vabbe' sto mese ho toccato il limite....
ho capito che mi becco ragno porcellino, cane vanesio e puzzola barbona che mi viene a distruggere i sacchetti dell'immondizia e tiene alla larga persino i procioni...
pensavo che il caso del colibri' che veniva a tirare craniate sul vetro della finestra (che ho dovuto dipingere per un certo periodo per salvargli la pelle) fosse stato l'apice.
Dico io, si che vivo in collina e c'ho una pineta accanto, ma non sto mica nella jungla!
lo scoiattolo che mi entra in casa e svaligica la scatola dei crackers e' stato il massimo. Dite voi... ma tu come lo sai che era uno scoiattolo? perche' sono entrata in stanza e l'ho trovato ancora la' che dormivaaaa, il porcooo XDDD!
una scena da comiche, entro in camera seguita da woofie e trovo briciole dappertutto (una scia) come se mi fosse esplosa una bomba a mano nel cartone dei crackers.... prima guardo woofie storto poi lo vedo accanirsi contro la mia copertina di Hello Kitty, lo guardo storto di nuovo e sto per fiondarlo per le scale quando noto un supernido di crackers ed un batuffolo marrone che dorme a pancia all'aria e forse russa pure... e si gratta il pancino...
woofie coraggiosamente e' corso nel mio armadio e si e' infilato nella mia borsa della classe di ceramica, continuando ad abbaiare da li' O_O (e' un prode sto cane). Lo scoiattolo si sveglia di soprassalto, manca l'uscio della portafinestra e tira una craniata allucinante contro il vetro.
Barcolla e cade. oddio si e' ammazzato, penso, lo avvolgo nella copertina e lo metto sul balcone con un po' d'acqua e il resto dei crackers (tanto li aveva quasi finiti)... intanto faccio quello che devo fare per ripulire la stanza ma ogni tanto lancio uno sguardo... dopo un po' lo vedo che si sveglia e scuote la testa della serie "madonna che craniataaaa!", poi beve, si ficca 5 crackers nelle guance e scappa via. Due samsonite c'aveva al posto delle guance.
Era stato attirato nella mia stanza dal barattolo dei vermi, visto che ai miei vermi do' sempre da mangiare noccioline coperte di zucchero... infatti ho trovato il barattolo a terra ed il coperchio ammaccato (ma che era una lontra sto scoiattolo?). Se i vermi avessero occhi li avrei trovati cosi' @_@ chissa' che trauma poverini.
La coperta di Hello Kitty e' stata disinfettata!
Sono circondata aiutatemi!
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Monday, October 03, 2005
the day jack sparrow came to my house: dreams do come true!!!
Hi Neha,
I woke up this morning nice and relaxed and my friend K-chan calls me
and says:
"I'll be there for lunch"
Good, I thought, you'll be having lentils cuz I didn't go grocery
shopping. I still felt guilty and washed my nice zibibbo grapes and
looked up a couple of recepies online then decided : would it be bad
if I were wearing pj's?
I felt guilty so I put on some nice comfy house clothes.
She told me she would stop for a couple of hours only though, you know
just to eat, say hi/bye wash the dishes and go. Well actually she was
nice enough to tell me she wanted to cook with me and then she called
at 1pm saying she was running a little late for she was stuck in traffic.
Very little I knew that day I'd be kidnapped by a pirate, for real.
When the doorbell rang, my roommate went to open the door for me and
then yelled "it's for you"
first thought was "why was he at home on a sunday?" the second thought
when I looked through the door was "Oh My God! Jack Sparrow!"
All shaky and with his perfect drunken accent he said "I heard it was
someone's birthday here not too long ago!!!" I turned purple. Me, he's
here for me... Dreams do come true! Oh, crap I ran out of peanut butter! (that's my wildest dream... always has to do with jack sparrow and peanut butter)
He came in, nevertheless, with his big boots followed by 3 of my
friends, who received no greeting from me cuz I was idiotically
staring at Jack Sparrow! I mean Jack sparrow is coming in my house,
would I even care to ask him to take his shoes off? of course not,
"everybody come in with shoes, please, my roommate waxed the floor
yesterday especially for the occasion." (so that's why he waxed!<__<)
So I just walk all around my favourite pirate, I check his tattoes,
and the beads in the hair and even the mascara under the eye... tell
you more: his jaw is even scortched! Very little I know, after I check him out real good, he opens his
treasure chest and start taking out ropes, cards, magic markers,
scissors (that he called Skisors) and stuff. This Jack Sparrow here, was quick with fingers...
after the first few magic tricks he did with a little kerchief, he
passed to riggings (ropes on dry land as he mentioned) and cards! O_O
I was aghast, he had no sleeves so where was the trick?
The dog was hypnotized thinking "this guys has more hair than I do"
and barked at him a while and Jack looked at him and said "funny looking
rat you got there!"
In the end he left a doblone an invitation to a pirate festival,
a card with his website on it www.pirate4hire.com and me, still being
all purple turned to my friend and said "if this is a dream, don't
wake me up!"
And by golly I didn't!
Now I have to start focusing on gacchan!!! maybe by next year I'll get him too.
Hi Neha,
I woke up this morning nice and relaxed and my friend K-chan calls me
and says:
"I'll be there for lunch"
Good, I thought, you'll be having lentils cuz I didn't go grocery
shopping. I still felt guilty and washed my nice zibibbo grapes and
looked up a couple of recepies online then decided : would it be bad
if I were wearing pj's?
I felt guilty so I put on some nice comfy house clothes.
She told me she would stop for a couple of hours only though, you know
just to eat, say hi/bye wash the dishes and go. Well actually she was
nice enough to tell me she wanted to cook with me and then she called
at 1pm saying she was running a little late for she was stuck in traffic.
Very little I knew that day I'd be kidnapped by a pirate, for real.
When the doorbell rang, my roommate went to open the door for me and
then yelled "it's for you"
first thought was "why was he at home on a sunday?" the second thought
when I looked through the door was "Oh My God! Jack Sparrow!"
All shaky and with his perfect drunken accent he said "I heard it was
someone's birthday here not too long ago!!!" I turned purple. Me, he's
here for me... Dreams do come true! Oh, crap I ran out of peanut butter! (that's my wildest dream... always has to do with jack sparrow and peanut butter)
He came in, nevertheless, with his big boots followed by 3 of my
friends, who received no greeting from me cuz I was idiotically
staring at Jack Sparrow! I mean Jack sparrow is coming in my house,
would I even care to ask him to take his shoes off? of course not,
"everybody come in with shoes, please, my roommate waxed the floor
yesterday especially for the occasion." (so that's why he waxed!<__<)
So I just walk all around my favourite pirate, I check his tattoes,
and the beads in the hair and even the mascara under the eye... tell
you more: his jaw is even scortched! Very little I know, after I check him out real good, he opens his
treasure chest and start taking out ropes, cards, magic markers,
scissors (that he called Skisors) and stuff. This Jack Sparrow here, was quick with fingers...
after the first few magic tricks he did with a little kerchief, he
passed to riggings (ropes on dry land as he mentioned) and cards! O_O
I was aghast, he had no sleeves so where was the trick?
The dog was hypnotized thinking "this guys has more hair than I do"
and barked at him a while and Jack looked at him and said "funny looking
rat you got there!"
In the end he left a doblone an invitation to a pirate festival,
a card with his website on it www.pirate4hire.com and me, still being
all purple turned to my friend and said "if this is a dream, don't
wake me up!"
And by golly I didn't!
Now I have to start focusing on gacchan!!! maybe by next year I'll get him too.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
My best friend's a rockstar
My best friend is a famous star, but where I come from nobody knows him.
That's because my country is as small as a spit in the ocean, it's a
town/country, one of
those isolated places that are always untouched by wars and nobody knows how to
pronounce its name.
Not even news get there, but if they do nobody understands them. We are even tax
free,
so a lot of people come and shop here, but nobody ever stays.
My best friend called me up one day and said he wanted to come on vacation to my
country.
"I'll book you and your pals a hotel room then, so you can hang out naked!"
"Don't bother, I am meeting with them later in Rome, right now it's only me
going, I'll be
staying at your place."
Although I told him that, yes he would have his own room (but it was as big as
his closet)
and his own bed (but it was a foldable easy chair), and that my mom would never
ever let
him in the kitchen to cook and that there was nothing fun to do in my Country...
he
insisted: "I'll go."
Don't get me wrong I did not mean to sound like "dude, i don't want you here". I
was dying
to meet with him and hang out because I myself was dying of boredom and my
vacations,
visiting family, consisted in meeting them for lunch and dinner and dozing off
to sleep or
watch tv the rest of the day. No internet in my Country.
So there my friend arrived, although I told him to travel light, he came with 12
suitcases. I
had to store some of them in the garage and the rest of them in the attic.
I told my buddy "just keep your everyday change in your room" and still he kept
two
suitcases. I don't know how he managed to sleep in such a crowded place, but he
did not
complaint, nor he lamented the size of the room or the bad taste my mom had for
furniture, the purple paint on the walls nor the little porcelain Hobo sitting
on the
nightstand.
Now one thing I have to say for my Country: it is gorgeous! We have the
mountains, hills,
woods, the sea, huge sand dunes, 22 miles of shore with sand and rocks (great
places for
scubadiving), maritime pine trees, canals, a couple of lakes, a Castle, Ancient
Ruins from
the Romans, the Greeks and some other folks I never remember the name of. Plus
we have
# 1 pizza in the world, # 1 mozzarella in the world, #1 pastry store in the
world, # 1
mozzarella in the world, #1 gelato in the world and the best Pasta restaurant of
the
continent!
I am not making this up, I costantly see the awards piling up on the walls of
this little
factory, restaurants and gelato stores, year after year....
When I look at all this wonders I can't quite figure out why the rest of the
world wouldn't
move and live right here, and why did I move away on the first place?
Then I remember: it's the people. This country's inhabitants are coarse, rude,
unpolite,
snoopy, gossipy, ignorant, nad overall there's too much money going around (for
we have
the biggest fruits and vegetable market in the world and everybody works there)
but too
little culture and intelligence.
So while I go around with my friend and I show him around, telling him about a
bit of
history of the place (although rather small it has so much history), that not
even the
people who live here know about... I also tell him "See I wasn't born here, but
I think this
Country's gorgeous... it would be better if it weren't populated, though!"
My friend, who doesn't like sweets, is at his fourth gelato cone, could not
resist the rose
and jasmine flavour first, then the liquorice one, then the pistacho and in the
end he
wanted rose again!
While we stroll around I am always on the lookout. There has to be someone who
knows
and like foreign stuff who will recognize him and send the whole place into a
riot: ooooh
an international staaaar!
But we are lucky enough and we go back home where my friend takes his shoes off
and
make himself at ease and my mom grabs me to the side and complaints: "your weird
chinese friend... and I found him in the kitchen last night, in the middle of
the night,
wearing only and apron making curry"
"first of all he is not chinese and second of all he was hungry... I'll tell him
about the naked
thing but if he were ugly I'd understand... he is not, just feast your eyes
woman!"
My dad came to interupt us that very moment.
"hey you know, your pal is playing piano, he is pretty good!"
We all moved to the living room where my friend was wonderfully playing my
German
piano, artisanly made in 1850 by this guy who then became crazy for carving a
paino out
of walnut root is insane!
As I was explaining to my father "of course he is good, you know! When i told
you he is a
star I meant a rockstar!"
"really?" my mother asked "he sings pretty well too"
"mamma, you know that pile of cd's in my room?"
She nodded and I fetch one, then I pointed at my friend.
"Him?" She was quite surprised "And how do you know a rockstar?"
I wondered about for a while but I could not recollect the moment we first met
nor how we
became best friends. I was killed by doubts and desperate as I was i turned to
my best
friend and asked him:
"Ne, Gacchan we are best friends, aren't we?"
He turned to me and smiled.
"Sure we are... in you dreams, Deda, in your dreams!"
And that's when I woke up.
Life is unfair!!!! T____T
My best friend is a famous star, but where I come from nobody knows him.
That's because my country is as small as a spit in the ocean, it's a
town/country, one of
those isolated places that are always untouched by wars and nobody knows how to
pronounce its name.
Not even news get there, but if they do nobody understands them. We are even tax
free,
so a lot of people come and shop here, but nobody ever stays.
My best friend called me up one day and said he wanted to come on vacation to my
country.
"I'll book you and your pals a hotel room then, so you can hang out naked!"
"Don't bother, I am meeting with them later in Rome, right now it's only me
going, I'll be
staying at your place."
Although I told him that, yes he would have his own room (but it was as big as
his closet)
and his own bed (but it was a foldable easy chair), and that my mom would never
ever let
him in the kitchen to cook and that there was nothing fun to do in my Country...
he
insisted: "I'll go."
Don't get me wrong I did not mean to sound like "dude, i don't want you here". I
was dying
to meet with him and hang out because I myself was dying of boredom and my
vacations,
visiting family, consisted in meeting them for lunch and dinner and dozing off
to sleep or
watch tv the rest of the day. No internet in my Country.
So there my friend arrived, although I told him to travel light, he came with 12
suitcases. I
had to store some of them in the garage and the rest of them in the attic.
I told my buddy "just keep your everyday change in your room" and still he kept
two
suitcases. I don't know how he managed to sleep in such a crowded place, but he
did not
complaint, nor he lamented the size of the room or the bad taste my mom had for
furniture, the purple paint on the walls nor the little porcelain Hobo sitting
on the
nightstand.
Now one thing I have to say for my Country: it is gorgeous! We have the
mountains, hills,
woods, the sea, huge sand dunes, 22 miles of shore with sand and rocks (great
places for
scubadiving), maritime pine trees, canals, a couple of lakes, a Castle, Ancient
Ruins from
the Romans, the Greeks and some other folks I never remember the name of. Plus
we have
# 1 pizza in the world, # 1 mozzarella in the world, #1 pastry store in the
world, # 1
mozzarella in the world, #1 gelato in the world and the best Pasta restaurant of
the
continent!
I am not making this up, I costantly see the awards piling up on the walls of
this little
factory, restaurants and gelato stores, year after year....
When I look at all this wonders I can't quite figure out why the rest of the
world wouldn't
move and live right here, and why did I move away on the first place?
Then I remember: it's the people. This country's inhabitants are coarse, rude,
unpolite,
snoopy, gossipy, ignorant, nad overall there's too much money going around (for
we have
the biggest fruits and vegetable market in the world and everybody works there)
but too
little culture and intelligence.
So while I go around with my friend and I show him around, telling him about a
bit of
history of the place (although rather small it has so much history), that not
even the
people who live here know about... I also tell him "See I wasn't born here, but
I think this
Country's gorgeous... it would be better if it weren't populated, though!"
My friend, who doesn't like sweets, is at his fourth gelato cone, could not
resist the rose
and jasmine flavour first, then the liquorice one, then the pistacho and in the
end he
wanted rose again!
While we stroll around I am always on the lookout. There has to be someone who
knows
and like foreign stuff who will recognize him and send the whole place into a
riot: ooooh
an international staaaar!
But we are lucky enough and we go back home where my friend takes his shoes off
and
make himself at ease and my mom grabs me to the side and complaints: "your weird
chinese friend... and I found him in the kitchen last night, in the middle of
the night,
wearing only and apron making curry"
"first of all he is not chinese and second of all he was hungry... I'll tell him
about the naked
thing but if he were ugly I'd understand... he is not, just feast your eyes
woman!"
My dad came to interupt us that very moment.
"hey you know, your pal is playing piano, he is pretty good!"
We all moved to the living room where my friend was wonderfully playing my
German
piano, artisanly made in 1850 by this guy who then became crazy for carving a
paino out
of walnut root is insane!
As I was explaining to my father "of course he is good, you know! When i told
you he is a
star I meant a rockstar!"
"really?" my mother asked "he sings pretty well too"
"mamma, you know that pile of cd's in my room?"
She nodded and I fetch one, then I pointed at my friend.
"Him?" She was quite surprised "And how do you know a rockstar?"
I wondered about for a while but I could not recollect the moment we first met
nor how we
became best friends. I was killed by doubts and desperate as I was i turned to
my best
friend and asked him:
"Ne, Gacchan we are best friends, aren't we?"
He turned to me and smiled.
"Sure we are... in you dreams, Deda, in your dreams!"
And that's when I woke up.
Life is unfair!!!! T____T
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
I have a funny story these days, well maybe two or 3...
first one is: there's a pretty spider in my room and when I sit down it comes and hides under my butt.
now a perverted spider I never saw, but I am afraid to budge on the chair cuz I dun wanna squeeze it and kill it.
SoI go shoo shoo... and sit, the next moment I stand up again he is there.
and that's my pervy spider.
the second one is: Oliver gave a bath to woofie yesterday and the dog got so pissed, ran into my room and started bitching about Oliver to me. He just looked at me and went cough cough cough... he doesn't really bark you know, saying "look at me I am a mess" when Oliver came to pick him up to brush him... and the dog started yelling at him. In the end he was yelling and jumping around, he looked like a rat/rabbit.... and as soon as Oliver put a pin to pull his hair up on his head he calmed down.
Oliver said he does that cuz he hates to look ugly and so the moment you put the pin again he feels pretty again and calms down.
I could not stop laughing. A vain dog I never saw either.
first one is: there's a pretty spider in my room and when I sit down it comes and hides under my butt.
now a perverted spider I never saw, but I am afraid to budge on the chair cuz I dun wanna squeeze it and kill it.
SoI go shoo shoo... and sit, the next moment I stand up again he is there.
and that's my pervy spider.
the second one is: Oliver gave a bath to woofie yesterday and the dog got so pissed, ran into my room and started bitching about Oliver to me. He just looked at me and went cough cough cough... he doesn't really bark you know, saying "look at me I am a mess" when Oliver came to pick him up to brush him... and the dog started yelling at him. In the end he was yelling and jumping around, he looked like a rat/rabbit.... and as soon as Oliver put a pin to pull his hair up on his head he calmed down.
Oliver said he does that cuz he hates to look ugly and so the moment you put the pin again he feels pretty again and calms down.
I could not stop laughing. A vain dog I never saw either.
Monday, May 02, 2005
La prima volta che sono andata al consolato mi e' parso di entrare nell'ufficio anagrafe del mio piccolo paesino.
4 sportelli, uno solo dei quali in funzione (beh due ma il ragazzo al secondo sportello era in internship, o qualcosa del genere e ti guardava con occhi miopi mentre gli facevi domande serie).
Stacchi il numerino e ti siedi. Fortunatamente, prevedendo che, mettendo piede al consolato avrei rimesso piedi in territorio italiano, sono andata online ed ho controllato tutto quello che mi dovevo portare.
Ovviamente non mi avevano detto che prendono solo assegni o money order o contante (sono peggio del McDonald's) e sono dovuta arrivare fino infondo a Fillmore per prelevare contante dal Atm della mia banca di fiducia.
Al mio ritorno trovo l'unica persona savia e cortese alle prese con un signore anziano, italo-americano, che come tutti gli itali-americani che in Italia non ci sono mai stati o non ci mettono piede da 60 anni, parlano solo il dialetto del loro paesello e pensano di parlare italiano.
Attimi di panico, il dialetto era chiaramente siciliano (della provincia di Agrigento per giunta) il signore allo sportello Milanese verace.
Pareva di vedere una scena tratta da Toto', Peppino e la Malafemmina.
Se il tizio allo sportello si metteva a di re se gh'e' sarebbe stata perfetta!
Presa da pieta' mi avvicino al signore anziano e gli chiedo "ma perche' non gli parla in inglese?"
Il vecchietto mi risponde "non lo capisco, ha un accento fortissimo".
seconda scena da comiche. Gli dico "guardi io il siciliano lo capisco ma non lo parlo, vuole una mano?"
Inizia un'altra scena da film con il vecchietto che mi spiega le cose in siciliano, io che le traduco in italiano allo sportello, lo sportello mi risponde ed io ritraduco in inglese al vecchiettino.
Questo va avanti per 35 minuti (una questione di eredita' e passaggi di proprieta') dopodiche' tocca a me. Dopo il servizio prestato non mi fanno nemmeno uno sconto sul rinnovo del passaporto ma, all'uscita del conscolato, ritrovo il vecchiettino che, con occhietti commossi mi porta al bar e mi offre un cappuccino.
Vedete, al mio paese scene cosi' succedono sempre, l'ufficio anagrafe si trova a dover parlare con anziani che conoscono solo il dialetto e tutte le conversazioni avvengono in dialetto... ogni tanto arriva uno forestiero ed io mi ci ritrovo nel mezzo a tradurre dal ciociaro all'italiano e viceversa.
Quel giorno, mi sono sentita tanto a casa! ^_^
Deda
4 sportelli, uno solo dei quali in funzione (beh due ma il ragazzo al secondo sportello era in internship, o qualcosa del genere e ti guardava con occhi miopi mentre gli facevi domande serie).
Stacchi il numerino e ti siedi. Fortunatamente, prevedendo che, mettendo piede al consolato avrei rimesso piedi in territorio italiano, sono andata online ed ho controllato tutto quello che mi dovevo portare.
Ovviamente non mi avevano detto che prendono solo assegni o money order o contante (sono peggio del McDonald's) e sono dovuta arrivare fino infondo a Fillmore per prelevare contante dal Atm della mia banca di fiducia.
Al mio ritorno trovo l'unica persona savia e cortese alle prese con un signore anziano, italo-americano, che come tutti gli itali-americani che in Italia non ci sono mai stati o non ci mettono piede da 60 anni, parlano solo il dialetto del loro paesello e pensano di parlare italiano.
Attimi di panico, il dialetto era chiaramente siciliano (della provincia di Agrigento per giunta) il signore allo sportello Milanese verace.
Pareva di vedere una scena tratta da Toto', Peppino e la Malafemmina.
Se il tizio allo sportello si metteva a di re se gh'e' sarebbe stata perfetta!
Presa da pieta' mi avvicino al signore anziano e gli chiedo "ma perche' non gli parla in inglese?"
Il vecchietto mi risponde "non lo capisco, ha un accento fortissimo".
seconda scena da comiche. Gli dico "guardi io il siciliano lo capisco ma non lo parlo, vuole una mano?"
Inizia un'altra scena da film con il vecchietto che mi spiega le cose in siciliano, io che le traduco in italiano allo sportello, lo sportello mi risponde ed io ritraduco in inglese al vecchiettino.
Questo va avanti per 35 minuti (una questione di eredita' e passaggi di proprieta') dopodiche' tocca a me. Dopo il servizio prestato non mi fanno nemmeno uno sconto sul rinnovo del passaporto ma, all'uscita del conscolato, ritrovo il vecchiettino che, con occhietti commossi mi porta al bar e mi offre un cappuccino.
Vedete, al mio paese scene cosi' succedono sempre, l'ufficio anagrafe si trova a dover parlare con anziani che conoscono solo il dialetto e tutte le conversazioni avvengono in dialetto... ogni tanto arriva uno forestiero ed io mi ci ritrovo nel mezzo a tradurre dal ciociaro all'italiano e viceversa.
Quel giorno, mi sono sentita tanto a casa! ^_^
Deda
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