Les Dents de la Mer

Wanna do something fun? Let's sing-along about the worst hangover ever. If you don't know the lyrics, simply throw up every time the chorus kicks in, that will do it.

What should I tell you about last night if I want to be honest and clear? Well, I met the lead singer of 30Y. They are a pretty popular band (more by underground means, not in the media, which is a good thing), and they did a show in our city. When my Kurt Cobain-copycat friend pointed him out - they were just about to leave the place where they played, a pretty good little bar/pub/whatever - , I couldn't resist, had some kind of urge to talk to the guy. I asked him if I could shake his hand, he said yes, then if he really was that guy from the band. A second positive answer, and I told him something like this:

"Listen, I'm far from being your fan, but thanks for coming, people are glad because you were here, and this is kinda like an honour, you know."

He liked that. I think this is the kind of fanboyism what musicians (let me not say the word celebrity) deserve, instead of a bunch of alter-emo kids screaming and waving after the tourbus. That was a a sad sight. Well, okay, that hand-shaking bit was pathetic as well, but I was drunk, what do you expect?

Yes, I'll answer that one. Expect myself without my shyness, jumping in through windows (or aerators, while pretending that I was an unleashed Xenomorph), stepping besides and talking to people, celebs, hawt chix, former teachers, wasted, lonely drunk guys.

Also, while I was talking to a girl who learns French I came to realize that I know what the phrase "la mer" means. Literally, it's "the sea" and is also the title of a beautiful song by Nine Inch Nails, with very few lyrics, in French. (And obviously that's not Trent "Gawd" Reznor's voice you can hear on the record.) Another funny realization is that the French title of my all-time favourite movie, JAWS is Les Dents de la Mer, which means "The Teeth of the Sea". Groovy. So much more original than the Hungarian translation.

And speaking of favourite things, imagine what I was feeling when after Smells Like Teen Spirit (Cobain-wannabe companion, remember?) the jukebox started to play friggin' Defy You by The Offspring. Their best song. My favourite. Ever. Nothing surpasses it. Hearing it in a public place... damn. With these videolinks I can't let you feel the feelings I felt last night. I don't think you could even imagine it, my friend. Having a good time while little things make you happy, that's my post's point today. It's something you have to experience.

Now, before my blog grows a way too positive mood, here are the sad things:

My dad is on his way back to the UK.

Yesterday we should've taken The Fuck You Man with us.

Today my head hurts like hell.

)-: Would someone just kill meeee...? :-(

And how's it going with you?

Any Questions?

I'm back with a vengeance and a working PC, yay.

Just like last time we met, I can tell that today I tortured myself with a pretty good run and a workout session, about as long as the second half (speaking in nineties/MC fashion: the B-side) of Americana. I'm slowly floating towards complete exhaustion, yet the only thing I want to do is rollin', rollin', rollin' like a ball, jumping from rooftops and to beat shit up. Well, these aren't an "only thing", yeah. But I want do them all night long, I suspect partly because I've witnessed an hour long Bayonetta gameplay - get it? I wasn't even playing the thing but it gave me a long-term adrenaline rush - and partly because of Hollywood.

Movies are legal drugs, my friend. I mean, they take us to places. Good and bad ones, they all make us think, feel and even daydream. About attending to an acting school, killing some screenwriters, buying a camera, or jumping off rooftops and beating up shi... eh, I hope you got the point. What I actually wanted to let you know in this post's glorious fuzziness is that I saw the trailer for the film adaptation of the Scott Pilgrim comic books. Here it is:

I can't really decide if this is something very-very fun and cool, or the preview of this year's worst movie. It might be both. But that's not the point. The point is, I'm acting like a mouse on steroids, and I want to fight the world, just like this Scott guy.

Also, I could use some Diet Coke.

Any Questions?

Now You're a Man

What is the worst possible way to start blogging? Maybe killing your Windows comes close. It's a shame, but thanks to a system-reinstallation-goes-wrong scenario, I'm here without internet access and a functioning PC. Congrats, dear Micro-J.

I'd be cutting my wrists right now (or just drinking myself to death, who knows) if I wasn't living with minimal or without any online activity in the past five months. Err, no. I just like to overdramatize things. Hopefully my computer will be alright within days.

By the way I'm writing from my pal Mykee's place right now. We want to be fit, sexy and dangerous for the summer (could I sound any more homoerotic than this?), so we were jogging today and now torturing ourselves with anything that's good for the stomach. This song gives us inspiration.

Rock on, dudes. See ya soon.

Face Me

Longing to seem interesting, funny, instantly and insanely likable, we always waste too much time and energy with composing a nice introduction that we can say or write to random people. Most of the time they hardly care about what we say, but hey, we love to talk about ourselves. Maybe we should shoot a cheeky introduction-bomb every morning to our reflection in the mirror. (You know what? Starting tomorrow, I will do that.)

Point is, I'm no exception, but I like to keep things simple. I don't want to bore anyone, you see. So, instead of building up the Great Wall of Blogland, I'll just rip off the idea of Mykee and Faust, and post this visual guide to my fantastic life:


Groovy, isn't it?

One other thing you should know about me (if you are reading this, you possibly noticed it already) is that my English sucks, even though I just finished spending five months in Great-Britain. If you see a mindblowingly horrible grammatical screw up in my posts, please let me know about it. Feel free to comment, laugh at me, call me anything, I don't mind as long as you actually help me getting better with this foreign-language-blogging.

It's not just a hobby, you know. It's the thing some people got instead of a life.

Hooker

looks like i've got a blog.

yay.

seems like i don't have any coke at home.

damn.

--

and since i didn't use any capitals, you can't really tell which coke i was referring to, and without actually noticing it you start to wonder what kind of a person i am. this is my very first post's hook. hooked on my blog, you became interested in me, no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

congratulations, friend.

welcome to my life.