Back from the three days of coughing fits and depressive episodes, I am forced to spring back into action swinging a 5-kilo photography equipment plus a tripod that is also a bashing weapon against thugs and monsters at night.

I still hate cats, and no matter what, I will never cry watching Titanic.

For that someone I bothered about killing myself, I am so sorry. That was too selfish of me. Again, I realized there is no Jessica Alba in afterlife. Jessica Alba outweighs being dead. Don't get me started with Kate Walsh and Rachel Weisz. Enough said.

I learned that quitting school and job(s) at the same time will make you nothing more than a bum. No amount of artistic acts can justify that in this world of capital. No matter how much of an artist you are, you are still broke, in danger of starvation and seriously facing eternal damnation.

Everybody pays and more often than not, way beyond what they need to. For every single thing that we fix, something will break. If the equation is consistent, then fuck everyone who gets more than they deserve.

People has to stop telling me that I'm lucky. I am not, and Lucky isn't the best name on the world to begin with. These people should be in the same place I stand and own everything that I have. Rest assured that in a day or two, they will realize that this isn't what they wanted after all.

Love--- what do I know? As far as I am concerned, I developed this involuntary attraction to women who shed tears after watching a show from Animal Planet.

Before Sunrise and Before Sunset are still two of my favorite movies. Watch it and we'll be friends. Memorize the script and I will love and cherish and treasure and marry you, but then you have to be a woman in her mid 20s who likes younger men with no current occupation other than being a bum.

Lastly, everything is momentarily. Leave what has to be left and take as much as you can to the next second-- the life you are saving can be yours.

What happens if suddenly, that blue board at the central station that lists all the departing and arriving traints goes blank?

What happens if the trains actually stopped coming?

I was on my way to meeting up with a friend's friend at Amsterdam Central Station who was arriving from Vienna. I had no idea how she looked like, I had no idea how to contact her. All I had in my mind was that I was supposed to meet someone at Burger King who did not have a working cellphone at the moment and that I was supposed to be there before 12:30pm.

Then BAAM! Suddenly, the trains in the city I was coming from stopped working. And I was sure that I wasn't the only one who had these words in my mind that very moment, looking at people's faces at the station: Oh shit. Half of them were on phones. Some were taking pictures of the magical blue board that stopped working. Some of them curled up at the nearest corner and prayed for salvation. The media arrived. Security agents popped out of nowhere like daisies during spring time. It was a disaster, and any sadistic soul who was in the scene would have had an orgasm on-the-spot.

 

Much like something I posted a couple of days ago, some businesses and establishments just couldn't be more suggestive.

By that I mean, let's go rob-a-bank.

 

 

Subtitle: It involves dead people and animals and plants.

 

This is 4th, as far as I can remember, article (read: complaints) about the supermarket I'm working for. For those who did not read those walls of text and pictures I've put up a couple of months ago, here's a quick summary:

Without stupid customers, my job would have been way easier. Also, carts are evil.

During the next agonizing weeks, I could not help but think of new suggestions that can certainly help each employee carry their quotas out without casualties. If I were to be the boss, the house rules would be something like these:

1) Do not fulfill your social obligations in the grocery store. Unlike a bar, the grocery store is not the right place to hook up and get laid. If you can't keep your pie hole shut, then at least keep your voice down. Contrary to your popular belief, we do not care about you, or your lover who does not love you anymore.

2) Keep the stupid out. Stop asking for hardware merchandise. We don't sell computer parts either. Asking for any of these does not make you sound smart or geeky. Please leave the store and play with a chainsaw.

3) Assholes are not allowed. Okay. Some stupid people are tolerated because they actually have their own way of solving their problems (with the help of natural selection) and isolating themselves from the healthy rest (read: ie eating poison, getting hit by a stationary truck). However, unlike stupid people, the the only solution I can think of is pitting all these assholes and bitches into one room for at least 5 hours and lord takes care of the rest. (it takes 1 hour for them to hate each other, another for throat cutting, and the rest to make sure everyone is dead)

4) Sex inside the store is not allowed. I actually have a logical reason for this one, unfortunately, I lost it on my way home.

5) Keep your pets out. Also, your kids, whichever you have. If you are not teaching them how to be good at buying stuff and helping their parents, leave them chained outside. Rest assured they're not going anywhere. If your kid/dog/cat is ugly enough, divide the chances they'd be stolen by two.

6) The cheese department does not exist. If for some reason you can't find the biggest department next to the bakery, then the government must have covered it up for national security purposes. Please come again (or don't. really).

7) If you can't find it, then it's not there. It's god's way of telling you to stop drinking. Or eating, for that matter. Do you really think that when you ask as me to check if we still have stock in the storage, I'd go through the fuss of digging over and under the piles of unlabeled boxes? Heck no, I'd usually sit inside the cooling room and count to ten or call my mom and dad to say I love them. No, we don't have it.

8) Please wash up and use deodorizers. This is actually for the hot chick who hangs her 30-euro a month phone installment on her neck and wears designer clothes and shoes but miserably fails on taking care of her body odor. If you can buy shit that does not, in any way, help humanity for justice and peace and the riddance of George Bush, then another 3 bucks for the cheapest Lysol wouldn't be a big thing to shoulder. Also, being stinky will not help you get laid, no matter how much pheromones you sweat.

I know, I know. I shouldn't be making fun of stupid names. Especially in a country where the English language isn't exactly the friendliest one.

But sometimes I'd stop in awe and say, "What the fuck are these people thinking?"

 

 

This is actually a service vehicle for a house cleaning agency. I'm not sure if the name was just apt or not but one thing is for sure.

If you want your house cleaned, I'd definitely think twice about calling any of these people in.