<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;C04MRHs8eip7ImA9WhRbGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999</id><updated>2012-02-10T21:26:25.572+02:00</updated><category term="magazine" /><category term="fjsc" /><category term="korea" /><category term="goodbye my friend" /><category term="lee junk ki" /><category term="shirin" /><category term="porci" /><category term="petreanu" /><category term="al saman al madani" /><category term="hay" /><category term="junk" /><category term="james blunt" /><category term="blog" /><category term="corea" /><category term="barbati" /><category term="vlad pet" /><category term="fatuca" /><category term="hay magazine" /><category term="break up" /><category term="diana" /><category term="haymagazine.ro" /><category term="corean" /><category term="roman" /><category term="simona vajan" /><category term="lee jun ki" /><category term="jurnalism" /><category term="junki" /><category term="shery" /><category term="aida" /><category term="dragoste" /><category term="ady" /><category term="korean" /><category term="avion" /><title>A Weirdo's Blog</title><subtitle type="html">Pură ficțiune, by Al Saman Al Madani Shirin</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/AWeirdosBlog" /><feedburner:info uri="aweirdosblog" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcFQXkyeCp7ImA9WhRUGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-3499682759499325727</id><published>2012-01-27T15:15:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T15:26:50.790+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-30T15:26:50.790+02:00</app:edited><title>DongHo( a.k.a. X).</title><content type="html">Sa va spun un secret despre mine: niciodata nu ii cer prietenia unei fete fara sa fiu absolut sigur ca nu ma va refuza. Sau cel putin nu am facut-o &amp;nbsp;pana acum.&lt;br /&gt;
Hey, you know what they say, never say never! Oh, God! De cand a spus-o Justin Bieber parca suna din ce in ce mai rau. In fine...&lt;br /&gt;
Astazi mi-am luat inima in dinti si i-am cerut prietenia lui Nermy. Vlad mi-a zis ca in romana asa se zice: "Vrei sa fii prietena mea?"&lt;br /&gt;
Si am dat gres din nou, ca de obicei!&lt;br /&gt;
Mi-a raspuns:&lt;br /&gt;
"O, credeam ca suntem deja prieteni...", parand putin trista ca am intrebat. Stiti cat ii taie elanul unui tip o replica de genul asta?! Imi luase destul de mult sa imi fac curaj sa ii spun asta, insa acum trebuia sa ma pregatesc din nou, sa o lamuresc... Nu facusem asta niciodata, pentru nicio fata. Dar, oricum, Nermy nu e orice fata. O plac mult pe Nermy. E amuzanta si desteapta si draguta. Ii pasa de ce se intampla cu cei din jurul ei. Ii place sa se joace pe calculator. E competitiva si ambitioasa, dar mai ales, ceea ce apreciez cel mai mult la ea e ca e sincera si loiala, intai cu ea insasi, iar apoi cu ceilalti. Niciodata nu incearca sa para altceva decat e si mereu iti spune in fata ce crede. Chiar daca uneori doare...&lt;br /&gt;
"Stii, e bine ca suntem prieteni si iti valorez prietenia. Nu as vrea sa o pierd. Insa tu mereu ai fost sincera cu mine, asa ca astazi eu voi fi sincer cu tine."&lt;br /&gt;
"OK. Ma bucur ca suntem sinceri unul cu altul."&lt;br /&gt;
"Stii, de fapt... Eu te plac. Chiar foarte mult. Si as vrea, daca se poate, sa fim mai mult decat prieteni." Gata! Am spus-o! Sa nu vada ca m-am inrosit, sa nu vada ca m-am inrosit! Oh, te rog, nu te uita la urechile mele! Te rog, te rog, te rog!&lt;br /&gt;
OK, acum m-am calmat. Spune ceva! Orice! Te rog, spune ceva!&lt;br /&gt;
"... Stii... Credeam ca ti-ai dat seama deja ca... Eu... eu il plac pe Jay! Oh, am spus-o! Nu-mi vine sa cred ca am spus-o cu voce tare! Ce jenant!"&lt;br /&gt;
S-a uitat la mine, si parca ma uitam intr-o oglinda. Sentimentele pe care le citeam pe fata ei stiam ca se afla si pe fata mea, desi motivele noastre erau diferite. Jena, tristete, disconfort. Indoiala. Probabil ca Nermy se intreba daca vor mai fi lucrurile la fel intre noi. Cred ca isi dorea asta. Si eu imi doream. Insa ceva inlauntrul meu imi spunea ca lucrurile nu aveau cum sa mai fie la fel. Se parea ca pana la urma nu eram un tip chiar asa de cool...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Au trecut deja doua saptamani de cand nu am mai vorbit cu Nermy. Unii ar zice ca mi-a ranit ego-ul si de-aia nu am ramas amici. Dar eu stiu ca nu e asa. Imi doresc din tot sufletul sa fie totul la fel, dar nu pot. Ma doare sa o vad. Ma doare sa o vad razand cu Jay hyung, imbracata provocator si machiata. Ma doare sa vad cum isi fereste privirea cand ma vede ca ma uit la ea si apoi sa ramana tacuta. Nu stiu ce ii poate trece prin cap in momentele astea, dar cu siguranta eu sunt de vina pentru stanjeneala ei.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;In ultimele zile, lucrurile au devenit si mai rele. Vlad mi-a spus ca a vorbit cu Nermy despre mine, dar ca nu imi poate spune ce i-a zis. Chiar asa de rau stau lucrurile?! Oare o doare si pe ea cand ma vede? O deranjez asa de tare? Durerea mea o pot suporta, insa ei nu vreau sa ii fac rau.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Asa ca m-am hotarat sa plec. Deja am gasit un liceu bun cu profil de muzica in Coreea si am aranjat pentru un &amp;nbsp;loc. Insa nu renunt! O sa ma intorc cand termin liceul, ca un barbat mai cool si mai matur. Sper...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-3499682759499325727?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lrg0j7V72zwN00NQXNtijdtDlpg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lrg0j7V72zwN00NQXNtijdtDlpg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lrg0j7V72zwN00NQXNtijdtDlpg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lrg0j7V72zwN00NQXNtijdtDlpg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/2lLK-fVQzZg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/3499682759499325727/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2012/01/dongho-aka-x.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/3499682759499325727?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/3499682759499325727?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/2lLK-fVQzZg/dongho-aka-x.html" title="DongHo( a.k.a. X)." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2012/01/dongho-aka-x.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcHQ3cyfyp7ImA9WhRUGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-205936834526256913</id><published>2012-01-27T14:14:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T15:27:12.997+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-30T15:27:12.997+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="al saman al madani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="diana" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blog" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee junk ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="avion" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay magazine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="barbati" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shery" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="break up" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="simona vajan" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jurnalism" /><title>Un vis ciudat.</title><content type="html">A fost prima noapte cand am visat ca zbor. In visul meu, se facea ca in mijlocul iernii(desi nu era zapada), alor mei le trecuse prin cap "incredibila" idee de a face curatenie generala. Sau poate se intamplase ceva neprevazut... nu imi amintesc prea bine partea asta a visului. Cert e ca eram in curtea casei mele, stand pe o saltea si asteptand sa pot intra inapoi. Mai era si februarie, o luna in care intotdeauna am fost foarte ocupata, cu multe teme si proiecte de predat la sfarsit de semestru...&lt;br /&gt;
Chiar acolo, la mine in curte, un caine imi tot dadea tarcoale. Era un caine maro si mare si desi nu latra, parea periculos. Nu imi amintesc daca am fost surprinsa sau nu, dar atunci cand cainele a sarit pe mine si a vrut sa imi smulga capul de pe umeri, nimeni nu m-a luat in seama. Si in momentele alea de disperare cumplita, m-am uitat in sus. Atunci l-am vazut! Iar in momentul in care l-am vazut, s-a intamplat ceva la care chiar nu ma asteptam: am inceput sa zbor. De fapt, mai degraba sa plutesc llin in aer, cu tot cu saltea, inaltandu-ma spre el - spre... Mos Craciun!&lt;br /&gt;
"Ah, cred ca visez!" mi-am zis. Am inceput sa ma frec la ochi, sa-l vad mai bine pe Mosu', pentru ca mi se parea ceva ciudat la el. Mosul... se barbierise?! In timp ce zburam spre el, Mosul a inceput sa pluteasca, la fel ca mine, iar salteaua mea, parca avand propria ei vointa, il urmarea. Nu stiu cat timp a durat toata aventura; ceea ce stiu e ca intr-un final am ajuns intr-o sala de teatru, pe scena, unde era o masa frumos aranjata, cu lumanari si crengute de brad, si vasc, si decoratii de Craciun, si zapada artificiala. Cand am ajuns, Mos Craciun statea cu spatele la mine, scotand ceva din sac.&lt;br /&gt;
Mai inainte chiar sa il vad la fata, l-am mirosit. Nu cred ca as fi putut sa nu recunosc vreodata mirosul proaspat de ienupar, chiparos si mosc care imi facea pielea de gaina. Cand s-a intors spre mine, arata mai bine decat aratase vreodata: arata ca un barbat adevarat. Pana si cearcanele pe care le avea il faceau sa para mai masculin si nu ii luau cu nimic din farmec. Totusi, ma faceau sa ma intreb: de ce nu a dormit barbatul asta azi-noapte?! Simteam un amestec de ingrijorare si usoara gelozie - gelozie pe femeia care ii rapise somnul. Cand a deschis cutia pe care o scosese din sac, am vazut intai o usoara sclipire. Era un inel. Un inel exact asa cum imi dorisem intotdeauna: In loc de o piatra mare si orbitoare, avea doua pietricele mici, doua flori de mina care, dupa cum aratau, crescusera impreuna in intunericul pesterii. Si totusi straluceau. Subtil, ce-i drept, dar foarte frumos. Apoi, intr-un moment de contemplare, m-am intrebat daca nu cumva femeia care ii rapise somnul eram... chiar eu. I-am zambit barbatului de care ma indragostisem si... m-am trezit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Trebuia sa povestesc cuiva visul ciudat pe care il avusesem. Excluzand detaliile jenante, le-am povestit prietenelor mele cele mai bune visul meu.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Poate zapada asta e de vina," mi-a spus Tanya, usor amuzata de cata importanta ii dau visului astuia.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;E adevarat ca Craciunul asta fusese cam ciudat. De ani de zile nu mai avusesem sarbatori de iarna atat de uscate si de mohorate. Fara niciun pic de zapada, Craciunul trecuse de parca nici nu fusese aici.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Sau poate," replica Diana, care mai mult ca oricine dadea importanta fiecarui vis, "poate ca are o semnificatie mai serioasa. Nu totul e ceea ce pare, Tanya! Oare cand vei invata asta?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Sper ca niciodata..." murmura Tanya in spatele Dianei.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Te-am auzit! Si in plus, ganditi-va bine! Poate chiar inseamna ceva. Mai ales ca Shery..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Hm? Ce e cu mine?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Nimic! Diana tocmai vroia sa zica... ca tie iti place mult Craciunul! Trebuie sa fi fost tare frustrant sa &amp;nbsp;mananci cozonac, sa canti colinde si sa primesti cadouri, fara zapada, nu-i asa? Poate de-aia ai avut un vis asa de ciudat."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Mda... poate aveti dreptate. Dar de ce tocmai CHINA?! Nici macar nu il sufar!!! Mai ales de cand mi-a citit povestea fara permisiune! Nici nu am mai vorbit de atunci... Hmpf!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Si totusi, visul asta nu era tot ceea ce era ciudat la mine. In afara de vise, uneori, fara sa dorm, fara sa fiu macar obosita sau sa inchid ochii, percepeam franturi de imagini si sunete pe care nu imi aminteam sa le fi vazut sau auzit vreodata. Si in cele mai multe din ele... aparea Junk!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-205936834526256913?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rdD7gfOw_388SK9ArvGe9mOIunM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rdD7gfOw_388SK9ArvGe9mOIunM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rdD7gfOw_388SK9ArvGe9mOIunM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rdD7gfOw_388SK9ArvGe9mOIunM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/uuX0J0jLPME" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/205936834526256913/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2012/01/un-vis-ciudat.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/205936834526256913?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/205936834526256913?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/uuX0J0jLPME/un-vis-ciudat.html" title="Un vis ciudat." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2012/01/un-vis-ciudat.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcDR3k8eCp7ImA9WhdVE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-799271900218080074</id><published>2011-09-18T14:07:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T14:07:56.770+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-18T14:07:56.770+03:00</app:edited><title>Junk.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Ca in fiecare zi, m-am dus din nou sa o vizitez pe Shery. Cred ca e a zecea oara de cand s-a trezit cand ma duc sa o vad. In fiecare zi ii duc un cadou simbolic, care sa ii aminteasca de relatia noastra. Si in fiecare zi ea imi multumeste rece, fara sa para macar ca isi aminteste de ceva. Nu ma intelegeti gresit: chiar daca ar fi sa ramana asa, eu tot as iubi-o. Insa ceea ce imi doresc eu cel mai mult e sa o vad bine. Stiu ca nu are cum sa mai fie aceeasi Shery pe care am cunoscut-o, chiar daca si-ar recapata memoria. A trecut prin multe, cu siguranta ceva, inlauntrul ei, s-a schimbat. Si daca nu ma mai iubeste, o voi recuceri!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Jay imi spune mereu: "Lee Jun Ki! Ori esti ipocrit, ori esti prost! Nu te mai recunosc!" si intr-un fel inteleg de ce. In parte, chiar are dreptate. Nu sunt chior, vad si eu ca m-am schimbat! Uneori e frustrant - desi nu regret nimic - ca omul care sunt acum incalca toate principiile in care credeam. "Viata trebuie traita, nu irosita!" obisnuiam sa spun in perioada adolescentei. Eu si Jay ne simteam ca niste zei. Chiar dinainte sa devenim staruri, ne lasam amprenta pe unde treceam. Nu am fost mereu dragut si binevoitor cu toata lumea. Ba eram chiar arogant si indiferent. Imi amintesc cum intr-o zi, o fata draguta, dar cam plinuta a venit la mine cu o scrisoare de dragoste. Cred ca eram cam prin clasa a IX-a...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Oppa..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Atat a apucat sa spuna. Poate ca nici n-as fi bagat-o in seama, dar cum Jay se tot uita la mine facand pe mascariciul din spatele ei am luat scrisoarea si am citit-o cu voce tare in fata intregului liceu. Am regretat pe loc ca am facut asta si din nou cand am aflat, peste vreo 2 luni, ca&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;de fapt&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jay nu se scalambaia din rautate, ci pentru ca el chiar o placea pe Tae Hee, caci asa se numea fata aceea. Mi-a parut rau pentru el, insa doar pentru vreo 2 minute, pana mi-a spus ca ii era rusine sa iasa cu ea, pentru ca era grasa. Apoi i-am dat doi pumni.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Cu timpul eu am crescut, m-am mai schimbat. Shery m-a facut sa ma schimb. Ea chiar era o fata speciala. Imi amintesc ca pe vremea cand eram doar amici imi aplica destul de des "corectii" cand o luam pe aratura: un bobarnac in cap, o palma pe dupa ceafa, un pumn sau un cot in stomac aplicat "subtil". In timpul asta s-a maturizat si Shery, a invatat sa isi sustina puncul de vedere fara asa-zisele lovituri "din dragoste". Acum ne iubim altfel. &lt;strike&gt;(Nu pot sa va zic cum.)&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Altfel au stat lucrurile cu Jay. El a ramas acelasi, iar eu inca mai astept sa apara si pentru el acel cineva care sa il schimbe. Stiu ca nu e baiat rau, caci e loial si amabil si talentat. Astept insa ziua cand nu va mai fi atat de arogant si de indiferent. Poate candva va reusi si el sa isi arate sentimentele, nu sa le ascunda.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Astazi a fost cea mai fericita zi din viata mea. Cand am intrat in salon, am vazut-o pe Shery facand ceea ce ii placea ei cel mai mult sa faca inainte de accident: scriind. Si ca de obicei, ma asteptam sa fiu primul care citeste ce a scris ea. Dar chiar daca Shery isi revine, noi inca nu suntem ca inainte.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Apoi, mi-a facut o alta surpriza: a coborat din pat, singura si a mers! Shery isi revenea... Am vrut sa verific ceva... Am vrut sa vad povestea pe care o scria. Am vrut sa vad daca era povestea pe care o stiam. Vroiam sa vad daca isi aminteste de Honki, de romanul ei, de visul ei.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Insa ce am vazut acolo m-a surprins si mai mult! Povestea... povestea ei... era adevarata! Era povestea noastra! Isi amintea! Si tocmai cand radeam de fericire, Shery a intrat in camera.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-799271900218080074?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kpkyRIlOoeK8RthqRLYKvzSpTDs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kpkyRIlOoeK8RthqRLYKvzSpTDs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kpkyRIlOoeK8RthqRLYKvzSpTDs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kpkyRIlOoeK8RthqRLYKvzSpTDs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/RDjhP6QnvT8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/799271900218080074/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/09/junk.html#comment-form" title="4 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/799271900218080074?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/799271900218080074?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/RDjhP6QnvT8/junk.html" title="Junk." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/09/junk.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQEQHc7eCp7ImA9WhZaFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-7315539558370297009</id><published>2011-06-30T14:49:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T22:31:41.900+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-30T22:31:41.900+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="al saman al madani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blog" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee junk ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="roman" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="avion" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay magazine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dragoste" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee jun ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shery" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="break up" /><title>Povestea.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Pentru prima data de la accident, azi m-am dat jos din pat. M-am dat jos pentru ca aveam nevoie de o foaie si un pix. Visasem ceva frumos, cam ciudat: o poveste. Stiam ca trebuie sa o pun repede pe hartie, altfel as fi uitat-o. Insa nu numai de-asta. Ceva in mine imi spunea ca trebuie sa scriu. Am asteptat cateva minute ca sa vina cineva sa imi dea foaie si pix, in timp ce rememoram versurile din vis. Cum nimeni nu a catadicsit sa apara, m-am dat jos din pat si le-am luat singura. Cand m-am urcat inapoi in pat, mi-am dat seama ca picioarele mele erau bine si ca puteam sa merg. Cand am realizat asta mi s-a parut ca un vis, asa ca am coborat din nou, ca sa verific daca e adevarat. Apoi am inceput sa scriu povestea din vis. Ceea ce mi s-a parut ciudat a fost ca scrisul imi venea usor, ideile se inlantuiau atat de natural si povestea curgea de parca ar fi scris-o altcineva si eu doar o citeam.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;As fi terminat povestea daca nu ar fi aparut, ca in fiecare zi, tipul ala batran si enervant care imi aduce cadouri. OK, ma bucur sa primesc cadouri, dar am impresia ca se cam da la mine. E un pervers, are cu cel putin 10 ani mai mult ca mine. Adica cel putin asa mi se pare, ca nu l-am intrebat niciodata cati ani are. Ar putea sa-mi fie tata, for goodness' sake!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Ca tot mi-am adus aminte, un alt lucru ciudat la mine este faptul ca vorbesc perfect engleza. Bine, eram fluenta si inainte in engleza, dar acum... nu stiu... parca imi vin cuvintele si mai usor! Poate m-am nascut asa, talentata. Mai mult chiar, inteleg si ce vorbesc chinezii astia. Cred ca pot si sa vorbesc, dar nu am incercat niciodata ca mi-e frica sa nu ma fac de ras.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Ce scrii acolo?" m-a intrebat China(caci asa am hotarat sa ii zic de astazi).&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"O poveste. Dar... nu e gata."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Pot sa o vad?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Hm... nu." i-am raspuns rece si dur. Nu vroiam sa o arat nimanui pana nu era terminata. Cu toate ca nu il prea placeam, mi-a parut rau ca i-am vorbit asa lui China, asa ca am continuat:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Stii... China... nu vreau sa o arat nimanui pana nu e gata."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Putin surprins, s-a uitat la mine si m-a intrebat:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Cum mi-ai spus?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Pai... China. Parca suna mai bine decat Junk. Yuck! De ce ti se zice asa?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Pai tu... Ah! Nu mai conteaza!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Ma duc pana la baie" i-am spus, coborand din pat. Desi nu il sufeream, eram ca o maimutica care vrea sa ii arate stapanului ce trucuri a mai invatat: vroiam sa ma vada cum merg. OK, &amp;nbsp;stergeti partea cu maimutica. Si cu stapanul. Yuck!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Cand m-a vazut ca vreau sa cobor, mi-a intins bratul ca sa ma tin de el, dar l-am dat la o parte si am coborat singura. Totusi nu am putut sa nu ii observ muschii. Cool! Tipul arata chiar bine pentru un adult. M-a vazut uitandu-ma la el, iar eu am rosit. Nu pentru ca il plac, Doamne fereste, ci pur si simplu pentru ca... stiu eu... poate crede el ca il plac. Dar eu nu il plac! Categoric nu! Totusi, mi-am dat seama ca nici nu aveam motive sa il urasc.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;M-am dus la baie, si in timp ce ma uitam in oglinda am hotarat sa ingrop securea razboiului. Tipul asta chiar nu merita sa ma port cu el ca si cum as fi o pustoaica rasfatata.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Cand m-am intors de la baie, mi-am dat seama ca ma pripisem cu iertarea. Nu-mi venea sa cred ca mosul asta imi citea povestea fara permisiune!!!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-7315539558370297009?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/O34narNQ2oQoyBumBYKGH0kzcf8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/O34narNQ2oQoyBumBYKGH0kzcf8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/O34narNQ2oQoyBumBYKGH0kzcf8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/O34narNQ2oQoyBumBYKGH0kzcf8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/3h_9-cIV-AE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/7315539558370297009/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/06/povestea.html#comment-form" title="4 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/7315539558370297009?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/7315539558370297009?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/3h_9-cIV-AE/povestea.html" title="Povestea." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/06/povestea.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUHSXw7eyp7ImA9WhZUEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-5725980669857058468</id><published>2011-06-03T14:57:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T14:57:18.203+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-03T14:57:18.203+03:00</app:edited><title>Junk.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Operatiunea "Cucereste-o pe Shery" a inceput! E o operatiune destul de complexa, avand in vedere faptul ca nu pot sa ii spun nimic despre trecutul nostru. Insa, asa cum am reusit prima data voi reusi si a doua oara! Pana la urma, acum eram avantajat: stiam totul despre Shery. In plus, prietenele ei erau de partea mea. Nu aveam cum sa nu castig!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;M-am certat cu Jay. Stiu ca e cel mai bun prieten al meu, dar e un nesimtit! Dupa ce ca am destule pe cap, ma mai enerveaza si el cu discursurile lui misogine. Mi-a zis:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Eu in locul tau nu as lua-o de la zero pentru nimeni. Dupa ce ca te-ai chinuit deja odata ca sa o cuceresti, trebuie sa faci asta din nou?! Nu te inteleg! Eu in locul tau mi-as gasi alta gagica si mai buna si..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Dar n-a mai apucat sa continue, pentru ca i-am dat un pumn. Apoi i-am urat sa se indragosteasca la nebunie de o fata care nu o sa ii dea nicio atentie. A inceput sa rada, spunand ca asa ceva nu se va intampla niciodata.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Never say never, ma friend!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Desi eram foarte nervos, cand am vazut-o pe Shery mi-a trecut toata supararea. I-am cumparat florile si dulciurile preferate si i le-am oferit. Ma asteptam sa fie surprinsa, sa zica ceva de genul:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Wow! Pentru mine? De unde ai stiut ca sunt preferatele mele?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Ei bine, nu a fost asa. Mi-a multumit, apoi le-a asezat pe noptiera.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Tu... cine esti? Nu ne cunoastem, nu?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Nu cred," am mintit eu. "Sunt prieten cu... cu DongHo... adica X, daca iti amintesti de el. A fost la spital cand te-ai trezit."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Ah, da! Cum sa nu imi amintesc de X? Si... sunteti prieteni buni? Adica, il cunosti bine? Spune-mi cate ceva despre el!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Oh, nu! Se parea ca nu puteam sa plec de langa Shery o clipa, pentru ca atunci cand plecam se adunau toti baietii in jurul ei... Enervanti ca tantarii!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Nici nu mi-am dat seama cand ciocolata pe care inca o mai aveam in mana a devenit praf de cacao...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-5725980669857058468?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ITSYKFanlpYejvG121Uaj5lzqUk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ITSYKFanlpYejvG121Uaj5lzqUk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ITSYKFanlpYejvG121Uaj5lzqUk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ITSYKFanlpYejvG121Uaj5lzqUk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/x0I3--0KEt8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/5725980669857058468/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/06/junk.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/5725980669857058468?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/5725980669857058468?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/x0I3--0KEt8/junk.html" title="Junk." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/06/junk.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEAASH45cCp7ImA9WhZVFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-1611892224416445067</id><published>2011-05-28T13:55:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-28T21:19:09.028+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-28T21:19:09.028+03:00</app:edited><title>DongHo( a.k.a. X).</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Frate! This Vlad dude is obsessed! Nu stiu ce ii veni... Ma tot urmareste, cica vrea sa il invat sa agate fete. And what kind of expression is that, anyway?! Ce, le pescuiesti? Cum adica sa le agati? Il inteleg ca vrea si el o prietena, sau "cauta si nu gaseste", cum zice el, dar totul are o limita.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Vreo doua ore s-a rugat de mine sa il invat "tehnici de cucerire", pana am cedat, si ca sa scap de el i-am promis ca o sa il invat. Cum sa-mi treaca prin cap ca asta o sa ma urmareasca peste tot acum, luandu-si notite despre tot ce fac. Si in plus, nici nu cred ca sunt in masura sa il invat. Adica, OK, am avut parte de destule "flirturi", ca sa le zic asa, dar in momentul asta nu prea mai am incredere in abilitatile mele. Asta pentru ca tipa pe care o plac acum m-a bagat in "the friend zone". Si stim cu totii ca odata bagat acolo nu mai iesi in veci!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;E numai vina lui Shery. OK, stiu ca ar trebui sa am ceva respect pentru bolnavi, dar tot sunt suparat pe ea. Cand o sa isi aminteasca de mine, atunci o sa pot sa ii reprosez lucrurile astea.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;In loc sa ma invete ea romana, like a good noona [noona=sora mai mare, prietena mai mare in coreana], ce s-a gandit ea... Sa ma ajute sa imi fac doi prieteni noi: pe Vlad, asta mic si enervant, si pe Nermy, singura fata care m-a refuzat vreodata. Bine, nu stiu daca a fost un refuz propriu-zis. Eu i-am zis:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Do you want to go out with me?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Si ea mi-a raspuns:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Sure, let's go out, it's hot in here."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Apoi a inceput sa imi spuna cat de bine ii pare ca poate sa isi faca prieteni noi si sa imi explice&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;mie&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;cat de cuuuute e Jay hyung [hyung=frate mai mare, prieten mai mare in coreana]. Dupa care m-a pus sa ii povestesc totul despre el.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Acum daca ma gandesc mai bine, si Vlad e de vina! Dupa ce s-a prezentat, in loc sa ma invete romana cum l-a rugat Shery, m-a lasat pe mainile lui Nermy si s-a dus sa se uite dupa fete prin mall.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Se pare ca Vlad asta nu e totusi asa de rau cum credeam. Astazi mi-a zis ca nu vrea sa faca neaparat rost de o prietena, oarecare. Ii place si lui o fata. Poate totusi nu suntem atat de diferiti precum credeam. Asa ca i-am zis:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Te ajut! But from now on, you'll call me hyung."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-1611892224416445067?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FFJtkGC8GpvGY3CImOptv2wMYP4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FFJtkGC8GpvGY3CImOptv2wMYP4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FFJtkGC8GpvGY3CImOptv2wMYP4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FFJtkGC8GpvGY3CImOptv2wMYP4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/eKdFwISalRY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/1611892224416445067/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/dongho-aka-x.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/1611892224416445067?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/1611892224416445067?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/eKdFwISalRY/dongho-aka-x.html" title="DongHo( a.k.a. X)." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/dongho-aka-x.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8MQH47fyp7ImA9WhZVFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-2609722241211716900</id><published>2011-05-27T22:34:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T22:34:41.007+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-27T22:34:41.007+03:00</app:edited><title>Vlad.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Azi am aflat ca chinezii aia sunt mari vedete pe la ei pe acolo. Wicked! Ei trebuie sa stie totul despre cum se agata fete! Dintre toti cei de acolo, am gasit unul care vorbea romana cat de cat bine si era de varsta mea. Il chema... nu mai stiu exact cum il chema(ca doar stiti ca astia au nume din alea complicate)... Oricum, toata lumea ii zicea X, asa ca l-am strigat si eu tot X.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;M-am dus la magazin, am luat o bere, apoi l-am abordat. Sau "apostat", da' fara bata.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Bem o bere?" i-am zis, cat mai smecher. Pentru favoarea pe care vroiam sa i-o cer trebuia cel putin sa dau impresia ca sunt un tip cool.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Tipul s-a uitat la mine ciudat, iar apoi mi-a raspuns, intr-o romana perfecta(Wow!):&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Am 17 ani. Nu am voie sa beau alcool."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Vrei sa spui ca tipul asta avea succes la fete? Come on, man! (a se citi man, ca in romana) Era un mama's boy!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Am vrut sa fac putin misto de el, insa norocul lui ca tocmai atunci i-a sunat telefonul.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Hello!" a raspuns el, pe un ton moale. Probabil ca era maica-sa, il verifica. "We broke up ages ago, Anne! Get over it! And delete my number, now!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;OK, schimbam abordarea. Tipul asta chiar stia sa se descurce cu fetele. De acum incolo, aveam de gand sa fiu ucenicul lui. Vroiam sa invat tot ce se putea de la el. Vreau gagicaaaaaaaaaaaaa!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Vroiai sa imi ceri ceva?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Da! Cum ti-ai dat seama?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Come on, man!" (a se citi man, ca in engleza)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Ma inveti sa agat gagici?" am intrebat, ranjind.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-2609722241211716900?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gdmsBzr3tWg_IpCEHbK7DVJxEqY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gdmsBzr3tWg_IpCEHbK7DVJxEqY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gdmsBzr3tWg_IpCEHbK7DVJxEqY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gdmsBzr3tWg_IpCEHbK7DVJxEqY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/pod4Vch7M-4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/2609722241211716900/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/vlad_27.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/2609722241211716900?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/2609722241211716900?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/pod4Vch7M-4/vlad_27.html" title="Vlad." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/vlad_27.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QGQXs8eSp7ImA9WhZVFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-6888474266981893885</id><published>2011-05-27T14:22:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T14:22:00.571+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-27T14:22:00.571+03:00</app:edited><title>Junk.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Thank you, God! Iti multumesc ca ai salvat-o pe Shery! Doamne, desi nu isi aminteste de mine, promit solemn sa fiu mereu langa ea!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Dar Junk, daca o sa ramana asa mereu? Ce facem?" m-a intrebat Tanya ingrijorata. "Nu stiu ce sa fac, ce sa spun... Nu stiu cum sa ma port cu ea... Diana se descurca mult mai bine. Nu stiu cum poate fi atat de... calma."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Tanya... nici mie nu imi place situatia asta. Adica... iti dai seama... as prefera sa ma urasca, decat sa nu ma cunoasca."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Si atunci?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Si atunci... nu avem ce face. O luam de la zero. Adica eu o iau de la zero, ca pe voi macar va recunoaste."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Dar nu inteleg cum de nu-si da seama ca suntem mai mari... Doar m-am schimbat din clasa a IX-a. Atunci eram &lt;b&gt;slaba&lt;/b&gt;!" &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Aaa... Tanya..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Ce?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Stii, esti slaba si acum."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Tu nu ai cum sa stii! Nu ma cunosteai in liceu!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Tanya! Arati foarte bine! Snap out of it!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Iiii, ce sweet esti! Dar ai grija sa nu te auda Shery, ca poate devenim si noi un cuplu." spuse Tanya razand.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Nu e amuzant!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Nu stiu de unde aparuse Diana, dar parea suparata.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Shery ma intreaba intruna de prietenul meu, cum e, daca am avut... stiti voi..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Uuuu..." exclama Tanya zambind pervers.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Daca am avut primul sarut, Tanya!" o mustra Diana pe prietena ei.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Ah, am uitat ca Shery&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;se crede inocenta." rase Tanya.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Si eu uitasem. Sau poate, in mod inconstient, evitasem sa ma gandesc la asta. Dar acum ca adusesera fetele discutia, nu mai puteam sa ma gandesc la altceva. Imi venea greu sa imi imaginez ca cea pe care o iubeam nu isi amintea de cele mai frumoase clipe din viata mea, cele traite cu ea. Nu puteam sa ma pun in locul ei. Cred ca eu daca as fi uitat asta mi-as fi pierdut insusi rostul existentei mele. Dar Shery supravietuise si era din ce in ce mai bine. Uram, de asemenea, ca se uita la alti barbati. Desi nu imi statea in fire, de fiecare data cand aparea un altul in raza vizuala a femeii pe care o iubeam, o dorinta de &amp;nbsp;a-l pedepsi pe nemernic imi curgea prin vene! Vroiam sa il bat, mai mult decat atat, sa ii fac rau oricaruia care i-ar fi castigat afectiunea.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Insa pentru toate acestea exista o solutie: daca Shery nu ma mai iubea, atunci nu-mi ramanea decat... sa o recuceresc!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-6888474266981893885?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pcAbr52qoPTEkt8DStPunKG3sLM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pcAbr52qoPTEkt8DStPunKG3sLM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pcAbr52qoPTEkt8DStPunKG3sLM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pcAbr52qoPTEkt8DStPunKG3sLM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/ecor39bLmiA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/6888474266981893885/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/junk.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/6888474266981893885?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/6888474266981893885?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/ecor39bLmiA/junk.html" title="Junk." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/junk.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MAQ34zcCp7ImA9WhZVE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-6508095112014534077</id><published>2011-05-25T22:50:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T23:30:42.088+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-25T23:30:42.088+03:00</app:edited><title>Vlad.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Si uite asa am ajuns eu sa am prietena. Shery, proaspat trezita din coma, in timp ce toata lumea se uita la ea ingrijorata, ma intreaba rosind (God knows why?!):&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Tu... tu cine esti?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Sunt Vlad. Vlad Pe..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Vlad Petrescu!" ma intrerupe Diana. Uitasem ca doctorul ne spusese sa o lasam sa isi aminteasca singura totul, insa sorumea nu. Si recunoscand privirea din ochii lui Shery(si stiind ca ar fi omorat-o daca si-ar fi recuperat memoria si ar fi aflat ca nu a oprit-o la timp), a adaugat, in timp ce ma lua de mana(Yuck!):&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"El e... e prietenul meu."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Wow! Ai un prieten?" Am observat dezamagirea de pe fata ei, insa doar pentru o clipa, dupa care un zambet sincer a aparut din nou pe fata lui Shery. Era atat de inocenta la 15 ani! Cine ar fi crezut ca fetita asta o sa ajunga o fata... mai mare... dar atat de complicata!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Felicitari, Did!" Apoi, crezand ca noi nu auzim nimic, i-a soptit la ureche:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"N-as fi crezut, dar chiar ai gusturi bune! Well done, Dida!" S-a gandit putin, apoi a zis:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Hey! Dida... da, e o porecla destul de buna pentru tine! De ce nu m-am gandit mai demult la asta?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Toti din salon(adica toti care au inteles ce a spus) au inceput sa rada! Toti cu exceptia lui Junk, care a privit-o pe Shery cu dragoste, asa cum facea de obicei, apoi a zambit ingaduitor si ne-a dat pe toti afara din salon, spunand ca Shery are nevoie de odihna. Da, sigur! Shery avea mai degraba nevoie de cei &lt;strike&gt;cativa&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;mai multi ani pe care ii pierduse!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-6508095112014534077?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QNImWqjc4c1v0OXMzNynM_VId78/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QNImWqjc4c1v0OXMzNynM_VId78/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QNImWqjc4c1v0OXMzNynM_VId78/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QNImWqjc4c1v0OXMzNynM_VId78/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/zOxgCShyjSY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/6508095112014534077/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/vlad_25.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/6508095112014534077?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/6508095112014534077?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/zOxgCShyjSY/vlad_25.html" title="Vlad." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/vlad_25.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak4NRnw-cSp7ImA9WhZWGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-4811983201705396372</id><published>2011-05-19T18:29:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T18:29:57.259+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-19T18:29:57.259+03:00</app:edited><title>Diana.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Am o veste buna si una proasta. pe care o vreti prima?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Ei bine, daca nu va hotarati, aleg eu: aia buna, ca sa incepem optimist: Shery e bine. Sau ma rog... cat de bine se poate in conditiile de fata. Dar cu ce ne ajuta pesimismul?! A iesit din coma de doua zile. De cand s-a trezit, nu se opreste din vorbit. Mananca normal, sau daca e sa fiu sincera, mai bine decat in mod normal &lt;strike&gt;(Doar e o "adolescenta" de 15 ani, nu? E in crestere...)&lt;/strike&gt;. Nu, nu asta era vestea proasta. In momentul de fata, faptul ca se crede de 15 ani este cea mai mica dintre problemele mele. Problema mea e ca s-a indragostit! Si ar fi bine daca, uitand de problemele cu Junk, sa se fi indragostit din nou de el! Dar lui Shery, cea de 15 ani, nu ii plac barbatii de 23 de ani. Oh, nu! Normal ca nu! Cand eram in generala, lui Shery ii placeau numai tipii de aceeasi varsta cu ea, sau mai mici cu un an. Niciodata nu s-ar fi uitat la un tip mai mare. Din fericire, cand am ajuns la liceu, a inceput sa ii vada si pe cei cu pana la 2 ani mai mari decat ea. Insa 23 de ani?! 8 ani diferenta? Trebuia sa recunosc ca era cam mult.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Acum imaginati-va camera lui Shery cand s-a trezit. Ii avem asa: pe Junk, Mir, Key, X, Jay, Vlad, toti adunati in jurul patului ei, intreband-o, fiecare pe limba lui, cum se simte. Orice fata de 15 ani s-ar simti flatata! Si dintre atatia baieti superbi, frumuseti asiatice, ea a facut cea mai proasta alegere posibila: l-a ales pe cel care a intrebat-o primul, pe cel care s-a asezat pe patul ei si i-a zis:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Shery, esti bine?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Il urasc pe frati-mio! Vlad, o sa te omor intr-o zi!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-4811983201705396372?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OWE6q_IQ_KHqkUuPEQSrO2u3yNo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OWE6q_IQ_KHqkUuPEQSrO2u3yNo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OWE6q_IQ_KHqkUuPEQSrO2u3yNo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OWE6q_IQ_KHqkUuPEQSrO2u3yNo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/q7H8MZtlgWg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/4811983201705396372/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/diana.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/4811983201705396372?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/4811983201705396372?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/q7H8MZtlgWg/diana.html" title="Diana." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/diana.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMAQXk_eCp7ImA9WhZWFUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-3276764229692536770</id><published>2011-05-17T00:13:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T00:14:00.740+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-17T00:14:00.740+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="al saman al madani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="diana" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vlad pet" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="haymagazine.ro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="roman" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay magazine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="petreanu" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dragoste" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee jun ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="magazine" /><title>Vlad. (pe principiul: Baietii vorbesc putin, mai ales la 15 ani.)</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Va mai amintiti de fratii telecomanda? Da, da, aia cu "Caut o prietena si nu gasesc! Toate fetele sa apeleze la mine!". Ei bine, cam asa sunt eu: Vlad Petreanu. 15 ani. Frumos. Destept. Sportiv. Dar singuuuuur, atat de singuuur. Chiar nu stiu care e problema mea. Sorumea si cu prietenele ei imi spun ca sunt prea mic. Nu-i adevarat! Sunt atatia tipi de varsta mea care au la gagici de nu le fac fata. Eu de ce nu am?! De fapt, s-ar putea sa stiu care e problema...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Acum doua luni, dupa lungi insistente, am convins-o pe Shery sa imi faca si mie rost de o prietena, asa ca mi-a prezentat o fata. Era o colega de-a lui Nermy. Mi-a placut de ea, la prima vedere, ce sa zic. Arata OK, nu era pitipoanca, thank God, spre deosebire de majoritatea fetelor pe care le cunosc. Dar nu stiu... parca ceva nu a mers. Oi fi eu prea pretentios? Hm, nu cred... Ele nu sunt suficient de bune! Da, e vina lor!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;In fine, nu prea se cade sa vorbesc eu acum de fete, cu Shery in... starea in care e. Ce-i mai rau e ca, cu toata &amp;nbsp;harababura asta, m-am procopsit si cu o prietena. In momentul asta as fi fericit daca ar fi vorba de oricine altcineva! Fie ea si pitzi! Cine s-ar fi gandit la o situatie atat de absurda?!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-3276764229692536770?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0TdcGthruhVqyiDoT0Yf4sFJWNg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0TdcGthruhVqyiDoT0Yf4sFJWNg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0TdcGthruhVqyiDoT0Yf4sFJWNg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0TdcGthruhVqyiDoT0Yf4sFJWNg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/tbYtujCJNkk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/3276764229692536770/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/vlad.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/3276764229692536770?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/3276764229692536770?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/tbYtujCJNkk/vlad.html" title="Vlad. (pe principiul: Baietii vorbesc putin, mai ales la 15 ani.)" /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/vlad.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQCR3o_eCp7ImA9WhZWFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-7689027742178911512</id><published>2011-05-15T03:12:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T03:12:46.440+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-15T03:12:46.440+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="al saman al madani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blog" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dragoste" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee junk ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee jun ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="haymagazine.ro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ady" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay magazine" /><title>15 ani.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;Ma cheama Shery si am 15 ani. Sunt boboaca la liceul Zinca Golescu, unul dintre cele mai bune licee din Pitesti, impreuna cu prietenele mele cele mai bune, Tanya si Diana. Sunt intr-una dintre cele mai frumoase perioade a vietii mele, cu colegi loiali, prietene adevarate si intr-o relatie fericita. Ady este prima mea iubire, cel cu care visez sa ma casatoresc. Nu suntem de mult timp impreuna, desi il plac de mult timp. Nici nu as fi crezut ca s-ar fi uitat vreodata la mine. Sunt atatea fete mai frumoase decat mine! Eu sunt scunda, creata si port ochelari.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;Mi-e dor de el... Sunt inchisa in spitalul asta groaznic! Urasc sa stau inchisa in casa, sau oriunde altundeva... Vreau sa ies pe-afara cu prietenii mei, cu Andy si Diana si Tanya. Vreau in parc!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;Astazi au venit sa ma viziteze o multime de oameni. Pe unii ii cunosteam, adica pe Diana si Tanya, dar pe restul nu. Erau o groaza de chinezi la mine in salon. Chinezii nu stiau romana, dar vorbeau cu mine in engleza. Ma intrebau cum ma simt, daca imi amintesc ceva... Normal ca imi aminteam, doar nu eram proasta! Imi aminteam tot ce facusem la scoala, ba chiar stiam si alte lucruri, pe care le citisem singura. Eram cea mai buna la engleza de la mine din clasa, dar chinezii astia vorbeau cu un accent ciudat si uneori foloseau cuvinte pe care eu nu le cunosteam, cum ar fi "betrothed", sau cum s-o scrie. Am presupus ca are legatura cu reciclarea, pentru ca imi spusesera:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;"Do you remember Junk's betrothed?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;Intre toti chinezii, era unul care se uita cam urat la mine. Era mereu asa... incruntat... El vorbea romana cel mai bine dintre toti. Cand am intrebat-o pe Diana unde e Ady, parca ii venea sa imi dea cu ceva in cap. Poate pentru ca nu aveam voie sa ma vad cu iubitul la spital, zic eu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;La un moment dat, Diana m-a luat deoparte si mi-a zis ca Ady m-a inselat. Nu imi venea sa cred! Insa cum Diana era cea mai buna prietena a mea, stiam ca nu avea de ce sa ma minta. In mod ciudat, tradarea lui Ady nu ma durea asa de tare. Nu stiu, parca nu mai tineam atat de mult la el. Poate pentru ca nu ne pupaseram niciodata. O relatie nu e oficiala pana cei doi nu se pupa, nu?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;Poate veti zice ca sunt... "usoara", dar sa stiti ca nu sunt! Ei bine, adevarul e ca din camera asta, cineva imi atrasese privirea. Un... un baiat. Era asa de frumos! Se pare ca ma cunostea, pentru ca la un moment dat se asezase pe patul meu si imi zisese:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;"Shery, esti bine?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-7689027742178911512?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F-CXp76qVm5XeA1UlGI2nGmtHdw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F-CXp76qVm5XeA1UlGI2nGmtHdw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F-CXp76qVm5XeA1UlGI2nGmtHdw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F-CXp76qVm5XeA1UlGI2nGmtHdw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/oOjhYGsOKcc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/7689027742178911512/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/15-ani.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/7689027742178911512?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/7689027742178911512?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/oOjhYGsOKcc/15-ani.html" title="15 ani." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/15-ani.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EERnY5eCp7ImA9WhZWE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-2743454722316115273</id><published>2011-05-06T12:15:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T16:26:47.820+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-14T16:26:47.820+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="al saman al madani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blog" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee junk ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="haymagazine.ro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay magazine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dragoste" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="barbati" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shery" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="break up" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><title>Senzatia ca am uitat ceva important...</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;Ma durea capul ingrozitor. Poate ca daca m-ar fi intrebat cineva cum ma simt, i-as fi zis ca ma simt de parca nu imi mai incape creierul in cutia craniana. Eraa insuportabila durerea! Partea buna era ca nu imi mai simteam celelalte parti ale corpului, pentru ca dupa cum aratau, probabil ca trebuiau sa doara si mai rau! De fapt, era putin suspicios ca nu imi simteam corpul. Eram paralizata? Oh, Doamne! Picioarele mele! Gatul! Mainile! Cand am incercat sa le misc, m-am calmat. Desi nu le simteam, raspundeau comenzilor. Poate eram doar amortita. Nu imi aminteam prea bine cum ajunsesem aici, sau de ce eram pe un pat de spital, cu tot felul de tuburi si aparate conectate la corpul meu. Ultimele lucruri pe care mi le aminteam erau luminile puternice si strigatele prietenelor mele. Cam atat. Ah, da! Si senzatia. Simtisem ca am murit. Vazusem lumina. Eram moarta? Asa te simti cand mori? Dar... credeam ca dupa ce ai murit nu te mai doare nimic. In niciun caz nu citisem nicaieri ca esti amortit sau ca te doare capul. Bine, nici nu cunoscusem pe nimeni care sa fi murit si apoi sa se intoarca sa imi povesteasca, dar... oricum... fusesera studii pe tema asta mii! Si in plus, unde era raiul? Sau... poate ajunsesem in iad... Dar de ce? Poate nu fusesem o sfanta, dar cu siguranta nu fusesem atat de rea incat sa ajung in iad. Stiam eu ca ar fi trebuit sa fac mai multe fapte bune!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;"S-a trezit! Shht, sa nu o speriem!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;"Cum e, e bine?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;"Ia vezi, piuie aparatul ala?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;"Is she OK?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;"I think so... but she'n not saying anything..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;"That's weird! For her, I mean, 'cause she used to have a lot to say. Maybe she's mute now?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;"Shut up! She just woke up!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;Cata agitatie! La inceput nu stiam ce sa spun, apoi, cand mi-am gasit cuvintele, imi era greu sa deschid gura. Am inceput sa mormai cateva cuvinte pentru inceput.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;"Di... Ta... un...e... Ner..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;"Vrei sa stii unde e Nermy?" m-a intrebat Diana.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;Am incercat sa incuviintez din cap, dar gatul imi era prins in ceva, asa ca doar am clipit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;"Am trimis-o acasa sa se odihneasca. A stat toata noaptea cu tine. De fapt, sta cu tine de zile intregi. I-am zis sa vina maine, oricum nu are ce sa faca aici. Tu cum esti, te simti bine?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;Vroiam sa le raspund "asa si-asa", insa miscarea asta era prea greu de facut, asa ca am clipit din nou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;De-abia cand ochii mei au inceput sa se obisnuiasca cu lumina din camera, mi-am dat seama ca aici era ceva in neregula. Oare cat timp dormisem? (in cazul in care asta facusem)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;Cel mai aproape de mine erau Tanya si Diana, prietenele mele cele mai bune, insa nu aratau la fel. Erau... schimbate. Parca mai dezvoltate. De cand purta Tanya pantofi cu toc? Si ce era cu rujul ala rosu pe buzele Dianei?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;Aici se intampla cu siguranta ceva ciudat...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-2743454722316115273?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Q_gPRUcXXTeIpZk632tuthFOzek/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Q_gPRUcXXTeIpZk632tuthFOzek/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Q_gPRUcXXTeIpZk632tuthFOzek/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Q_gPRUcXXTeIpZk632tuthFOzek/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/8qO8nyJhBi4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/2743454722316115273/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/ma-durea-capul-ingrozitor.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/2743454722316115273?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/2743454722316115273?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/8qO8nyJhBi4/ma-durea-capul-ingrozitor.html" title="Senzatia ca am uitat ceva important..." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><georss:featurename>Piteşti, România</georss:featurename><georss:point>44.8605556 24.8677778</georss:point><georss:box>44.821868099999996 24.7989738 44.8992431 24.9365818</georss:box><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/05/ma-durea-capul-ingrozitor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcBRHw4eCp7ImA9WhZWE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-1973177353633210564</id><published>2011-04-07T15:50:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T16:34:15.230+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-14T16:34:15.230+03:00</app:edited><title>O mica paranteza...</title><content type="html">&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"&gt;Stiu ca va doriti ca povestea sa mearga mai departe, credeti-ma, si eu imi doresc asta, insa in ultimul timp am fost ocupata cu facultatea si cu un nou proiect(despre care o sa aflati mai multe in curand), asa ca am scris ma rar. Ca sa nu mai fie nevoie sa intrati mereu ca sa vedeti daca a mai aparut ceva, va propun sa va abonati la blogul meu(butonul din dreapta: &lt;i&gt;Urmariti*&lt;/i&gt;). Astfel, atunci cand apare ceva nou veti fi anuntati prin e-mail.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"&gt;Va multumesc ca (ma) cititi!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"&gt;*acesta este Butonul!&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fU-3ligLT9w/TZ21ObPd0UI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Vju8ENTo8IM/s1600/buton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fU-3ligLT9w/TZ21ObPd0UI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Vju8ENTo8IM/s1600/buton.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-1973177353633210564?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tdNRz3BFbv-JyWMuABUwbi9doYQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tdNRz3BFbv-JyWMuABUwbi9doYQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tdNRz3BFbv-JyWMuABUwbi9doYQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tdNRz3BFbv-JyWMuABUwbi9doYQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/vLYKAKItTWY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/1973177353633210564/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/04/o-mica-paranteza.html#comment-form" title="3 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/1973177353633210564?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/1973177353633210564?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/vLYKAKItTWY/o-mica-paranteza.html" title="O mica paranteza..." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fU-3ligLT9w/TZ21ObPd0UI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Vju8ENTo8IM/s72-c/buton.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/04/o-mica-paranteza.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIDQX06fCp7ImA9WhZWE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-918670909945370594</id><published>2011-04-01T00:00:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T16:42:50.314+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-14T16:42:50.314+03:00</app:edited><title>THE END! (April Fools' Day Trick! -&gt; nu e sfarsitul!)</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;Plecam la mare! Ne-am hotarat sa plecam cu totii, sa sarbatorim ca mi-am luat carnetul. Nu sunt multi care vor sa mearga in masina mea, doar cativa pe care i-am obligat: Nermy, Dida si Tzotz. Simona si-a luat propria masina, dar l-a lasat pe Mir sa o conduca. Probabil ca sa mai "insumeze niste puncte", pentru ca uraste sa stea pe locul din dreapta soferului! Diana, Andra si Vlad (obligat de Dida) sunt in masina cu ei. Jay a inchiriat o masina si a spus ca ne prinde din urma, pentru ca mai are ceva treaba.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;Pe la jumatatea drumului, Jay ne-a prins din urma. Conducea o decapotabila rosie cu doua locuri, iar in dreapta lui era Junk. Arata mai bine decat imi aminteam eu. Sa tot fi fost vreo doua luni de cand nu ne mai vazuseram. Credeam ca uitasem, credeam ca il iertasem, insa cand i-am intalnit privirea, primul impuls a fost sa accelerez. Jay m-a urmat, a trecut pe cealalta banda si mi-a facut semn sa deschid geamul. Normal ca nu l-am deschis, doar de ei fugeam. Desi nu am coborat geamul, baietii imi tot faceau semne disperate. Dida si Tzotz strigau ceva in spatele meu, insa nu le auzeam... Sangele imi pompa in urechi. Ma uitam la Junk, iar el ma privea cu groaza. Cand mi-am desprins privirea de la Junk si am privit inainte, am vazut o lumina puternica si apoi negru. Am simtit cum masina e tarata in sens opus. Ma asteptam sa simt o durere puternica. Stiam ca am dat cu capul de ceva si simteam ca un lichid cald mi se prelinge pe frunte, asa ca imi imaginam ca sunt ranita. Dupa cateva minute... sau ore... am simtit cum sunt trasa din masina si asezata pe jos. Cineva langa mine tremura si plangea. Durerea pe care o asteptasem pana atunci aparuse. Acum regretam ca ma gandisem la ea. Am vazut din nou o lumina puternica, asemanatoare cu prima, dar atat de diferita! Era calda, atragatoare, irezistibila chiar! L-am strans de mana pe cel de langa mine ca sa ma lase sa plec! Trebuia neaparat sa alerg in lumina aceea! Simteam asta! Dupa cateva momente, lumina a disparut, iar eu am putut sa vad din nou ce se intampla in jurul meu. Stiam ca nu pot pleca asa! Fusesem prea egoista! Ce se intamplase cu Nermy? Dar Dida, sau Tzotz? Cand am deschis ochii, i-am vazut pe toti aplecati deasupra mea. Erau si Nermy si fetele mele. Am oftat cu usurare. Cand mi-am simtit pieptul usurat, parca si ochii s-au eliberat de intuneric si am putut sa vad din nou lumina spre care trebuia sa alerg cu disperare!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-918670909945370594?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_8I4ibaPEXMk3U0bg1c2JoFdld8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_8I4ibaPEXMk3U0bg1c2JoFdld8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_8I4ibaPEXMk3U0bg1c2JoFdld8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_8I4ibaPEXMk3U0bg1c2JoFdld8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/Deb83TFn1aY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/918670909945370594/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/04/end.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/918670909945370594?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/918670909945370594?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/Deb83TFn1aY/end.html" title="THE END! (April Fools' Day Trick! -&gt; nu e sfarsitul!)" /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/04/end.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEHQHw8fip7ImA9WhZWE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-7780104580539795463</id><published>2011-03-22T14:39:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T16:43:51.276+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-14T16:43:51.276+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="al saman al madani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee junk ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="haymagazine.ro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="roman" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="goodbye my friend" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay magazine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="james blunt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dragoste" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee jun ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shery" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jurnalism" /><title>La cumparaturi cu sora mea.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Chiar nu stiu de ce erau baietii atat de misteriosi, insa din fericire nu avea nicio legatura cu cel-al-carui-nume-nu-il-voi-rosti. Nu astazi, cel putin. Sper sa ma tin de cuvant pana la sfarsitul zilei. Stiti cum e atunci cand nu trebuie sa spui ceva si exact aia iti sta pe varful limbii de fiecare data cand deschizi gura? Cam asa eram eu acum. Cum vedeam o camasa draguta in mall ziceam:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;"Lui Ju...ay i-ar sta tare bine in asta. Ce zici?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Sau:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;"Ce pantofi faini, nu-i asa J...Mir?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Regretam faptul ca fusesem de atatea ori la cumparaturi cu "respectivul" in trecut. De asemenea, cred ca si baietii incercau sa-mi joace feste. Vroiau sa manance junk food, sa vedem filmul "Junkyard Dog" si sa isi cumpere jocul "Dungeon Runners Junk".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Cand ne-am intalnit cu Nermy, deja vazuseram cateva magazine. X se cam plictisise, iar eu am dedus ca nu se simtea in largul lui pentru ca eram cu totii mai mari decat el, asa ca m-am gandit sa ii aduc un prieten de varsta lui. Prima persoana la care m-am gandit a fost Vlad, fratele Dianei, care avea aproape 16 ani si era un tip tare haios si prietenos. Cred ca i s-a parut si Dianei o idee buna, pentru ca l-a sunat si l-a intrebat daca vrea sa il cunoasca pe X, despre care ii povestise multe lucruri cand se intorsese din Corea. Se pare ca doar gandul ca o sa aiba un prieten cu care sa vorbeasca l-a binedispus pe X, pentru ca atunci cand Nermy a spus: "Let's go to Terranova!", desi fusesem deja acolo, iar baietii nu intrasera pentru ca era magazin cu haine de fete, i-a raspuns: "I'm coming too! D'ya need some help picking?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Nermy s-a uitat la el, l-a studiat din cap pana in picioare, a decis ca stilul lui vestimentar e acceptabil si ia zis:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;"Hm... OK, sure!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;Vlad a ajuns destul de repede, pentru ca venea de la scoala si era aproape. I-am facut cunostinta cu X. Comunicarea era OK, Vlad si Nermy nu stiau engleza foarte bine, dar se descurcau. Le-am dat o misiune: sa il invete pe X romana.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Inainte sa vina in Romania, baietii isi cumparasera un ghid de conversatie Englez-Roman, asa ca incepusera sa invete deja fraze uzuale. Erau haiosi uneori, cand incercau sa spuna o fraza mai grea si se incurcau. Le-am spus:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;"You should use korean pronounciation, it is more similar to ours than the american one."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Insa cum coreenii nu pot sa pronunte doua consoane succesive in aceeasi silaba, unele cuvinte sunau cam ciudat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Dintre toti, X a invatat romana cel mai repede. Dupa 2-3 saptamani de cand venisera in Romania, deja putea sa se duca la cumparaturi singur, sa intrebe cum poate sa ajunga in centru, sau in alte locuri. Ba chiar stia cateva cantece in romana.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Nu mi-am dat seama cat de populari au fost cei de la O-zone, pana cand nu l-am auzit pe Jay fredonand intr-o zi melodia de la "Dragostea din tei", in timp ce isi facea curat in camera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;"Hey! You know O-zone?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;"What's that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;"The song you're singing... It's a romanian song."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;"Oh, you mean the original version is romanian? Interesting... this used to be Junk's favourite a while ago..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Oh, great! Sperasem sa nu aud numele asta prea curand...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Nu imi era dor de el... nu... eram doar... vroiam... trebuia sa isi ceara scuze! Asa era normal! Nu spusese nimic de atunci! Binenteles ca nu l-as fi iertat, dar meritam sa isi ceara scuze!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-7780104580539795463?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AyUYfT4VP6EQ5aioEz-aK8P9T7k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AyUYfT4VP6EQ5aioEz-aK8P9T7k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AyUYfT4VP6EQ5aioEz-aK8P9T7k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AyUYfT4VP6EQ5aioEz-aK8P9T7k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/ngn7S-C7Zx0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/7780104580539795463/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/03/chiar-nu-stiu-de-ce-erau-baietii-atat.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/7780104580539795463?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/7780104580539795463?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/ngn7S-C7Zx0/chiar-nu-stiu-de-ce-erau-baietii-atat.html" title="La cumparaturi cu sora mea." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/03/chiar-nu-stiu-de-ce-erau-baietii-atat.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkENQX89eip7ImA9WhZWE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-5301857498660104479</id><published>2011-03-12T19:00:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T16:44:50.162+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-14T16:44:50.162+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="al saman al madani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blog" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee junk ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="haymagazine.ro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="roman" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="avion" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay magazine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="barbati" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee jun ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shery" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="simona vajan" /><title>Multiculturalism.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;In fata mea se aflau, in toata splendoarea lor de muzicieni celebri asaltati de fane inebunite - membrii trupei Fly Together, cu chitarele in spate si 4 bagaje, toate carate de cel mai mic din trupa, maknae, cum i se zice in coreana, X. Era totusi norocos ca in trupa erau numai baieti si nu fete, altfel cu siguranta ca ar fi carat pe putin 8 bagaje.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Chajatta!" imi spuse Jay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Toti ma priveau. Prima data m-am uitat dupa Junk. Din obisnuinta probabil, cu siguranta NU imi era dor de el! Se pare ca fostul meu prieten era inca in Corea. In orice caz, nu era cu ei. Key parea plictisit, afisa o expresie cool, care imi spunea: "I was dragged here..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Mir parea fericit ca isi va face prieteni noi, fiindca tot se uita in spatele meu, in camera. X gafaia de la efortul de a cara 4 bagaje(dintre care doar unul ii apartinea) pe scari, pana la etajul 2. Jay imi zambea cuceritor, nu ca sa ma cucereasca, ci pentru ca vroia ceva. Poate vroia sa isi ceara scuze pentru sora lui. Sau poate vroia sa ma convinga sa i-l las ei pe Junk. Oh, nu! Imaginatia bogata poate fi binecuvantare, dar si blestem. Uram sa mi-i imaginez pe Junk si pe Hee Jin impreuna. Am incercat sa ma detasez, sa le spun ceva.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"So... You were the ones causing all that ruckus in the hallway?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"We were looking for you! We thought you'd&amp;nbsp;recognize our awesome voices."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Well, I can recognize your awful personalities..." le-am spus in gluma, zambind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"I'm not trying to be rude but... what are you doing here? Why are you here?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Well, our manager Hyung said we should 'expand our horizons'. That's what we're doing. And we sure have expanded it, by going to the end of the world... We need your help!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"What... Why?" am intrebat, in timp ce imi ziceam: "Doamne, sa nu fie ce cred eu..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Well... first of all, we need a place to stay, but the man at the entrance doesn't understand a word we're saying. He kept telling us: Pelecati! What does that mean?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Oh... it means 'go away'. You see, there aren't any rooms here. You have to fill in a form when the year starts and then, maybe, if you're lucky, you'll get one."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Oh, shit! It's all X's fault!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Hey! Why is it my fault?" a intrebat X revoltat. "You wanted to see where Junk Hyung is living!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"And you wanted to see N... ouch!" a spus Jay cand valiza lui i-a aterizat pe picior.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you!" s-a scuzat dulce si nevinovat X.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Well... come on in, and we'll think of something." le-am spus baietilor, facandu-le loc sa treaca.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Le-am facut cunostinta cu Andra si Diana, apoi i-am servit cu cate un castron de cereale.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Jay si Mir, cu sarmul lor irezistibil, dar diferit, s-au facut destul de repede comozi si s-au imprietenit cu fetele.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Cand Tanya a iesit afara scuzandu-se si spunand ca trebuie sa dea un telefon, m-am pregatit sa mai pregatesc un castron cu cereale. Se parea ca urma sa avem inca un musafir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Simona a ajuns cam in 20 de minute, insa sunt sigura ca nu drumul i-a luat cel mai mult timp, ci aranjatul. Arata impecabil, ca intotdeauna.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Inainte ca sa ajunga Simona, Tanya ii instruise deja pe baieti, spunandu-le:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"It's a romanian custom to kiss someone on both cheeks when you greet them. It's very rude if you don't do it!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"I love romanian customs!" a spus Jay, zambind. "I promise next time I'll greet you with a kiss."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Cand a intrat Simona, Mir, fericit ca poate pune in practica ce a invatat, s-a dus sa o pupe. Jay si X la fel. Cand baietii l-au indemnat si pe Key sa faca la fel, el s-a uitat la Tanya si a spus:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"I don't trust you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Eu am zambit aprobator la Key, insa el inchisese ochii. Era si normal sa fie obosit. De fapt cred ca toti erau obositi. Cum Tanya si Dida locuiau singure in camera, ne-am hotarat sa ne inghesuim toate 5 in cele 4 paturi din camera mea si sa le lasam provizoriu baietilor cealalta camera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;In timp ce baietii se pregateau sa se mute in camera lor, am primit un apel:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Da, Nermy! Mergem la shopping? OK. Poate vin cu fetele. Bine, te pup!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Was that Nermy?" a intrebat X.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Yeah, she wants to hang out. Oh, but you must be really tired..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Not at all!" a spus Jay, de data asta. "I heard something about shopping... We really need some stuff, like... toothpaste and... underwear... Can we come along?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Well... sure, if you want to."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;"Great!" spuse Simona entuziasmata si timida in acelasi timp, stand la 2 metri de Mir insa aruncandu-i ocheade flirtoase(nici nu stiu daca asta e cuvant) de la distanta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;Mie, totusi, ceva imi mirosea ciudat... Si nu ma refer la sosetele murdare pe care le ascunsesem sub pat inainte sa intre baietii. Speram doar sa nu aiba legatura cu Junk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-5301857498660104479?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/M7TZ13yEHVuJrtXSDl_LTscvvp8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/M7TZ13yEHVuJrtXSDl_LTscvvp8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/M7TZ13yEHVuJrtXSDl_LTscvvp8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/M7TZ13yEHVuJrtXSDl_LTscvvp8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/8KLlFXQlOJQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/5301857498660104479/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/03/multiculturalism.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/5301857498660104479?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/5301857498660104479?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/8KLlFXQlOJQ/multiculturalism.html" title="Multiculturalism." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/03/multiculturalism.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0EMSX06fCp7ImA9WhZWE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-5512552536453992462</id><published>2011-03-11T19:42:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T17:01:28.314+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-14T17:01:28.314+03:00</app:edited><title>Vecinii.</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font: normal normal normal 13px/19px Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0.6em; padding-left: 0.6em; padding-right: 0.6em; padding-top: 0.6em;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;Trecuse deja o luna de cand ma intorsesem din Corea si se parea ca toate lucrurile isi reluau incetul cu incetul ritmul monoton. Facultate, teme, invatat, 2-3 mese pe zi, iesiri cu prietenii, ba chiar incercam sa imi gasesc ceva de munca. Nu prea imi lasam niciun minut liber ca sa ma gandesc. Ca niciodata, programul meu era planificat la secunda. Binenteles ca nu eram perfecta, mai existau timpi morti pe ici pe colo. La inceput durea. De fiecare data cand aveam o clipa libera ma gandeam la dubla tradare.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;In urma cu doua saptamani, fetele mele(si prin sintagma "fetele mele" ma voi referi, de acum incolo, la Tanya si Diana) imi facusera o surpriza: se mutasera in camera libera de langa a mea.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Ne-am mutat ca sa fim mai aproape de facultate." mi-au spus in seara in care m-am trezit cu ele la usa, tinand in maini 3 pizze si o sticla de suc si strigand vesele: "Suntem noile voastre vecine! Sper sa ne-ntelegem bine!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;Binenteles ca nu le-am crezut. Stiam ca se mutasera pentru ca isi faceau griji pentru mine si le eram foarte recunoscatoare pentru asta. Uram singuratatea si prietenele mele stiau asta.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;Fetele mele le placeau pe Andra si Diana. Cele doua Diane facusera chiar un pact, ca sa nu le incurcam: Diana - my old friend - se alesese cu porecla Dida, in timp ce noua colega de camera isi putea folosi in continuare nestingherita numele.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;Andra, fiind o fata foarte sociabila si comunicativa, a inceput sa ne vorbeasca despre ce filme a mai vazut ea in ultima vreme. Si credeti-ma, erau destule! Daca nu ar fi avut un talent de povestitor uimitor, probabil ca ne-ar fi obosit cu cele 5 filme pe care ni le povestise de la cap la coada cu de-amanuntul. Insa pentru ca avea darul de a te atrage in poveste si a te face sa razi din orice, ne pastrase treaz interesul pana spre sfarsit, cand am adormit toate pe covor. Sau ma rog, poate numai eu adormisem. Cert e ca atunci cand m-am trezit, toate dormeau ca niste bebelusi.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;M-am trezit prima, am pregatit cereale cu lapte pentru fete si am dat drumul usor la muzica. Curand, rand pe rand au inceput sa deschida cate un ochi, intai Diana, apoi Andra si in cele din urma Dida si Tanya.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;Am luat micul dejun impreuna, spunand glume si barfind, cum nu mai facusem demult.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;Nu mai zambisem de saptamani bune, iar acum ma dureau obrajii de atata ras.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;La un moment dat, am auzit o melodie care mi se parea cunoscuta de pe hol, insa m-am hotarat sa nu ii dau atentie. Pana la urma in camin mereu erau "petrecareti" care ascultau muzica tare inca de la primele ore ale diminetii(mai rar, dar se intampla). Dar atunci cand a inceput sa se auda din ce in ce mai aproape de usa noastra, Diana, care tocmai incerca sa ne povesteasca ceva amuzant si era intrerupta mereu de cantecul de pe hol, a scos capul pe usa sa vada cine sunt "colocatarii" nostri.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;A deschis usa cu forta, vrand sa strige la ei, insa fara sa zica nimic a inchis-o repede la loc. Parea un pic intimidata, asa ca am iesit eu, insa cand am deschis usa am ramas si mai surprinsa ca Diana!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-5512552536453992462?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vuXoqglwFkuVajTtnWg6jRZ5Hw8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vuXoqglwFkuVajTtnWg6jRZ5Hw8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vuXoqglwFkuVajTtnWg6jRZ5Hw8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vuXoqglwFkuVajTtnWg6jRZ5Hw8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/DfrQWtjrikg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/5512552536453992462/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/03/vecinii.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/5512552536453992462?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/5512552536453992462?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/DfrQWtjrikg/vecinii.html" title="Vecinii." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/03/vecinii.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ABQnc_eCp7ImA9WhZWE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-6166419535034242543</id><published>2011-03-08T11:22:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T17:02:33.940+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-14T17:02:33.940+03:00</app:edited><title>Aida.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;Inainte ca avionul sa decoleze, stewardesa ne-a spus:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;"Va rog sa va inchideti telefoanele mobile!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;Pana atunci ma uitasem din 5 in 5 minute la ecranul telefonului, insa nu primisem nimic. Inainte sa il inchid, am verificat din nou. De data asta clipea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;"Safe flight!" a fost mesajul care mi-a aparut pe ecran la o apasare de buton.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;Era modul lui Shery de a-mi spune ca ma iertase...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-6166419535034242543?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kmRzAB1cJqePkJRhpsPmvBPdTFU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kmRzAB1cJqePkJRhpsPmvBPdTFU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kmRzAB1cJqePkJRhpsPmvBPdTFU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kmRzAB1cJqePkJRhpsPmvBPdTFU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/T1Fy6kPtj4g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/6166419535034242543/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/03/aida.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/6166419535034242543?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/6166419535034242543?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/T1Fy6kPtj4g/aida.html" title="Aida." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/03/aida.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEHSX87cCp7ImA9Wx9aE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-6903552927258997039</id><published>2011-03-05T23:58:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T02:50:38.108+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-06T02:50:38.108+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="james blunt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="al saman al madani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dragoste" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shery" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="roman" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="goodbye my friend" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><title>I'm so hollow!</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Cand s-a intors Aida, jocul se incheiase si fetele dormeau. Eu plangeam din nou, asta era a doua seara in care plangeam si speram sa fie si ultima. M-am prefacut ca dorm, sperand ca Aida sa nu ma auda cand imi sterg nasul pe fata de perna. Din fericire nu m-a auzit. Sau poate ca era prea obosita, pentru ca in momentul in care s-a asezat in pat i-am auzit respiratia greoaie. Imi placea sa o aud pe Aida dormind. Ma linistea sa stiu ca e cineva cu mine in camera, cu atat mai mult cu cat era cineva care ma iubea. Ma simteam in siguranta, protejata. Stiam ca daca mi se facea rau avea cine sa aiba grija de mine. De data asta raul meu nu era de natura fizica, insa nu conta. Aida era aici sa ma vindece. Cu gandul asta in minte, nici nu mi-am dat seama cand am adormit.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Cand m-am trezit, Aida era deja la masa, bandu-si cafeaua de dimineata. Parea cumva pusa pe ganduri in timp ce sorbea din licoarea calda si se uita pe fereastra.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Buna dimi...aaata!" i-am spus in timp ce cascam.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Ah, te-ai trezit?" m-a intrebat ea, un pic nedumerita, de parca de-abia o adusesem cu picioarele pe pamant.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"S-a intamplat ceva?" am intrebat, iar apoi am completat: "Nu vesti proaste azi, te rog!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Nu sunt vesti proaste. De fapt, sunt bune. Da, da! Chiar foarte bune..." imi spunea ea. Insa expresia ei nu prevedea nimic bun. Nu imi placea ingrijorarea de pe fata ei.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Am castigat un... premiu. Da, sa ii zicem asa: premiu!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Nu-mi spune ca..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Crede-ma, premiul asta nu e ceva ce ti-ai putea imagina. Nici macar tu!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Ei bine, zi-mi odata!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Mai stii romanul ala pe care il scriam eu, cu Robert si..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Normal ca stiu, doar era genial! Lasa detaliile si treci la subiect!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Ei bine... George s-a gandit sa imi faca o surpriza si l-a trimis la... Un concurs. Si... Am castigat. Premiul cel mare."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Nu imi spune ca e o excursie intr-un loc exotic!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Ai ghicit... In parte. E o calatorie, dar nu e o excursie intr-un loc exotic. E... Ceva mai mare de atat. Am castigat o bursa in America la cea mai tare facultate de literatura si scenografie. Pentru toti cei 3 ani de studiu."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;O galeata cu gheata imi aterizase in stomac. Stiu, sunt egoista. Poate mai mult decat egoista. La nivel rational stiam ca trebuia sa ma bucur pentru ea. Dar eu? Pe mine cui ma lasa?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Evitand sa imi exteriorizez gandurile, am intrebat:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Si George?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"S-a gandit la tot dinainte sa trimita romanul. Vine cu mine si o sa isi continue studiile acolo."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Si eu? Si eu? Si eu? Cuvintele astea aveau ecou in capul meu. Ma durea capul. Mi-era greata. Se pare ca totusi nu dormisem asa de bine azi noapte.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Shery... Te cunosc prea bine. Tot astept sa explodezi si nu o faci. Si mi-e mai teama. As prefera sa reactionezi asa cum o faci tu in mod normal. Chiar daca asta implica o cearta."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Ti se pare normal sa nu ma bucur pentru prietena mea cea mai buna? Sa ma gandesc numai la mine? Pe mine cui ma lasa, chiar nu ii pasa? De ce tocmai acum? Asta e ceea ce imi trece acum prin cap!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Aida nu a mai spus nimic. Stia ca nu era nimic din ceea ce mi-ar fi putut reprosa sa nu imi fi reprosat eu singura mai inainte. Sau poate ca avea mustrari de constiinta.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Can... Cand pleci?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Maine..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Desi stiam ca gresesc, i-am spus rece, in timp ce ieseam pe usa:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Sa nu te astepti sa te conduc la aeroport!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-6903552927258997039?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y2hwayiVUeLYOZ96GpgOsIDKlGs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y2hwayiVUeLYOZ96GpgOsIDKlGs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y2hwayiVUeLYOZ96GpgOsIDKlGs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y2hwayiVUeLYOZ96GpgOsIDKlGs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/l0cE4H45uE8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/6903552927258997039/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/03/im-so-hollow.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/6903552927258997039?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/6903552927258997039?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/l0cE4H45uE8/im-so-hollow.html" title="I'm so hollow!" /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/03/im-so-hollow.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4GQHk_fyp7ImA9WhRSFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-3914939463383877964</id><published>2011-02-28T18:07:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T02:42:01.747+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-18T02:42:01.747+02:00</app:edited><title>Aida vs. Andra&amp;Diana</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Get out! Now!" spuse Aida, autoritar. Sau cel putin, ar fi vrut sa sune autoritar. Cu accentul Aidei, ordinul suna mai degraba amuzant decat amenintator. Fetele erau intr-un fel puse in incurcatura. Nu stiau daca sa rada sau sa se supere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;Intr-un final, si-au dat seama ca era cazul sa ne lase putin singure, asa ca au iesit din camera, cu scuza ca se duc sa cumpere suc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Cine sunt pitipoancele?" intreba Aida, calma, dar usor deranjata de "invadatori".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Noile noastre colege de camera. Si nu sunt pitipoance, sunt chiar OK. Poate daca le-ai cunoaste mai bine..." i-am spus Aidei privind-o cum se stramba.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"In fine, nu asta e important acum. Ce-ai de gand sa faci cu Junk?" imi spuse prietena mea ingrijorata.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Nu cunosc niciun Junk."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Come on, inteleg ca esti ranita, dar nu ma lua &lt;b&gt;pe mine &lt;/b&gt;cu faze de genul: nu-mi pasa, care Junk sau treaba lui. Sunt prietena ta cea mai buna, asa ca..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Ai venit singura?" am spus, intrerupand-o din cicaleala.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Nu, au venit si fetele."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Aha..." am spus eu, usor dezamagita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"El nu a venit." mi-a spus Aida, parca citindu-mi gandurile. "A mai ramas putin sa se duca sa isi vada pa..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Nu ma intereseaza." am spus rece.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;Tacerea dintre noi doua era prea apasatoare, asa ca m-am decis sa o rup. In definitiv, nu eram suparata pe Aida. Ce vina avea ea ca eu sufeream?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Nu il suni pe George? Cred ca ti-a fost tare dor de el..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Bine ca mi-ai amintit, ma asteapta jos. A venit sa ma ia de la aeroport. Dar poate nu ar trebui sa plec..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Sunt OK. Du-te si distreaza-te!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;Aida ezita, insa pana la urma, pentru ca eu nu eram singura, a decis sa plece.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Sa le spui piti... fetelor sa nu se atinga de patul meu! Sa le ia pe cele de sus, daca vor." mi-a spus Aida, in timp ce eu ma uitam urat la ea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Stai linistita, o sa le spun."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;Pe cand Aida iesea pe usa, am spus:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Aida..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Da?" a raspuns ea, pregatita sa se intoarca daca am nevoie de ea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"O sa iti placa de fete."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;"Hm... Da, sigur!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-3914939463383877964?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JUQzX8EcWt52N7eUvv6PeD4yeEY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JUQzX8EcWt52N7eUvv6PeD4yeEY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JUQzX8EcWt52N7eUvv6PeD4yeEY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JUQzX8EcWt52N7eUvv6PeD4yeEY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/XbNrn5oA5HM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/3914939463383877964/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/02/aida-vs-andra.html#comment-form" title="7 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/3914939463383877964?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/3914939463383877964?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/XbNrn5oA5HM/aida-vs-andra.html" title="Aida vs. Andra&amp;Diana" /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/02/aida-vs-andra.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEMQHc8cCp7ImA9Wx9aEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-6642672314944000004</id><published>2011-02-26T20:24:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T23:08:01.978+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-01T23:08:01.978+02:00</app:edited><title>Andra si Diana.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Cele doua fete peste care dadusem pe coridor se aflau acum in camera mea, desfacandu-si bagajele. Se numeau Andra si Diana si urmau sa fie colegele mele de an. Desi nu imi convenea sa am colege noi de camera (in fond, mie si Aidei ne placea sa stam singure), eram in minoritate, asa ca aveam de gand sa tac malc pana venea Aida. Da, era un plan bun. Ea sigur stia cum sa le ia pe fetele astea.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Am inceput sa mananc, nu cum mananc eu de obicei, ci frumos, asa cum ma invatase mama ca se face in fata musafirilor. Crontaneam lent cate un cartof prajit, gandindu-ma la durerea mea. Fetele se uitau ciudat la mine in timp ce isi aranjau hainele in dulapuri, de parca ar fi asteptat sa le servesc din cartofii mei, nu neaparat pentru ca le era pofta, ci pentru ca asa era politicos. Detestam genul asta de oameni, care pun pret pe aparente. Eu m-am facut ca ma uit pe geam, ca sa nu le vad cum se uita una la alta si isi dau ochii peste cap. Am vazut ciresul din curtea caminului si mi-am amintit de Junk. Primul lui cadou pentru mine fusese o ramura inflorita de cires. Spunea ca mi se potriveste, pentru ca ii port numele. Ciresului, la el ma refer. Of, nu vroiam sa ma gandesc la Junk. De fapt, nu sunt sigura ca ciresul era de vina. Probabil si daca as fi vazut un porumbel mi-as fi amintit de data cand imi stersese Junk parul razand, pentru ca un porumbel facuse caca in capul meu.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Am incercat sa imi maschez o lacrima, prefacandu-ma ca sunt somnoroasa si casc. Insa in momentul cand lacrimile au inceput sa mi se rostogoleasca una dupa alta pe obraji, mi-am dat seama ca nu mai aveam unde sa ma ascund, asa ca le-am lasat sa curga in voie. Ma asteptam ca noile mele colege de camera sa se uite ciudat la mine si sa isi vada de treaba mai departe, insa nu a fost asa. Le judecasem gresit. Andra, pentru ca era mai blanda si mai prietenoasa, a venit imediat si m-a luat de dupa umeri, consolandu-ma. Cand i-am povestit ce s-a intamplat, m-a privit cu lacrimi in ochi si m-a strans in brate. Era pentru prima data cand cineva plangea pentru mine.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Diana, avand un alt fel de personalitate, fiind ceva mai rece si mai putin "pupacioasa", nu stia cum sa reactioneze, asa ca m-a intrebat daca vreau un ceai si a inceput sa imi pregateasca imediat unul, fara sa astepte raspunsul meu. Mi-a pregatit un ceai din fructe proaspete, facut de ea, nu cumparat. A fost cel mai delicios ceai pe care l-am gustat vreodata. Se vedea ca pusese suflet. Acum ma simteam inteleasa si protejata.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Imi placeau noile colege de camera, chiar daca prima impresie pe care mi-o facusera nu fusese dintre cele mai bune. Se parea ca desi pierdusem un iubit, castigasem in schimb doua prietene noi. Dupa ce m-am oprit din plans, ne-am hotarat sa jucam un joc ca sa ne cunoastem mai bine. Ne-am jucat Monopoly. In timp ce ne jucam, am aflat ca si Andra se afla intr-un moment mai dificil: se despartise de prietenul ei pentru ca nu credea ca o relatie la distanta ar fi durat, acum ca se mutase, insa acum ii parea rau. Poate de-asta ne si intelegeam una pe cealalta, pentru ca treceam prin aceeasi situatie... sort of.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Ma duc pana la baie..." le-am spus, in timp ce ma ridicam de pe podea.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"OK, pana te intorci tu noi reasezam cartile."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Sa nu imi furati din bani!" le-am spus amenintator, in timp ce intram pe usa.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;In timp ce ma spalam pe maini, am auzit o voce care le spunea dur celor doua fete:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Afara!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-6642672314944000004?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8hE4l_KiM5fsnujnRZpwYAdRBN4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8hE4l_KiM5fsnujnRZpwYAdRBN4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8hE4l_KiM5fsnujnRZpwYAdRBN4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8hE4l_KiM5fsnujnRZpwYAdRBN4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/SN2rTMJZ_tY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/6642672314944000004/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/02/andra-si-diana.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/6642672314944000004?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/6642672314944000004?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/SN2rTMJZ_tY/andra-si-diana.html" title="Andra si Diana." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/02/andra-si-diana.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMBRnk6fip7ImA9Wx9UFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-3077805520947242285</id><published>2011-02-13T22:53:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T22:54:17.716+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T22:54:17.716+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blog" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dragoste" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee junk ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee jun ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shery" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay magazine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="break up" /><title>Home, sweet home!</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;M-am uitat mai atent la geanta de mana a colegului de scaun, si m-am linistit. Nu era Ady. Il chema Andrew Stewart, de aici si confuzia mea. Si de fapt, nici nu semana asa de bine cu Ady. Daca Tanya ar fi fost cu mine acum, poate mi-ar fi spus ca Ady reprezinta pentru mine imaginea abandonului si ca asta e motivul pentru care il vad in fiecare pasager. Dar nu ar trebui sa il vad pe Junk, acum? "Abandonul initial a fost mai traumatic pentru copila din tine", ar continua prietena mea cea mai buna, etalandu-si talentele de fosta filosoafa, actuala psiholoaga.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Cand am ajuns la destinatie era trecut de pranz si imi era foame. Frigiderul acasa era gol, la fel ca apartamentul, la fel ca mine, la fel ca stomacul meu... Ce poeta sunt! M-am hotarat sa iau masa in oras. Singura. Uram sa mananc singura, si mai ales in oras. Dar cum toate prietenele mele erau la jumatate de lume distanta, nu aveam incotro.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;La mec era coada si toate mesele erau ocupate. Mai bine, si asa nu aveam chef sa se zgaiasca toti la mine ca la felu' 25 (de ce numai 16? ce, 16 e mai rotund?!).&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Pe drumul spre casa am intalnit un motanel vagabond. Si era atat de dulce! Era complet gri si foarte mic, nu ii dadusera inca ochii. Ce trist trebuie sa fie sa fii singur pe lume! Era orfan, saracutul! M-am hotarat sa o sun pe mama. Nu o mai facusem demult. Dar in timp ce efectuam apelul, mi-am dat seama ca Nermy nu era cu mine, iar mama s-ar fi crizat sa afle ca plecasem fara ea.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;La intrarea in camin, la avizier erau afisate listele cu studentii care se treansferasera de la alte facultati. Erau si vreo cativa straini cu nume ciudate. Trebuie sa fie greu sa te desparti de colegii tai si sa te muti in alta parte... Fara sa cunosti pe nimeni, fara parintii tai... Am incercat sa imi spun ca sunt si persoane mai dezavantajate ca mine, poate care au mai multe motive sa fie triste. Mda, nu a mers. Tot eu sufeream mai tare. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;M-am indreptat spre camera mea de camin, adancita in gandurile mele si fara sa le observ pe cele doua fete de pe coridor care cautau o camera, asa ca am intrat in ele, daramandu-le cu tot cu bagaje.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Imi cer scuze, nu v-am vazut." Fetele au dat doar din cap si si-au continuat drumul. M-am enervat. Puteau totusi sa raspunda, chiar daca ma injurau, nu sa plece pur si simplu si sa ma ignore. Poate eram eu prea sensibila, insa din perspectiva mea ele gresisera.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Ajunsa acasa (desi locuiam la camin, era placut sa ii spun "acasa"), am lasat bagajele pe masa si am intrat in baie, sa fac un dus. Dupa nici 10 minute, aud cateva batai in usa. Imi iau repede halatul de baie pe mine si deschid.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Ei bine, se parea ca azi nu aveam sa mananc singura. Desi, in momentul de fata, as fi preferat sa o fac.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-3077805520947242285?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Oua5_Zpr9jbs73a3Jh-D191RMUU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Oua5_Zpr9jbs73a3Jh-D191RMUU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Oua5_Zpr9jbs73a3Jh-D191RMUU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Oua5_Zpr9jbs73a3Jh-D191RMUU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/PwRZ4r24onQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/3077805520947242285/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/02/m-am-uitat-mai-atent-la-geanta-de-mana.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/3077805520947242285?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/3077805520947242285?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/PwRZ4r24onQ/m-am-uitat-mai-atent-la-geanta-de-mana.html" title="Home, sweet home!" /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/02/m-am-uitat-mai-atent-la-geanta-de-mana.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcGQno5cCp7ImA9Wx9WFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-260860625000959362</id><published>2011-01-21T17:38:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T21:10:23.428+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-21T21:10:23.428+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="al saman al madani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blog" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee junk ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="roman" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="avion" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dragoste" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="barbati" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shery" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ady" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="porci" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="break up" /><title>The break-up!</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Si uite asa s-a dus "ziua mea grozava"!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Berbeaca pana-n maduva oaselor cum m-a facut mama, binenteles ca m-am suit imediat in primul avion si am plecat inapoi in Romania. Pe drum, am inceput sa ma gandesc. Si nu-mi face deloc bine sportul asta. Poate ar trebui sa ma las. De gandit, la asta ma refer.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Ceva nu se potrivea. Imaginea lui Junk, my Junk, cel in care aveam toata increderea, pentru care as fi bagat mana in foc(si m-as fi ars, din cate mi-am dat seama acum), nimic la Junk nu se potrivea cu felul in care il vedeam acum: tradator prefacut, manipulator, fals, ipocrit, mincinos, cheater(si alte epitete din aceeasi categorie pe care nu le pot scrie aici). Si pe langa toate astea, mai era si prost. Cat de retard sa fii sa le faci cunostinta prietenei si logodnicei tale?! Poate doar daca ai vrea sa te desparti de una dintre ele... Poate ca asta era! Vroia sa se desparta de mine! Stia ca eu nu as accepta niciodata faptul ca m-a mintit si i-as da papucii daca as afla! Javra! Nici macar nu avusese curajul sa faca el primul pas spre despartire! Statusem cu un las pana acum?! Dragostea chiar ca te orbeste!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Nici nu mi-am dat seama cand lacrimi grele au inceput sa mi se prelinga pe fata.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Are you OK?" m-a intrebat stewardesa. Am vrut sa ii raspund, dar nu am putut. M-am multumit sa dau din cap, lasand-o sa se intoarca la treburile ei, probabil cu impresia ca sunt vreo nebuna care are frica de avioane. Sau poate nu i-am lasat nicio impresie, poate are parte de astfel de specimene zilnic. Saraca! acum o compatimesc, si parca lacrimile curg mai cu avant, mai multe si mai repede, parca plang pentru ea. De fapt, nici nu cred ca plang numai pentru mine. E deja prea de tot. Asa e! trebuie sa dau un sens nobil tristetii mele. Nu plang eu pentru gunoiul de Junk. De fapt, eu plang pentru situatie. Da, pentru situatia asta in sine plang eu. Plang pentru toate femeile parasite din lume! Tradate si abandonate de barbati ratati care sunt atat de complexati incat trebuie sa isi dovedeasca odata la cateva luni(in cel mai bun caz) ca inca mai pot "agata" ceva.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Timp de vreo doua ore l-am injurat pe Junk si pe toti barbatii, dupa care m-am decis sa imi schimb orientarea sexuala.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Dupa vreo zece pachete de servetele consumate, urmate de trei pahare de apa si doua aspirine pentru durerea de cap, m-am hotarat sa gasesc ceva care sa imi distraga atentia. Abia atunci l-am observat pe cel de langa mine, care dormea de cand ma urcasem eu in avion. Semana cu cineva cunoscut, dar cu cine? Avea ochi mici si gene lungi, asa cum imi placeau mie, dar nu era corean, sau vreo alta natie din estul Asiei. Era putin creol, cu parul de lungime medie si ondulat, de statura medie, din cate observam si foarte slab. M-am uitat la geanta de umar pe care o avea cu el.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Oh, shit! Nu &lt;b&gt;semana&lt;/b&gt; cu cineva. &lt;b&gt;Era &lt;/b&gt;cineva. Sau mai degraba era un nimeni. Ce cautase Ady in Corea?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-260860625000959362?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U9z2ZmbJV8427X1BT3lIZhMp0WA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U9z2ZmbJV8427X1BT3lIZhMp0WA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U9z2ZmbJV8427X1BT3lIZhMp0WA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U9z2ZmbJV8427X1BT3lIZhMp0WA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/vPFkY1GJFKA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/260860625000959362/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/01/break-up.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/260860625000959362?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/260860625000959362?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/vPFkY1GJFKA/break-up.html" title="The break-up!" /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/01/break-up.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMGQ349fSp7ImA9Wx9WFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772378500882021999.post-2873298065832595176</id><published>2011-01-20T00:07:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T21:17:02.065+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-21T21:17:02.065+02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="al saman al madani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="haymagazine.ro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hay magazine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fjsc" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="junk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fatuca" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lee jun ki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="aida" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shery" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="corean" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="korea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="simona vajan" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jurnalism" /><title>Simona.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Daca nu era masa asta uriasa intre noi, jur ca o bateam! Fatuca asta rasfatata a indraznit sa spuna ca ea e &lt;b&gt;adevarata&lt;/b&gt; logodnica a lui Junk?! Nu imi venea sa imi cred urechilor!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;La inceput nu am crezut un cuvant, dar de ce se purtau toti atat de suspicios? Nu oi fi eu geniala, dar sunt totusi studenta la Jurnalism. Imi dau seama cand cineva minte, sau vrea sa-mi ascunda adevarul, altfel as fi inutila in profesia asta!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"OK... What's going on? Jay?" am intrebat. Desi engleza mea nu era la fel de buna ca a lui Shery, in niciun caz nu vorbeam la fel de prost ca Aida. Si daca nu ii raneam urechile, de ce se uita Jay asa de ingrozit la mine?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Mir?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Molla! [Nu stiu!] Hey, I know her just a little better than you do."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;De ce nu o cunostea Mir asa de bine?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Why?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Because I joined the band about one month before Jun Ki Sunbae left. Man, the band rocked in the past! Until I came and ruined it!" spuse Mir privind in gol cu ochi de catelus, dar zambind sexy in coltul gurii ca un "mare dulau". Ce sexy era! Baiatul asta va fi al meu!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Ah! Stai! Am deviat de la subiect!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Jay, if you don't tell me what's up with that bi... your sister... I'm gonna rip your..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Calm down! I would've understood your reaction if you were Shery, but you're not, so..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Just tell me already!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"It's an arranged marriage. My parents and Jun Ki's parents want them to get married in order to do business together. When Jun Ki heard about that, he left to Romania, saying that he's gonna marry the one he loves, and not the one his parents want as daughter-in-law."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Se parea ca nu eram prea buna la mima, caci Jay nu intelesese din gesturile mele ca trebuia sa se opreasca din vorbit. Culmea, asa cum se intampla de obicei in viata, vestile rele vin pe neasteptate. Shery isi uitase geanta.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772378500882021999-2873298065832595176?l=unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8xQygrgOl7IAsVbN89lT8_1qBgA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8xQygrgOl7IAsVbN89lT8_1qBgA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8xQygrgOl7IAsVbN89lT8_1qBgA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8xQygrgOl7IAsVbN89lT8_1qBgA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~4/HdxZT6d2x10" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/feeds/2873298065832595176/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/01/simona.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/2873298065832595176?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772378500882021999/posts/default/2873298065832595176?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AWeirdosBlog/~3/HdxZT6d2x10/simona.html" title="Simona." /><author><name>Shery</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00440411879501806005</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="25" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VOUZhQIwJHY/TRpDJySPklI/AAAAAAAAAB8/A8npP8x_St8/S220/me-am-weird-spot.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://unblogcamciudat.blogspot.com/2011/01/simona.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

