i-think-i-know-but-i-dont-know-why « WordPress.com Tag Feed

Bored at work? Drawing stupid stuff on company's napkins is the new Solitaire

nudautografe — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 00:22:33 +0000

Now R., dare say you're not extremely proud of me, and I'll break your beautiful neck.

Professional loser

nudautografe — Thu, 22 May 2008 19:52:57 +0000

Dear Fuck-Wads that live one floor above my apartment,

I just wanted to write to let you know that I really did not appreciate you waking me up this morning (and the last 364 mornings, including saturday mornings, since I've been living in this apartment). Altough I understand your claim that your apartment needs capital repairs, it might have been wiser to do the hammer-drilling stuff somewhere AFTER 12:00 PM. Oh, and I would have appreciated if it didn't take ALL DAMN YEAR, working from 8:00 AM to 9:00 AM every fucking morning!

Your "golly fucking gee, Ma'am, it won't take longer than a couple of days" response does not account for the fact that I never actually got to sleep for the past couple of MONTHS!

Your hammer-drill perforating my ceiling has not only caused me hours of sleeplessnes, but also headaches in ways that may cause a permanent tick. Your "Ma'am, the new professional plumber I hired told me his work will be done by the end of this week and I cannot explain what's taking so long" is a load of horse shit that you should be forced to eat. And "plumber" is not a profession, it barely qualifies as a hobby. Your "As a courtesy Ma'am, we would be willing to do the renovations only after 12 o'clock in the morning" is really NOT A COURTESY WHEN YOU CAUSED THIS MESS TO BEGIN WITH. I have an idea, why don't you torture us 8 hours a day, working from 8:00 to 16:00, like NORMAL people work, and end this hell on earth thing once and for all? Umm...just a suggestion, you total and utter DIPSHITS.

I wish a pestilence on you and your families so that you are effectively driven out of the gene pool.

Sincerely,

Your much too tolerant flatmate.

I think I might be having an allergic reaction to the Universe

nudautografe — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 12:30:08 +0000

Why do the old ladies that live next door find it necessary to fight out loud when they reach the elevator, on a beautiful beautiful sunday morning, when I'm dreaming a beautiful beautiful dream which should never end? Why did the delivery boy arrive an hour and a half late yesterday, when I was starving and all I wanted was a nice and WARM meal? Why doesn't anyone smile anymore and everyone is making any kind of noise, as long as it reaches at least 100 decibels? Why do people think that if they don't include the words "trust me", "believe me" or "sincerely" in the conversation I won't believe them? I DO believe you, just please stop with all the "I sincerely believe bla bla blas"! Why do people think I would be interesed in listening to their phone playlists when I take a walk in the park? Why do Dexter and Deedee speak romanian now? Why do people who have cool cars are invariable stupid? Why do we think that the only way we can succed in life is by being little suck-ups? Why is it that when bad things happen they come in sets? Why do I even bother?

So what are we going to do tonight, Brain? Same thing we do every night, Pinky...

nudautografe — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 20:07:23 +0000

So I decided to take over the world. Of course, I'll wait 'til tomorrow to do this, but tonight I need a strategy that doesn’t require too much time or effort. So here it is:

My easy-7-step Plan to World Domination:

Step1: Build a discreet hideout in an abandoned russian factory, placed in the middle of nowhere.

Step2: Kidnap at least 100 children from an orphanage and make them my slaves. Then train them to adress me as "The Great and Generous Master".

Step3: Hire some genius crazy scientists to train an army of mosquitos to attack anyone I want. If they refuse, kidnap their kids and threaten to enslave them.

Step4: Move my secret lab in a country that has abundant oil reserves and wait for the U.S.A. to attack, justifying their actions by calling me a terrorist.

Step5: Get really mad and send my mosquitos to kill U.S.A.'s president. The Secret Service won't know what hit them!

Step6: Move my secret lab inside the White House and become president of the U.S.A. therefore ruler of this world!!!

Step7: Scream loudly : MuhahaHAHA muderfukers!

Additional (and optional) Step: Release all orphans and give them candy.

Five reasons why I think God hates me

nudautografe — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 16:15:54 +0000

Reason no 1: God made me a woman. I've noticed it's bad to be a girl when I was about 10 and I wasn't able to beat the s**t out of my little brother for being an ass anymore. You'd say it's not such a big deal, right? So I've forgiven Him and tried to put his mistake behind me. Until I found out that women are supposed to go through hell's torture (a.k.a. labor) to deliver babies...and men aren't. Now I'm furious!

Update: Since I began writing this article, my socks were stolen from the dryer. I didn't think anything of it, until I learned that my male neighbour still has all of his.

Reason no 2: God created this and this. By the way, my vote for painful obliteration, Almighty.

Reason no 3: God made chocolate so f*cking delicious and yet so full of calories. In fact, when something...anything on this planet is delicious it's never a good sign.

Reason no 4: God refused my request of lightning strike people who tell me "I told you so". I mean...hellooooo...lightnings exist for a reason, and I think I've figured it out, so why won't You listen?

Reason no.5: God only sends me on dates with weirdos. I know You are single for about....a billion years, Lord, but You must remember SOMETHING about dating!

Did that jumping-around, fuzzy, talking Cocolino bear give you nightmares, too?

nudautografe — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 19:54:04 +0000

OK, am fost putin dezamagita cand am aflat ca balsamul pentru rufe contine...seu. Da, seu as in....grasime animala.

Avand in vedere ca mananc cu placere carne, problema mea cu seul ar putea fi o surpriza. Adica...mananc chestia asta, deci ce probleme as putea avea daca ajunge si pe haine?

Problema este ca imi place sa am tot timpul hainele curate, sa le arunc pe toate pe pat, sa-mi bag nasul in ele si sa trag aer in piept. Este ceva foarte inviorator in mirosul rufelor curate (even though that Cocolino Bear always scared the $&#% out of me).

Si in timp ce as putea foarte bine sa asociez mirosul unui gratar cu verile petrecute la marginea padurii si sa fiu fericita cu asta, totusi nu-mi place ideea de a asocia mirosul hainelor mele curate cu seul de oaie. Call me crazy.

Asa ca in ultima vreme am folosit un balsam de rufe diferit, care inlocuieste seul cu uleiuri vegetale. Perfect pentru a mirosi cearsafurile curate, gandindu-ma la campuri de flori, in loc de grajduri.

Just thought you should know. That's all :D

Things That Annoy the Living Fuck Out of Me

nudautografe — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 22:21:06 +0000

1. Sa fiu obligata sa-mi umplu portofelul de bonuri si maruntis (sau chiar mai rau, de "gumitze") cand primesc rest.

2. Oamenii care aud o expresie noua care li se pare "cool" si incearca sa o incadreze in orice conversatie.

3. Oamenii care imi dau sfaturi nesolicitate-umm...mersi pentru analiza psihologica gratuita, dar incearca sa traiesti in capul meu 5 minute, IT'S MORE COMPLICATED THAN THAT!

4. Cand am ceva intre dinti si nimeni nu se oboseste sa-mi spuna.

5. People who complain but never ever ever ever do anything about it.

6. Paris Hilton.

7. Oamenii care se iau prea in serios.

8. Oamenii care repeta aceeasi rutina autodistructiva over and over again, dupa care se intreaba de ce le merge totul atat de prost.

9. Majoritatea profesorilor.

10. Ca premierul Romaniei nu foloseste corect acuzativul.

11. Francezii.

12. Cand baza tocurilor mele se toceste si ajung sa faca un sunet metalic in timp ce eu incerc sa fiu sexi.

13. Ca am un calculator care mi se strica doar atunci cand am cea mai mare nevoie de el.

14. Sa intreb "De ce?" si sa mi se raspunda "Ca asa am hotarat eu si nu ai ce face in privinta asta".

15. Si desigur, sa merg la sala si sa dau peste "fostul".

Ratty New Year

nudautografe — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 10:34:06 +0000

In China ieri a inceput Anul Sobolanului. Habar nu am ce inseamna asta si de asemenea habar nu am de ce sobolanii sunt atat de apreciati in China. Anyways, Anul Sobolanului nu suna chiar asa de rau daca te gandesti la el mai mult de o data. Pana la urma, sobolanul e un animal care se adapteaza in orice conditii, un supravietuitor. Si in numele acestui supravietuitor, in anul lui o sa renunt la tendintele mele antisociale, la negativism si pesimism, la ciocolata, la KFC si la cafea. In aceasta nota de schimbare si pozitivism, am decis ca in Anul Sobolanului sa fiu mai atenta si sincera* cu toti prietenii mei.

O sa incerc sa nu ma mai plang de tot ce se intampla in jurul meu si de situatiile penibile in care ma bag tot timpul, o sa-mi iubesc tara la maxim si nu o sa mai afirm niciodata ca singurul gand care ma motiveaza sa mai invat (intr-o facultate in care exista doar secretare blonde) si sa mai muncesc ca un sclav pe plantatie este gandul ca intr-o zi o sa fiu suficient de pregatita sa plec din tara asta sobolanoasa (da, e inventat de mine, nu-l cauta in dex).

Deja simt ca ma maturizez. Voi fi un chirias model si nu ma voi mai certa cu proprietarul** garsonierei in care locuiesc. Am facut un calcul si mi-a iesit ca ies mai ieftin daca ii platesc chiria exagerata fara sa ma cert, decat daca platesc toate orele de terapie pe care a trebuit sa le fac in urma certurilor. I'm just kidding.***

Tocmai am comandat o portie de Crispy Strips de la KFC. Slava Domnului ca nu m-am nascut chinez si nu trebuie sa-mi respect promisiunile pentru Anul Sobolanului.

*mint

**I'm so fucking mature, I'm not going to say his name. Dickhead 

***No, I'm not.