One more…

And here is another party. It can actually be quite fun.

Albanian Movie in NYC

My Friend, Linda send me the email below. Please go if you are in NYC. It is only $15.00 a ticket!

Dear Friends

I invite you to see the Albanian movie, ” MY DESTINY” on 
 

  Saturday, Dec. 1 and Dec. 8 at 7 at 7 Pm
 
  For more information check the website:
  
  www.albanian-cinema.com
 
  Thank you and I love you all. Linda

friends with the white wine

dunno what possessed us to order white wine. i guess we were all tired and wanted to wind down. but the waiter was so cute. and the wine was so cold. and i was flashing my cousins, who before accussed me of being a prude and not showing my boobs to them. the truth is, i think i look better with some clothes on, but hey, who was I to disappoint my cousins? so i flashed and they (and the homeless guy at the lamppost) were very happy.

the waiter was sexy, too, in that blue eyed irish manner with sexy thighs and a tight butt. oh, but he must have had a difficult time with four women of all ages sizes and haircolor just sizing up his buns. i think that is why men make women sexual objects, because men cannot take it themselves.

we kept the wine flowing, white cold, fresh and frozen, it was a gift from Gods. i enjoyed it mucho, and when i came home, i kept bumping into my parents who reconned into their room, scared for their life. i mean there was no pretense there. i was drunk and they knew it.

but white wine is good. never liked it until now. it can be fresh, it can be innocuous, it can come with a cute waiter full of male hormones, and it can drive you to sing along to french disco. (is there such a thing as french disco?) love me you rich white californian wine and make me dance.

The superintendent II

She heard his shuffling steps in front of her door as he let himself in and started to make some coffee. He went straight for the bathroom, dragging his tool bag behind, not even acknowledging her presence. She could hear him banging and cursing to himself, while she sipepd her hot coffee. Damn, was he breaking something? Todd would have known immediately if he was. She decided to walk over and check out what he was doing.

She first saw his rising and falling back and straight legs. Well, she thought, he is not all that bad then. he was laboring with the plunger and some other long thin metal thingie over the bathtub, and cursing to himself in that strange language of his. What was it, Armenian? Albanian, Romanian? One of those countries, anyway. That Russia was so hard to keep track of. States were falling out of it faster than fake boobs out of Agnes. She chuckled as she remembered the poor girl always trying to push up her tube top, and refix the fake boobs without anyone noticing. She never had that problem, thank God. Her boobs were not only big, they were also high and bouncy. Todd loved seeing her on top. That skunk. Her face clouded again, as she remembered him and their never-ending fights. Ah, screw him.

Anxiety

It is now the 7th day. You have left your voice mails, have sent your emails, have googled his name a thousand times, and still, there is no answer. Your emails have been soft, your voice mails have sounded playful, yet concerned, never obsessive, but still there is no answer.

You flip the phone open and closed a hundred times, but do not call. You change your hairstyle, hang out with your friends, even smile at some stupid pickup line in bars, but yet your mind refuses to move from that last time you guys were together, that precious time ridden with laughter and kisses, tenderness and caresses, impromptu conversations turned into lovemaking turned into gasping turned into conversations turned into sleepy kisses turned into morning time on a dreary bus, still reliving the past moments and trying to keep the warmth of his touch.

You can’t call. Every strong woman down the family tree forbids you to. Every hollow promise jeers when you pick up that little apparatus that causes so much trouble and joy sometimes simultaneously. You check your voicemail instead, even though you know that there are no new messages, no cassette shaped indicators flashing on and off the screen. You listen to past messages left by his voice, scratching your wound deeper and letting the blood flow. Maybe the poison of his voice will flow out with it, who knows.

If only I could speak Deutch!

Dunno what these people are singing about, but it comes accross as very powerful. The beat sounds like from Kosova as well. Power to the Fraus I say!

the superintendent I (rated SSS for scintillating superintendent story.)

oh man, the bathtub was backed up again! just when she was looking forward to the nice relaxing sleep right after her nice relaxing bath, she was faced with this dirty but aromatic water, too stubborn to go down the drain, or too weak to fight for exit with the coarse hairs she had just shaved off. come on man, give me a break, she thought and plopped the plunger over the murky drain, without bothering to put any clothes on. there was nobody to see her, and she did hate the dirty clogged drain which usually left a very nasty ring in her precious bathtub.

of course if Todd was there he’d take care of it for her immediately. he had a knack for unclogging her old drain and rheumy sink, always making her feel tingly inside whenever he reached for the plunger. that strong, wiry body became one with the handler and the grunting escaping his lips could have been a symphony to extasy. extasy symphony, the same one that was now escaping her own lips as she pushed with all her might. of course, that jerk Todd now was gone, together with his sexy grunts and his fetish for pimples. she hated him, hated him, hated him.

the plunger skipped, making her knock her elbow on the dirty bathtub and whimper like a little dog. that’s it! she thought and threw the plunger away. i gotta get the super in here. no matter that he was such a creepy middle aged man who spoke English with no care whatsoever for the ears of the other person. well, he did keep a clean building after all, even if she had spied him one day inhaling the underwear of the very buxom blond in 3C. and even if she knew that he kept a stash of porn in the basement that he played almost nonstop. but she hated a clogged drain.

Aida Bode

I was very happy to see that Aida has a blog. She is a published author with a wonderful spirit fragile and strong at the same time, as only a true Korca woman can be. Her book site is also featured on my blogroll

Please check her out and read her stuff. I like.

http://thedayisyoung.blogspot.com/

p.s. she is also responsible for the hysterical jokes several of you receive from me every day or so. Be nice and she might send you some too.

British humor…

the trip

hola! i flew in from san francisco tuesday, holding on to the armrests for dear life and trying to think happy thoughts. i do not know why, but since i have developed a fear of flying lately, i have also invented a whole little routine, which i do every time to ensure a safe flight. i cross myself three times (i have good luck with crosses even though i am not Christian) as the plane starts liftoff, and i pray for a safe passage if there is the slightest airbump. i read riveting and gripping books during the flight, and take benadryl, hopping for a quick knockoff. don’t knwo if it works, but i am still alive and writing this. (so go ahead, try it if you need too, and tell me how it went)

anyway, i just wanted to say that i did indeed leave my heart in San Francisco. I almost thought of moving there too. this city is truly beautiful, even when covered by the fog in the morning, or hit by the wind at night. there are some steep hilly street, and i saw one guy riding his motorcycle downhill in the middle of all the tourists. what a showoff!

their chinatown is great, bigger and better than the New York one, but their union square is very small. their prices are higher, but our rents are higher too. they were very polite, even if some had an attitude, (but next to my bronx ’tude they did not stand a chance). the men paid more attention, at least to me, and were more forgiving of my earthmother figure. maybe the seals on pier 39 had something to do with it. very loud and very smelly creatures, but strangely comforting with their big bodies and wise eyes.