a.k.a. creative people :)
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Mr. Killa
He's French.
He's a designer.
He doesn't really like furry animals.
Correction, he does.
The furry part.
If you see this man, please skin him for me, would you.
Actual info:
Quentin Verone showed this model as part of his new collection. The saying I'd rather wear fur refers to the popular PETA slogan I'd rather go naked, that proclaims wearing fur = murder.
Monogamie
I know I might sound very ‘Sex and the City’ tonight, but those days I got to think about exclusivity. How comes we all get used to the idea that monogamy simply doesn’t exist? We are constantly flooded with the concept that you cannot expect it all form one person. That it is absolutely adequate to uncover the pleasures of life with different people, sometimes one after the other, sometimes simultaneously with several. Women are told to forget feelings as soon as their highschool crush turns into a crash, get over him (and all men) and get to the better part of life- love lobotomy – no feelings, just fun. Are girls nowadays made believe that romantic men are an urban myth, that sex can be casual and that having more than 30 people in your secret count is simply normal, if not encouraged? What happens if, by a strike of faith, a miracle happens and you come to the point where you receive it all from one? Can you digest it, or does it make you feel (besides everything else) predominantly noxious?
I got out with two friends the other day and despite all my attempts to hide it (why?) they ripped the confession from me.
Hello, my name is Deni and I’m a monogamist.
They both laughed and said that if I put an end to my hunting days, hell will freeze over. Chilly! They meditated upon the idea of being with one and discarded it as unacceptable. As if I was proclaiming using stationary telephones or going to church every Sunday or even worse – wearing purple shiny leggings and listening to Azis! But despite their ‘ I’m so not into monogamy’ speeches, I realized one of them is only capable of talking about her last fuck buddy and the other one stays online in all social communication devises, waiting to be detected by someone. Or so is my suspicion. So why did they felt the urge to convince me I’m a dinosaur if I believe in a uni-person relationship? I looked back and realized I felt that same need a while ago. Seeing one person was so not for me, I needed someone to talk to, someone to make me laugh, someone who listens to the same music, someone to fuck and someone to cuddle. At best, 2 people were sufficient to fulfill those functions.
I’m not converted already; still I am doing my best to unlock my mind for the possibility of a long-term monogamous relationship with someone besides my own self.
Damn, even putting it I writing makes the party girl inside of me as scared as Cinderella, who by mistake ended up in a Hickox movie! Although I feel like I have a jar full of ants and I’m about to stick my honey covered finger in it, I try to keep my cool and open up, if only for him to see that I mean well. However the transformation is painful. It was the first time when I turned into a non-believer, what made me think it would be much different this time around? It is like being a chocoholic and waking up with diabetes one morning. You know what you gotta do for your body to be well, but your soul is in constant struggle with your mind on the issue of brownies and mousses. Or on the issue of spending almost every evening together.
I have serious doubts if I should go and post this one. But it’s been a while and putting things in writing usually makes the fog lift and I see things almost clearly. If only I didn’t need glasses…
I got out with two friends the other day and despite all my attempts to hide it (why?) they ripped the confession from me.
Hello, my name is Deni and I’m a monogamist.
They both laughed and said that if I put an end to my hunting days, hell will freeze over. Chilly! They meditated upon the idea of being with one and discarded it as unacceptable. As if I was proclaiming using stationary telephones or going to church every Sunday or even worse – wearing purple shiny leggings and listening to Azis! But despite their ‘ I’m so not into monogamy’ speeches, I realized one of them is only capable of talking about her last fuck buddy and the other one stays online in all social communication devises, waiting to be detected by someone. Or so is my suspicion. So why did they felt the urge to convince me I’m a dinosaur if I believe in a uni-person relationship? I looked back and realized I felt that same need a while ago. Seeing one person was so not for me, I needed someone to talk to, someone to make me laugh, someone who listens to the same music, someone to fuck and someone to cuddle. At best, 2 people were sufficient to fulfill those functions.
I’m not converted already; still I am doing my best to unlock my mind for the possibility of a long-term monogamous relationship with someone besides my own self.
Damn, even putting it I writing makes the party girl inside of me as scared as Cinderella, who by mistake ended up in a Hickox movie! Although I feel like I have a jar full of ants and I’m about to stick my honey covered finger in it, I try to keep my cool and open up, if only for him to see that I mean well. However the transformation is painful. It was the first time when I turned into a non-believer, what made me think it would be much different this time around? It is like being a chocoholic and waking up with diabetes one morning. You know what you gotta do for your body to be well, but your soul is in constant struggle with your mind on the issue of brownies and mousses. Or on the issue of spending almost every evening together.I have serious doubts if I should go and post this one. But it’s been a while and putting things in writing usually makes the fog lift and I see things almost clearly. If only I didn’t need glasses…
Test test test !
A goldie oldie from the times, when creativity in advertising was just a textbook term in Bulgaria.
Priceless
I have no idea who came up with the brilliant concept of taking pix of people while they use Chat Roulette, but just look at how surprised a man can get :) (and also why you should always talk to webcam having strangers only)
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Gym class (heroes?)
I hated it as a kid. Big mistake! (I am used to blaming my mum for not putting my ass on a treadmill from the moment she discovered my huge appetite for...everything!)
I was the worst when it came to running, jumping, throwing heavy balls, throwing any balls, for that matter and I was just a mockery masterpiece of how not to use the gym equipment. However, as growing older made me grow bigger (on both axes!), I realized the need to decrease my appetite and width. The first one proved to be indestructible, however, my stubborn mind was set on doing workouts to try cope with the shapes of my body.
I have to tell you now, if you are not really good at remembering and you are giving up easily, going to group fitness is just not for you.
At my first day I was having Steps for Beginners. Beginners my ass! I felt like the dumbest non-blond on the planet. It seemed as if one of my feet was made out of marshmallows and the other one was cut out of wood! They both moved independently from what my mind wanted and I believe independently from any logical pattern known to humans. The whole process was further complicated by the existence of the step, which proved to be a torture weapon, or so my bum thought at the end. All joints in my body were challenged to twist my unobeying limbs at angles, known only to the enlightened in the sacrament of the routine. And they had to do so in a timely manner under the count of our lovely (blond!) teacher. Thanks to that I can now count to 8, say left/right and down in Dutch. I honestly hope one day I get to shout ‘Laag!!!!!!!!!!!!’ to someone with the same passion that chica put into the word.
Still, not able to control my feet and fighting their resistance, I did my best to remember the order of the workout routine. I have to admit, I considered quitting visiting (and using) the famous Amsterdam coffee shops then and there. A tablespoon must have had more remembrance span than me at that point. Just as I learned a new move, the previous one slipped out of my mind, as if there was not enough space in there for both of them. My arms were almost as inconsistent in their movement as my feet, but I believe they were at least thankful there was no step for them to work on. Otherwise I bet my body would have hated me for quite some time. At a certain point, I was so focused on doing the moves that I forgot to breathe. In case you don’t know it, it is not a good thing to forget that particular function of your lungs. It hurts. And then you get to be the same color as a jar of cheap marinara sauce.
However, as the torture hour finished, as a pure surprise to me, I felt happy. So happy, that I was looking forward to the next time I get to fight with my cardio-vascular, muscle and nervous systems. Now I can safely say I am better. I learned most of the steps, combinations and elaborations, therefore I am not an absolute failure. But just yesterday I saw a girl struggling with her first class. I thought she’ll feel the same way I did after the class is done and be running back for more the next time. She left after the first 20mins.
Being stubborn is not for everybody. The same applies for steps.
I was the worst when it came to running, jumping, throwing heavy balls, throwing any balls, for that matter and I was just a mockery masterpiece of how not to use the gym equipment. However, as growing older made me grow bigger (on both axes!), I realized the need to decrease my appetite and width. The first one proved to be indestructible, however, my stubborn mind was set on doing workouts to try cope with the shapes of my body.
I have to tell you now, if you are not really good at remembering and you are giving up easily, going to group fitness is just not for you.At my first day I was having Steps for Beginners. Beginners my ass! I felt like the dumbest non-blond on the planet. It seemed as if one of my feet was made out of marshmallows and the other one was cut out of wood! They both moved independently from what my mind wanted and I believe independently from any logical pattern known to humans. The whole process was further complicated by the existence of the step, which proved to be a torture weapon, or so my bum thought at the end. All joints in my body were challenged to twist my unobeying limbs at angles, known only to the enlightened in the sacrament of the routine. And they had to do so in a timely manner under the count of our lovely (blond!) teacher. Thanks to that I can now count to 8, say left/right and down in Dutch. I honestly hope one day I get to shout ‘Laag!!!!!!!!!!!!’ to someone with the same passion that chica put into the word.
Still, not able to control my feet and fighting their resistance, I did my best to remember the order of the workout routine. I have to admit, I considered quitting visiting (and using) the famous Amsterdam coffee shops then and there. A tablespoon must have had more remembrance span than me at that point. Just as I learned a new move, the previous one slipped out of my mind, as if there was not enough space in there for both of them. My arms were almost as inconsistent in their movement as my feet, but I believe they were at least thankful there was no step for them to work on. Otherwise I bet my body would have hated me for quite some time. At a certain point, I was so focused on doing the moves that I forgot to breathe. In case you don’t know it, it is not a good thing to forget that particular function of your lungs. It hurts. And then you get to be the same color as a jar of cheap marinara sauce.
However, as the torture hour finished, as a pure surprise to me, I felt happy. So happy, that I was looking forward to the next time I get to fight with my cardio-vascular, muscle and nervous systems. Now I can safely say I am better. I learned most of the steps, combinations and elaborations, therefore I am not an absolute failure. But just yesterday I saw a girl struggling with her first class. I thought she’ll feel the same way I did after the class is done and be running back for more the next time. She left after the first 20mins.
Being stubborn is not for everybody. The same applies for steps.
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