Il reste cependant un *poivron farci* datant d'il y a quelques années que je n'ai pas encore fouillé à fond. Cessons donc de bloguer et replongeons dans le café et la pharmaco.

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ona: - widzisz, problem w tym, że ty masz fioła na punkcie seksu...
ona: - nie możesz rozmawiać o tym 24 godziny na dobę
ona: - i na pytanie "jak byś chciał spędzić wieczór?" nie odpowiadać "najpierw na górze, potem na dole a na koniec z tyłu"
ona: - a na pytanie "gdzie byś chciał pobalować" - "wszystko jedno, byle było jak najwięcej seksu"
ona: - chodź, spróbujemy jeszcze raz - więc jak byś chciał spędzić wieczór?
on: - eee... teraz nawet nie wiem co powiedzieć, żeby nie skłamać...
ona: - spróbuj odpowiadać ostrożnie.
on: - z tobą!
ona: - tak, bardzo dobrze. a co byś chciał ze mną robić dziś wieczorem?
on: - po prostu być z tobą!
ona:- brawo! pana odpowiedź została zaakceptowana!
ona: - wygrał pan główną nagrodę!
on: - seks!?
ona: - k*rwa...

So, for today, it'll just have to be a stock market joke I got in a forwarded email. xP
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Updated Wallpaper of the week:
The 1000th Summer, from Air (Anime)

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This is the Stock Market!

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Once upon a time in a village, a man appeared and announced to the villagers that he would buy monkeys for $10.
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The villagers seeing that there were many monkeys around, went out to the forest and started catching them.
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The man bought thousands at $10 and as supply started to diminish, the villagers stopped their effort. He further announced that he would now buy at $20. This renewed the efforts of the villagers and they started catching monkeys again.

Soon the supply diminished even further and people started going back to their farms. The offer rate increased to $25 and the supply of monkeys became so little that it was an effort to even see a monkey, let alone catch it!
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The man now announced that he would buy monkeys at $50! However, since he had to go to the city on some business, his assistant would now buy on behalf of him.
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In the absence of the man, the assistant told the villagers, "Look at all these monkeys in the big cage that the man has collected. I will sell them to you at $35 and when the man returns from the city, you can sell them to him for $50."
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The villagers squeezed up with all their savings and bought all the monkeys.
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Then they never saw the man nor his assistant again, only monkeys everywhere.
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Welcome to the Stock Market!!!!!

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xP
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This joke is ridiculous, I tell you... I pity the villagers. xD
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That's all for today~

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~Estrelita Farr, signing out!

The first guy says, "I would like to hear them say that I was the greatest doctor of my time, and a great family man."

The second guy says, "I would like to hear that I was a wonderful husband and school teacher who made a huge difference in our children of tomorrow."

The last guy replies, "I would like to hear them say... LOOK!!! HE'S MOVING!!!"

With that done he put the microphone back, but forgot to turn off the switch. He then turned towards the co-pilot, stretched his arms and said: "Well, that's that. I guess now I'll have a shit and then I'll screw the stewardess."

Everybody in the plane heard him including the stewardess. She ran up the aisle to tell the captain to turn off the microphone, but half-way up the aisle a little old lady had her purse on the floor. The stewardess tripped on this purse and ended up on her back right beside the little old lady.

The old gal leaned over, looked down at the stewardess and said, "You don't have to hurry, honey, you heard he's gonna take a shit first!"

The story is that Albert Einstein's driver used to sit at the back of the hall during each of his lectures, and after a period of time, remarked to Einstein that he could probably give the lecture himself, having heard it several times.
So, at the next stop on the tour, Einstein and the driver switched places, with Einstein sitting at the back, in driver's uniform.
The driver gave the lecture, flawlessly. At the end, a member of the audience asked a detailed question about some of the subject matter, upon which the lecturer replied, 'well, the answer to that question is quite simple, I bet that my driver, sitting up at the back, there, could answer it...'

hour. The wife is behind the wheel.

Her husband suddenly looks across at her and speaks in a clear voice.

"Darling," he says. "I know we've been married for twenty years, but I want

a divorce."

The wife says nothing, keeps looking at the road ahead but slowly increases

her speed to 45 mph.

The husband speaks again. "I don't want you to try and talk me out of it,"

he says, "because I've been having an affair with your best friend, and

she's a far better lover than you are."

Again the wife stays quiet, but grips the steering wheel more tightly and

slowly increases the speed to 55.

He pushes his luck.. "I want the house," he says insistently. Up to 60 mph.

"I want the car, too," he continues. 65 mph. "And," he says,"I'll have the

bank accounts, all the credit cards and the boat."

The car slowly starts veering towards a massive concrete bridge. This makes

him a wee bit nervous, so he asks her: "Isn't there anything you want?"

The wife at last replies - in a quiet and controlled voice. "No, I've got

everything I need." she says. "Oh, really?" he inquires, "So what have you

got?"

Just before they slam into the wall at 75 mph, the wife turns to him and

says "The airbag."

So, that got me thinking. I know since finding out I’ve got some well-hidden depths she’s been treating me like a fragile vase (‘not too stressed? Not too angry? You’re OK, right, Su?’), but that’s just because she loves me. I’m in a sensible frame of mind right now and so I know that’s true. Catch me some other day and I’m sure I’d be convinced she hates me and hating her right back, but today, nope, I know she loves me. That’s why she’s so paranoid about me lately: she doesn’t want to leave me alone when I’m irritated and angry because she doesn’t know what’s happening to me.  I mean, after I spoke to my GP for that first time, he called home and told my mother that her eldest daughter was hearing voices in her head, hallucinating, trying to kill herself, and self-harming. She hung up, walked out into the hallway looking like she’d just returned from World War One, and said in a very strange, wobbly voice: ‘Suzanne… I didn’t realise you’d been hearing voices in your head…’ And I got mad at her, because I hadn’t known the doctor would call home, and I felt patronised by that phrase, and I didn’t want her to know, and I don’t self-harm, and they weren’t in my head, I’d told the doctor that, they were outside my head. No one was listening to me. I felt like I was just being treated like a crazy kid, and that wasn’t what I wanted.

Getting back to where I was originally going, I simply never realised that my mother perceives me as the kind of girl who might fly into such an out of control rage. I’d never realised she might be afraid to leave me on my own for fear of what I’d do to myself and everything around to me. And I definitely never thought she thought I’d do this over iTunes.

With this still hanging over me yesterday, and with me and my friends being stuck in a long queue for this...

... going nowhere and going there slow, I decided to see just how many people would hypothetically agree with my mother. Let’s get a re-enactment going:

“Hey, guys, would you say I get mood swings sometimes?”

“Ha!” says Lucy.

“What?” says I.

“Well, yeah!”

“What, like bad ones?” because her and Ellie are practically wetting themselves laughing at this point.

“They’re terrifying!”

“Really?”

Ellie is vaguely nicer than Lucy about such things, so she says: “Sometimes, right, you’re just like really jokey and laughing and then you’ll be like not joking anymore but we’re not sure why, and you seem really angry. But we’re not sure if you’re joking. And you get angry about it.”

I watch a shrieking party of hyper twenty-somethings heading off into a dark tunnel in a plastic log and contemplate the deeper meaning of this. I don’t see one.

“Let’s just say I don’t want to get on the wrong side of that side of you!” she says, and starts laughing again. Lucy is still cracking up.

“They’re scary, Su!” Lucy’s not stopped laughing, but she’s watching me when she says it, all wary-like; she thinks I’m about to turn right now. She thinks she’s overstepped the mark and triggered Scary Suze. She makes me feel like Jack Torrance feels at the end of The Shining, when Danny and Wendy are terrified of him but trying to act normal, so he doesn’t start having ideas about those roque mallets they have in the Overlook’s shed.

So that was me told.

OK, I know my moods swing like Rush at Thorpe Park. I vaguely know that they’re not quite the same as the ones other kids in my year get (I’m not sure how different, though, because my evaluation wasn’t very useful at telling me how much of what I’d felt was psychosis-related and how much of it was hormone-related). I know they snap around at least five times a day usually, and I suppose I know that they’ve got to be pretty obvious, because I’ve seen my friends withering and hiding, and when I still had bolshie friends (all my bolshie school friends deserted me last year after a series of mega-fights: now all my school friends are very shy, low-self-confidence types, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it means that when I’m being angry and rude and seriously out of order they don’t throw it back in my face, they just sit there and take it and wither) these bolshie friends would get mad too, because I was being unreasonable, and we’d have huge raving arguments over such pressing matters as biscuits, and carrots, resulting in deep hatred on my part and seething irritation on theirs.

This is the problem. I know I fall into screaming arguments just as often as I fall into other realities; just as often as all my self-esteem deserts me for someone more worthy of its attentions; just as often as I end up sitting and crying at the wall for no real reason and just as often as I get angry without a purpose too. I know all this. I just never realised I was scary.

Dosen Kimia: Ciuman adalah reaksi akibat interaksi
dari senyawa yang dikeluarkan oleh dua hati.

Dosen Mikrobiologi: Ciuman adalah pertukaran bakteri
uniseksual di dalam air liur.

Dosen Biologi: Ciuman adalah menyatunya dua otot
orbicularis oris dalam keadaan kontraksi.

Dosen Ekonomi: Ciuman adalah sesuatu di mana
permintaan lebih besar daripada penawaran.

Dosen Statistik: Ciuman adalah kejadian yang
peluangnya bisa sangat tergantung dari angka statistik
berikut: 36-24-36.

Dosen Teknik: Ciuman? Apa itu? Yang saya tau hanya
bibir dan bibir menempel...abis gitu jadi horny!!

Mereka tidak saling mengenal satu dengan yang lainnya.Perjalanan nyaman2 saja, ketika masuk ke terowongan tiba2 lampu mendadak mati pula. Gelap gulita. Tiba-tiba terdengar suara kecupan yang keras...Cap, cip, cup!. Namun segera diikuti satu suara tamparan yang tidak kalah kerasnya... Plak, Plek, Plak, Gedubrak!!!

Ketika terowongan itu terlewati, keempat penumpang itu saling bengong dan saling memandang, dan masing-masing berkata di dalam hati.

Sang nenek dalam hati :
Dasar anak mahasiswa muda, mentang-mentang tempat gelap langsung aja cium mahasiswi cantik itu. Rasain loe kena gaplok !!!

Si Mahasiswi cantik dan sexy dalam hatinya :
Biar rasa loe !!! gelap-gelap asal cium, kena deh loe cium nenek itu, dan kena gaplokan juga lagi.! hihihi..

Si tentara dalam hati :
Busyet dah, enak bener tuh mahasiswa. Dia yang nyium cewek sexy, eh gua yang kena gaplok #$%$!!

Si mahasiswa laki itu berkata dalam hati :
He.. he.. mumpung gelap, tadi gua cium aja tangan gua sendiri, dan gua gaplok sekalian itu tentara belagu. Kapan lagi mahasiswa bisa gampar tentara !!!...

Author 1: Does China have any dogs?
Author 2: No, all cooked.
Author 1: LOL
Author 2 : Serious, there are none on the streets. They're probably smart enough to hide in the sewers or something.

Act "Seh" summore, wear this kind of Jacket.

Now then, the basic components of a journalism article are as follows: hed, dek, lede, nut graf, body, and kicker. And if you can resist thinking dirty thoughts about that series, you are a more self-controlled person than I (and Saturday's dirty joke contestants).

First thing to know: Journalists enjoy screwing with layfolk.

All of those terms are misspelled intentionally. Anyone in an editorial office will claim this is so those words don't get mixed up with the actual copy of an article and accidentally printed, but this is a lie worthy of getting booted into a deeper circle of hell. One with those people who scratch themselves in inappropriate ways when they're in rush-hour traffic on the way to work. Like no one can see them behind their protective pane of opaque glass. Oh, we can see you. And so can the Gods of Judgment, and they are judging you as harshly as we are. We can only wrinkle our noses and mutter under our breath, but the Gods of Judgment can SMITE you.

Right. Where was I? The real reason for misspelling the terms is kept a secret from all other occupations (carpenters, pool drainers, CEOs of major corporations, et cetera). I cannot divulge the secret, lest the Ninja Journalists of Hibachi come after me in my sleep, but I am permitted to tell you the following: it involves an elaborate drinking game, an avocado, and (peripherally) Indiana Jones. More I dare not say.

Worth remembering: the only time journalists, English majors, copywriters, copyeditors, regular editors, or anal-retentive people will let you get away with misspelling is when WE have initiated the misspelling. This intention must also have a nefarious purpose behind it, and will probably be to the exclusion of all others. This is because everyone thought it was a cop-out major in college. Who's laughing now? The Masters of Spelling, that's who.

Anyway. They're misspelled. Roll with it.

Hed.

Hee hee hee. Sorry. Okay. 'Hed' is short (and misspelled) for 'headline.' This one is fairly obvious. Let's give our article the headline "Optimus Prime." Because we can.

Dek

The dek is short and misspelled (which we shall hereby refer to as 'S&M' for brevity and humor purposes) for declaration. This is a sentence or two just below the headline that summarizes what's in the piece. It's not part of the article, it just sort of hangs with the lede like an extraneous buddy. The dek is basically the journalistic equivalent of the ugly friend. A lot of articles do without one for this reason. Ours is "Scientists determine the best sexual position." See why we didn't really want it? Feel free to excise it mentally from our article.

Lede

S&M for 'lead-in', the lede is the grabber sentence. This is the sentence whose job it is to prevent you from putting down your paper and picking up your crying child instead. It is supposed to be either shocking, informative, fascinating, or sexy. We're going with sexy, since we're already there. "Doggie style."

That's actually a fragment, which is not uncommon for ledes. My lede would actually be a list, in fragment form, and it would go like this. "Doggie style. Missionary. Cowgirl. You won't need 'em anymore."

See? Aren't you intrigued?

Nut graf

The nut graf is S&M for, get this, 'nut paragraph.' It basically means the paragraph that's going to give you an overall sum-up of what's to follow. The main nugget. The nut. This is more of journalists screwing with you. Pay it no mind. In my experience, frequently the nut graf is where one of two things happens: either you get really psyched about what you're about to learn, or you find out that you were suckered by the lede and this article isn't about what you thought it was about. Since our theme for the day is 'journalists are messing with you', we're going to have our nut graf do the latter.

"A team of scientists, attempting to ascertain the best sexual position for those choosing abstinence, determined early this week that the optimal position was sitting in a separate room from one's partner and conducting a phone conversation. This position has benefits that no other sexual position has, including lack of all sensation, a feeling of numbness and bewilderment, and occasional bouts of anger at one's parents and former lovers."

Body

The body is where all the real information is. In our article, we'd talk about the experiments the scientists conducted, quote them, quote their study group if we could get ahold of them, and generally kill you with information. This is the part of an article where most people tune out. Proven fact: if the article is not personally relevant to you and your life, you will not continue reading past the first paragraph. You'll skim the main body until you get to the kicker.

Kicker

The kicker is the closing sentence or sentences that make you feel glad about leaving, so here we go.

"Just kidding. Go get laid."

That'll teach the Friar to ask relevant questions.

Subscribe or I'll tell you what a deadline really is.

Sempat berpikir juga saat selesai membacanya ... sebuah tulisan dari Ngarto Februana di korantempo. Silahkan dibaca dan termenung atau tertawa atau bahkan bingung ... :D

"Opo bedane kucing ambek manuk?" tanya Sudrun kepada Sarun dalam perjalanan pulang dari upacara Kebangkitan Nasional di Kelurahan Adem Ayem.

"Yo, jelas bedo!" sahut Sarun.

"Kucing dielus-elus turu, manuk dielus-elus...." ujar Sudrun.

"Sik, Cak," tukas Sarun, yang sudah tahu arah omongan bekas pimpinan ludruk itu. "Lek guyon ojo nyerempet pornografi. Sing liane ae, Cak."

"Apa bedanya kucing dan macan?"

"Kucing kecil, macan besar. Kucing dielus-elus, tidur. Manuk, eh, macan... baru didekati saja, sudah bangkit," jawab Sarun. "Macan menyadari dirinya beda dengan kucing. Karena itu, macan tidak mau menyakiti kucing."

"Lalu hubungannya dengan kebangkitan bangsa?"

"Sampean ini ono-ono ae, Cak, Cak. Kucing, yo, kucing. Macan, yo, macan. Bangsa, yo, bangsa. Bangkit, yo, bangkit. Gak ono hubungane."

Sudrun tampak serius lalu berkata: "Dulu bangsa ini ibarat macan. Gagah perkasa, pemberani. Bersenjata bambu runcing saja bangkit melawan penjajah. Kalau harga dirinya disentuh, ngamuk. Ganyang Malaysia, linggis Inggris, setrika Amerika."

Sarun terdiam. "Lha, sekarang?"

"Sekarang ibarat kucing. Dielus-elus, malah tidur, terlena. Dielus-elus dengan utang luar negeri, terlena. Kucing itu, kalau lagi kawin, urusan berahi, ribute puool. Masyarakat sekarang juga begitu. Ribut-ribut kalau urusan kawin. Ulama kondang poligami, semua ribut. Anggota Dewan mesum dengan penyanyi dangdut, ribut semua. Penyanyi dangdut goyang ngebor, ngeang-ngeong kabeh. Tapi setelah itu diam."

Sudrun ada benarnya. Kenapa energi bangsa ini tidak dioptimalkan untuk mengatasi kelaparan, kemiskinan, dan masalah besar lainnya?

"Sik, Cak, hubungannya dengan kebangkitan bangsa?" tanya Sarun.

"Walau Hari Kebangkitan Nasional diperingati tiap tahun, bangsa ini ndak bangkit-bangkit, selama bermental kucing. Tidak akan bangkit dari krisis, dari kemiskinan, dari kepicikan pikiran tidak bisa menerima perbedaan," kata Sudrun. "Saatnya bangsa ini mengubah diri jadi macan."

Sarun manggut-manggut.

"Yo, wis, sepurane sing akeh lek ono sing tersinggung. Kucing mudah tersinggung kalau dikritik."

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