Ich spreche kein Deutsch, aber ich kann wenn du willst. (-;
Monthly Archives: May 2011
SD always jokes around saying he wants to make these little white posters that say “Fuck Bucharest!” on them because he loves Bucharest so much but in another way he wants to explode it, ruin it and recreate it, then ruin it again and recreate it because he doesn’t want any status attached to Bucharest. He doesn’t want any pretence attached to it because he wants it to be something that everyone could have, feel and love. Beautiful, tangible and something from the inside. Therefore, my little post was inspired by him and his idea. Below you can find Bucharest according to me. Unfortunately, I can’t say: “Fuck Bucharest!” I can’t say it mostly because I truly believe that you have to Love something before you can Hate it. And I haven’t reached that point… yet. Maybe someday. For now I only want to make Bucharest MINE.
Riding an unicorn, with a dream in her bra
Stubborn baby she flies
Riding a dream on Highway Unicorn
With the fury of a Satan arise.
“Ride, ride, pony, ride, ride!”,
Stubborn baby she goes
With nothing but a dream and a gun
Smoking under her toes.
They don’t care if your papers,
Or your love is the law.
She’s only got an unicorn with
9 hearts beating up in his belly
And a dream burning roads in her bra.
Photo Courtesy of Soffia Gisladottir
We dated for almost two years. It was such a huge part of my life and no one knew about it. This is the first time I’ve ever talked about it, ever.
It was a wonderful relationship but we never spoke a word about it and never went anywhere together. We were so protective of ourselves, of our projects together, of our professional relationship and didn’t want anything to ruin that. We had to keep it a secret for the sake of our work together and our professional careers.
We knew how to keep it deep inside and never bring it to work, ever.
Eventually, all that furtiveness and hiding made it sad. We couldn’t do anything. It wasn’t as fun as we wanted it to be. We had to hide all the time. That was not the kind of relationship I wanted. I don’t want to be hiding.
Everyone was always asking and we deny-deny-denied. And I was like, “Why am I denying this person that I love?” It took a little bit of a toll on me and I think it did for him, too.
Nor did I want our relationship to completely exist in the limelight, as some relationships do, but I believe that there’s got to be a happy medium.
It’s difficult to work with a secret boyfriend in a professional manner.
Moments were really hard, but we have such a love for each other – and we knew we weren’t destined to be together – that we accepted it and said, “Look, if we ever break up, we will be professional”.
— Kaley Cuoco on her relationship with “Big Bang Theory” co-star Johnny Galecki.
Those two could easily give Romanian “celebs” a lesson or two in Decency. However, decency is relative. And today it seems relatively gone.
“Why does a dog wag its tail? Because the dog is smarter than the tail. If the tail was smarter, it would wag the dog.”
— Wag the Dog, explaining the title
The ones wagging the dog are clearly the spin doctors: Conrad (Robert DeNiro), Stanley (Mr. Dustin Hoffman), and Winifred (Anne Heche). But who is the dog? The media, who eagerly lap up every drop of milk spilled by the White House press staff? The American public, ever-eager for the latest made-for-television war/entertainment? The answer is likely both. To avoid making Wag the Dog sound too much like an intellectual challenge, let me make this clarification: the movie is intelligent, but it’s also a lot of fun. This is the kind of film that you can laugh and think your way through. I look forward to seeing Wag the Dog another time, and I think I’ll enjoy it as much, if not more. No matter what your political persuasion is, or how cynically you regard the goings-on in Washington, you will be entertained. Let’s just hope Wag the Dog isn’t too close to the mark in its depiction of specific events. (James Berardinelli)
Photo Credits: mediaserver.adevarul.it
I discovered this great post here and thought to make my own list of things I will carry in my pocket for the sole purpose of confusing the police in the event of my untimely death. I don’t have that much time, therefore I’ll just replace things. So:
I (also) hope to live a long and multiple award-winning (Effie, Pulitzer, whatever works) life, but in the event of my untimely death my last thoughts will be on the Romanian police officers rifling through my pockets as they investigate the crime. In addition to my wallet and house keys they will find:
1. An elaborate treasure map leading to Traian Basescu’s garden. This way, I make sure Realitatea and Antena 3 will go insane and pay an insanely expensive medium to bring my spirit back in order to have it talking bullshit in prime-time.
2. A note of warning that starts:
“Dear Sergeant Popescu, you are in grave danger! Trust no one!“
I know the chances aren’t good that a Sergeant Popescu will be the first one to check my pockets, but if he does, wow!
Note: Okay, people, relax… I promise I will write in Romanian every note addressed to the policemen… after all, we don’t want the Romanian Police to believe the English is some sort of extraterrestrial language/code and to send it over to the FBI… or NASA.
3. Slip of paper titled:
Things to do: buy a torso-shaped, waterproof bag. Plus a skull-shaped key I found in my chips. I will add a note saying: “This leads to Elodia”. It will make Dan Diaconescu go kaboom. If we’re lucky enough, he’ll go kaboom inside OTV’s building.
4. A child’s drawing of a car with the police chief’s license plate number driving off a cliff in a ball of flames. (noooo, I don’t hate policemen… just ’cause they almost took my licence… it’s just your wild imagination… really…)
5. Small gift box addressed to Emil Boc & Elena Udrea + their colleagues, with note:
“Avoid going to work next Tuesday at 11:25AM. KA-BOOM!“
Inside the gift box: earplugs (of course, the ones for Elena Udrea are by Vuitton, in order to match her purse).
6. Artwork from the police chief’s son taken from the trash outside his home. A note on the back reads:
“Dear G., since you helped me so much when your friend, Paul, had me pregnant… I thought you might be interested to see the progress my son is making. He looks just like Paul. Nobody suspects my husband isn’t his real father.”
7. Letter to Tudy Ionescu saying that if he doesn’t pay me the amount of money I’ve asked him to, then I’ll pop out the second short movie in which he’s lobby-ing.
8. A life insurance policy taken out on me with the police chief as the beneficiary. (noooo, I don’t hate policemen… I even think they’re a bunch of sweethearts, sweetie pies and sugabears… really… it’s just your wild imagination!)
9. A list with the names of all the people I didn’t like in high school in a notebook entitled:
‘Cohorts in Crime’
10. Inside the Cohorts in Crime book, a note is written next to one particular ex-boyfriend’s name:
“Not worried about him turning me in because he always boasts how weak the police are and how they’re not tough enough to make him talk, even with rigorous and prolonged punching of his crotch.”
A note of warning if you are considering carrying similar items in your pockets: if the police are rifling through your pockets for any other reason than your death, you are in big, big trouble.