sâmbătă, mai 16, 2009
Movie night at Ioana's place
miercuri, mai 13, 2009
It was Dublin city on a Friday night You were vodkas and coke, I was Guinness all night
It's been a while since the two of us talked
About a week since the day you walked
Knowing things would never be the same
With your empty heart and mine full of pain
So explain to me, how it came to this
Take it back to the night we kissed
It was Dublin city on a Friday night
You were vodkas and coke, I was Guinness all night
We were sitting with our backs against the world
Saying things that we thought but never heard
Who would have thought it would end up like this?
Where everything we talked about is gone
And the only chance we have of moving on
Is try to take it back
Before it all went wrong
Before the worst, before we mend
Before our hearts decide
It's time to love again
Before too late, before too long
Lets try to take it back
Before it all went wrong
There was a time, that we'd stay up all night
Best friends talking till the daylight
Took the joys alongside the pain
With not much to loose, but so much to gain
Are hearing me? Cause I don't wanna miss,
Set you a drift on memory bliss
It was Grafton Street on a rainy night
I was down on one knee and you where mine for life
We we're thinking we would never be apart
With your name tattooed across my heart
Who would have thought it would end up like this?
Where everything we talked about is gone
And the only chance we have of moving on
Is try to take it back
Before it all went wrong
Before the worst, before we mend
Before our hearts decide
It's time to love again
Before too late, before too long
Lets try to take it back
Before it all went wrong
If the clouds don't clear
Then well rise above it, well rise above it
Heavens gate is so near
Come walk with me through
Just like we use to, just like we use to
Lets take it back
Before it all went wrong
Before the worst, before we mend
Before our hearts decide
It's time to love again
Before too late, before too long
Lets try to take it back
Before it all went wrong
duminică, mai 10, 2009
Mr. Brrr si povestea nascocita pe timp de ploaie.
In sfarsit ploaie. Afara toarna si tuna, ceea ce mi se pare genial. Nici nu-mi aduc aminte cand a plouat ultima oara asa. Profit de asta, si imi permit sa trantesc niste idei aici, lucru pe care nu l-am facut demult. Tocmai a trecut cineva pe strada si am auzit un "brrrrr" tremurat. Am auzit pasi grabiti, deci presupun ca era infiorat de ploaie si tunete. Poate se grabea la cineva drag, poate tipul (zic tipul pentru ca i-am identificat vocea groasa) are o prietena, care in acest pustiu din saptamana, il asteapta pe o canapea la un film bun, sau poate il asteapta cu masa pusa(desi ar fi cam tarziu pentru cina), dichistita, pregatindu-se in oglinda si trecandu-si acelasi ruj peste buzele ei de papusa. Poate acasa nu-l asteapta nimeni, ceea ce ar fi putin trist...
Totusi tind sa cred ca tipul respectiv, sa-i zicem Mr. Brrr are o prietena undeva, foarte posibil ca tipa, sa-i zicem Mrs. Brrrr, are si un catel pufos, sa-i zicem Mike. Foarte probabil ea sta pe canapea cu o patura pufoasa pe ea, in trening si cu parul ciufulit. Se uita la o emisiune tampita si incearca sa se amuze, zambeste la glumele proaste si isi mai trece mana peste capul ghemului de blana. Defapt nu-si poate opri ochii din sincronul "Ceas-telefon, Ceas-telefon". Se pare ca intarzie totusi... Isi mentine calmul desi un soricel o roade pe dinauntru. Se ridica si probabil isi afunda picioarele in niste papucii pufosi si ii fleoscaie pana in bucatarie, unde isi mai prepara o ciocolata calda. Mike se invarte printre picioarele ei ca un titirez in speranta ca ea ii va da un pumn de Pedigree. Mr. Brrr este ud leoarca si sunt sigura ca maine va fi racit si dupa ce va ajunge (daca va ajunge) la ea si ea va fi racita pana dimineata. Afara tuna, si a se adanceste in patura moale. In timp ce invarte telecomanda in mana se gandeste la atmosfera , care e mai mult absenta. Ploaia nu se opreste, dar soneria suna. Mrs. Brrr sare de pe canapea, aluneca pe gresie si dupa o mica sperietura deschide usa. In fata usii sta un "catel plouat". Ud din cap pana in picioare, isi storcea geaca. Fara sa-l mai sarute, aceasta zapaceala mica de fata fuge dupa un prosop, dar se intoarce cu un halat de baie. Il saruta si se simte usurata. Cu ropotele ei, ploaia favorizeaza mangaierile ceea ce e sublim. Se aseaza amandoi pe canapea si afara inca ploua.
Ce-mi poate mintea slabita pe timp de ploaie. :)) Totusi cine il asteapta defapt acasa pe mr. Brrr?