You men always... ALWAYS have to be, or at least to seem to be above. Not that you are, don`t get me wrong... But if you`re not doing that, you ain`t men. You have to prove a point, you have to tell us women: "Hellooooooooooooo, I am the men in the house, so respect ME, woman!!".
Yeah bitch, I respect you... or at least I`ll start respecting you the moment you start rubbin` me properly... Or the moment when you start reacting when I`m rubbing my butt on your pants. Why? Because your point is proven: you wanna fuck. Ok, I`m the woman, I get it!! Now stop proving points and start putting your hands in the proper places. No? Why? Ah... you`re the man... of course, you do things when you wanna do them, you decide when`s the right time to do everything. Thenstop wondering why there are no women willing to date your sorry arse.
luni, 13 iulie 2009
duminică, 12 iulie 2009
Easy Like Sunday Morning
Good morning, world! Despite the rainy morning, my coffee tastes perfect. I need to sleep more, but I won`t do it... this morning attitude rocks, so why spoil it? I`m in that state when you feel like doin` nothin` at all, yet, you`ve got the strange energy that pushes ya to different actions, have no idea wtf is wrong... or right. After all it feels alright, so I`m not gonna complain. So no coffee outside, under a blanket, in the fresh smell of the rain. I suddenly feel too romatic for this morning. My doctor Doolittle got to the office (in time, as usual)... and now he`s in the usual silent mode, not hear, no see, no talk kinda thing.
So... my coffee`s sweet, my Sunday`s cold. Keep up the good work, people, after all... I`m easy.
So... my coffee`s sweet, my Sunday`s cold. Keep up the good work, people, after all... I`m easy.
Wonderful World
Pleasant day, pleasant people, and also, pleasant topics, at least for me. The lack of confidence is often expressed as a lack of "know-how" to allow words to subtitute emotions. So let`s feel cool, listen to cheap music and hunt out in the open. Anyone can explain me, how the hell some people end up being totally the oposite of good taste and common sense, just because they haven`t got the slightest idea about how to live?
Cheap music, cheap eyes sliding on my body... and the damn bus keeps being frakking late. Cheap music, again... cheap eyes, again. And I am supposed to react like a horny stupid lil` bitch, overimpressed by the macho talents of the hood concepts. I`m desperatly looking for the bus, as the music goes on, scratching my brains and my nerves. Big bellies, noisy laughters... and cheap music. Where the frak is that bus?!?! He starts walking... one of them. I don`t dare check how many they are. Not because I`m afraid... neah... but I think I`m gonna be scared by the number of people that need to be shot. So, as I was saying... he walks around, trying to meet my eyes. He`s got the cool walk, something that expresses "hey pussy... wazzup?". I`m avoiding his eyes by admiring a dirty Vectra parked right in front of me, or by checking some products at a small shop. One of them is shouting in disgrace: "Yo, buy her a lipstick!!". I told myself: "I need a shotgun, you dumbass, not a lipstick.... I`m full of lipsticks, eyeshaders, eyeliners and any other face molesters. I need something to make you regret the fact that you were born stupid. I need enough money to bribe a doctor to cut your balls so that you won`t reproduce. I need a bat to hit your face till I see small pieces of your teeth popping out of your mouth. I need your face to be as stupid and ... inviting, so I won`t be tempted to stop hitting it." THE BUS!!! The damn bus is coming. I`m happy... no more "manele", no more empty looks. I`m getting into the bus. While watching the happy gang in the station, I`m thinking: I`m a racist! Should I be sorry for it?
Cheap music, cheap eyes sliding on my body... and the damn bus keeps being frakking late. Cheap music, again... cheap eyes, again. And I am supposed to react like a horny stupid lil` bitch, overimpressed by the macho talents of the hood concepts. I`m desperatly looking for the bus, as the music goes on, scratching my brains and my nerves. Big bellies, noisy laughters... and cheap music. Where the frak is that bus?!?! He starts walking... one of them. I don`t dare check how many they are. Not because I`m afraid... neah... but I think I`m gonna be scared by the number of people that need to be shot. So, as I was saying... he walks around, trying to meet my eyes. He`s got the cool walk, something that expresses "hey pussy... wazzup?". I`m avoiding his eyes by admiring a dirty Vectra parked right in front of me, or by checking some products at a small shop. One of them is shouting in disgrace: "Yo, buy her a lipstick!!". I told myself: "I need a shotgun, you dumbass, not a lipstick.... I`m full of lipsticks, eyeshaders, eyeliners and any other face molesters. I need something to make you regret the fact that you were born stupid. I need enough money to bribe a doctor to cut your balls so that you won`t reproduce. I need a bat to hit your face till I see small pieces of your teeth popping out of your mouth. I need your face to be as stupid and ... inviting, so I won`t be tempted to stop hitting it." THE BUS!!! The damn bus is coming. I`m happy... no more "manele", no more empty looks. I`m getting into the bus. While watching the happy gang in the station, I`m thinking: I`m a racist! Should I be sorry for it?
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