On the juiced-box, dedicated to Donald Crawford: The Holograms – Drunk Dial

[Press 'Play']

Here’s an excerpt of the 911 call (as an mp3) where he talks about his truck being ‘tooken’.

[Press 'Play' to feel better about yourself.]

This guy might be bad, but i still say the drunk guy who got arrested for fondling the nurse who was delivering his baby takes the keg.

Here’s a recent acquisition on the juiced-box, drafted especially for Ken. In my review of The Limits Of Control, i referenced an LCD Soundsystem song called “Daft Punk Is Playing At My House”. Ken said the title tickled his funny bone, and whatever a regular wants, a regular gets.

Poesia L'Aquila l'Angelo divino

Giove o Zeus o Jupiter dedica di Meryluise nel tuo mesiversario di zodiacale calendario

A Giove a Zeus  a Jupiter

Io a te mi affido e invoco il tuo mito

come Davide ti invocò per sconfiggere Golia

Il giudizio

Se ci fosse un giudizio preso a prestito

in una notte confusa

 

Aquila l’Angelo divino

FEED DI ASTROLOGIA SCUOLA



↑ Grab this Headline Animator

Feed solo poesie



↑ Grab this Headline Animator

mio feed acqua sulla Luna



↑ Grab this Headline Animator

Videopoesie e poesie astrologiche



↑ Grab this Headline Animator

Salt of Life

<click>

From the bottom of my heart:
I swear, I never look for them
- THEY find ME !
They ARE simply there and always seem to draw my eyes to them.

Perhaps……..they know I wouldn’t miss the chance

to love and show them to You

and to  share my hearts with others

© Copyright by Liz Collet,

Bildquelle für Grusskarte, Kunsdruck, Print: click hier

Hassib’s welcome home party; (Nov. 26, 2009)

My cousin Hassib is visiting Lebanon after 30 years of absence; he left in 1979 to France for specialization in Pediatrics; his British wife Sonia was then pregnant.  Hassib is currently working in Al Ain in the Arab Emirate, healing, teaching, and doing research. Hassib’s married sister Joelle is throwing a welcome home dinner party this Friday’s evening; all the first generation cousins and cousines are invited; the second generations are too numerous; besides, on their own volition they would not join.

The invitees were: from the Bouhatab (Julie, she wouldn’t miss a gathering, Raymonde, Victor Choukeir, Ghassan and his wife Diane, and I; dad does no longer do dinners anymore; he goes to bed by7:30 pm; he was missed because he is very funny in gatherings); from the Fahkoury (Edward, Joe and Marianne his wife and their elder kid Eddy; my aunt Therese could not join because the steep and many steps; Tony and Janine failed to come); from the Ghoussoub-Tannous (Marie, George, Noel, Viviane, Bernard and his wife Nellie); from the plain Ghoussoub or Gsub (Jihad and his wife Nada, Joseph or Zouzou, and sessine Moukarzel; Jihad tried several times to contact Nassif in Vancouver, at home and on his cellular, but failed); from the Narchi (Montaha, Joelle, Hassib, Jean or Jeannot, and Khaled).

Jihad had arrived from Dubai a couple of days ago. Khaled has signed up with another French company “Air Liquide” with a branch in Lebanon. Jean is teaching 6 credit-hour at a new French university in Bikfaya; the courses are opened from 5 pm to 9 pm; this university is branching out in Tripoli, Baakleen, and Gaza (the west Bekaa in Lebanon).

Smoking was prohibited in the house. The smokers such as Montaha, Nada, Jihad, Zouzou, and I took relay in the enclosed front porch. Hassib used to smoke pipe but quit 20 years ago. Montaha reminded her son-in-law Jean, when she visited him in France, that she was banished outside for a s moke and then it got cold; she asked Jean to hand her a Vison coat; Jean invited her to the kitchen and opened slightly a window and told her “As for the Vison, you just have to wait”.

There was plenty of food and in a dozen varieties such as “kebeh nayeh”, tabouli, hot fish “samkeh harra”, homus, chicken shaworma, mouton with rice, rocca salad, and mother brought in “kebbeh bil hileh of kara3”.  I might also mention the dozen varieties of deserts that we enjoyed an hour after the first break. Jihad loves “kebbeh nayeh” and Zouzou was relentless on that matter: I guess Jihad should have been on strict diet. Zouzou also was relentless when Jihad enjoyed the sweet “karabeej”

My brother Ghassan cracked a joke: Our ex-Seniora PM was out of Lebanon for a few days; whereabouts unknown.  Then, the rumor said that Seniora was asked financial counsel from the Emir of Dubai. As Seniora returned Dubai declared bankruptcy.  I had two small glasses of arak “mtalat” (grape wine distilled three times).  I felt tipsy and kept my silence for ten minutes. Bernard is hot for the next municipal elections (if it is, most likely, not postponed); he wants to be member of the next council.  I am never asked on these matters: my CV in community services is nil and void.

Then a lovely and memorable feud among the kids in the 70’s was resurrected. Two groups got upset for one thing or another and two buses were hired by each group for a trip on a Sunday. Hassib was leading the first gang of Katia, Joelle, my brother Ghassan, and twenty other friends and relatives. Zouzou and Ghassan Ghoussoub were leading the second gang, including Nassif and twenty others gathered in great difficulty and in no time.  As Zouzou recounts: “I was on the street and then, I saw a bus passing by and Joelle was mocking me with agitated signs from the window. I hurriedly hired Milad, a bus driver, and he was drunk and just arriving home but he relented and agreed to drive us.”  The two gangs met at the same places during the trip but they would not speak with one another for two weeks. Joelle and Diane mentioned that they have photos of that trip; I have no idea who took pictures at that period; most probably a photographer showing up at expected touristic locations. Hassib said that he had to wait for me because I was not home in Koneitra and that I boarded the other bus on the return trip and didn’t pay my fair. Five minutes after we finished these recollections then my brother Ghassan remembered the event. He said: “Nassif saw me and said “we smash heads” and I retorted “we pluck out beards (min nattef leha)”; most probably Nassif was growing a beard; I was lucky that I did not have then beard; it will grow several times at two occasions..

I recollect these events but I have this strong impression that I watched “Hassib bus” passing by while I was on the balcony of his mother Montaha’s in Beit Chabab. There are discrepancies on the date of this feud.  Zouzou is under the impression that it took place in 1974 but I am sure he is far off the date.  I believe that it might be in 1970.  A few people mentioned that it was the year of the play that we gave; then it should be in 1969; I was to be playing and then I dropped because I realized that I had to prepare for the second session exam of my first failed attempt at the Matheleme general public exam. I am confused and whoever has better memory then he is invited to join in his comments.

Khaled was in charge of taking pictures; ask him to post pictures on facebook. We parted company by midnight. Happy Adha Eid to all.

Song of the moment: Risingson Massive Attack

Supposed reasons it’s called Black Friday:
~A nickname given to the day after Thanksgiving in reference to the heavy traffic on that day.
~The beginning of the period where businesses move from the red to the black (i.e., turn a profit).

The real reason:
~You will leave any store you enter black and blue from attacks by frenzied consumers.

Yes, dear readers, I have survived my first Black Friday shopping experience. Barely. Oh, I’m kidding. It really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be (thank god for everyone clearing out of college towns on the holidays), but it was still a zoo. I only went to the mall (trust me, that was enough), yet managed to walk away with a few funny moments.

First, I have to let it be known that I can never, ever enter Charlotte Russe without thinking about Grix, Ainsley, and I dragging Stauff in there freshman year. He stopped dead, his eyes got really wide, and he said, “Wow… that’s a hill of panties!” A line which still echoes through my head every time I go to paw through the ‘hill of panties’ in pursuit of new smalls. Which was how my trip started (because I have an underwear fetish).

While walking past a jewelry store, I saw a scruffy man in a dark coat with a dark winter cap on, all hunched over and looking around shadily. He looked like he was going to rob the place. I’ve never seen anyone look so stereotypically like a thief. I have no idea if he stole anything or not, though- I was swept along in the crowd. You couldn’t really stop in the middle of traffic, else you’d be brutalized. Or at least shoved around a bit.

After about an hour of shopping, I was already bored (yet still had things on my list). That’s when a girl wearing a hoodie with ‘Samantha’ printed across the back caught my eye. I figured, hell, it’s Black Friday. The whole shopping experience is weird anyway. I can be a creeper if I want to. So, I followed this girl all around a store, not even attempting to be discreet about stalking her. When she finally turns around and looks at me, recognizing I’ve been following her, I just point and loudly say, “Hey, that’s my name, too!” and then run off. It amused me. Probably baffled her.

So, still laughing, I wander into Spencers. And proceed to buy a vibrator off of these two little old ladies. Why on earth were the geriatric dream team working at Spencers? It’s my mystery of the day.

But the single greatest moment of my day happened as I was leaving the mall. I’m walking along, bobbing my head to the music on my iPod, my wallet emptier but my Christmas shopping mostly finished, when this petite blond woman sashays in front of me, holding up her bags to show another woman (she must have got a great deal). The only reason I was paying any attention to this display was the fact that the blond had a great ass and had just shaken it in my face, and my music was in the process of switching between songs, so there was this lull as one song faded out and another slowly started. And what a coincidence, because it allowed me to overhear this.

Woman Number One (blondie): “Hey there!” (at this point, she turned her head enough for me to see she was much older than I thought and terribly unattractive) *looks around suddenly, her face slightly panicked*

Woman Number Two: *also looking around frantically* “Where are the kids?”

Woman Number One: “I thought you were getting them. Oh god!”

At this point, they both spin sharply around and run the opposite direction… namely, straight into me. I just barely sidestepped them on their mad dash to find their children. What stellar examples of parenting.

Got home and put up my Christmas tree while drinking hot cocoa (it was spiked, yes, but it was after noon, so I’m still not a proper alkie) and listening to holiday music. I’m so full of Christmas spirit this year, I think I will pop. I think this is how Cricket feels every day- no wonder he feels the need to constantly share the love with the world, because it’s acting as a siphon to ease some of the pressure on his own heart.

Even when I’m happy, I’m a cynical bastard.

Changing gears completely, reading just the front page of BBC News today was a sobering experience. Some headlines:
~Dozens killed in Russia train crash
~Zimbabwe cargo plane crashes in China
~Crowded ferry sinks in southern Bangladesh
~Family shot dead at Thanksgiving
~Father charged for son’s killings
~S Korean racially abused Indian

Happy holidays, indeed.

Bonus link of the day: I have no earthly idea what this is, but it’s disgusting. And kind of hilarious. Mostly disgusting, though.

Pues eso, que nos colamos en la habitación de una pareja de matemáticos en sus momentos más íntimos…

Trecho tirado do livro “Este sexo é feminino” de Patricia Travassos

Belinha acordou às seis, arrumou as crianças, levou-as para o colégio e voltou para casa a tempo de dar um beijo burocrático em Artur, o marido, e de trocarem cheques, afazeres e reclamações.

Fez um supermercado rápido, brigou com a empregada que manchou seu vestido de seda, saiu como sempre apressada, levou uma multa por estar dirigindo com o celular no ouvido e uma advertência por estacionar em lugar proibido, enquanto ia, por um minuto, ao caixa automático tirar dinheiro.

No caminho do trabalho batucava ansiedade no volante, num congestionamento monstro, e pensava quando teria tempo de fazer a unha e pintar o cabelo antes que se transformasse numa mulher grisalha.

Chegando ao escritório, foi quase atropelada por uma gata escultural que, segundo soube, era a nova contratada da empresa para o cargo que ela, Belinha, fez de tudo para pegar, mas que, apesar do currículo excelente e de seus anos de experiência e dedicação, não conseguiu.

Pensou se abdômen definido contaria ponto, mas logo esqueceu a gata, porque no meio de uma reunião ligaram do colégio de Clarinha, sua filha mais nova, dizendo que ela estava com dor de ouvido e febre.

Tentou em vão achar o marido e, como não conseguiu, resolveu ela mesma ir até o colégio, depois do encontro com o novo cliente, que se revelou um chato, neurótico, desconfiado e com quem teria que lidar nos próximos meses.

Saiu esbaforida e encontrou seu carro com pneu furado.

Pensou em tudo que ainda ia ter que fazer antes de fechar os olhos e sonhar com um mundo melhor.

Abandonou a droga do carro avariado, pegou um táxi e as crianças.

Quando chegou em casa, descobriu que tinha deixado a porra da pasta com o relatório que precisava ler para o dia seguinte no escritório!

Telefonou para o celular do marido com a esperança que ele pudesse pegar os malditos papéis na empresa, mas a bosta continuava fora de área.

Conseguiu, depois de vários telefonemas, que um motoboy lhe trouxesse a porra dos documentos.
Tomou uma merda de banho, deu a droga do jantar para as crianças, fez a porcaria dos deveres com os dispersos e botou os monstros para dormir.

Artur chegou puto de uma reunião em São Paulo, reclamando de tudo. Jantaram em silêncio.

Na cama ela leu metade do relatório e começou a cabecear de sono. Artur a acordou com tesão, a fim de jogo. Como aqueles momentos estavam cada vez mais raros no casamento deles, ela resolveu fazer um último esforço de reportagem e transar.

Deram uma meio rápida, meio mais ou menos, e, quando estava quase pegando no sono de novo, sentiu uma apalpadinha no seu traseiro com o seguinte comentário:

- Tá ficando com a bundinha mole, Belinha… deixa de preguiça e começa a se cuidar..

Belinha olhou para o abajur de metal e se imaginou martelando a cabeça de Artur até ver seus miolos espalhados pelo travesseiro!

Depois se viu pulando sobre o tórax dele até quebrar todas as costelas! Com um alicate de unha arrancou um a um todos os seus dentes depois deu-lhe um chute tão brutal no saco, que voou espermatozóide para todos os lados!

Em seguida usou a técnica que aprendeu num livro de auto-ajuda: como controlar as emoções negativas.

Respirou três vezes profundamente, mentalizando a cor azul, e ponderou. Não ia valer a pena, não estamos nos EUA, não conseguiria uma advogada feminista caríssima que fizesse sua defesa alegando que assassinou o marido cega de tensão pré-menstrual…

Resolveu agir com sabedoria.

No dia seguinte, não levou as crianças ao colégio, não fez um supermercado rápido, nem brigou com a empregada. Foi para uma academia e malhou duas horas.

De lá foi para o cabeleireiro pintar os cabelos de acaju e as unhas de vermelho. Ligou para o cliente novo insuportável e disse tudo que achava dele, da mulher dele e do projeto dele.

E aguardou os resultados da sua péssima conduta, fazendo uma massagem estética que jura eliminar, em dez sessões, a gordura localizada.

Enquanto se hospedava num spa, ouviu o marido desesperado tentar localiza-lá pelo celular e descobrir por que ela havia sumido. Pacientemente não atendeu.

E, como vingança é um prato que se come frio, mandou um recado lacônico para a caixa postal dele.

- A bunda ainda está mole. Só volto quando estiver dura.

Um beijo da preguiçosa…

(Eu tenho vivido dias assim, dias que quero chutar o cachorro porque ele latiu e que quero gritar com quem me disse alô. Mas o mal é achar que a gente é otária. Dentro de mim tem um vulcão prestes e eclodir em lava. O problema é que quando a lava derrama não sabe o que vai queimar. No fim, o estrago sempre é grande)

#prontofalei

Pinche perro marica, tenerle miedo a una tortuga, ya ni la chinga.

GatuMadre!   Che perro.

Saludos!           adrianwars

I have a life insurance policy with the Halifax Bank, which was founded in the town of Halifax, West Yorkshire. Before I cash in my policy I thought I’d bore you with some Hali-facts:

• Halifax is famed for the ‘Halifax Gibbet’, an early form of the guillotine. Rumour has it, after leaning over to inspect the internal workings of a Halifax Gibbet, the head of John the Baptist was subsequently buried nearby. His last words were “Are you sure it’s sa…”

• The town gained its name from Haliflax, meaning ‘holy flax’, and has been the centre of woollen manufacture in Britain since the fifteenth century.

Piece Hall, first opened in 1779 as a public market and place for trading woollen cloth.

• Famous X-factors include:

Wrestler ‘Big Daddy’.

10 Rillington Place mass-murderer John Christie.

Percy Shaw, inventor of reflective ‘cat’s-eyes’.

William Herschel, discoverer of Uranus.

100% polymer, 100% titanium.

FÁBRICA DEL VIEJO PASCUERO, Polo Norte (Agencias) – Un comando Imperial de Stormtrooper irrumpió en la fábrica del Viejo Pascuero en el Polo Norte ayer por la noche, matando a un número indeterminado de elfos, arrestando al propietario y confiscando su trineo.  Pancho Vidal, portavoz local del malvado Imperio Galáctico, apareció en una conferencia de prensa esta mañana, confirmando los rumores de una Operación Imperial. “El Emperador quiere asegurar que la Navidad seguirá según lo previsto.” dijo el Sr. Vidal en medio de una conmocionada ronda de prensa. Al parecer, la detención se ha producido por ciertos informes anteriores sobre la fabricación y distribución de armas de destrucción masiva.

Un Clon suplantando al Viejo Pascuero

Al preguntar sobre las causas de este asalto y detención del Viejo Pascuero, el Sr. Vidal señaló que Inteligencia Imperial tenía innegables pruebas que el Viejo Pascuero producia armas de destrucción masiva en su fábrica situada cerca del Polo Norte. “Además, él también es un pervertido, ya sabes”, añadió, “un tipo que anda alrededor de tu casa vestido de terciopelo rojo y que ayuda a los niños pequeños durante todo el día. ¿Sexo Ilegal? ¿trabajo forzado? Tienes que estar bromeando. Tenemos la patente sobre trabajo forzado también. Preguntenle a los wookies”.

Al comentar sobre la huelga, el representante del Polo Norte en las Naciones Unidas, Linus Stallman dijo que “no entendemos este acto de agresión no provocada. El Polo Norte ha estado libre de armas desde 1959, cuando Timmy el Oso Polar fue asesinado por un borracho utilizando un revolver 38″. Entonces, comenzó a llorar y gritar “¡No somos niños! ¡Somos hombres pequeños!”.

El Señor Darth Vader no estaba disponible para comentar en el momento de este informe.

Enlace: Imperial Stormtroopers Arrest Santa, Emperor to Take Over Xmas.

Pet pig puts wind up family as farting prompts gas leak fears.  News.com.au.

A PORTLY pig with flatulence triggered a minor emergency near Bendigo this week when smells wafting from the 120kg porker sparked fears of a potentially dangerous gas leak.

Two Country Fire Authority tankers and 15 firefighters turned out in darkness to search the source of the leak at a property at Axedale, east of Bendigo. But the likely culprit was soon sniffed out, the pet sow startled from slumber in the dead of night.

She is believed to be a friendly and docile animal, a much loved children’s pet, possibly in need of a change of diet.

Flatulence sufficient to rouse emergency crews from their slumber.  Bet they were excited.   

See:

• http://www.news.com.au/story/0,27574,26407128-13762,00.html

BOOTLEG RUNNERS FRONT SHIRT DESIGN….

Vår bruksdator i köket har länge trilskats med oss och häromdagen gjorde jag storstädning bland ettorna och nollorna i den.
I morse när jag slog på den så utspelas detta:
Jag: Hur upplever du vår dator nu på senaste tiden?
Hon: Trög och omedgörlig.
Jag: Nu pratade jag om datorn och inte mig.

För att inga missförstånd ska uppstå på vill jag påpeka att min returreplik var given, samt butti båda två log brett.