Din ciclul povetele batranilor iata ce porumbel a zburatacit din gura bunicii in timp ce ma servea cu ciorba.
Dupa indelungi constatari si observatii, mai ceva ca o agentie specializata de cercetare sociologica, bunica mi-a deschis ochii cu privire la un fenomen colosal: cocosul vecinei nu are boase in timp ce cocosul ei are. Batrana si detinatoare de cocos cu boase, bunica ma povatuieste: ” ia-ti maica barbat cu oua ca unu fara oua nu poate sa faca copii.”. Vorba din batrani: daca ai boase ai parte sau boasele care nu se vad Nu se uita sau cine nu are boase sa isi cumpere isi gasesc aplicabilitatea in spusele bunicii.
Inainte ma punea sa pup icoane si acum imi tine prelegeri despre importanta boaselor la masculi. Boasele ca element esential in fertilitate ma preocupa in timp ce cioflai la ciorba. Curiozitatea rodea ca soarecele la cascaval: unde are cocosul boase? Perseverenta in dorinta de cunostere ma deplasez in ograda cautand ceva cu creasta. Al naibii cotcodacitor plin de pene si de idei preconcepute ca trebuie sa se smuceasca si sa dea din toate aripile ca sa nu il pot prinde, nu numai ca nu mi-a aratat unde ii sunt localizate faimoasele boase da mi-a trantit si o frumusete de aripa peste nas. Semet si vijelios…ok…da….unde-i sunt boasele.
Dezamagita ma intorc la ciorba, poate gasesc printre pipote boasele cocosului.
Aviz amatoarelor devoratoare de masculi fertili: masculul cu boase bine conturate este mai valoros pe piata spermatozoizilor vigurosi. Inainte de a-l lasa sa isi lanseze proiectilul asigurati-va ca are sacii destul de largi.


Vad ca suntem intr-o dispozitie amuzanta astazi, asa ca pentru a fi in randul lumii, am sa merg si eu in aceeasi directie.

V-ati intrebat vreodata cum sa faceti sa fiti subtile atunci cand vreti sa va anuntati iubitul ca sunteti intr-o „perioada delicata”? S-au gandit altele, si iata rezultatele brainstorming-ului:

Miss Scarlett’s Come Home to Tara

Trolling for Vampires

A Dishonorable Discharge from the Uterine Navy

Saddling Old Rusty

Feelin’ Menstru-riffic!

Clean-Up in Aisle One

Massacre at the Y

T-Minus 9 Months and Holding

Game Day for the Crimson Tide

Panty Shields Up, Captain!

Taking Carrie to the Prom

Playing Banjo in Sgt. Zygote’s Ragtime Band

Ordering l’Omelette Rouge

Arts and Crafts Week at Panty Camp

Rebooting the Ovarian Operating System

Aunt Floe is visiting

Reasons I’ll never be a romance heroine

  • I’m a healthy 5’7” , so in order to “just reach his shoulders”, he would have to be at least 6’6” . How many tall guys do you think there are?
  • Because I don’t ask guys for help. Not even when I need it.I’ve learned to reinstall my Windows and repair howsehold appliances, the rest I’ll just wing it
  • Because I like men-sports.
  • If my boss wanted to sleep with me, I’d slap a 100 000$ law suit on his ass.
  • I have a chest, but no one has ever gone speecless from seeing it
  • I actually need a monthly wax, daily scrubing and moisturizer in order to have a smooth skin
  • When I wake up in the morning I don’t look “sexy rumpled”, but with a bad case of bed hair, morning breath, red eyes and a need to visit the bathroom, have a caffeine IV and a smoke
  • I would never say to a man that I’ve just met and brought home “Forget the condom, I want to feel you in me without that latex thing
  • I’d never bring home a man I’ve just met that night, however hot he is
  • If I’d see a 10” “hammer”, I’d run screaming into the night, not “link my lips and spread my legs
  • If I’d try to run from the assassin/rapist/average bad guy, he’d catch up in about 50 meters and drag a fainted me back to his evil lair
  • I’m 24, but I’m not a virgin
  • Even when I was a virgin, I knew exactly what the act entitled, and I dreaded the first few times
  • When presented with a certain view of male anatomy I have never wondered myself or anybody else “What does that do?”,How will it ever fit?” or “How exactly does this work?”
  • The idea of having sex with someone who has slept with dozens of other women is unappealing…like taking a number at the deli counter – „now serving no.46
  • My house does not look “pleasantly lived-in and full of personality”, but rather like “a bomb exploded in downtown Bagdad at rush-hour
  • I curse like a sailor when I’m furious
  • Nobody is ever going to look at me and feel a rush of protective instinct.

Well, the holiday has gone and past, and sice I had some free time on my hands, I’m sorry to inform you that I’ve fallen into the evil clutches of the Romance Novels Evil Masterminds.

In other words, I just read a bunch of books written by women…along the lines of Sandra Brown and Danielle Steel. Yes, I’ve become brain-washed and a romantic fiction addict, deal with it!!!

Which gave me the idea of these lists:


Reasons why romance novels are clearly fiction

  • The 26-year-old virgin is as elusive as the Loch Ness monster
  • 30-year-old billionairs have had 40 years worth of plastic surgery
  • Not all men have 10” “tools”
  • Not all women’s nipples are “small and pink”
  • Women don’t have an orgasm just by tasting their partner’s cum, and men do not say “You taste like peaches, I want to do this forever” when going down on a woman

Mohammed intra in clasa I
– Cum te numesti? intreaba invatatoarea.
– Mohammed…. raspunde copilul.
– Aici suntem in Franta , nu exista Mohammed. De acum inainte numele tau va fi Jean-Francois, ii raspunde invatatoarea.
Seara, ajunge Mohammed acasa.
– Cum a fost prima zi de scoala, Mohammed? il intreba mama.
– Numele meu nu este Mohammed, suntem in Franta, iar numele meu, de acum inainte, este Jean-Francois.
– Aoleu, iti este rusine de numele tau, vrei sa iti faci de ras parintii, mostenirea ta, religia ta?  Sa iti fie rusine Mohammed! dupa care ii trage o mama de bataie.
Apoi mama il cheama pe sotul ei, pentru a-i trage si acesta o mama de bataie.
Merge a doua zi Mohammed la scoala. Cand il vazu invatatoare cu atatea vanatai pe el, il  intreba:
– Ce ai patit micutul meu Jean-Fean-Francois?
– Ei bine, doamna invatatoare, la nici doua ore dupa ce am devenit francez am fost atacat de doi arabi!…

Bula in armata.
– Bula, ce este Patria?
– Nu stiu, d-le.
– Esti prost. Vasile, ce este Patria?
– Patria – e mama mea!
– Ei, Bula, ce este Patria?
– Patria – este mama lui Vasile.
– Idiotule! Patria – e si mama ta, ai inteles?
– Inteles.
– Ce-ai inteles?!
– Sunt frate cu Vasile!!!

10 zile de mare, soare, leneveala pe sezlong, mancat bunatati si somnic de dup-amiaza – cam asa s-ar traduce concediul de anul asta.

Ieri m-am intors in Bucuresti. Deja imi lipsesc toti oamenii aia care se plimbau seara pe faleza cu zambetul pe buze. Azi dimineata pe drumul spre munca m-a socat sa vad cat de imbracati erau toti oamenii… imi e dor de goliciunea de la mare, acolo te simti asa de liber. Cred ca provocarea dupa un concediu la mare nu este sa-ti reintri in ritmul normal de munca, ci sa te reobisnuiesti sa porti haine si sa stai o zi intreaga pe scaun. Am intepenit azi… vroiam sa dau din picioare prin apa 🙂