Parents, beat your kids!

          "I think I'm going to go insane if I hear George pronounce the word "think" in her unique, incorrect way. I feel as if a long, rusty nail is being hammered into that part of my brain purposed for English coding every time I hear her articulate it. She knows English, no doubt about it, but this word is really the bane of her life. If there was a group on Facebook called, "I wish I could pronounce the word 'think' correctly", I'd suggest it to her. Another short comment; Chain has the stupidest Facebook statuses in the history of Facebook statuses. I mean, seriously. His current one is so stupid that another degree of adjective comparison would have to be invented only to fully conjure up this fail of a Facebook status: "So I cover my little bike with some kinda tarpaulin... without knowing that's my mom's tarpaulin for... I dunno what. And it starts raining and my, I mean, my small old man says: 'You're not takin' care of your bike, it'll get wet', to which I say: 'Well I covered it up...' He then says: 'No, you didn't!', so I go outside and see my little bike all wet and now what... I just move it into the garage... Fuck..." Alecia smacking me with that Oxford dictionary made more sense than this status.

           This Friday, we had a colloquium on Corpus linguistics. Couple of hours prior to it, I arrived to Alecia's apartment. Since I hadn't even touched the materials, my intention was to use those two hours I had at my disposal to the fullest. Also, I needed a good-morning coffee, darker dan night itself, as if scraped from the bottom of the coffee machine; the one that would slap you silly and crush every last ounce of sleep from your eyes - Alecia's coffee. Blair eventually joined us and we started studying together; each in our own way. Blair's idea of studying was forming her cheating papers with scissors to a more adequate size; fits-in-your-bra-size. Alecia's strategy was more honest. She grabbed her materials and began poring through. Ten minutes passed before she realized she had been reading Christian's instructions on how to set up a wireless network instead of her exam papers. Two more passed before she grabbed Blair's scissors and began resizing her own cheating papers. I led a fierce battle with my own materials, struggling hard against composing my traditionally handwritten cheating papers. To a certain extent, I gave in. I decided to write down most of the definitions on a piece of paper and then repeat the theory one more time. After the writing part had been finished, I was alluringly seduced by Alecia's list of top 50 male actors, which made me forget about Corpus linguistics... plus my common sense and sense of decency. 

          To cut a long story short, even though I'm completely retarded and handicapped for such an action, I'm proud to say that I managed to cheat on that exam without twitching and grabbing professor's arm in foul confessions of the materials in my left pocket. I sweated out a puddle while doing so, but I didn't fail. After that, we had English language in contact, a class where time stood still. I cut it short by reading "Alice in Wonderland". Meanwhile, Jane brought us the pair of fingerless gloves we had ordered online for Alecia's birthday. Thank God for Jane. Had it not been for her, we would have probably ended up buying Alecia more booze. The gloves were new and the rubber emitted a strong scent which caused May and me to constantly sniff them in a really loud and sadistic fashion.

           Affirmative drama class was interesting, as always. Before it, I even talked to George in the gazebo. She made couple of animal-related statements which made me hate her little bit less than usual. She talked about her pet cat and her incredible fondness of animals. She also added how she believed her mother when she had told her that all the animals gained a temporary ability to talk on the night before Christmas. Heh. I'd still beat her with a stick, though. Maybe I wouldn't hit as hard. Anyway, we had our class in the gazebo. It was a lovely day. We were discussing a play called "I Remember Mama", which was pretty decent for an affirmative play. It's about a supermom who is so amazing that she keeps all the characters glued together. During that period, we had all been invited to comment. Cassandra was the first one to speak. She claimed that she was emotionally moved by the story and that she cried five times while reading it, to which we just exchanged can-you-believe-such-crap gazes and vomited inside our heads. Most people liked it. Babka didn't and Dwayne Marley remained indifferent, saying that he couldn't feel the story. Alecia subtly added that he couldn't connect to the story because it spoke about love, happiness, honesty and friendship, which he didn't have. Plus the story didn't contain any lying, cheating bastards. I sat across from him and I observed him during those 45 minutes. He seemed strange; flavorless. His skin had acquired some unnatural and unhealthy color, it wasn't just plain pale, but bordering on fungi green. He appeared as if his happiness not only ran out on him, but brought along his enthusiasm and motivation along, then moved to another state in another universe of another dimension. He looked as if he was rotting on the inside. It's a shame. If only Dwayne Marley had left to another dimension and Hans stayed with us. We like Hans. Everybody likes Hans. Dwayne Marley? Not so much."

         

           The four of us all had a different childhood. If I had to pair us up according to methods of child raising our parents applied, I'd have to say that Alecia and I had been raised in a similar manner. May and Blair were the quiet ones who never got spanked with any type of an object, while Alecia's and my mom practically had them all alphabetized and lined up against a wall or in a suitably equipped suitcase. Let me recall couple of such situations. For example, Alecia grew up in a village, so it was only natural for her to try and jump over a disc harrow; an attempt which resulted in stabbing her leg through, along with her new pants. Her mother's reaction was to patch her up and then beat the shit outta her for ruining her new pants. I recall begging my mom once to buy me a new bike and when she did, I drove it straight into the sea. However, I missed the deeper water and crashed against a pile of rocks, peeling off the skin of my forehead. The same procedure followed; she first took me to the hospital to make sure that I didn't have a concussion and then we returned home where she beat me silly till I was convinced I actually had one. I can't say that I blame her. At the time, she was a single mom and I was a rogue child. Alecia was very similar. Their village had obviously, at one point, suffered from a serious deficit of balls, because they played a game similar to dodgeball by using bricks. I was the demon child who crashed the property of our local bishopric in order to steal fruit from their orchard, got caught on a daily bases and then got dragged home to my mother by one of the priests who had been situated there at the time. I was a terrible thief. 

          Alecia's and my mom had so many common statements and policies. For example, when we misbehaved in public, they'd always say: "You just wait till we come home." Often was the case when days would pass and we would spend them by scraping down enough courage to antagonize them and when that rebellious moment finally took place, they would just look at us calmly and state: "I've given you life, I can just as easily take it from you." Oh, and my definite favorite is when I did something really bad and then returned home. My mom would be standing next to an open door to a room, just pointing with her arm, suggesting I got in without further ado. I'd obey, slowly walking in, bent down, wallowing in my own misery, despair, self-pity and fear of what's to come. My mom never immediately followed me inside, but she'd take her sweet time, walking past the window and into the garden (where I could clearly see what she was doing) and straight to the willow. Willow branches were the most effective. During those three minutes, I would thoroughly plan an escape route, ponder running away from home or calling social services and so on... However, all of these ideas were as pointless as yelling a 'fuck you' into a jet engine while speeding towards it on a skateboard because in the end, the only realistic option I had was to face the music.

Have you ever been smacked in the head with an Oxford's dictionary? -Nope, neither have I..

          "May's going to Graz this summer, yay! I'm so happy for her. She and Dwayne Marley both applied for a summer school course this year in Graz and she got accepted! Dwayne Marley didn't. She couldn't figure out she why made it and he didn't. Their grades don't substantially differ, they both got their letters of recommendation from our professors and the only thing they were supposed to compose themselves was an application essay. I read May's; it's amazing. No wonder she got in. I didn't get a chance to read Dwayne Marley's. Maybe it wasn't dripping in such quality as the rest of him. Or maybe that school simply has a policy against admitting pricks.

          Speaking of pricks, we have another gem who studies with us. He's very keen on setting things ablaze. He's a pyromaniac on parole and he cannot leave the state because he had made one small, tiny, negligible mistake of setting a house on fire." That beautiful habit aside, he also has a charming personality. When someone suggested starting our own magazine, his comment was; "I'd rather drink a gallon of turpentine and piss on a forest fire. In addition to these numerous traits, he also looks as if someone had tied him up and thrown him into a river, let him soak there for couple of days and then dragged him out. He's very pale and somewhat bloated. His skin seems inhumanly white; even more so when compared to the lack of color of his attire. I know that black is considered a color, but holy shit, it's not the only one. As if that weren't enough, he also has that little something every witch might find necessary in her line of work - a broom, if she doesn't mind pulling it out of his ass. On top of all this, Blair's madly attracted to him. I suggested adding him on Facebook and then subtly becoming a fan of 'being set on fire'. Once, we had been sending him messages from an unregistered number. Blair got drunk and used up impossibly long 4 hours by speaking about how she would screw him morbidly... or darkly. I cannot recall the exact expression. Either way, EXTREMELY UNSETTLING.

          Back to the point. After May's announcement, we had Andragogy. We acted really unprofessional, YET AGAIN. People were having presentations and seminars while the rest of us observed the butterflies (meaning; "I have a really impressive concentration sp... Ooooh, a butterfly!") around the room. When the class was almost over, our professor expressed her discontent and disappointment in our collegiality. We just nodded and clapped, thus confirming her assumption that absolutely nobody was paying attention to her. Overthrown by general apathy, she just ushered us out of the classroom and to our next class. After that, May and I got together with Blair and Alecia and went back to Alecia's apartment for a cup of coffee.

          On our way there, we started talking about an acquaintance of ours who tickles my interest. You see, back when I had been painfully single, I decided that I needed a crush. I needed extra motivation to go to classes, so it seemed a reasonable solution to choose someone who attended the same classes as I did. I applied an efficient system of elimination. I immediately eliminated the complete department of Philosophy because I didn't think I would be able to sustain such amount of verbal diarrhea on an everyday basis (plus, since I couldn't afford a translator, I probably wouldn't understand 99% of the words coming out of their mouth). Department of Croatian language already suffers from a serious deficit of men (with the exception of one guy, who is the prototype of a chain; stuffed with testosterone, sprinkled with primitivism and lacking tolerance towards everything that clashes with socially accepted standards), so that was a big NO. English and German departments have Dwayne Marley, who is, though appealing to watch, as arousing as a smelly potato sack. This left me with History department, which has as many attractive bachelors as a nunnery (with the exception of Corey, who is my best friend). However, after a careful consideration and evaluation of options (and after crossing out all the pyromaniacs, grave desecrators and people who could star horror villains without any make-up on), I made my decision. There's a guy there, nicknamed Q-Ball. We had all been seduced by his shaved head into believing that it was the reason for that nickname, but we were wrong. Apparently, he had been a very chubby child. The nickname stuck. He's cute in a slightly bizarre way. I like him. I'm even willing to overcome what might seem as irreconcilable differences between us - the fact that his best friend is Babka, the fact that he's an ostentatious asshole and the fact that he has only one eyebrow. Now if that's not effort, I don't know what is."

Resuming on with the diary bits.

          "Fucking Wednesday. Not only are we stupid on Wednesdays, but those are usually the days when at least one of us has a crackpot idea. This Wednesday, after taking an English language practice test (and not knowing what sound sheep and goats produced), May and I went for a beer. The reason why we'd do that at 9AM was the lecture we were supposed to have at noon, held by Handy Man. We agreed that his lectures were unbearable, so we had decided to loosen things up a bit before going to college. Of course, as it never stops on a single beer, we got pretty tipsy and at one point, even verbally abused the man during class, implying that he was an idiot for proposing to do some exercises when only 4 of us bothered to attend. After that circus, we went to Alecia's place and soon enough May left home and Blair arrived.

          After suffering a severe boredom, we needed an excuse to do bullshit so we modified the game of 'truth and dare' by kicking out the 'truth' part. We went alphabetically; the two of us teaming up in creating a challenge for the third one. The challenges were modest at first but they eventually became extreme. Alecia had to clean her disgusting floor with her tongue and Blair had to gulp down the remaining content of an ashtray. I had the honor of chewing one of Alecia's socks. Then, Blair had to lick between my toes and the bitch bit me twice because I had tried to seduce her by patting her cheek with my entire foot. After that, Alecia had to sustain 20 pegs on the skin of her arms. She screamed the whole time, the whiny pussy. However, it seemed that she didn't mind sauntering her balcony topless. Blair thought she'd get her revenge by making me drink stale water, but she was mistaken. I didn't mind it too much. Sadly, she got her revenge little bit later when she painted a moustache on my face with her mascara and made me walk like that to the gas station to buy beer and cigarettes. I punished her by knocking her ass onto the ground afterwards. When we came back to the apartment, someone wisely asked; "Have you ever wondered what it would be like to get smacked in the head with an Oxford's dictionary?" and curiosity prevailed. To answer this question; it feels really painful. Each sustained 2 smacks; one on each side of the head (the second smack was the crucial one because it returned the brain in its previous position and leveled out the jaw). After being smacked with a 3765 pages heavy book (luckily it wasn't a hardcover), we made an ironical observation that this was the first time after 4 years of studying that we had actually used that dictionary. Ahh, fun times."

Quit watching porn during my class!

          "I just remembered last Friday. It was an interesting day. Our first class was Corpus Linguistics. It's the type of class where we all work on computers, studying corpora and solving some kind of tasks. Of course, if these corpora weren't online, maybe some of us would actually pay attention to our professor's words. We usually spend time on Facebook and MSN while on that class, but this time, we chose YouTube. Alecia was still under the impression of her top 50 hunks list, so we were looking for some interesting videos featuring actors from that list. The crown belonged to Paul Walker, which was a pretty justified choice, if i may add. We YouTubed him and found a video named 'Paul Walker sex scene'. In this scene, he was having sex with some random woman in the laundry room. At the beginning, the woman's leaning down and putting some clothes into the washing machine. Then, Paul Walker approaches and grabs her from behind. Somewhere around here we completely began ignoring everyone else in the room, including our professor, who started calling our names in order to check out answers to some completely unimportant questions. When Paul Walker lifted that woman's shirt and kissed her stomach near the rim of her pants, Alecia and I huddled together and refused to acknowledge anyone else. After 10 seconds of that torturous foreplay, his ass flashed the scene and they started having sex on the washing machine. Our eyes went wide, heart beat and breathing accelerated, eyebrows were lifted and we both started biting out lower lip. I could barely refrain myself from drooling. When our professor called our names, we didn't know where we were. This was a completely new level of refusing to participate in class; by watching porn. 

           That day, we also had Affirmative Drama class. We wrote a colloquium and then analyzed the last play we were supposed to read, 'Sunrise at Campobello', about Roosevelt and his battle with polio. It was supposed to be a didactic play. It served its purpose; I learned that 'gloteus maximus' basically means 'ass' in Latin. After we were done with that chapter, where heroes learn how to deal with and overcome a disability (and after the discussion of whether alcoholism is a disability or not), we initiated a new chapter about heroes accepting other people. This has 3 branches; acceptance of family members, acceptance of partner (of different race - I suggested this as Ella's paper topic and she just glared at me) and acceptance of 'different' (different sexual orientation - perfect paper topic for Blair). 

          After that, something else grasped our attention. Before getting into that, I have to describe the arrangement of chairs and desks in this particular classroom. The biggest number of desks is organized to form a 'U' shape and couple of additional desks are placed in the middle of that shape. Now, I was sitting across Babka and my girls were situated next to me. Across from me sat Babka and George. We all occupied this outer shell. People sitting in the middle were Burek Lady and Dwayne Marley. At one point, Burek Lady stood up and went to the bathroom. I had to glance at her again in disbelief as she had been leaving to convince myself that her choice of attire was real. She was wearing a white track suit which was completely see-through. Beneath its smooth surface rested a pair of undies which struggled hard to cover as much as her ass as possible. It was a vain attempt, since they were Brazilian panties. As if that wasn't more than enough to pain our eyes, I noticed that her panties were white with some kind of dark blue flowers. They were so visible that we could actually count them, if we wanted to. I couldn't control myself, I laughed like an idiot. What helped me ease my conscious was the fact that Babka and George were also trying to stifle a laugh when she returned. We all going to Hell and I'm driving the bus. Though Babka and George will have to wait for another bus, there's no fucking chance I'm driving them as well.

           I just remembered something funny. There was a girl who studied with us till she got pregnant and gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. After that she discovered God and loyalty. It is ironical because before that, she had been in a relationship with one guy for a really long time, then she got drunk, cheated on him, got pregnant, gave birth and now she's getting married to that other guy. The only reason why I keep her as a friend on Facebook is because her hypocrisy makes me laugh. To name couple of fan pages and groups she recently joined:

- Jesus is super!

- Where would I be if it weren't for JESUS??!?!

- Going to church.

- Relationships are all about being faithful!

- I hate it when guys are cheating in a relationship!

- Don't have sex. 'Cause you will get pregnant. And die.

- Honesty is a very expensive present. Don't expect to get it from everyone.

- Brandy.

          She should become a fan of "If you're cheating on your boyfriend, try NOT getting pregnant". Also, the last fan page on that list... Blair says that she probably likes it because it was one of the reasons which got her pregnant."

Since nothing interesting happened today, I'll just insert another diary bit here.

          "I slightly miss being in a relationship. The more I think about it, the more I miss that feeling of having someone to bug at your disposal 24/7. After a whole day spent on classes, the only ones I have to bug after coming home are either my mom or my cats. Let's face it, it's pathetic either way. My social life is below zero. Blair discovered an event which might slightly change that state, in a positive way.

Blair: There's a student party this Thursday!

Eva: Yes... and my sober twin will go to Corpus Linguistics exam on my behalf.

Blair: Damn. Lol. It kinda slipped my mind.

Eva: Yup.

Blair: Damn it, this college stuff is really affecting my social life.

Eva: Well, son of a bitch. We should postpone studying for a year.

Blair: Exactly! We should attend all the parties, do a liver transplantation and return to college on a red carpet!

Eva: Let's be realistic. Who on earth would give us their liver?

Blair: Healthy people still exist... Sometimes I think that the liver of those drunkards who socialize on the bus station is in a better shape than my own...

Eva: We'd have to do away with couple of those. That plan with C4 is out, then. We can't blow them up, though. It would be tricky to glue the liver back together after blowing them up with C4. 

Blair: Add chloroform to the list... and that little mobile refrigerator for the organs... You know, like those which people carry to the beach. We knock them out, cut them, put the liver in the refrigerator and blow them up, destroying all the evidence.

Eva: How about just grabbing the liver and replacing it with C4?

Blair: Spectacular!

Blair: Hey, do people do pussy transportation?

Eva: And they call me demented."

Shit, we really need some professional help.

Everyone report to classroom no. 32!

          "English department of our college is graced with a wide specter of extremely attractive, educated and above all, capable women. That's why our English classes are so visited. When it comes to attractive male professors, generally on our college, we get to see them as often as Blair gets to see a penis. I'll mention couple of those worth mentioning.

           The first one is Prof. Monty. He's a good lecturer; really interesting, cheerful, funny, outgoing. However, there's one trait that particularly sticks out. I don't exactly know how to delicately put this... No, wait. I've got it. I've mentioned that Christian, Alecia and I had on one occasion Googled average penis size of countries in Europe. Croatian average is 12.60cm. Let's just say that without Prof. Monty, that average would be substantially lower. Also, we've made his fan club on Facebook. Alecia is the main administrator. The profile picture she had so carefully selected for that fan club contains 6 people holding an anaconda. Nuff said. I have never met a man who has so much self-confidence. I mean, it's obvious that he sheets it in his pants, but it still amazes me. I recall one of his first lectures when all of us jumped into our own asses by deciding to sit in the first row. For the first 30 minutes, everything was tranquil and in perfect order. We had been paying attention and taking notes. Suddenly one of us gazed at his crotch; I think it was Alecia. That was the end of it. She couldn't stare away from the monster gazing at her. Suddenly everything around us was in a haze and we couldn't control our eyes. No matter where we forced ourselves to look, our glances would viciously wander back to Prof. Monty's lower region. That experience was beyond belief; it was a conspiracy; it was in possession of hypnotic powers, I was most certain. Do you know that situation when you're somewhere outside, looking around, trying to find someone even remotely attractive and when you do, you always seem to connect gazes with that ugly, bald, pale man standing next to them? And every time you try looking at the handsome guy, you catch the attention of the unattractive specimen next to him. Eventually, the ugly dude thinks you want him and you're screwed. This was one of those situations, only in this scenario, Prof. Monty himself was that ugly, bald, fat dude. Anyway, we kept giggling in a very girlish manner every time we'd cast a glance towards the bulge in his pants. I was convinced that even if he twisted it twice around his leg he's still have trouble walking. 

          Next. Before that new jelly professor of English Language Practice, the only younger one we had was Handy Man. There's a reason why we call him that. He's small, bald, oily, ugly and we presume that he never had sex... with a woman. The only person he services is himself - hence the nickname. Few semesters ago, I discovered his profile on Facebook, back when it was still public. It was full of inappropriate photos. There was one where he was drunk, passed out, sitting on the floor against a radiator, with his head slightly leaned forward and his hand still clutching a beer mug. I saved that photo and distributed it around. After this, his profile turned private. Only Babka, George and Dwayne Marley were allowed to see his private photos (they treat professors on Facebook just like Ash treats his Pokemons - gotta catch them all)."

          For us bums, this academic year has started with a week of delay. We didn't feel quite ready to start  with classes last Monday, with the rest of the responsible fellow students, so we took an additional week of rest to psychologically prepare for what's to come. Our reunion occurred few days ago, when most of us attended a class called Modern childhood. I never thought I'd say this, but I would rather have a horde of raging baboons ass-rape me with rusty, old barb-wire while reciting Hitler's speeches in German than attend that class again. Our professor, who probably hit puberty at the same time the black plague hit England, managed to ruin yet another potentially interesting and useful class. She probably has less sex than Blair (if that's even possible) which is making her so irritating that we have even began dwelling on the idea of brutally clobbering her and hiding her body under a carpet. I can't understand that woman... and when I say understand, I don't mean her behavior or attitude. I literally DON'T UNDERSTAND WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF HER MOUTH. I wouldn't mind it so much if she just stuffed in an English word here and there, but she literally rapes Croatian language with English expressions as she speaks. Last year, we took notes on all of her classes, but to no avail; May had to translate them for THAT Croatian to normal Croatian. Also, she carelessly uses English expressions in wrong contexts so we sometimes get sentences like; "You need to take your time and finger only one small child at a time." She meant to say 'point at'. Her classes indeed leave more traumatized victims than the atomic bomb left in Hiroshima.

          After that class, we even managed to get Alecia out of bed. It was 3PM. We invited her for a beer and then went to the apartment to get some coffee. Soon enough, an idea formed in our twisted little heads. Harris, Alecia and I began talking Blair into bringing her new boyfriend over for a cup of coffee and a sober introduction. I don't know what possessed her to consent to that. The last time I dared to introduce them to my boyfriend, they ended that meeting by presenting him with their imaginary list of STDsfacepalming. It was really fun to watch Blair squirm and sweat. 

          We had Prof. Monty today. His class is called "Love, Sex and Marriage in Milton's 'Paradise Lost'". The class was boring so Alecia and I kept staring at his penis and laughed. We signed up for an oral presentation. Alecia took something decent, while I chose the topic called: "Sex in public places and marital problems". It's going to be fun if he ever asks "Who has sex in public?", I'm gonna have to say: "I do."... which isn't that far from the truth.

           

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

          "When I become an intergalactic emperor, I will abolish death metal. Today I drove on the bus with a guy who was sitting four goddamn seats behind me and listening to a guy raping an electric guitar with another electric guitar. He was wearing earphones, but the sound was still as intense as it would be if played on speakers. It was ripping through my already sore head and I had to fight back the urge to jump on him and try to insert them in him, rectally, not starting with the wire. I need to buy myself an MP4. I'm starting to miss Charlie and his disco on wheels. Due to fatigue, I can't even read on the bus anymore. Letters become crazy and jump off the pages and all over the seats and on my clothes and it's impossible for me to collect them. For the last couple of days, I had been examining the surroundings as we drove. It's pretty boring, always the same things; the same brown chicken at the bottom left part of the field pecking at the ground, the same tree decorated with plastic bags of unknown purpose which mystifies me, the same drunken and mentally unstable hitchhiker at the entrance of one of the villages near my hometown - nothing changes! Alright, the drunken and mentally unstable hitchhiker was on the opposite side of the road today, but that's not the point. I have to get myself an MP4 player... Or bus buddies. Yup, better start saving money. 

           Finally, I'm nice and cozy. I took a shower and washed my hair since I have to get up tomorrow around 5AM. My hair looks abnormally good. It's always the same. Whenever I don't have to go anywhere, it looks bloody amazing. If it's Saturday and I have to appear all fancy and girly-like it will look as if belonging to a washed-up rock star. Speaking of bad hairdos, we have a "friend" who is a lying, backstabbing whore and treacherous vaginal discharge of a woman. Oh, and her hairdo also sucks. I've yet to meet a person with such a vivid imagination. Initially, we had been on good terms with her. One could say she was a good friend. She was planning a wedding, we were all invited, great plans were forged and May even bought a dress and cute shoes for the occasion to have it all suspiciously cancelled. We never got to the background story of this entire charade. We just played along, expressing our regrets and yada yada yada, to cut a boring story short, after that, she shamelessly started lying to us as well. Every time a certain arrangement including her was made, she wouldn't appear and then she'd offer us the most inventive and complicated excuses the following day. We even made a list of those excuses. It took up several pages of my last diary. The procedure was as follows:

- we make plans to go out (few times we even bought alcohol for her and depended on her as our ride)

- we set the date and location

- we appear

- she doesn't

- we try contacting her and she tells us she'd be there in a minute

- an hour passes, we're drunk, thinking that we may have forgotten something

- after another hour of drinking we realize what that forgotten 'thing' was

- again, we try calling her, she doesn't answer

- we drink more, dance, vomit, go to sleep

- the following day there's an excuse neatly delivered to one of the mobile phones

          The excuses are simply astonishing. I'll name couple of them. While she was still with that last sucker of hers, she stood us up because they had gone to talk to the priest and he kept them busy till midnight so it was OBVIOUSLY too late for her to drive over and go out with us. For my birthday, she had fallen asleep in the shower. For Alecia's last annual festivity, her cousin had been driving her to Alecia's village (so that she could drink with us) through some unregistered roads in the middle of woods, when a drunken man miraculously formed on the side of the road on his bicycle and her cousin nailed him with her car. She informed us of the accident, saying that her cousin was simply too upset to be left alone and that the car needed some fixing. Nobody mentioned the injured drunkard who got ass-raped by a car; he obviously crawled back to the fairy land from which he had originally poofed. Then there was this one time her cousin had to be taken rapidly to oral surgery and there was no time to explain why, yet she found enough time to describe the circumstances in a novel of a text message while driving at the speed of 100km/h though the city. Oh, and my personal favorite! I can't recall the inducement, however, her grandpa's brother had died and she was in charge of the transportation of the priest and the coffin, which is pretty funny, seeing that her car is slightly bigger than a sardine can. The only way that would actually be feasible if is she had stuffed the priest into the coffin and then into the car."

Who's the dumbass? You're the dumbass!

          "I had been playing Treasure Madness again and exchanging items with Blair when Alecia posted a public invitation to a group on my Wall. The group was inviting people to tell the truth to women who have been cheated on by their boyfriends. Alecia's personal message attached to this invitation was the following: "Eva, your boyfriend is having an affair with me." This brought on an interesting, yet humble in length, discussion.

Eva: How should we handle this?

Blair: I can see that I sent you that chastity belt in Treasure Madness for nothing. Shame on you!

Eva: You only sent it because you have no use of it anymore, you old whore.

Blair: Your boyfriend is cheating on you with her and I'm the whore? Screw you, you deserve everything you get.

          Speaking of boyfriends cheating on their girlfriends, one of my greatest wishes is that one day Dwayne Marley gets his dream job, in a perfect office, with amazing co-workers, great salary and ME as his boss. I think that karma would then make up for what he did to me. I would constantly provoke him. He hates it when people address him with his full name, because that reminds him of an elementary school teacher who had the same nasty habit when he was supposed to do something in front of the whole class. In that imaginary setting, I don't think I would allow 10 minutes to pass without yelling "Dwayne Marley!" at him, in front of everybody or through the speaker box, even if it were just to check the time or to warn him that the female bathroom is running out of toilet paper. We collected a nice variety of such ideas, which could be realized during staff meetings:

- You've all done an outstanding job, except for you, Dwayne Marley; you'll have to do it all over again.

- We should all go and get a glass of beer after work. Not you, Dwayne Marley, you need to remake the entire project.

- Get me a cup of coffee, Dwayne Marley, but the one from that coffee shop on the other side of the town. Seeing that you don't have a driver's license, you'll have to walk. No, you may not take the bus or a taxi. I don't like the taste of stirred coffee.

- C'mon people! Order another round, it's on Dwayne Marley!

- Someone has puked all over our office toilet. Dwayne Marley, why don't you go and clean it?

- Who should get a raise? That old, foreign, cleaning lady who suspiciously smells of cheese and goes through our garbage when no one's looking or Dwayne Marley? - So, it's decided. Congratulations, Juanita!

- Should we get a new coffee machine or give Dwayne Marley a raise? - Hooray for coffee!

- Someone's been stealing office supplies and equipment. Who do you think it is? That ex-addict con on parole or Dwayne Marley? - Yes, officers, that's him right there. Dwayne Marley."

          I need to mention two more people who study with us. They're so vivacious and intriguing that I occasionally wish to stab someone's eye with a rusty fork just to keep things interesting when they speak. Their names - Mr. Plato and Dean Assless. They're both philosophy students. Mr. Plato's an arrogant asshole and a poet. He's not on my list of friends on Facebook, but he's obviously not one of those people who read 'terms of use', so I was able to study his profile. Two things caught my attention. For his political views, he named the following: aristocracy of indestructible kinsmen. His religious views are even better (I'm not sure if this translation is correct seeing that I don't understand what this means even in Croatian): mantic self-sight circle of goddess Athens Always-Imminent. What the hell?! Even Google remained powerless against such a textual diarrhea. The only way to settle this would be to ask him himself, but I don't speak Dickhead. Dean Assless is really nice. He's weird, but decent. We call him that because it seems that he lacks an ass. Seriously, it seems that his legs are directly connected to his back. Also, he's always dressed as if his mom chose his outfits. Nevertheless, he's really nice.

          "Just to mention couple of short news. TIMMYYY has sent Blair yet another message and this one sounds a bit more desperate than the last one. This time he pointed fingers at some girl called Adrianna. So far, we've dragged two innocent people into this pile of shit. Let's see how many more we will be able to before he pinpoints the culprit - me. Also, I've just scanned through Babka's profile, too. Now she's in this 'proud to be a linguist' film. I can't wait to get rid of her. Those poor Polish bastards."

Hooray for Poland! You people are heroes and I thank you. 

          "I barely got up this morning. The night was extremely exhausting for me because I had dreamt about 4 dreams, all of them had different and unconnected plots. I dragged my lazy ass to the bus and came to college about an hour before my first class was starting. Deciding to make a good use of that time, I ventured to the library, indenting to read "Sunrise at Campobello" there. Supposedly, it was a short play and our library was in serious deficit of it, so it was not to be taken out unless it's for photocopying. I asked the nice librarian to let me read the last copy there, but someone had beaten me to it and took it out. She told me that the girl was supposed to bring it back soon and suggested waiting in the study room. I nodded and decided to go to the bathroom first. Wrong choice - because during those 3 minutes I spent peeing, the girl had returned the play and Dwayne Marley miraculously sniffed out the precise moment to screw me over and collected it. Dumbass.

           Also, we had a colloquium today. I studied a little on the bus, for approximately 4 minutes and then I switched to detective Bosch (who is more alluring than behaviorism and humanistic theories). While I was on the bus, my fellow students were taking a college break; they skipped a class, drank some coffee and maybe eventually chose to go through the materials. I assumed that this college break included 57 minutes of gossiping and 3 minutes of studying. That's why we held close ranks during the exam. Standard pedagogical procedure; we domineered two rows, squishing together as close as possible. Alecia was so convinced of her knowledge that she even proposed a contest called "who knows less" or "who will solve the test faster". I'm not sure if that's the right name she mentioned, but it was definitely something along those lines. Anyhow, she won, since she required no more than 10 minutes to sum down all that superior knowledge on a borrowed piece of paper and abandon the classroom in a sudden dash.

          After the test, I got a copy of "Sunrise at Campobello" and rushed with Blair to the bus station. We entered two different busses, which were parked next to each other. Just as I had settled into my seat, I noticed a certain someone entering the bus. It was TIMMYYY. The moment our eyes connected I spat out a laughter and hid behind a seat, wiping away the drool and snorting violently into a handkerchief. He sat two seats in front of me so when I literally glued my face to the window, I was able to see his reflection in it. However, that attempt made me appear weird and slightly retarded to the rest of the passengers. Now, if there was somebody else in my place, someone with little more regard to decency and personal dignity, they would probably refrain themselves from such behavior in public. But not me. Not only did I fasten my face to the window, but I started waving towards Blair's bus. Sadly, she was looking the other way and didn't notice the maniac who had been wildly gesticulating and raking her nails against the glass in a vain attempt to grasp her attention. Damn you, woman!

          It was funny. I kept leaning towards the glass, eyeing at his reflection. He seemed somewhat worried and kept looking around. Maybe he was scared of somebody monitoring his every move, like maybe his personal stalker sitting two seats behind him? I kept repeating his nickname in my head, screaming it loudly, as if I wanted him to hear me and turn around. I just hoped my mouth wouldn't slip up and follow suit, verbalizing it in a very loud and excited tone. If that happened, I'd probably rake my own safety exit in the bus floor. Apart from my secret and slightly perverted gates, nothing worth mentioning associated with him happened. He still hasn't answered our last message and probably tags the blame on Raw Boned and Adrianne."

A bit on the wild side

          "Few days ago, in a wild combination of boredom and mischief, Alecia and I began viewing profiles on Facebook. Nobody interesting or sexually alluring was online. Suddenly, as I had been going through friend's friends, I noticed a familiar profile picture belonging to an old acquaintance. Now, there's a story attached to that face. We went to the same elementary school but we were never really friends. I had a friend who had a crush on his best friend; the usual, immature stuff. I didn't even know his real name, only his nickname (which he inherited from his father, along with his passion towards football). In this entry, I will use the nickname TIMMYYY, spelt in that precise way. Reasons to this will be explained. Anyway, there was a period where I completely forgot about his existence, till the day I noticed him mingling with other freshmen in the hallway of our college. The first word to have entered my mind was TIMMYYY. He hadn't changed one bit. I informed Alecia of his nickname and dared her to yell it, my mind oblivious to the fact that she's crazy and impulsive enough to do it. Once she did, in a manner resembling the Timmy character from South Park, we turned away from him, blending in with the rest of the confused freshmen. We were as subtle as a piece of lettuce on a McDonalds menu. This entire venture went out of control after this incident and it eventually became Alecia's habit. She was on constant alert, hoping to see his face amongst many others and despite the proximity, my presence or the potential embarrassment her enterprise might involve, she craved for more opportunities to yell TIMMYYY's name. This had not only become a habit, but a standard procedure in case of a close encounter. It's been active for the past two years and still ongoing. However, we're currently taking it to a whole new level.

           I showed her his profile and that 'send message' option below his profile picture was just too tempting to be omitted. I urged Alecia to send him a message saying TIMMYYY (suggesting a raised tone of voice followed by at least 10 exclamation marks) and she did. In his response, he wanted her to identify herself. Since this was out of the question, we just kept teasing him by writing stupid answers with a mandatory addition of TIMMYYY in each of our replies till he actually blocked her. His last response was: "Say hello to Raw Boned for me." After that, we realized that we may have fucked up an innocent person. We felt a bit bad and decided not to pursue the joke anymore.

         This decision lasted till the following day, when we talked Blair into doing the same thing. TIMMYYY even corrected us; it appeared that we had misspelled his nickname. Again, that Raw Boned person was mentioned. After that, we got no response from him. It was virtual harassment, no doubt about it. We plan to pull couple of more people into this by making them send him the message of the same content. It's horrible, but by the end of this prank, his annoyance will have blossomed into paranoia. Eh, we're going to hell anyway, we might as well have some fun along the way.

          Today Blair and Alecia got bored during their class so they, following the footsteps of Facebookers all over the globe, started inventing and annotating the names of idiotic groups and fan pages that could be found there, but these were a byproduct of recent events and TIMMYYY. Here are  some examples:

- Blair became a fan of: I wanna run down the street naked and yell: TIMMYYY!!!!

- Alecia became a fan of: I wanna poke TIMMYYY while on college and yell TIMMYYY!!!!

- Blair became a fan of: I wanna run into TIMMYYY and then run off yelling TIMMYYY!!!!

- Blair became a fan of: I hate it when TIMMYYY doesn't reply to my messages.

- Alecia became a fan of: I hate it when TIMMYYY ignores me on Facebook.

- Blair became a fan of: I hate it when people misspell TIMMYYY.

- Alecia became a fan of TIMMYYY.

- Blair became a fan of Raw Boned, my good pal!

- Alecia became a fan of: I hate it when TIMMYYY thinks that Raw Boned is screwing with him.

- Blair joined the group: People who have at least once yelled TIMMYYY!!!!

- Blair joined the group: If I'm running around college yelling TIMMYYY, it doesn't mean I'm disturbed.

- Blair became a fan of: TIMMYYY rocks! xD

- Blair became a fan of: <3 TIMMYYY <3"

          Our college is full of weird people. Next in line to Babka, George and Burek Lady is another individual who I simply cannot omit. We named her Cher. Her attire resembles the one of Burek Lady; it's a complete wardrobe malfunction. Every time she attended our classes, she looked as if her wardrobe had swallowed her naked, mumbled her around its pit, leaving whatever attached to her body on her and then vomiting her in such a state back into the world of normal people. That's how she was usually dressed. However, those fashion combinations aren't the only thing making her unique. Her declarations are to be memorized, written and passed down to the following generations in order to make them pee with laughter. 

          Two are the reasons why we named her Cher. The first reason is the one described in the previous paragraph. Secondly, there was her need to share her personal and most intimate information with the rest of the class, including our professors. One time, we were supposed to go in circle and name things we're proud of. Most of the people mentioned their faculty achievements, getting driver's licenses and such. At this point, she mentioned how her proudest achievement was being able to deliver kittens. In addition to that completely senseless and unnecessary skill, she also mentioned how she hated when her father came to collect her after a night out with her friends and then stayed and talked to them and to her boyfriend. Next, she discussed alcoholic beverages which intoxicated her quickest, along with the consequences of those drinks experienced the following day. She also mentioned how her first born son would be named after a deceased Macedonian singer. She had his picture in her student book and she proudly distributed it to everyone, especially to those who were least interested. The reason why I mentioned her is because she had just sent me a message on Facebook, asking me if I was interested to go out with her. I would, I honestly would, but I have to go and defuse a nuclear time-bomb while suckling on some cyanide bonbons.

          Also, Christian has just informed us of his attendance to something called 'a mapping party'. Before I had a chance to Google it, he offered an awkward explanation to Alecia, which we of course, didn't understand. Basically, it was some kind of a geeky trip. He mentioned something about walking through woods and unmarked trails and measuring, then documenting and filing the same data into computer programs. I don't see how this can be called a party. It would be a party if they carried beer and schnapps with them, though this would probably end up with them marking those trails with vomit. Most likely, drunken orientation would get them lost and would make them an easy pray to bandits. I mean, worthy equipment in the hands of half of dozen inebriated geeks simply screams 'robbery'. And 'rape'. I'm laughing. 

          Christian also mentioned Dwayne Marley, reminding me that it's been a while since I last saw him. I stalk him over Alecia's Facebook profile every now and then, since I had deleted him both on Facebook and MSN. To cut story short, during that period when his alter ego Hans prevailed (Hans was lovely, humorous, natural and actually LIKEABLE), he had been on extremely good terms with us. Then he cheated on his girlfriend with me, lied to both of us, decided to stay with her but couldn't find enough balls to confront me till I actually forced him, then he discarded both me and my friends and how he treats us like insolent maggots with a mental disability. A really charming guy, right? It would be easier to get back at him if he talked to us, but since he doesn't, we talk behind his back. Lately he had been seen around an attractive brunette called Angie. They are constantly together during classes, whispering soft things into each other's ear and nuzzling into each other. He was even seen applying his ultimate seduction technique; taking a girl to a coffee date and then brainwashing her into dating him. I never attend those; I fear them. The pressure of being alone within arm's reach with someone I'm attracted to makes me knock things over, perspire abnormally much and stumble over my own words (this is usually associated with production of incoherent sounds similar to those present during an elephant mating). I went out with him on such a date once. It was a disaster. I would rather have my naked ass pained red and then pushed into a Beetle with a raging bull than repeat that experience. Yes, it was THAT uncomfortable. I've no idea how his current girlfriend Jane (Bambi in our book), lived through that same trail just to get a status of his girlfriend. To get back to the point, his flirting with Angie is as subtle as a nuclear bomb explosion. It's funny how he feels that those things go unnoticed by the people who surround him. Alecia said that she would one day walk up to him and ask him: "Hey Dwayne Marley, how's your girlfriend?" He would then answer and then she'd say: "Good, good. And how's Jane?" Snap! We all share a good laugh. Curtain down.

Online wisdom

          "I have a big problem and it's called 'Facebooking under the influence of alcohol'. It is beyond belief how I can automatically start my computer and log onto Facebook and MSN, but can barely hit the keyhole upon entering the house. I ought to seek help. Maybe I should hide my modem before going out. That would decrease the percentage of virtual embarrassment per Saturday. Also, I hate it when I accidentally knock something down in my room, like a book or my telephone, and then my dad immediately yells and asks if everything's alright. The same procedure is followed when I'm in the bathroom, too. It's probably because they know I'm a sissy... and a clumsy one at that. I guess they won't be getting over the falling-unconscious-down-the-stairs-after-cutting-a-finger-on-the-pate incident, damn them. Or the falling-into-the-sewer incident, either. That's Nellen's favorite one - she enjoys retelling it to everyone; her parents, our friends, random people on the streets, our professors... It wasn't a big deal. I had arrived from college and nobody was home. It was already evening and the darkness crawled over. Being a lazy ass, I over-encumbered myself with bags and my laptop so that I, God forbid, wouldn't have to carry things from my car into the house twice. I unlocked the garden door and somehow stumbled inside. The hallway leading to my house was dark, but I didn't bother to turn the lights on. Clumsily did I plod towards the entrance door, leaving the travelling bag in front of it. Then I returned to the garden door, intending to lock it. Regretfully, the workers who had been there earlier forgot to put the lid back over the sewer's hole. I fell right in, along with my laptop and another, smaller bag. Due to those two things, I didn't fall all the way through, but got stuck thanks to my new and enhanced diameter. My ribs were slightly bruised and both of my hands were partially relieved of skin. It was a disgusting sight. My left knee also got bruised after coming in contact with some pipes inside the hole. At first, I simply laughed at my bad luck. Then, after I had managed to crawl outside and after my bruises had cooled off, I started aching all over. For some unknown reason, I instantly shared that experience with Alecia over the phone. I also reconsidered the possibility of calling her back again later after her laughter subsided. She laughed for about 5 minutes and then told me to see a doctor. I honestly don't know why I had even called her. I would have gotten more sympathy from our local coroner.

            I finished reading Connelly's book, A Darkness More Than Night. It's a good one. I like detective Bosch even more. He entices me, especially now that I've realized he's a bit of an outlaw who takes justice into his own hands, from time to time. I posted another questions to those great minds on Yahoo!, asking their opinion about which actor would make a good Harry Bosch. I need to give him a face and I'm having a hard time doing it myself. I'm sure that there will be many justified and fruitful suggestions."

           Blair is full of hidden talents. After the discovery of her composing haiku poems, she informed us of yet another talent which could easily be cashed. Ostensibly, she has a musical vagina. Alright, I'm exaggerating, all she told us that once, when she had been performing some kind of gymnastic figure, her cherry surprised her by releasing air. This was a huge mistake; not the air part, but sharing such information with the rest of us, uneducated apes. We never stopped teasing her. We even developed a theory of how her pussy might sound, comparing it to various instruments. In the end, we agreed that it most likely sounded like a trumpet. This was actually a compliment, seeing that our next choice was a horn. During one of our English Language Practice classes, we had been solving some grammatical constructions and then we were asked to read the solutions out loud. That jelly professor called out Blair's name and the sentence she got was; "...for he always tried to praise others rather than blow his own trumpet." I screamed. Alecia next to me screamed. Blair could barely read the entire sentence. Our professor remained a bit confused, but didn't inquire too much about what brought on this unstoppable fit of laughter. For all of you interested in the glorious sounds of Blair's vagina, there's a song called "Jungle Shadow" by Kiril Džajkovski. It was performed live at Exit festival in 2008 and it can easily be tracked down on YouTube. THE sound is introduced after the first 40 seconds of the song. In addition to that, I have a prophetic boob (the left one, which is the bigger one). From time to time, it casts foreshadowing of certain events that will take place in the future. Sadly, it can't be used for betting. Yes, I've tried.

          "Alcohol brings families together! Yesterday was yet another successful evening. My mom called me down, asking me if I wanted to have a sip of some champagne my dad got for his birthday. How could I have possibly rejected her? My mom, aunt and I sat in the living room for about an hour before their cheeks became reddish and their giggling to my theories about why all pensioners were headed to the market at 7AM turned into a whole-hearted, bordering with crazy, laughter. Honestly, I was almost embarrassed by remaining unaffected by such an amount of this fancy alcoholic beverage. Eventually, to neatly tuck away my alcohol-tolerance from interested gazes, I started fiddling with my sweater, saying that it suddenly became warm in the room, while in fact, I was perfectly fine. After having drunk my share of the champagne, I decided my liver deserved some more punishment so I gathered couple of beers and brought them up to my room. Meanwhile, Alecia had been on her way to the gas station to replenish her own alcohol supplies. Soon enough, Blair, she and I got together in a conference on MSN and rambled on deep into the night."

Eva: Have you seen pictures from the wedding?

Eva: Blair, here's a link to my personal favorite.

Alecia: HOLY SHIT! Those are not boobs, those are JUGS. This picture should be in the dictionary next to 'jugs'.

Eva: God dammit. Those could cause an eclipse.

Blair: She should try covering them next time she goes to church.

Blair: Though I'm not certain what could she possibly use to make them look more decent.

Eva: Maybe a parasol.

Eva: Oh, man. This right here. This is our one-way ticket to Hell.

Alecia: That verdict was adjourned long ago, Eva.

Blair: It seems there weren't many people at the wedding.

Alecia: Yup, that's what I noticed as well. That many people come to my annual festivity.

Blair: Lol! Here's another gem: "My tractor brings all the farmers to da yard and they're like 'Yeehaw'!"

Eva: Why the hell would you be searching for tractors on Facebook?

Blair: I was in the mood. 

Alecia: Mmm. Beer.

Eva: We're having the time of our lives. 

Blair: Eva, this one's for you: "If they ever make a profile view-tracker that actually works, I'm screwed."

Eva: Join!

Blair: You stalker, you.

Eva: WHY DOESN'T CHAIN WANT ME?

Alecia: Oh. We're there already?

Alecia: Because he's a retarded moron.

Eva: No, no. Wait.

Alecia: And if he ever used his upper head, maybe he would see what he's missing. 

Eva: Cut the crap.

Alecia: He would fight for you like a real man.

Eva: Shut the fuck up.

Alecia: He would hold you and never let go.

Eva: Will you cut the crap already?

Blair: I agree with her.

Eva: You're both stupid.

Eva: I'm not in love with him, you don't have to go all defensive on me. I'm just curious to know what I did or didn't do that made him run like hell.

Alecia: Well, you did try to start a conversation about stamps. 

Blair: They're as dumb as a rock.

Eva: I've never been in that sort of relationship and it bugs me.

Alecia: What relationship? It was no relationship, it was just a booty call.

Eva: No friends with benefits?

Alecia: No. FWB - friends first, sex later. Not vice versa.

Eva: Fuck, you're right.

Eva: I need a friend with benefits.

Alecia: I'm having a serious conversation with Trevor about my relationship with Christian.

Eva: Great. He has already informed me of your rotten mood.

Blair: Are we having problems again?

Eva: I love this. I simply adore you guys. Just look. One of us is having problems, meaning we all do. You didn't ask; are you having problems again, but you used 'we'.

Blair: Because it reflects on all of us.

Alecia: We are the Borg.

Blair: The resistance is futile. You will be drunk.

Eva: How do we manage to warp everything so that it's associated with drinking?

Blair: It's a talent. Beer us up, Scotty!

Eva: Now I feel hot. If I keep undressing myself at this rate, I will really be naked on this side of the chat window. 

Alecia: At least your joining the "You can't see, but when I'm talking to you on MSN, I'm probably naked" group will be justified. 

Alecia: Hey Blair, what about you and Shaggy?

Blair: I saw him today and no, we're not in a relationship. 

Alecia: You concluded that today, or...?

Blair: Nah, I knew that before. We just confirmed it, so yes, I have a friend with benefits.

Eva: You're putting out already?

Blair: No, not yet. But I think I'm gonna start sometime soon.

Eva: Holy fuck. I need to get myself a friend with benefits.

Alecia: I want a relationship.

Eva: Seriously. What?

Eva: No, wait. Just recently you told me that you didn't want a relationship.

Alecia: I've been thinking about it for a while. The problem is that I don't want just anybody. 

Alecia: Can I ask you guys a serious question? And I would like an honest reply.

Eva: Yeah.

Blair: Yes.

Alecia: Do you think Christian and I would ever again be together?

Eva: I've no idea. I mean, there's no fucking way I could even remotely guess on that one. I can't be objective. I kinda like you. Plus in the light of recent events, I've learned that wheel can make a full turn in a matter of seconds. Who knows, maybe you'll end up together. Maybe not, maybe you'll stay just friends. And maybe you'll get kidnapped and raped by a raging horde of horny monkeys. 

Alecia: Lol.

Eva: Can now I ask a serious question? I'm also in need of an honest answer.

Alecia: Yes.

Blair: Mhm. 

Eva: Will I ever have sex again?

Blair: No.

Alecia: No.

Eva: I have another question.

Alecia: No.

Eva: Fuck you.

Eva: Okay. Imagine the Beer Fairy comes to you and gets you drunk. She then says that you have to have sex with our very own Handy Man, otherwise you will never have sex again. Oh, and I mean no form of sex whatsoever. Meaning - no orgasms. Would you do it?

Blair: Handy Man? That sleazy, half-bald, socially handicapped assistant of ours?

Eva: Mhm. 

Blair: No.

Blair: No.

Blair: NO.

Eva: Blair, no orgasms. Ever again.

Alecia: Wait. How drunk would I be?

Eva: Commode-hugging drunk.

Alecia: Meh. Then I would probably do it.

Eva: What about you, Blair? What could possibly force into bed with him? Besides heavy drugs?

Blair: Satan.

Eva: LOL! I'm laughing so hard that I snorted some of my beer through my nose and onto my laptop!

Blair: Damn you all.

Alecia: Why?

Blair: For installing that image into my head, that's way! 

Blair: Devil, be gone!

Eva: What the hell are we gonna do about the concert on Saturday? Trevor's got two tickets and he's eager to let us have them.

Alecia: I'm not gonna take his ticket. I'm not that enthusiastic about going.

Eva: Neither am I. But he was nice enough to supply us with tickets. I'd appear a total bitch if I rejected them. 

Alecia: Nobody's forcing you to go.

Eva: I know, I know. But I don't wanna be a huge, hairy pussy and reject the tickets.

Blair: Lol, a hairy vagina.

Alecia: Okay, first of all, ew, you're both disgusting. Second, why?

Eva: Because he has two tickets which he maybe or maybe not, acquired because I had expressed my desire to go weeks ago. If he had gotten them just because of me and I refused to accept them, I'd appear a total ass. 

Alecia: You have no choice. You've got to go.

Eva: But I don't wanna! For goodness' sake, I peed on him! I can't look at him in the eyes.

Eva: How about he gives us the tickets and he uses his badge to get in?

Alecia: That might work.

Blair: Yeah, I've changed my mind.

Blair: I'm not gonna go.

Eva: LOL what made you think you were even invited? 

Alecia: Gah, I'm choking with laughter.

Alecia: She only said that because she realized that she wasn't even included in the story.

Blair: Fuck you and I mean it.

Be my Bosch

          "For my book report, I randomly chose a book called "City of Bones", written by Michael Connelly. I read it in merely couple of days, though it's about 400 pages in length. Even though I was rather disappointed upon reaching the end, which came almost abruptly and left too many questions unanswered, I was amazed by Connelly's style of writing. It's simple, as if he just places his thoughts on a piece of paper as they come along. His message gets across easily, events are well organized and his descriptions are neither too long nor too short, but just right. Although, I have to admit, one of the reasons why I like the book so much is my infatuation with the main character; the lead investigator called Hieronymous 'Harry' Bosch. 

           He's a very mysterious, highly perceptive, imposing, authoritative, experienced and skilled investigator. His job is his life; he's very devoted to every single case he takes on. He's in his fifties and I don't exactly have a clear image of his face presented in my mind; it's his character that I find intriguing and attractive. Furthermore, he was named after a 15th century Dutch painted whose work I also find astonishing. Their connection is most exhibited in another Connelly's book; "A Darkness More Than Night". Bosch, the painter, was most popular for his triptychs which depicted world full of perversity, sin, nudity and twisted fantasies. This book is connected to Bosch's work in a sense that the symbolic interpretation of each of his paintings brings the investigators one step closer to reveling a serial killer's identity. One of the motifs referred to in the book is an image of an owl, which often appears on Bosch's triptychs. I wanted to see these paintings, so I used Google, my secondary brain which is operational when my own is in sleep/drunk mode. The painting I Googled is called "The Garden of Earthly Delights". It's huge and has too many characters to count, but that didn't stop me from staring at the painting like an idiot and trying to find the damned owl and the naked man who's hugging the stupid bird. It was like trying to find Waldo in a candy striper parade. After a good hour of searching, I accidentally stumbled upon it (if anyone's interested, it's located on the centre part of the triptych, on the left side, in the bottom lake, right next to two woman neatly situated in a bubble). 

           Bosch's painting reminded me of a poster I had last seen couple of years ago in Germany, in my gay uncle's apartment. That poster was also full of divine and sinful imaginary creatures, angels, demons, humans, animals and some kind of hybrids. Everything was chaotic. The poster presented some kind of morbid parade which descended from huge, gaping mouth of a smiling, bald, fat man. It was surrounded with naked female and male genitalia, detached from the body. This composition immediately reminded me of Bosch, so I sent my uncle a message, asking him if it was a correct assumption. Soon enough he answered me, saying that it was a common mistake since Bosch and the author of that painting shared a rather similar creative expression. He revealed to me that the author's name was Carsten Svennson and that the name of his painting was Gaia. I spent the next couple of hours scanning through every possible painting made by Bosch, intently studying them, thinking how his paintings could easily serve as an excellent illustration of Dante's "Divine Comedy". After feeling overwhelmed by art (since I never bothered studying it more than 3 seconds, which is precisely enough for me to look at a certain painting and look away), I decided to call it a day and go to sleep. "

          Pedagogy tries to teach us how to be more optimistic, tolerant, altruistic and empathic. All of these traits are not only important when working with children, but with people in general. Regretfully, our behavior undermines all the attempts our professors make while trying to turn us into better people. Take this conversation, for example.

Eva: I sent you an invitation to join a group called: My turban brings all the Muslims to the yard and they're like العنصرية ش. There's also a Chinese version of this group. It involves noodles.

Blair: I have a Muslim friend on my list. It wouldn't be appropriate to join that group. But I haven't got a Chinese! Hit me! 

Eva: My noodles bring all the Chinese to the yard and they're like 美味的面条.

Blair: There we go. Intercultural pedagogy my ass.

           On many different occasions do we talk about lesbians (most often these conversations include Blair - for no apparent reason, we just tease her that she's a lesbian). When talking about lesbians we divide them into two types: just lesbians and vicious lesbians. Just lesbians are plain lesbians. Vicious lesbians are bitchy lesbians who have to compensate for their physical lack of balls by inventing a figurative pair. That's why they often argue and beat people up for no reason. There's one of such lesbians living here, too. She lives on the other side of the town but she's known all over. People tend to avoid her. Anyway, few days ago, when Blair, Alecia and Alecia's cousin Mattias decided to test their alcohol endurance (which is now classified as a skill) by buying 6l of beer and a bottle of tequila, the three of us sat near a bank and waited for Alecia to return from the nearby cash machine. Mattias sat in between me and Blair. I saw the bank's security guard moving slowly behind the glass, with arms folded over his chest. I suggested teasing him, pretending that we would run towards him in a hostile fashion, to see if he was trigger happy. Mattias turned towards me and muttered in a quiet, yet serious tone; "We should sent in Blair to threaten him with her troop of vicious lesbians." At that point, something inside of me snapped and I experienced a really loud and to my companions, comfort-disturbing laughing fit. The joke wasn't so funny, but it hit the right spot at that moment and I kept laughing through the three following stores we visited. I wouldn't let it go. By the time we got to the apartment, we had already devised a complete scheme of Blair's lesbian organization, which functioned pretty much like  the Italian mafia, but instead of leaving a horse's head in an enemy's bed as a threatening gesture, lesbians could leave chicken breasts. 

          "I think karma has me on her black list. She's been a real bitch lately. Yesterday, some stupid bird crapped all over my jacket. It could be considered luck only if I had been holding somebody else's jacket. Also, just two minutes before leaving home and going to catch a bus, I accidentally spilled a full cup of coffee on my white sweater, clean pants and and on my new, flowery and completely giddy slippers. This was an open invitation for a whole new inventory of profanities. Also, on the bus that day, a very hairy and smelly man sat next to me, fell asleep and snored the whole way. Even the loud sound of bus engine gave in to that rumbling noise.

          My stomach hurts. Karma gave it another punch few days ago, during a Corpus Linguistics class. Corpus Linguistics is an elective class and (to my surprise) it's not all that bad. For May, the feeling of sitting there in front of a computer and searching through numerous corpora and through a vicious little program called SARA (which often refuses cooperation and crashes) is almost orgasmic. She's a bit of a freak, but we love her. Anyway, we work on computers and we're constantly online. So, the lazy bums that we are, we usually set up camp in the last couple of rows of the classroom and waste our time on Facebook while the rest of the people diligently work. We pretend to be scanning through collocations and evaluating Z and MI score of different phrases, but we're actually harvesting corn on FarmVille. At the beginning of our last class, one of my lazy bum colleagues ordered me to come online on Facebook chat so that she could forward me a link. Once I opened the link, I realized that it was an invitation to a group called: "I hate it when I have my period in the ocean and a shark bites my vagina." Again, not the funniest group in the world, but it was one of those moments when you're absolutely not supposed to be laughing, which only adds oil to an already raging flame. One of my hands covered my mouth in vain attempt to muffle the sound of laughing, and the other, which was solidly pressed against the table as I laughed, began rocking it as my entire body shook. The monitor nearly fell down. The moment I pressed 'Join', I felt something going wrong. In about minute or so I unexpectedly got my period. Luckily I had been on land, otherwise I would no doubtingly become surrounded with man-eating white sharks eager to bite my vagina. Stupid karma. How does she do it every single time?

          I was unable to move properly for the rest of the day. I remember how one of my male friends once wondered out loud what it would be like to have a period. I told him that if he was eager to find out, I would gladly stuff a went sponge down his pants and subsequently kick him in the nuts."

          Out of pure boredom, I had been skimming through some interesting showbiz news when I ran into an article I just had to forward to Alecia. Being aware of her incessant obsession with Colin Farrell, I simply knew that she would rampage through the room out of pure joy after reading it. No need to deny it, like most of these posts on my blog, this one also revolves around a penis. However, this is not just any penis, but a Colin Farrell penis. The article was about Jackie Collins being in awe after watching his home-made video. She made a statement about the glorious and tremendous size of Farrell's equipment. The moment I had shared this link with Alecia, she made a desperate plea, wishing to see that video. Being a good friend, I was even willing to expose my laptop to countless threats which emerge from a single visit to most popular porn sites, just to make her happy. Finally, I managed to find it. I tried opening it, but it requested a newer version of Flash Player. At this point, I started suspecting that it was a dud, but forwarded the link to Alecia nevertheless. She told me that it was the real video and I initiated the downloading process, wishing to see just what made Jackie Collins shiver in fear.

          Woman like Alecia and me don't know how to watch porn. We both watched the video at the same time and commented on the most idiotic things; why the hell was that stupid naked woman in front of the television switching channels when she has a very naked and eager Colin Farrell in the room?! These comments lasted till a certain part of Colin's body probed the scene (very literally). I'd say he's an exception, if we were to believe that average penis length table, which situates Ireland somewhat at the bottom of the list. My MSN window never stopped flashing after being swamped with Alecia's impressions and exclamations. Farrell certainly lived up to his reputation. I was forced to watch the initial part of the video couple of times to pause it at a precisely perfect moment where its valor would be at its climax. After that, my finger never moved away from PrintScreen button. Colin's penis invaded absolutely every chat window. It was unstoppable. After that incident had passed and the passion cooled down a notch, Alecia and I gallantly became fans of Colin James Farrell on Facebook (this was only because his penis didn't have it's own profile).

          Also, Alecia had just asked me a very interesting question and got a semi-automatic, but an honest answer. She asked: "What do you think, if I were to end up on TV, what would be the reason?", to which I simply stated: "Indecent exposure." I admit it, her little escapade of taking a dip in the fountain last week may have influenced my answer a bit.