Instant Karma List

I always felt as if there was an invisible judge behind my shoulder, writing in his thick black book everything I did and pointing with a pencil accordingly. See, I always wanted to be bad, mischievious, nasty and promiscuous but I couldn’t. I have always been lucky it is true. I have always found my bank card, despite the fact that I have no memory to speak of; I have always somehow survived, even though I spend money faster than I can get it and I have no sugar daddy; I still have my independence in a house full of parents, cousins and well-meanign friends, and I still have all my hair despite the oncoming grays sneaking in.

But that time I broke someone’s heart? whoops, lived myself with a broken heart for a lot of years. The time I lied to my cousin, I stepped on dog poop. When I ignore a phone call, I get paper cuts. Thinking about somebody with hairy legs and ugly shoes, boom goes my head on the doorframe. Beeing nasty to the busboy, my heel breaks on the way home. That is why when I learned about karma, it felt like coming home. I am plagued with instant karma. Not in another lifetime, not in three years hence, now. I am not bad, not because I do not like it, but because strange calamities befall me when I dare venture in the b.b. region. So I have a list of good deeds that I do, in order to get instant karma, and maybe use it against that time in the future when I will get drunk and paddle the busboy with his fake designer leather belt, right in front of the bitchy brazilian hostess who will tremble when her turn comes.

Miss Universe

Well here are our two proud misses competing in Miss World Competition, pictures a kind courtesy from Mr. Fadil Berisha (that is he sent them to us privately and I needed blog ratings)

. My vote is with the Kosovar one. love her folk costume.

The Albanian is pretty and sexy but why the egg blond hair with the red and black costume? If a flag could ever be considered a costume that is. Hire me people! I can design the winning costume for you.

Miss Universe: Best traditional costumes

14:59′ 23/06/2008 (GMT+7)

VietNamNet Bridge – The beauty contest officially began on June 22 with the traditional costume competition. The eighty-one competitors drew the eyes of the audience with their beauty and their unique costumes.   The top ten best traditional costumes:   Miss Albania: Matilda Mecini Miss Colombia: Taliana Vargas Miss Dominican Republic: Marianne Cruz Miss India: Simran Kaur Miss Kosovo: Zana Krasniqi Miss Mexico: Elisa Najera Miss Peru: Karol Castillo Miss South Africa: Tansey Coetzee Miss Venezuela: Dayana Mendoza Miss Vietnam: Nguyen Thuy Lam

And here they go again in the official pictures. Strangely enoough Miss Albania looks much better in these pics than the Kosovar Counterpart. Again, hire me people! http://www.missuniverse.com/index2.html

unfinished

Selfie, this is for you.

- unfinished II-

Yep, there he went again. She was tired of the endless innuendos, the obvious hints at his sexual prowress, the blow-by-blow account of his escapades, the dirty talk that had become a necessity to all their conversations, and the nonexistent boyfriend she had to invent to keep him at bay. The truth was he was a very interesting person when he forgot to be sleazy, and that she actually liked him and thought that deep down he was a good albeit lost soul. And she was 100% sure there was no chemistry between them. She was not attracted to him and he was not attracted to her. She reckoned the only reason he still insisted was force of habit and the fact that she was a woman. And that he could not drop his shields no matter how hard he tried.
She’d lost her train of thought so she draw herself back into the conversation.
-i know how a woman like you wants it. I’d make you scream so hard you’d never forget it your whole life. I’d spend hours going down on you and staying there.if you only knew…
-you got it- she heard herself say.
-What do you mean?-he said.
-let’s go to your apartment. She said. -i still have a couple of hours and I hate living you with an obssession.
-are you sure?- he said – what about your boyfriend?
-I’ll deal. She said shortly and got up without waiting for him to follow. He actually did, sure that he would. He did.
He hailed a taxi outside and gave the dirctions not to his apartment, but to a motel in the suburbs. She remembered he lived with his mother and smiled inside.
They did not speak all the way through, and she got lost giving farewell to that city she had loved so much. The taxi screeched in and screeched out of the hotel with the promise to come back in two hours. She let him pay even though before she had always insisted they either split the bills, or pay it in turns. She also let him handle the clerk at the sleazy lobby. He paid and bought a couple of beers as well. Then they took the elevator up, together with another couple who made out through-out the ride. They got out, still not touching, and went in their room. The room was actually clean and chastean with not a hint of the sleaziness of the motel facade.
(To be continued…)

a handy party trick

i’ve always wanted to be popular at parties and have men fight over the honor of talking to me. But i like to talk to women too. which makes wearing the mini-mini spandex dress and platform sandals pretty awkward sometimes. Being the best looking person at a party (not that i have ever been, but hypothetically speaking) did not get me any new friends. And I never seem to manage fashionably late entry, statuesque posing, or hair flips. they are just an unfamiliar world to me. So i picked up palm reading.

it is actually quite easy. all you do is lie with a straight face. i have perfected the trade through the years, and the thought of being a madam actually appealed to me immensely. here is madam b. reading the future in your palm and your soul in your eyes. watch it and do not be a stuck-up idiot or she will make you doubt yourself and switch careers overnight. it is actually fun to set people on a totally different path and watch them believe you. and you’d be amased that they will tell you things they never told to their best friend or partner.

see, palm reading has enough verity to sound true. if your palms are blotchy, there is a chance you are not feeling well. yellow predicts too much nicotine, or liver disease. crooked fingers, arthritis. and yet, yet, i tell you how many children you will have and whether your inlaws will like you.

i never tell you you will have a short life. or that your boyfriend is cheating on you. but if i truly do not like you, i advise you to open yourself to unusual people and possibilities, because you have closed yourself off and will be friendless for the rest of your life if you do not learn to respect those around you. without palm reading, that would probbably earn me a black eye. with palmreading, i get you to be my friend, and smile at me tomorrow, even if i am the wrong shape, style or gender.

besides, i like hands, most have good character. being shy, it helps me create contact and maintain it, and know you as much as i need to, without you actually realizing it. but do not fear because i am not evil and i will never abuse what i learn. just behave, and i will too.

people are strange though. some refuse to give me their hand, some get nervous if their friends listen in, some cannot do with only one reading but coem back every three minutes. some profess to not believe, only to be completely hooked the moment i mention that they have a secret they are carrying from their past, and is acting as an obstacle now. then they eat my words with a spoon so to speak.

but nobody has confesed murder yet.

the picture below is also taken by the evertalented belle, and the amazing elegant hands are those of selfie. she did have a very interesting hand to read

finished

here is to the end of the drama

a sangria toast,

a beautiful breeze and

blisfully ignorant companions

for there is no fight left in me

and no resistance in you.

peace at last,

ultimate peace without victory bells

just empty echos that perform our lives

and loose verses no more to be spoken.

unfinished

-please – he had said – come out at least for an hour. it is your last day.

she had calculated that if she slept on the plane, she would still have time to finish up her luggage and have a coffee with the man. therefore, here she was, nursing a hot something and kicking herself for being an obliging soul. he was once again rambling.

-so, i told her to go to hell and take her stupid gift with her.

- I thought you liked her.

-well she knew how to use her mouth, but she was really weird, you know.

she did not know but she smiled to humor him. she could never keep his dramas straight. he had so many, and they all ended up in tears.

- I just can’t understand why I can’t find anybody like you. -he said

here they go again. she had made him promise they would not speak about that, she had told him they did not fit together, she had told him they were simply friends and there was nothing else. and still he persisted.

-please- she said. – i am sure you will find somebody great for you

Because of a picture

sometimes pictures are worth a thousand words and convey a million meanings, especially when taken by my friend belle. in the particular picture i saw this morning, the picture conveyed only one thing, woe to the person crossing me at full moon. i like to think i am normally a docile, and well behaved woman (can’t call myself young lady anymore as of last saturday), but when i look at this picture and my poor table companion trying to stand up to my scorching stare, i do not know what to think anymore. granted, the owner of the restaurant was this brazilian b… who did not accommodate me and put me in a very uncomfortable seat, but i should have been gracious and relented. was i gracious? was i forgiving? was i an angel?

nope.

Just messing with you

Somebody was searching “post martum, female body” today and they got my blog. I guess they were trying to search “post mortem” but my brain really read it as “post martum” or “post marriage” (In Albanian)

So post mortem or post martum female body?

Sexy Bronx

I was stumbling in the streets of Bronx at 7.30AM last Friday when I snapped this pic. The lady was about 4ft tall, size 14, and had on the highest red spike heels I had ever seen. I thought that if she’d been at least 5.5 or taller she would have made the world bow to her with all that determination.

Oh why can’t  I be more like that, why?