It's Naughty Thursday so let's talk about my Granny

Reblogged from Doggy's Style:

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Please welcome my guest for this Naughty Thursday. Lavinia is funny as hell and and was really kind to accept my invitation. Please head over her blog if you wanna experience good reading.

Leo asked if I could fill in for him for this naughty Thursday. I would never hesitate to accept such invitation, as I like to think naughty is my thing.

Read more… 530 more words

I did Naughty Thursday on Leo's blog today. Go check it out :)

The night I was such a bad ass

There was a time in my life when I had a crush on Spain. I spent there two summers in a row, enjoying the view, the art, the accent, the rebajas (my very favorite word in Spanish) and especially the ice cream and the sangria. Not at the same time, though. My days there were mostly peaceful and quiet and so inspirational.

The men are handsome in Spain. Not as handsome as in Greece, but still…For example, while in Fuengirola, on Costa del Sol, I couldn’t wait to go to the beach to check out this mysterious dark, tall, gorgeous guy, that was enjoying the sun in front of our hotel, every day, by himself. My boyfriend back then didn’t notice I was checking him out because he was busy checking him out, too. He was that handsome! I mean the stranger was handsome, not my boyfriend.

One of the girls in our group was single, so it was a matter of very few days until she and the beach boy started talking. I was happy for all of us. They put an end to their solitude and I could take a closer look at the beautiful stranger without leaving the impression that I am a psycho.

The guy told our friend he is from Morocco  and that he paints apartments for a living. Our friend thought he was very poor so each time he would go to buy drinks she would say she was fine and then would go by herself to buy her own drink and buying him one, also.  She was feeling such a pity for him, I was afraid at one point she would give him cash.

I wasn’t on the same page with her, because some things didn’t match the picture: he was wearing Ray Ban sunglasses, he had a Ralph Lauren beach towel and designer swim trunks, I forgot which designer, I am very bad with designers, to be honest. Not to mention he was at the beach all day long. Even if he was painting apartments at night, it would have still been impossible for him to be at the beach morning till evening, because he would need to sleep sometime during the 24 hours of a day, right?  I told my friend something was wrong but she laughed at me, saying something about how I never see the bright side, or something. Which is totally untrue, I am a sunny side up kind of girl, and not only in terms of how I like my eggs. Anyway, she didn’t mind my doubts. And I totally understand her, he was so damn hot!

One evening, we all went out to a pub. The Morocco boy brought a Spanish friend with him. This Spanish friend didn’t speak English, but my friends and I spoke a bit of  Spanish so we got along just fine.

At one point, the Spanish boy moved at the bar and in a few minutes a cute blonde girl approached him. They talked for a while or at least that is what they seemed to be doing. Then he came to our table, asking my friend and I to join him and help him talk to the girl, because they were having a language barrier between them, as she didn’t speak Spanish and he didn’t speak English. So we helped them:

Blonde girl to us: Tell him I need one gram.

My friend and I, looking at each other and laughing: Hahahaha, she must take you for somebody else. She asks if you can give her one gram. Hahahaha.

Spanish boy, very serious: Sure, tell her I will be back in twenty minutes.

And he went to the table, told something to the Morocco boy and both of them left. My friend and I got stuck with the British crack head, that was slowly losing it. She was biting her nails, feeling very sick and asking us every other minute:

“Where do your friends live? Is their stuff good? When are they coming back? They said twenty minutes. It’s not twenty minutes yet?”

We kept her spirits high (ok, I make puns, look at me!)  until “our friends” returned then off we went and went straight to our rooms.

What happened the next days was that we got back to our quiet days enjoying the sun, the sangria, the art, the ice cream and learned to live again without dealing drugs.  I am proud to say the Morocco boy never stepped on our beach again. We made a cocaine dealer change his spot, yes we did! Well, at least until we finished our holiday. And so you know, we only helped him deal out of our good hearts. And because we didn’t know what else to do with the British crack head.

My Romanian Diary Day 189: I don’t believe in God but I believe in days off, I am not pregnant and I have just bought a plane ticket

Ok, so the last weeks of April have been brutal. I actually had to work at work, the whole eight hours a day and sometimes even more! This was out of the blue and uncalled for, really.  Therefore, I got exhausted. But then followed a week break. May 1st is off and so is Easter time (May 5th and 6th) so what a hell, we got the days in between off too. Bliss! I know I am an atheist, you don’t need to remind me. I don’t believe in God but I truly, truly believe in days off. I slept a lot and I read a lot and I slept again and I watched one zillion Reba episodes and started to watch Downton Abbey and slept a lot and worked on my novel and slept a lot. My mind is so clear now that I feel like I can even do trigonometry.

With every religious holiday that passes I am more and more amazed with the Romanian people and with their appetite. Food is the center of their universe during holidays. What Jesus? What resurrection? What holy light? Let it be food! And alcohol, of course. We drink when we are sad, to forget and we drink when we are happy, to celebrate. We drink when babies are born, when people get married and when people die. There is absolutely no reason for us not to drink.

Back to food, I have just read a statics about  the calls made to the 112 (the Romanian 911) in Bucharest on Saturday night. The emergencies  were as follows: less than 10 car accidents, several people fainting in churches while waiting for the holly light, few heart problems and over 100!!! digestive problems! WTF???? People actually go in debt on Christmas and Easter to buy food, I swear. People that starve the entire year become social cases on TV because, poor them, they can’t have a proper meal on religious holidays. Oh, and if on Christmas we slaughter pigs, on Easter we slaughter lambs. I am not gonna show you any picture, it is too bloody. Poor lambs. They are so cute.

Trivia: did you know that on Easter, the holy light is brought from Jerusalem to Romania, by plane, every Saturday night before midnight? It amazes me every year how Romania has money for these religious shows bot not for sick people or for roads or for electricity.

As for me, during Easter, I had chicken and slept a lot. I love eating but I find it extremely unhealthy to bomb my body with too many calories at once. I like to keep my intake of calories regular. Especially because I have been such a moody eater lately. I had days when I couldn’t eat a thing and days when I felt I wanted to make the fridge a sandwich and devour it at once. No, I am not pregnant, I thought about it too.

By the way, I am gonna try to keep up with my Romanian diary the next few days, since they are gonna be the last days of this diary. I have just bought a one way ticket. Canada doesn’t want me just yet but there are other countries out there, right?

I will tell you more soon. Meanwhile, don’t forget to drop by tomorrow. What I have in store for you is a story that happened to me on Costa del Sol. It involves a handsome Moroccan. Curious yet?

Love,

Lavinia

Lavinia does Starbucks

It was a cold spring day in Toronto and I had laryngitis. That didn’t stop me from a Saturday stroll with the guy I was dating back then. We went to a park, stayed in the sun, had homemade sandwiches (made by him, at his home, I told you I was sick!), then walked the downtown a little. At one point, I told him I needed to drink something hot, as my throat was killing me. So, we entered a Tim Hortons, ordered a hot chocolate for me and sat down. Two minutes later he noticed his cell phone’s battery was running low. There was no outlet in there so he had this amazing idea:

“There is a Starbucks next door, let’s go there, they have outlets.”

I grabbed my Timmy hot chocolate and went next door. He ordered a coffee and I ordered nothing as I was still working on my hot chocolate.

I was minding my own business, sipping on my hot chocolate, waiting for my throat to feel better when a Starbucks guy walks towards me, holding a Starbucks cup:

“Miss, we couldn’t help notice you are drinking a product from our competition so I would like to offer you this coffee on the house.”

To which I replied:

“Thanks but I can’t drink coffee. I have a sore throat and I need hot chocolate to calm it down.”

He looked at me kind of puzzled. He probably expected me to be impressed. Or at least polite. Instead, I was brutally honest. So he left.

I kept minding my own business, sipping on my hot chocolate, waiting for my throat to feel better when the Starbucks guy walks towards me once again, holding another Starbucks cup:

“Miss, we took note of your observation, we are sorry about your throat, here is a hot chocolate for you, on the house, of course. Hope you will get better soon.”

The moral of the story?

Well, first of all, if you want a free Starbucks drink, take a cup from the competition inside their stores, sit down and drink it. Refuse their first free drink and tell them that’s not what you would really like, then tell them exactly what you would really like. On a side note, maybe you shouldn’t try this outside Canada. Or try and it let us know how it works out for you. It would be good to know if this is a Starbucks thing or just a Canadian thing. My date said the barista boy was hitting on me. But this is irrelevant, as he thought everybody was hitting on me, in general.

As for me, what I have learned from this experience, except for the fact that I can get free stuff pretty much anywhere, especially if the sellers are men, is that I need to learn on picking up hints. And get some manners.

I am so gonna do this one pretty soon!

This should be a new post

You see, I have a notebook and another smaller notebook and hundreds of post-its both at home and at work and in all my bags with topics I have to write about. I sit down and try to choose one of them when something else comes to my mind. And what usually comes to my mind is not a different topic but ideas like I have to clean my bags and my notebooks and my desk and my work computer and my home and my laptop and look! I have few more bags to clean that I totally forgot about and oh! this bag would totally match those shoes I bought last autumn, where are they, oh my God, did I give them away already, why do I keep giving away my stuff, no, I don’t have too many stuff, it’s just my closet is too small, I need a new closet, but how about I move to another apartment, in fact, I should move to London for a while, I really like Tate Modern and the chic London boys, too bad it rains so much, well, that won’t kill me, hey! I used to have some rain boots, where are they, oh, here they are, I don’t like them anymore, I should give them away, yeah, totally, my battery is low, where is my charger, never mind, I am hungry anyway, no, I don’t feel like having soup, I should go out for a pizza and then for a walk in the park, yes, and I will bring a book with me, sure, let’s make today a reading day, but right after I take a nap.

 

P.S. Happy spring, lovely readers!

Yes, that’s me. At work. During a cultural event. My inner child won’t grow up, not my fault.