You sit there, with your cutlery in hands. You stare at your plate on which a beautiful sight has been placed. You close your eyes and take in the godly smells, wafting up your nose and into your brain. Your eyes open again to behold the well cooked outer layer, seasoned with a simple mixture of salt and pepper, shining with the butter and decorated with scars of the flaming grill.
You stick your fork tenderly in the meat and cut it open with the sharp steak knife. Blood flows out of the cut, surrounding the steak with a puddle of it's own delicious juices. Medium rare you ordered, medium rare you got. You can't hold back any longer, that steak is yours. Stab it, cut it, stab it, cut it, repeating actions that you perform as if in trance. When you get to the last piece on your plate, once harbouring a delicious piece of meat, you suddenly realise that the constant orgasm in your mouth with the tingling sensation of the meat gliding over your tongue will be over soon. You stop to admire this last piece, think about how you will savour this moment, this last piece of meat heaven.
And there it goes, hidden from sight behind your wet lips, followed by the quiet, yet final swallow. You lick your lips, trying to get the last bit of that taste, when you realise your plate still carries a parting gift for you: the fries and the red juices of blood, mixed with the seasoning.
Even though the fries are unworthy of this holy mixture, you still dip them in. If you were at home you could drink it and lick the plate clean, but out in public you must restrain yourself. So you take some fries and drown them in the juices, trying to get every last drop in your body, not letting any go to waste. Damn fries, they don't do as well a job as your tongue! You feel every fiber of your body trembling under the stress of behaving yourself, but you hold on. By the time you finish your meal, the plate is cleaned up thoroughly, as if it had just been licked clean or been through a dishwasher. You are satisfied. The vegetables are untouched.
Thursday, 19 May 2016
Friday, 29 January 2010
Heroes in our brains
In public situations in which I am bored, I tend to let my fantasy run wild. I think about stuff that I am doing at that moment, fantasize about the people around me and their lives, or about what I'll be eating tonight. The person next to you could be famous in a few years, what did that grampy do in his life, should I cook or just get some fast food? Questions that fly through my mind with a dazzling speed.
Now, sometimes my fantasy gets a bit too wild and I just need an ego boost. In this case, I'll start making up hypothetical situations. You know what I mean, I'm sure of it. In fact, I'm pretty sure that you have had these fantasies yourself. The ones where you imagine the person next to you to be a strong and evil mastermind, trying to rob the bank in which you are waiting. Or in the case that you're in a doctor's office, the person you choose as the bad guy in your fantasy is a drug addict and will try to threaten the nurses to give them some. It doesn't really matter where you are, but you'll start developing fantasies in which somebody will be the bad guy, and people need saving.
There are several possibilities to the role you give yourself:
1. You are the hero that saves everybody;
2. You get saved by a handsome hero (or heroine... Though I doubt guys would really fantasize about them needing to get saved).
If you imagine yourself as the hero of the day, you start to think about how you'd react if the bad guy would try to pull out a gun or knife or do whatever bad guys do in their situations. You start plotting out how you'd grab the plant and throw it at them, or how you'd stick out your leg to trip them and foil their evil plans. Maybe you even think of something more elaborate, in which you end up fighting the said bad guy, need help from another person, or perhaps even crafting a crafty construction with the sole purpose of taking the bad guy down. Whatever the case, you are the hero in your fantasies.
In the case that you perhaps see a handsome guy around, you might start to imagine how he would save you, the damsel in distress. How he'd knock out the bad guy and take you in his strong, muscular, toned, manly arms... Or perhaps the handsome guy already IS your boyfriend, who in your fantasy would throw himself in front of you to take a bullet for you. Nothing like being saved by a handsome guy, with whom you build up a future.
"So what if I combine those two fantasies... If that guy over there would pull out a gun, I'll call the police, then throw my shoe at him. He's be distracted and confused and then I can tackle him. But what if he just shoots at me? I'll just dive behind the desk there first, then throw my shoe. Then I'd run over and kick him! But what if he catches my leg and overpowers me! Maybe that cute guard will try and save me. "Let her go, take me instead. I'm more of use to you than her." But then I'd have screwed it up by throwing the shoe at him already, damn it. No, the guard would then save me no matter what! Yeah..."
Sadly, or perhaps it's for the best, these fantasies will never come true. You're just going to have to wait another 15 boring minutes until it's your turn. The bad guy is actually just a normal non-evil person with no plots to take over the world. Or is he...?
Guess I'll just pop a pizza in the oven.
Now, sometimes my fantasy gets a bit too wild and I just need an ego boost. In this case, I'll start making up hypothetical situations. You know what I mean, I'm sure of it. In fact, I'm pretty sure that you have had these fantasies yourself. The ones where you imagine the person next to you to be a strong and evil mastermind, trying to rob the bank in which you are waiting. Or in the case that you're in a doctor's office, the person you choose as the bad guy in your fantasy is a drug addict and will try to threaten the nurses to give them some. It doesn't really matter where you are, but you'll start developing fantasies in which somebody will be the bad guy, and people need saving.
There are several possibilities to the role you give yourself:
1. You are the hero that saves everybody;
2. You get saved by a handsome hero (or heroine... Though I doubt guys would really fantasize about them needing to get saved).
If you imagine yourself as the hero of the day, you start to think about how you'd react if the bad guy would try to pull out a gun or knife or do whatever bad guys do in their situations. You start plotting out how you'd grab the plant and throw it at them, or how you'd stick out your leg to trip them and foil their evil plans. Maybe you even think of something more elaborate, in which you end up fighting the said bad guy, need help from another person, or perhaps even crafting a crafty construction with the sole purpose of taking the bad guy down. Whatever the case, you are the hero in your fantasies.
In the case that you perhaps see a handsome guy around, you might start to imagine how he would save you, the damsel in distress. How he'd knock out the bad guy and take you in his strong, muscular, toned, manly arms... Or perhaps the handsome guy already IS your boyfriend, who in your fantasy would throw himself in front of you to take a bullet for you. Nothing like being saved by a handsome guy, with whom you build up a future.
"So what if I combine those two fantasies... If that guy over there would pull out a gun, I'll call the police, then throw my shoe at him. He's be distracted and confused and then I can tackle him. But what if he just shoots at me? I'll just dive behind the desk there first, then throw my shoe. Then I'd run over and kick him! But what if he catches my leg and overpowers me! Maybe that cute guard will try and save me. "Let her go, take me instead. I'm more of use to you than her." But then I'd have screwed it up by throwing the shoe at him already, damn it. No, the guard would then save me no matter what! Yeah..."
Sadly, or perhaps it's for the best, these fantasies will never come true. You're just going to have to wait another 15 boring minutes until it's your turn. The bad guy is actually just a normal non-evil person with no plots to take over the world. Or is he...?
Guess I'll just pop a pizza in the oven.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
Billy Mays here with another new fantastic product!
Infomercials. We all have a certain weaknesses, one of them being infomercials. We know that they are fake, too good to be true and most likely just a scam. Even if Mr. T is in them, praising the FlavorWave. Now that's just awesome. Semi-forgotten B-stars from the 90's, paid to make an appearance in infomercials and endorse the products, trying to recapture their lost fame. Mr. T has been showing up lately, recapturing his fame from the A-Team with WoW commercials and the FlavorWave. Yeah.
Whenever an infomercial is on television, I tend to stop zapping and watch it for a while, even if I've seen it several times before. I have encountered products like the aforementioned FlavorWave, Billy Mays endorsed Mighty Putty, the Ab Circle Pro and Zumba! Why is it that I can't help watching it? They are fake! I know it is fake! Or... is it?
"That looks good... No it doesn't work. He is convincing though... Just three seconds to cut up cheese for the pasta? No way that THAT was three seconds. But even so, it just takes a bit longer, but still should work like that. Oooh, is that chocolate milk? What am I thinking? It's all fake. A whole extra set? OH MY GOD I WANT THAT MAGIC BULLET BLENDER. Oh never mind, it costs how much? No thanks. But I still want to watch this, it's interesting. I'm hungry..."
A few months after first watching the infomercial for a product, I see it in the stores and I can't help but wonder whether the product might actually work. And every time I have to supress the urge to buy it on the spot, just to try it. I was apparently that impressed by the infomercial, that I would get an AeroBed, even if I don't have guests over and don't have the room for it in my 10m2 room. Is this the effect of the infomercial?
I should have bought it when I saw it on tv, at least then I would have gotten one extra...
Whenever an infomercial is on television, I tend to stop zapping and watch it for a while, even if I've seen it several times before. I have encountered products like the aforementioned FlavorWave, Billy Mays endorsed Mighty Putty, the Ab Circle Pro and Zumba! Why is it that I can't help watching it? They are fake! I know it is fake! Or... is it?
"That looks good... No it doesn't work. He is convincing though... Just three seconds to cut up cheese for the pasta? No way that THAT was three seconds. But even so, it just takes a bit longer, but still should work like that. Oooh, is that chocolate milk? What am I thinking? It's all fake. A whole extra set? OH MY GOD I WANT THAT MAGIC BULLET BLENDER. Oh never mind, it costs how much? No thanks. But I still want to watch this, it's interesting. I'm hungry..."
A few months after first watching the infomercial for a product, I see it in the stores and I can't help but wonder whether the product might actually work. And every time I have to supress the urge to buy it on the spot, just to try it. I was apparently that impressed by the infomercial, that I would get an AeroBed, even if I don't have guests over and don't have the room for it in my 10m2 room. Is this the effect of the infomercial?
I should have bought it when I saw it on tv, at least then I would have gotten one extra...
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
Death and his touch
In my circle of friends, many of them have come in contact with death. Of course everybody comes into contact with it eventually, since death is part of life. Without death, what would life be? We wouldn't be able to appreciate the life that we have. If I ever had the choice between a mortal or an immortal life without the possibility of dying, I'd pick the mortal life. Of course I'm curious about the future, but without a deadline for life, there would be no motivation.
Lately I've heard stories of people I know losing a family member, which made me start wondering about my own life. A cousin of mine lives in a small house with her daughter, her boyfriend, and her sister, and she has taken in our grandmother and her live-in-caretaker. My grandmother is not well. She is diabetic, anaemic, with kidney failure and since last week she also has a broken arm. Seeing her like this makes me think about how her life used to be.
My grandmother's life was not easy. This woman was married to a man I did not know well, and she bore him five children. It is now more than ten years since he died, and she still lives on. Of her five children she only has regular contact with her eldest son and her youngest daughter, my uncle and my mom. How this happened, I do not know. My grandmother and grandfather weren't rich, but they were rather wealthy. They had a maid, a big house with two stories, and their eldest son lived with them with his wife and four children. On a living room wall hung several pictures, my grandparents in their younger days and their parents. The wall of the staircase showed the university degrees their grandchildren had. I only remember my grandfather being scary, sitting in his big bed in the master bedroom, ordering people around. It's my only memory of him.
I remember the days that I'd sit with my grandmother and played card games with her. And how I was always told to run upstairs to her bedroom at night and tell her it was dangerous to smoke in bed. She has this green massage chair that I loved to sit in and pretend to be important, even though I were still far too small for it. (Nowadays I'm bigger than her, and it still doesn't get all the spots...) We used to watch telly together in her room at night when I was actually supposed to sleep, or I'd watch her cook her delicious food in the big kitchen.
I have always been amazed at the fact that she and my uncle would get up early in the morning to buy fantastic breakfast home for the rest of the family. They'd always be packed up in brown paper that could stand the oil, and it would be kept together with a red rubber band. I can still remember how they smelled and tasted. My grandmother loves certain foods which she cannot eat any longer due to her diabetes. She still does it sometimes, like a naughty little child. And she loves to give me money that I'd have to deny, because my mom would never let me. But of course then she'd still sneakily pass it to me, just because she could.
"Take it! Just take it already! Your mom doesn't have to know, just take it. I want to give it to you, I'm your grandmother! Go treat yourself to something nice, consider it a birthday present from me. Or a Christmas present. Perhaps a New Years present. Just because I haven't seen you in a while. I don't need it, you just use it. I have money, but what am I going to spend it on? So you just take it and use it. TAKE IT."
Yes, my grandmother was very persuasive. It didn't matter how much I struggled, I'd always end up with the money in my pocket. I love my grandmother, even though I don't talk to her much.
She has been in and out of the hospital lately, and I'm wondering how she feels about this. She's a fighter, but I often wonder how long she still has, and whether it would be better for her if death came soon. Is that a bad thing to think? I guess this is one of the things I ponder about at night when in bed, leaving me awake until 6 am.
She squeezed how many bowling balls out???
Lately I've heard stories of people I know losing a family member, which made me start wondering about my own life. A cousin of mine lives in a small house with her daughter, her boyfriend, and her sister, and she has taken in our grandmother and her live-in-caretaker. My grandmother is not well. She is diabetic, anaemic, with kidney failure and since last week she also has a broken arm. Seeing her like this makes me think about how her life used to be.
My grandmother's life was not easy. This woman was married to a man I did not know well, and she bore him five children. It is now more than ten years since he died, and she still lives on. Of her five children she only has regular contact with her eldest son and her youngest daughter, my uncle and my mom. How this happened, I do not know. My grandmother and grandfather weren't rich, but they were rather wealthy. They had a maid, a big house with two stories, and their eldest son lived with them with his wife and four children. On a living room wall hung several pictures, my grandparents in their younger days and their parents. The wall of the staircase showed the university degrees their grandchildren had. I only remember my grandfather being scary, sitting in his big bed in the master bedroom, ordering people around. It's my only memory of him.
I remember the days that I'd sit with my grandmother and played card games with her. And how I was always told to run upstairs to her bedroom at night and tell her it was dangerous to smoke in bed. She has this green massage chair that I loved to sit in and pretend to be important, even though I were still far too small for it. (Nowadays I'm bigger than her, and it still doesn't get all the spots...) We used to watch telly together in her room at night when I was actually supposed to sleep, or I'd watch her cook her delicious food in the big kitchen.
I have always been amazed at the fact that she and my uncle would get up early in the morning to buy fantastic breakfast home for the rest of the family. They'd always be packed up in brown paper that could stand the oil, and it would be kept together with a red rubber band. I can still remember how they smelled and tasted. My grandmother loves certain foods which she cannot eat any longer due to her diabetes. She still does it sometimes, like a naughty little child. And she loves to give me money that I'd have to deny, because my mom would never let me. But of course then she'd still sneakily pass it to me, just because she could.
"Take it! Just take it already! Your mom doesn't have to know, just take it. I want to give it to you, I'm your grandmother! Go treat yourself to something nice, consider it a birthday present from me. Or a Christmas present. Perhaps a New Years present. Just because I haven't seen you in a while. I don't need it, you just use it. I have money, but what am I going to spend it on? So you just take it and use it. TAKE IT."
Yes, my grandmother was very persuasive. It didn't matter how much I struggled, I'd always end up with the money in my pocket. I love my grandmother, even though I don't talk to her much.
She has been in and out of the hospital lately, and I'm wondering how she feels about this. She's a fighter, but I often wonder how long she still has, and whether it would be better for her if death came soon. Is that a bad thing to think? I guess this is one of the things I ponder about at night when in bed, leaving me awake until 6 am.
She squeezed how many bowling balls out???
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Ugglies
You probably know them, those furry, fluffy, hideous slippers called UGGS. From here on, I shall refer to these monstrosities as Ugglies. These days you see them everywhere, worn by that certain type of girl that is supposed to be hip, trendy and dressed the same as every other girl who tries to fit in. If you see them on a guy, respect to the guy for daring to venture into public with them, but from now on he will be known as a non-man.
These Ugglies must have been the creation of a blind alien with no sense of fashion who didn't even come up with a new idea. What could have been the reason to create these Ugglies, what could he have thought?
"Oh, these big fluffy slippers I wear are so comfortable, I don't ever want to take them off! You know what, I wont. And to prevent myself from looking stupid, I'm just going to pretend that these are the latest fashion objects and get everybody to join me in wearing these warm, comfortable, soft, Eskimo-inspired slippers. We'll all look stupid together, but everybody else will just think it's cool. Yeah~"
Stealing the ideas of Eskimos and combining them with slippers must be a million-dollar-business. Yes, let's manufacture these slippers with REAL wool, AUTHENTIC stuff and let's make them SUPER expensive too! If we sell them for lots of money, more than it costs to make them, we'll be rich I tell you, RICH! As rich as the guy who invented the internet!
So a friend of mine bought a pair of fake Ugglies. She said that she thought they were ugly, but that she just caved for the softness and comfort, and for the fact that they looked okay with an Asian-styled outfit she had. At first I laughed at her and joked that I didn't want to be seen with her any more. But I must admit, it didn't look bad. She has the looks and the skinny legs to wear them without looking like a total fool. I guess the reason I don't like them is not solely the ugliness, but also the image of the people that usually wear them. I wouldn't want to be caught dead in a pair of Ugglies, before somebody gets the wrong idea and thinks I'm the kind of girl that I have described earlier. At least my friend bought the cheap fake version for 20 euros and not the real and overpriced Ugglies.
The soft inside, keeping your feet warm in cold weather... And they do sometimes look okay on some people... And the fake versions are only 20 bucks... And I do need new shoes for the winter... And if I got them I'd make a statement that the shoes are also wearable for other people and that not everybody who wears them is without content...
...Screw it. I'm getting mine tomorrow.
Don't defriend me just because my shoes are ugly.
These Ugglies must have been the creation of a blind alien with no sense of fashion who didn't even come up with a new idea. What could have been the reason to create these Ugglies, what could he have thought?
"Oh, these big fluffy slippers I wear are so comfortable, I don't ever want to take them off! You know what, I wont. And to prevent myself from looking stupid, I'm just going to pretend that these are the latest fashion objects and get everybody to join me in wearing these warm, comfortable, soft, Eskimo-inspired slippers. We'll all look stupid together, but everybody else will just think it's cool. Yeah~"
Stealing the ideas of Eskimos and combining them with slippers must be a million-dollar-business. Yes, let's manufacture these slippers with REAL wool, AUTHENTIC stuff and let's make them SUPER expensive too! If we sell them for lots of money, more than it costs to make them, we'll be rich I tell you, RICH! As rich as the guy who invented the internet!
So a friend of mine bought a pair of fake Ugglies. She said that she thought they were ugly, but that she just caved for the softness and comfort, and for the fact that they looked okay with an Asian-styled outfit she had. At first I laughed at her and joked that I didn't want to be seen with her any more. But I must admit, it didn't look bad. She has the looks and the skinny legs to wear them without looking like a total fool. I guess the reason I don't like them is not solely the ugliness, but also the image of the people that usually wear them. I wouldn't want to be caught dead in a pair of Ugglies, before somebody gets the wrong idea and thinks I'm the kind of girl that I have described earlier. At least my friend bought the cheap fake version for 20 euros and not the real and overpriced Ugglies.
The soft inside, keeping your feet warm in cold weather... And they do sometimes look okay on some people... And the fake versions are only 20 bucks... And I do need new shoes for the winter... And if I got them I'd make a statement that the shoes are also wearable for other people and that not everybody who wears them is without content...
...Screw it. I'm getting mine tomorrow.
Don't defriend me just because my shoes are ugly.
Sunday, 29 November 2009
Naps and their takers.
A student's life is a busy life, with deadlines around every corner. Students, like myself, tend to procrastinate until it is unavoidable, after which we do not sleep all night to finish whatever assignment is due. Some of us keep going all day through, just picking up their sleeping rhythms as if nothing happened, yet others take a nap, or go to sleep earlier. Sadly for me, I am a taker of naps.
The takers of naps are divided into two groups. You have the short (power) nappers and the "i-am-going-to-sleep-for-as-long-as-my-body-wishes-me-to-sleep"-type. A short nap can be compared to a reboot of your computer if it slows down a bit, after which it will run normally again. (If it doesn't, you might want to get that checked out). A long nap is more like the sleep-mode, only to be woken after something disturbs it or if the computer just simply feels like it. (The latter is really scary at night).
I am lazy. Really, really, really lazy. I don't like to go to bed, but once I'm in it, I'm KO within 3 minutes. At least, I used to be. Before, I never took a nap, unless I was worn out because of some games I just had to play. Since my initiation into student life though, I have become... a nap taker.
The impact that this had on my sleeping life was huge. Naps became a routine for when avoiding assignments I did not wish to do, when I was bored, or just whenever I felt like it. I could no longer fall asleep immediately at night and was inhibited to sleep before 3 am. The next morning I would have to wake up early for classes, and when back at home, I'd take a nap, because I felt tired and didn't feel I could be productive anyway.
"I might as well sleep, or I'll just waste my time staring at the books and not absorb any information. If I take a nap, I'll feel refreshed! Oh yessirree, I will have myself that little nap."
Three hours later you wake up and find yourself hungry, and you can't ignore your stomach! While waiting for things to cook (because as a student, you only take microwaveable nourishment or instant noodles), you can't do any other work, because your stomach is still taking up all of your attention. After eating, you have to rest a bit to let your stomach process the food. In this stage, your body starts feeling tired again, so you take an after-dinner-nap. All warm and fuzzy from the food, you fall asleep quickly, only to wake up when it's past midnight.
Yes, past midnight. Times on the clock I have become all too familiar with. The zero that the hours start with are an indication that it is too late to do any homework. You should sleep, but it is impossible. All because of letting your body wake up from your nap when it is ready and had enough rest. With your eyes opened wide and your bed feeling uncomfortable, you stare at the clock, watching the minutes pass slowly, hoping that sleep will kick in soon, so you can still get enough sleep before your alarm clock rings. And as the night sky turns lighter and lighter and the sun starts to rise, it is as if the sun is trying to tell you it is hopeless.
"Sorry, but you're awake."
WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY~
The takers of naps are divided into two groups. You have the short (power) nappers and the "i-am-going-to-sleep-for-as-long-as-my-body-wishes-me-to-sleep"-type. A short nap can be compared to a reboot of your computer if it slows down a bit, after which it will run normally again. (If it doesn't, you might want to get that checked out). A long nap is more like the sleep-mode, only to be woken after something disturbs it or if the computer just simply feels like it. (The latter is really scary at night).
I am lazy. Really, really, really lazy. I don't like to go to bed, but once I'm in it, I'm KO within 3 minutes. At least, I used to be. Before, I never took a nap, unless I was worn out because of some games I just had to play. Since my initiation into student life though, I have become... a nap taker.
The impact that this had on my sleeping life was huge. Naps became a routine for when avoiding assignments I did not wish to do, when I was bored, or just whenever I felt like it. I could no longer fall asleep immediately at night and was inhibited to sleep before 3 am. The next morning I would have to wake up early for classes, and when back at home, I'd take a nap, because I felt tired and didn't feel I could be productive anyway.
"I might as well sleep, or I'll just waste my time staring at the books and not absorb any information. If I take a nap, I'll feel refreshed! Oh yessirree, I will have myself that little nap."
Three hours later you wake up and find yourself hungry, and you can't ignore your stomach! While waiting for things to cook (because as a student, you only take microwaveable nourishment or instant noodles), you can't do any other work, because your stomach is still taking up all of your attention. After eating, you have to rest a bit to let your stomach process the food. In this stage, your body starts feeling tired again, so you take an after-dinner-nap. All warm and fuzzy from the food, you fall asleep quickly, only to wake up when it's past midnight.
Yes, past midnight. Times on the clock I have become all too familiar with. The zero that the hours start with are an indication that it is too late to do any homework. You should sleep, but it is impossible. All because of letting your body wake up from your nap when it is ready and had enough rest. With your eyes opened wide and your bed feeling uncomfortable, you stare at the clock, watching the minutes pass slowly, hoping that sleep will kick in soon, so you can still get enough sleep before your alarm clock rings. And as the night sky turns lighter and lighter and the sun starts to rise, it is as if the sun is trying to tell you it is hopeless.
"Sorry, but you're awake."
WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY~
Saturday, 28 November 2009
An introduction.
In a desperate attempt to unclutter my female brain and create a neater overview on life, this is the spot where my overflowing mind can splatter all the brain-juices concerning the issues of the life of a 20 year old girl.
I can't help it, but sometimes I just feel like a gay guy trapped in a woman's body.
I can't help it, but sometimes I just feel like a gay guy trapped in a woman's body.
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