Happy blogday, dear Bambolina!

Nadnevak sub - 21.02.2009 | Komentari > 9

Nemrem bolivit! :D

Pa zar je zbilja tri godine prošlo otkad pišem ovaj blog?? Projurile za tren, stvarno vrijeme brže leti što si stariji, hihi.

E pa sretan mi rođendan. Blogovski! :)

Looking backwards, bilo je tu svega. Nešto ružnih trenutaka, al nećemo se vraćati na ružno, i mnogo više lijepih. Onih koji se pamte... 

Prilično je često ovaj blog izgledao mrvicu konfuzan. Jer se spajala sadašnjost, oživljavala prošlost i ponekad čeznula nekakava ružičasta budućnost. Makar može biti i ljubičasta na tufnice, I don't care! Redale su se različite priče...

Prva je priča bila nešto što sam zbilja htjela at that time. Isprepletali su se krasni trenuci zajedno i oni puni jada, čemera i emocionalnih križaljki u danima kada smo bili svaki na svojoj strani. On je imao curu, on je htio mene i curu, a ja sam htjela njega bez cure. :D Poslije je rekao kako je bio slabić otrgnuti se iz nečega poznatog da bi ostavio sve i krenuo u nešto za što nije imao garancije da će uspjeti, a meni je bilo krivo što nije bio rezolutan kao ja i napravio rezove. Na kraju, ili na početku, sam ga ostavila, ljuta i jadna, ali sigurna da me nitko neće praviti budalom i naviknuti na drugo mjesto u srcu, kad ja u životu uvijek stremim biti prva, ma što radila i ma gdje bila. i šta onda vrijedi da mu se sviđam...

Druga je pak priča bila nešto sasvim imaginarno... kratkotrajno razmišljanje na razini simpatija iz srednje škole, a ja nikad simpi nisam imala tri čiste reć šta mislim. :D

Treća je priča, iskreno, bio potpuni promašaj. Pokušala sam napraviti prevelike kompromise i promijeniti nešto što se nije dalo promijeniti. Kad kažem nešto, mislim netko. I koliko god se smijem curama koje isto neuspješno pokušavaju u svojim vezama, sama sam upala u tu zamku a da toga nisam bila ni svjesna.

Četvrta je priča bila totalna komedija. A ne mo'š baš bit s nekim who you are laughing at, not laughing with. :D

Na kraju i na početku, Medo. Šta reć o tome? Čovjek koji je najviše utjecao na moj život, odluke, preko njega vidjela kako neki ljudi nažalost rezoniraju, provela jako puno lijepih trenutaka, a na kraju sam imala osjećaj da sam ispala totalna bitch. I to me kopkalo dugo, dok nismo dugo nakon svega stupili u kontakt i dok nisam vidjela da mi ne zamjera ništa. Vjerovala sam da sa mnom nikad neće prozboriti više ni riječi, koliko sam bila nefer prema njegovu srcu, no dočekao me prijateljski i na tome mu veliko hvala...

Otpetljavši se iz ovog koluta, trebalo je utipkati novi tag. Peta priča? Bilo me strah napisati to jer sam se osjećala da se u tom slučaju ne bih maknula s mjesta. A htjela sam nekome biti drukčija, iskrenija, bolja. Kada je sve počinjalo, nismo bili više od prijatelja, dapače, dugo sam ga prijateljem i smatrala. :) I kad su krenuli mali leptirići u trbuhu, nisam ni sama znala što napraviti, upustiti se u to ili ne. No nakon jednog dejta, koji je proizašao iz sasvim prijateljske kave, i na kojem me, i danas me sram toga kad se sjetim, :D preveslao da uvoze snijeg na Sljemenu, napravila sam silenzio stampa s Medom i odlučila to make it the first day of the rest of my life...

U njemu sam dobila krasnog dečka, pametnog, smiješnog za poludit, dragog i dobrog, ambicioznog i poštenog, a bome i vjernog. Za promjenu! :D Baš mi paše i skroz mi je drago što smo se pronašli. I yebiga što ne zvučim nimalo romantično, ne puca me ta vibra u pet ujutro, nakon što se probudih u 2 misleći da je 7. Očito se prerijetko budim u sedam jer bih jamačno znala da je tada na obzorju već potpuni dan.

Laku noć, moje zaljubljeno i solersko društvance. :) I ono pooženjeno i pooudano, a tad baš neću ić u definicije međuljudskih odnosa da se ne zeznem.

Pusa vam!

KAKO POJMOVI POPUT „SKIN“ I „Statcounter“ mogu uljepšati život...

Nadnevak pon - 15.09.2008 | Komentari > 10

Pozdrav od najbolje dizajnerice Mojbloga i galaksije.

I tako, lijepo je kad netko želi biti ja.

Haha! :D

 

Veseli vidjeti kako dotična blogerica u panici mete tragove i u gluho doba noći mijenja moj Statcounter kod za neki drugi.

Draga moja, znam, istina boli.... neznanje još i više. Uživaj i dalje u svoj ljepoti moga koda. :*

Over and out.

KRAĐA U VLASTITOM DVORIŠTU!!

Nadnevak ned - 14.09.2008 | Komentari > 7

Dogodilo se nešto nečuveno!

Blogerica APsaras napravila je jednu krajnje nemoralnu stvar i ukrala mi dizajn bloga, u koji sam uložila iznimno mnogo vremena i truda.

Bole oči i srce kada ugledah apsolutno jednak blog, jednako organiziran i zamišljen kao moj, uz razliku drukčije odabranih slika na apsolutno istim mjestima.

Kao dugogodišnjoj članici naše Mojblog zajednice nisam ni sanjala da se takva drskost ikada može dogoditi.

Ne mogu vjerovati koliko je daleko išla.

Isti naslov i sidebar: profil, sadržaj i tagboard, čak i isti tip proklete mudre izreke na istom prokletom mjestu, samo s drugim upotrebljenim fontom, a da ni ne spomenem potpis ispod posta s permanentnim linkom, kojem je samo promijenila sličicu na grčku temu. Ma nevjerojatno...

Apsolutno sam frapirana.

Ne mogu vjerovati kako neka pridošlica ima tri čiste u ruku uzeti miš i oteti nečiji kreativan rad! To se u nekim službenijim krugovima zove PLAGIRANJE i posljedice su vrlo ozbiljne.

Stoga apeliram na svijest i savjest dotične blogerice da spomenuti dizajn promijeni jer je na kraju krajeva smisao bloga izražavati svoje, a ne tuđe, odnekud "posuđene" ideje.

Nadam se da se slažemo.

S poštovanjem,

Bambolina

kiss from a rose

Nadnevak uto - 18.04.2006 | Komentari > 0

There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea.
You became the light on the dark side of me.
Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill.
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and
The light that you shine can be seen.
Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
Ooh,
The more I get of you,
Stranger it feels, yeah.
And now that your rose is in bloom.
A light hits the gloom on the grave.
There is so much a man can tell you,
So much he can say.
You remain,
My power, my pleasure, my pain, baby
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny.
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.
Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
Stranger it feels, yeah
Now that your rose is in bloom.
A light hits the gloom on the grave,
I've been kissed by a rose on the grave,
I've been kissed by a rose
I've been kissed by a rose on the grave,
...And if I should fall along the way
I've been kissed by a rose
...been kissed by a rose on the grave.
There is so much a man can tell you,
So much he can say.
You remain
My power, my pleasure, my pain.
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny, yeah
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby.
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.
Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
Stranger it feels, yeah
Now that your rose is in bloom,
A light hits the gloom on the grave.
Yes I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey
Ooh, the more I get of you
Stranger it feels, yeah
And now that your rose is in bloom
A light hits the gloom on the grave
Now that your rose is in bloom,
A light hits the gloom on the grave.

početak

Nadnevak uto - 21.02.2006 | Komentari > 1

Will:
Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll give it a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. So I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some guy from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the only reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the job interviews, which sucks 'cause the schrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorroids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State.

So what do I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.