I like to think of myself as a pleasant young lady, polite, always smiling and eager to help those who ask for help. I smile when I walk down the street and I help old people carry their bags. I even tell people when they lose money while walking. But I think the Universe doesn’t like me. It’s like my whole life is an irony. One day, while drinking its coffee, the Universe thought, while chatting with its multiverse friends, hmmm, I should make an ironic person with an ironic life. And then I was born. With a high level of irony and sarcasm.
But please let me tell you my story… Continue reading
Do you have that really really old relative that comes to your house for Easter, Christmas, everyone’s birthday, and when they want to go shopping? Well, I have one, and a few years ago, he (some great-great-uncle), told me this:
I was 19, and it was June. My family almost had Jesus. I felt obliged to ask for more presents.
I admit it. I smoke. Cigarettes, that is. I’m not proud, I’m not bragging with it and I don’t advise anyone to do it. What I don’t do though is wander around the city and pick on people who smoke.
OK, let me start with the beginning. No, before I start I want you to know that I have A LOT of respect for the elderly. I loved my grandparents and I love seeing wise old people sharing their experience. But I don’t like those who…well, let me start my story…
There I was, sitting peacefully with a friend on a bench in the park. You know, girl-talk and s**t. And yes, we were having some smokes. On the next bench, an elderly person was preaching to bum about beliving in God, about quitting alcohol, about…well, let’s just say he was preaching. Continue reading