1 fountainpen
- 2 umbrellas
- lighter
- giant box of marshmellows

It goes without saying that I gave away a lot of this stuff.

Medical File
- 2 torn fingernails
- aching back
- blocked nose

Paycheck
Around 2000€, probably somewhat less, but I ain't complaining.

On the border

Thx, just what I needed to hear, to brighten my day.

You Are 61% Borderline

Many signs point toward you having a borderline personality.It's probably a good idea to seek therapy. Or at least read a self help book.

Do You Have a Borderline Personality?

Hail DM !

Yes, you did read the title of this post correctly. I AM singing the praise of a man. But he deserves it, today I received or rather today I read a mail he sent with more and better news/info than I could dream off let alone could imagine.

Right, so possibly this is exagerated but for the once in three years I get an unexpected, unsolicited, yet welcome message from a Y-chromosome equipped fellow humanoïd, praise must be given. Plus his girlfriend is always happy when I compliment him, this is so going to land me extra lasagne next we meet.

Happiness is...

... making a birthday crown plus candle from a scrap of yellow paper, only to see the former being sported the entire day by the birthday boy concerned and hear him go up the stairs singing ' I am a king for today...'
... perfect, superb, exquisite lasagne
... cheap champaign

Confusion is...

... not knowing what exactly it is you feel about that certain someone

Unhappiness is...
... realising you WILL fall in love again either with him or a stranger that everybody swears is just waiting for me to say 'Hi'


Life sucks

The kindness of strangers

Warning: I had planned a post titled 'leeches' on how strange it is that some people at a mere hint of friendliness suck themselves into your life oblivious of how unwanted they are. Workshift switching fatigue has decided against it but you may find fragments of irritation of the same nature in the post below.

Looking nearly my least attractive I seem to still appeal to strangers in such a way that it is impossible for them to check notice boards or ask the railway station attendant their trivial questions. No, it is much more preferable to bother me while I'm enjoying my last carefree minutes before I have to start working. In exchange for my quick and acurate answers they are so generous as to provide me with advice. Unsollicited advice, there are few things I like less. And for your information, you personal space invading overly motherly middle aged cow, I'm not cold I wear short untill half November.

After the night shift, knowing I have at least two hours before I can get a train. I slowly walk to the station and make for the central waiting room so as not to be stuck alone on a extremely well-lit sterile platform. For the first quarter or so my companions are sleeping homeless people so napping is out of the question. I get into ready-to-doze-off modus and stare blankly at the not-so-cunningly artistic pattern of floortiles. An hour and a half of waiting to go and there appears my knight in shining armour, sent by divine purpose to warm my lonely nights or sit close enough to thouroughly disgust me with his improper English, arrogant patronising smile, cheap compliments, barely audible whisper and the assumption it is ok to just caress/hug/kiss random strangers. Good thing my nose is blocked from working in airconditioned spaces or I might have reeked the stench of alcohol on him too. Have I asked for this nitwit to lure me into giving my phone number (do not panic loyal readers I was tired not naïve), did I unwillingly invite him to declare his eternal love and friendship by not moodily barking out my independance as I would usually do but smile a tired yet possibly apreciating looking smile as he cycles by waving at everybody caring to look? It would seem so.

Well if glazy eyes, unkept hair, worn out pink trainers, cereleum blue sneaker socks, dirty beige shorts, an oversized light blue sweater, pink/purple stains of paint on all exposed body parts, unshaven legs and the unsual smell of disinfecting soap mixed with waste heap stink and restroom odour are what it takes. Watch out, menfolk, here I come!

Rant III or IV ( I'm too lazy to check)

In order to completely understand what I am complaining about you must know the following facts. I have a holiday job. This job is with the Belgian railways. Everybody and I do mean every single person that works at the Belgian railways receives a fluorescent yellow vest (available in the sizes small and extra large so whichever you choose it won't ever fit no matter how much weight you loose or gain) upon signing contract. This is because everybody that works at the Belgian railways (or so they make you think) must occasionally walk between the tracks and must then for everyones safety be as visible as possible.

The yellow vest now is so much associated with railway personnel that I cannot stir in it or I am asked questions on how come the train is late (note that this is the same train I have to take to get at the workspot in time), if there is nothing we (probably meaning the belgian railways) can do about all the people standing up in the train, by lack of seats (forbidding grandmothers with 3+ grandchildren going to the sea on pain of being branded out an eye with a red hot poker sprang to mind, but I managed to keep my mouth shut), if there is more than one train going from Blankenberge to Antwerp per day (seriously who wants to go to Antwerp? Then again who wants to be stuck in Blankenberge, it's bad enough to work there.) etc, etc, etc. This I do not even want to complain about, jobly hazard or something.

But today, still sporting my yellow vest I arrive at platform 7 whence my train leaves at 16h33, I get seated leaving one chair between me and my neighbours on either side. I take off my vest and start folding it in order to put it away. Barely has the man on my left (of course it had to be man) spotted the fluorescent yellow or he comes closer and starts telling me about his day and his job and yada yada yada. By nature I am a curious person, I want to know everything, whenever and whatever people tell me intrigues me and I always wonder about what they aren't telling me. Provided that what they are telling is something I don't already know, can't guess myself and isn't being breathed into my face alongside the not so pleasant smell of cheap beer and soggy yet smoldering cigarettes. And incidentally, yes just-together couples can be very cute but not when they are practically undressing themselves and eachother on the platform and he keeps whispering (or whatever the softest still audible 12 yards away voice is) in her ear how much he would like to make love to her. And even if they were cute, there is no need to point this out to someone who is very busy not falling in love again.

The Three Ton Baclava Party...

... aKa M is growing old and throws a party.

Starring

myself as the birthday girl

lots of food as lots of food
my friends as the invited
my enemies as the unwelcome
Lucas Munichstraat 33 as the place to be
september 22 as a date to remember
7 pm as a good moment to arrive

Please bring the following:

yourself

your other self

fun acquaintances

lots of presents

Please leave behind the following:

noisy and nosy relatives

alcohol left-overs

tasteless presents

More posts

I need to post more to prevent my entry rate from dropping at an alarming speed. However if I only write to say nothing whatsoever the attraction of this blog diminishes, meaning less people will like to come by and read and those that accidentaly bump into or stumble upon it are less likely to stay long. In itself this is not a problem, it merely decreases my popularity and that is something I can live with. Unfortunately at least three people depend on blog-updates for regular news about me. I can't disappointe my truest, most loyal public, can I? (Of course I can, if you in any way doubed this, you really don't know me that well.)

Therefor I beg you, all of you, to give me a topic to write about. I'm serious, should I find out this page has mutiple visitors but inspires no comment whatsoever, I'm going to be very cross. And just so you know I'm very good at being very cross.

In someone else's eye.

Men See You As Choosy

Men notice you light years before you notice them You take a selective approach to dating, and you can afford to be picky You aren't looking for a quick flirt - but a memorable encounter It may take men a while to ask you out, but it's worth the wait

How Do Men See You?

That should explain a lot.

Watch Out! Fantasy on the loose

I planned a lot of posts here but my messed op life rythm is not only putting me asleep at weird hours, it also overstimulates my creativity. Before I went to bed this morning I thought about a post I planned concerning how and where and when (and most importantly by whom) my birthdayparty would be organised, I ended up dreaming very weird situations with hockey sticks, polar bears (both dead and alive), biomedical doctoral thesisses, gigantic silver earrings and pink snowscooters. I don't suppose you want to know. Factual posts however might be too much ask for from me this time.

The Job

So I've started a holiday jod, the toughest so far has been getting up in time. My biorythm is now after a mere three days so seriously fucked up that I find myself awake about an hour in advance, so I get on-line as I failed to make a connection to the internet yesterday evening when I actually planned this post.

My fellow job students:

Liflaf: The sum of his every feature should make him the handsomest, nicest, most likable man I have yet set eyes on, but from the fact that I could even consider Liflaf as a nickname you will learn that one plus one does not always equal two. He's nice enough though.

Wush: Not even worth pondering about. Plain and boring. Resigned after a mere day of less than hard work.

Cut: Looks, young and energetic but fell ill on his second day. Seems OK but I haven't really had a chance to talk to him.

The work:

In one short sentence, I clean trains. And I can tell you this, people are a messy lot. The dust and the occasional candy wrapper one can live with but I've seen dirt these few days to make your stomach turn.

The loot:
- 10 cent piece
- silver earring
- an unopened can of Hot&Spicy Pringles
- a novel with the title ' Seduction in the air'

I probably won't be that rich after just this one month.

V&A: a review

It was in the easter holiday of 1992, on a trip to Vienna with my parents that I first fell in love with a museum. Not surprisingly, as I was then around eight years old it was the natural history museum housing a gigantic dinosaur skeleton that I fancied so much. However with my age my wisdom and taste must evolve also and my newest love is the Victoria & Albert Museum in South Kensington, London. (Click here to be taken to their site.)

The building itself is beautiful, the collections of art and historical artefacts are gargantuesque, the displays are elegant, not too sober, the information interesting and often interactionally educational, the staff kind and well-informed and then I haven't even told you about the video's and sound fragments. It's too much to tell you, if you go to London skip Mdme Tussaud's and Big Ben V&A is where you need to be.

Want want want - II

I want my own computer installed with a working internet connection. I want my google sidebar. I want Firefox. I want iTunes and my podcasts. I want 24u access to my number two frustration. I want a flat screen. I want a dvd player. I want boxes that work. I want to eat biscuits and drink tea in front of my computer. I want to up-load text and photo. I want my own life back. Or at least not be stuck in this emotionless room typing crying out my needs to the friends that will listen.

Hectic Days

I have returned from London. In one piece but somewhat sad after the loss of my beloved Nicholas. I have managed to paint one wall of my room in time for the scheduled installing of shelves only to be informed hours later that the shelves-installer won't show up. I have cooked a delicious Couscous (dixit the eaters) and helped to cook an even better lasagne with mascarpone the day after. I reported for duty at my holiday job, lived through the medical check and met my colleagues. I have barely eaten today and I am exhausted by the heath.


Come back some other day for a review of London musea, a detailed description of my colleagues, an analysis of my emotional state and whatever more you fancy reading.