<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405</id><updated>2011-12-19T16:23:05.860+02:00</updated><category term='Top 5'/><category term='Imobilizant'/><category term='Ma trec ganduri'/><category term='english'/><category term='Lectii de viata'/><category term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>AntiBlogul</title><subtitle type='html'>Miranda a zis in "Sex and the City", candva, "Hey, except my own, I don't like kids either!" Cam asa si io cu blogurile.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>133</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7443299575025951079</id><published>2011-09-29T11:47:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2011-09-29T14:44:50.800+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Partaj</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;Ia-ti boarfele si pleaca. Uite aici doua cutii, pune in ele tot ce ai si  du-te. Nu te mai suport langa mine nici macar o secunda. Strange-ti tot  ce ai si sa nu te mai vad in viata mea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;Nu ma mai intreba cine cu ce ramane din lucrurile pe care le-am cumparat impreuna. Ia ce vrei. Prefer sa imi pun vasele in biblioteca decat sa mai petrec un minut cu tine. De parca nadejdea mea sta in lumanarile alea pe care le-am cumparat cu tine pentru ca miroseau frumos. Poti sa le folosesti ca sa-ti dai foc la valiza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ia-ti hainele pe care ti  le-ai cumparat pentru ca am insistat eu - poti sa faci ce vrei cu ele,  din partea mea da-le foc. Toate CD-urile pe care le-am ascultat impreuna  raman la tine - mie muzica nu-mi va mai aminti de tine niciodata  de-acum incolo. Sa iei si tablourile de pe pereti si sa le pui unde vrei  tu, la mine nu raman. Albumele cu poze - nici pe alea nu le vreau, iar  daca nu le iei tu, o sa le arunc pe fereastra. Poti sa iei si canapeaua  pe care am adormit la atatea filme, oricum n-a fost niciodata comoda.  Ia-ti si covorul ala pe care iti placea sa facem sex, daca te ajuta sa  ai orgasme cu altcineva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N-am nevoie de nimic de la tine, asa ca pune in cutie toate  mesajele, scrisorile si cadourile pe care mi le-ai dat. Altfel, o sa le  public pe net impreuna cu poza aia cu tine de cand te-ai imbatat si  alergai in fundul gol pe strada. Sa dispara toate documentele tale de la  mine din calculator si sa stii ca o sa sterg si arhiva de mess, si  mailurile, si o sa te scot si din lista de prieteni de pe facebook.  Intelege ca nu ma mai intereseaza nimic din ce are legatura cu tine si  mi-e scarba de orice poza a ta sau cuvant pe care mi l-ai spus vreodata.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tine-ti prietenii si lasa-ma pe mine in pace. Oricum nu i-am  suportat niciodata. Nu ti-am zis pana acum, dar prietenii tai te  barfesc, si de fapt barfesc pe toata lumea care merge pe doua picioare.  Cred ca au impresia ca e de datoria lor sa rada de toata lumea si sa  inventeze defecte pentru restul. Prietenii tai sunt niste prosti facuti  gramada si ti-i meriti. Cred si eu ca nici unul nu sunteti in stare sa  aveti o relatie normala - sunteti dependenti de relatia dintre voi. Pai  sa va distrati impreuna, ca altcineva oricum nu va vrea, va zic eu.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa nu cumva sa-ti uiti pretioasele plante cu care mi-ai invadat casa  si sa-ti iei cu tine toate cartile alea dubioase pe care le citeai.  Ia-ti glumele, gesturile, rasul ala dement si privirile crucis. Pune in  cutii si toate certurile, toate reprosurile, toate parerile de rau si  impacarile. Eu n-am nevoie de ele.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Un singur lucru sa-mi lasi - cheia. Eu de maine incep o viata noua.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7443299575025951079?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7443299575025951079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7443299575025951079' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7443299575025951079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7443299575025951079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2011/09/partaj.html' title='Partaj'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-217184664784470459</id><published>2011-09-13T04:16:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T13:06:40.888+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>E prea tarziu</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; font-size: 130%;"&gt;Afara s-a inserat de prea mult timp ca sa mai urle cainii la luna si chiar si golanii din cartier o viseaza pe fata aia cu picioare pana-n gat care a trecut azi pe langa ei si care nici macar n-a tresarit la fluieraturile lor. Cand noaptea tarzie se imprieteneste cu dimineata e cel mai liniste afara. Stii tu, momentul ala in care nu esti sigur daca incepe sa se lumineze afara sau daca te-ai obisnuit tu prea tare cu intunericul. Nu stii? Atunci inseamna ca e prea tarziu ca sa mai stam treji.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; font-size: 130%;"&gt;Pe mine ma prinde uneori momentul ala din zi. E asa liniste in oras incat poti numara frunzele care adie in copacul de la geamul meu. Toate luminile sunt stinse in blocul de vizavi, mai putin una, la etajul 2, unde locuieste un cuplu tanar cu un copilas mic. Probabil e ora de alaptare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; font-size: 130%;"&gt;Stii, in momentele alea poti cadea foarte usor in capcana nostalgiilor inutile. E foarte usor sa te gandesti la toate lucrurile pe care ai fi vrut sa le faci sau la lucrurile pe care ai fi putut sa le faci altfel. De exemplu, e foarte usor sa iti imaginezi cum ar fi fost daca nu chiuleai intr-a zecea de la ora de chimie ca sa te fugaresti prin frunzele din parc cu baiatul ala cu ochii verzi, care atunci cand juca baschet se uita pe furis la tine si-ti zambea. Sau cum ar fi fost daca fugeai de acasa la 14 ani. Cum ar fi fost daca nu fumai prima tigara intr-a opta, sau daca nu jucai atunci adevar sau provocare si primul tau sarut ar fi fost cu altcineva. Ce s-ar fi intamplat daca in loc sa plangi de rusine la petrecerea aia de halloween plecai acasa si nu-ti mai intalneai niciodata prietena cea mai buna. Ce ai fi facut acum daca acceptai bursa aia la master. Sau daca nu vedeai niciodata The End of the Affair. Cat de diferita ar fi viata daca te indragosteai de o fata. Sau daca ai fi dormit in cortul tipului pe care l-ai cunoscut cand ai mers prima oara in vama.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; font-size: 130%;"&gt;Dar orele sunt trecute de mult. E prea tarziu sa ne gandim la fosnet de frunze prin parc, la strangeri de mana pe sub banca, la saruturi furate pe intuneric in acordurile vreunui blues, la rasarituri de soare cu bai in valurile sarate, la apusuri prinse in trenul catre oriunde si la fumul intoxicant care ne linisteste ziua. Mai bine mai punem un film pe calculator si asteptam sa vina dimineata. Pana la urma, la lucrurile astea ne putem gandi si maine noapte.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-217184664784470459?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/217184664784470459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=217184664784470459' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/217184664784470459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/217184664784470459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2011/09/e-prea-tarziu.html' title='E prea tarziu'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-1879109388461817143</id><published>2011-08-11T05:43:00.009+03:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T17:01:57.142+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>vieti noi</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Hai sa ne aruncam costumele astea prafuite si sa pornim in cautarea unor haine care ne incap pe amandoi. Sa nu ne mai ducem azi la birou, sa ne urcam in primul tren si sa ne oprim doar cand am uitat de unde am plecat. Hai sa ne facem cate o poza de fiecare data cand zambim si sa le vindem oamenilor tristi pe tigari, bautura si mancare. Sa dormim pe canapele necunoscute, sau pe plaja, sau intr-un sac de dormit, intr-o poiana. Hai sa plecam in cautarea vietii noastre adevarate, pentru ca tot ce e in jurul nostru sunt sigura ca apartine atcuiva.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;M-am saturat de aceeasi mancare, de aceleasi strazi, de oamenii cu care am aceleasi conversatii in fiecare zi si de camera mea monotona. Vreau sa vad marea de la geam si cum apune soarele in ea. Vreau sa stau sub umbra de frunze, nu de umbrela. Vreau sa ma trezesc cu picioarele in nisip si sa-mi culeg micul dejun din pom. Vreau sa dau like la locurile pe care le-am vazut, nu la cele pe care vreau sa le vad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;O sa caut locul asta, peticul asta de pamant, viata asta noua si o sa ajung pana la capatul lumii daca e nevoie. Stiu ca e undeva, ca ma asteapta si ca atunci cand voi ajunge acolo o sa ma simt acasa. Si nu o sa mai vreau sa fug, pentru ca ma voi fi gasit pe mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-1879109388461817143?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/1879109388461817143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=1879109388461817143' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1879109388461817143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1879109388461817143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2011/08/vieti-noi.html' title='vieti noi'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-9101288940636757750</id><published>2011-05-28T16:01:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-28T16:03:40.142+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Mori</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sunt genul de om care renunta usor. Renunt usor pentru ca ma plictisesc repede si pentru ca am simtul ridicolului atat de exagerat incat mi se pare ca daca insist dau in patetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tii minte, intr-a noua, cand mi-ai spus ca iti place de tipa aia de la alta clasa? Tipa aia cu care mergeai acasa cu metroul, ea cobora o statie dupa tine si vorbeati despre formatiile voastre preferate. Mi-as fi dorit sa fiu eu in locul tipei aleia si sa vrei sa te tii de mana cu mine prin parc, cand chiuleai de la ore. Dar nu ti-am spus, pentru ca renunt usor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mai stii cand mi-ai spus ca nu o sa ma ierti niciodata, pentru ca nu ti-am luat apararea atunci cand te-ai certat cu tipa aia? Mi-a parut rau si nu vroiam sa-mi pierd prietena cea mai buna, dar am crezut ca nu te pot face sa te razgandesti si am renuntat fara sa-mi cer vreodata scuze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iti amintesti cand, intr-a doispea, mi-ai spus ca nu vezi cum am putea sa ramanem prieteni dupa liceu, pentru ca ne cunoastem de prea putin timp si tu ai deja destui prieteni? As fi putut sa-ti explic ca nu conteaza de cat timp ne cunoastem si ca imi place ca esti inteligent si ca as putea sa vorbesc cu tine la nesfarsit despre filozofia vietii fara sa ma plictisesc, dar am acceptat faptul ca ai destui prieteni. Pentru ca renunt usor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tii minte cand tu n-ai mai avut timp sa iesim in oras in fiecare zi, si apoi in fiecare saptamana, si apoi in fiecare luna, pentru ca te-ai angajat si nu mai aveai energie de nimic? As fi putut sa-ti spun ca ala e drumul sigur spre instrainare si ca o sa regretam amandoi la un moment dat asta, dar am tacut din gura pasiv si am renuntat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau cand ai primit oferta aia de job in strainatate pe care n-o puteai refuza si ne-am despartit dupa sase luni in care nu ne gasiseram nici un defect? As fi putut veni cu tine sau as fi putut sa astept sa te intorci, dar ghici ce, am renuntat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Renunt usor la orice pentru ca nu vreau sa ma lupt cu morile de vant, sau pentru ca nimic pana acum nu a meritat efortul. Dar am ajuns intr-un punct in care legaturile cu lumea din jurul meu sunt atat de superficiale si atat de subtiri incat cele cateva lucruri pe care le stiu, cele cateva legaturi inradacinate deja – la ele nu o sa renunt niciodata. Oricat de multe mori de vant ar incerca sa-mi carmuiasca drumul in alta directie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-9101288940636757750?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/9101288940636757750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=9101288940636757750' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/9101288940636757750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/9101288940636757750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2011/05/mori.html' title='Mori'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-670621180936789328</id><published>2011-04-14T23:41:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T21:33:05.950+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>HR pe paine, frate.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sa ne inchipuim o situatie ipotetica. O tanara la inceputul carierei sale doreste sa-si schimbe jobul si aplica pe ici pe colo. Este chemata la un interviu la o corporatie, se duce, este chemata la un al doilea interviu. Isi face temele acasa si afla care sunt valorile coporatiei si isi noteaza cateva intrebari, majoritatea despre cultura organizationala, pentru a se putea hotari daca s-ar integra acolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa presupunem ca avea interviul la ora 10 am. Ajunge la locul faptei cu cateva minute mai devreme, se asaza pe o canapea si asteapta cuminte sa fie preluata spre sala de interviu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La ora 10 fix, o intercepteaza o domnisoara care isi cere scuze in numele persoanei care trebuia sa tina interviul, insa aceasta va intarzia 10 minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Ah, ok, pai si o astept sau reprogramam?&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 1: Nunu, o astepti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trec 10 minute. Trec 11. Trec 20. In cladire intra si ies oameni, iar tanara incearca sa isi dea seama cam care ar fi cea care o va intervieva dintre cele care intra. Trec 30 de minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Tu esti pentru interviu?&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Da, buna ziua.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Hai cu mine sa gasim o sala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se plimba la parter, nici o sala rezervata pentru interviu, toate pentru altceva. Urca la etaj, gasesc o sala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Ia loc aici, eu ma duc sa-mi las geanta. In doua minute ma intorc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trec doua minute. Trec 10. Corporatista 2 se plimba prin fata salii vorbind la telefon: "Da, draga, hai ca te scot la o cafea zilele astea..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dupa 15 minute, Corporatista 2 intra in sala de interviu cu niste foi si cu laptopul in brate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Eu la 11.30 am o intalnire, asa ca o sa ies putin din interviu. Trebuia sa primesc un storyboard pana atunci, asa ca mi-am luat laptopul cu mine, ca sa fiu cu ochii pe mail. Dar tu poti sa-mi povestesti despre tine.&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Ah, ok...&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Si, esti entuziasmata sa lucrezi la noi?&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Da, am o multime de intrebari.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: La final o sa mi le poti pune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tanara incepe sa-i povesteasca despre ea, despre experienta profesionala si alte aspecte importante ale temperamentului si caracterului ei. Corporatista 2 o intrerupe pentru a-i povesti despre ea si ce face ea in corporatie - ca e de opt ani acolo, ca se ocupa de asta si de aia si de ailalta. Tanara incuviinteaza si asculta ca si cum informatiile primite sunt decisive pentru procesul de recrutare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La un moment dat, Corporatista 2 intrerupe discutia:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Ah, uite, am primit storyboard-ul. Hai sa ne uitam impreuna pe el.&lt;br /&gt;[sau cum sa nu-i platesti pe altii ca sa-ti faca jobul tau]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Storyboard-ul era pentru un clip TV la un produs care in mod obisnuit se promoveaza prin reclame facute de retarzi. Acest clip nu facea exceptie. Tanara se uita pe cele cinci replici din clip:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Ahm, cred ca e un pleonasm aici.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Unde?&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Pai “consistenta densa”...&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista: Ah, da? O trimitem la departamentul ER sa verifcam.&lt;br /&gt;[pentru ca nu intra in job description-ul ei, probabil]&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Si mai e si o cacofonie aici.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Unde?&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Pai “rodica cam” e cacofonie.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Ah,da, ai dreptate. Si cum sa-i spunem soacrei? Ce nume au soacrele?&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Pai ma gandesc ca replica vine de la ginere, care e gandit ca un personaj acid si sarcastic – cred ca ar fi sugestiv sa nu-i spuna pe nume, ca unei prietene oarecare de-ale sotiei, ci poate ar fi mai bine sa-i spuna “mama soacra”, “mama” sau “mamico”.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Cine ii spune soacrei sale “mamico”?!&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Spre exemplu, la mine in familie se foloseste.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Bine, asa lasam atunci.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dupa ce termina de corectat storyboard-ul, Corporatista 2 iese din sala pentru 10 minute pentru a le da colegilor rezultatele. Cand se intoarce, redeschide discutia:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Cred ca asta e un interviu atipic pentru tine, nu?&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: E ok, fiecare interviu este unic, nu aveam un anumit scenariu in minte.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Bine, sa stii ca o sa vorbim si in romana, si in engleza de-acum.&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Simultan sau doar la anumite intrebari o sa vorbim in engleza?&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Daca vreau eu, o sa vorbim simultan si in engleza si in romana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bla bla bla. Corporatista 2 ii pune tot felul de intrebari in care ii cere sa dea exemple de situatii relevante pentru experienta si conduita profesionala a tinerei. Tanara ii da exemple complexe, cu detalii semnificative, depasind asteptarile de durata a Corporatistei 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: O sa te rog sa-mi dai exemplu de o situatie in care ai facut o greseala si cum ai rezolvat-o. Si te rog sa te incadrezi in doua minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tanara ii explica, pe scurt, o astfel de situatie, limitandu-se la a expune faptele intr-o maniera generala si incheie:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Sper ca m-am incadrat in cele doua minute.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Aha, si poti sa-mi dai mai multe detalii?&lt;br /&gt;[tot in cele doua minute?]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bla bla bla. Tanara raspunde tuturor intrebarilor Corporatistei 2. La final, Corporatista 2 tine sa mentioneze faptul ca respectiva corporatie recruteaza pentru mai multe posturi similare si ca nu are idee pentru care dintre ele este vizata Tanara. Apoi ii spune:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Bun, acum daca ai tu intrebari...&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Da, e  ok daca imi scot agenda ca sa-mi notez raspunsurile?&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Da, spune.&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Am intrat pe website-ul dumneavoastra si am observat ca una dintre valorile corporatiei este “trust”. How do you build it internally?&lt;br /&gt;[pauza de 10 secunde]&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Nu vad relevanta acestei intrebari.&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Am descoperit, din experientele anterioare, ca este foarte important ca valorile individului sa fie in congruenta cu cele ale companiei pentru care lucreaza. Asta ii permite individului sa isi foloseasca propriile skill-uri la maxim si sa fie mult mai eficient in folosul companiei. De aceea, consider ca este foarte importanta cunoasterea culturii organizationale a unei companii.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Da, chiar nu vad relevanta. Daca vrei sa-mi pui intrebari despre job, sau din domeniul jobului, e ok...&lt;br /&gt;[avand in vedere ca nu stia pentru ce era vizata Tanara, propriu-zis, cum ar fi fost relevante raspunsurile ei la aceste intrebari?]&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Pai am pus intrebari despre job, despre departament si despre task-uri la interviul anterior. Avand in vedere ca sunt disponibile mai multe posturi, cred ca am aflat toate informatiile pe care le pot afla acum. Dar m-ar mai interesa daca exista campanii de CSR in aceasta corporatie in care au fost implicati si angajatii.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Da.&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Puteti sa-mi dati un exemplu?&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Dar serios, chiar nu sunt relevante lucrurile astea. Oricum, daca vei fi angajata, vei afla tot ce vrei sa afli si vei fi trecuta prin toate botezurile posibile.&lt;br /&gt;[pentru ca, desigur, nu exista posibilitatea ca Tanara sa fi avut deja un job de la care sa vrea sa plece doar in cazul in care i se ofera un alt job mai bun. Pentru ca oricine si-ar vinde sufletul ca sa lucreze in acea corporatie]&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Aha, ok, pai atunci, daca va fi cazul, o sa pun aceste intrebari la timpul lor.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista: Bun, ok atunci. Ah, te-am tinut doua ore la interviu.&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Ei, e ok...&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista: Pai da, probabil daca ai fi avut o problema cu asta ai fi facut scandal.&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Ei, nu as fi facut scandal, ca nu e stilul meu, dar probabil ca daca as fi avut o problema cu asta, as fi spus ceva.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista: Bine atunci. La revedere.&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: As mai avea o intrebare. Cand voi primi raspunsul?&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: Eeee... nu stiu, intr-o saptamana?&lt;br /&gt;Tanara: Ok, multumesc frumos. Mi-a facut placere. La revedere.&lt;br /&gt;Corporatista 2: La revedere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum, studiu de caz. Cate greseli puteti identifica?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Toate asemararile cu procesul de recrutare al P&amp;amp;G sunt pur intamplatoare, desigur.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-670621180936789328?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/670621180936789328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=670621180936789328' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/670621180936789328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/670621180936789328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2011/04/hr-pe-paine-frate.html' title='HR pe paine, frate.'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4982593540015318794</id><published>2011-04-08T02:41:00.012+03:00</published><updated>2011-04-08T03:03:26.664+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ma trec ganduri'/><title type='text'>Ora de romana</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;“Nu mai pot. Vreau sa ne despartim.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;“Iar?! Ce mai e de data asta? De fiecare data faci la fel. Te hotarasti ca vrei sa ne despartim. Si stii bine ca de fiecare data te razgandesti.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;Chiulisem amandoi de la ora de romana pentru ca eu vroiam sa ne despartim. Nu imi mai amintesc bine cum era, daca saruta bine sau nu, daca era frumos sau urat, daca avea ticuri verbale sau nu. In mintea mea am acum o imagine vaga a lui, un rezumat al tuturor barbatilor din viata mea, un amalgam al dorintelor si frustrarilor mele de atunci si de acum si probabil ca descrierea lui in randurile astea ar spune mai multe despre mine decat despre el. Oricum, tot ce conteaza acum e ca el era prima mea iubire. Eu eram pe atunci o fetiscana cu parul scurt, ochi albastri si atitudine. Aveam impresia ca sunt matura doar pentru ca ma uitasem la multe filme, citisem multe carti si imi placea sa dramatizez viata. Nu aveam sa aflu decat mai incolo, dar intelesesem lucrurile pe dos – oamenii mari sunt prea ocupati ca sa mai dramatizeze. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;“De data asta e altfel.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;“De ce? Ce am facut?” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;“Nu e vorba de ce ai facut tu, ci eu… Stii - te-am inselat.“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;Privirea lui se fixa undeva in crestetul meu. A stat acolo ceva vreme, de simteam ca parul meu incaruntea chiar in timpul in care el se uita, blocat, la mine. Nu era nevoie sa ma mai intrebe despre cine era vorba. Nu era nevoie sa ii dau detalii. Stiam amandoi. Era un baiat mai mare, genul de baiat care cucereste fetele de varsta mea. Cu poezii. Cu gesturi si flori. Cu rabdare si persistenta. Era genul de baiat care protejeaza o fata. Care ii tine usa deschisa la restaurant si care o ajuta sa coboare din masina. Observa fata de langa el, nu doar o vedea. Iar ce imi doream eu cel mai mult era sa ma inteleaga cineva, poate pentru ca eu insami nu reusisem. Cu el purtam discutii interminabile si eram mereu, iremediabil, in dezacord. Ma provoca tot timpul, si mie imi placea sa fiu provocata. Lui ii placea sa danseze cu o fata. El era tipul de baiat alaturi de care unei fete i se taie respiratia in timpul unei melodii lente. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;Si baiatul asta ma vroia pe mine. Cum naiba sa-i rezist? Ma topesc si acum dupa asemenea barbati, iar atunci de-abia incepeam sa inteleg ce-i cu viata! Ce stiam eu pe atunci?... Am incercat. La inceput am incercat sa fiu indiferenta, apoi iritata, dar tot ce reuseam sa fiu era magulita si disponibila. Iar pentru el aruncam acum pe geam prima mea iubire. O iubire pentru care trebuise sa lupt… doar nu era sa imi fi picat in brate. O iubire care avea sens. Toata viata am incercat sa gasesc sensul lucrurilor. E o notiune supraestimata. Atata timp cat traiesti, cu adevarat si cu toti rarunchii, cat traiesti atat de intens incat uneori obosesti, ce rost mai are sa gasesti explicatii? Si cine mai are vreme sa stea sa le caute? Iar in momentul ala, mie mi-era de ajuns sa stiu doar ca vreau sa ma despart de baiatul pe care nu mi-l mai doream langa mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;Tacea. Se uita la mine si tacea. Dintr-o data, isi intoarce capul intr-un gest de renuntare, ca si cum ar fi zis “Nu ma mai intereseaza, nu mai am pentru ce lupta”. Atunci am stiut ca s-a terminat. Eram, in sfarsit, libera! Mi-era greu sa cred ca totul fusese atat de rapid. Dar toate ranile se capata usor. Mai greu pana se vindeca. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;Am si-acum rani pe care le port dupa mine, ca pe o cocoasa, ca pe o tumoare. Uneori ma mai doare cate una cand trec pe langa un loc, sau cand vorbesc cu cineva la telefon, asa cum te doare o operatie cand ploua afara. Alteori am impresia ca lumea imi vede cocoasa si ca se uita la mine ca la o ciudatenie si atunci incerc sa ma fac mica-mica, pina nu ma mai vede nimeni. De cele mai multe ori imi acopar cocoasa cu cate un zambet exersat mult, special pentru astfel de momente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;Mi-era teama sa ma misc. As fi vrut sa plec de acolo, sa nu mai fiu langa el. Mi-as fi dorit sa nu ma mai iubeasca. Asa, dintr-o data. Ca sa nu il doara. Insa nu puteam sa ma ridic si sa plec, eram tintuita de o vina groaznica. Asa ca tintuiam si eu podeaua cu privirea din care imi promisesem ca nu aveau sa curga lacrimi. Nu meritam. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;Tocmai cand mi-am facut, in sfarsit, curaj si am dat sa ma ridic, cu o miscare calma, hotarata, mana lui se asaza peste a mea. Ce putea sa insemne asta? Ce vroia sa faca?! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-spanspan style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;“Fata pe care o iubesc eu nu m-ar insela. Nu ar insela. Uita-te la mine. M-ai mintit. Atata timp cat o sa fii fata aia pe care o stiu eu, nu te las sa pleci.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;Isi daduse seama! Ma intelesese. Nu as fi putut niciodata sa insel pe cinva. Eram fidela ideii de fidelitate. Dar ma simteam murdara oricum, pentru ca as fi vrut. As fi vrut sa plec, sa fug in bratele celuilalt, sa il las sa ma seduca. De fapt, facuse asta deja, doar ca nu eu spusesem nimanui. Si pentru asta ma simteam vinovata. Dar el isi daduse seama!  Ma cunostea, ca si cum faceam parte din el. Involuntar, bratele mele s-au agatat in jurul gatului sau, iar buzele nu mi se mai dezlipeau de el. Nu stiu daca el a stiut asta vreodata, dar atunci m-a cucerit. Cu adevarat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;"&gt;Am ramas impreuna mult timp. Celalalt s-a plictisit intr-un tarziu. Intr-un final, toata lumea renunta. Toti pleaca. Doar ca uneori, se mai si intorc. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4982593540015318794?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4982593540015318794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4982593540015318794' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4982593540015318794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4982593540015318794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2011/04/ora-de-romana.html' title='Ora de romana'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-3315385319915443362</id><published>2011-03-13T16:35:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T17:43:03.910+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Just an average Tuesday afternoon</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sa mergem si noi in laptarie dupa birou sa bem ceva, zic. Nu am fi crezut ca, in traducere libera, asta ar insemna ceva de genul &lt;a href="http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/10/just-average-sunday.html"&gt;asta&lt;/a&gt;. Dar stati va povestesc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Set up: Eu si ea, ne asezam frumusel la o masa in laptarie, cu cate o ciocolata calda, ca sa discutam despre teorema lui lagrange si alte lucruri femeiesti. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Entry, stage left: El1 (ca sa nu folosim nume, ca nu-i frumos), vine de la alta masa la care statea cu un El2. Amandoi imbracati la costum, ferchezuiti, cu berea in mana, cam la 30-40-50 ani (it kinda gets blurry de la o varsta inaintata unde anume se situeaza).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El1: Buna seara, ma scuzati daca va deranjez, as vrea sa va invit sa stati la masa mea si a colegului meu cateva minute.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: [de ce as face asta, cand stau deja la o masa?!] creepy look &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: [ma ia de mana vizibil pentru El1] Ahm... da, mersi frumos de invitatie. Eram in mijlocul unei conversatii - va anuntam noi in cinci minute daca venim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El1 pleaca.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Ai o problema in a zice nu? Ii prelungim agonia inca cinci minute?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Pai nush, ma gandeam ca ar fi fun sa facem un pic misto de ei. Hai ca ma duc la ei, fac cunostinta cu ei si le zic ca nu stam la masa lor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Adica te duci pana la masa lor ca sa le zici ca nu venim la masa lor? &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Da. Le zic pur si simplu ca nu vrem sau we play the gay couple card again?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: A, nush, zi-le si tu ceva de mijloc, nu fi evidenta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Bine, le spun ca vrem sa stam noi doua impreuna ca nu ne-am mai vazut de o saptamana si avem de povestit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea se duce la masa lor. Eu imi aprind o tigara si o urmaresc foarte atent. Face cunostinta cu ei, schimba doua vorbe, dupa care se asaza la masa cu ei. Ok, that didn't go as planned. Imi termin tigara si ma duc dupa ea. Ajung la masa, cu o fata foarte suparata si ii pun mana pe umar foarte tandru.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Esti ok? Hai inapoi la masa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: [imi ia mana in mana ei] A, da, sunt ok, uite, ei sunt avocati si le-am spus ca eu am fost in delegatie saptamana trecuta si avem de povestit si de-aia nu putem sta cu ei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El2: Si noi tocmai ii spuneam ca puteti povesti si la masa noastra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Da, multumim frumos de invitatie, dar nu e cazul. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/19.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El2: Haideti sa facem cunostinta. Si imi saruta mana.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Imi pare bine. [catre ea] Hai, mergem?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Haideti ca noi mergem la masa noastra. Poate venim mai incolo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ajunse la masa, ne facem planul de bataie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Avocati - really? Ce cauta aici?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Au iesit si ei dupa birou, ca baietii, si sunt pusi pe agatat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Ok, so definitely the gay couple card.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Ar fi tare sa prostim doi avocati.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Da, ce-i drept ar fi. Hai ca vedem. Poate mergem mai incolo la masa lor si facem un pic misto de ei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Fast forward vreo jumatate de ora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Aoleu, vezi ca vine iar ala inspre noi. Quick, vino mai langa mine si ia-ma de mana.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El1: Am venit sa va mai invit inca o data la masa noastra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: E ok, poate venim un pic mai incolo. Sau puteti sa veniti voi la masa noastra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El1: Pai daca nu vine muntele la Mahomed, vine Mahomed la munte.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Si cine anume este muntele in parabola asta? &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ma rog, vin ei la noi la masa, isi cumpara cinci beri (sa aiba), noi ne intram in personajele noastre. La masa de alaturi, alti doi tipi se uita insistent la noi (pe modelul unde dai si inde crapa).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El2: [observa ca ne tinem de mana] Voi sunteti surori?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Ahm... nu. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/25.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Chiar din contra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Da, ar fi un pic ciudat sa fim surori.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El2: Sunteti dusmance?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Dusman este opusul surorii?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El1: Nu, de fapt cuvantul sora nu are antonim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Well, thank you Captain Obvious. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/35.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El2: Sunteti prietene?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Ahm... nu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: [uitandu-ma putin suparata la ea] Hai, mai, ca suntem si prietene.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Da, da, asa e. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/07.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Imi ia mana si mi-o mangaie impaciutor de obrazul ei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El2: Ce semn mai frumos de prietenie decat sa va tineti de mana? E o legatura indestructibila intre voi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Discutiile au degenerat in tot felul de subiecte, de la esecurile profesionale ale lui El2, care tocmai pierduse un proces si incerca sa-si inece amarul in bautura, la francmasonerie si esecurile in dragoste ale lui El1, care inca o iubea pe fosta lui prietena.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Doar doua extrase, ca sa nu plictisesc:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;[vorbind despre francmasonerie]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El2: Tu n-ar trebui sa stii despre francmasonerie, asta era o societate secreta exclusivista, nu era pentru tarani.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Pai da, dar n-ai de unde sa stii cum am aflat eu despre francmasonerie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El2: Ei, pai ti-ai tras-o cu un francmason si ti-a zis ala. Da ala nu trebuia sa se coboare pana la nivelul ala de a si-o trage cu oricine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Dude, I'm holding a chick's hand. Do I look like I fuck men?? &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/12.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;[vorbind despre calatorii]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El1: Mie imi place foarte mult sa caltoresc. [si ne insira toate locruile pe unde a fost] Voi calatoriti des impreuna?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Incercam, pe cat posibil. Adica ne facem toate vacantele impreuna, normal. Cand putem sa plecam amandoua de la serviciu in acelasi timp.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Da, de exemplu vara trecuta am fost in vacanta in Barcelona.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El1: Da, am fost si eu acolo, e foarte frumos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Si noua ne-a placut, desi domnisoara a facut nazuri la inceput ca nu-i placea hotelul. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Ei, hai sa nu ne amintim acuma. Barcelona e, intr-adevar, foarte frumoasa, merita sa te duci in 2 acolo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El1: Da... &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/11.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Note to self: lawyers are not so hard to fool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-3315385319915443362?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/3315385319915443362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=3315385319915443362' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3315385319915443362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3315385319915443362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2011/03/just-average-tuesday-afternoon.html' title='Just an average Tuesday afternoon'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-3572308807485824598</id><published>2010-12-21T00:36:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2010-12-21T00:42:50.947+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='english'/><title type='text'>Two easy steps to going insane</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1. Buy an apartment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;2. Fix it up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Bonus: Do the cleaning all by yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-3572308807485824598?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/3572308807485824598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=3572308807485824598' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3572308807485824598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3572308807485824598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/12/two-easy-steps-to-going-insane.html' title='Two easy steps to going insane'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2078476483549680858</id><published>2010-10-31T23:56:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T01:54:42.391+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Just an average Sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Alo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;Ea: Buna, ce faci?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Hei, bine, tu ce faci?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Ce planuri ai azi pe la sapte jumate?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Nu stiu, nimic deosebit, de ce?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Mergem sa vedem un apartament?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: ....ahmmm...da. Pentru cine?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Am vazut azi cat stateam la stop un anunt cu un apartament de inchiriat pe Magheru. Am sunat si mi-a zis ca e 700 de euro pe luna si am zis ca vreau sa-l vad, ca sunt curioasa ce are de e asa scump.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: A, deci nu vrei sa te muti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Nu, domne, ma gandeam ca ar fi distractiv. Vezi ca i-am zis ca o sa vin cu prietena mea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Adica cu mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Da. Duuuh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Si vrei sa ma imbrac intr-un fel anume, adica are we playing dress-up as well?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Nu, your usual self should suffice. Trec eu sa te iau de acasa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Ok.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Fast forward pana la sapte si ceva, in masina ei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Ca sa-mi fie clar, nu avem de gand sa inchiriem acest apartament, da?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Nu mai, doar il vedem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Ok, si what's our story?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Pai vrem sa ne mutam impreuna, amandoua lucram la HP, iar eu iti fac o surpriza cu acest apartament. You play the bitchy chick and I'm the man in the relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Ok, si ne si pupam pe acolo, sau we play it low-profile?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Nu, domne, nu ne pupam...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Da, adevarul ca n-ar fi foarte credibil ca un cuplu de gay sa se duca la o vizionare si sa inceapa sa se sarute in fata unui strain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Fast forward pana la apartament.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Buna seara.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El (proprietar): Buna seara, poftiti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Ah, ma scuzati, ea este prietena mea, Eliza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Buna seara, Eliza, imi pare bine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El: Buna seara, si mie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;[bla bla bla, tot felul de platitudini]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea isi tine mana pe spatele meu in timp ce eu vorbesc cu proprietarul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu o iau de mana.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Intram in dormitorul nemobilat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El: Aici e dormitorul, trebuie sa vedeti cum faceti cu amenajatul ca nu intra un pat foarte mare, maxim un metru jumate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: A, da, nu-i problema, nici nu ne trebuie mai mult.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Merge si o canapea, ne descurcam noi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu deschid dressingul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Nu-ti place?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea ma pupa pe mana.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Proprietarul deschide usa la baie si ne explica ce gasim inauntru.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu stau rezemata de un perete, ea sta in fata mea. Eu o iau de mana, ea imi pune mana in jurul mijlocului ei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Uite mai, e cu dus, cum iti place tie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Da, pai nici nu poti sa pui cada aici, ca e prea mica baia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea intra in baie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ea: Mda, e mica, n-avem loc amandoua.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu: Da, dimineata trebuie sa ne facem program.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;El: Ei, da, dar dusul e mare, acolo incap doua persoane deodata.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Note to self: Do this more often. It is totally fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2078476483549680858?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2078476483549680858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2078476483549680858' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2078476483549680858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2078476483549680858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/10/just-average-sunday.html' title='Just an average Sunday'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5639575452305429308</id><published>2010-10-01T01:19:00.010+03:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T23:55:52.262+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>daca toti suntem lei, cine mai sunt iepurii?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Cumva, in ultima vreme, mi se pare ca oriunde intorc capul dau peste ONG-uri. Mai mici, mai mari, cu obiective mai ambitioase, fara nici un fel de obiectiv clar, cu fonduri sau fara, fiecare cu cate un domeniu din ce in ce mai nisat. In curand o sa gasesc un ONG in care lucreaza trei oameni ca sa stranga fonduri pentru o pisica.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Nu vreau sa fiu inteleasa gresit. Ma bucur ca pare ca voluntariatul devine, in sfarsit, o cultura si in Romania. Mi-e drag sa vad cum oamenii tineri lucreaza nu la firma lui tati, nici in companii de consultanta, ci pentru o cauza in care chiar cred. Mai ales atunci cand fac asta nu pentru practica obligatorie de la facultate sau activitati extracuriculare pentru cand o sa aplice la Harvard. Mi se pare absolut genial cum chiar si oamenii trecuti de adolescenta fac asta, fie in timpul liber de la birou, fie full-time, dupa ce au renuntat la un job banos, si ii admir pe toti cei care ajuta societatea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Dar. Toata lumea are propriul ONG. Deja nu mai e trendy sa ai propriul tau business, sa fii patron. A fi patron nu spune despre tine ca ai si stofa de manager, si gandire strategica, dar si un suflet mare. A avea un ONG, insa, emana asta prin toti porii. Si ajungem in situatia in care se inmultesc ONG-urile ca ciupercile dupa ploaie, se niseaza atat de mult incat deruleaza un singur proiect pe termen scurt, organizat de unul sau doi oameni si apoi isi indeplineste scopul si devine inutil. Si ies pe piata cinci ONG-uri cu produse similare, campanii asemanatoare, de omul normal e complet bulversat, de le amesteca intre ele si pana la urma nu mai da 2% niciunde. O sa se ajunga in situatia paradoxala in care avem prea multe ONG-uri si, de fapt, nici unul nu ajuta la nimic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Pentru ca toata lumea vrea sa fie lider. Nu se poate sa gasesti un ONG deja existent si sa-ti sufleci manecile si sa muncesti alaturi de altii pentru un scop, e mult mai bine sa te specializezi tu pe o combinatie dubioasa de valori si obiective si sa iti deschizi propriul ONG. Pentru ca ce sens are sa ajuti oamenii din anonimat, trebuie doar sa te faci auzit cu adevarat, sa devii faimos si sa reinventezi roata. Hai sa mai facem o scoala de vara pentru elevii de liceu din sectorul 2 care nu au flori la geam si locuiesc mai sus de etajul 6, hai sa mai salvam un animal (dar doar unul anume, nu pe toate, ca de restul nu ne pasa). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Si iata cum se iroseste talentul. In loc sa intri frumusel intr-un ONG si sa-ti propui ideea, sa folosesti resursele deja existente acolo, infrastructura de acolo, sa ajuti la dezvoltarea ONG-ului aluia si, in proces, sa reusesti sa faci cu adevarat o diferenta pentru cauza in care crezi, eu zic ca e mult mai bine sa te bati cu pumnul in piept si sa faci totul de unul singur. Pentru ca da, cel mai important e sa dovedesti tu ca poti, nu sa ajuti in jurul tau.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;De exemplu, mi se pare absolut absurd ca o facultate sa aiba mai multe asociatii studentesti. Mi se pare cel putin ciudat sa existe mai multe ONG-uri pe ecologie. Fiecare salveaza o alta natura?? Iar pe educatie mi se pare fantasmagoric cum toate ONG-urile vor sa le dezvolte aceleasi skilluri tinerilor, insa lucreaza separat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eu, daca as fi presedinte de ONG, m-as uni cu toate ONG-urile asemenatoare si as face un ONG dodolot care bineinteles ca ar fi mai mare decat suma tuturor partilor sale si care ar putea avea mult mai multa vizibilitate in societate si un impact mai mare asupra problemelor actuale. Si n-as avea nici o problema in a redeveni un iepuras ascultator, atata vreme cat stiu ca exista un leu care are grija de mine si alti iepurasi in jurul meu cu care ma pot juca in liniste.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5639575452305429308?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5639575452305429308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5639575452305429308' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5639575452305429308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5639575452305429308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/10/daca-toti-suntem-lei-cine-mai-sunt.html' title='daca toti suntem lei, cine mai sunt iepurii?'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2901030229749276007</id><published>2010-09-02T14:51:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2010-09-03T18:40:03.083+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>headcount: 33. and counting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Din multitudinea de sfaturi despre relatii pe care le impart pe blog cu atata intelepciune si generozitate, mai luati unul: vreti sa agatati? Luati-va &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sxTgtrI_4R0&amp;amp;feature=channel"&gt;poiuri&lt;/a&gt;. Pe testate. Va zic eu, merge. Poate nu din prima, si poate ca o sa agatati si altceva in afara de sufletul vostru pereche (but hey, who believes in that stuff anywayz?), dar merge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recomand metoda asta mai ales celor care nu au texte de agatat si nici pe cineva anume in minte. Nici nu va trebuie, ca daca va dati cu poiurile, vin ei la voi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some pointers, though:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;inainte sa incepeti sa agatati, learn some tricks; otherwise, you'll just look like some crazy person with strings; kinda dangerous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;nu va asteptati sa vina cineva la voi daca sunteti intr-un grup mixt/ mare; circulati in grupuri mici, de 2-3-4 persoane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;este mult mai tare sa va dati pe muzica - gasiti un loc aglomerat, unde se pune muzica misto (gen prodigy, dnb, sau oricum, ceva cu ritm)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;mai faceti pauze din cand in cand - nu o sa intre nimeni in vorba cu voi cand fluturati poiurile de colo-colo, it's just basic preservation instinct&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;La sfarsitul zilei, daca vi se pare ca sfatul meu nu v-a ajutat in nici un fel, verificati daca nu va dor cumva mainile de la poiuri &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt; Stiti ca febra musculara e un semn al tonifierii corpului, nu? Just stick to it and if it doesn't work at first, at least you'll get a great body out of it &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/01.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2901030229749276007?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2901030229749276007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2901030229749276007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2901030229749276007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2901030229749276007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/09/headcount-33-and-counting.html' title='headcount: 33. and counting'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-1272111906697297620</id><published>2010-05-14T21:18:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T21:26:23.524+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>trebuie sa va spun ceva</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mama mi-a spus de cand eram mica: sunt branza buna in burduf de caine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Eu sunt omul care trebuie impins de la spate ca sa faca ceva. Nu invat fara sa stiu exact care mi-e beneficiul, nu spal rufe decat atunci cand nu mai am cu ce sa ma mai imbrac, nu ma implic intr-un proiect decat atunci cand sunt convinsa ca, fara mine, acel proiect nu iese ok sau cand mi se cere, sau cand am eu nevoie de el. De aia faptul ca "trebuie" sa fac ceva, pentru mine, e motivatorul principal. Eu, fara un deadline, nu pot lucra. Mi-e lene sa ma duc la cumparaturi, dar daca nu mai am mancare acasa, atunci chiar trebuie, si ce dracu', doar n-o sa mor de foame - ma duc la mcdonalds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cand mama imi zicea vorba cu branza, eu saream mereu ca nu e multumita de nimic. Daca eu reusesc sa imi rezolv treburile cu un minim de efort, de ce sa depun mai mult? De-aia, in loc sa citesc lectia din manual, intelegeam la ora si imi faceam temele pe baza a ceea ce imi aduceam aminte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dintotdeauna mi-am dorit sa ma implic activ in actiuni ale societatii civile. Dar asta nu e ceva ce &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;trebuie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; sa fac, ar fi fost nevoie sa-mi creez singura motivatia. Unul dintre visurile mele e sa ajut la construirea unor case pentru oamenii din lumea a treia. Dar, cat timp nu-mi va spune cineva sa fac asta, probabil nu ma voi indemna singura.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;De-aia am cel mai bun job din lume. Sunt platita pentru a face o diferenta in societate. Si pentru ca sunt platita, stiu ca &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;trebuie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;. Jobul meu ma indeamna sa ma implic activ in proiecte, sa ajut, sa gasesc solutii, si mai ales sa fac asta folosindu-mi propriile skilluri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mi-a placut dintotdeauna sa citesc. Imi petreceam verile, la tara, citind la soare pe scarile casei. Pe de alta parte, nici nu aveam altceva mai interesant si mai simplu de facut - televizor nu, internet nu, oameni de varsta mea cu care sa interactionez nu. In scoala si in liceu, citeam seara, inchisa in camera mea, dar asta pentru ca nu imi placea sa petrec timp alaturi de ai mei, televizorul era mereu dat pe stiri, calculatorul era in sufragerie, iar prietenii mei erau toti in oras sau pe mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am ajuns la facultate si deja nu mi se mai spunea sa citesc. Trebuia sa vreau eu asta. Dar seara veneam acasa de la cursuri sau de la job si nu mai aveam energie – adormeam cu cartea in mana dupa primele 10 minute. Am inceput sa citesc in metrou sau cand asteptam pe cineva, dar asta doar cand aveam geanta indeajuns de incapatoare pentru o carte. Si iata cum am ajuns eu sa nu mai citesc mai mult de 2 carti pe an.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Si apoi am ajuns sa lucrez intr-o biblioteca. Nu am citit nici o carte de acolo pana nu am dat de cei de la &lt;a href="http://www.orasulciteste.ro/"&gt;Lecturi Urbane&lt;/a&gt;. De multe ori, umblam cu cate o carte in geanta si uitam cum se numeste. Dar am mers la o editie a Lecturilor, pentru ca am fost invitata. Stiam ca trebuie sa citim ostentativ in metrou. Mi-am luat frumusel o carte de la serviciu si am facut exact asta. Si mi-a placut, pentru ca, pe langa faptul ca citeam, simteam ca ma implic social si ca ajut. Si am mai fost si la alte editii, in fiecare luna, si de fiecare data am avut cu mine o alta carte. Pentru ca, intre timp, pe cea dinainte o terminasem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Inca nu am ajuns sa citesc acasa, inainte de culcare. In general, tot timpul meu e dedicat jobului, mai ales mental. Nu conteaza unde sunt, ma gandesc mereu la ce trebuie sa fac la birou, la ce idei trebuie sa-mi mai vina, la ce am uitat sa fac azi. Inca nu imi petrec weekendurile iesind in parc cu o carte, ca sa citesc, desi cred ca in curand &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;va trebui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;. Dar acum imi aleg gentile in functie de dimensiunea cartii pe care o citesc si sunt la a patra (sau a cincea, nu mai stiu) carte pe anul asta. Stiu ca nu ma mai poate obliga nimeni sa fac ceva, sau ca nu multi sunt cei ce imi pot argumenta de ce &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;trebuie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; sa fac ceva, asa ca incerc eu sa imi impun, sa-mi construiesc contextele care sa ma oblige sa fac ce stiu ca e bine sa fac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Si se vede. Omul care citeste e diferit de cel care nu citeste. Vorbeste mai corect gramatical, frazele lui sunt mai legate, au mai mult sens, vocabularul lui e mai elevat. Poate purta o conversatie pe tot felul de subiecte. Eu invat multe lucruri din carti, si asta pentru ca cei de la Lecturi Urbane ma tot invita, si atunci eu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;trebuie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; sa ma duc. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-1272111906697297620?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/1272111906697297620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=1272111906697297620' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1272111906697297620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1272111906697297620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/05/trebuie-sa-va-spun-ceva.html' title='trebuie sa va spun ceva'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2542802905402167894</id><published>2010-04-01T14:28:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T16:34:06.272+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Top 5'/><title type='text'>va rog, multumesc, cu placere</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Top 5 reguli de eticheta in societate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;5. Cand mergi cu un grup pe un trotuar ingust, lasa loc pentru a putea trece pe langa tine si alti oameni. Nu toti tin neaparat sa fie spulberati de masinile de pe strada atunci cand incearca sa treaca pe langa voi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;4. Daca te grabesti, nu te baga in fata cuiva care sta la coada. Cere permisiune si, daca nu esti lasat, cumpara-ti de la alt magazin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;3. In supermarket, nu bloca un culoar intreg in timp ce te uiti la produse. Unii oameni nu fac o religie din shopping si se grabesc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;2. Daca nu esti sigur in ce directie trebuie sa te indrepti si vrei sa intrebi pe cineva pe strada sau in statie, alege pe cineva care nu are casti in ureche. E ca si cum ai intreba pe cineva care vorbeste la telefon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;1. Daca ai parul lung (baiat sau fata fiind), cand mergi in club sau la concert, prindeti-l in coada si nu da din cap haotic in aglomeratie. Nu e fun sa fii biciuit de coama cuiva care danseaza de parca ar fi fost electrocutat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2542802905402167894?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2542802905402167894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2542802905402167894' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2542802905402167894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2542802905402167894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/04/va-rog-multumesc-cu-placere.html' title='va rog, multumesc, cu placere'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6215460701262706099</id><published>2010-03-26T20:43:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T21:00:20.087+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Cine salveaza pe cine?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Societatea ne invata ca barbatul este salvatorul femeii. El este cel care vaneaza, cel care are forta fizica necesara sa protejeze o fiinta mai slaba, cum e femeia, el este cel care are un job mai bine platit si tot el are cele mai periculoase joburi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe de alta parte, un prieten mi-a spus odata, mai in gluma, mai in serios, ca este datoria sfanta a unei femei sa isi salveze barbatul. Se referea la a-l salva prin schimbare, la a-i arata ce greseli face in relatie cu ea si cu ceilalti si la a-l ajuta sa repare greselile. Vorbim de o salvare emotionala, mai mult decat orice altceva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu alte cuvinte, sarcinile sunt impartite. Barbatul ma ajuta pe mine sa supravietuiesc, eu il ajut pe barbat sa devina o fiinta cu suflet mai frumos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adevarul este ca eu mi-am asumat acest rol de salvator pentru oamenii din jurul meu. Chiar si atunci cand nu aveam de la ce sa-i salvez. Le gaseam eu probleme si ii ajutam sa le rezolve. Imi sta in fire sa inteleg defectele oamenilor si sa vreau sa ii ajut sa si le repare. Chiar daca, uneori, acei oameni nu considera ca acele caracteristici sunt defecte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fine, acum mi-e clar ca nu orice e diferit de ideea mea de perfectiune inseamna ca e gresit. Uneori, lucrurile sunt doar altfel, fara grad de comparatie. Si acum nu mai vreau sa fiu salvatorul nimanui. Nu mai vreau sa educ. Nu mai vreau sa bandajez, sa motivez, sa alin. Nu mai pot sa repar oameni defecti. Pe mine cine ma repara?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6215460701262706099?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6215460701262706099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6215460701262706099' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6215460701262706099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6215460701262706099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/03/cine-salveaza-pe-cine.html' title='Cine salveaza pe cine?'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5132391218933091564</id><published>2010-03-09T22:01:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T23:53:56.967+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='english'/><title type='text'>100 reasons why it's great to be a woman - really?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;As I promised, &lt;a href="http://www.blippitt.com/100-reasons-why-its-great-to-be-a-woman"&gt;the list&lt;/a&gt; about womanhood:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1. We can get laid anytime we want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Especially if you're fat, ugly or old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/34.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;2. We never have to buy our own drinks at the bar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;You still pay a price for those drinks though. You might not remember in the morning, but you do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;3. We pee sitting down so it's easier to pass out on the toilet when  you're drunk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Yeah, that's a skill which comes in handy several times a day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/19.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;4. We get out of speeding tickets by crying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;You also creep everybody out by crying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;5. We get out of speeding tickets by showing a little cleavage or  leg. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;And how many showers do you have to take to wash the hoe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;off after that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;6. We can sleep our way to the top of the class. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;And still keep your record for stupid. Whoo hoo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;7. We get to shop at Victoria's Secret. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men get to take &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Victoria's Secret lingerie off you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/27.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;8. We can marry rich and then not have to work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;And men can cheat your lazy ass with a 20-something girl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;9. We never have to pay when we go out on dates. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men never have to offer sex for a drink. They have real jobs to get money to buy things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;10. Men take us on all expense paid trips - all we have to do is sleep  with them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Again with the prostituting. Great. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;11. Men light our cigarettes for us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women bring guys beer because they don't want to get off the couch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;12. Men hold the door open for us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women cook for men.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;13. We pout better. (those puppy dog eyes always work!) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men just don't care&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;. &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/19.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;14. We're cuter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;If by cute you mean lunatic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;15. We lie better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;And how is that a virtue? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/06.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;16. We're better manipulators. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Not by being subtle, I see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;17. We always end up sleeping in the bed when we fight with our other  halves - you guys get the couch. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;And who gets lonely, women in the big empty bed, or men on the couch watching TV?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;18. We always have food in the fridge. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;They invented take out in men's universe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/34.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;19. We don't worry about losing our hair. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men are not afraid of getting wrinkles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;20. We always get to choose the movie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men get to choose the TV. And the car. And other alike. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;21. We don't have to mow the lawn. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;You just have to clean the house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;22. We don't have to take out the garbage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men don't have to do the dishes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;23. We don't have to paint the house or walls. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men don't either. There's professionals you can pay for that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;24. PMS - yet another excuse to bitch at men. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men don't need excuses - they can be mean anytime, anyplace, anyway.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;25. Cosmopolitan.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Playboy. And even more - Hustler. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/34.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;26. We can con our way out of anything - not just dig ourselves  deeper into a hole. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;But some of you are just that dumb.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;27. Men unlock our side of the car first - a real bonus when its cold. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Can't argue with that one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;28. PMS is a legal defense for murder. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;In Crazyland?!? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;29. Men are like tiles, lay 'em right the first time you can walk all  over em forever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women are like socks - men can wear them once and throw them away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;30. We can masturbate more in a day than men. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;But you don't. So why brag?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;31. 2 words - multi orgasmic! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Wel... yes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/04.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;32. We don't have to constantly adjust our genitals. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Just your bra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;33. Sweat is sexy on us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Let's get something straight: sweat is smelly and sticky. On both men and women. Mkay?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;34. We never run out of excuses. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Oh yeah? What's your excuse for getting old and wrinkly?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;35. You guys may get to think about sex 200 times a day, but we could  be having it that often. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;I say again: why brag if you don't do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;36. Doggie style - that way we get to watch the game, too. (Ok that's  nasty) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Yeah, great.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/19.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;37. We get expensive jewelry as gifts that we NEVER have to give  back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Depends whose bitch you are, you can't get jewelry from just anybody.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;38. We get candy, flowers and jewelry all the time because men screw  up so often. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men get to cheat and get drunk in exchange for those flowers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;39. We can give "the look" that will make any man want tocower in the  corner. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;That rarely works, because men don't care.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;40. Women are cleaner. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;True that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;41. Women have more than one erogenous zone. (in case you guys didn't  know) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;What's the use if men can't find them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;42. We're better arguers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;"You're wrong!!!!" - yeah, great argument&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;. &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/35.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;43. We don't always have to think with our genitals. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men don't have to think with their hearts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;44. Massage!!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;How is that different for men?! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;45. We're better parents. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men are better drivers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;46. We never have to sit home alone on a weekend night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;You make me laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;47. There's never a shortage of ready, willing, and able men. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Except if you're over 30 or overweight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;48. We're flexible. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;As in bendy? That's a good thing for men too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;49. When women get upset, we don't destroy property or hurt people -  we just take it out on the world in general because we can. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;No you can't. You just think you do in Crazyland.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;50. Menopause - thank heaven we're not capable of having children  after we're 50. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Some of you should not be capable to have kids before that either, with the gene pool being so infested.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;51. Menstruation - just another excuse to use so we can say"no" to  sex. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Sure, PMS, back aches and everything else are worth another excuse to say no to sex. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;52. Men in uniform. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women in uniform.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/34.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;53. We look great in there clothes. They look crazy in ours. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Would you go to work in their clothes? Then stop saying you look great in them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;54. We can just roll over and go to sleep after we masturbate because  there's no messy cleanup. &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/18.gif" /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;I bet men actually envy women for that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;55. It generally takes us less to get drunk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Which means less time for men to get you in bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;56. We have a higher tolerance to pain. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men have a higher ability to cause pain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;57. We often get to cut in line. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Just you rude women.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;58. Most women actually look good in short shorts - men DON'T. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Most women? Really??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;59. Better tips. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Better paid jobs, statistically proven.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/19.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;60. Women who don't wear underwear are considered sexy and wild, when  men do it, it's rather disgusting. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Lack of personal hygiene on both parts. So no go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;61. We have mastered civilized eating - we don't embarrass our  friends or make loud bodily noises in public. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;I can't argue with that one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;62. Women can go a day without showering or shaving and not look or  smell disgusting - thank heaven for long pants and perfume! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Why do women use perfume and make-up? Because they stink and they're ugly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/18.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;63. We can connive men into doing our homework, writing our papers or  carrying our books anytime we want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Yes, in exchange for sex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/34.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;64. We don't have excessive amounts of body hair. (Most of us) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men don't have to shave it all off though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;65. We don't spend 45 minutes on the toilet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;You spend twice as much in front of the mirror.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;66. Men will pay us for sex. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;OMG, again with that??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/11.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;67. Smoking the seeds in marijuana doesn't make us sterile. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Who cares about whether they're sterile when they're high??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;68. We can throw a punch at a man and not get hit in return. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;You might just be surprised though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;69. Men may fantasize about having sex with more than one woman at a  time, but we can have sex with an entire football team at once if we  want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;At once - really?? Ouch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;70. Men walk on the side of the sidewalk closest to the road so that  if a car hits us, he gets hurt not us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Is that all you've got??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;71. Women sweat less. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;It's just as bad &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;when &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;you stink. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;72. Women smell better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men generally get to enjoy that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;73. When women make their boyfriends mad, we don't have to waste  money on flowers or cards - a blow job and sex fixes all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Well... kinda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/04.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;74. Men are more often serial killers, thieves, rapists and cheats. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;What a great world to be a woman in! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;75. Women don't get the humor in the three stooges. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;And why is that great?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;76. Women have three accessible holes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Ok, first of all: that's not lady-like talk. Second of all: men fill those wholes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;, don't they?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;77. We don't get embarrassed when buying tampons. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;But you get creepy looks from the salesman when you buy condoms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;78. We're better gossips. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Actually, no. But that's a good thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;79. We have better fashion sense. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Were the greatest fashion designers men or women, I wonder?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;80. We're better shoppers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;As in... you spend more money, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;81. We don't have to make fools out of ourselves to impress a man. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Ahmmm... yes, you generally do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;82. Our friends don't pick on us if we aren't sleeping with anyone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;That's just men's way of encouraging a friend to reach his potential.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;83. Men don't know what our 'girl talk' is all about (and I'm not  gonna tell you) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;It's pretty clear what's the main topic just by reading this list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;84. We're all sitting on a gold mine - we know it and use it to our  extreme advantage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;WTF?? Did you already get to Crazyland??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;85. We don't have to drive when on a date. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;It's called a taxi, babe - and men don't have to either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;86. An ugly woman can use makeup and get a new hairdo to become  presentable - ugly men are just screwed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Ugly men can get rich. What can an old woman do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;87. Women can use the old "that mark on my neck is from a curling  iron burn" line. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Does that ever work?! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/06.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;88. Women know how fake it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men don't have to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;89. Women look better naked. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Ok, that's true, generally&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;90. We know that rhythm doesn't only pertain to dancing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Did you already buy a house in Crazyland?! What's that got to do with anything?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;91. When women are short, we're petite. When men are short, they're  just short. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;When men have a beer gut nobody cares, when women do, they're fat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;92. Women do less time for violent crimes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men get to be victims of violent crimes less often.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;93. Women don't have to worry about not being able to get it up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Ok, yeah, I guess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;94. An oblong vegetable is all we need for a good time any night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Ok, gross. An men don't need any props whatsoever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;95. Women's conversations generally consist of more than just "uh  huh, yep ok then bye". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;And their phone bills show exactly that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;96. Women don't need an excuse to be in a bad mood. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men don't either. Point being?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;97. Women never have to see combat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Men never have to give birth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;98. The remote control is not an extension of ourselves. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Make-up is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;99. Women are sexier. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Meh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and the 100th reason its better to be a woman - this one is  definitely worthy of reiteration:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;100. We can get laid ANYTIME, ANYWHERE, ANY WAY we want it! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Crazyland called. They want you to be their mayor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mkay, kids, now let's all kiss and make up &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/01.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5132391218933091564?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5132391218933091564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5132391218933091564' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5132391218933091564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5132391218933091564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/03/100-reasons-why-its-great-to-be-woman.html' title='100 reasons why it&apos;s great to be a woman - really?'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5082426705068799800</id><published>2010-02-15T20:20:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T21:33:55.211+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>100 reasons why it's great to be a guy - really?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Found &lt;a href="http://www.blippitt.com/100-reasons-why-its-great-to-be-a-guy"&gt;this list&lt;/a&gt; which talks why it's great to be a man. Let's see:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Phone conversations are over in 30  seconds flat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Which only means you save money on phone bills to spend more on video games. At least women interact with real people, not characters. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/34.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Movie nudity is virtually always  female. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Well, thank God for that. Then again, imagination is the best aphrodisiac, women don't need movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You know stuff about tanks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;I think women have discovered the Internet as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/34.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A 5-day vacation requires only one  suitcase.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women need only one suitcase as well. Maybe a slightly bigger one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/05.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Monday Night Football. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Everyday soaps. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You don't have to monitor your  friends' sex lives. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Cause if you did, you might pick up a few pointers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Your bathroom lines are 80%  shorter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Well... yes. You got us there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can open all your own jars. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women have a personal assistant who opens jars, doors, and any other boring activity like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Old friends don't give a crap  whether you've lost or gained weight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Old friends of women don't give a crap about that either. They point it out, they don't stop being your friend if your weight changes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dry cleaners and barbers don't rob  you blind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;As a woman, you can get out of tickets easier. I bet women save about the same as men.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;When clicking through the  channels, you don't have to stall at every shot of somebody crying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women don't have to stall for 5 minutes to see the score of a football match. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/31.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Your butt is never a factor in job  interviews.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Oh, really?? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;All your orgasms are real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; All women's feelings are real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A beer gut doesn't make you  invisible to the opposite sex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; No, but lack of a career does. Which one is harder to get, i wonder, a flat stomach or a career? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Guys in hockey masks don't attack  you (unless you smash 'em into the boards).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Well, that's just... do i need to dignify that with an answer? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/39.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You don't have to lug a bag of  useful stuff around everywhere you go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; If you guys admit it's useful, how come women "lug" it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You understand why "Stripes"  is funny. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;This must be a cultural thing, so i'll just assume it's wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/04.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can go to the bathroom without  a support group.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Yeah, that's true. Men find support in anybody who is already in the urinal, staring at them while they pee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Your last name stays put.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; If women are smart, so does theirs. We don't live in the Middle Ages anymore, you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can leave the hotel bed  unmade. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women can leave the hotel without paying &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/18.gif" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; (cause the men do).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;When your work is criticized, you  don't have to panic that everyone secretly hates you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women don't do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can kill your own food.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Women can pick their own food. And they are nice to the animals too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The garage is all yours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; The rest of the house belongs to women though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You get extra credit for the  slightest act of thoughtfulness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Women get extra credit for the slightest amount of sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You see the humor in "Terms  of Endearment".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Whoop-di-do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/31.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nobody secretly wonders whether  you swallow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Women don't have to worry whether the man will consider her endowed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/14.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You never have to clean a toilet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women never have to change a flat tire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can be showered and ready to  go in 10 minutes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Women can do that too. Then again, women never have to wait for men to get ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sex means never worrying about  your reputation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Mkay, there you have a point. But that situation will change eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Wedding plans take care of  themselves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Women have men who pay for wedding planners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If someone forgets to invite you  to something, he or she can still be your friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; That goes for women too. And last I checked, this wasn't 100 reasons why it's great to be a decent human being as opposed to crazy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/34.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Your underwear is $10 for a  three-pack. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Is there a manly equivalent for lace or the effect that it has on men? Or is that priceless?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The National College Cheerleading  Championship. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Rock bands and actors (most of them are men)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You don't have to shave below your  neck. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women don't have to shave above their neck. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Every day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/19.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;None of your co-workers has the  power to make you cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Again, this is not a list to differentiate crazy from stable. Goes for women too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You don't have to curl up next to  a hairy butt every night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Do all gay men shave their butts?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Plus men don't have to curl up to a woman with a scary face mask every night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If you're 34 and single, nobody  even notices.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Except all your extended family, all your married friends and your nosy boss. How is that different with women?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can write your name in the  snow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women can have a water fight and not feel gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can get into a nontrivial  pissing contest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Yeah, great, all women envy men because of that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/35.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Everything on your face gets to  stay its original color.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; How is that fun or great in any way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Chocolate is just another snack.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Beer is just another drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can be president...in this  lifetime. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women can too. They already &lt;a href="http://www.terra.es/personal2/monolith/00women2.htm"&gt;were&lt;/a&gt;, actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can quietly enjoy a car ride  from the passenger's seat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Women don't have to listen to any nagging from the men in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Flowers fix everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Sex fixes everything. And it doesn't cost any money either. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/04.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You never have to worry about  other people's feelings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Yes you do if you want to live in society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You get to think about sex 90% of  your waking hours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Women get to pretend that they don't think about sex that often. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/05.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can wear a white shirt to a  water park. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women can wear short shorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Three pairs of shoes is more than  enough. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women can live without video games or the latest in sound systems and home cinema systems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can eat a banana in a hardware  store. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women can do that and get the whole store for free. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/13.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can say anything ("Wow,  do my balls hurt!") and not worry about what people will think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Try saying that in a board meeting at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Foreplay is optional.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Sex is optional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Michael Bolton doesn't live in  your universe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Megan Fox doesn't live in women's universe either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nobody stops telling a good dirty  joke when you walk into a room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;When somebody does that when a woman walks in, it's out of respect. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It's a good thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can whip your shirt off on a  hot day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women's sweat is sexy, not stinky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You don't have to clean your  apartment if the meter reader's coming by.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women don't &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;have to&lt;/span&gt; either. It's just common sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You never feel compelled to stop a  pal from getting laid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Oh my God, society lies to men about what women do and men believe every word of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/18.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Car mechanics tell you the truth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Women don't need the truth, they just need their car fixed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You don't give a rat's ass if  anyone notices your new haircut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Women don't give a rat's ass if anybody notices their new car stereo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can quietly watch a game with  your buddy for hours without ever thinking, "He must be mad at  me." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Yeah, women have conversations instead of watching a game. Men win, definitely. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/25.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The world is your urinal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Enough with the pee stuff already. Can't men find anything better? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/31.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You never misconstrue innocuous  statements to mean your lover's about to leave you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Women never have to worry whether the sex was good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You get to jump up and slap stuff.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Monkeys do that too.&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Hot wax never comes near your  pubic area.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Razors don't come near women's jugular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;One mood, all the time. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That's great - for women. Men, on the other hand, have to stand the whole array of a woman's moods.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can admire Clint Eastwood  without starving yourself to look like him.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Ok, that doesn't make any sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You never have to drive on to  another gas station because this one's just too skeevy.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I think you're mistaking women for crazy people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You know at least 20 ways to open  a beer bottle.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Women just know one - ask the men to do it for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can sit with you knees apart  no matter what you're wearing.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Remember Basic Instinct? Can men do that? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Same work...more pay!&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Ok, true. Shame on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Gray hair and wrinkles only add  character. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And years, let's not forget years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You don't have to leave the room  to make an emergency crotch adjustment. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And that's why men have their fly open for everybody else too see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Wedding dress: $2,000; tuxedo  rental: $75.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Groom who pays for all this: priceless. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/04.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You don't care if someone's  talking about you behind you back.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Of course you do. You just have to hide it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;With 400 million sperm per shot,  you could double the Earth's population in 15 tries, at least in  theory. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Can men do that without at least one woman? Women can have babies without men - they just need their sperm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You don't mooch off others'  desserts. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Women get to mooch off others' desserts though. That's better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If you retain water, it's in a  canteen. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Beer retention&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is harder to get rid of.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The remote control is yours and  yours alone. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If you're alone in the room. If not, you'll have to share it, just like women do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;People never glance at your chest  when you're talking to them.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; That one's true. Men win and they get to be the jerks too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ESPN's SportsCenter.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Fashion TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can drop by to see a friend  without having to bring a little gift. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well, that's just inconsiderate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Bachelor parties whomp butt over  bridal showers. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That's just cause brides whomp grooms' butt afterward. But yeah, ok, you have your little victory there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You have a normal and healthy  relationship with your mother. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yeah, you wanna marry her (look up Oedip). That's really healthy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/33.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can buy condoms without the  shopkeeper imagining you naked.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Women can buy condoms without being considered whipped; men can't do the same with tampons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You needn't pretend you're  "Freshening up" to go to the bathroom.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; No, but they do go to the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;little &lt;/span&gt;boys' room. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/18.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If you don't call your buddy when  you say you will, he won't tell your other friends you've changed.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Crazy does not equal women. If we can agree on that, there's no argument anymore, now is there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Someday you'll be a dirty old man.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And everybody will be disgusted by you. Old ladies are nice though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You can rationalize any behavior  with the handy phrase "Screw it." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And women can't? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If another guy shows up at the  party in the same outfit, you just might become lifelong buddies.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Great, two schmucks being hit by a bomb is always better than one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Princess Diana's death was just  another obituary.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/11.gif" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Really, it's unrespectful to put that on the list. Plus men are insensitive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The occasional well-rendered belch  is practically expected.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Is this the 100-reasons-it's-great-to-be-a-redneck-list?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You never have to miss a sexual  opportunity because you're not in the mood.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Women never have to miss a sexual opportunity because the opposite sex is not in the mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You think the idea of punting a  small dog is funny. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;At least cruel men do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If something mechanical doesn't  work, you can bash it with a hammer or throw it across the room.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Women can get it to a plumber or a mechanic and get it fixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;New shoes don't blister, cut, and  mangle your feet.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Ok, true, but nobody has a men's feet fetish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Porn movies are designed with your  mind in mind.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Cause women's minds are equipped with their own imaginations. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/14.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You don't have to remember  everyone's birthdays and anniversaries.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Of course you don't, you just have to suffer the silent treatment when you forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Not liking a person doesn't  preclude having great sex with them.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Oh, you really don't know anything about women, do you?? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Your pals can be trusted never to  trap you with: "So...notice anything different?"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; ...But your significant other can't. And that's worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Baywatch. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Have you ever seen a Latin soap?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0mm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;There's always a game on  somewhere.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; There's always some sale somewhere. Of if there isn't, that's ok too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... who won?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A 100 reasons why it's great to be a woman with comments is coming right up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5082426705068799800?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5082426705068799800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5082426705068799800' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5082426705068799800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5082426705068799800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/02/100-reasons-why-its-great-to-be-guy.html' title='100 reasons why it&apos;s great to be a guy - really?'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7401637918656127457</id><published>2010-02-04T21:15:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T22:46:38.958+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>De 3 zile sunt nervoasa</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Si stiu ca ardeti de nerabdare sa aflati de ce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tineti minte cand &lt;a href="http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/09/oare-ce-facultate-trebuie-sa-faci-sa-sa.html"&gt;va povesteam&lt;/a&gt; despre felul in care m-am hotarat la ce master sa dau? A venit sorocul sa ma hotarasc sa-l si termin. Preferabil, inainte sa ma termine el pe mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cine a mai auzit de un master unde, daca nu ai 50% prezenta la curs, nu poti intra in examen? Haideti, by show of hands. Dap...asta e modalitatea prin care m-am ales cu prima restanta din viata mea. La sfarsitul primului an de master. La cursul tinut de prodecanita facultatii (care e si coordonatoarea masterului - mai are ea si alte calitati, dar, desigur, acestea sunt in momentul asta relevante).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bineinteles ca aceasta restanta m-a motivat. M-am dus frumusel la facultate la inceputul semestrului, in primul rand pentru a afla de ce am restanta. Am aflat - nu aveam prezenta. Profesoara mi-a spus "Eu cer macar 50% prezenta la curs, dar trec cu vederea si accept si 30%, dar tu nu aveai nici atat". Ok, pot accepta acest lucru (desi mi se pare absurd ca prezenta sa fie proba eliminatorie pentru un curs - what is this, prison?). Intrebarea mea era de ce nu am putut afla de restanta din timp. Tot anul, profesoara m-a considerat trepadusul ei si mi-a trimis mie pe mail toate bibliografiile si mesajele pentru tot masterul, ca eu sa le forwardez; o rugasem in mod expres sa-mi trimita rezultatele de la examen pe mail, iar ea imi promisese ca asa va face; si cu toate astea - nu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar stati, ca deja asta este old news. Incepe anul 2. Eu imi fac fix 30% prezenta la cursul minunatei profesoare, in ideea ca nu tin neaparat sa colectionez restante. Ajungem in sesiune. Avem si noi 2 examene amarate, 4 proiecte si unul la pratica. Toate cele 5 proiecte trebuie predate in aceeasi zi, la ore diferite (ca doar masteranzii supravietuiesc din invatatura de la facultate, nu or avea si ei un job de zi, iar noaptea sunt super-eroi care salveaza lumea prin citarea marilor autori invatati la cursuri). Unele proiecte trebuia si sustinute, deci more fun coming up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proiectele erau variate - dar trei dintre ele erau destul de stufoase, profesorii mergand pe firul logic ca oricum trebuie sa ne facem dizertatia, de ce nu am face un test run pentru ea prin proiectul lor? EU, pentru ca ma respect, am decis sa nu fac toate aceste proiecte. Mi-am facut doua. Vroiam sa fac trei, ultimul fiind cel pe care ar fi trebuit sa-l predau ca sa-mi iau restanta aia nenorocita, daaaaaar.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... in primul curs, profesoara mi-a explicat ce proiect trebuie sa fac pentru a-mi lua restanta. Mi-am si notat, constiincioasa fiind. Dar mi-am ratacit notitele. Si da-i si cauta-le. Nu le-am gasit. Mi-am calcat in picioare si ultima farama de respect de sine si i-am trimis un mail profei si am rugat-o sa-mi mai explice o data. Ce ziceti, mi-a raspuns? Nu, dar mi-a trimis numeroase mailuri intre timp pe care trebuia sa le redirectionez catre colegele de la master. In seara de dinainte de predarea proiectelor mi-am regasit notitele. Ma batea gandul sa-i trimit un mail profesoarei cu textul "Nu mai am nevoie, multumesc. Mi-am gasit notitele." Am fost, insa, o persoana decenta si m-am abtinut. Proiectul tot nu l-am facut, pentru ca ma durea capul si era 2 noaptea si, sincer, I don't give a rat's ass about this shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-am dus marti sa-mi prezit proiectul. Grupa mea intra la 16.30. Pentru majoritatea, in timpul programului de serviciu. Si pentru mine, de altfel, dar nah... am plecat mai devreme de la birou si la 16.25 eram acolo, intr-un suflet. Dar dintr-o regretabila incurcatura, n-am mai reusit sa intru cu prima grupa si am stat o ora intreaga pe hol, pana am putut intra cu a doua serie, al 17.30. Eu la 7 trebuia sa fiu la Unirii. Prezentarile ni se spusese ca vor dura 15 minute, insa intr-o ora se pare ca apucasera 2 persoane sa prezinte. Deci safe to say ca, daca nu ma bagam in fata cuiva, eu nu apucam sa prezint pana la 7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am intrebat si eu, ca doar nu dadeam cu parul, daca ma pot baga in fata. Am fost refuzata, pe motiv ca lumea era de la 12 in facultate. Am inteles. Atunci zic sa vorbesc cu profesoara, care mai avea o grupa si a doua zi, mai mica, si spusese cu tastatura ei, intr-un mail catre mine (si apoi catre tot masterul), ca ar fi bine daca s-ar muta cineva din prima zi in a doua.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Doamna profesoara, daca se poate... eu la ora 7 trebuie sa fiu la Unirii si cred ca pana atunci nu apuc sa prezint. Daca am permisiunea dumneavoastra, as vrea sa vin si maine pentru a-mi prezenta proiectul" (da, stiu, uneori sunt o pupincurista)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aaahham... stimata colega!" incepe ea, "Adica ma obligati sa va bag in fata altcuiva!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu:[wtf, nici intr-un vis urat nu m-as considera colega cu tine] "Nu, in nici un caz, tocmai, as vrea sa prezint maine ca sa nu ma bag acum in fata altcuiva"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Da, pai tu nici nu ai prezente, vad ca ai doar doua [aveam 3 sau patru, but who's counting?... oh, wait, she is!], deci nu ai 50% prezenta [wait... what now?! cand am ajuns la acest procent obligatoriu?]. Stii ca o sa trebuiasca sa mai vii si in mai, o sa fie un examen oral din toata materia... Dar de ce nu te-ai programat pentru maine de la inceput?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu: [&amp;amp;!#@?$] " ... Pentru ca mi-am inchipuit ca de la 4 jumate pana la 7 e timp destul ca sa-mi sustin prezentarea"  [&amp;amp;!#@?$]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Bine, vino maine!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Doar daca este ok..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Vino maine!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Bine, multumesc"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci sa inteleg. Mi s-a spus ca imi trebuie 30% prezenta ca sa intru in examen. Vin la 30% din cursuri. Vin la examen. Pe langa sustinerea examenului, trebuie sa vin si la restanta pentru ca nu am 50% prezenta. Practic vin la examen ca sa mi se permita sa vin la restanta. Something's not adding up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bun, vin a doua zi, imi sustin proiectul, ultima (ca doar nu era sa ma bag peste colegele mele care fusesera programate de la inceput atunci). Proiectul era foarte bun (stiu ce vorbesc, si nu e in nici un fel lauda la adresa mea - if you know what I mean), doar ca era un pic inovator, in sensul in care vorbea un pic despre politica, in masura in care cursul era despre traditii. Dar se plia. Plus ca ea interesant si bine structurat. Prezentarea mea a fost foarte ok (macar atata sa stiu si eu sa fac, sa vorbesc), iar la final nu a avut nimeni nici o intrebare, pentru ca acoperisem tot ce era de acoperit. Mai putin o obiectie pe care a avut-o profa, spunandu-mi basically ca proiectul meu e prea original. I-am explicat ca incerc sa fac totul cat mai original, moment in care she took it personal si a recunoscut sarcastic "Da, noi suntem mai ruginiti". Am dres-o explicandu-i ca "Nici gand, dar in mod normal incerc sa-mi apropriez informatiile, sa le trec prin filtrul meu si sa imi aduc contributia asupra lor", si ca "Background-ul meu educational si resursele la care am avut acces pentru acest proiect m-au indreptat in aceasta directie."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma rog, in final mi-a zis "Mdea... proiectul e de 9-10, dar nota iti va aparea in catalog de abia in mai, dupa ce te vei prezenta la restanta". Asta dupa ce alte persoane, cu si mai putine prezente, luasera deja 10 pe proiect, no strings attached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cam asta ar fi. Acuma solutia mea ar fi sa renunt la master. Mi se pare prea mare bataia de cap. Nu este un master care sa-mi foloseasca vreodata. Asteptarile mele, modeste de altfel, au fost grav inselate, iar domeniul nu e unul in care pot sau vreau sa-mi croiesc o cariera. Nu l-am platit, deci nu am mustrari de constiinta ca as fi facut risipa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voi ce ziceti?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7401637918656127457?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7401637918656127457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7401637918656127457' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7401637918656127457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7401637918656127457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/02/de-3-zile-sunt-nervoasa.html' title='De 3 zile sunt nervoasa'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4364015156033537289</id><published>2010-01-25T23:56:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T23:59:59.281+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Sunt unica pe pamant</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Este clar, demonstrabil si de netagaduit. Nu mai e nimeni ca mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt convinsa ca am fost singura din tot Bucurestiul, ba nu, rectific - din toata tara - care umbla azi pe strazi in fusta (scurta) la cele 187 de grade sub zero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;q.e.d.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4364015156033537289?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4364015156033537289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4364015156033537289' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4364015156033537289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4364015156033537289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/01/sunt-unica-pe-pamant.html' title='Sunt unica pe pamant'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7013840454164212630</id><published>2010-01-19T10:18:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T10:44:06.615+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Men are easy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Uneori sunt foarte fericita pentru ca sunt fata. Fetele sunt greu de multumit. Nu doar fiecare in parte - si asta e greu, multe dintre ele sunt pretentioase &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;(vreau cercei, vreau o casa, de ce nu vii sa ma iei cu masina de la serviciu in fiecare seara, nu mai petrece atata vreme la calculator si spala si tu vasele alea, de ce nu ma duci la restaurant mai des, la vara vreau sa mergem in tenerife, mi-ai facut un singur cadou de ziua mea, de parca nu stiai ca imi doresc mai multe lucruri)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;. Dar mi se par greu de multumit ca tagma. Pentru ca fiecare vrea altceva. De cele mai multe ori, nici noi nu stim ce vrem, dar ne prefacem si pana la urma tot baietii pica prost. Ganditi-va, sta un tip intr-o relatie, ii invata fetei toate tabieturile, pretentiile and basically everything that makes her tick, apoi se despart. Now what? Trebuie s-o ia de la capat. Si urmatoarei n-o sa-i mai placa sa faca dragoste dimineata, inainte sa plece la birou, sau o sa vrea ca duminica seara sa stea mereu acasa, iar ziua ei de iesit cu fetele va fi sfanta, indiferent de ce altceva s-ar intampla atunci.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dar barbatii, nu. Pot fi greu de multumit individual, dar ca tagma isi pastreaza aceleasi standarde. Nu le place sa vorbeasca dupa sex, telecomanda sta intotdeauna la ei, iar daca mai stii si cateva chestii pe care le poti face ca sa-i dai gata,atunci tot ce-ti ramane e sa poti profita de ceea ce-ti ofera.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In primul rand, e foarte usor sa-ti dai seama cand un tip este suparat. De cele mai multe ori, iti va spune. Eventual va tipa la tine. Uneori, o sa iti spuna, dupa care se va imbufna. Niciodata nu o sa taca inainte de a-ti semnala ca ai calcat in strachini. In schimb, fetele sunt imprevizibile. Iti pot spune calm, pot urla la tine, se pot imbufna. Sau, then again, pot tacea, ca mai apoi sa le sara tandara pentru ca el nu si-a amintit sa-i spuna ca fusesera reduceri la Zara. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Si-apoi, o data ce stii ca el e suparat si de ce, e foarte usor sa te ierte. Ii explici logic, ca la matematica; daca asta nu merge, il rogi sa te ierte si ii spui cum te vei revansa; and if everything else fails, you can always offer him sex.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sunt cateva lucruri ale unui tip de care nu trebuie sa te atingi: calculatorul sau consola de jocuri (mai ales daca nu stii ce faci), masina, mama, prietenii si egoul. Atata vreme cat nu exista conflicte intre tine si aceste lucruri, tu vei fi mereu pe primul loc pentru el. Cum te certi cu careva, te poti astepta ca ordinea normala a lucrurilor sa fie data peste cap si sa fie declarat al treilea razboi mondial.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Poate fetele nu tin atat de mult la masina. Ar putea tine, insa, la o gama intreaga de lucruri - cutia cu amintiri din liceu, o esarfa, tenul lor, un inel pe care inca nu l-au primit, felul in care arata dimineata,cand se trezesc, sau copilul nenascut al vreunei prietene. So basically anything. Fetele se ataseaza mult mai repede, i guess.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Tipii sunt usor de multumit culinar. In principiu mananca orice. Si la cat de rar se mai gasesc fete care stiu sa fiarba apa, o omleta dimineata iti va castiga puncte cu oricine. Fetele - nu. Ele tin la silueta. Ele vor sa manance la restaurant, si chiar si atunci, numai anumite mancaruri le plac. Iar daca mananca acasa, nu e de ajuns ca mancarea sa fie gustoasa; masa trebuie aranjata astfel incat sa fie o atmosfera romantica. Si doamne fereste sa contina aceeasi paleta de culori ca si outfitul ei!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cand isi doresc ceva, barbatii isi cumpara. It's as simple as that. Fetele, cand isi doresc ceva, isi pot cumpara, pentru ca sunt independente. Sau pot face aluzii pe langa barbati ca sa le cumpere ei. Sau le pot spune direct ce-si doresc. Sau pur si simplu se asteapta ca barbatii sa intuiasca singuri ce-si doresc si pun bot atunci cand barbatii nu le citesc gandurile.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;"  lang="IT"&gt;Bottom line:&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;fetele sunt o nebuloasa completa, de cele mai multe ori chiar si pentru ele insele. Insa daca stii sa faci un barbat fericit, stii sa-i faci pe toti fericiti. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's like having a key which fits every lock - how cool is that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7013840454164212630?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7013840454164212630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7013840454164212630' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7013840454164212630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7013840454164212630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/01/men-are-easy.html' title='Men are easy'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2880295329832356644</id><published>2010-01-09T03:43:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T03:48:53.181+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>am i too old for clubbing?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am fost in seara aceasta minunata intr-un club din Bucuresti in care mai fusesem. Nu mi-a placut niciodata foarte tare, dar de obicei ma distram. Bai, de data asta a fost absolut infect. Muzica - tot aia, dar parca nu aveam chef sa dansez. Which is weird, avand in vedere ca eu, in club, tot ce fac e sa dansez (si sa beau).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sper sa fie doar temporara situatia. N-as vrea sa devin o pensionara de la 23 de ani. Va rog sa imi interziceti sa tricotez sau sa fac alte activitati specifice batranetii, ca poate chiar o sa-mi placa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2880295329832356644?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2880295329832356644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2880295329832356644' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2880295329832356644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2880295329832356644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2010/01/am-i-too-old-for-clubbing.html' title='am i too old for clubbing?'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-382118154065219598</id><published>2009-11-17T19:08:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T19:15:38.709+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Destinul a hotarat</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Netul e plin de teste. Teste mai haioase, gen testul ala cu modul si momentul in care vei muri, de pe facebook, teste mai complicate, gen testele de iq, teste mai enervante, gen The Impossible Quiz, si &lt;a href="http://www.testvot.eu/"&gt;testul asta&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.testvot.eu/"&gt;Acesta&lt;/a&gt; este un test care te ajuta sa iti dai seama cu cine ar trebui sa votezi, bazandu-se pe platformele candidatilor. Intrebarile sunt explicate, pertinente si formulate bine, zic eu. Oricine este interesat de mai mult decat cu ce se imbraca maine la serviciu poate raspunde la intrebari.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-am facut si eu testul, ca sa stiu cu cine voi vota duminica. Si la final mi-a iesit ca principiile mele sunt cel mai apropiate de Traian Basescu si Sorin Oprescu, in aceeasi proportie. Asa ca... ce sa fac? O sa-i votez. Pe amandoi. Deodata.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-382118154065219598?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/382118154065219598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=382118154065219598' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/382118154065219598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/382118154065219598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/11/destinul-hotarat.html' title='Destinul a hotarat'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-1663047570289654701</id><published>2009-10-31T06:00:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T01:34:42.757+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ma trec ganduri'/><title type='text'>Totul e la trecut</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Nu l-a iubit niciodatata.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;A fost doar un baiat. Un baiat pe care il cunoscuse candva, unul din cei pe care ii cunostea mai bine decat ei pe ea. Un om caruia i-a scris o poezie, sau poate mai multe, dar el nu aflase asta niciodata. Un baiat cu care dansase o singura data. Sau, poate, de fapt, isi inchipuise. Nu i-a permis niciodata sa o aiba. Dar nici unul nu a avut-o cu adevarat, pentru ca, pana la urma, nici macar ei insesi nu stia sigur daca-si apartine. A fost un baiat pentru care plangea in fiecare zi, desi nu recunostea asta. Pana la urma, a incetat sa mai planga. De tot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Ii ramasese in suflet. El le slefuise portretul tuturor celor care au urmat dupa el. Poate de-aia nici unul nu a fost ceea ce trebuia sa fie. Isi inchipuia, uneori, ca si el se gandeste la ea. Poate credea ca ea fusese sansa lui la fericire? Desi, probabil, de-abia o mai tinea minte. Il vedea peste tot, cu toate ca el nu era nicaieri si vietile lor au fost mereu paralele. Nu mai stia nimic de el de atata vreme...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Nu a incetat niciodata sa il iubeasca.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-1663047570289654701?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/1663047570289654701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=1663047570289654701' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1663047570289654701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1663047570289654701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/10/totul-e-la-trecut.html' title='Totul e la trecut'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-8803611179546801369</id><published>2009-10-29T11:23:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T01:28:59.873+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Mi-am pierdut identitatea</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Din cand in cand, ma plictisesc de cum arat in poza de buletin - asa ca mi-l pierd. Prima data mi l-am pierdut prin clasa a zecea. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Te-ai gandi ca la 23 de ani sunt un pic mai grijulie decat la 15 ani, un pic mai ocupata si ca prefer sa nu imi pierd buletinul, ca sa nu trebuiasca sa interactionez cu functionarii tarii ca sa-mi fac altul. Dar te-ai gandi prost. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Sigur, dupa ce intr-un an de zile mi-am schimbat domiciliul, locul de munca, look-ul si pretty much everything else about me, era doar normal sa imi schimb si buletinul, nu? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Mda. Deci il declar nul. Ca si capul meu, de altfel, numai ca pe-ala nu pot sa mi-l pierd (dar sa nu fiti suprinsi daca in curand gasesc o metoda sa mi-l ratacesc si pe-ala).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Update: dap, mi-am gasit buletinul. Alarma falsa. Puteti sa nu-l mai cautati.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-8803611179546801369?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/8803611179546801369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=8803611179546801369' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/8803611179546801369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/8803611179546801369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/10/mi-am-pierdut-identitatea.html' title='Mi-am pierdut identitatea'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6092116303006311878</id><published>2009-10-16T03:27:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T03:36:24.776+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Ti-am luat frigider si tot de mana speli</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Am fost luni la teatru. Mai exact, la Descult in parc, cu Stefan Banica Jr., regizat tot de el. Bine, nu m-am dus pentru el, m-am dus pentru piesa. Filmul omonim, cu Robert Redford si Jane Fonda e filmul meu clasic preferat, si am fost curioasa daca jupuiesc de viu scenariul romanii. Nu l-au jupuit, a fost chiar foarte dragut, in unele scene chiar mai funny decat in film. Per total, tot filmul mi-a placut mai mult, ca Jane Fonda a facut un rol mult mai bun decat Oana Ioachim. Stefan Banica Jr. s-a prezentat foarte bine. De exemplu, scena de final, cu Paul (Banica/ Redford) beat, mi s-a parut mai haioasa pe scena.  Va pun mai jos scena din film, ca daca va place asta, sigur o sa va placa mai mult aia de la teatru:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/26xrm_RiAbU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/26xrm_RiAbU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;In rest, toata lumea e ok?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6092116303006311878?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6092116303006311878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6092116303006311878' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6092116303006311878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6092116303006311878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/10/ti-am-luat-frigider-si-tot-de-mana.html' title='Ti-am luat frigider si tot de mana speli'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2034679358338120083</id><published>2009-09-29T09:52:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T10:01:33.502+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Exercitiu</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sa facem un exercitiu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inchipuiti-va dulapul vostru laaaarg deschis astfel incat sa vedeti tot ce-i in el. Scoateti din dulap tot ce va place mai mult si ce purtati mai des si puneti deoparte. Cat de plin a ramas dulapul? Daca raspunsul este "pliiiiin", atunci e cazul sa cititi la linkul &lt;a href="http://www.serendipity-tea.ro/blog-ceainaria-serendipity/"&gt;asta&lt;/a&gt;, sa luati toate hainele, gentile si accesoriile pe care nu le mai purtati (dar care sunt intr-o stare buna) si sa veniti la un yard sale. Marea Evadare din Dulap, la ceainaria Serendipity, de sambata (3 octombrie), este exact ceea ce asteptati. Mai aveti pana maine, inclusiv, sa va inscrieti (a fost prelungit deadline-ul).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca raspunsul la intrebarea aia cu plinatatea dulapului este "gol", atunci e cazul sa cititi si voi la acelasi &lt;a href="http://www.serendipity-tea.ro/blog-ceainaria-serendipity/"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; si sa veniti sambata, la Serendipity, sa va mai imbogatiti garderoba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be there or be square!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2034679358338120083?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2034679358338120083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2034679358338120083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2034679358338120083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2034679358338120083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/09/exercitiu.html' title='Exercitiu'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2843928831155468601</id><published>2009-09-22T22:34:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T22:37:34.025+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Ma plictisesc barbatii feminini</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Printr-o conjunctura, particip la fiecare intalnire &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.empower.ro/live/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Empower Live&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; (I told you I had the greatest job ever), iar lunea asta s-a discutat despre relatii. Mai mult despre faptul ca exista doua energii, cea masculina si cea feminina, in fiecare om, una fiind dominanta, dar netinand neaparat cont de sex. Masculinul e cel care e orientat spre scop si cauta libertatea cu orice pret. Femininul este exploratorul, cel care cauta iubire.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Exista si unele femei masculine (traditional, mai putine, insa exista), care in mod natural atrag barbatii femini, pentru ca se completeaza (asa cum barbatii masculini atrag femeile feminine). Femeia masculina e autoritara, protectiva, independenta financiar, iar barbatul feminin e visator, pune accent pe aspectul fizic si ii convine sa fie intretinut, sa piarda timpul pe calculator, de exemplu. Din pacate, barbatii masculini nu prea sunt atrasi de femeile masculine, iar cele care cauta un astfel de barbat se pare ca, deep down inside, isi doresc sa fie feminine, insa asteapta sa li se demonstreze ca exista cineva indeajuns de puternic pentru a le domina.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Which gets me to my two questions:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1. Ce tip de energie va domina pe voi?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;2. Cati barbati masculini cunoasteti (cu exemple)?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2843928831155468601?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2843928831155468601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2843928831155468601' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2843928831155468601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2843928831155468601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/09/ma-plictisesc-barbatii-feminini_22.html' title='Ma plictisesc barbatii feminini'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2408982466672003594</id><published>2009-08-25T16:45:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T17:18:00.181+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>I'm a sucker for helping people</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am niste prieteni care pur si simplu nu-mi mai dau pace. Adica sunt amenintata ca intrerupem prietenia, chestii d-astea. Din fericire, am gasit o scapare, si anume sa fac o fapta buna, dezinteresata si fara nici o obligatie -  sa promovez un concert al unei violoniste romance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Povestea este urmatoarea - Cristina Beteringhe doreste sa studieze vioara la Prince Klaus Conservatory din Olanda, dar nerusinatii de acolo nu ofera burse. Cum stim cu totii ca banii nu cresc pe maidane, sau daca asa fac, unii ii iau pe toti inainte sa-i mai gasim si noi, tanara aceasta strange bani pentru a nu trebui sa cante pe la colturile de strada din Olanda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa ca s-a gandit sa impuste doi iepuri dintr-o data: ne incanta urechile si castiga un ban cinstit. Organizeaza un concert, adica, impreuna cu alti cativa muzicieni, iar banii castigati din bilete vor fi folositi pentru jointuri in Olanda (sau ma rog, poate pentru mancarea cu care va supravietui acolo).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ca sa ne placa si noua ce auzim, concertul o sa contina muzica pe care o poate recunoaste orice afon, ca de exemplu piese clasice cunoscute, preluari dupa melodii pop/ rock si doine romanesti. Exista doua tipuri de bilete - de 50 de lei si de 25 de lei (dar really, alea de 25 de lei sunt doar pentru amarasteni) si procedura e in felul urmator: intrati pe blogul &lt;a href="http://violinconcert.blogspot.com/"&gt;asta&lt;/a&gt;, apoi dati mail la violin_concert@yahoo.com, unde spuneti cate bilete vreti si de ce tip, primiti o confirmare pe mail, dupa care platiti la fata locului pentru ele. Ca tot veni vorba, fata locului inseamna &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;2 septembrie (miercurea viitoare), la 20.30, la Centrul National al Dansului (cladirea TNB) - Sala Ronda, etaj 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Asa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;cum mi s-a urat si mie, sa aratam lumii ca nu suntem niste manelisti (desi, daca ma gandesc mai bine, noi ii dam bani fetei asteia sa plece, si ramanem in tara doar cu manelistii. Anywayz.... too much thinking)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2408982466672003594?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2408982466672003594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2408982466672003594' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2408982466672003594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2408982466672003594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-sucker-for-helping-people.html' title='I&apos;m a sucker for helping people'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2652436180484089708</id><published>2009-07-28T23:39:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T01:25:45.719+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Baieti de festival</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;object height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/59ef10f74abcf1.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/59ef10f74abcf1.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Timpuri Noi - Adeline&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/2c4aa3f1d99362.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/2c4aa3f1d99362.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Timpuri noi - Perfect&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="371" width="448"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/video/elizaioana/c13247cd060d66/0xe9eff4.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/video/elizaioana/c13247cd060d66/0xe9eff4.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="371" width="448"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Timpuri noi - Luca&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/video/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Vezi mai multe video din Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/96d341d7f7a90b.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/96d341d7f7a90b.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Prodigy - Omen&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/dd09e3964e7f04.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/dd09e3964e7f04.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Prodigy - Smack My Bitch Up&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/bea9a8c0b7f45a.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/bea9a8c0b7f45a.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Suie Paparude - Armada Verbala&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/6c9f46037390b0.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.trilulilu.ro/audio/elizaioana/6c9f46037390b0.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="46" width="448"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Suie Paparude - Cea mai buna zi&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio Muzica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2652436180484089708?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2652436180484089708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2652436180484089708' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2652436180484089708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2652436180484089708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/07/baieti-de-festival.html' title='Baieti de festival'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-1211809431464146459</id><published>2009-06-27T18:30:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T18:44:02.879+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>viata in parole</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;pentru ca in ultimele 6 zile am avut si eu o singura data 5 minute libere legate, m-am gandit sa-mi ocup timpul cu o activitate intens cerebrala, anume sa ma gandesc la chestii pe care trebuie sa mi le amintesc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am numarat eu in treacat cam cate parole si pinuri stiu. roughly, peste 15. unele, evident, nici nu-s ale mele (da, stiu parolele altora, si daca ma enerveaza cineva, pot sa aflu ce parola vreau eu &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/16.gif" /&gt;), pe unele nici macar nu le folosesc (in principiu pe cele care nu-s ale mele, ca eu sunt fata finuta si onesta si nu iau bani de pe cardurile altora, nici nu spionez casute de mail si nici nu ma impersonez in altcineva pe mess). dar cert e ca le stiu. oricum, asa mi-am dat eu seama de ce nu-s in stare sa tin minte tot ce am de facut la serviciu, de exemplu, si de ce pentru vinerea asta a trebuit sa-mi fac programul cu activitati impartit pe intervale de 10 minute - pentru ca am creierul ocupat cu toate prostiile si nu mai am storage space (which is a phrase that seems to define my life lately).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si da, normal ca mi-a luat al dracului de mult sa-mi fac programul ala pe intervale de 10 minute, pentru ca era de la ora 9 dimineata la 11 seara (si mi-am inclus in el pana si pauze de tigara). dar fara el clar nu m-as fi descurcat. si culmea e ca i was on schedule the whole time &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/14.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. unde mi-s raportarile de la noaptea institutelor culturale? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/20.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-1211809431464146459?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/1211809431464146459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=1211809431464146459' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1211809431464146459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1211809431464146459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/06/viata-in-parole.html' title='viata in parole'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4985093886582798877</id><published>2009-06-22T22:56:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T23:11:17.687+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Call for action</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;dragii mosului, va fac program de culturalizare. vinerea asta  are sa fie noaptea institutelor culturale - am vazut eu, de fiecare data cand e o noapte d-asta alba se lasa cu imbulzeala si cu cozi, asa ca de ce n-ati face si voi asta, mai ales ca acuma sunt activitati diverse si mai fun. aveti un program complet al tuturor institutelor &lt;a href="http://www.icr.ro/noaptea_institutelor"&gt;aici&lt;/a&gt;, dar daca va e lene sa intrati pe link, va spun eu ca o sa fie concerte, proiectii de filme, degustari de mancare si alte chestii - de toate pentru toti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;normal ca si institutul meu are activitati programate si mi-ar placea sa veniti cu totii sa ma vizitati, dar ideea e in felul urmator - vreau sa va duceti acolo unde vi se pare cel mai interesant, iar apoi sa-mi raportati mie cum vi s-a parut &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/03.gif" /&gt; adica ma intereseaza ce activitate v-a atras mai mult, cum a fost organizarea, cata lume a fost pe-acolo. puteti chiar sa mergeti pe la toate, ca am inteles ca daca faceti asta si completati un puzzle o sa primiti si un premiu. avand in vedere ca eu voi sta toata noaptea intr-un singur loc, imi va fi destul de greu sa ma dedublez si sa-i spionez pe ceilalti, dar pentru asta ma bazez pe voi, voinicii mei &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/a/i/mesg/tsmileys2/50.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;asa ca hai, in misiune de recunoastere cu voi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4985093886582798877?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4985093886582798877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4985093886582798877' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4985093886582798877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4985093886582798877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/06/call-for-action.html' title='Call for action'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-3220050985779895850</id><published>2009-06-16T00:07:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T00:14:18.244+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Am furat</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;O mireasa. Cea mai frumoasa mireasa pe care am vazut-o vreodata, in realitate sau la televizor. Si-am si imbatat-o un pic, ca ce dracu...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, I've been to a pretty uneventful wedding (which is good, I guess).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah, and they both said "yes".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-3220050985779895850?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/3220050985779895850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=3220050985779895850' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3220050985779895850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3220050985779895850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/06/am-furat.html' title='Am furat'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-12876605197749894</id><published>2009-05-11T23:51:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T11:05:33.279+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Cine sa ma scoata la o savarina</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca eu trambitez sus si tare ca vreau sa ajut oamenii, insa pe dinauntru sunt o lepra si o nerusinata, mi-au luat-o &lt;a href="http://ela.citatdela.com/"&gt;altii&lt;/a&gt; inainte cu &lt;a href="http://www.dizabillove.ro/"&gt;proiecte&lt;/a&gt; de invidiat. &lt;a href="http://www.dizabillove.ro/"&gt;Dizabillove.ro&lt;/a&gt; este o idee foarte frumoasa, care, pe langa ca e complet altruista si utila, mai e si originala (cel putin pentru Romania) si are un potential de brand foarte mare (ca deh, io asa sunt programata sa evaluez orice idee).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I-am spus si personal, dar sa mai spun o data, &lt;a href="http://ela.citatdela.com/"&gt;Ela&lt;/a&gt; chiar ajuta oamenii printr-un proiect mare, important. Iar eu, care in cel mai bun caz gatesc petru prieteni sau am grija de ei cand se imbata, nu pot decat sa o invidiez. Ca ce sa fac si eu altceva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, dar uite, ca mi-a dat ocazia sa ajut la promovare, printre cei 2-3 cititori ai mei, transmitandu-mi o leapsa - cica sa raspund la intrebarea "Te-ai intalni(t) cu o persoana cu dizabilitati?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vreau sa fie clar inca de la inceput ca vorbesc ca un lup moralist, pentru ca, la viata mea, nu prea am fost inconjurata de persoane cu dizabilitati.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De ce sa mint, in functie de dizabilitate, cred ca cel putin la inceput nu as putea sa nu ma gandesc la o persoana si sa fac abstractie de asta. Nu in sensul ca "Domne, ala e surd, eu nu vreau sa stau langa el, ca poate se ia". Mai degraba "Domne, ala e surd, sa vad ce pot face sa nu se simta naspa in jurul meu", asta fiind probabil exact catalizatorul faptului ca omul s-ar simti aiurea. Dar sunt destul de sigura ca, dupa putin timp, as trece peste asta si m-as comporta normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acuma de intalnit, as in "dating" (eu nu gandesc in termeni de casatorie, so don't make me)... Nu stiu. Eu vreau sa fie cineva care sa ma stimuleze intelectual, emotional (si da, si fizic, dar nu in a "if you don't look like Brad Pitt u turn me off" kinda way). Atata vreme cat sunt indeplinite aceste conditii, prea putin imi pasa ca omul ala are o dizabilitate. Sunt eu destul de pretentioasa si asa, nu cred ca e cazul sa-mi mai adaug inca un criteriu pe lista.  Dar ca sa fiu sincera pana la capat, nu cred ca, de exemplu, as putea fi cu o persoana retarda (si aici ma refer la termenul medical, nu vreau sa jignesc pe nimeni), dar asta pentru ca pur si simplu am eu o problema si nu m-as putea pune in locul lui, asa cum, de altfel, nu ma inteleg bine cu copiii, pentru ca ma astept sa gandeasca la fel de matur ca mine si nu inteleg de ce nu fac asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am mai spus asta, chiar si pe blog, singurii oameni pe care ii desconsider sunt cei prosti. Sunt elitista, recunosc, in aceasta privinta. Altfel, nu am prejudecati. Deci da, eu cred ca m-as putea intalni cu o persoana cu dizabilitati. Dar trebuie sa ma impresioneze, la fel ca orice alta persoana, iar faptul ca are o dizabilitate nu-i castiga puncte, la fel cum nici nu-i pierde.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-12876605197749894?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/12876605197749894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=12876605197749894' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/12876605197749894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/12876605197749894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/05/cine-sa-ma-scoata-la-o-savarina.html' title='Cine sa ma scoata la o savarina'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6613169025736254007</id><published>2009-05-09T13:53:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T14:00:30.179+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Top 5'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='english'/><title type='text'>Why I have the greatest job ever</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Top 5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Coz I feel that what I do matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Coz I have the option of bossing people around. (I don't though)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Coz I get paid to learn about &lt;a href="http://www.empower.ro/live/"&gt;manipulation and other stuff&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Coz I go on business trips and I see the &lt;a href="http://www.jeg.ro/"&gt;local celebrity&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Coz on my way to the airport from my business trip, the taxi driver entertained me with witty conversation and at the end he just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;wouldn't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;take any tip. That totally made my day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6613169025736254007?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6613169025736254007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6613169025736254007' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6613169025736254007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6613169025736254007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-i-have-greatest-job-ever.html' title='Why I have the greatest job ever'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5548939433202921143</id><published>2009-04-14T15:27:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T15:45:27.679+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Spot the differences</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cine mai tine minte videoclipul de la Vama Veche pentru Epilog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OPD0H-qDkJM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OPD0H-qDkJM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si cine nu mai tine minte, se poate uita la un nou videoclip, al unui tip pe nume Tom Baxter, pentru melodia Better, si sigur isi va aminti de videoclipul pentru Epilog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZxJDy9vxyqo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZxJDy9vxyqo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cate diferente observati?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5548939433202921143?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5548939433202921143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5548939433202921143' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5548939433202921143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5548939433202921143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/04/spot-differences.html' title='Spot the differences'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5174619403264474139</id><published>2009-03-26T22:07:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T22:33:50.541+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Traim in Romania</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;si asta, uneori, e de bine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de cand ma stiu, am fost nemultumita de calitatea serviciilor de la noi. cu timpul, mi-am mai slefuit pretentiile, in sensul ca daca stau mai putin de 10 minute la masa inainte de a mi se aduce un meniu, e bine. incantata nu am fost nicicand si, din &lt;a href="http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/02/bcr-sucks-ass.html"&gt;timp&lt;/a&gt; in &lt;a href="http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2007/12/exercitiu-de-pr.html"&gt;rastimp&lt;/a&gt; in &lt;a href="http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/09/oare-ce-facultate-trebuie-sa-faci-sa-sa.html"&gt;rastimp&lt;/a&gt;, chiar m-am si plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dar iata ca am dat peste customer services demne de laudat. doua sunt la numar, dar unul dintre ele este de acolo de unde lucrez eu, deci nu-i voi face propaganda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ideea e in felul urmator: eu nu sunt un client dificil. sunt civilizata, stiu ce vreau (pentru ca fac research serios inainte), odata ajunsa in magazin ma hotarasc relativ repede ce vreau sa cumpar (iar daca nu, imi cer scuze la sfarsit), pun intrebari logice (uneori sunt incuietoare pentru cel ce trebuie sa raspunda, dar deh... ii ajut sa se dezvolte, nu?). deci in principiu sunt ok. nu am cerinte mari, cred ca cel mai mult am cerut odata intr-un magazin de pantofi sa se verifice daca mai exista si in alta parte pantofii pe care mi-i doream, marimea mea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de curand, am vrut sa imi iau mobil. m-am uitat frumusel pe net, stiam ce vreau in termeni tehnici, ma oprisem asupra a 2 modele. si zic sa ma duc in &lt;a href="http://eurogsm.ro/"&gt;magazin&lt;/a&gt; sa le vad face to face, sa aflu care e mai prietenos. ma duc o data, le aveau, dar doar pe alea din vitrina. nu vreau sa le cumpar pe alea, vreau sa fie nescoase din cutie. mi se zice sa revin, ca primesc marfa. revin, primisera, dar fix ce vroiam eu - nu. ma rog, eu intre timp mai avea si alte variante, dar ma interesa si pe mine o anumita culoare la un anumit model. si tipa cu care vorbisem se ofera sa verifice daca exista pe la alte magazine mobilul pe culoarea pe care vroiam eu. bine, zic, daca insisti. mai exista doar intr-un magazin. zic "pfai, pai eu nu prea am cum sa ajung acolo, cam nasol", la care ea, foarte draguta, "a, nici o problema, pot eu sa ma duc si ti-l aduc de acolo la noi in magazin si te anunt pe mail cand e aici, ca sa vii sa il cumperi de aici"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sincer acuma, daca nici asta nu e customer service excellence, i dunno what is. &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/41.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5174619403264474139?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5174619403264474139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5174619403264474139' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5174619403264474139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5174619403264474139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/03/traim-in-romania.html' title='Traim in Romania'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7458569856381836206</id><published>2009-02-15T13:52:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T14:02:45.213+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>0. surprinzator, chiar stiu 99 de lucruri despre mine</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;mi-a pasat &lt;a href="http://puiulparanoic.blogspot.com/"&gt;danutzah&lt;/a&gt; o leapsa de toata stima, sa scriu 99 de lucruri despre mine. nu o pot refuza, ca deh, n-a mai scris pe blog de 2 ere glaciare si daca nu-i fac pe plac cine stie, poate se enerveaza si nu mai scrie inca p-atat. asa ca o sa scriu, ce sa fac. si nu numai atat, o sa incerc sa scriu numai lucruri importante, nu din-astea de umplutura. numa un pic, sa-mi fac curaj. 1,2,3... si:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. turns out ca oamenii ma considera independenta si inteligenta. stiu asta, pentru ca am dat peste un fel de test on-line, care iti deseneaza fereastra lui johari. despre asta eu am facut la facultate ceva, asa ca va voi explica, strict pentru personalitati (desi ea se poate aplica la procesul de comunicare, in general). sa presupunem ca personalitatea mea este un patrat, impartit in 4 prin 2 linii perpendiculare una pe alta si paralele fiecare cu cate o latura a patratului. in portiunea de sus-stanga se pun informatiile pe care le am si eu si le au si altii despre mine (gen ca am ochi albastri, ca sunt independenta etc). in portiunea de jos-stanga se pun informatiile pe care le am doar eu despre mine, iar altii nu le vad/ stiu (cum ar fi numarul de alunite, sa zicem). in portiunea de sus-dreapta se pun informatiile stiute de altii, dar nestiute de mine (gen ca vorbesc mult, daca prin absurd eu nu as considera ca asta e adevarat). iar in dreapta-jos se pun informatiile despre care nimeni nu stie nimic, nici eu, nici altii. iata, deci, cum arata &lt;a href="http://kevan.org/johari?view=bromden"&gt;fereastra mea&lt;/a&gt;. ma rog, dupa vreo 10 persoane m-am plictisit sa le mai zic oamenilor sa o completeze, dar sa zicem ca e relevanta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. cea mai aspra caracterizare din fereastra de mai sus mi-a fost facuta de fostul meu prieten, ceea ce, la prima vedere, ar parea normal, dar nu si atunci cand adaug ca am ramas prieteni foarte buni dupa ce ne-am despartit. sau poate ca a incercat sa-mi spuna ceva cu asta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/39.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. apropo de relatii amoroase, sunt din ce in ce mai convinsa ca, cel putin pentru mine, dragostea nu dureaza pentru totdeauna decat daca e neimpartasita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. dar sa schimbam subiectul, ca devin prea siropoasa. am fost un copil nabadaios si m-am ales cu o multime de semne de buna purtare si povesti despre accidente, nici unul prea conventional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. de exemplu, am trecut prin geam. in total, am 14 copci de la cascadoria asta, si nu am plans decat la gandul ca o sa tipe tata la mine cand o sa vada dezastrul din casa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. am cazut intr-un canal. pana la genunchi, nu de tot, ca m-a prins cineva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. am cazut si de la balcon (de la parter, dar suna mai periculos daca nu mentionez asta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/10.gif" /&gt;) si am o cicatrice in barbie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. mi-am retezat un deget intr-un scaun rabatabil. din fericire, bunii doctori mi l-au lipit la loc si osul a crescut inapoi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. in afara de aceste evenimente izolate, mama imi spune ca am fost un copil cuminte si tacut - se pare ca ma invatase sa nu plang noaptea printr-o metoda deosebit de mamoasa - pur si simplu nu ma baga in seama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. probabil faptul ca am o sora care obisnuia sa-mi dea sa mananc tencuiala si sa ma inghesuiasca prin diverse colturi din casa a ajutat la cumintenia mea. dar m-am razvratit destul dup-aia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. am o singura amintire placuta cu tata din copilarie, anume atunci cand eu l-am intrebat cum deosebesc soseta stanga de cea dreapta si el chiar mi-a raspuns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. in urma copilariei si adolescentei, sunt convinsa ca am nevoie de terapie ca sa ma inteleg si sa ma vindec de traumele capatate. daca o sa am vreodata bani, cu siguranta ma voi duce la psiholog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. nu cred in puterile miraculoase ale ceaiului si nu imi place sa-l beau. ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. am multe apucaturi de baiat si de-aia spun ca sunt un suflet de baiat gentil intr-un corp de fata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. am o senzatie permanenta de dor, desi nu stiu exact de ce mi-e dor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. mi-am dat seama ca nu imi place sa invat in cadrul unui sistem academic. ma enerveaza sa imi fie impus sa citesc ceva intr-un anumit timp, mai ales ca majoritatea chestiilor sunt revolute sau de-a dreptul inutile. dar nici singura n-as invata, ca sunt o lepra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. nu plang decat foarte rar, si cel mai probabil atunci cand nu ma vede nimeni.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. cred ca as fi o mama ingrozitoare si nu vreau sa am copii, dar am de mult in minte nume de fete si de baieti care imi plac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. nu vreau nici sa ma casatoresc, dar stiu exact cum as vrea sa arate inelul meu de logodna. si nu, nu e cu diamant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. n-am mai inotat in mare din anul 2004.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. posesiunile mele cele mai de pret sunt ceasul si costumul popular de la bunica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. imi place sa am grija de cei din jurul meu, dar de obicei ma astept sa aprecieze asta, si in nici un caz sa profite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. daca profita, ma enervez destul de tare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. cel mai mult imi place sa gatesc pentru altii, si de obicei inventez niste retete foarte bune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. i could be a great housewife, if i weren't such a workaholic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. uneori gandesc in engleza, de aici si blogul e partial in engleza. ironic, de obicei atunci cand trebuie sa vorbesc in engleza, gandesc mai mult in romana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. in liceu am fost tunsa baieteste (adica aveam parul cam de 1-2 cm) si, in secret, vreau sa ma tund din nou scrut, insa aproape toata lumea imi zice ca imi sta mai bine cu parul lung.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. dupa cum arat in poze, nu mi se pare, dar ma rog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. eu oricum arat cam aiurea in poze in general. am o afectiune deosebita pentru cei ce reusesc sa-mi faca o poza decenta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. una din cele mai mari frici ale mele e ca voi ajunge ca tata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. cu toate ca incerc sa ma controlez, descopar din ce in ce mai multe caracteristici comune intre mine si el.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. singurul sport pe care mi-a placut vreodata sa-l practic si la care sunt relativ buna este ping-pongul. si lui tata ii place ping-pongul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. sunt o persoana timida. unii pot confirma asta, pe altii ii pacalesc destul de bine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. cand ma enervez, ridic tonul destul de mult, sunt rea, nesimtita si sarcastica, dar atunci cand se tipa la mine ma blochez si ma inchid in carapace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. mi-ar fi placut sa nu fiu din bucuresti, ca sa fi putut veni la facultate in bucuresti si sa stau in camin (sau in chirie, dar cred ca mai mult mi-ar fi placut in camin)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. cand eram in liceu, mi-ar fi placut sa locuiesc in sibiu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. acum mi-ar placea sa locuiesc in valencia sau in amsterdam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. nu am carnet de sofer si acum, pentru ca tin la mediul in care traiesc, nici nu cred ca imi voi lua. merg cu masinile prietenilor insa, atunci cand nu am alta varianta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. nu sunt in stare sa cuceresc pe nimeni, de obicei sunt cea cucerita (desi ideile nu-mi lipsesc, am probleme in a-mi face curaj pentru a le pune in aplicare)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. am probleme in a recunoaste ca gresesc si (mai ales) in a-mi cere scuze. de obicei fac ce fac si-i conving pe ceilalti ca am dreptate. but i'm working on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. mi-ar fi placut sa am 17-18 ani atunci cand a fost woodstock si sa fiu prezenta acolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. cand eram mica, numeam clabucii de sapun "crema de elefant".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. am o slabiciune pentru baietii cu parul cret, graseiati si care poarta pulovere pe gat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. nu am fost niciodata cuplata cu un tip care sa indeplineasca macar una dintre cele 3 conditii de mai sus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. i got my heart broken twice. neither of the two guys ever knew (probably).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. cel mai infect compliment pe care l-am primit vreodata (dintre astea care pot fi luate in seama, nu d-astea gen "papusa, ce ochi frumosi ai" cu care acosteaza taranii tipele pe strada) a fost ca sunt "simpatica". atunci cand am cerut explicatii, mi s-a spus "nu stiu, pur si simplu."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. consider ca exista o diferenta foarte mare intre indragosteala si iubire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. mie imi place indragosteala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. iubirea mi se pare plictisitoare, blazata. like u're settling for the next best thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. petrec destul de putin timp in fata oglinzii de acasa, dar nu ma pot abtine sa ma privesc in toate geamurile pe langa care trec pe strada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51. daca s-ar face un film dupa viata mea, mi-ar placea ca rolul meu sa fie jucat de jodie foster sau de kate winslet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. pe soundtrack ar intra billie holiday, eddie vedder, red hot chilli peppers, the white stripes si arctic monkeys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. cand mancam de la mcdonalds, imi placea sa inmoi cartofi prajiti in inghetata cu caramel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. pentru prima oara in viata, sunt mai slaba decat sora-mea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. nu pierd nici o ocazie sa-i amintesc asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. asta pentru ca nu stiu cat va mai tine aceasta situatie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57. de-abia astept sa-mi fac un tatuaj.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58. desi, not unlike me, de curand m-am razgandit in legatura cu modelul tatuajului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59. mi-am obisnuit prietenii, cu foarte putine exceptii, sa le fac felicitari in loc sa le cumpar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60. cand primesc un cadou, invariabil, va fi unul esuat, daca nu contine o felicitare cu un mesaj personalizat si dragut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. exceptand cazurile in care primesc carti, cand accept mesaje personalizate si dragute pe carte, in loc de felicitare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62. am doua zile de nastere, pentru ca m-am nascut la 23.55 si am fost inregistrata ca fiind nascuta a doua zi, ca sa-si poata lua mama mai mult concediu post-natal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63. aceasta informatie mi-a fost facuta cadou de mama cu ocazia majoratului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64. desi am 22 de ani, ma consider cam de 17-18&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. inainte sa ajung la facultate habar n-aveam cu ce se mananca PR-ul, vroiam sa lucrez in publicitate, iar in anul intai de facultate mi se parea ca PR e boring, ca lucrul intr-o banca, la ghiseu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. intre timp, am aflat ce inseamna PRul si nu imi vine sa cred cat de ignoranta eram candva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;67. acum, mi se pare ca PR e mult mai exciting si mai challenging decat publicitatea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68. pe langa activitatile profesionale in domeniu, vreau ca la un moment dat sa-mi deschid un bar, dar inca nu m-am hotarat asupra conceptului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;69. imi place sa-mi interpretez propriile vise (nu dupa dictionarele de vise though) si mi s-a intamplat de destul de multe ori sa mi se adevereasca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. de asemenea, mi s-a intamplat sa visez solutii pentru diverse chestii noaptea - card tricks, probleme de matematica, stuff like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;71. nu imi place sa merg la cinema decat daca nu exista nimic altceva de facut. dar exista mereu altceva de facut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;72. imi place, insa, foarte mult, sa ma uit la filme acasa, pe calculator sau DVD player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;73. prima pereche de pantofi cu tocuri mi-am cumparat-o in clasa a douasprezecea, pentru balul de absolvire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74. am purtat pantofii aia de 2 ori in total&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;75. la bal, mi-au facut in total 23 de bataturi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;76. de atunci, am zis ca probabil imi voi mai cumpara pantofi cu toc pentru nunta (daca, prin absurd, m-as casatori vreodata)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;77. azi, in afara de pantofii aia, mai am doua perechi cu tocuri&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78. am ca obiectiv sa merg pe tocuri cel putin o data pe saptamana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;79. fara sa imi rup gatul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80. de opt ani de zile nu am mai purtat decat ceasuri de baiat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81. daca nu voi gasi/ primi un ceas de pus la gat, pe lant, nu cred ca voi renunta la aceasta practica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;82. de curand purtam o conversatie cu cineva si eu am zis ca seman cu tata, inclusiv la faptul ca sunt egoista. am fost provocata sa imi amintesc ultima chestie egoista pe care am facut-o. nu zic ca nu exista, dar cert e ca nu mi-am amintit nimic, fiindca in ultima vreme am ca scop declarat sa ajut cat pot oamenii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;83. atunci cand spun ca sunt egoista, cred ca ma refer la faptul ca rationalizez lucrurile exclusiv din punctul meu de vedere si nu ma mai intereseaza opiniile celorlalti, pentru ca numai eu pot avea dreptate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;84. dar nici explicatia asta nu mai e de actualitate, pentru ca i've been working hard to change that about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;85. as a child, i never had Legos. i was totally self-consious about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;86. sunt foarte pasionata de fotografie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;87. din decembrie, nu mai sunt proprietara nici unui aparat de fotografiat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;88. am doar un zenit vechi, pe film, absolut genial, dar care nu-i al meu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;89. oricum, nu conteaza prea mult, pentru ca nu am mai facut o fotografie cam de un an.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90. aici facem distinctia intre poze (de turist) si fotografii (artistice).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;91. putin dezamagitor, avand in vedere ca fotografia este cam cea mai mare pasiune a mea (besides my line of work)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;92. si ca sa incheiem cu ceva siropos, am o cutie roz pe care scrie The Wish Box, care e plina cu memorabilia, incepand din clasa a patra pana acuma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;93. am un biletel cu o poezie dragastoasa pe care am primit-o de la my first heartbreak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;94. am o floare de camp uscata care mi-a fost oferita "on my first time"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;95. am invitatiile trimise profesorilor pentru balul de absolvire al liceului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;96. am 2 fiole in care se pun jointurile in coffeeshop-urile din olanda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;97. am editia speciala a EVZ de la concertul rolling stones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;98. am bratari din cluburi pe spatele carora am scris data si de ce a fost speciala iesirea respectiva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;99. nu deschid prea des cutia aia, ca sa nu devalorizez tot ce e in ea. si nici nu am aratat vreodata altcuiva continutul ei in intregime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew!!! (mi-a luat doua saptamani sa scriu toate chestiile astea despre mine)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7458569856381836206?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7458569856381836206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7458569856381836206' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7458569856381836206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7458569856381836206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/02/0-surprinzator-chiar-stiu-99-de-lucruri.html' title='0. surprinzator, chiar stiu 99 de lucruri despre mine'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-103495143115637604</id><published>2009-01-30T23:24:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T14:54:08.166+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>evrika.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;am descoperit la ce folosesc cunostintele acumulate in facultate - la master. (desi, dupa ce master fac eu, nu s-ar zice la prima vedere)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sesiunea asta am avut de facut asa:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;- de facut planul unei cercetari de teren care include un argument (de ce am ales cercetarea aia), descrierea echipei si 10 fise de carti folositoare la research - argumentul si fisele le-am luat din licenta, descrierea echipei mi-a luat 30 de minute. one down, 5 more to go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- de facut recenzia unei carti de antropologie - am facut recenzia unei carti pe care am folosit-o la licenta. mi-a luat 45 de minute, cat sa scriu 3 pagini. two down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- de facut un proiect despre un mestesug - pe-asta l-am facut printr-o vizita de 2 ore la bcu. cred ca a fost cel mai time-consuming. deci three down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- de facut un discurs pe o tema antropologica, avand la baza un text dat la curs - am citit 20 de pagini, din care mi-am ales o fraza, pe baza careia voi dezvolta niste teorii pe care le-am invatat la cursuri prin anul intai sau doi (urmeaza sa fac, dar am maine dimineata examenul, deci nu are cum sa-mi ia mai mult de-o ora, ca mi-e somn). mai raman doua.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- de propus un text etnologic fundamental - la asta sunt cam in pom, dar ma gandesc ca voi lua un text de la alt curs tot de la master, ca doar nu ma apuc sa citesc eu acuma ceva special. vom vedea cum va decurge. s-ar putea sa raman cu restanta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- de facut un proiect pentru sora-mea pentru cursul de business communication - am folosit informatiile dintr-o licenta (multumim, roxana)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- si de dat un examen - am invatat dupa cursurile din anul intai ale unei alte persoane (careia i-am multumit personal), l-am dat, l-am luat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;deci cam asta. o afacere profitabila, as zice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-103495143115637604?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/103495143115637604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=103495143115637604' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/103495143115637604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/103495143115637604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/01/evrika.html' title='evrika.'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4620463008849634119</id><published>2009-01-24T00:59:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T01:32:23.032+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Valabilitati</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Care e termenul de valabilitate al unui secret?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa zicem ca cineva are un secret, o chestie pe care a facut-o, sau o conceptie, sau whatever. Important e ca nimeni nu stie despre asta. Trecem peste stereotipul ca un secret nu poate fi tinut de fapt secret, si ca in orice moment stiu cel putin doua persoane despre el. Presupunem ca nu stie decat o persoana. Cat timp ar trebui sa astepte respectiva persoana pana sa fie ok sa-si dezvaluie taina? Cand spun "ok", ma refer la lipsa unor repercusiuni majore, dar si la faptul ca cei care ar afla secretul nu ar mai considera necesar sa judece persoana in cauza pentru ceea ce a facut, sau pentru ceea ce crede.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc ca, la fel ca in majoritatea cazurilor, totul este relativ, si valabilitatea secretului tine de importanta lui (sau, mai bine spus, de gravitatea lui). Spre exemplu, daca cineva si-a mintit parintii le poate spune asta dupa un timp mai scurt fara sa existe riscul unei pedepse decat daca, spre exemplu, secretul ar consta in faptul ca a ucis. Dar poate ar trebui sa existe niste termene de garantie pe categorii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand ii poti spune tipului pe care l-ai iubit in tacere in liceu cat de mult ai tinut la el fara ca el sa se uite la tine de sus sau sa rada de tine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand le poti spune prietenilor tai homofobi ca ai avut o experienta intima cu o persoana de acelasi sex (si ca ti-a placut) fara ca ei sa te excluda din grup?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat trebuie sa astepti pana sa-i spui unui profesor ca ai copiat la toate examenele lui si ca tot ce ti-a predat ti s-a parut absolut inutil?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand ii poti spune unei prietene ca ii dispretuiesti (sau i-ai dispretuit) profund iubitul?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand poti sa le dezvalui apropiatilor ca ai avut o relatie cu un om casatorit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat timp trebuie sa pastrezi doar pentru tine faptul ca ai incercat sa te sinucizi, dar nu ai reusit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat astepti pana sa ii spui unei prietene snoabe ca ai furat dintr-un magazin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si oare faptul ca nu spui nimanui inseamna ca, de fapt, nici nu s-a intamplat vreodata? Este un mod de a-ti refuza tie insuti parti ale personalitatii cu care nu te poti impaca si pe care ti le-ai condamna singur? E o metoda de a-ti ingropa constiinta sau, dimpotriva, e doar un motiv in plus de a ti-o incarca?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astept sugestii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4620463008849634119?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4620463008849634119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4620463008849634119' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4620463008849634119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4620463008849634119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/01/valabilitati.html' title='Valabilitati'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-1867541159819666372</id><published>2009-01-12T00:59:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T11:12:43.102+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ma trec ganduri'/><title type='text'>Portrete in geam</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Mersul cu metroul imi mananca jumatate din viata. Noroc ca am castile in urechi si nu trebuie sa aud serpuitul prin tunel. Uneori prind loc pe scaun si atunci citesc, dar azi mi-au luat-o altii inainte. Raman langa usa, nu merg mult oricum. Afara e frig si lumea e imbracata gros. Sau poate toti se captusesc pentru a nu se lovi unii de altii. La fiecare statie, intra o data cu oamenii un miros de frig care imi aminteste de saniusul din copilarie. Nu stiu cand am invatat sa disting mirosul de frig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La prima o sa cobor. Stau chiar in fata usii. In spatele meu, putin mai in dreapta, e un cuplu. Ii observ in geam. El e putin mai inalt decat ea, asa ca le e usor sa se tina in brate. Parul ei e lung, are culoarea alunei si acopera pieptul hainei lui negre. Uite, acum se saruta. Ea tine ochii inchisi si mainile in buzunarele lui. El are ochii deschisi si parca zambeste un pic. Nu dureaza mult si se opresc. Cu manusile inca in maini, el ii da ei parul dupa ureche si ii spune ceva soptit. Imi inchipui ca o cere in casatorie, pentru ca fata ei se lumineaza si isi inclesteaza mainile dupa gatul lui. Se opreste, insa, cand, cu coada ochiului, observa ca imparte vestea cu mine, in geam. Baiatul intoarce capul si imi arunca o privire certatoare in fereastra usii de metrou. Incerc sa-l ocolesc aruncandu-mi repede ochii deasupra capului sau. Merita un pic de intimitate intre atatia necunoscuti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peste capul lui, putin mai in spate, dau peste un om mai in varsta. Trebuie ca are vreo 50 de ani - ridurile ii brazdeaza fruntea si obrajii, iar colturile ochilor ii sunt trase in jos de timp. Este inalt si slab, chiar si cu haine groase pe el pare ca nu a mai mancat de cateva zile bune. E imbracat prost, aproape murdar. Poate ca nu-i ajung banii decat de votca. Este adus de spate si pare ca se clatina, nu stiu daca din cauza miscarii metroului sau pur si simplu pentru ca e prea ametit ca sa se mai tina drept. Cunosc oamenii ca el. Ii intalnesc mereu pe strada. Sunt nefericiti. Viata lor a luat la un moment dat, fara voia lor, o intorsura gresita. Prea multi copii si prea putini bani, sau poate au fost dati afara din casa de neveste, sau poate sunt bolnavi, o boala incurabila cu care trebuie sa se chinuie toata viata. Si daca ei sunt nefericiti, viata se opreste si ei se apuca sa bea, iar lumea trebuie sa-i inteleaga si sa-i compatimeasca, parca le-ar pune cineva paharul in mana si i-ar forta sa-l dea pe gat. Dar nu-i intelege nimeni, si asta nu e decat un motiv in plus sa bea, daca tot s-au apucat. Ajung seara acasa si nu mai au putere decat sa-si bata copiii si nevestele si apoi pica lati intr-o balta de inutilitate. De parca faptul ca ei sunt nefericiti e o scuza. Ca si cum faptul ca ei si-au ratat viata ii obliga sa le rateze vietile celor din jur. Cunosc oamenii ca el. Nu trebuie sa ma uit la el mai mult ca sa imi dau seama cat il condamn, cat il judec.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi indepartez privirea, vrand sa nu ma mai uit la nimeni, gandindu-ma ca mi-a ajuns, dar ochii mi se opresc pe fata unei fete care sta exact in spatele meu. Fusese tot timpul asta acolo si eu nu o observasem. Are capul lasat in jos, parul saten ii acopera fata pe jumatate, insa obrazul stang i se dezveleste cu o paloare consistenta si aproape bolnavicioasa. E imbracata intr-o haina lunga, neagra. In intunericul tunelului de dupa geam aproape ca nici nu se observa. Pun pariu ca nimeni n-o observa. Trece prin viata de atatia ani cu ochii in pamant, nevazuta de nimeni, neiubita de nimeni. Oare cand si-a pierdut speranta ca cineva ar putea-o descoperi, asa, linistita cum e, simpla, poate chiar frumoasa? Ma surprinde cand isi ridica pentru un moment capul si se priveste in geamul in care o privesc si eu. Oare vede ce vad si eu? Are genele lungi, cu o forma care descriu perfect coapsele unei femei, si ochii de o tristete sfasietoare. Pentru cateva secunde, ne intalnim in propriile reflexii si incerc sa-i zambesc candid, sa-i arat ca lumea nu e facuta numai din oameni care nu o vad, ca merita sa se arate celorlalti. Prea multe lucruri de spus intr-o fractiune de secunda. Imaginile noastre se pierd in lumina statiei de metrou. Coboram amandoua prin acelasi loc, urcam pe aceeasi scara rulanta, iesim in acelasi Bucuresti in care amandoua suntem anonime si apoi drumurile noastre se despart ireconciliabil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uneori ajung acasa si inca ii mai simt parfumul. Imi ia cateva clipe sa-mi aduc aminte ca a plecat de ceva vreme.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-1867541159819666372?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/1867541159819666372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=1867541159819666372' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1867541159819666372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1867541159819666372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/01/portrete-in-geam.html' title='Portrete in geam'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6117200408164272793</id><published>2009-01-03T16:10:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T16:36:28.567+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>New year's resolutions and all that crap.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;a mai trecut un an, ce bine ca n-am murit de foame, ce rau ca traim in criza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nu obisnuiesc sa imi setez new year's resolutions, in principiu din doua motive: unu, ca mi se pare un obicei american idiot (la fel cum numai de valentine's day poti sa-ti arati dragostea pentru persoana de langa tine, parca numai de revelion poti sa te hotarasti ce vrei sa schimbi in viitor in viata ta) si doi, ca de revelion prefer sa ma imbat si sa dansez, nu sa ma gandesc la rezolutii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dar intamplarea si circumstanta face ca anul acesta sa ma fi gandit fix la inceputul anului la cateva chestii. in primul rand, am hotarat ca voi inceta sa ma mai agat de trecut. mi se pare de bun simt. si nu numai asta, mi se pare in ton cu recentele modificari din viata mea. nu zic, amintirile sunt all fine and dandy, dar m-am cam plictisit sa incerc sa gasesc modalitati sa reinvii perioade din viata mea pe care mi le amintesc eu probabil mai bune decat au fost de fapt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in afara de asta, adica in al doilea rand cum ar veni, trebuie sa invat sa spun "nu". pentru ca eu, in principiu, sunt o persoana decenta, iar atunci cand cineva a avut nevoie de ceva, nu prea s-a intamplat ca eu sa nu ma ofer sa il ajut. acuma, poate atitudinea asta a mea nu transpare din blog, dar in spiritul noii mele rezolutii, i don't really give a fuck whether u people agree with me or not. oricum, ideea e ca nu prea reusesc sa imi bag in cap conceptul ca, doar pentru ca eu sunt o persoana decenta, nu inseamna ca si cei din jurul meu trebuie sa fie la fel. nu spun asta cu sarcasm, asa cum poate ati fi crezut, ci ca o constatare. si, evident, asta nu-i decat vina mea. cred constant (si prosteste) in bunatatea oamenilor si in ideea ca, daca le dai dovada de intelegere si bunavointa, va licari un miracol in ei si ei vor aprecia asta si se vor comporta minunat. dar, evident, lucrurile nu stau asa. pentru ca lumea interpreteaza asta ca o dovada de ingenuitate si nu se sfieste sa profite de ea. nu judec pe nimeni, e dreptul fiecaruia sa reactioneze cum considera, dar asta inseamna ca si eu, la randul meu, imi pot ajusta atitudinea asa cum vreau eu. asa ca, de acum incolo, am decretat ca nu-mi va mai fi teama sa spun "nu" doar ca cineva sa nu se supere pe mine. voi inlocui principiul noutestimonial "intoarce si celalalt obraz" cu cel vechitestimonial "ochi pentru ochi".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sau ma rog, asta e my new year's resolution. am vazut azi, la metrou, ca 9 din 10 rezolutii de revelion sunt lasate balta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6117200408164272793?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6117200408164272793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6117200408164272793' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6117200408164272793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6117200408164272793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-years-resolutions-and-all-that-crap.html' title='New year&apos;s resolutions and all that crap.'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5161290050434047079</id><published>2008-12-24T17:07:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T17:44:15.452+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Fir-ati ai dracu' de colindatori!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mai copii. Ne intrecem cu gluma. Cum adik sa-mi lasati mie comentarii cu "vrem un post"?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pai in primul rand ca ati semnat-o anonima, deci ar trebui ca putin sa-mi pese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In al doilea rand, lasati-ma si pe mine sa-mi fac shoppingul de Craciun si curatenia in casa in liniste. Acuma doar nu vreti sa va scriu posturi pe blog in loc de cadouri, nu?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si in al treilea rand, voi nu stiti ca geniul creator nu poate fi grabit? Cand oi scrie, oi scrie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5161290050434047079?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5161290050434047079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5161290050434047079' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5161290050434047079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5161290050434047079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/12/fir-ati-ai-dracu-de-colindatori.html' title='Fir-ati ai dracu&apos; de colindatori!'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6022625544582125498</id><published>2008-12-06T23:25:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T23:41:25.816+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imobilizant'/><title type='text'>You kinda let the cat out of the bag</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Vai de capul meu, n-am mai scris de atata vreme pe blog incat m-am obisnuit sa nu mai scriu si nici cand am ceva de scris nu scriu &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/21.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma uitam deunazi la televizor, pe MTV (pe ce altceva??) si am prins un pic din binecunoscuta de-acum pe blogul meu emisiune de mare angajament si culturalizatoare &lt;a href="http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/10/all-blondes-in-house-raise-your-left.html"&gt;My Super Sweet 16&lt;/a&gt;. Ei, fatuca aia care implinea 16 ani a avut la petrecere un numar de dans, protagonista fiind (cine altcineva decat) ea insasi. Cand au vazut-o cei un catralion din her closest friends, toti au aprobat cum ca danseaza deosebit si nemaivazut. Numa unu s-a cam dat de gol si a zis "She's so sexy! She's like... Justin Timberlake!" &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/39.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Reminds me of a scene in Friends when Chandler says "Sometimes I wish I were a lesbian... Wait, did I just say that out loud?! &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/17.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6022625544582125498?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6022625544582125498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6022625544582125498' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6022625544582125498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6022625544582125498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/12/you-kinda-let-cat-out-of-bag.html' title='You kinda let the cat out of the bag'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4855366799270777844</id><published>2008-11-13T13:24:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T13:48:47.239+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Civiliza-v-ati</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Tocmai ce am terminat de scris ultimul post, cu scara rulanta de la metrou, si mi se supune atentiei articolul &lt;a href="http://www.compact.info.ro/index.php?section=articole&amp;amp;screen=articol&amp;amp;art_id=53864"&gt;asta&lt;/a&gt; din Compact, despre o campanie initiata de doi bloggeri in vederea educarii calatorilor la metrou, cum ca e bine sa stai pe partea dreapta a scarilor rulante, iar pe partea stanga sa mergi. Frumos din partea lor, nu stiu cine sunt bloggerii astia, ca nu se zice in articol, dar exista si &lt;a href="http://www.petitieonline.ro/petitie/stationati_pe_partea_dreapta_-p54122040.html"&gt;o petitie&lt;/a&gt; pe care o poate semna toata lumea, ca sa sprijine initiativa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Va instig sa fiti civilizati! &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/70.gif" /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4855366799270777844?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4855366799270777844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4855366799270777844' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4855366799270777844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4855366799270777844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/11/civiliza-va-ti.html' title='Civiliza-v-ati'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6662313515407487564</id><published>2008-11-07T11:51:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T14:59:09.874+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Sunt mandra</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sunt mandra pentru ca ieri stateam pe scara rulanta de la romana si, aproape pe la jumate, am vazut cum cativa baieti trec in graba prin stanga mea si urca pe scarile rulante pana sus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atunci mi-am dat seama ca toata partea stanga a scarii rulante ramasese libera cat timp am urcat eu. Vedeti ca se poate?  &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/41.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"   lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6662313515407487564?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6662313515407487564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6662313515407487564' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6662313515407487564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6662313515407487564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/11/sunt-mandra.html' title='Sunt mandra'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2269926131985672140</id><published>2008-11-04T11:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T12:39:17.544+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Top 5'/><title type='text'>I'm it</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Deja a inceput sa-mi placa sa primesc lepse de la &lt;a href="http://ela.citatdela.com/2008/10/leapsa-sa-fie.html"&gt;Ela&lt;/a&gt;, nu de alta, dar sunt lepse dragute si ma mai impulsioneaza si pe mine sa scriu mai des pe blog. Plus ca mi se pare foarte funny ca de multe ori ea spune lucruri pe blog pe care foarte bine le-as fi putut spune eu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De data asta sunt doua lepse (Ela ne-a indemnat sa alegem una singura, cea care ne place mai mult, si asta voi si face... in a second).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prima leapsa ar avea in vedere snobismele mele, sau, din cate am inteles, ar trebui sa vorbesc despre fitele mele. eu as zice ca eu sunt mai degraba o &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;anti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;snoaba (hait, parca as fi pe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;anti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;blogul &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/39.gif" /&gt;), dar probabil la nevoie as putea gasi cateva chestii pe care le-am adoptat mai mult dintr-un curent decat din judecata proprie. sunt, insa, din principiu, impotriva atitudinii de a merge in aceeasi directie cu turma, asa ca de multe ori am ca scop declarat sa fac tot ce nu e la moda. de exemplu, acuma ma enerveaza foarte tare ca a descoperit toata lumea curentul vintage si ca a devenit un adevarat fenomen, cand eu ii imbracam hainele din tineretile mamei inca din clasa a sasea. nu imi plac filmele care plac tuturor, cu atat mai putin nu sa le vad la cinema, pentru ca eu nu merg niciodata la cinema (sau ma rog...aproape niciodata). nu imi place muzica la moda, din principiu, am gusturi mai underground si neintelese de majoritatea. in materie de cosmetica nu sunt relevanta, pentru ca nu acord prea mare atentie acestei laturi a personalitatii mele (serios acuma, in loc sa imi vopsesc radacinile eu am ales sa ma tund baieteste... cred ca e destul de relevant, nu?). Fite cu atat mai putin nu am, nu merg in cluburi de fite (decat tarata de prieteni, dar nu imi place oricum), nu tin la marci, decat atunci cand marca este dublata de o calitate superioara a produsului, si nici atunci nu tin la marca, ci la calitate. Unii s-ar putea sa spuna ca am altfel de fite, pe alte planuri, adica nici eu nu as zice ca-s tocmai low maintenance, dar despre asta poate cu alta ocazie si la cererea publicului fidel &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/10.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A doua leapsa, cea pe care am ales-o eu, era despre lucrurile pe care vreau sa le fac in viata, ca un top 3. dar, avand in vedere ca suntem, totusi, pe antiblogul, voi face un top 5 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/4.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Top 5 Life To Do List&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Sa vad cat mai multe locuri, lucruri si persoane. Asta inseamna sa calatoresc. Mi-ar placea sa calatoresc si singura, dar nu-s sigura ca as fi in stare. Oricum, as vrea sa merg si in locuri din-astea mai putin atractive pentru turisti, gen India, Africa... cu rucsacul in spate si on a budget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Sa imi fac un tatuaj. Cred ca acest obiectiv este cel mai aproape de a fi indeplinit, ca sa incununeze seria de schimbari recente din viata mea, dar nu vreau sa dau un deadline ferm inca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Sa scriu o carte de beletristica. Mi-ar placea si sa fie publicata, ar fi un semn ca am un pic de talent, dar pana la urma m-as simti satisfacuta daca as dovedi ca am vointa de a termina sa scriu o carte si atat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Sa imi cumpar si sa imi renovez propria casa. Nu impreuna cu cineva. Singura. Vreau sa fiu in stare sa imi cumpar casa mea (adica un apartament, nu am visuri nebunesti de vile), chiar si cu un credit pe 159 de ani, si pe care sa o pot renova si decora asa cum vreau eu (am planurile facute din clasa a zecea, pana in cel mai mic detaliu)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Sa ajut lumea. Stiu ca este destul de vag, dar nu as putea spune ceva mai explicit. De la mici gesturi, sfaturi, chestii, pana la gesturi mari, importante. Mi-ar placea, de exemplu, ca la un moment dat sa predau. Dar sa fiu genul ala de profesoara care e mai mult decat o profesoara, care ii face pe elevii/ studentii ei sa se simta intelesi, si sa simta ca au un ajutor neconditionat in ea. Sau mi-ar placea sa ma implic intr-o activitate de voluntariat, sa construiesc case pentru oamenii din lumea a treia, sau mai stiu eu ce. Sau, la un moment dat, cand voi avea bani, sa fac o donatie mare pentru o cauza in care cred. Oricum, eu sunt de parere ca, de la un prag incolo nu mai conteaza cati bani ai. Daca as castiga vreodata un miliard de dolari, mi-as opri mie un milion, iar restul i-as dona.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2269926131985672140?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2269926131985672140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2269926131985672140' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2269926131985672140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2269926131985672140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/10/im-it.html' title='I&apos;m it'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2096622370532661753</id><published>2008-10-30T17:05:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T21:25:09.718+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Cultura civica</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pe 30 noiembrie, anul asta, sunt alegerile parlamentare. Pentru prima data in Romania se foloseste sistemul de vot uninominal. Sistemul asta al nostru de vot uninominal, spune lumea prin targ, nu este cea mai fericita varianta a votului uninominal. Dar, zic eu, macar e un pas in directia potrivita. Inainte sa scriu postul asta, trebuie sa recunosc ca nu stiam prea multe despre sistem, insa vroiam sa ma informez, asa ca o data ce am facut acest pas, am zis sa si propag aceasta intelepciune proaspat acumulata. Mai ales avand in vedere ca nu se gasesc foarte usor informatii, iar informatiile pe care le-am gasit nu au fost 100% satisfacatoare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prima notiune introdusa o data cu votul uninominal este aceea de colegiu uninominal. Tara este impartita in circumscriptii electorale, 41 la nivelul judetelor, una pentru Bucuresti si una pentru romanii din afara Romaniei. Ei, fiecare dintre aceste circumscriptii electorale este impartita in colegii uninominale. Adica e impartita pe zone mai mici, in functie de numarul locuitorilor din acea zona, incercandu-se a se rezulta colegii uninominale cu numere de votanti relativ egale (cel mai mare colegiu uninominal nu poate fi mai mare cu mai mult de 30% din cel mai mic colegiu uninominal). Este destul de logica aceasta impartire, avand in vedere ca oamenii din aceeasi zona geografica de obicei au aceleasi probleme comunitare, iar reprezentantul lor in parlament va putea sa se concentreze asupra lor exclusiv. pentru noi, populatia, e mai nasol, ca trebuie sa ne gasim apartenenta la vreun colegiu, si asta poate lua ceva timp. dar no worries, eliza to the rescue  &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/58.gif" /&gt;iata un loc unde puteti pur si simplu sa dati un search dupa colegiul vostru:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.thinkopolis.eu/tools/cauta/colegiu?brief=1" style="border: medium none ; overflow: hidden; width: 490px; height: 600px;"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bun, acum ca am stabilit care-i faza cu colegiul uninominal si ca, sper, toata lumea stie la ce colegiu este repartizat, sa purcedem mai departe &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/26.gif" /&gt; Pentru fiecare colegiu uninominal exista niste candidati din partea partidelor politice sau independenti (fiecare dupa posibilitati). Un candidat independent va castiga un loc in parlament in cazul in care, in cadrul colegiului sau, primeste 50% + 1 din voturi. In cazul unui candidat din partea unui partid politic, lucrurile sunt putin mai complicate. Ramane conditia necesara de a primi 50% + 1 din voturi in colegiul sau, insa, pentru a putea intra in parlament trebuie si ca partidul sau sa treaca, la nivel national, de o cota de voturi (5% din voturile totale, cred)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ar mai fi ceva de zis in privinta numarului de colegii uninominale, care difera pentru senat si pentru camera deputatilor, insa, sincer, eu nu m-am lamurit asupra aspectului astuia, asa ca nu stiu ce sa va zic deocamdata. Puteti gasi ceva mai multe informatii despre sistemul de vot, si probabil explicate mai bine, &lt;a href="http://infoalegeri.ro/?page_id=538"&gt;aici&lt;/a&gt; si &lt;a href="http://www.thinkopolis.eu/"&gt;aici&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bun, acum ca am terminat cu partea explicativa, sa vedem ce mai ramane de spus. Ca in orice alt caz, incurajez fervent mersul la vot. Pentru ca, in primul rand, daca nu mergi la vot, nu ai nici un drept sa te plangi ca ceva nu merge asa cum vrei tu. Pentru ca, daca nu mergi la vot, ti se poate foarte usor fura votul (asta pentru mine e foarte important, chiar daca nu imi place nici un candidat, eu tot merg la vot, macar sa stiu ca pun eu 2 stampile pe buletinul de vot, nu ca altcineva voteaza pentru mine). E important sa mergi la vot pentru ca, daca la un moment dat vom reusi sa demonstram ca le pasa majoritatii indeajuns de mult incat sa se prezinte la vot, poate si alesii isi vor da mai mult silinta, in loc sa doarma in post. E important sa mergem la vot pentru ca pe langa noi, cei care putem lua o decizie informata cu privire la pe cine votam, sunt o multime de oameni fara educatie, sau fara discernamantul necesar, care voteaza cum ce le zice primarul din satul lor, sau cum ce le zice preotul, sau care pur si simplu voteaza in functie de cat de draguta li se pare sigla partidului sau numele candidatului. Cu atat mai mult, incurajez mersul la vot acum, pentru ca e prima oportunitate de a verifica eficienta acestui sistem de vot uninominal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stiu ca multi dintre voi sunteti scarbiti de politicienii romani, de scandalurile din politica, de coruptie si asa mai departe. si eu sunt scarbita. dar ideea e ca absenteismul la vot nu e solutia pentru a arata aceasta atitudine dezaprobatoare. daca stam sa ne gandim, din istoria lumii, cati oameni au castigat vreo batalie intelectuala nezicand nimic? Cati oameni cunoasteti carora sa le fi fost dat ceea ce isi doreau, ceea ce meritau, fara ca mai intai sa ceara?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In plus, ganditi-va cati bani se arunca pe campaniile electorale ale candidatilor de anul asta. pana acuma macar se promova numai partidul, de-acum trebuie bugete mult mai mari ca sa se promoveze fiecare candidat, pentru fiecare colegiu, pentru fiecare circumscriptie. Numai pentru toti banii aia cu care s-ar fi putut face multe alte lucruri si parca m-as duce la vot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ritmul in care se voteaza la noi in tara, as zice sa se introduca votul cenzitar - nu voteaza decat cei care au o avere de minimum 100.000 euro. Sau o alternativa a acestuia, votul in functie de educatie. sa nu aiba voie sa voteze decat cei care au o facultate. V-ar conveni? Si daca nu v-ar conveni sa nu aveti drept de vot, de ce nu vi-l exercitati acum, cand il aveti?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2096622370532661753?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2096622370532661753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2096622370532661753' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2096622370532661753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2096622370532661753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/10/cultura-civica.html' title='Cultura civica'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7746839256687555378</id><published>2008-10-15T11:45:00.014+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T21:26:36.567+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imobilizant'/><title type='text'>All the blondes in the house raise your left hand up... your OTHER left.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ma uitam mai deunazi pe MTV (da, stiu, programele TV la care ma uit eu sunt de maaare angajament intelectual, dar asta doar pentru ca eu oricum sunt de o inteligenta enciclopedica - asa cum a spus profesoara care mi-a dat 9 la licenta - si nu mai am nevoie sa ma intelectualizez de la televizor).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cum incepusem sa spui, ma uitam la un show plin de informatii valoroase, anume My Super Sweet 16, in care ne arata noua, ponositilor romani, cum fetiscane americane (cred ca am dat o data si peste un tip, da' nu e relevant) isi fac party-ul catrali-mileniului cu ocazia implinirii a minunatei varste de 16 ani, varsta la care se pot considera mature si responsabile, pentru ca isi iau carnetul de sofer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa, si uitandu-ma eu, cu unghia pregatita in zona gatului, vad ca era vorba despre petrecerea unei fete blonde. Minunat, nimic deosebit pana acum, ca doar mult popor e blond. Dar stati, ca n-am gatit povestirea! Incepe tipa prin a se prezenta. Si zice ca ea toata viata a fost invidiata, pentru ca lumea o privea ca pe o Barbi, (saraca) fata blonda bogata. In gandul meu, fara prejudecati ce tin de culoarea parului, zic "Ah, si sa vezi ca acuma o sa demonstreze ea ca nu-i asa, ca de fapt e o persoana inteligenta-ne-snoaba-ne-rasfatata-ne-prihanita." Continua cu prezentarea situatiei sale familiale, zicand ca tac-su e divortat de muma-sa si da sa ne faca turul casei lui (o fi zis sa faca si un pseudo-Cribs while she's on Her Super Sweet Sixteen). Incepe cu parcarea, unde erau parcate vreo doua masini si, aratand spre o masina alba zice "This is a ...&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/106.gif" /&gt;... Mercedes?" Iar camera de filmat ne arata ditamai logoul Mercedes pe masina, la vedere, ca la comunitatile de tigani care isi tin masinile in fata casei, desi au garaje disponibile, dar ca sa se vada firma. Bun, trecem la turul casei in sine, care a constat doar in prezentarea baii (wtf? &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/39.gif" /&gt;). Si aratand catre un echipament igienico-sanitar, zice "I think this is the toilet". Nu ar fi fost atat de prostovana la faza asta daca ar fi avut dreptate. Dar ce sa vezi, instalatia respectiva era un bideu  &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/40.gif" /&gt; &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/30.gif" /&gt; Tare as fi vrut sa o vad folosind acel bideu pentru scopurile pe care si le inchipuia duduia ca este acolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mkay, for all you blondes (metaphoric code for "stupid" i mean), let me help you shit where you're supposed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_paeUoE6HA4o/SPWyfERPRdI/AAAAAAAAAGo/IxAbizCFTuY/s1600-h/HomeToiletImage2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 218px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_paeUoE6HA4o/SPWyfERPRdI/AAAAAAAAAGo/IxAbizCFTuY/s400/HomeToiletImage2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257304386816656850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a toilet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_paeUoE6HA4o/SPW2eZ6MKlI/AAAAAAAAAHI/fSMl7qWZ0KM/s1600-h/mf051.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_paeUoE6HA4o/SPW2eZ6MKlI/AAAAAAAAAHI/fSMl7qWZ0KM/s200/mf051.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257308773492206162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And THIS is a bidet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, for those who need more time to comprehend:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_paeUoE6HA4o/SPW0Bv1GsUI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Zazo-rxHJZM/s1600-h/American_Toilet_b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 206px; height: 206px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_paeUoE6HA4o/SPW0Bv1GsUI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Zazo-rxHJZM/s320/American_Toilet_b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257306082136994114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toilet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_paeUoE6HA4o/SPW0UMGSDkI/AAAAAAAAAHA/DfEjmMCH3nA/s1600-h/iace_1970_bidet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 269px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_paeUoE6HA4o/SPW0UMGSDkI/AAAAAAAAAHA/DfEjmMCH3nA/s320/iace_1970_bidet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257306398962880066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bidet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mkay?! &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/26.gif" /&gt;Happy crapping!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Am fost fascinata de bideuri si am uitat sa spun ca donshoara a cucerit si Europa. S-a dus la Paris sa-si gaseasca rochie unicat (pe care a dat vreo 7000 E) si si-a angajat un fashion stylist. Prima intrebare pe care i-a pus-o tipa duduii a fost "Cunosti creatiile lui John Galliano (si inca cineva, nu mai stiu cine)?", iar fatuca se uita la ea de parca ii spunea de un Nea Mustata, cojocarul din Cucuietii din Deal. Cu aceeasi fata, dupa nu stiu cate ore de umblat prin magazine, o intreaba fatuca pe stilista "Dar rochii americane nu aveti aici?" Like... ma rog, nici nu-mi mai bat capul &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/tsmileys2/28.gif" alt="[-(" width="18" height="18" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7746839256687555378?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7746839256687555378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7746839256687555378' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7746839256687555378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7746839256687555378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/10/all-blondes-in-house-raise-your-left.html' title='All the blondes in the house raise your left hand up... your OTHER left.'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_paeUoE6HA4o/SPWyfERPRdI/AAAAAAAAAGo/IxAbizCFTuY/s72-c/HomeToiletImage2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-3247225458883696302</id><published>2008-10-11T17:35:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T16:18:15.699+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Prostitutie pe blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru voi, astia 2-3 care imi cititi blogul mai mult decat ocazional, stiti ca nu obisnuiesc sa pun videoclipuri, muzica si alte chestii d-astea distractive, dar traim vremuri de restriste si trebuie sa ne adaptam. Facem si noi ce putem sa avem un trafic cat mai mare, sa ne citesca lumea... in principiu ne prostituam pentru cateva clickuri pe blog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/15.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu, acuma serios, am gasit o chestie pe youtube care chiar merita. Merita sa-l vada cat mai multi oameni, merita sa il copiem, merita sa ne ofticam ca noi nu suntem asa de destepti incat sa ne fi gandit primii la asta. Adevarul e ca mi-as dori si eu sa fi facut ceva de genul asta, sau sa fac la un moment dat in viitor. Sau bine, hai sa nu fiu egoista, mi-as dori sa faca oricine asa ceva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a look:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/d8y1e-z1JA0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/d8y1e-z1JA0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later edit:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5cGvqs-jf_w&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5cGvqs-jf_w&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-3247225458883696302?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/3247225458883696302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=3247225458883696302' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3247225458883696302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3247225458883696302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/10/prostitutie-pe-blog.html' title='Prostitutie pe blog'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7565050307074513876</id><published>2008-10-01T13:53:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T14:09:34.557+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Limba noastra-i o comoara</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca in ultimul timp am o prezenta ciudat de activa pe blog si vreau sa prelungesc un pic fenomenul asta nespecific, dar si pentru ca de ceva vreme am un nou subiect de culturalizare (din categoria trivia, adica) pentru voi pe care il tot aman, iata-ma din nou &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/48.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De data asta nu mai pun nici o intrebare, ca mi-e lene sa stau in suspans si sa va astept raspunsurile. De data asta va dau, pur si simplu, o informatie, oarecum paradoxala:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Cuvantul "istorie" este un neologism.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(neologismele sunt cuvinte care au intrat de curand intr-o limba, fie printr-un imprumut din alta limba, fie prin crearea din mijloace proprii - asta pentru ca nu pot fi sigura cine imi citeste blogul &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/4.gif" /&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma rog, acuma daca voi vreti sa comentati pe tema asta, nu va opreste nimeni, ca ma gandesc ca poate nu am zis eu tot ce era de zis pe subiect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7565050307074513876?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7565050307074513876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7565050307074513876' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7565050307074513876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7565050307074513876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/10/limba-noastra-i-o-comoara.html' title='Limba noastra-i o comoara'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7995245933239666376</id><published>2008-09-26T23:55:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T12:06:15.759+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Top 5'/><title type='text'>Bilant</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Azi am trecut pe strada pe langa profesoara mea de religie din generala. M-am uitat atent la ea, nu am recunoscut-o din prima, insa ea era. Si ea s-a uitat la mine, dar mai mult ca sigur ca nu a stiut cine sunt si de ce ma holbez asa. In 7 ani, lumea se schimba. Cand imi era mie profesoara, ea era tanara, vesela si avea o privire buna, linistita. A mai imbatranit, probabil pentru ca peste fata i s-a asezat ca un val o expresie terna, trista chiar, aproape scarbita de lumea din jur. Oare eu cand m-am schimbat asa de mult, de nu ma mai recunosc oamenii pe strada? Am crescut chiar asa de mult in ultimii 7 ani?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top 5 schimbari&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Sunt mai mandra acum. Am si de ce, pana la urma. Am facut o facultate, sunt in stare sa-mi argumentez un discurs, felul de a fi si sunt oameni care isi pun increderea in mine, personal si profesional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Nu mai sunt asa de speriata. Nu mi-e frica de faptul ca o sa fiu pedepsita, sau ca o sa fiu judecata pentru ceva ce am facut, sau ca am inselat asteptarile cuiva. Nu ca nu m-ar interesa daca insel asteptarile oamenilor, dar, in primul rand, nu prea fac asta, iar daca se intampla (ca oameni suntem doar), nu sunt speriata. Sunt frustrata, sunt dezamagita de mine insami, sunt enervata. Dar nu mi-e frica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Gandesc pentru mine insami zilele astea. Daca in generala acceptam unele lucruri de bune, ma supuneam parerilor celorlati, acum sunt in stare si chiar tin sa imi croiesc singura drumul. Normal, sunt si acum persoane care au o influenta machiavelica asupra mea, fata de care voi avea mereu o atitudine de adolescenta (rebela, dar ascultatoare). Dar s-au imputinat considerabil cu timpul si majoritatea au influenta asta asupra mea pentru ca le port un respect deosebit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Am invatat sa nu mai visez. Stati, asta nu e de rau. Nu mai visez in sensul ca, daca vreau ceva, imi fac si un plan ca sa-l obtin. Nu mai am idealuri copilaresti, am obiective de indeplinit. Unii ar spune ca sunt prea ambitioase, dar eu cred cu tarie ca sunt realizabile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Am devenit o persoana mai buna. Nu stiu exact cand, dar am adoptat un mod de gandire liberal. Adica, desi am un set de principii foarte clare si, poate, rigide, am invatat sa accept faptul ca setul asta nu il pot aplica decat cu privire la mine. Ceea ce mie mi se poate parea normal, ceea ce e bine pentru mine, pentru altii poate fi prea mult. Sau prea putin, dupa caz. Si asta, mi-am dat eu seama, nu e rau. E diferit. To each his own. Singura pretentie de la ceilalti pe care o am eu este ca si ei sa aplice acest mod de gandire asupra mea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ca un bilant, I've come a long way in 7 years, if I can say so myself. Obiectivul meu, de a realiza tot ce vreau in viata pana la 45 de ani, este on track.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7995245933239666376?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7995245933239666376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7995245933239666376' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7995245933239666376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7995245933239666376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/09/bilant.html' title='Bilant'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4200903567422224279</id><published>2008-09-23T22:43:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T23:13:37.285+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ma trec ganduri'/><title type='text'>Numaratoarea</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Au trecut 6 ani, 2 luni si 9 zile de cand te-am vazut ultima oara. As vrea sa cred ca tot ceea ce am facut de atunci am facut pentru mine, ca de-atunci si pana acum am devenit un om mai bun, insa adevarul e ca in acesti 6 ani totul, dar absolut totul, a avut legatura cu tine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uneori faceam lucrurile pentru tine. Ma gandeam ca tie ti-ar placea. Cum ar fi, de exemplu, faptul ca merg mereu pe trotuarul de pe partea stanga a strazii. Asa mergeai tu, si desi nu am inteles niciodata de ce, pentru ca nu mi-ai explicat niciodata, acum si eu fac la fel. Sau faptul ca m-am apucat de fumat. Cu fumul de tigara atarnand de mana te simt mereu langa mine. Asa cum, de altfel, ma duc la toate filmele frantuzesti pe care le gasesc in orasul asta. Ce limba infecta si ce povesti ciudate - nu le voi intelege niciodata, dar sper sa iti recunosc spatele intr-una din salile astea de cinematograf. Toti prietenii mei cred ca imi plac filmele alea, dar adevarul-adevarat e ca eu petrec mult mai mult timp cautandu-te pe tine pe unul din scaunele de langa mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uneori faceam lucrurile in ciuda ta. Port mereu tocuri, ca sa fiu mai inalta decat tine pentru ca tie nu ti-a placut niciodata asta la mine. Toti barbatii care mi-au trecut prin pat (puteau foarte bine sa poarte numere pe spate, oricum nu au fost decat o statistica), s-au aflat acolo pentru unicul scop de a mi te scoate din cap. Fiecare mangaiere de pe obrazul meu stergea zgarieturile pe care mi le lasase barba ta. Fiecare sarut pe care l-am acceptat, l-am acceptat doar pentru a-mi spala buzele de gustul tau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tot ce am facut in ultimii 6 ani, 2 luni, 9 zile si cateva ore, am facut ca sa scap de tine. Cred ca la un moment dat am reusit. Cred ca ala a fost momentul in care am scapat de tot. De ceva timp nu mai simt nimic. Nu-mi mai simt trupul mergand pe strada, nu-mi mai simt durerile de cap, nu mai simt cum ma uda ploaia, nu mai simt gustul victoriei. Nu mai simt. Singurele lucruri care ma impresioneaza sunt povestile. Atunci cand citesc, atunci doar, parca mai inteleg cate ceva. Cartile ma mai impresioneaza, atat. Trebuie ca am citit peste 200 de carti in ultimii 6 ani. Citesc, si in fiecare carte sper sa ma regasesc alaturi de tine, sa ne fi reintalnit, sa ne fi iertat unul pe altul si sa fim fericiti. Dar in fiecare roman suntem despartiti, eu la un capat, tu la celalalt si parca nici nu vrem sa ne mai intalnim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-e teama ca nu ne vom intalni niciodata. Pe mine nu ma intristeaza asta, nu ma mai intristeaza nimic - nici copiii care mor de foame, nici mamele care isi plang fiii cazuti in razboi, nici bolnavii pe paturile de spital. Ce e realitatea fara tine? Iti zic eu - e ca o sala de asteptare cu bon de ordine catre o lume pe care speri ca poti sa ti-o construiesti singur, asa cum vrei tu. Si cred ca se apropie numarul meu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4200903567422224279?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4200903567422224279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4200903567422224279' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4200903567422224279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4200903567422224279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/09/numaratoarea.html' title='Numaratoarea'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-1337939668702169542</id><published>2008-09-18T12:43:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T21:24:37.332+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Jocuri de cuvinte</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mi-am atras asupra mea o alta leapsa de la Ela. Ca tot n-am mai zis de o vreme ceva despre mine, personal, am zis ca ar fi un moment oportun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. vorba preferata: muica. sau statusurile mele de pe mess, daca ne referim la expresii. &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/16.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. vorba detestata: fata &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/62.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. drogul favorit: libertatea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. sunetul preferat: respiratia din ce in ce mai apasata a celuilalt, in momente...hmm... apropiate. &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/15.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. sunetul detestat: certurile altora si tipetele unei femei batute de barbat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. ce zic la nervi: cacat, de morti, sau un cuvant d-asta de patru litere, pe care o doamna nu ar trebui sa-l spuna niciodata. &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/65.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. pe bancnota punem pe: putem sa punem o vaca? &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/5.gif" /&gt; ar fi funny... si s-ar potrivi pentru romania. sau un surfer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. meseria strict interzisa pentru mine: mama. i would fuck that kid up for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. ma voi reincarna in: hippioata din anii '60 (sa fim seriosi, daca admitem posibilitatea reincarnarii, de ce sa nu ma reincarnez in trecut?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. In acea zi, Dumnezeu mi-ar spune: mai dati-i o sansa, mai dati-i o sansa! &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/21.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-1337939668702169542?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/1337939668702169542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=1337939668702169542' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1337939668702169542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1337939668702169542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/09/jocuri-de-cuvinte_18.html' title='Jocuri de cuvinte'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-1609137240517441739</id><published>2008-09-15T22:07:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T22:16:34.408+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imobilizant'/><title type='text'>Curiozitati din scena sociala</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Discutie intr-un bar:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Am fost in Sibiu, sa punem in scena o piesa de teatru.&lt;br /&gt;- Da? Si tu ce rol ai jucat?&lt;br /&gt;- Am fost un dulap.&lt;br /&gt;- Sunt curios cum te deschideai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/15.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-1609137240517441739?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/1609137240517441739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=1609137240517441739' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1609137240517441739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1609137240517441739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/09/curiozitati-din-scena-sociala.html' title='Curiozitati din scena sociala'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-392092074861691543</id><published>2008-09-11T21:40:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T21:40:58.240+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Oare ce facultate trebuie sa faci sa sa iesi incompetent?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Uneori sunt uimita de cat de bine merge tara asta, avand in vedere cat de incapabili sunt oamenii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar sistemul educational, cu secretarele in frunte, este negul societatii. Adica bine, toti functionarii romani sunt ineficienti si reticienti la contactul cu masele, dar parca secretarele au un cult al lor, ghidandu-se dupa un decalog care incepe cu "Orice ai face, nu ajuta!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma resemnasem cu gandul ca secretarele de la mine din facultate sunt pline de entuziasm doar atunci cand e de stat degeaba, insa se pare ca este mai extinsa tumoarea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zic si eu, ca tot omul ce este obligat de societate, sa aplic la un master. Fa research extensiv, ca nu vrei sa dai tot in facultatea de "stiati ca...", gaseste-ti master la care sa nici nu platesti nimic, sa nici nu dai examen de admitere, sa-ti si placa, sa fie si util. Evident, nu a fost posibil, insa macar researchul sa fie facut ca la carte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buuun. Prima problema e ca oamenii astia din sistemul educational traiesc prin anii 1980, cand calculatoarele erau bune doar pentru Solitaire. Pe siteuri, daca ai noroc sa gasesti niscaiva informatii, oricum nu sunt destule. Adresele de mail pentru responsabilul de master sunt date la deruta, in ideea ca, daca vede studentul ca nu merge, se da batut si nu ne mai deranjeaza. Gasisem si eu un master interesant pe la Limbi Straine si ma interesa care e procedeul de admitere. Pe site aveam bibliografie, insa cum anume trebuia sa folosim acea bibliografie - n-ai vedea. Ca si cum ii dai cuiva o lopata, dar nu ii zici unde si ce fel de groapa trebuie sa sape. Bun, inteleg, adrese de mail functionale n-aveti, dar nici telefoanele nu va merg?! Adica...vacanta, vacanta, dar pe 8 septembrie, cand incep inscrierile la master, voi unde sunteti?? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;am&gt;&lt;/am&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/23.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prea bine, zic, nu vine muntele la Eliza, las' ca dau eu buzna peste voi in secretariat si ma documentez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intru frumusel, un pic timida, ca nu cunosteam secretarele, si am zis sa par neajutorata, ca sa nu-mi sara la beregata din prima. In secretariat - mai multe birouri, fiecare cu secretara atasata, facand orice altceva decat ceva pentru care e platita conform contractului de munca. La fiecare birou, scria mare "Anul I", "Anul II", "Anul III", "Anul IV" si "Mater si doctorat". Ma duc la masterat, ma gandesc ca acolo ar fi informatii despre master. Astept 10 minute ca tanti sa termine de vorbit cu o colega despre chestii foooarte importante, timp in care ma mai legan de pe-un picior pe altul, in speranta ca observa ca ma plictisesc... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/45.gif" /&gt; ...dupa care ma baga in seama. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/62.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Buna ziua, as vrea si eu sa va intreb cateva lucruri despre unul din masterate"&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Papusa, nu la mine trebuia sa stai pentru masterate" [n-aveam ochelarii la mine, but I'm pretty sure that the sign didn't say "Information about nail polish"] "Eu ma ocup de masteranzii de anul II. Du-te la biroul la care scrie &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Anul IV&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mkay, that's not in the slightest stupid and everybody but me must have known about this rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma duc, acolo stau la coada, ca mai erau si alte studente nefericite, ca mine, si nu am obiceiul sa ma bag in fata. Inaintea mea mai erau 3 tipe, cu dosare de inscriere. Teoretic, secretara nu trebuia decat sa verifice ca sunt toate actele, sa le lege cu o agrafa si sa arunce dosarul peste teancul preexistent. Mie mi se pare o treaba de maxim un minut per dosar, insa doamna, respectandu-se, m-a bagat in seama de-abia dupa inca vreo 10-15 minute. Intre timp, eficienta urla in ea, ca doar altfel cum sa stai 40 de secunde (pe ceas) sa pui o agrafa peste 5 foi?? A mai primit un telefon pe mobil de la sotiorul ingrijorat ca munceste prea mult de ziua ei (pesemne o chema Maria). Ea a trebuit sa-i inchida si sa-l sune de pe fix, ca ce dracu, sa ne folosim de banii statului in interese pesonale si de timpul studentilor pentru a ne lamenta la telefon, sa vada toti cat de exploatati sunt unii. Adica nush, dar pe mine nu ma rabda pamantul sa stiu ca am 4 oameni langa mine de care trebuie sa ma ocup si io sa vorbesc 5 minute la telefon despre nimicuri, foarte calma, foarte relaxata si fara nici o rusine. Dup-aia s-a ridicat de pe scaun, sa-si mai dezmorteasca oasele un pic, de oboseala, ca doar era deja de 2 ore la serviciu. Se facea ca se duce sa ia ceva de undeva, ca parca ar cauta ceva, dar de gasit oricum n-a gasit si s-a intors la birou la timp tocmai pentru a intampina cutia de bomboane de ciocolata pe care o plimba alta Maria prin birou. Da-i, mai stai la taclale si cu aia un pic... sa nu fie ziua irosita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fine, ajunge randul meu si o intreb si eu, asa, de deschidere:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Buna ziua, as vrea sa va intreb si eu cateva lucruri despre masterul de Studii Est-Asiatice. In primul rand, se mai tine?"&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Da' de ce sa nu se tina?"&lt;br /&gt;Eu "Nu stiu, eu intreb, pentru ca, de exemplu, stiu ca masterul de Studii culturale balcanice nu se mai tine"&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Ei na, de unde ai tu informatia asta?"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Pai am vorbit pe e-mail cu profesoara coordonatoare a masterului si asa mi-a zis"&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Cu doamna Olteanu??"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Da."&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Pai si eu ce fac, ca toata ziua am facut inscrieri pentru masterul ala???"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Nu stiu, poate ar trebui sa discutati despre asta cu doamna Olteanu. Deci despre masterul de Studii Est-Asiatice nu stiti nimic cum ca nu s-ar mai tine?"&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Nu, eu stiu ca se tine"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Bun, am inteles, si puteti sa-mi spuneti si mie cate in ce va consta admiterea - scris, oral, media de la licenta?"&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Pai scrie pe site"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Nu, pe site este data doar o bibliografie, dar nu se zice care va fi metoda de evaluare"&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "A, pai du-te sa discuti despre asta cu domnisoara de acolo" Si imi arata catre o tanara care statea pe mess, ca de altfel tot restul secretarelor.&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Dar pana atunci, stiti cumva cate locuri sunt la buget?"&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Nu stiu, probabil in jur de 20, da nu stiu sigur. Du-te sa vorbesti cu domnisoara."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si iata ce usor a scapat de mine. Ma duc frumusel la a treia secretara, de data asta am avut un pic mai mult noroc, am facut rost de toate informatiile pe care le vroiam, inclusiv de adresa corecta de mail a coordonatorului de master, ca dactilografa site-ului vazuse o litera mai stramba si se hotarase sa o interpreteze cum a vrut ea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dau mail, sa ma conving, vazand ca nu pot pune baza pe ce zic secretarele, din moment ce ele nici nu stiu ce mastere mai exista in propria facultate. Coordonatorul imi raspunde extrem de schematic. Eu o intrebasem ce fel de examen se da si daca e scris, ce tip de subiecte, ea imi zice ca se da scris si oral, iar la scris un eseu. No shit, si eu care credeam ca imi dati grila.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/40.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bun, minunat, trec si peste acest obstacol de comunicare si intr-un final imi fac un top 3 de mastere la care vreau sa aplic. Doua la Litere, unul la Limbi Straine, intr-un final ma hotarasc asupra unuia de la Litere. Si dau sa-mi compun dosarul de inscriere. Ce sa vezi, diploma de Bac ia-o de unde nu-i. Situatie de criza in floare, ca imi trebuia in original, asa scria acolo, in documentatia lor. (Da, stiu, nu trebuie sa mi se spuna... cum dracu am fost in stare sa imi pierd diploma de Bac?! &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/102.gif" /&gt; Mi-am facut eu destula penitenta pentru asta, deja acuma sunt aloof)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intr-un final, vazand ca diploma mea s-a carbonizat si nu vrea sa apara si pace, zic sa dau telefon la secretariat, sa ma rog sa ma primeasca cu o copie legalizata, pentru ca nu e ca si cum nu aveam si adeverinta de licenta la dosar, in original, deci n-as mai fi putut aplica in alta parte la buget. Ma pregatesc moral sa fiu mustruluita serios, dupa care sa se faca o concesie si sa ma lase sa aplic si cu copia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Alo, buna ziua, am si eu o intrebare. Vreau sa aplic la masterul de la RISE, dar nu mai am diploma de Bac in original, nu o gasesc. Se poate cumva sa aplic cu o copie legalizata la dosar?"&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "Ah, nu stiu ce sa iti zic, suna in 10 minute, sa ma interesez"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun in 10 minute, evident ca mi se zice ca e absolut ok sa vin cu copia, nu a trebuit sa ma rog, nu a trebuit sa implor, sau sa dau explicatii suplimentare. Si totusi, pe documentatia data de ei scrie cu litere bolduite ca trebuie sa fie in original. Dar sa nu caut calul de dar, zic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fericita, ma duc la Drept sa platesc taxa de inscriere, stau la coada la unul dintre cele doua ghisee, pe sistemul "Avem doua, dar de ce sa munceasca doua persoane unde poate munci una singura si oamenii sa stea la rand?". Platesc, ajung si la Universitate sa imi depun dosarul si, cand dau sa ma uit pe avizier cum se cheama exact masterul, sa stiu ce trec pe formular, ia-l de unde nu-i. Ciudat. Intru in secretariat, intreb si eu ca prostu' "Nu va suparati, imi spuneti si mie exact cum se cheama masterul de la RISE, ca afara, la avizier, nu am gasit"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi se raspunde foarte senin "Aaaa...dar masterul de la RISE nu se mai tine..." &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/66.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Cum adica nu se mai tine?" [translation: Si la telefon nu puteati sa-mi spuneti asta de dimineata, cand v-am intrebat de diploma de bac?! #!$@*&amp;amp; ]&lt;br /&gt;Aia: "Pai nu se mai tine, ca nu au primit aprobare de la minister"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Deci sigur nu se mai tine?"&lt;br /&gt;Aia: "Nu, nu sigur, poate pana duminica se schimba ceva, dar cam in proportie de 80%...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great. Astia au impresia ca io sunt BCR, sa le citesc gandurile?! Nu puteau anunta pe site?? Trebuia neaparat sa dau 150 RON pe taxa de inscriere si sa aflu dup-aia ca masterul meu a fost dizolvat?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh...mda. Sa ne calmam. Sa incercam sa rezolvam situatia. Trecem la a doua optiune in ordinea ierarhica - masterul de la Limbi Straine. Daaaar, pe chitanta de la taxa de inscriere scrie clar ca am platit pentru Facultatea de Litere, deci daca nu vroiam sa arunc pe fereastra cu un milion jumate, trebuia sa ma inscriu la master la Litere. Norocul meu ca mai era un master care era la Litere la care as fi vrut sa ma inscriu, desi nu e practic in viitor, dar sa zicem ca il fac din pasiune, si dup-aia mor de foame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu mentiunea ca, in cazul in care se razgandesc aia de la minister cu masterul dizolvat, voi fi anuntata de secretara, sa vin sa imi schimb optiunea (yeah, right, de parca secretara o sa stea sa ma sune pe mine).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reiau, asadar, intrebarea de la care am pornit: exista o facultate speciala pentru secretare, unde invata trei ani de zile cum sa nu faca nimic in afara de a enerva lumea? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/39.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-392092074861691543?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/392092074861691543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=392092074861691543' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/392092074861691543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/392092074861691543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/09/oare-ce-facultate-trebuie-sa-faci-sa-sa.html' title='Oare ce facultate trebuie sa faci sa sa iesi incompetent?'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-952938225107861932</id><published>2008-09-08T22:51:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T21:48:43.044+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Semne de intrebare, semne de nebunie</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;stiu ca va plictisesc cu posturile astea asa serioase, promit ca urmeaza unul din categoria light, dar asta este mai scurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am o intrebare pentru voi: credeti ca este posibil ca cineva sa iubeasca o persoana de care este dispretuit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mie nu mi se pare posibil, dar as vrea sa aflu other sides of the story (si cateva argumente, daca se poate)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haideti, ajutati-mi bietii pitici de pe creier!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;multumesc, cu deosebit respect,&lt;br /&gt;eliza &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/48.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" spt="75" preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f"&gt;  &lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;  &lt;v:formulas&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;  &lt;/v:formulas&gt;  &lt;v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shapetype&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" style="'width:13.5pt;"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\liviu\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image001.gif" href="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/48.gif"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !vml]--&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" spt="75" preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f"&gt;  &lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;  &lt;v:formulas&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;  &lt;/v:formulas&gt;  &lt;v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shapetype&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" style="'width:13.5pt;"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\liviu\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image001.gif" href="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/48.gif"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-952938225107861932?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/952938225107861932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=952938225107861932' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/952938225107861932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/952938225107861932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/09/semne-de-intrebare-semne-de-nebunie_8487.html' title='Semne de intrebare, semne de nebunie'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-8872342113771808997</id><published>2008-09-02T01:12:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T01:50:42.387+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Stone-hearted bitch</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mi se spune ca as fi a stone-hearted bitch. Nu mi se reproseaza, si nici nu mi se zice foarte des, e mai mult asa... ca o critica constructiva. Si ma gandesc si eu cu mintea de apoi - o fi ceva in neregula cu mine? &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/106.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ca imi ridic ziduri de protectie si ca ma ascund dupa fatade mi-am dat eu seama de mult. Nu multa lume ma cunoaste, asa cum sunt de fapt. Nu fac asta dinadins, dar stiti cum vedeti prin filme tipologiile alea de oameni care au mecanisme de aparare si nu se infatiseaza sensibili in fata nimanui? Ei, cam asa si eu... dar nu chiar atat de penal (if i can say so myself).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intrebarea e - cand fatadele astea inceteaza sa mai fie o bravada si cand devin un mod de viata? &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/26.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tin minte perioade din viata cand sufeream. Sufeream des, mult, si, as zice acuma, fara rost. Dramatizam orice situatie, de parca se conspira impotriva mea si ma victimizam de parca eram cea mai napastuita fiinta de pe pamant. Nu eram fericita si din cauza asta nu imi aduc aminte cu foarte multa placere de perioada aia. Tin minte ca, pe la inceputul liceului, m-am despartit de un tip si, cica de suparare, nu am mai vorbit doua zile. Dar asa, ostentativ. Gandindu-ma in retrospectiva, imi dau seama cat de copilaresc a fost din partea mea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu exact cand, dar m-am schimbat. Nu zic, si acum dramatizez, dar nu dramatizez asa, nu dramatizez in mod mioritian si in nici un caz nu imi dramatizez problemele amoroase. Adica nu stiu ce parere au altii, dar mie, spre exemplu, mi se pare mai tragic ca se moare de foame, sau ca unii oameni se imbolnavesc pentru ca traiesc in conditii insalubre, decat faptul ca eu m-am despartit de cineva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu zic ca ar fi usor sa te desparti de cineva. Dar, in principiu, nu vad nici un motiv pentru care sa incarci lumea cu dramatismul tau. Adica una e sa incepi sa dai din gura in stanga si in dreapta "Fata, sa vezi ce mi-a facut Marinica, m-a parasit pentru alta si m-a distrus, sunt o epava, fara el nu mai pot trai" si sa-ti smulgi parul din cap, si alta e sa accepti faptul ca Marinica are dreptul sa fie fericit si poate pentru unii fericirea nu inseamna sa fie cicaliti de tine si atunci sa mergi mai departe, in incercarea de a gasi un alt nefericit cu chef sa fie cicalit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt unii pe lumea asta care, saracii, nu apuca sa cicaleasca pe nimeni, pentru ca sunt ostracizati de societate - ca n-au culoarea care trebuie, ca n-au religia care trebuie, sau cine mai stie ce n-au. Cu o asemenea perspectiva, eu ce drept as mai avea sa ma plang?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca sunt a stone-hearted bitch. Sau poate ca, pur si simplu, pun accent mai mult the big picture than my own passing moods.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-8872342113771808997?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/8872342113771808997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=8872342113771808997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/8872342113771808997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/8872342113771808997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/09/stone-hearted-bitch.html' title='Stone-hearted bitch'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6533430677485031126</id><published>2008-08-28T03:49:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:29:36.785+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Da, da, ati nimerit bine, tot AntiBlogul este</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Numai ca s-a mutat un pic mai la deal, la un etaj superior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avand in vedere ca prin iunie am implinit un an de locuit cu chirie in vila blogspot si nu am facut nimic sa-mi arat extazul, am hotarat ca e cazul de o zugraveala, niste mobila mai de Ikea, asa, ca se poarta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am plecat initial de la ideea de a modifica ce aveam p-acilea, sa-i pun niste tapet mai nou, sa mai inveselesc si io cumva peisajul, dar din una in alta am zis let's go for broke si mi-am pus toate economiile intr-un nou design.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greu, muica, sa blogaresti, cand esti asa de pretentios la decor. Am stat doua zile sa-mi aleg si io o tema generala, si cand am gasit-o p-aia care imi placea, am mai stat vreo 2 nopti si sa o montez. Cine iti zice de mobila de la Ikea, ca e usor de asamblat, minte, zic eu, nimic nu e usor de asamblat daca tie pe cutie iti zice ca ai doua picioare si doua manere la scaun, dar tu de fapt ai 3 picioare si atat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N-a iesit chiar cum vroiam io la inceput, dar deh, trebuie sa mai facem concesii, mai scurtam o perdea ca sa nu atinga podeaua, mai lasi in debara cate un dulap, ca nu mai avem loc de el in camera...asta e. Ar mai fi cateva tablouri pe care as vrea sa le agat pe undeva, da' sa vad daca mai pot da gauri prin pereti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru toti avizii de AntiBlog, imi cer scuze daca in ultima zi nu m-ati putut vizita. Stiu ca aici, la mine, e destul de primitor, racoros si primiti mereu bautura moca, dar acuma doar nu ati murit si voi o zi. Am zis ca in timpul in care sunt in renovare sa inchid cu cheia, ca sa fie surpriza mai mare. Ta daaaaaaaaaaa!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6533430677485031126?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6533430677485031126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6533430677485031126' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6533430677485031126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6533430677485031126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/08/da-da-ati-nimerit-bine-tot-antiblogul.html' title='Da, da, ati nimerit bine, tot AntiBlogul este'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-84160790742240804</id><published>2008-08-24T21:24:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:30:02.811+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Cand eram mica, eram mai proasta</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Now, I know that all the haters will try their funny stuff on my post title, like "lasa, ca nici acuma nu esti prea departe" sau vor considera ca sunt o blonda veritabila, dar my point is something else. Si anume, macar eu sunt in stare sa realizez chestia asta si, mai mult decat atat, am curajul sa imi recunosc the error of my ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywayzzzz &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/76.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-am dat seama de asta printr-o suma de intamplari recente. I realized that I was kinda judgemental. Bine, spre exemplu in liceu, it's like a duty to label people. One's a geek, one's a jock, one's a prom queen, one's a slut, one's just plain stupid. Si o data ce etichetezi pe cineva, problema e ca asa ramane pentru tine. Nu prea exista nuante de gri. Dar cum acum am mai crescut, pot spune fara indoiala ca, doar pentru ca tu nu ai aceleasi prioritati sau aceleasi gusturi sau acelasi simt al umorului, nu inseamna ca tu esti mai destept sau mai smecher decat celalalt sau invers. Inseamna, pur si simplu, ca aveti personalitati diferite and you should agree to disagree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si oricat de matur se considera un om in anii adolescenti, ma simt datoare sa ii anunt pe toti ca va descoperi in ceva timp ca nu e chiar asa matur. Adica don't take my word for it, i'm not a guru or anything, but you'll see. Dracu' se gandea in adolescenta la metode de crestere intelectuala - toate materiile de la scoala erau absolut inutile, iar profesorii si sistemul erau de cacat. Dracu' se gandea ca ar fi o idee mai buna sa mergi cu bicicleta - de-abia asteptam sa fac 18 ani si sa imi iau carnet si masina, ca sa pot intra in randul lumii adulte. Dracu' se gandea ca, pentru a avea o relatie care sa mearga este nevoie de mai mult decat scrisori de amor, sex si entuziasm - credeam ca daca am asa ceva, voi trai alaturi de un om toata viata, pana la adanci batraneti. Si dracu' isi inchipuia ca banii nu conteaza decat atunci cand ii ai - aveam impresia ca un job de-abia platit, dar la care ma duc din placere, o sa fie de ajuns pentru a fi fericita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate toate astea nu inseamna ca m-am mai desteptat, ci ca m-am mai blazat. Dar macar acum sunt in stare sa accept ca oamenii nu se impart in buni si rai, sau in prosti si destepti, si mai ales ca nimeni nu e de invinuit daca face ce e mai bine pentru el, chiar daca asta inseamna ca pentru altii e mai rau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uneori mi-e greu sa recunosc, dar daca as avea posibiliatea sa ma intalnesc cu versiunea mea din liceu, as lua-o la palme. In lipsa de a way to bend the time-space continuum, as vrea macar sa impartasesc aceste constatari celor care ar avea nevoie de un reality check, dar problema e ca la 16 ani nimeni nu ii asculta pe cei mai mari. Pacat. Mare pacat. The youth is really wasted on the young.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-84160790742240804?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/84160790742240804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=84160790742240804' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/84160790742240804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/84160790742240804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/08/cand-eram-mica-eram-mai-proasta.html' title='Cand eram mica, eram mai proasta'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5163427157924026779</id><published>2008-08-12T17:19:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:30:38.647+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>I am not obsessed. I just feel really strongly about stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am primit o leapsa de la &lt;a href="http://ela.citadela.com/"&gt;Ela&lt;/a&gt;. Sa vorbesc despre obsesiile mele. Nu ma deranjeaza lepsele astea, mai ales cand nu sunt completely moronic, dar am o problema in a le da mai departe, in ideea ca nu vreau sa impun cuiva despre ce sa vorbeasca pe blog. Asa ca, avand in vedere ca leapsa asta mi se pare ok, o voi continua pe blogusorul meu, dar pe filiera asta se va opri aici.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bun. Deci despre obsesii. Nu stiu. Nu prea mai am. In tinerete aveam fel de fel de fixatii pe fel de fel de chestii, dar acum cred ca m-am mai maturizat un pic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Definitely, una din obsesiile mele e muzica, in sensul in care nu pot face nimic fara muzica. Merg pe strada - muzica in casti. In masina - muzica. Acasa, muzica, eventual calculatorul intr-o camera cu muzica, iar in cealalta camera televizorul pe VH1 (sau ma rog, de curand am descoperit si MTV One). Lucrez mai bine cu muzica, invat mai bine cu muzica. In principiu gandesc pe muzica. Dar daca ma intreaba cineva ce muzica imi place, ma pune in dificultate. Pentru ca sun fan hip-hop, Billie Holiday, The Rolling Stones, Zdob si Zdub, Led Zeppelin si Arctic Monkeys in acelasi timp. Si multi altii, evident. Dar uite, obsesiv vorbind, melodia mea preferata este cred subiect de obsesie - Scar Tissue de la RHCP. In sensul ca imi place asa, fara vreun motiv deosebit, pur si simplu, e mai mult ceva intrinsec, nu pot explica. Like we were meant to be together &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/15.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O alta obsesie sunt serialele TV. La care ma uit pe calculator. Si aici nu ma refer la serialele astea smechere la care se uita toata lumea, gen Lost sau mai stiu eu ce. Eu ma uit la seriale din-alea sappy, gen Gossip Girl si One Tree Hill. Adica ma rog, I've seen them all. Intr-adevar, de ceva timp, mi-am mai largit gama, am descoperit mai intai Friends, apoi Nip/ Tuck, apoi Entourage. Ma uitam si la Californication, sper sa mai aiba un sezon si acum, in toamna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obsedata sunt si de cuvinte. Imi place sa stiu formele corecte, sa stiu cuvinte, chestii d-astea. Pot parea o tocilara, dar pentru mine este fun. Si mi se pare important sa-mi cunosc limba materna... nu? Si alta obsesie, cu care enervez tot poporul, probabil, e ca nu ma pot abtine sa nu corectez pe toata lumea atunci cand face careva vreo greseala de exprimare. Uneori nici nu ma intereseaza ca greseala e intentionata, sunt ca un animal de prada care goes for the jugular, even if it's the jugular of a stuffed animal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O obsesie mai veche a mea este Hawaii. Cred ca intrupeaza definitia libertatii pentru mine. In tineretile mele departate imi inchipuiam ca voi ajunge sa traiesc in Hawaii, intr-o casa pe plaja, cu hamac pe veranda, cu un caine langa mine si in fiecare dimineata as fi facut surfing. Bine, de atunci si pana acuma am ajuns la concluzia ca vreau sa calatoresc in toata lumea, nu  numai in Hawaii, deci obsesia asta s-a mai estompat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu ce alte obsesii mai am. Am diverse pasiuni, dar atata vreme cat nu tind spre patologic, nu cred ca sunt relevante aici. Cred ca sunt o persoana destul de normala, in sensul ca sunt open-minded si imi place sa incerc orice lucru nou, asa incat nu prea am cum sa dezvolt obsesii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ar fi haios sa vad cum ma percep si cei din jurul meu though. Voi ce obsesii mi-ati atribui? &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/5.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5163427157924026779?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5163427157924026779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5163427157924026779' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5163427157924026779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5163427157924026779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-am-not-obsessed-i-just-feel-really.html' title='I am not obsessed. I just feel really strongly about stuff'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-381656945787945615</id><published>2008-08-06T17:20:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:30:59.511+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>MTV is homophobic</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Azi pe MTV am vazut din intamplare Top 10 at 10. Guess what it said? "Top 10 at 10 gay singers". &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/13.gif" /&gt; I'm guessing ca cei de la MTV au impresia ca artistii gay sunt o specie separata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep watching. Up next: top 10 crazy bitches and top 10 niggers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-381656945787945615?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/381656945787945615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=381656945787945615' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/381656945787945615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/381656945787945615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/08/mtv-is-homophobic.html' title='MTV is homophobic'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6155904543594211479</id><published>2008-07-29T19:31:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:31:15.010+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Despre furt and other four letter words</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am devenit constienta de curand ca ar exista o persoana care ar vrea sa primeasca lucrarea mea de diploma pe cd, pentru a o folosi in scopuri nu tocmai etice. Ceea ce m-a facut sa ma gandesc. Lasand la o parte intrebarea capitalista "cati bani mi-ar da pentru ea?", oare as vrea sa fac ceva de genul asta?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Concluzia la care am ajuns e ca, indiferent de suma de bani pe care mi-ar flutura-o cineva pe sub nas, nu mi-as incredinta lucrarea de diploma altcuiva, pentru a o folosi cu numele schimbat. Nu pentru ca nu mi se pare etic. Sau pentru ca i-as face un defavor respectivei persoane. Guess I'm not so selfless. Dar nu mi se pare corect fata de mine ca, dupa ce am muncit un an (chiar mai mult, daca ne gandim de cand am inceput sa fac research) la lucrarea aia, dupa ce am gandit-o singura in cele mai mici detalii, dupa ce am pus in ea atata pasiune... sa o predau altcuiva care sa se prefaca cum ca ar fi pus la fel de multa pasiune in ea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As prefera mai degraba sa fac eu o noua lucrare de licenta, de la capat, pe gratis, decat sa o dau pe a mea altcuiva. Ciudat e ca pana acum nu am avut niciodata o problema de genul asta, cu nici un proiect, nici o lucrare, nici un test. But there you have it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I a really bad person? Voi pe cat v-ati vinde acestui Mefisto universitar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6155904543594211479?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6155904543594211479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6155904543594211479' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6155904543594211479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6155904543594211479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/07/despre-furt-and-other-four-letter-words.html' title='Despre furt and other four letter words'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2846819322071995145</id><published>2008-07-17T20:19:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:31:30.952+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Top 5'/><title type='text'>Da, stiu ca n-am mai scris de mult.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Asta este, stiu ca sunt ca aerul pentru ochii vostri de internauti, dar uneori viata merita traita, nu scrisa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Top 5 ce-as face acum daca...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;5. As gati, daca as avea pentru cine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. As munci, daca mi-as gasi odata un job ca lumea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Mi-as lipi posterele pe perete, daca as avea niste scotch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. As scrie o carte, daca nu mi-ar fi lene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. As calatori prin toata lumea cu rucsacul in spate, daca as avea bani si tupeu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In lipsa de toate astea, mai scriu pe blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2846819322071995145?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2846819322071995145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2846819322071995145' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2846819322071995145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2846819322071995145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/07/da-stiu-ca-n-am-mai-scris-de-mult.html' title='Da, stiu ca n-am mai scris de mult.'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4187300644811973748</id><published>2008-07-02T14:35:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:31:46.310+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>"Auzi, papusa, de unde ai luat covrigii aia, ca vreau sa te fut"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Astazi vom aduce in discutie gandirea baietilor. Nu a tuturor. A unora mai rasariti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stiti tipii aia pe langa care trec fetele pe strada si primesc apelative de genul "papusa" sau "printesa" sau remarce ca "ce fund misto ai", "hai sa ne-o tragem" sau altele mai triviale si mai inspirate? Nu-i inteleg pe tipii astia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adica... does that EVER work? Exista vreo fata care sa fi rasplatit o asemenea replica nu cu un numar de telefon sau o intalnire, dar macar cu un zambet?? Si daca nu asta este scopul replicilor astora, atunci care e scopul? Hai sa incercam sa injosim fetele care arata bine, ca sa aratam ca putem? Exista vreun campionat secret de "cele mai penale replici de agatat"? Mie mi se pare ca se injosesc pe ei insisi si, in loc sa castige incredere in ei, asa cum se presupune ca e de dorit, it's like... an anti-ego boost. Ca ma indoiesc ca atunci cand o tipa trece pe langa ei indiferenta, sau cand se uita urat la ei, sau cand reactioneaza cu o replica taioasa tipii sunt brusc mai increzatori in sine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And whatever happened to the good old fashion way of picking up girls? You know, like... a witty remark, or at least a nice look and then an introduction? Adica, ma gandesc si eu, daca mai vine la mine un singur tip care sa-mi zica ce ochi frumosi am, crezand ca e cel mai original om de pe pamant, cred ca o sa imi pierd definitiv increderea in inteligenta baietilor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bine, pe de alta parte, mie mi s-ar parea putin ciudat sa vina un necunoscut la mine pe strada si sa-i dau numarul meu de telefon si sa ma intalnesc cu el, oricat de originala si cute ar fi replica pe care mi-o da. Cred ca ar fi un pic creepy. Nu as sti nimic despre tipul ala. Daca poarta chiloti roz?! Daca nu se spala in urechi?! Oare americanii cum reusesc? &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/39.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca imi poate reabilita cineva credinta ca baietii au si replici inteligente, va poftesc sa ma uimiti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4187300644811973748?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4187300644811973748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4187300644811973748' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4187300644811973748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4187300644811973748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/07/auzi-papusa-de-unde-ai-luat-covrigii.html' title='&quot;Auzi, papusa, de unde ai luat covrigii aia, ca vreau sa te fut&quot;'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-898286329025603460</id><published>2008-06-23T20:13:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:32:13.568+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Azi am vazut un manelist</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;...care isi asculta manelele la casti &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/41.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-898286329025603460?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/898286329025603460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=898286329025603460' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/898286329025603460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/898286329025603460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/06/azi-am-vazut-un-manelist.html' title='Azi am vazut un manelist'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7736887083529120226</id><published>2008-06-14T00:38:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:32:50.349+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Continuam culturalizarea</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;O noua intrebare din categoria trivia, dar de data asta vom diversifica sursa raspunsului. Pentru a da tuturor o sansa, vom folosi ca referinta nesfarsitul izvor de intelepciune din dialogul personajelor din &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/tsmileys2/04.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Why are women [in average] shorter than men?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(hint: raspunsul se afla prin sezonul 6 &lt;img src="http://mail.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/tsmileys2/03.gif" /&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Later edit: In episodul 3, sezonul 6:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phoebe: Ninety percent of a women’s pheromones come out the top of her head! That’s why, that’s why women are shorter. So that men will fall in love when they hug them! (Ross is staring at her dumbfounded.) Oh come on Ross, you’re a scientist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7736887083529120226?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7736887083529120226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7736887083529120226' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7736887083529120226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7736887083529120226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/06/continuam-culturalizarea.html' title='Continuam culturalizarea'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-2178879448949162676</id><published>2008-06-11T18:36:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:33:05.905+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>P de la "pentru prieteni"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sau de la publicitate, if you wanna get into specifics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am un prieten, care este un om foarte priceput in ceea ce face, si care, pe deasupra, este si foarte haios, desi de cele mai multe ori e greu sa-ti dai seama daca glumeste sau este serios. Dar tocmai de-aia are farmec ceea ce zice el.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa, si acest prieten are el niste invarteli, niste combinatii, niste afaceri si mai face si &lt;a href="http://www.baicover.ro/"&gt;site-uri&lt;/a&gt;, printre altele, si umila mea parere e ca se pricepe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-am gandit sa-i dau asa, un avant, sa-l fac cunoscut printre cei 4 cititori pe zi ai mei, poate isi gaseste vreun client, ca dup-aia o sa trebuiasca sa imi faca cinste si poate, cine stie, cand o sa fie cel mai bogat om din Romania, o sa imi cumpere si mie o casuta la munte or smth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca este cineva impresionat la talentele lui de web-designer, sunt disponibila pentru a-i da datele lui de contact (din principiu, nu dau nume pe blog, ca cine stie ce stalkers intra pe aici din greseala si dup-aia mi-l am pe constiinta pe dragul de Vali. A... oops &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/65.gif" /&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-2178879448949162676?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/2178879448949162676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=2178879448949162676' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2178879448949162676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/2178879448949162676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/06/p-de-la-pentru-prieteni.html' title='P de la &quot;pentru prieteni&quot;'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-199503613377332498</id><published>2008-06-06T16:38:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:33:25.363+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Trivia</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Daca tot sunt zilele astea la categoria "stuff I learned in college" (ca-mi invat pentru licenta), voi introduce un nou concept in blogusor, macar sa profite cat mai multa lume de genialitatea profesorilor mei. Vreau sa fac Antiblogul un pic mai interactiv, si prin asta inteleg un pic mai mult decat a va da cu parerea despre variatele mele talente sau povestiri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astfel, voi pune cate o intrebare (cel mai probabil de cultura, ca mie astea mi se par mai interesante) si va astept raspunsurile creative &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/105.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raspunsul il voi da si eu, intr-un later edit al postului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intrebarea de astazi: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;De ce o femeie, atunci cand isi scoate tigara din gura, isi indreapta mana in sus?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, cititorii care imi impartasesc facultatea poate intarzie un pic cu raspunsul corect, sa le vedem logica si celorlalti &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/3.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck! &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/54.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Later edit: Femeile isi indreapta mana in sus atunci cand isi scot tigara din mana pentru a-si dezgoli si scoate in evidenta incheietura. In trecut, incheietura mainii era una dintre putinele parti ale corpului care puteau fi aratate in public si care, in acelasi timp, erau considedrate senzuale.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-199503613377332498?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/199503613377332498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=199503613377332498' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/199503613377332498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/199503613377332498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/06/trivia.html' title='Trivia'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6227605984701559494</id><published>2008-05-29T16:32:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:33:45.114+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Sunt o parasita</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Diriginta din clasa a noua a ramas insarcinata si a plecat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diriginta din clasa a zecea a ramas si ea insarcinata, dar n-a plecat atunci. A plecat in clasa a douaspea, pe 1 mai, cu o luna inainte de absolvire si 2 inainte de bac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In anul trei de facultate, cu mai putin de o luna inainte de examenul de licenta, am ramas fara profesor coordonator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it me? Am I doing something wrong? &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/17.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6227605984701559494?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6227605984701559494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6227605984701559494' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6227605984701559494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6227605984701559494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/05/sunt-o-parasita.html' title='Sunt o parasita'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-1114511741097195117</id><published>2008-05-27T01:02:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:33:58.996+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Oamenii din ziua de azi</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;...sunt fie rai, fie prosti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fie ambele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu, cand o sa ma fac mare, o sa le dau clasa la toti si o sa fiu inteligenta si buna.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-1114511741097195117?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/1114511741097195117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=1114511741097195117' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1114511741097195117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1114511741097195117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/05/oamenii-din-ziua-de-azi.html' title='Oamenii din ziua de azi'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4445708407986107844</id><published>2008-05-19T00:31:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:34:17.138+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Top 5'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='english'/><title type='text'>Mythbusting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Top 5 lies society makes you believe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. You are only as smart as your grades and diplomas. Romania has a fucked up educational system and it's pretty easy to be really dumb and get good grades. At the same time, it's pretty easy to be smarter than to care whether you are officially a book worm or not. I personally am looking forward to the day a smart kid with no education will be more valuable than a dumb one with a diploma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Individuality is wrong. Being different is never a good thing for those who can't think for themselves. Having an opinion is always synonymous with having an attitude. More often than not, though, if you form an opinion and you are able to defend it with solid arguments, no matter your opponent, you will eventually convince people that being different is your own right. There are so many minorities today, that I'm starting to believe that "normal" people are forced to become one too. Which is a good thing, coz for once they might be forced to fight for their own rights and form an opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Work is fun. Believe me, it's not. You might have the incredible good luck of doing what you like, but I found out that that's even worse. Say you do it for 15 years straight. How much will you enjoy doing that then? And even if you still enjoy the activity per se, you rarely find a work place with great hours, good pay, nice people, fun activities and some perks to keep you interested. Plus it's kinda frustrating to know that in school you had 3 months off and now you only get 20 days per year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Your soul mate  is out there and you are going to find them one day. That kind of romantic crap is an invention of contemporary society. Get real, you can't even tie your shoes in the dark, how in pete's sake would you find someone who you can't even decide what they're like??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. There is nothing you can do about the big problems - pollution, corruption, poverty. That's a bunch of bull. Big results are achieved by small actions. If each individual would do his own job in fixing this problem, we would be having a very different conversation right now. Just because your action doesn't completely solve the problem, that doesn't mean it's not worth doing it. More people might learn from you and little by little we can remedy the situation. Start recycling. Stop bribing. Start donating.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4445708407986107844?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4445708407986107844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4445708407986107844' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4445708407986107844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4445708407986107844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/05/mythbusting.html' title='Mythbusting'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-728068807948839250</id><published>2008-05-09T18:40:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:34:34.752+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ma trec ganduri'/><title type='text'>Vineri</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Te-am revazut intr-o vineri seara. De data asta tu erai grabita. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Si prima data cand te-am vazut, in liceu, tot o vineri era. Tin minte, pentru ca ma grabeam la ora de biologie. Pe-atunci nu prea stiam sa-mi articulez sentimentele, singurul lucru la care m-am gandit a fost "ce buna e!" Acum, cand imi amintesc de tine, te vad frumoasa; si semeata. Aveai toata lumea la picioare. Aveai curaj. Si aveai un gat ce parea atat de fin incat n-am inteles niciodata cum puteai sa porti fulare fara sa te zgarie. Si o talie micuta, de-ti impresuram mijlocul cu o singura mana. Cand vorbeai, rasuna totul in jurul tau. Vorbeai tare, nu te interesa cine te aude. Daca e ceva de care mi-a fost dor in toti acesti ani, e glasul tau soptit in timp ce fredonai o melodie. Atunci pareai fragila. Ma imbiai sa te protejez. Un barbat simte intotdeauna nevoia sa apere pe cineva. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Acum ploua. Era vineri seara si ploua, asa cum ploua de fiecare data in filme la inmormantari. Tu nu aveai umbrela, dar nu parea ca te grabesti. Nu parea ca mai poti sa te grabesti. Erai imbracata intr-un costum gri, cu parul prins in coada, la spate, iar tocurile iti pleoscaiau pe trotuar. Unde iti lasasesi tenisii din liceu? Si de cand oare aveai parul asa de lung? Eu te stiam frumoasa, nu asa, cu cearcane, cu pielea aspra, plina de griji si fara energie. Umblai cu capul in pamant ca intr-o rutina dureroasa. Oare cati copii aveai acasa? O fata si un baiat? Sotul cu cate alte femei te inselase pana acum? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Intr-un fel, mi-a parut bine sa te vad asa. Cand m-ai parasit, am ramas si eu fara energie si inasprit. Dar m-am razbunat. Pe cea care ti-a urmat, si pe urmatoarea, si pe urmatoarea. Si, de fapt, pe toate femeile de dupa tine. Pe nici una n-am iertat-o pentru ce mi-ai facut. Intr-un final, am ajuns singur. Si tu pareai acum la fel de singura ca si mine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Am alergat dupa tine. As fi vrut sa te mai aud soptind ceva. Am ajuns in spatele tau si, cu mana intinsa, ma pregateam sa te strig, sa te surprind. Dar atunci am vazut cum iti tremura corpul in timp ce incercai sa iti ineci suspinele. M-am oprit, cu mana in aer, si te-am lasat sa mergi mai departe. Nu meritai. Dintre toate femeile din viata mea, numai pe tine nu te puteam pedepsi pentru ceea ce mi-ai facut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-728068807948839250?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/728068807948839250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=728068807948839250' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/728068807948839250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/728068807948839250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/05/vineri.html' title='Vineri'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4168750363601756207</id><published>2008-04-21T13:57:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:34:51.696+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='english'/><title type='text'>The thin line between love and insanity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Love is when you're passionate about your work.&lt;br /&gt;Insanity is when you haven't had a vacation in 10 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is when you are the one that tells your best friend "Honey, your hairdresser must have been high when she gave you that haircut!"&lt;br /&gt;Insanity is when &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;were the hairdresser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is when when you steal a girl's books just so that she has to talk to you in order to get them back.&lt;br /&gt;Insanity is when you throw those books out the window into the dumpster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is when you miss someone after a break-up.&lt;br /&gt;Insanity is when you get a voodoo doll with their name on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is when you're concerned whether your kids are alright staying out late.&lt;br /&gt;Insanity is calling every hospital and the police when they are 10 minutes late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is when you mourn your spouse's death after 20-something years of marriage.&lt;br /&gt;Insanity is when you keep their place at the dining table and cook extra food for them every night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4168750363601756207?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4168750363601756207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4168750363601756207' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4168750363601756207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4168750363601756207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/04/thin-line-between-love-and-insanity.html' title='The thin line between love and insanity'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5128023887143811724</id><published>2008-04-16T22:42:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:35:10.673+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>De ce merita sa te angajezi din timpul facultatii</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca, daca nu, ca proaspat absolvent, o sa trebuiasca sa lucrezi pe un salariu de 300 E.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unui tanar fara experienta (cat de cat) relevanta, dupa ce iese de pe bancile facultatii, ii dam 300 E. Pare suficient? Pai sa facem un calcul simplu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Termini facultatea, nu mai stai la camin, parintii nu te mai intretin ("Fiule, ai 22 de ani, daca nu esti in stare sa te descurci singur in Bucuresti, atunci vino acasa, te angajez eu la firma mea de rumegus") si te trezesti cu 300 E in mana. Chiria, cu putin noroc si inghesuiala intr-o garsoniera din Rahova, ajunge la 150 E de caciula. La care se adauga intretinerea, lumina, netul, telefonul, caldura. As aproxima la inca 75 - 100 E pe luna, in functie de cat de mult esti dispus sa renunti la contactul cu lumea civilizata. Apoi vine mancarea si alte consumabile gen detergent, sapun... un know, luxul cu care esti obisnuit din camin, inca 100 E. Sa zicem ca reduci iesirile in oras la 3 pe saptamana si iti alegi numai speluncile cu preturi mici, se mai aduna vreo 50 E. Haine sa zicem ca nu-ti mai iei decat din banii pe care ii primesti de sarbatori de la rude.  Facem un total si ne da a wooping 375 E pe luna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci it's safe to say ca cu 300 E pe luna mori de foame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si nu, nu sunt pesimista atunci cand iau ca etalon 300 E pe luna. In domeniul meu, si in altele, sunt sigura, cam asta e nivelul. Sigur, daca ai noroc sa lucrezi intr-o banca or smth poti lua pana la 500 E pentru inceput. Deci practic te poti muta din garsoniera din Rahova intr-o garsoniera in Militari si poti sa iti cumperi 2 beri in loc de una atunci cand te duci in club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ei, uite, de-aia merita sa muncesti in facultate. Mai pui un ban deoparte, mai pleci intr-o vacanta si atunci cand termini facultatea o sa ai si tu un an-doi de experienta si pornesti cu un salariu de 500-600 E in loc de 300. Macar nu mai mori de foame. Mori de ciuda ca n-ai destule zile de concediu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5128023887143811724?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5128023887143811724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5128023887143811724' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5128023887143811724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5128023887143811724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/04/de-ce-merita-sa-te-angajezi-din-timpul.html' title='De ce merita sa te angajezi din timpul facultatii'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4954981967378084731</id><published>2008-04-10T14:19:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:35:30.227+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Scoliti-ne voi!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Din ciclul "sa ne gandim cum sa ii mai enervam pe tineri", mai-marii publicitatii romanesti s-au gandit sa formeze Scoala de publicitate ADC*RO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foarte frumos. Dar stai si te gandesti "De ce astia din publicitate fac concurenta facultatilor care predau asta?" Ca doar sunt atatea - vreo 3 la stat, cate or mai fi si particulare... Ei spun ca nu sunt multumiti cu nivelul la care se preda in scoli si ca ne indoctrineaza cu teorie depasita, asa ca se vad nevoiti sa-si formeze singuri oamenii. Sunt de acord, facultatile unde se preda publicitate sunt varza, mai ales alea de stat, pentru ca din cate am observat, la noi se aplica dictonul "those who can't do, teach" (in principiu pentru ca sunt salariile asa de mici, incat daca esti in stare, iti bagi picioarele si ramai in publicitate) Dar asta nu inseamna ca cea mai buna solutie e sa-mi vii mie cu faze de genul "studentii sunt prosti, daca vor sa intre in publicitate trebuie sa faca nush ce scoala, pe care tre s-o si plateasca, evident"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pai eu, care am dat la o facultate deja si sunt pe cale sa o termin, nici moarta n-as mai face cursuri acuma. O sa trebuiasca sa fac un master, true, dar asta nu se pune. Dar eu vreau sa muncesc. Sa am experienta practica. Doar n-o sa ma inrolez la nu stiu ce scoala doar pentru ca nu ma primesc astia altfel in publicitate. Ma fac inginer mai bine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus ca mi se pare complet de prost gust sa-mi spuna cineva ca eu am facut o facultate care nu-mi va folosi la nimic, nici macar in domeniul in care am studiat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Care-i solutia? E simplu. In loc sa faca o scoala separata de publicitate, sa se asocieze cu o facultate. De stat daca se poate, ca sa castige prestanta. In loc s-o considere scoala particulara, un fel de curs sau whatever its status is now, pot s-o transforme intr-un program de master. Oricum ducem lipsa de programe de master ca lumea. Astfel isi pot lua in continuare cei 500 euro pe care ii cer de la participanti, pot in continuare sa pastreze atelierele seara, si pe langa asta, pot deveni recunoscuti si de autoritatile centrale, si se prea poate, de organismele internationale. Cat de greu poate sa fie? Singura modificare pe care ar trebui sa o faca este ca in loc de 6 luni, cat dureaza acum programul, trebuie sa il lungeasca, la un an, poate 2. Dar pentru niste genii in publicitate cum sunt ei, nu cred ca ar fi o problema sa mai gaseasca ceva sa-i invete pe prostii care au iesit de pe bancile facultatii fara sa stie nimic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si asa ii scutesti si pe bietii tineri, care pe langa faptul ca sunt obligati sa faca o facultate si un master, ar mai fi obligati sa mai faca si cursurile astea particulare. Si dup-aia mai sunt obligati sa intre pe posturi de junior si sa aduca cafeaua 2 luni, pana se hotarastea careva sa se uite la el si sa-i dea ceva de facut pe bune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar ce sens are, atata timp cat avem puterea de a ne juca cu vietile celorlalti??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4954981967378084731?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4954981967378084731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4954981967378084731' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4954981967378084731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4954981967378084731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/04/scoliti-ne-voi.html' title='Scoliti-ne voi!'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5477243902899317982</id><published>2008-04-05T14:18:00.007+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:35:47.622+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Sunt aici pentru a va raspunde la intrebari</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dintr-o curiozitate aproape voyeur-easca, m-am uitat sa vad cum ma gaseste lumea pe net. Si daca eu va vad pe voi, macar sa fiu draguta si sa va lamuresc dilemele:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Olimpiadele Comunicarii&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - daca era o intrebare, raspunsul meu e "nu"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Fetele din ASE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - eu sunt la universitate, la litere, deci fetele din ase n-au cum sa fie prea cool (in lipsa mea, adica)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Predestinare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - ma indoiesc, probabil e un self-fulfilling prophecy. adica tu vrei sa crezi ca sunteti predestinati, si atunci nu observi decat micile coincidente sau potriviri care par a zice "predestinare". va sugerez sa realizati ca, daca erati predestinati, nu v-ati fi certat niciodata. Si daca inca nu v-ati certat, aveti rabdare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Cum inchid un cont BCR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - sa-ti dea Dumnezeu sanatate pentru decizia inteleapta. Te duci la ghiseu si ii spui functionarului ca vrei sa-ti lichidezi contul si sa-l inchizi. cu putin noroc, in 2 ore reusesti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Act responsible&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - no, thank you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;The present you like to get for your birthday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;- really? anything i want? aaaaw &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/108.gif" /&gt;  O casa vreau, atunci.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;If you are not in fashion you are nobody&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - well, being nobody has its own perks: u can make wrong fashion choices and the fashion police won't be busting your door down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;What do children after classes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - daca esti un parinte, raspunsul meu pentru tine e "they do drugs" &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/19.gif" /&gt; Daca esti un tanar in cautare de idei, try playing pool, or bowling, or air hockey. Or smoke a joint &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/10.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Cel mai frumos loc din lume&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - pentru mine, imi imaginez ca Hawaii&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Melodie cu eliza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - "Ely, Eliza/Rupe-te-n figuri/ Sa cada in genunchi si baietii cei mai duri/ Rupe-te-n figuri si arata-le ce stii/ 'Nu stiu sa fac prea multe,/ Stiu doar sa fac copii' " (ma tachinau colegii cu ea in generala)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Cand se suna la 112&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - cand esti pe cale sa mori. u'll know when the time is right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Hai sa facem un copil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; - hai! eu aduc plastilina si tu il modelezi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Vreau c.n.p. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;- pai nu ti-au dat unu la nastere, muica?! te-au tras pe sfoara, iti zic io!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cam asta fu. It's been fun!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5477243902899317982?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5477243902899317982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5477243902899317982' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5477243902899317982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5477243902899317982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/04/sunt-aici-pentru-va-raspunde-la.html' title='Sunt aici pentru a va raspunde la intrebari'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-729251264562088768</id><published>2008-04-03T22:05:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:36:02.137+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imobilizant'/><title type='text'>Public display of affection</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Au inceput si anul asta Olimpiadele Comunicarii (inca mai exista oameni care se inscrie la concursul asta?... &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/106.gif" /&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presupun ca nu toti cititorii mei (astia 3-4, cati sunteti) cunosc conceptul asta. Olimpiadele Comunicarii se erijeaza in cel mai important concurs pentru studentii care isi doresc o cariera in advertising, PR si comunicare in general. Se presupune ca e o rampa de lansare, pentru ca in juriu se afla multi profesionisti din domeniu care din cand se intampla sa mai recruteze cate un participant. Sunt mai multe categorii si doua etape: prima, in care se inscrie cine vrea, face o schita de campanie pe domeniul categoriei, o prezinta la juriu in 2-3 minute si juriul alege 10 echipe la fiecare categorie care trec in a doua etapa. In a doua etapa, fiecare echipa primeste cate un client separat, de obicei sponsor al concursului, iar acel client ii da echipei o campanie de facut. Echipa se scarpina in cap, bea o bere si cam la o luna dup-aia face o prezentare in PowerPoint si se prezinta in fata juriului, a competitiei, a clientului si a eventualului public. Si se decid 3 castigatori la fiecare categorie, care primesc medalii si niste bani de cheltuiala (echipa de pe locul I mi se pare ca primeste 10 milioane ROL, deci 2 milioane de caciula)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bun, si care-i problema? Problema e ca, desi conceptul e de viitor, organizarea lasa de dorit. In sensul in care mai bine ar lipsi cu desavarsire. Spun asta in cunostinta de cauza, pentru ca am participat si eu anul trecut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Experienta mea personala cu Olimpiadele Comunicarii a fost foarte frustranta. Vine deadline-ul, trebuie sa ducem prezentarea PPT pe CD la sediul organizatorilor ca sa o puna pe calculator. Bun. N-am inteles de ce nu puteam sa venim noi cu CDul acolo, sau better yet, cu tot cu laptopul nostru acolo. Mi se pare normal ca daca eu mi-am facut prezentarea pe un laptop pe care am spre exemplu anumite fonturi mai speciale, sau Office 2007, sa imi rulez prezentarea astfel incat sa fie la potential maxim. Ma rog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ne conformam, se duc sambata dimineata (wtf?! imi pui deadline sambata dimineata?!) colegii mei de echipa cu CDul frumusel, eu stau linistita acasa ca in sfarsit am scapat de munca (pe ultima suta de metri eu lucrasem cel mai mult, ca eu am facut templateul prezentarii si m-am ocupat de grafica). Primesc un telefon disperat de la unul din ei.&lt;br /&gt;"Bai, prezentarea noastra nu merge pe calculatoarele astora!" [acum intelegeti ce ziceam cu incompatibilitatile?]&lt;br /&gt;"Cum nu merge? Ce-are?"&lt;br /&gt;"Pai nu merge sunetul, nu merg animatiile..."&lt;br /&gt;"Pai toate fisierele sursa sunt acolo, pe CD. Le-ati copiat si pe alea?"&lt;br /&gt;"Da, tot nu merge"&lt;br /&gt;"Pai si ce e de facut? Ne extind astia deadlineul?"&lt;br /&gt;"Nu, da' uite, a zis Marius Balaci ca ne asteapta pana dup-amiaza pe la 2, cand trebuie sa vina echipele de la cealalta categorie"&lt;br /&gt;"Bine, si ce vrei, sa vin io acolo sa invat ITul Selenis sa foloseasca PowerPointul??"&lt;br /&gt;"Pai da, ca tu ai facut prezentarea, noi nu stim de ce nu merge, poate tu iti dai seama. Eventual pune pe un alt CD prezentarea ca sa fie de rezerva."&lt;br /&gt;"Bine, frate, hai ca vin"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ma duc la sediul Selenis (agentia de PR care organizeaza Olimiadele Comunicarii).  Ma uit un pic pe acolo, cat ma lasa ITistii lu' peste, ca parca le mancam mouse-ul, dupa care imi spun ca n-au timp sa imi dau eu seama ce nu merge si ca sa le dau prezentarea de pe celalalt CD. Minunat. Le dau rezerva, fac niste modificari pe-acolo si ce sa vezi, merge. Ma linistesc, bine ca macar s-a rezolvat, ce conteaza ca am irosit o jumatate de zi ca sa va invat eu pe voi cum sa folositi PowerPoint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajung acasa si...it hits me. Eu nu aveam varianta finala a prezentarii. Ultimele modificari le facusem pe calculatorul unuia dintre ceilalti colegi de echipa. Asta insemna ca le dadusem o varianta mai veche a campaniei. Si anume o varianta in care la slide-ul cu afisele, din 2 afise, unul era pus acolo doar ca sa dea bine in pagina, facut la misto. Si noi faceam o campanie pentru un politician. Deci situatia era destul de nefericita. Bun. Ce sa fac? Ii dau intai un mail lui Marius Balaci, cel care era interfata cu concurentii. Nu-mi raspunde. Bun. Ii dau telefon. Ii explic ca azi, cand am venit cu varianta de rezerva, le-am dat o versiune mai veche si ca de fapt am mai schimbat un slide in prezentare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pai n-aveti ce sa mai faceti, deadline-ul a trecut. Prezentarile nu mai pot fi modificate."&lt;br /&gt;"Inteleg, dar cred ca esti si tu de acord ca e o situatie speciala, prezentarea noastra de dimineata era in regula, dar am venit eu din greseala cu o versiune mai veche."&lt;br /&gt;"Da, dar daca as face asta pentru echipa voastra, s-ar crea un precedent. Nu va pot lasa sa mai modificati nimic acum."&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, nu vrem sa modificam, atunci, dar vrem sa folosim prima varianta pe care am adus-o azi de dimineata."&lt;br /&gt;"Nu se poate, nu mai avem varianta aia, am sters-o"&lt;br /&gt;"Pai si atunci de ce e vina noastra ca prezentarea noastra e prea complexa pentru sistemele voastre? Nu e vorba decat de un slide, te poti uita cand modific, poti face comparatie."&lt;br /&gt;"Da, nu stiu ce sa zic... uite, tu trimite-mi pe mail prezentarea si toate materialele si, daca am timp, o sa inlocuiesc in seara asta prezentarile"&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, perfect. Si daca nu ai timp, pot eu sa inlocuiesc slideul respectiv luni, cand facem prezentarea."&lt;br /&gt;"Nu, asta nu se poate. Nu veti avea timp, oricum."&lt;br /&gt;"Nu mi-ar lua mai mult de 30 de secunde"&lt;br /&gt;"Nu, nu, daca e, trimite-mi pe mail. Te anunt eu daca am reusit sa modific prezentarile"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evident ca nu m-a anuntat. Evident ca nu le-a schimbat.&lt;br /&gt;Adica era si culmea... doar IT-ul lor era ocupat sa se joace solitaire pe calculatoarele alea. ca altceva oricum nu cred ca era in stare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bun... si ce era de facut? Am decis sa nu ne bazam pe bunavointa lor, ca pana la urma si noi eram de vina pentru ca nu ne facuseram 500 de back-ups si, cand prezentam, in momentul in care ajungeam la slide-ul ala, sa le indreptam privirile celor din juriu catre mapele in format printat, care contineau afisul care trebuia, si sa trecem cat mai repede peste slide. Deci nu era chiar atat de grav.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am ajuns si in ziua prezentarii. La prezentare. Aveam doi oameni care trebuia sa prezinte, un tip si o tipa. Eu stateam la calculator. Prezentarea noastra era simpla - incepea cu un slide cu o animatie de count-down, ca la filmele vechi pe fundalul unei melodii de la prodigy, apoi aveam aprovimativ 10 slideuri cu un alt fundal sonor, apoi spotul radio, clipul TV, si la sfarsit inca vreo 4 slideuri cu fundal sonor. Ce credeti, a mers ceva bine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu, normal. Prodigy-ul de pe primul slide nu s-a auzit. Bun, trecem peste. Fundalul mai apoi era dat prea tare, nu se auzeau vorbitorii. Omu de la tehnic dormea in post, eram fix in fata lui si a trebuit sa fluier la el ca sa dea mai incet fundalul si sa dea mai tare microfoanele. La slide-ul cu spotul radio nu l-am mai putut atentiona ca sa dea mai tare, sa auda cineva din sala spotul. Bun, asta e, lasa, ca se vede clipul. Macar atat. Si cand sa dea prezentatorii sa explice cate ceva pe ici, pe colo, pica un microfon. Moment in care ei se apuca sa vorbeasca fara microfon, normal, facandu-i de cacat pe organizatori. Iar la final, ne-am cerut, spasiti, scuze, in numele organizatorilor, pentru problemele tehnice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci a fost absolut genial. O experienta de neuitat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar cazul echipei mele nu a fost cel mai grav anul trecut. A fost un caz de-a dreptul de cacat, la o echipa de la advertising, John O'Groat, care am observat ca s-a inscris si anul asta, cu un masochism demn de invidiat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SI anul asta Marius Balaci s-a gandit el sa ma sune si sa ma roage sa scriu cateva vorbe despre cum m-au ajutat Olimpiadele Comunicarii in cariera. Pai sa vedem. Lucram inainte de olimpiade, in timpul lor si dupa. Cand mi-am schimbat jobul si m-am angajat la o agentie de PR, mi s-a spus ca nu a contat cu absolut nimic faptul ca am fost la Olimpiadele Comunicarii. La agentia respectiva de PR nu am ajuns prin vreun membru al juriului, prin client, sau ceva de genul asta. In afara de medalia de la Olimpiade si premiul modic in bani, nu am mai primit nimic - oportunitate de job, internship sau orice altceva. Ceea ce am facut la Olimpiadele Comunicarii am folosit, intocmai ca metodologie, la unul dintre examenele de la facultate. Desi la Olimpiade am castigat locul al  doilea, la examen am luat 6. Deci foarte folositoare a fost experienta Olimpiadelor Comunicarii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar cum sunt genul de persoana care nu le poate spune "nu" celorlalti, am zis sa scriu... si sa gasesc totusi o parte pozitiva a acestei experiente. Dau cu ghilimele, ca sa vedeti ca sunt finuta:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;cite&gt;M-a ajutat sa castig incredere in mine, sa vad ca pot face research, ca pot face si strategie, ca pot gandi o campanie de la cap la coada si, pe deasupra, ca pot avea si idei creative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olimpiadele Comunicarii m-au ajutat sa-mi dau seama ca meseria asta trebuie sa o faci alaturi de prieteni, pentru ca, altfel, polemicile, orele lungi, si stresul nu vor fi nicicand fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru mine, asta a insemnat Olimpiadele Comunicarii. O iesire din rutina alaturi de prieteni – ca o vacanta."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/cite&gt;Si de ce am scris io tot amarul asta de post? Pentru ca m-am saturat sa primesc mailuri de la Balaci in care ma anunta ca pot participa si anul asta la OC, sau ca mai am nu stiu cate zile pana la deadline, sau ca pot vedea care sunt membrii juriului, sau care sunt echipele de anul asta. Stiu ca sunt trimise la o baza de date in care ma aflu si eu, dar nu ma intereseaza, sa nu ma mai agaseze cu atatea mailuri! Si pentru ca pun pariu ca o sa primesc mail si ca sa merg sa vad prezentarile finalistilor sau mai stiu eu ce. Si pentru ca ma gandesc ca poate cineva va vedea ce non-oportunitate sunt Olimpiadele Comunicarii si poate nu se mai arunca cu capul inainte. Sau macar sa stie la ce sa se astepte. Si pentru ca ma roade ideea ca m-am prostituat scriind "povestea mea de succes" si vreau sa echilibrez lucrurile in univers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-729251264562088768?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/729251264562088768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=729251264562088768' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/729251264562088768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/729251264562088768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/04/public-display-of-affection.html' title='Public display of affection'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7145280049785305265</id><published>2008-04-01T18:49:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:36:17.594+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>To serve and protect</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;O data cu summitul, sunt intampinata de puzderie de politisti pe strada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... oare sunt singura care nu numai ca nu se simte mai in siguranta stiindu-i acolo, ci chiar scrutata, amenintata si agresata de ei? Ma astept ca dintr-o clipa intr-alta unul din ei sa vina inspre mine si sa-mi perchezitioneze geanta. Sau sa ma legitimeze. Sau sa nu ma lase sa merg pe trotuarul pe care vreau eu. Ar avea voie sa faca asta? Si chiar daca nu, ce-as putea face in privinta asta?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi inchipui cum se simt in perioada asta cei care au ceva de ascuns  &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/42.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7145280049785305265?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7145280049785305265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7145280049785305265' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7145280049785305265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7145280049785305265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/04/to-save-and-protect.html' title='To serve and protect'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-1510450141225797080</id><published>2008-03-29T15:27:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:36:32.396+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Metapost</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Imi place sa-mi inchipui unele pesoane citindu-mi blogul. Unele persoane cunoscute mie. Cu care nu mai vorbesc, sau in orice caz, nu vorbesc decat la nunti, botezuri si aniversari. Oameni cu care am pierdut contactul, din motive si pretexte, care nu-mi sunt atat de mult prieteni, cat mai degraba fiinte dragi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi inchipui ca lor le place sa-mi citeasca blogul, pentru ca e singura modalitate sa mai afle despre mine, chiar daca pe blog nu scriu niciodata explicit ce mi se intampla in cotidian. Imi imaginez ca ei observa cum m-am schimbat; mie mi-e greu sa-mi dau seama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uneori scriu pentru acesti oameni. Scriu despre ei, chiar daca nu dau nume, chiar daca ei sunt doar punctul de plecare al vreunui personaj. Faptul ca nu stiu cu siguranta ca ei imi citesc blogul, ci doar presupun, imi da curaj sa scriu. Faptul ca nu vorbesc cu ei prea des ma ajuta sa nu-mi fie frica de vreun telefon de mustrare de la ei, cum ca le datorez vreun drept de autor sau de muza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probabil ei nu-si dau seama ca despre ei scriu, chiar daca imi citesc fiecare post. Poate unii vad posturi despre ei acolo unde sunt despre altii. Nu ma deranjeaza. Cu cat se recunosc mai multi cu atat mai bine; sa se bata toti pe amintirile mele cu ei. Oricum, de cele mai multe ori, fac un mozaic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt intr-un fel de complicitate cu ei, stiind ca unele posturi doar unii le vor intelege asa cum le-am intentionat eu. E modalitatea mea de a ma gandi inca la ei, nu numai la nunti, botezuri si aniversari.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-1510450141225797080?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/1510450141225797080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=1510450141225797080' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1510450141225797080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1510450141225797080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/03/metapost.html' title='Metapost'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7574723181993210221</id><published>2008-03-26T09:22:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:36:47.812+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Hai c-am vazut-o si p-asta</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A nins in Bucuresti la sfarsitul lui martie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peste cativa ani o sa le povestim nepotilor despre timpurile cand in Romania noaptea nu dura 6 luni.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Anyone for a snowball fight? &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/70.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7574723181993210221?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7574723181993210221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7574723181993210221' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7574723181993210221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7574723181993210221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/03/hai-c-am-vazut-o-si-p-asta.html' title='Hai c-am vazut-o si p-asta'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6100486289308272672</id><published>2008-03-24T18:19:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:37:02.735+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imobilizant'/><title type='text'>De ce e Bucurestiul cel mai frumos oras din lume</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca traversezi pe trecerea de pietoni si cand ajungi la jumatatea strazii trebuie sa te opresti, fiindca masinile din sensul celalalt pur si simplu nu se opresc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca treci pe langa cosuri de gunoi goale, dar in jurul lor nu vezi decat gunoaie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca in RATB sau metrou nu se asculta muzica la casti, ci la difuzorul telefonului mobil.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca se planteaza iarba si pe pun cosuri de gunoi pe strazi, dar numai cu ocazia summitului.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca nu numai ca nimeni nu ajuta o batranica pe strada cu sacosile, dar nici nu se dau la o parte din drumul ei si o fac sa-i ocoleasca ea pe ei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca anul trecut s-au cheltuit mai multi bani pe bere decat pe mancare (bine, asta e adevarat pentru toata tara, dar oricum Bucurestiul e exponentul).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca la nici un supermarket nu exista niciodata marunt ca sa ti se dea restul exact, si de fiecare data ti se da in minus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca la Carrefour paznicii vin la serviciu cu ochiul invinetit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca una dintre atractiile turistice ale orasului este sa fii furat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca nimeni nu are repere spatio-temporale - toata lumea intarzie, autobuzele nu au program, iar pe trotuar se merge haotic, in principal pentru ca se ocolesc masinile care sunt parcate sau merg pe acolo. Iar ordinea la o coada nici nu mai am pretentia sa fie respectata.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6100486289308272672?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6100486289308272672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6100486289308272672' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6100486289308272672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6100486289308272672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/03/de-ce-e-bucurestiul-cel-mai-frumos-oras.html' title='De ce e Bucurestiul cel mai frumos oras din lume'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-9126815279902626681</id><published>2008-03-17T22:28:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T11:06:42.762+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='english'/><title type='text'>Teenagers' DOs and DON'Ts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's hard being a teenager. We all know that. Just thought I'd share from my fairly recent first hand experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Make friends. You won't be able to get better friends than in high school. By college, everybody will be all grown up and serious, with their own friends from high school. Be sure you pick the people that would stick with you even if you did stupid stuff, but that stop you from doing it for your sake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DON'T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Be a bully. It's sooo out of style. All of the popular kids are nice to their subjects &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/16.gif" /&gt; And don't let yourself be bullied either. You wanna be friends with someone? Then they should be ok with who you are - don't change your clothes, your walk or your habits for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Take up an activity besides school. Dancing, singing, playing an instrument, a sport, acting, painting. Whatever. And that would have been a good activity to pick up since childhood. You don't want to end up being 50 and saying "I never tried anything. I think I would have been an excellent fashion designer though." Regrets is not the way to spend your adult life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DON'T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Become buried in your after school work. Have fun. Find time to go out with your friends after piano classes. Watch a movie, go to a birthday party. Don't become a robot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Make memories. Don't skip school events. Go to the basketball games, to summer camp, to a pep rally, to the prom. Even if you go there with your friends just to make fun of the others. Staying in your room with your friends can't be more fun than mocking the people there. Well, not unless... but you're too young for that &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/10.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DON'T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Skip school to stay home. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you shouldn't skip school at all. Just... do something else than sleeping in and chatting on the internet or watching porn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Learn. I know you think most of the stuff you learn are useless. I used to think that. But they're not. You don't need to be an Olympic, just... learn stuff. History is important. You need to know what wars were fought and by whom and why. Plus it's interesting. Geography is important too. The funnest thing you can ever do is travel. And what good does it do to travel if you don't know to point the country you're going to on the map? If you're lucky enough, take some History of Arts classes. They teach a lot of interesting stuff and you'll be able to impress others with your knowledge. Languages - the more the better. Physics - coz it's nice to know why we don't float here on Earth. Biology, chemistry - I don't know. I guess they help too &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/4.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take all the computer classes you can get, coz it's not enough to be a pro gamer. You kneed to know how to use a computer for other purposes as well. Literature. Very important. It broadens your horizon. It makes you think in more than 1,000 words. It helps you find your words in a conversation with the opposite sex. Plus you might get some inspiration from one of those lines. And maths - trust me, I hated maths. But it develops your thinking. It builds up your brain. It organizes you. Learn it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DON'T:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; As a teenager, we're expected to piss our parents off. But don't do that by flunking classes, getting into fights or jail, having abortions, doing drugs or whatever big statements you might think of. They only get pissed off at you for this because you don't seem to see that it's your life you're destroying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Build a relationship with your parents. It's the only chance you'll get. Don't shut them off. Unless they're seriously deranged they will trust you if you prove to them that you deserve their trust. Introduce them to some of your friends. Talk to your mom about love. Talk to your dad about problems you have in school, ask him for help in a subject you know he'd be able to help you. Don't be late and if you are, let them know. It's dangerous to live in a big city like Bucharest (hell, I think it's dangerous to live anywhere, but as I said, I'm sharing my first hand experience) and when you're half an hour late, your parents will imagine the worst. Like you dead in a gutter, or in a hospital, or kidnapped by pimps or overdosed in an underground club. Try to spare them the graphics and just let them know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DON'T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Think that your parents are the only ones who need to work to improve your relationship. You're a teenager. That usually means that you think nobody is giving you any respect and everyone is treating you like a child. You should be the first one to take yourself seriously. When you don't get to do something you'd like to don't use the line "But it's not fair! Everyone else is doing it! I hate you!" That's not grown up. Think of valid arguments. Act responsible. Don't make a fit like you are a 4 year old. You want to be treated like an adult? Adults are sensible. And put things in perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Act silly. You won't get another chance. Go to the park and play in the swings with your friends. Go to karaoke. Laugh your lungs out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DON'T:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Grow up to fast. Don't put on night time make-up when you go to school, or high heels for that matter. Don't get a job until at least the second year of college. Go to crappy cheap pubs instead of couture boutiques. You'll have plenty of time for that. You'll get bored of that. Trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Embrace your sexuality. Hormones are raging. Enjoy that. Make out, get the thrill of having a secret rendez-vous in the boys' bathroom. If you're gay, that's nothing to be ashamed of. Have fun with your body and your heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;DON'T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Rush into having sex. You can have sex when you're 15, or you can wait until you're 23. What matters is that it's the right timing for you. Not for the other person, not for your entourage, not for your parents and definitely not for your teachers. You should be sure it's the right step. But from experience, it's more thrilling to wonder what it's like to have sex than to wonder whether this month you'll conceive a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...But whatever you do, wear sunscreen &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/3.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-9126815279902626681?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/9126815279902626681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=9126815279902626681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/9126815279902626681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/9126815279902626681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/03/teenagers-dos-and-donts.html' title='Teenagers&apos; DOs and DON&apos;Ts'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-1017674850084936434</id><published>2008-03-16T15:00:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:37:36.407+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Top 5'/><title type='text'>Duck, duck, actress</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mi-a fost foarte greu sa gasesc 5 actrite pe care sa le las sa supravietuiasca sfarsitului lumii, cred ca din cauza ca majoritatea rolurilor complexe inca sunt facute pentru barbati. Dar am reusit &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/67.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci sa nu va mai tin in suspans, stiu ca viata voastra atarna de topurile mele:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Top 5 actrite care mai merita o viata&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Kirsten Dunst. A jucat in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, si chiar a facut un rol frumos. Desi era un rol secundar, fara ea filmul nu ar fi fost asa bun. Mi-a placut de ea si in Crazy/ Beautiful. Si in principiu... arata bine &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/4.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Julianne Moore. Dupa mine ar fi intrat in top si numai pentru rolul din The End of the Affair. Personajul ei si cel al lui Ralph Fiennes cred ca mi-au determinat, in subconstient, toate relatiile de atunci, mai ales despartirile. Dar pe langa filmul asta, a avut un rol bun si in The Hours. A jucat si in I'm Not There, ce-i drept nu a avut un rol cine stie ce, dar o apreciez prin simplul fapt ca si-a asociat numele filmului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Kate Hudson. Almost Famous a fost filmul care mi-a deschis gustul spre muzica anilor '60 - '70. Iar Penny Lane a fost un personaj care i se potrivea ca o manusa. Sau asa mi s-a parut mie. Plus ca e frumusica foc. Si o are mama pe Goldie Hawn, care aproape ca a intrat si ea in top &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/4.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Audrey Tautou. A inceput cu Amelie. Adica asa a devenit cunoscuta. Filmele ei sunt deosebite, with a twist, chiar daca au un scenariu cu potential de Hollywood (cum e, de exemplu, Hors de Prix). E singura actrita/ actor care m-a facut sa ma uit la filme frantuzesti. Nu stiu exact ce a cautat in Codul lui DaVinci, dar sper ca ii pare rau ca a jucat in el &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/19.gif" /&gt; Si are, asa, o frumusete unica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Jodie Foster. Pentru ca a fost a child prodigy. Pentru ca are roluri puternice, ca in Panic Room si, cel mai nou, in The Brave One (unde mi se pare foarte hot, desi nu se poate zice ca mai e asa de tanara). Pentru ca a scris istorie cu Tacerea Mieilor. Pentru ca e lesbiana. Si pentru ca e asa de inteligenta incat ridica serios IQul de la Hollywood. Ah, si pentru ca mi s-a spus ca seman cu ea &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/105.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-1017674850084936434?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/1017674850084936434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=1017674850084936434' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1017674850084936434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/1017674850084936434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/03/duck-duck-actress.html' title='Duck, duck, actress'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5467827657573924499</id><published>2008-03-10T22:03:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T20:12:56.508+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Top 5'/><title type='text'>Muritori de rand</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ce se intampla in ultima vreme de la Hollywood m-a cam intristat. Mai intai moare Heath Ledger, saracu', la 29 de ani si cu atatea filme ramase in el (ca sa nu mai spun ca eu inca speram sa se impace cu Michelle Williams). Acuma mai e si povestea cu Patrick Swayze, care ba mai are doar 2 minute de trait, ba de fapt nu e asa de grav.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma enerveaza teribil cum reactioneaza presa. Pana sa moara, Heath era privit ca un dusman al presei. True, nu era foarte galant cu jurnalistii, dar then again nici jurnalistii nu ii respectau prea tare intimitatea. Dupa ce a murit, pe langa faptul ca au invadat viata familiei lui, il scot drept un inger. Nu ca e rau, dar mi se pare putin ipocrit. Adica stiu, despre morti numai de bine, dar nici chiar asa...  Patrick Swayze nu cred ca mai aparuse in presa de un car de ani, iar acum e in fiecare zi prin paginile vreunui ziar. Ma irita faptul ca nu se zice nimic de bine decat dupa ce moare omul. Sau cand se pregatesc de necrolog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why I decided to take a stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Top 5 actori care ar merita sa mai traiasca inca o viata&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;5. John Cusack. Este un actor care joaca in "feel-good" movies, fara sa-si piarda din aciditate. Am vazut de curand Say Anything, ultimul lui rol de adolescent. Am ramas placut surprinsa sa il gasesc prin anii '80 imbracat cu haine care mi-ar placea sa le vad pe cineva si astazi. Toate celelalte personaje erau imbracate super crappy... dar el arata de milioane. Si era si bine facut &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/9.gif" /&gt; Apreciez ca se tine departe de scandaluri si de lumina prea puternica a reflectoarelor, alegandu-si in principal filme independente. Si sa nu uitam ca datorita lui am inceput categoria "Top 5".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Johnny Depp. Macar si numai pentru ca arata atat de bine &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/38.gif" /&gt; Dar si pentru ca este un actor...diferit, sa zicem. Asta ("diferit", adica) e de bine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Matt Damon. Omul asta are talent. Mi se pare unul dintre actorii cei mai buni din generatia lui. Si face alegeri intelepte in ceea ce priveste filmele. Nu prea am inteles ce cauta in trilogia Bourne, nu prea mi s-a parut stilul lui, dar macar a fost un succes comercial. Oricum, filme ca Good Will Hunting, Rounders si Dogma vin mai rar... poate mai are nevoie de inca o viata ca sa repete performanta. Deci sa-i mai dam una!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Matthew Perry. A avut niste probleme care l-au facut sa ajunga la dezintoxicare in trecut, niste fluctuatii majore de greutate si mie, personal, mi-a dat multe emotii. Mi se pare unul dintre cei mai haiosi actori de la Hollywood, poate pentru ca are un simt al umorului mai apropiat de al meu. In seriale este fenomenal, desi in filme nu s-a remarcat. De-aia cred ca i-ar mai trebui o viata, ca sa arate ce poate si pe marile erane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Sean Penn. Pana nu demult, filmul meu preferat a fost La Vita E Bella (ganditi-va, 10 ani nu l-a detronat nimeni). Asta pana am vazut Into the Wild, filmul care probabil va ramane de-acum incolo filmul vietii mele. Film regizat de Sean Penn, proiect de suflet al lui, pentru care a asteptat 10 ani ca sa primeasca acordul familiei. Asa am realizat ca sunt multe filme ale lui care imi plac, fie ca le-a regizat, fie ca a jucat in ele. I am Sam mi s-a parut induiosator, 21 Grams a fost cutremurator, si mi-a placut si in Friends &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/4.gif" /&gt; In plus, are o reputatie de spirit independent, iar asta va rezona mereu puternic in mintea mea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;0. Bruce Willis. Pentru ca, daca ar muri el, n-ar mai avea cine sa salveze lumea la Armageddon.&lt;br /&gt;.... ah, ce funny sunt &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/24.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Promit sa ma gandesc si la o lista de actrite... desi nu stiu daca voi fi in stare sa o completez.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5467827657573924499?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5467827657573924499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5467827657573924499' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5467827657573924499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5467827657573924499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/03/muritori-de-rand.html' title='Muritori de rand'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7161443568393012817</id><published>2008-03-06T10:15:00.011+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:38:19.288+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ma trec ganduri'/><title type='text'>Despre prieteni</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Razboiul ne transforma in fiare. Ne ofilim si cadem in noroi, asa cum cad copacii secerati de topoare. Dar trebuie sa ne ridicam. Si ridicarea, in acele momente, ne innobileaza. Bocancii prin care patrunde mocirla si hainele scorojite ne sunt dusmani blestemati, lipiti de corp, iar casca grea de fier ruginit ne e uneori singurul adapost permis in bataia pustii.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;A trecut mult timp de atunci. Poate prea mult ca sa ma mai gandesc la toate astea, dar lucrurile mi se plimba prin cap ca un film vechi si prost, fara sens. Cand m-am intors din razboi, familia mea... nu mai era. Eu purtam inca amintirea piciorului stang, lasat printr-un transeu inamic.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Doar prietenii de dinainte de acest cosmar real imi mai ramasesera. Dar nu mai era la fel. Toti se schimbasera. Poate si eu. Zilele treceau tacut – nu puteam vorbi despre vremurile dinainte, nici despre lupte, iar acum... acum nu mai era nimic de vorbit. Totul era ca si cum ne-am fi trezit dintr-un vis urat, iar realitatea era transanta si mai neagra decat noaptea.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As fi vrut sa urlu, sa-i trezesc din amorteala in care ne scufundam incet-incet. Cu fiecare zi, eram mai inrait, mai furios. Razboiul ucide totul, dar mai ales ratiunea. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intr-una din acele zile, am aflat asta pe pielea mea. Pavel, cel mai tanar dintre noi, singurul care ramasese acasa, a venit cu ideea sa petrecem o zi “ca pe vremuri”. Nu intelegeam de ce nimeni nu zicea nimic. Cum sa fie ca pe vremuri?! Nimic nu mai putea fi ca inainte! Niciodata! Iar Pavel vorbea, si tot vorbea despre ce am putea face!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Taci din gura, Pavel!”, am strigat deodata plin de furie, insa el vorbea mai departe, zambind, parca sa-mi faca in ciuda. Si a tot povestit, si parca nu se mai oprea! Am strans pumnul pe una dintre carje. Am ridicat-o in aer si, cu sunetul&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;cel mai cunoscut mie, cu sunetul urii nebunesti, l-am lovit. L-am lovit cat am putut de tare. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am ramas singur, pe marginea drumului, ghemuit si fara sa ma gandesc la nimic mult timp. Apoi, brusc, mi-am dat seama. Ce facusem?! M-am ridicat greu, cu capul in pamant si am plecat de acolo sontac-sontac. Nu m-am mai intors niciodata. Asa am ramas fara prieteni si la mila celor din jur.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7161443568393012817?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7161443568393012817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7161443568393012817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7161443568393012817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7161443568393012817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/03/despre-prieteni.html' title='Despre prieteni'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-984362181202580168</id><published>2008-02-24T17:57:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:38:45.300+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><title type='text'>Probleme urgente</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am citit undeva de curand ca 90% dintre apelurile 112 (serviciul de urgente, corespondentul romanesc si nu atat de popular in cultura urbana al 911-ului) sunt false. Saracii operatori, trebuie sa fie innebuniti de toti ciudatii care ii suna, unii cu nostalgii dupa telefoanele 89.89.989, altii cu glume de doi lei...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci din 10 apeluri, 9 ar fi false. Sa ne-o imaginam pe tanti Cerasela, operator 112 - femeie de 47 de ani, cu un copil adolescent acasa, cu un sot mai mult sau mai putin prezent in familie. In timp ce ii tricoteaza hainute pechinezului Pixy de acasa, intr-o sambata seara, sa zicem, iata ce discuta la casca:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: 112. Ce urgenta aveti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Da, buna seara, vreau si io doua pizza, una prosciuto si una taraneasca. Adresa este...&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Domnule, ati sunat la Apeluri de urgenta...&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Doamna, n-am mai mancat de doua zile. Am diabet, daca nu mananc ceva rapid mor. Aveti o urgenta mai importanta descat asta?!&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Imi pare rau, nu livram pizza. La revedere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: 112. Ce urgenta aveti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: O masina pe Calea Victoriei 113, va rog. Numele meu este Marius.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Doriti o ambulanta? Imi puteti spune ce s-a intamplat? Cine este victima?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Doamna, eu vreau un taxi. In cat timp poate ajunge?!&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Domnule, nu suntem companie de taxi, ati sunat la 112, Apeluri de Urgenta.&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: A, ma scuzati, am format gresit numarul. E intuneric, stiti, si nu vad bine tastele de la mobil.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Sunt sigura ca asta e motivul pentru care nu puteti forma un numar de telefon. Noapte buna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: 112. Ce urgenta aveti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Buna seara, numele meu este Maria, reprezint firma TeleMarketing si ma intrebam daca nu aveti 5 minute la dispozitie pentru noi ca sa auziti cea mai noua oferta de produse...&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Domana Maria, ati sunat la serviciul de urgenta. In afara de cazul in care toate produsele v-au fost furate sau au explodat, nu am nici un minut la dispozitie pentru dumneavoastra!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: 112. Ce urgenta aveti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Buna seara, am nevoie disperata de ajutor.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Spuneti, doamna, ce s-a intamplat?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Spuneti-mi si mie rapid o reteta de paste.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Poftim?!&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Sa va explic, e un tip dragut la mine pe canapea in sufragerie, si i-am spus ca am paste in frigider si am putea sa mancam impreuna. Dar eu nu stiu sa gatesc!! Ajutati-ma, va rog!&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Doamna, asta nu e o urgenta...&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Doamna, cand a fost ultima oara cand ati facut dragoste?&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Aaa... nu stiu, a trecut ceva timp... Ce legatura are asta?!&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Sunteti casatorita?&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Da...&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Ei bine, eu nu sunt, si daca nu fac niste paste in urmatoarele 10 minute, in 6 luni ma voi casatori cu mana mea!!!&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Nu stiu, doamna, nu gatesc paste. Faceti-i niste sandvisuri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: 112. Ce urgenta aveti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Alo...?&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Da, spuneti va rog.&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Cu ce esti imbracata, pisicuta?&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Aveti vreo urgenta?!?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Ma pot gandi la cateva, daca vii tu sa ma salvezi...&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Domnule, va simtiti rau?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Vrei sa fii asistenta mea sexy?&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Ati fost agresat in vreun fel?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Da, as avea nevoie de cineva cu o pereche de catuse...&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Pentru ultima oara, aveti vreo urgenta?!?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Da, vreau sa-mi dau drumu.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: 112. Ce urgenta aveti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Aaaaah, imi pare rau, nu ati raspuns cu "Ascult Radio 21", premiul de 500 de euro se reporteaza. Cum va numiti?&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Ati innebunit?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: 112. Ce urgenta aveti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Mami?&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Alexandra?!&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Mami, uite, vroiam sa te rog sa ma lasi sa mai intarzii putin in seara asta, e o petrecere in pijamale si....&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Alexandra, de cate ori ti-am spus sa nu ma mai suni la serviciu?!&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: E gratis... Ce, vrei sa te sun de pe mobilul meu pe al tau?!&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Treci acasa imediat, nu stai la nici o petrecere, pijamalele tale sunt acasa si acolo vor ramane!&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Hai ma mamaaaa... te rog....&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Am incheiat discutia. Acasa. Te sun in 20 de minute sa vad daca ai ajuns.&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Dar nici nu ajung in 20 de minte, o sa imi ia minimum 45...&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Toate prietenele tale stau la o distanta de maxim 15 minute de casa ta. La ce petrecere ziceai ca vrei sa te duci?!&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Aoleu, securisto!!&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: In 20 de minute, Alexandra. Nu glumesc!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: 112. Ce urgenta aveti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Da, buna seara, vreau si eu numarul de telefon de la informatii Romtelecom.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Domnule, nu va pot da acest numar de telefon...&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Atunci as dori numarul de telefon al lui Morescu Alexandru. Locuieste pe Str. Soarelui numarul 38...&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Domnule, nu suntem serviciul de informatii.&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Pai atunci dati-mi numarul de acolo.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: V-am spus, nu il stiu, nu vi-l pot da. Aveti vreo urgenta?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Normal ca am o urgenta, credeti ca as suna in miezul noptii un om al carui numar de telefon nu il am daca nu as avea o urgenta?!&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Domnule, aveti o urgenta care poate fi rezolvata la Serviciul de Urgente?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: A... nu.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela. Atunci la revedere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: 112. Ce urgenta aveti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Ajutati-ma, cred ca ma urmareste cineva.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Linistiti-va, nu intrati in panica. Unde va aflati?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Sunt pe strada, ma indrept spre casa.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Unde locuiti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: In Titan. Apusului 130.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Puteti descrie persoana care va urmareste?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: E un hobbit, scoate un sunet sasait... e slab si chel...va rooog, ajutati-maaaa!&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: ....?!....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: 112. Ce urgenta aveti?&lt;br /&gt;Apelant: Tocmai am inghitit un pumn de pastile, am vrut sa ma sinucid. Mi-e frica, nu vreau sa mor, va rog, puteti trimite o salvare?...&lt;br /&gt;Cerasela: Hai dom'ne mai lasa-ma-n pace... toata noaptea am avut parte numai de nebuni si cretini si acuma mai vii si dumneata... Scutiti-ma cu toate aerele voastre, eu incerc sa muncesc aici!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-984362181202580168?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/984362181202580168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=984362181202580168' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/984362181202580168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/984362181202580168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/02/probleme-urgente.html' title='Probleme urgente'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-6974656868304144352</id><published>2008-02-18T17:45:00.015+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:39:12.384+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imobilizant'/><title type='text'>BCR sucks ass</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Va amintiti cand destainuiam prostia mea si incompetenta celor de la &lt;a href="http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2007/12/exercitiu-de-pr.html"&gt;BCR&lt;/a&gt;? Ei bine, check this out. It gets better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma duc, impreuna cu mama, la banca. Scopul era ca eu sa-mi lichidez un cont, iar banii sa-i transfer la mama in cont. De acolo, mai avea mama de facut niste operatiuni, care se incheiau cu transferul mai multor bani la o alta banca (pentru ca &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;orice &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;banca e mai buna decat BCR, si nu sunt singura care crede asta)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bun, ajungem acolo, asteptam un pic la coada, pentru ca, deh, erau 5 persoane care asteptau, 5 birouri in incapere, 3 functionari la birouri si doar 2 aveau chef sa lucreze cu publicul. Ne asezam intr-un final la unul dintre cele 2 birouri care functionau, iar mama, painea lui Dumnezeu, intreaba politicos "Buna ziua, se poate?", facand semn spre scaun. Functionarul, foarte amabil: "Desigur, luati loc, dar va trebui sa mai asteptati 5 minute, ca sa termin o operatiune"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Un inceput bun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cam 20 de minute mai tarziu, functionarelul nostru se hahaia cu colegele lui prin incapere, iar eu m-am regasit intreband "De cate ori or fi trecut alea 5 minute?... &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/39.gif" /&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am incercat sa ne mutam la celalalt birou, iar mama, din nou painea lui Dumnezeu, intreaba politicos "Putem sa venim la dumneavoastra?" Functionara, care am aflat dup-aia ca se certase cu mama la ultima ei vizita pe la banca, pe o chestie pe care evident ca nu avea dreptate (functionara adica, pentru ca mama e o persoana inteligenta, si pe deasupra e si economist, deci stie despre ce vorbeste cand se duce la o banca), raspunde sec "Nu, astept pe cineva sa se intoarca de la casierie". Well, woopdy-doo for the clerks that can only wait and do nothing else in the meantime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La un moment dat am crezut ca a dat norocul peste noi, pentru ca functionarul nostru ne-a intrebat ce anume avem de facut. Noi ne-am entuziasmat, ne-am scos actele... dar functionarul ne-a oprit: "Spuneti-mi doar, ca sa stiu, ca inca nu am terminat ce aveam de facut"&lt;br /&gt;[... si te lauzi cu asta?!] Ii explicam ca eu vreau mai intai o stare financiara, apoi sa imi lichidez contul printr-un transfer in contul mamei, apoi sa-l inchid. Dupa care mama mai are niste operatiuni de facut. Mie mi s-a parut destul de clar, dar BCR clar nu imi citeste gandurile. Nu imi citeste nici macar buzele. Si mai e si surd, pe deasupra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trecand peste faptul ca functionarul se misca de parca pixul avea 5 kilograme, trecand peste faptul ca i-am explicat de 3 ori ce avem de facut, ca in final tot el sa ne zica noua "Bun, haideti sa o luam sistematic" [&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;cat de sistematic trebuie sa fie ca sa intelegi?! sa iti spun P-E  L-I-T-E-R-E ??]... ajungem in momentul in care, in sfarsit imi scoate starea financiara, si descopar ca mai aveam niste euro intr-un depozit, pe care nu ii scosesem. Bun, minunat, imi dati si mie starea, ca sa vad cati bani am? Multumesc, deci vreau sa lichidez euro la casierie, in euro, apoi facem operatiunea SISTEMATICA despre care am vorbit. Sper ca nu v-am derutat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma pune sa dau cu semnatura, minunant, apoi sa ma duc la casierie, mirobolant. La casierie era o singura coada, desi erau 3 casierii. De ce? Pentru ca BCR este in renovare si toate birourile/ materialele/ gunoiul se afla in banca, langa casierii. Bestial. Stau si la coada, imi da duduia euro si niste marunti in lei, de 5 bani [?!... dar sa nu ne enervam], ma intorc sa vad in ce stadiu este mama cu operatiunile ei, crezand ca, pentru mine, SISTEMATIZAREA s-a terminat. Well guess again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajunsa acolo, functionarul ma intreaba "Vreti sa si inchideti contul in lei dupa ce fac transferul la mama?"&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/106.gif" /&gt;nu vorbeam limba bancara atunci cand am spus asta?? hey, i've got an idea! &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/58.gif" /&gt; how about you take your head out of your ass and LISTEN TO THE CLIENT!!! &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/102.gif" /&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;"Da, vreau sa-l si inchideti"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama, intre timp, completa un ordin de plata. "Ah, am gresit ceva, dati-mi, va rog, alt ordin de plata"&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul, foarte amabil: "Aoleu... Haideti sa-l completam impreuna. Sa fim putin atenti..."&lt;br /&gt;Mama: "Ei, acuma haideti, ca nu cred ca am facut chiar asa mare paguba BCR-ului, un formular din-asta e 0.002 RON..."&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Nu e vorba despre asta, dar nu prea mai avem. De dimineata nici foi nu mai aveam"&lt;br /&gt;[and that is my problem because....]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma rog, mai trece timpul, nu se ajunge la nici un rezultat...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Franturi din discutie:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Aoleu, doamna, ce de operatiuni m-ati pus sa fac astazi. Si toate deodata"&lt;br /&gt;Mama: "Lasati, ca e bine sa va obisnuiti..." [&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;cu munca]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In tot timpul asta, eu ma tineam de maxilare, in speranta sa nu-mi scape vreo replica pe sub nas si sperand ca voi putea pleca din banca fara baston.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intr-un final, functionarul isi da seama ca nu imi poate inchide contul. "Nu stiu de ce, ca mai are 4 RON in el, dar nu pot sa-l inchid"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Pai puteti sa pastrati dumneavoastra 4 RON aia, nu conteaza, numai inchideti-l"&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Da, haideti ca incerc maine sa-l inchid, da-ti-mi un numar de telefon"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Dar la ce va trebuie? Ma sunati sa mai vin o data, sau ce?"&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Nu, dar ne trebuie un numar de telefon"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Bun, si daca primesc un telefon de la dumneavoastra la ce sa ma astept? Sa stiu..." [&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;sa nu va raspund]&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "A, nimic de rau..."&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Bun, deci ma sunati ca sa ma anuntati ca ati inchis contul, sau cum?"&lt;br /&gt;Funtionarul: "Da."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;[si raspunsul asta a fost atat de complicat incat sa-i dedicam o intreaga conversatie?!]&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "De fapt, stati putin... Ah, da! Doamna, ce inteligent sunt..." [sunt convinsa ca esti cel mai inteligent funtionar de la BCR] "...stiti de ce nu merge sa va inchid contul? Sunteti restanta la comisioane."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;[Comisioane? Si cum am ajuns sa fiu restanta la asa ceva?"]&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Da, pai aveti 8 RON de platit... si daca stiam de la inceput ca va si inchideti contul, opream bani in cont"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt; [&lt;/span&gt;yes, and if  u didn't have YOUR HEAD SO FAR UP YOUR ASS, you might have heard me in the first place!!!&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/14.gif" /&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Pai si acuma ce faceti, ma puneti sa mai stau o data la coada?"&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Da, pai mai aveti 4 lei in cont, deci 8.29 - 4 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;operatiune pe care a facut-o pe calculator!!!]... mai aveti 4.29, deci 5 RON de platit la casierie. Si o sa va rog sa scrieti aici &lt;&lt;&lt;am&gt;Am depus 5 RON pentru inchiderea contului&gt;&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;Eu, catre mama: "Mda, o sa ii dau in monede de 0.5 RON"&lt;br /&gt;Eu, catre functionar: "Pai 5 RON sau 4.3?!"&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Pai vreti sa platiti 4.3?"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: &lt;/am&gt;[&lt;am&gt;vi se pare ca meritati un mic bacsis pentru efortul depus???] "Da, 4.3 RON vreau sa platesc"&lt;br /&gt;Eu, catre mama: "In monede de 0.05 RON platesc, pe bune! Ai marunt?"&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Imi pare rau daca v-am creat vreo neplacere, dar nu este nevoie sa reactionati asa..."&lt;br /&gt;Eu: &lt;/am&gt;[&lt;am&gt;stiu, e nevoie sa reactionez mult mai rau, va fac un favor ca reactionez asa] "Da, deci doar cu buletinul trebuie sa ma duc, da?"&lt;br /&gt;Funtionarul: "Da"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stau din nou la coada, si cand ajung, in sfarsit, la casierie, ii dau buletinul si zice "Pai n-am numele dumneavoastra aici, am pe cineva cu acelasi nume de familie, dar nu pe dumneavoasta."&lt;br /&gt;Ca sa vezi, era numele surorii mele &lt;/am&gt;[&lt;am&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/66.gif" /&gt; well paint me purple and call me Barney, prostia a ajuns la un nou nivel]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Si nu pot plati? Trebuie sa ma duc in birou inca o data?"&lt;br /&gt;Casiera: "Pai nu puteti, trebuie sa va faca plata pe numele dumneavoastra"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma duc inapoi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu:"Sa stiti ca monede mai mici de 5 bani nu am. Poate reusiti sa-mi faceti plata pe numele meu."&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul:&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/7.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Ati facut plata pe numele surorii mele"&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Fooooarte tare.  &lt;/am&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/21.gif" /&gt; &lt;am&gt;Aoleu, doamna, m-ati tinut o ora aici"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/am&gt;&lt;am&gt;Eu: &lt;/am&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ah, trebuia sa va duceti in alta parte si v-am deranjat?! &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/23.gif" /&gt;] &lt;am&gt;"NOI v-am tinut pe DUMNEAVOASTRA?!"&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Da, pai daca mi-ati fi spus de la inceput toate operatiunile pe care vreti sa le faceti, nu s-ar fi ajuns aici"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: &lt;/am&gt;[&lt;am&gt;again, head. up your ass. remove it and we'll talk later] "Da, haideti sa nu deschidem discutia asta. Nu cred ca e cazul sa ne enervam. Faceti-mi plata pe numele meu va rog."&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Doar dumneavoastra sunteti nervoasa, sa stiti..."&lt;br /&gt;Eu: &lt;/am&gt;[&lt;am&gt;pentru ca doar pe partea asta a mesei exista motive de enervare, Einstein] "Cred si eu!..."&lt;br /&gt;Funtionarul: "Bun, deci va fac pentru 5 RON?"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: &lt;/am&gt;[&lt;am&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/13.gif" /&gt;] "Nu, pe 4.3 RON"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul s-a gandit sa fie proactiv, intr-un final, si sa vina cu mine la casierie, ca sa nu mai stau la coada or smth.&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Multumesc, lasati ca ma descurc."&lt;br /&gt;Functionarul: "Haideti cu mine."&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "Multumesc, cred ca pot si singura. Imi dati si mie buletinul MEU, va rog??"&lt;br /&gt;Imi da buletinul, dar vine oricum cu mine. Vorbeste cu casiera si, cand vede ca eu chiar platesc numai in monede, ii spunei casierei: "Sa opresti maruntul, ca imi iau eu maine dimineata cafea de ei"&lt;br /&gt;EU: "Multumesc, cred ca ma descurc totusi. Poate mai aveti clienti, macar de ei sa va ocupati..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total time waisted today at the bank: mai mult de o ora jumate.&lt;br /&gt;Intr-o societate normala, n-ar fi durat mai mult de 30 de minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar da, BCR citeste ganduri.&lt;/am&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-6974656868304144352?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/6974656868304144352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=6974656868304144352' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6974656868304144352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/6974656868304144352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/02/bcr-sucks-ass.html' title='BCR sucks ass'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-4611965436680675680</id><published>2008-02-14T21:35:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:39:27.084+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Merry Valentine's Day, everybody!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Astazi este ziua universala a indragostitilor. Toti indragostitii isi arata dragostea astazi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tin foarte mult la aceasta sarbatoare, este importanta pentru mine, mai ales ca sunt indragostita lulea. Astazi este cea mai frunoasa zi din an.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ca sa fiu in spiritul Valentinian, m-am intalnit cu iubitul meu perfect - blond, cu ochi albastri si cu un cal alb atasat de turul pantalonilor - si am facut schimb de cadouri dragute si dulci, ca de indragostiti. El mi-a adus un trandafir rosu si un ursulet de plus, caruia i-am pus numele Dovey (de la lovey-dovey, desigur) si cu care voi dormi in fiecare noapte de acum incolo, chiar si cand voi fi cu iubitul meu. O sa dormim toti trei in pat, ca o familie fericita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar eu i-am dat lui o felicitare cu o inimioara rosie (pe care o cumparasem dinainte de la floraria din coltul strazii), cu o poezie scrisa de mine. Adica scria de cand am cumparat "Roses are red/ Violets are blue/ Birds are singing/ And I love you!", iar eu am adaugat sub ultimul vers "Do you love me too?", si am pus si un emoticon de pe Yahoo Messenger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apoi am urcat pe calul alb impreuna si am pornit spre seara magica pe care mi-o pregatise el cu multa atentie. Mai intai ne-am oprit sa cinam, la McDonalds, unde iubitul meu nu s-a zgarcit deloc, asa cum fac restul barbatilor nesimtiti, si mi-a cumparat si o inghetata si o placinta, pentru ca nu ma puteam decide ce vreau la desert. Ne rezervase cea mai buna masa de afara, aveam priveliste chiar la strada si puteam sa vedem cine trece pe trotuar la promenada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dupa ce am mancat, am pornit spre Mall, ca sa ne casatorim. Acolo oficiau casatorii pentru o zi, iar noi oricum ne vom casatori candva, stiu eu, asa ca de ce sa nu exersam inca de pe acum, ca sa vada ce sotie buna i-as fi. Eram si logoditi de anul trecut, cand tot in Mall oficiau logodne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Din pacate nu eram imbracata in alb, pentru ca m-a luat prin surprindere, dar aveam la mine ceva albastru (sosetele), ceva vechi (geanta, care era din colectia de anul trecut) si ceva imprumutat (luasem de dimineata din greseala sutienul surorii mele pe mine). Imi lipsea ceva nou. Dar cand am ajuns in fata la Mall, iubitul meu nemaipomenit s-a dat jos de pe cal si s-a asezat intr-un genunchi cu un inel in mana. Era grozav! Avea o pietricica roz, foarte dragalasa! I-am sarit de gat si ne-am indreptat catre locul ceremoniilor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dupa jumatate de ora de emotii si stat la coada, am rostit amandoi intr-un glas tremurat cel mai fericit "da" din viata noastra. In afara de cel pe care-l vom rosti cand ne vom casatori pentru toata viata. Acum a fost doar pentru azi. Oricum, dupa ce ne-am casatorit, eu si proaspatul meu sot ne-am dus frumusel in ora de miere (daca o zi tine casatoria, proportional, luna de miere e de fapt ora de miere) la un film. Nici nu stiu ce film era... ca doar eram in ora de miere. &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/9.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apoi sotiorul meu m-a adus pe cal acasa, iar la finalul casniciei noastre (foarte trainica de altfel, nu ne-am certat deloc toata ziua), mi-a spus ca ma iubeste mult, mai mult chiar decat isi iubeste calculatorul de acasa si ca este sigur ca o sa fiu o sotie foarte buna si ascultatoare atunci cand chiar ne vom casatori.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L-am sarutat prelung si i-am promis ca la noapte o sa-l visez, asa cum de altfel fac frecvent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ceea ce va doresc si voua!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-4611965436680675680?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/4611965436680675680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=4611965436680675680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4611965436680675680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/4611965436680675680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/02/merry-valentines-day-everybody.html' title='Merry Valentine&apos;s Day, everybody!'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-8230035531468481284</id><published>2008-02-12T09:29:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:39:45.078+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Top 5'/><title type='text'>How boys can be such pussies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am descoperit un trend. Multi dintre barbati, si prin asta sper ca se remarca faptul ca nu am spus "toti", si nici macar "majoritatea", sunt niste fricosi. Evident ca nu ar recunoaste asta nici macar fata de ei insisi, dar then again, just because you deny it doesn't make it go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa ne gandim pentru un minut (si aici vorbesc cu fetele, in principal... dar se pot gandi baietii, daca tin neaparat) la toti tipii care stim ca schimba prietenele cum ne schimbam noi gentile (pentru mine, personal, asta inseamna la cateva saptamani, dar you get the point). Sa ne gandim ca, din experienta proprie sau nu, stim tipi care jongleaza mai multe fete, de zici ca si-ar putea folosi talentele sa ajunga spion. Sau tipi care sunt mai lenesi si mai fara energie... atat de lenesi incat desi au o singura iubita, nici cu aia nu se vad decat o data pe saptamana. Toti tipii astia, care ar putea parea niste macho fara suflet, sunt, de fapt, niste fricosi sensibili. Pentru ca, de fapt, le e frica sa se indragosteasca. Asa ca gasesc metode de a impiedica asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Top 5 discursuri anti-indragostire. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Cei mai periculosi sunt aia care insala. Astia sunt destul de fermecatori, ca altfel nu imi inchipui cum se pot cupla cu mai multe tipe in acelasi timp. Merg pe ideea "decat sa ma insele ea pe mine, mai bine eu pe ea". Probabil au avut candva, pe la origini, o experienta cu o tipa care i-a inselat si acum nu mai pot avea incredere in nimeni. Ei altfel sunt tipi de treaba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Urmeaza tipii care n-au niciodata chef de tine si iti dau cu flit. Te fac sa te simti over-controlling si patetica. Este frustrant, mai ales daca nu esti. Au mereu alte prioritati - prieteni, job, hobbyuri, un film pe HBO pe care l-au ratat de prea multe ori. Astia sunt genul care nu vor sa depinda de o singura persoana. Cu genul asta de oameni e mai bine sa fii "just friends", ca iti acorda mai multa atentie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Mai sunt cei care se cupleaza exclusiv cu "nut cases". Tipe cu probleme. Nu conteaza ce probleme - insecuritate, parinti cretini, isterie, stuff like that. Se implica in relatie, they fix the chick and then she leaves. Dar undeva, deep down, stiau de la inceput ca asa se va intampla, nu?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Sunt haiosi astia care se auto saboteaza. Cum sunt si cei care se cupleaza cu banii tipei. Sau care fac din casatorie o afacere. Si dup-aia, pe la 40 de ani, during the midlife crisis, they fall in love with a nut case &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/40.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Cei mai radicali, dar si cei mai inofensivi, sunt aia care se calugaresc. E mult mai usor sa iubesti pe cineva despre care stii sigur ca e absent fizic, decat pe cineva care ar putea pleca in orice moment, nu?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottom line, women are the ones that give birth &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;are not afraid to get their hearts broken by falling in love... so why aren't we ruling the world yet? &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/39.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-8230035531468481284?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/8230035531468481284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=8230035531468481284' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/8230035531468481284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/8230035531468481284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/02/how-boys-can-be-such-pussies.html' title='How boys can be such pussies'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-3243825820279211978</id><published>2008-02-04T23:44:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:40:41.247+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ma trec ganduri'/><title type='text'>Despre adoptie</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Doamnelor si domnilor,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Astazi va voi vorbi despre familie. Despre singurul lucru stabil din viata noastra. Despre cei care ne iubesc neconditionat, despre singurele persoane care ne sunt alaturi mereu. Dumneavoastra cat de mult va iubiti parintii? Ei bine, inchipuiti-va ca, intr-o zi, cineva va va iubi la fel de mult. Poate mai mult. Pentru ce pledez eu? Pentru a da cuiva o sansa de a avea pe cine sa iubeasca. Pentru adoptie, doamnelor si domnilor!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In jur de 4% dintre copiii din Romania sunt orfani, ca mai peste tot in Europa. Acestea sunt, desigur, doar datele oficiale. Vi se pare putin? Mai mult de 200.000 de suflete parasite, de fete triste, amarate si fara speranta? Inchipuiti-va ca sunteti intr-o sala cu 200.000 de copii care plang si pe care nu are cine sa ii aline. Tot putin vi se pare? Acesti copii traiesc in conditii inimaginabil de crude. Nu au casa, multi nu au sansa de a merge la scoala, sunt priviti ca niste paria, nu au simt de apartenenta la nimeni si nimic. Si la toate acestea se adauga lipsa de iubire parinteasca, lipsa unei vorbe bune. Cum ar fi daca pe dumneavoastra nu v-ar vrea nimeni?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;O societate care nu are grija de copiii ei este o societate bolnava. Sunt sigura ca si dumneavoastra, ca toata lumea, sunteti mahniti de existenta aurolacilor si a copiilor cersetori. Sunt sigura ca si dumneavoastra ati dori sa nu-i mai vedeti pe strada. Rezolvarea nu este simpla, dar cu fiecare adoptie ne indreptam catre o societate mai sanatoasa, mai fericita si mai sigura. Unul dintre cele mai placute sentimente este sa ajuti pe cineva. Pe langa acest sentiment, veti mai castiga ceva daca veti adopta, candva, un copil. Veti castiga un fiu sau o fiica. Ganditi-va cum va veti simti cand va va spune, pentru prima oara, „mama” sau „tata”. Un copil va va implini viata. Va veti simti mai realizat prin succesele lui. Si veti mai castiga ceva. Veti castiga o persoana care va poarta un adanc respect si va este recunoscatoare pentru tot ce ati facut pentru ea.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Va veti intreba, poate, de ce sa adoptati un copil in loc sa faceti unul? Nimeni nu spune ca una o exclude pe cealalta! In plus, trebuie sa stiti ca instinctul parental nu este determinat genetic, ci cultural. Este un fapt. Puteti iubi la fel de mult un copil care nu a fost conceput de dumneavoastra insiva ca pe unul care stiti ca va impartaseste ADN-ul. Trebuie doar sa vreti. Poate v-ati teme, sa nu mosteneasca obiceiurile proaste ale parintilor biologici – violenta, alcoolismul. Insa acestea nu se transmit genetic. Iar un mediu sanatos, in care copilul are parte de exemple pozitive, poate eradica, oricum, orice urma de pericol.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Veti ezita apoi, poate, crezand ca procesul de adoptie este greoi si tergiversat de birocratie. Ei bine, din contra - o adoptie poate fi mai rapida chiar decat o sarcina, datorita simplificarii recente a procedurilor. Pana la urma, important ramane faptul ca orfanii au nevoie de dumneavoastra. Dar si dumneavoastra de ei. Va veni un moment cand veti avea nevoie, mai mult decat orice altceva, de afectiune, la fel ca ei, veti avea nevoie de o casa plina de rasete si bucurie, ca si ei, veti avea nevoie de o familie, asa cum au si ei.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pana la urma, decizia de a avea un copil, fie el biologic sau adoptat, este una pur sentimentala si fundamental privata. De aceea, vreau sa va rog sa facem impreuna un exercitiu. Sa ne imaginam din nou acea sala plina cu 200.000 de chipuri triste, de copii orfani. Nu este nici unul pe care ati vrea sa-l faceti fericit?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-3243825820279211978?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/3243825820279211978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=3243825820279211978' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3243825820279211978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3243825820279211978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/02/despre-adoptie.html' title='Despre adoptie'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7880637399033139441</id><published>2008-01-25T10:24:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:41:07.683+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imobilizant'/><title type='text'>De ce nu urasc barbatii</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca femeile sunt mai proaste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta ca sa nu mi se mai spuna ca sunt feminista.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu inteleg cum cineva poate avea un nivel de prostie atat de ridicat pentru ca, in sesiune, cu un examen peste doua zile, sa stea sa se gandeasca la un amarat de proiect care trebuie dat peste o saptamana. Si cand zic un amarat de proiect inteleg un chestionar care trebuie completat de o institutie si niste amarate de concluzii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si nu inteleg de ce faptul ca sunt intr-o facultate de femei proaste constituie o greseala a mea pentru care trebuie sa platesc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mkay, ca sa ma fac mai clara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exista un numar de grupe, sa zicem 30, formate din mai multe persoane, intre 3 si 6. Fiecare grupa trebuie sa ia un numar de institutii proportional cu numarul de membri (proportia fiind 1:1) carora sa le trimita cate un chestionar de 20 de intrebari. Apoi trebuie sa analizeze chestionarele si sa scrie 2 pagini de concluzii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Profesorul spune &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;clar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; si in repetate randuri ca institutiile se aleg in ordinea numerelor echipelor, pentru a nu exista neintelegeri si negocieri intre noi care ne-ar putea determina sa pierdem timp pretios in sesiune. In plus, institutiile sunt grupate pe domenii, astfel incat fiecare grupa sa aiba un domeniu si sa ii fie mai usor sa traga niste concluzii unitare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar in netarmurita inteligenta a tagmei feminine, in momentul in care ni se pune la dispozitie lista de institutii, toata lumea incepe sa dea mailuri cu cele pe care si le doreste personal, pentru ca le suna numele bine, pentru ca au logo-ul roz fondant sau pentru ca este mai aproape de casa. Acelasi fenomen ca la reducerile de la Zara sau Mango, nebunie si prostie, cumulate de sindromul vacii nebune. Ca si cum erau la supermarket si isi luau de pe raft, pe principiul "primul venit, primul servit" (expresie folosita de una dintre cate... pardon, colege)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rezultatul? 60 de mailuri in inboxul meu in care toata lumea isi alege cate ceva sau in care se oftica pentru ca si-a ales cineva inaintea lor ce vroiau ele sa-si aleaga. 60 de mailuri prin care trebuie sa ma uit eu acuma ca sa vad ce anume a mai ramas sa-mi aleg eu. nu inteleg de ce trebuie eu sa fac asta cand am un examen care nu are nici o legatura cu retardarea unor gaini care s-a nimerit sa fie cu mine in an.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu inteleg pentru cine conteaza la ce institutie trimiti un chestionar. Ce mare lucru daca ii cunosti sau nu? E un telefon, 2 minute de conversatie, un mail si atat. Daca erau cate 10 institutii mai ziceam. Dar e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;o singura institutie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;, for fuck's sake!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu ma intereseaza cine a dat mailurile alea, nu ma intereseaza cat de mult invata si ce note au sau cat de destepte par. Nu ma intereseaza ura cui mi-o atrag cu postul asta. Puteti sa-mi faceti ritualuri voodoo (ca presupun ca va pricepeti). Newsflash: s-a inventat ceva numit eticheta civica. Nu iti bati joc de timpul altuia pentru ca tu n-ai chef sa te duci la o institutie care se ocupa de agricultura si vrei una care se ocupa de operatii pe creier (chiar daca asta e singura ta sansa de a primi un creier nou). Nu ma intereseaza ca tu economisesti  din cele 10 minute pe care le alocai acestui chestionar, daca mie imi va lua cel putin o ora sa citesc mailurile si sa vad ce mi-a mai ramas de ales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si mi se pare inimaginabil ca situatia asta sa existe, in masura in care profesorul a zis de la inceput ce sa facem ca sa o evitam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Femeile sunt proaste. Ar trebui tinute in custi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7880637399033139441?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7880637399033139441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7880637399033139441' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7880637399033139441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7880637399033139441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/01/de-ce-nu-urasc-barbatii.html' title='De ce nu urasc barbatii'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-3933933588111974462</id><published>2008-01-18T11:41:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:41:24.615+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lectii de viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='english'/><title type='text'>I'm a late bloomer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I mean... I'm not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;really&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; a late bloomer, more like an anachronist of some sort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in the fifth grade, every girl in my school had this huge crush on a guy, whereas I, the picky princess of the school (&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/29.gif" /&gt;) thought he was cocky, full of shit and basically... stupid. Fast forward a few years until the eighth grade and you find me completely impressed by this guy and actually liking him. I mean not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;liking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-liking him, but you know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My biggest crush ever. I don't usually have crushes, or at least they don't get serious. Well, this one did. And when does he find out about this huge crush? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; years later. Why would I even tell him after three years, you'd think?? After two boyfreinds and god knows how may girlfriends in between? Yeah, well, I did. And the crush redeveloped &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/105.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most wanted guy in high school, ninth grade - and what do I think of him? "He's a punk." Who did I vote for prom king in my senior year? Yeah, him. I think I even had a bit of a crush on him. But, you know... he was too high profile for me. So I acted cool &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/16.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one guy that really goes after me. Like... nice gestures, the sort that get a gal swept off her feet. You know... shows an interest. How long does it take me to decide I had fallen for him? A year and a half. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;A year after&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; he had stopped wooing me. Slight delay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this doesn't only happen with guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned how to ride a bike at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;the age of 20&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;. I got my first bike at the same age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born like &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;50 years too late&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; for my favourite music. I listen to Bob Dylan, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and Simon and Garfunkel. I don't know how I found out about them, even my parents were too old for their music when they were young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've just started watching Friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Four years after&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; it stopped airing in the States. And fourteen after it first started airing. I mean, it's no secret that I'm a TV series buff, but I had no interest in Friends whatsoever. Until recently, when I discovered another series with Matt Perry. I decided it's time I found out why Friends had lasted for 10 whole seasons (longer than any other I know... if we don't count The Young and the Restless) and why everybody was crazy about it. And I did. It's because of Chandler &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/71.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you go. I'm a late bloomer. Add that on the fun-facts-about-me list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-3933933588111974462?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/3933933588111974462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=3933933588111974462' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3933933588111974462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/3933933588111974462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-late-bloomer.html' title='I&apos;m a late bloomer'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-7804319057560048074</id><published>2008-01-09T13:00:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:42:22.333+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Ma trece un gand</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ma bate gandul sa pun pe blog diverse texte scrise de mine. Adica fictionale. Adica asa... povestioare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Problema e ca nu am o imaginatie destul de bogata ca sa fie 100% fictionale. De obicei plec de la persoane pe care le cunosc, sau de la intamplari cunoscute. Dupa care elaborez. Elaborez sentimente, pareri, uneori intregi scenarii. De-aia e fictional. La final iese 15% fundament real, restul imaginatie. Dar mi-e sa nu creada lumea ca de fapt chestiile alea chiar s-au intamplat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma rog, dilema asta se aplica la cei 4 (probabil) cititori pe care ii am... deci nu stiu de ce imi fac griji &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/52.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si mai ramane intrebarea: vreau oare sa imi expun talentul meu incoprehensibil desertaciunii internetului?  &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/39.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voi cugeta &lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/emoticons7/26.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-7804319057560048074?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/7804319057560048074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=7804319057560048074' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7804319057560048074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/7804319057560048074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/01/ma-trece-un-gand.html' title='Ma trece un gand'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1427/614355707_63004b9356_b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8417443908364362405.post-5691855669844462402</id><published>2008-01-08T11:39:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T15:42:06.294+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitchin&apos;'/><title type='text'>Imbatranesc</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pentru ca mi-am cumparat prima geanta fara sa mai constituie un factor faptul ca imi intra sau nu un caiet studentesc in ea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca citesc Reader's Digest, Elle si Ziarul Financiar, insa nu mai inteleg nimic din Cool Girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca sunt morocanoasa dimineata, cand ma trezesc. Si pentru ca, desi sunt morocanoasa dimineata, ma trezesc oricum, "pentru ca asa trebuie".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca ma duc la restaurant imi permit sa am pretentii si sa ii pun intrebari chelnerului despre cum e preparata mancarea. Si pentru ca nu ma mai fastacesc atunci cand dau telefon la un Call Center sau cand vorbesc cu cineva de la Relatii cu Publicul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca am ajuns in situatia in care sunt singura din casa care se duce la serviciu. Ceilalti sunt in vacanta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca o cert pe mama ca si cum ea ar fi copilul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca ma preocupa poluarea, traficul si preturile la imobiliare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si pentru ca aud cum oameni de varsta mea se casatoresc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8417443908364362405-5691855669844462402?l=antiblogul.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/feeds/5691855669844462402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8417443908364362405&amp;postID=5691855669844462402' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5691855669844462402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8417443908364362405/posts/default/5691855669844462402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antiblogul.blogspot.com/2008/01/imbatranesc.html' title='Imbatranesc'/><author><name>Eliza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10168439615427754515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://
