<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074</id><updated>2011-09-30T02:06:15.062-03:00</updated><category term='Benji Gregory'/><category term='enfermedad'/><category term='Teclado'/><category term='joven'/><category term='Relationships'/><category term='black'/><category term='Buenos Aires Roller Derby'/><category term='Significado'/><category term='ABBA'/><category term='The Mighty Book'/><category term='cagada'/><category term='zombies'/><category term='Holland Keyboard Girls'/><category term='white'/><category term='Grease'/><category term='First times'/><category term='First Kiss'/><category term='Job'/><category term='Remera'/><category term='Martin Luther King'/><category term='Sailor City Rollers'/><category term='Bebe Gordo'/><category term='Sueños'/><category term='River Phoenixxx'/><category term='Marmota'/><category term='shitty poetry'/><category term='Gente'/><category term='Drew Barrimore'/><category term='video'/><category term='Laptop'/><category term='dating'/><category term='lecturas'/><category term='River Phoenix'/><category term='Cine'/><category term='San Isidro'/><category term='Estudiantes'/><category term='Lux Interior'/><category term='Galera'/><category term='The Beatles'/><category term='Francis Ford Coppola'/><category term='poesia'/><category term='Space Jam'/><category term='intensos'/><category term='Starbucks'/><category term='Peanuts'/><category term='Freud?'/><category term='Ellen Page'/><category term='Bufanda'/><category term='Kathleen Turner'/><category term='Jebediah Springfield'/><category term='Navidad'/><category term='Nicolas Cage'/><category term='Mind'/><category term='Life'/><category term='Helen Hunt'/><category term='doctora'/><category term='Quentin Tarantino'/><category term='holidays'/><category term='Feminidad'/><category term='Yo lirico'/><category term='Love'/><category term='Complete Lyrics'/><category term='transito lento'/><category term='Saturday Night'/><category term='Disturbios'/><category term='Bully Chicks'/><category term='Niños Jugando'/><category term='Psycho Rollers'/><category term='Fotografia'/><category term='Comida Abundante'/><category term='Hugh Laurie'/><category term='muerte'/><category term='Cat'/><category term='Zara'/><category term='Partituras Gratis'/><category term='Summer'/><category term='vecina'/><category term='X-Files'/><category term='Non-Castrated'/><category term='Riots'/><category term='Max Wright'/><category term='Cole Porter'/><category term='Kevin J. O&apos; Connor'/><category term='Partituras'/><category term='Heroes'/><category term='Dad'/><category term='Elton John'/><category term='Greece'/><category term='Harry Potter'/><category term='Firsts'/><category term='Sofia Coppola'/><category term='night life'/><category term='Jurassic Park'/><category term='Granada de Mano'/><category term='Whip It'/><category term='Fantasmas'/><category term='muestra'/><category term='Universidad'/><category term='horrid places'/><category term='Roxy'/><category term='arte'/><category term='Keyboard Cat'/><category term='Taller 4'/><category term='movie line'/><category term='Have fun...Play the piano'/><category term='Rave'/><category term='Siesta'/><category term='yogurt'/><category term='CBC'/><category term='Obama'/><category term='Incomformismo'/><category term='Celulares'/><category term='Cat Calendars'/><category term='ALF'/><category term='Bad Cat'/><category term='Reunion'/><category term='Flora intestinal'/><category term='medicina'/><category term='Facebook'/><category term='Mozart'/><category term='infarto'/><category term='Schroeder'/><category term='bob hope'/><category term='Crack'/><category term='Homosexuality'/><category term='Internet'/><category term='infancia'/><category term='Irony'/><category term='Sad story'/><category term='Gaseosa'/><category term='Laser'/><category term='booze'/><category term='Will Tanner'/><category term='Jim Carrey'/><category term='Anything Goes'/><category term='Kitten'/><category term='Keyboard Grrl'/><category term='Roller Derby'/><category term='mujeres'/><category term='Preadolescentes'/><category term='Simpsons'/><category term='Pochoclo'/><category term='Cattitude'/><category term='Barry Miller'/><category term='Vespa'/><category term='UBA'/><category term='Capitan Aldo Garrido'/><category term='Kitty'/><category term='Grecia'/><category term='Inglorious Basterds'/><category term='Musica'/><category term='Simbolos'/><category term='Star Wars'/><category term='Gorundhog Day'/><category term='Piano'/><category term='Sibblings'/><title type='text'>Frenchy Bastarrd</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>29</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-2937196272668452665</id><published>2011-09-28T13:51:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T15:09:32.829-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>I hate dating</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gBqcjpB9lUw/ToNc-OYU0tI/AAAAAAAAAEw/uENQlj3V5Xk/s1600/date.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gBqcjpB9lUw/ToNc-OYU0tI/AAAAAAAAAEw/uENQlj3V5Xk/s400/date.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657467780989244114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;People usually asks me why I dont date more, since I'm a good-looking, smart and funny girl. "Aggie you gotta go out to the worrrld, gurl! Experience life! There are tons of boys who would love to date you!" This aint me talking, my self-esteem aint that good all the time, this is my friends, my granny, my dad, even guys talking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;So, last night, talking to a friend I once dated, I was telling him about a guy who asked me out 5 years ago and found me again via Facebook. Thing is five years ago I thought he was really good-looking but also a douche. He says he was stupid back then, and I kinda forgot why wouldnt I go out with him except that I have huge trust issues. But then talking to the guy, I remembered we had huge differences while talking about art (I met him at a museum) and then talking about life in general, I was white and he was black every single time, which is fine, but I remember talking to him 5 years ago and he was kinda annoying when we didnt agree. Anyway, that could lead to marriage or hatred during the first date and me not wanting to see him ever again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;But, ANYWAY, thing is, most of the times, I dont date because:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;- Dating makes me nervous. I feel like a product I'm trying to sell and I feel the other person is going through the same, and I also feel like Simon at American Idol judging the other person's every tiny characteristic and I suppose the other person is doing the exact same thing with me while trying to look relaxed and comfortable with the whole situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;- I do NOT enjoy chit chat. Sometimes I chit chat, but like... With old people. Old people love chit chat, dont know why, maybe cause there isnt much going on in their lives, I dont know, maybe they dont read books anymore nor use the internet. Girls love chit chat. Sometimes chit chat with girls can be fun. No, sorry, chit chat aint fun, chit chat is fun when it leads to gossip and that only happens with girls and with my boy friends who are kind of like a girl when it comes to gossipping although they are not gay. So, finding a subject to talk about, sometimes can be really hard, and I don't enjoy talking just for the sake of talking, nor I enjoy having to put effort in it and try to find a cool, interesting subject to talk about. I sometimes think people might think im a bit weird so I try to water down my opinions like, I wont say Id eat a baby if my plane crashes on some island and I survive, but I think I would. And I wouldnt say I like guys in uniforms, specially sailors or nazi uniforms. The nazi thing shocks people sometimes but... Come on! Hugo Boss, anyone? Sometimes I do say it 'cause as some guy said, I'm a bit of a firecracker.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;- Money. Im usually kind of broke from being young and in college and a tad unemployed, so I went out with this guy who was better off economically than me. We went to Mc D's and he payed, OK. But then he also wanted to go to Starbucks. I didnt want to go to Starbucks and I didnt want to spend the money I had for that day on Starbucks, but I did. I know I should've had money for the date, but I only dated once before that and the guy made the date pretty cheap that time, so I didnt get worried about the money thing and also I didnt ant to as kmy dad for money for a date. Also, the guy said something like "who knew you'd get a boyfriend at Starbucks?" that did it. I didnt go out with him again. We chatted. I think he didnt like me as well cause he didnt ask me out again or maybe I'm just weird when I chat and he got the 'I-wont-go-out-with-you-again' vibes. I dont know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;- And, more importantly, I do not date 'cause who would do something they don't like with someone they don't know if they like? I know dates are for finding out if you like each other and blah blah but usually when I see a boy I like, I know I like him right away. Otherwise, it means I'm just not that into him. It doesnt matter if he's a douche, if he's super drunk at the time, If I like him, I'd like him right away at any kind of situation, I just work like that. I see lots of people letting love for another person "grow" like, making an effort to like/love someone. Why would I do that? I prefer to be alone or have tons of cats than bringin someone in my life for the sake of having someone in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;- Also, dating can be fun and sometimes you gotta push yourself to do things that make you uncomfortable, so it's not like I'm a social narrow-minded freak. So take a leap of faith..? That just sounds shitty, sorry. Do whatever the fuck you want. &amp;lt;3&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/8248747596109140074-2937196272668452665?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/2937196272668452665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=2937196272668452665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/2937196272668452665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/2937196272668452665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-hate-dating.html' title='I hate dating'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gBqcjpB9lUw/ToNc-OYU0tI/AAAAAAAAAEw/uENQlj3V5Xk/s72-c/date.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-6139105380088553446</id><published>2011-09-21T23:03:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T23:11:33.019-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Girly Shit</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oc0WKfBjWFo/TnqYQsVthKI/AAAAAAAAAEo/XYHIZo297CY/s1600/audrey_hepburn.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 327px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oc0WKfBjWFo/TnqYQsVthKI/AAAAAAAAAEo/XYHIZo297CY/s400/audrey_hepburn.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654999694664631458" /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;oh gee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;this friend complaining about the fact that she hasnt fucked with her new bf who is also her best friend in 2 days&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;seriously?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;2 days? try a month or more with a guy who u r falling for but doesnt want a relationship with u&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;damn, ppl and its stupid dramas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;i wanna fuck&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;why doesnt he fuck me? do i have to txt him everytime? does he fucks lots of other girls? cause i dont think so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;im so pissed at the world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;its spring day here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;i hate spring day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;as much as valentine's day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;even more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; "  &gt;cause at least in valentines, i can laugh at stupid bfs going nuts buying stupid presents for sex&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/8248747596109140074-6139105380088553446?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/6139105380088553446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=6139105380088553446' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/6139105380088553446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/6139105380088553446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2011/09/girly-shit.html' title='Girly Shit'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oc0WKfBjWFo/TnqYQsVthKI/AAAAAAAAAEo/XYHIZo297CY/s72-c/audrey_hepburn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-7191571569199975818</id><published>2011-08-19T14:46:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T16:53:58.118-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freud?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sueños'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='intensos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hugh Laurie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='arte'/><title type='text'>Mis suenios de esta semana</title><content type='html'>Esta semana estuve durmiendo muy mal y teniendo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;sueños&lt;/span&gt; tan intensos que cuando me levantaba estaba aturdida y cansada.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;El primer &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sueño&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;así&lt;/span&gt; de intenso se dio en realidad hace &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;aproximadamente&lt;/span&gt; dos semanas. Yo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;vivía&lt;/span&gt; en un suburbio onda &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;yankee&lt;/span&gt; y mi amigo me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;decia&lt;/span&gt; que uno de sus amigos se &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;había&lt;/span&gt; muerto, a quien &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;habíamos&lt;/span&gt; visto la noche anterior. Yo no le &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;creia&lt;/span&gt; porque todos actuaban normal. Luego prendo la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; y esta la foto de perfil de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; (ni siquiera una foto suya) en una esquina de la pantalla. Aparentemente se &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;había&lt;/span&gt; convertido en actor y yo lo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;desconocía&lt;/span&gt;. Todo el &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;día&lt;/span&gt; pasaron reportajes y entrevistas a el en la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;tele&lt;/span&gt;. Yo lloraba desconsolada. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Rarisimo&lt;/span&gt;. Porque no lo conozco &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;practicamente&lt;/span&gt;. Luego logre que mi amigo se quebrara y llorara &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;también&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;jaja&lt;/span&gt;. Y me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;desperté&lt;/span&gt; tan angustiada como en el &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;sueño&lt;/span&gt; y cansada como si hubiese estado llorando un &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;día&lt;/span&gt; entero.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;El siguiente &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;sueño&lt;/span&gt; lo tuve hace dos noches. Yo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;volvía&lt;/span&gt; a mi primaria, claro que en el &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;sueño&lt;/span&gt; se &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;veía&lt;/span&gt; distinta. Y como ese &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;día&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;había&lt;/span&gt; estado cambiando el fondo de pantalla de mi computadora, en el &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;sueño&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;podía&lt;/span&gt; cambiar el &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;diseño&lt;/span&gt; del piso del colegio. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Había&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;ex&lt;/span&gt; profesores y &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;demás&lt;/span&gt;. Luego voy a un lugar donde hay un gran nogal y entre las &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;raíces&lt;/span&gt; se formaba como un circulo enorme donde te &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;podías&lt;/span&gt; sentar. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Ahí&lt;/span&gt; estaba uno de mis &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;ex&lt;/span&gt; profesores, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Hugh&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Laurie&lt;/span&gt;. Si, no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;repressentaba&lt;/span&gt; a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;ningún&lt;/span&gt; otro profesor, solo era un profesor. Me contaba que su mujer (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;Cuddy&lt;/span&gt; en &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;Dr&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;House&lt;/span&gt;) estaba embarazada. Se notaba que el tenia dudas respecto a esa &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;relación&lt;/span&gt;. Mi hermana &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;empezó&lt;/span&gt; a comer nueces y me dio una. Las nueces eran muy raras. Eran enormes y les sacabas la cascara y &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;tenían&lt;/span&gt; una capa que se &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;comía&lt;/span&gt; muy rica y luego muchas nueces tipo avellanas adentro pero sin cascara del mismo sabor que la capa anterior que se &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;comía&lt;/span&gt;. Es raro, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;debería&lt;/span&gt; dibujarlo. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;Cuestión&lt;/span&gt; que termino "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;cuddling&lt;/span&gt;" con mi &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;ex&lt;/span&gt;-profesor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55"&gt;Hugh&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56"&gt;Laurie&lt;/span&gt; y comiendo nueces hasta que viene mi papa a buscarnos a mi hermana y a mi y se sorprende que este en tal &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57"&gt;situación&lt;/span&gt; con mi profesor pero no hace nada al respecto. Fin. Un &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58"&gt;wet&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59"&gt;dream&lt;/span&gt; bastante inocente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anoche, luego de una noche de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60"&gt;Absolut&lt;/span&gt; libre, y dormir con frío porque me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62"&gt;acosté&lt;/span&gt; cubierta por mi toalla &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63"&gt;húmeda&lt;/span&gt; y el pelo mojado y con dolor de panza (el vodka nunca me sienta demasiado bien), tuve una pesadilla y un &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64"&gt;wet&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65"&gt;dream&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;El primero era muy raro, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66"&gt;estábamos&lt;/span&gt; con mi mama, mi papa y mi hermana, primero estaba sola en un pueblo que &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67"&gt;parecía&lt;/span&gt; que tenia zombie apocalipsis. Pero no, solo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68"&gt;había&lt;/span&gt; un par de negros no muy amigables por lo que tenia que huir, luego encuentro en un bote a mi familia. E &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69"&gt;íbamos&lt;/span&gt; recorriendo un &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70"&gt;rió&lt;/span&gt; entre botes y todo era muy raro y terminaba en una escalera que iba a nuestra supuesta casa. Y &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71"&gt;teníamos&lt;/span&gt; muchas obras de arte muy caras y buenas y mis padres comenzaron a pelear y mi madre &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_72"&gt;rompía&lt;/span&gt; un &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_73"&gt;montón&lt;/span&gt; de esculturas y cuadros geniales y yo me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_74"&gt;ponía&lt;/span&gt; a llorar agarrando un pedazo de una de mis esculturas favoritas. Y bueno, claramente tiene que ver con la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_75"&gt;separación&lt;/span&gt; de mis padres.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;El siguiente &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_76"&gt;sueño&lt;/span&gt; fue en una fiesta y el chico que me gusta me terminaba diciendo de irme a la casa con el. Todo se daba de manera &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_77"&gt;extraña&lt;/span&gt;, onda me iba a buscar &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_78"&gt;específicamente&lt;/span&gt; hasta esa fiesta o algo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_79"&gt;así&lt;/span&gt; medio &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_80"&gt;romanticon&lt;/span&gt; barato pero sin final &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_81"&gt;romántico&lt;/span&gt;, porque solo me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_82"&gt;decía&lt;/span&gt; de ir a la casa, no es que nos &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_83"&gt;íbamos&lt;/span&gt; en un carruaje y me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_84"&gt;pedía&lt;/span&gt; casamiento (por suerte). Pero no estuvo bueno darse cuenta de que era un &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_85"&gt;sueño&lt;/span&gt; y que no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_86"&gt;había&lt;/span&gt; sucedido...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;En fin, fueron todos &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_87"&gt;sueños&lt;/span&gt; que &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_88"&gt;sentí&lt;/span&gt; muy intensos y que, salvo el de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_89"&gt;Hugh&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_90"&gt;Laurie&lt;/span&gt;, no fueron mucho de mi agrado e hicieron que me despertara muy cansada &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_91"&gt;física&lt;/span&gt; y mentalmente aun habiendo dormido bastante. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_92"&gt;Quizás&lt;/span&gt; debo empezar a dormir menos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-7191571569199975818?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/7191571569199975818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=7191571569199975818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/7191571569199975818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/7191571569199975818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2011/08/mis-suenios-de-esta-semana.html' title='Mis suenios de esta semana'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-8065901542579849012</id><published>2011-08-17T16:04:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-17T16:40:11.352-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yo lirico'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poesia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muestra'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lecturas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='arte'/><title type='text'>Las lecturas deberían estar prohibidas...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;No soy muy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fan&lt;/span&gt; de las lecturas, pero tenia ganas de ir a una muestra de arte (ya saben, alcohol gratis y esas cosas). Aparte quedaba a cuadras de lo de mi abuela y yo ya estaba ahí, así que concrete cita con una amiga/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ex&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;comp&lt;/span&gt; de trabajo y luego de pasear un poco por la la plaza de Juramento, donde había un tipo que hacia girar platos sobre varillas sostenidas por tres nenas hermosas, fuimos. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;El lugar de la muestra era genial, porque era una galería al aire libre, y a mi me encantan las galerías al aire libre. Me hace acordar a cuando iba a hacer tiempo entre el colegio y mi clase de gimnasia o ingles y almorzaba en una galería que se llama &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Queen&lt;/span&gt;'s &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Village&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Gallery&lt;/span&gt; en el centro de San Isidro, la cual todos llaman "la galería de madera" porque tiene arquitectura de estilo normando. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;La librería donde se llevaba a cabo la muestra, PAN Libros, era pequeña y hermosa. Llena de geniales ediciones de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;liros&lt;/span&gt; que no se suelen encontrar en cualquier lado y en su defecto, el precio de los mismos acompañaba. 90 pesos por &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Catcher&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;In&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;The&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Rye&lt;/span&gt;? En serio? Otros libros si tenían un precio mas razonable acorde a la edición y encuadernación y tema.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;En el evento habían prometido &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;fanzines&lt;/span&gt;... No había mucho de eso salvo una edición de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;fanzines&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;de la&lt;/span&gt; muestra en si con una fotocopia de los cuadros expuestos y lo leído en la misma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;El &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;menú &lt;/span&gt; consistía de te, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;brownies&lt;/span&gt; y vino... Y elegí las ultimas dos opciones obviamente!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Comenzaron las lecturas entonces, ya de noche. Una insegura blogger con un &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;kindle&lt;/span&gt; leyendo directo de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt;, diciendo que nunca había leído antes, que iba a leer mal, que no veía nada donde estaba. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Leyó &lt;/span&gt; pésimo. No se si era bueno lo que leía, seguro que no, pero su lectura lo empeoro aun mas.  Lo peor de todo fue cuando se dispuso a ir a un lugar con mayor luz, que estaba AL LADO MIO. La &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;mort&lt;/span&gt;. Simule escuchar con atención y cuando finalmente termino, me recluí en la librería a ver libros de fotografía y no escuche a nadie mas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;El problema de las lecturas es que quizás el material es bueno, pero al leerlo el mismo que lo escribió, queda arruinado. Yo creo que el problema de eso reside en que lo leen ellos como personas y no como el yo lírico del texto. No entiendo como no pueden separar eso. Una vez en la poesía, la persona deja de ser el individuo que la escribió por mas personal que sea lo escrito, es un ente aparte del escriba y no debe ser leído con la carga de la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55"&gt;persona que&lt;/span&gt; lo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56"&gt;escribió&lt;/span&gt; y sus &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57"&gt;inseguridades&lt;/span&gt; y temores sino con la carga del yo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58"&gt;lírico&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59"&gt;únicamente&lt;/span&gt;. Creo que es por esto que las lecturas de gente con poca experiencia fallan. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Luego &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60"&gt;están&lt;/span&gt; los que leen hace tiempo, pero lo hacen desde esa &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61"&gt;posición&lt;/span&gt; "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62"&gt;arty&lt;/span&gt;" y soberbia del "yo, artista" y es por esto que, no solo fallan sino que terminan siendo molestos al escucharlos. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Por eso resulta tanto mejor cuando uno como simple receptor lee, por mas que no sepa leer tan bien ese genero literario, o alguien que si sabe leer el genero pero no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63"&gt;escribió&lt;/span&gt; esa obra. Esas personas suelen darle la carga del yo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64"&gt;lírico&lt;/span&gt; y no la propia de la persona, como una profesora que anoche nos &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65"&gt;leyó&lt;/span&gt; algo de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66"&gt;Paul&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67"&gt;Celan&lt;/span&gt; y fue &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68"&gt;increíble&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Otra cosa que detesto es la gente que lee con demasiada velocidad la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69"&gt;poesía&lt;/span&gt;. No me da tiempo a introducirme en ella. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Los &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70"&gt;únicos&lt;/span&gt; artistas que pueden leer lo propio es gente que realmente sabe de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71"&gt;poesía&lt;/span&gt; o que simplemente sabe bien disociarse a si mismo como artista del yo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_72"&gt;lírico&lt;/span&gt;, y creo que esas deben ser las mejores lecturas. Aun no me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_73"&gt;sucedió&lt;/span&gt; de escuchar a alguien &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_74"&gt;así&lt;/span&gt;, porque siempre prefiero leer yo, ya que suelo empezar a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_75"&gt;soñar&lt;/span&gt; despierta y perderme cuando otro me lee. &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/8248747596109140074-8065901542579849012?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/8065901542579849012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=8065901542579849012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/8065901542579849012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/8065901542579849012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2011/08/las-lecturas-deberian-estar-prohibidas.html' title='Las lecturas deberían estar prohibidas...'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-3258139866060696886</id><published>2011-07-05T04:21:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T04:55:49.048-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sad story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='River Phoenix'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kitten'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Irony'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='River Phoenixxx'/><title type='text'>Irony Runs My Life (Or my mind runs my life with constant irony)</title><content type='html'>Thanks to my former job, I found, by chance, my kitten. I was hoping to have and find a homeless kitten for so long, and after more than two years of my previous amazing cat, Luna's death, I found it. I was walking around my former office's neighborhood with a co-worker, we used to go out and smoke a joint eery now and then. And, all of a sudden, a front yard full of playful kittens! I was looking for a black cat, but it was love at first sight with this champagne coloured kitten. A week later, I found the owner home and took him with me. Named him River Phoenixxx cause to me he looked like the actor (yeh, Im aware he was a cat, ok?). For some reason, I knew he was going to fill my life of joy, I needed to show love to a furry ball that wouldnt complain (much) about it. Also, I wanted it to purr a lot. So And, also, for some reason I thought Id have him for 1 year and a half. I dont know if it happened because I thought it would, or if I knew it would happen because I have such a good instinct or Im a psychich or whatever. All I wanted was to quit my job so I would have more time at home and to enjoy my cat. He was the best cat in the whole world. So, as soon as I quit my job, he leaves. Cats always leave, sometimes for months, specially if they are male and non-castrated. I went to Uruguay for 10 days. I knew he'd be back. And he was back when I was back, but also, he was really ill. He had a urinary infection. I was staying at my mum's and no one told me what was going on, finally, after 3 days, my dad told me and I went home right away. He had been taking care of him all those days, taking him to the vet, paying a hundred pesos a day and all. Wednesday he was doing so much better. Thursday, I stayed home with him, all I wanted to do was to hold him, he was so swallen, he was always going to the videt cause he was peeing but it was so hard for him and he was so tidy and clean, more than I am... I knew I had to take him to the vet, and I asked a boy I used to date if he could take me. He said yes but that he was really busy so better if I found somebody else. So, out of my stupid pride, I didnt ask him. And I left for class. I left my cat alone, there, in pain. When I got back, my dad had already took him to the vet and left him there. In the morning, I was awaked by my dad just saying "Agos..." and he just started to cry, he felt like such a failure cause he couldnt save him. Thing is, all I wanted was time to be with him, and once I got time, he was gone. None of my pets' deaths affected me as much as this one cause I miss him all the fraking time and sometimes I think I see him but he's not there and now all the other cats from the neighborhood come to my lawn to hang out, and I try to feed them like a lonely granny but they just run away. The worst thing was to bury him. I hate that everything I love ends up covered by mud.  He was still warm and soft. I wrote some nice messages in the cloth we put him in, I cut some of his Squirrel Tail fur (which I keep) and just couldnt stop caressing him, till my dad had to go to work and I didnt want to do it by myself, so we buried him. I miss his squirrel tail so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-3258139866060696886?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/3258139866060696886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=3258139866060696886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/3258139866060696886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/3258139866060696886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2011/07/irony-runs-my-life-or-my-mind-runs-my.html' title='Irony Runs My Life (Or my mind runs my life with constant irony)'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-7271632943525854580</id><published>2011-06-02T12:47:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T13:49:20.461-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Firsts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='First Kiss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='First times'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Simpsons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer'/><title type='text'>First Kiss</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-toRN63fV39Y/Tee_AEI_6kI/AAAAAAAAAEU/nztfeww1zdQ/s1600/first_kiss.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-toRN63fV39Y/Tee_AEI_6kI/AAAAAAAAAEU/nztfeww1zdQ/s400/first_kiss.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613665468373002818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My mum, her husband, my sis and I were watching Simpsons. It was that episode where Bart's class has to share the clasroom with the other second grade, which they knew nothing about. So Bart sits next to this girl who kind of reminds me of me in High School. So they start to hang out and skate, and one day, following his grandpa's advice, Bart kisses her. And she goes all "Eeeewwwwww Bart Simpson KISSED me! And now that'll be my first kiss FOREVER!" So they put this "No Touching" rule at school and they put posters on the walls that says "Coootiiieeesss!" or "Alaska Nebraska yadda yadda".&lt;div&gt;Anyway, my mum goes: "Why is the first kiss so important? I dont think it is, I dont even remember who was my first kiss." And I say that I of course remember my first kiss (it was only six years ago but I dont think Ill ever forget, not because it was good, nor bad, just because I know Ill remember, mainly because it was summer and there's not much going on during summer when you're a kid). Nobody asked, but my sister surely remembers because she is only thirteen and it was 2 years ago top, dont know if it was french kissing though. Does it count if its not french kissing? So my mum keeps saying: "I still dont get why is it such a big deal, its just a kiss...Honey (refering to her husband), do you remember your first kiss?" So my mum's husband starts saying the he was just a kid, he was 12 or 14, dont really remember right now. Maybe because I interrupted and said: "Aha! You know why is it so important? What did you just ask him? About his first kiss! You didnt ask him about the second, or the third, or any other kiss, you asked him about his first kiss! Touche."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And that's why its so important, because everybody asks about the first, and that's the story you'll be telling forever, you can tell about other memorable kisses, yes, but people wont ask you about it, you're going to tell people about it yourself. And you cant make-up some story about a first kiss 'cause thats just stupid, so you gotta take what you got. So, everybody, please stop asking about people's first times on anything, just ask about the best time on anything? Yeh, not so funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So if you're wondering, my first kiss was at the end of my 14th summer. Had this really nice summer in my neighborhood, where I still live because I love it and because Id hate to live alone or in the city or both. So I had this two girlfriends. We biked from our houses to a municipal sports club all summer and met some guys there and we were all friends and would hang out in the pool or around the place, and of course there was the prettiest guy there who afterwards went to my highschool where I didnt think he was that pretty. And we had this friend, who one of my friends and I liked, and he knew it. Everybody did. So he kinda had to choose. I wanted him to choose me because I hadn't kissed a boy my whole life and I kinda wanted to experience that once and for all. So it took a while, but I "won" and got my first french kiss. I didnt know what to do at first, I thought it was going to be standing, kinda savage cause we were surrounded by trees and all, but it wasnt. He told me to sit down and then we just kissed for a while and I remember thinking: "Is this it? Really? This is boring...When is this going to end?" And after around 5 minutes, it finished. And my first kiss was over and I was glad it was and glad I had dealt with it. That was the only time we kissed. He was my friend's boyfriend by fall, and I was glad he chose me in the summer because I did not want him as a boyfriend. I met him last year at the bust stop, he recognised me, I took a while before figuring out it was him, and since we live nearby talked for a while on the bus. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Summer is such a perfect time because we get to show skin, relax and lose a bit of control, which we can during winter, but water seems to control me, and by the beach or a pool, I find people better looking and nicer. Also, I feel joyful and happy and smiling and joking and wanting to do stuff al fresco all the time. Also I drink more. And the best thing is that you know when summer's over, you wont keep on seeing that crush or that boy you had something with, and its perfect, because both of you get the best of each other, not to be ruined by the crankyness and boredom and complications of daily life routine. Or maybe, you both want to keep "summering" so you are all fun during winter trying to keep summer alive. Never happened yet. Should try that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-7271632943525854580?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/7271632943525854580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=7271632943525854580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/7271632943525854580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/7271632943525854580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2011/06/first-kiss.html' title='First Kiss'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-toRN63fV39Y/Tee_AEI_6kI/AAAAAAAAAEU/nztfeww1zdQ/s72-c/first_kiss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-8417247913903403783</id><published>2011-05-31T04:03:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T05:16:54.380-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sailor City Rollers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bully Chicks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellen Page'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Buenos Aires Roller Derby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drew Barrimore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Saturday Night'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Whip It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Psycho Rollers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Roxy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Roller Derby'/><title type='text'>Whip It Good!</title><content type='html'>Stayed in Friday, and I was craving for a night out. Sometimes I get homie for about a month and dont mind at all staying in watching movies and eps of my favourite shows and just going out to the movies, theatre or eating. BUT, time had come and I needed to party.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Went to a bar near home to meet a friend, then convinced her to come to this Roller Derby party at Roxy. I really dig Roller Derby and the Facebook event said I was in for some live Roller Derby and nice merchandising. I was hoping to see my Argie Roller Derby team, the Bully Chicks, and probably, also buy a t-shirt of the team. Neither of those things happened.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We arrived holding our breath because we didnt have money for the $30 entry and the list was open till 1.30 AM. We were there late, but got in for free anyway (I wouldnt have paid for that). At the entry this Roller Derby girls were giving lollipops and candy. I could only stare at the Derby Girls with their hideous customes...They had this fluorescent wigs and outfits, going around the place feeling like rockstars. I was trying to figure out if Bully Chicks were one of teams in costumes. And kind of hoped they werent. Had my friend asking one of the Sailor City team girls for the merchandising. The Sailor City seemed super excited. We went to see the merch, which consisted in lots of pins, rulem necklaces, white tee-shirts with the legends: ¨I (heart) Roller Derby" and "I (heart) Derby Girls", which I must say I sort of loved, but were $45 and, I dont know if thats ok for a t-shirt or not, but I wasnt willing to pay for that. The other thing was a Psycho Rollers team tee, so I asked if there were other teams' stuff and said "Do you have any Bully Chicks tees?" To which the girl in charge of the merch responded: "No, thats another league" And I was like: "ANOTHER league?" Howcome there are TWO leagues in one city were Roller Derby has just started? Sounds crazy to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some obvious but still fun and classic tunes were blasting at the place, till this awful rock-rockabilly looking-punk band jumped on stage. Luckily, Roxy has two dancefloors, so we headed to the other one after hearing to three songs of that band. Never knew how they were called. The other dance floor was more poppy/80s/90s, so at least we could have some girly fun. After a while there, my friend wanted to go to the toilet, and like the good girlfriend I am, went with her. Smell in there was hideous, so she didnt go, and the men toilet was guarded by a gorilla in black. Went back to the dance floor, and as Black Eyed Peas was the band of choice at the time, we headed to the now bandless dance floor, where they have more rock/80s(they always have 80s)/punkish music. The Clash, a classic indeed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, a woman on stage announced the Roller Derby girls and they all gathered to roll around holding each others' waists in a silly little round. No punching, no hardcore rolling, no blood, no shouting, just jolly girls in rollers feeling like their mum came to see their stupid little school act. That lasted about two songs, the third one, which was ACDC, they didnt know what to do anymore so they started jumping together. Some of them didnt know how to jump in rollers so just didnt jump or bended their knees to emulate the bouncing movement. It was a sad circus, if you ask me and thanked the lord I didnt find my team being part of it. Suddenly, Disco 2000 by Pulp started and all I could think about was me missing them at Primavera Sound 2011, where Pulp fans are more than truly grown, eleven years more than truly grown, to be exact. Im not, because they've met by the fountain years before when I became a fan. After a few more songs I knew by heart, I wanted to get the hell out of the nightmare caused by the Drew Barrimore/Ellen Page effect, so I reminded my friend she had work for college. She headed home. I headed to another party where nobody was a poser and booze was way cheaper. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-8417247913903403783?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/8417247913903403783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=8417247913903403783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/8417247913903403783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/8417247913903403783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2011/05/whip-it-good.html' title='Whip It Good!'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-8620181267892272477</id><published>2009-09-28T01:31:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T02:11:01.421-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Incomformismo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facebook'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CBC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Universidad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gente'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laptop'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='UBA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Internet'/><title type='text'>C'est Un Jour Comme Un Autre</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Hoy me pelee con el mundo, y hoy esto va a parecer mas un diario intimo que un blog, igual, el concepto de blog es algo tan universal que no importa lo que pongas &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;aquí&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Quizás&lt;/span&gt; alguien lo lea, o no. No importa en realidad si hay alguien del otro lado, yo estoy de mi otro lado, leyendo lo que escribo y &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;sintiéndome&lt;/span&gt; mejor con el solo hecho de hacer catarsis en este mundo intocable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Hoy me pelee con el mundo porque siento que doy ciertas cosas que pretendo &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;también&lt;/span&gt; recibir del otro, pero el otro parece no tener tiempo. No se, a veces expreso las cosas enmascaradas y alguien que me conoce se &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;daría&lt;/span&gt; cuenta, pero la gente en realidad no tiene ganas de molestarse y leer entre lineas, entonces toman la mascara y hacen de cuenta que prestaron &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;atención&lt;/span&gt;, pero no fue &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;así&lt;/span&gt; y te dicen cosas que dijeron mil veces a mil personas pero que a vos no te sirven y cuando te quejas simplemente te preguntan si nunca pensaste en ir al &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;psicólogo&lt;/span&gt;. Por &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;dior&lt;/span&gt;, es que acaso no ha escuchado nada jamas??? Acaso no sabe lo que opino de los &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;psicólogos&lt;/span&gt;? Y luego que no hago nada, y lo que hago lo hago sin ganas...YA. Lo que hago lo hago con ganas y por eso hago poco, porque si hiciera las otras cosas que "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;tendría&lt;/span&gt; que" hacer, las &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;haría&lt;/span&gt; sin ganas. Detesto a la gente que se cree realizada o superada porque van a la universidad, especialmente los de la &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;UBA&lt;/span&gt; tienen esa actitud, especialmente los que &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;están&lt;/span&gt; en el &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;CBC&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bolches&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;wannabe&lt;/span&gt; de mierda. No todos, estoy &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;generalizando&lt;/span&gt;, obvio. En fin, al parecer no es que la gente no quiera escuchar, es que tienen "otras cosas en la cabeza", "confusiones". &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Newsflash&lt;/span&gt;! Yo &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;también&lt;/span&gt; tengo mil cosas en la cabeza, desde que me tengo que bajar &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;True&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Blood&lt;/span&gt; y &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Gossip&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Girl&lt;/span&gt; hasta la &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;monografía&lt;/span&gt; que tengo que escribir para terminar el colegio de una puta vez pasando por "Que voy a comer hoy?" "Donde esta mi cuaderno de &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;francés&lt;/span&gt;?" "Que sera de mi en 10 años?". Y aun &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;así&lt;/span&gt;, creo que soy buena escuchando y leyendo entre lineas. No mando a nadie al &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;psicólogo&lt;/span&gt; porque me parece una actitud de mierda, y no digo que no puedo ver a alguien porque tengo clases de 7 a 12 y manicura de 14 a 14.30, porque se que tengo el resto del &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;día&lt;/span&gt; y puedo ver a esa persona, no me hago la conchuda con agenda llena, me parece una actitud muy de mierda que la gente hace muy seguido. No entiendo eso de verse una vez al año pero todo el &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_29" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;día&lt;/span&gt; en vez de verse mas seguido aunque sea una hora. No se, me causa &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_30" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;repulsión&lt;/span&gt; eso de la gente. Esto es de los tiempos modernos o antes &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_31" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;también&lt;/span&gt; pasaba?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Luego mi madre, que se queja si no voy a su casa, pero cuando estoy, la veo siempre prendida a la &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_32" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;laptop&lt;/span&gt;. Mi hermana, mi mama y el marido, los tres, en la mesa del comedor, con su &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_33" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;laptop&lt;/span&gt; delante de sus narices, jugando al p&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_34" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;oker&lt;/span&gt; en la misma mesa, o mi madre plantando zanahorias virtuales o trabajando en una fabrica de galletas virtual para decorar sus montones de propiedades, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_35" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;también&lt;/span&gt; virtuales. Y la gran &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_36" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;interacción&lt;/span&gt; que propone es que la ayude a elegir la cama para su dormitorio VIRTUAL. Por lo pronto, mi cabeza da mil vueltas porque no se a donde estudiar el año que viene, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_37" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;quizás&lt;/span&gt; en realidad me &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_38" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;gustaría&lt;/span&gt; entrar en cine, pero no tengo el dinero para pagarlo aun, ni un trabajo que me de esa cantidad de dinero. Y luego si es periodismo estoy &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_39" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;perdidisima&lt;/span&gt;, no se donde, no se que lugar es realmente bueno, nada me convence y no se ya a quien preguntar, no &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_40" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;confio&lt;/span&gt; en la &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_41" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;opinión&lt;/span&gt; de nadie. Y luego que &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_42" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;debería&lt;/span&gt; rendir &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_43" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;examenes&lt;/span&gt; de ingles y me &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_44" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;gustaría&lt;/span&gt; volver a tocar el teclado, pero tener un profesor y &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_45" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;también&lt;/span&gt; me &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_46" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;agradaría&lt;/span&gt; sacar la licencia para conducir, pero todo es mas y mas dinero. Mis padres me dicen todo el tiempo "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_47" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;tenes&lt;/span&gt; que &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_48" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;blah&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_49" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;blah&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_50" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;blah&lt;/span&gt;"...Si, lo se, yo &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_51" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;también&lt;/span&gt; quiero, pero no puedo hacer TODO eso y tener una fuente de ingresos para pagarlo al mismo tiempo, no me alcanzan las horas del &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_52" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;día&lt;/span&gt;! Soluciones jamas...A menos que tenga alguna casa en &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_53" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; para decorar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-8620181267892272477?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/8620181267892272477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=8620181267892272477' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/8620181267892272477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/8620181267892272477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/09/cest-un-jour-comme-un-autre.html' title='C&apos;est Un Jour Comme Un Autre'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-2360588454136821113</id><published>2009-09-19T03:01:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T03:47:27.455-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Granada de Mano'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Celulares'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inglorious Basterds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Harry Potter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pochoclo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gaseosa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quentin Tarantino'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Preadolescentes'/><title type='text'>My Own Private Movie Theatre</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Eso deseo!  Detesto el cine. Amo el cine, detesto el lugar. No el lugar, la gente. La gente me da ganas de vomitar. Dan ganas de incendiar el cine. Sobretodo un miercoles a la tarde durante las vacaciones de invierno.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Las dos ultimas veces que fui al cine (lo cual no sucede a menudo debido al precio y a que no me gusta desperdiciar ese dinero en cualquier peliculucha), no disfrute del todo la experiencia. Pero claro, fui en lo que es mas bien una rush hour del cine, pero sin darme cuenta y por pura ansiedad, realmente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;El problema principal son los pre-adolescentes o los nuevos adolescentes. Pareciera ser que no van al cine porque les gusta el cine, sino porque todo el mundo va al cine, hay que ir al cine, hay que ver tal pelicula, hay que comentarla. El problema de esa falta de interes es que los muy imbeciles se cagan en el resto de la gente que esta viendo la pelicula, basicamente (en mi opinion, no deberian permitirles la entrada en las funciones de la noche a los menores de 18, pero, esa es nada mas mi humilde e intolerante, quizas, opinion, pero que tiene sus fundamentos...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Siempre, pero SIEMPRE tienen el tacho de pochoclo y la gaseosa mas grande del universo y se encargan de hacerlo notar durante toda la puta pelicula. El final de la gaseosa! Bello momento si los hay...Ese adorable sonido que hace el aspirar, con los hielos, con el minimo, casi inexistente resto de gaseosa. Unico. Los pochoclos! Ha! Esos, esos jamas se terminan...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Pero lo de la comida es lo de menos, ellos en realidad no quieren estar ahi, ellos ya quieren estar afuera, entonces que hacen? Hacen, durante la pelicula, los planes para cuando salgan de la misma! Claro, ellos ponen su fantastico celular lleno de chiches inservibles en silencioso y asi mandan y responden mensajes, mientras uno se queda practicamente ciego con el brillo de esa mierda de tecnologia barata. Pero tan ansiosos estan por irse que no pueden callarse un segundo, no importa cuantas veces hagas "shhh", ellos piensan que despues de un minuto uno se olvida que ellos hablaron en algun momento, y simplemente vuelven a hacerlo, como si la propia memoria se reseteara durante el tan respetuoso momento de silencio. TAN ansiosos que podia sentir varias piernitas moviendose nerviosamente, como si alguien los obligara a estar ahi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Lo que mas me sorprendio igual, no fue hoy cuando vi Inglorious Basterds (Quentin I love you), sino cuando fui a ver la ultima de Harry Potter, uno pensaria que ahi estan en su salsa, pero al parecer ni siquiera el mago mas popular de nuestros tiempos los mantiene quietos por un par de horas. Claro, yo, no me di cuenta que con esto de la gripe porcina las vacaciones de invierno duraban una eternidad, y, por esas cosas de la vida, se me ocurrio ir un miercoles a la tarde en plenas vacaciones de invierno! Prefiero la muerte antes de que se me ocurra de nuevo un momento tan inoportuno! Eso era un festin de puberes...Yo no es que sea la persona mas madura, de hecho ni cerca, ni tengo mucha mas edad, pero creo que es un tema de educacion en general, y ya que todos son iguales...Todos se visten igual, cortan el pelo igual, peinan igual, piensan igual, asi como todos hacen exactamente lo mismo, todos son exactamente igual de maleducados. Aca todo era elevado a la maxima potencia. Claro, eran mayoria...No simplemente hacian notar que tenian el combo mas grande de pochoclos y gaseosa, no, comian como si se fuera a acabar el mundo con el final del film, no solo abrian sus celulares cada dos minutos, sino que tenian que cruzar toda la sala para mostrarle ese mensaje que seguramente cambio el mundo a otra pelotuda que seguramente no se pudo sentar al lado porque ahora las entradas volvieron a ser numeradas. La comodidad...Esencial! Tanto que no dudaban en apoyar los pies en nuestros respaldos y moverlos creando un armonioso movimiento de los mismos. Y no nos olvidemos de la charla...Ahora no se limitaba al grupo, ahora querian que toda la sala se entererara de su elocuencia, haciendo chistes, canchereando al burlarse cuando los famosos magos no comprendian que era un dentista..."Jo, pero estos donde viven?"...Okay, ehm, estas viendo Harry Potter, no es la primera pelicula de esta saga, no se, vos fijate antes de seguir diciendo tantas pelotudeces en tan corto intervalo de tiempo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Nonono, ese dia desee con toda mi alma tener una granada de mano y mi propio cine privado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-2360588454136821113?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/2360588454136821113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=2360588454136821113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/2360588454136821113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/2360588454136821113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-own-private-movie-theatre.html' title='My Own Private Movie Theatre'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-1956006350756507990</id><published>2009-06-18T03:26:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T03:45:09.180-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Keyboard Grrl'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bufanda'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Teclado'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Galera'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Peanuts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Musica'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Remera'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Have fun...Play the piano'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Piano'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Schroeder'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holland Keyboard Girls'/><title type='text'>Thank You For The Music!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Continuando con mi musicalidad de la fecha, mientras buscaba fotitos para mi anterior post encontre una ropita hermosa digna de ser vista y ser parte de una lista de MUSTS para mi B-Day hehe!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Empezamos con esta remerita hermosa con pajarillos, tecladito, guitarra y musica por doquier...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348550885905696658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 394px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SjnesWGCh5I/AAAAAAAAADk/tVqAMACAhIk/s400/HollandKeyboardTee.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Holland Keyboard Girls Tee @ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pinkghost.net/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;http://www.pinkghost.net&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;  !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Luego, para el invierno que esta a la vuelta de la esquina en el hemisferio sur, un hermoso accesorio...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348551941676277922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 312px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SjnfpzJXIKI/AAAAAAAAADs/7SVYxgWMemM/s400/schroeder-piano-scarf.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://store.drumbum.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;http://store.drumbum.com/&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt; For music lovers! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Y haciendo juego con nuestra divina bufandita...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348552686438087778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 312px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SjngVJmafGI/AAAAAAAAAD0/0V8oQ2Pw1_Q/s400/schroeder-piano-top-hat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://store.drumbum.com/media/schroeder-piano-top-hat.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;http://store.drumbum.com/media/schroeder-piano-top-hat.jpg&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Pret-a-porter para estar siempre elegantes y musicales! Ahora puedes llevar a Schroeder dondequiera que vayas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-1956006350756507990?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/1956006350756507990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=1956006350756507990' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/1956006350756507990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/1956006350756507990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/06/thank-you-for-music.html' title='Thank You For The Music!'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SjnesWGCh5I/AAAAAAAAADk/tVqAMACAhIk/s72-c/HollandKeyboardTee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-7748914069612442461</id><published>2009-06-18T02:36:00.008-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T03:26:18.424-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Keyboard Grrl'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Teclado'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Partituras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Peanuts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Star Wars'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ABBA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Have fun...Play the piano'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mozart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Piano'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Elton John'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Keyboard Cat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Beatles'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jurassic Park'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Space Jam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Partituras Gratis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grease'/><title type='text'>Keyboard Grrl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SjndD9OZ4GI/AAAAAAAAADc/NDhVhTSuxtU/s1600-h/keyboard-cat.png"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348549092523499618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SjndD9OZ4GI/AAAAAAAAADc/NDhVhTSuxtU/s320/keyboard-cat.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Estuve escuchando mucho ABBA estos dias...Basicamente porque para mi ABBA es igual a felicidad, felicidad facil y rapida y eso es exactamente lo que necesito hoy en dia...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Los que escucharon alguna vez ABBA y prestaron un poco de atencion, sabran que el piano es un instrumento muy importante en sus temas, como lo es tambien para mi. Fue asi entonces que decidi buscar partituras de ABBA around the web y me tope con este pequeño tesoro...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://partiturespiano2.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;http://partiturespiano2.blogspot.com&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Aqui podes encontrar desde los detestables Jonas Brothers hasta el maravilloso Mozart, pasando por Elton John y The Beatles. Tambien hay temas de pelis como Space Jam...Si, Space Jam, quien lo hubiese imaginado...Jurassic Park, Star Wars, Grease y cancioncillas navideñas. Hay para todos los gustos!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Mi emocion es tal debido a que generalmente piden dinerillo a cambio de las partituras y suelo encontrar solamente los putos acordes de guitarra, los cuales no me sirven por la manera en que aprendi solfeo de niña...Pero ahora mis penurias quedaron en el pasado y tengo partituras gratis a go-go!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Enjoy, piano lovers of the world!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348548662362771714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 186px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 132px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/Sjncq6wGEQI/AAAAAAAAADU/J5YXtf-0dtg/s320/Peanuts.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-7748914069612442461?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/7748914069612442461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=7748914069612442461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/7748914069612442461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/7748914069612442461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/06/keyboard-grrl.html' title='Keyboard Grrl'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SjndD9OZ4GI/AAAAAAAAADc/NDhVhTSuxtU/s72-c/keyboard-cat.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-6845795820532956964</id><published>2009-05-18T17:57:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T18:22:31.857-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Siesta'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Comida Abundante'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Significado'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Simbolos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sueños'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Niños Jugando'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reunion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fantasmas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bebe Gordo'/><title type='text'>Las fantasticas siestas de Aggie</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Hoy llegue de lo de un amigo en un estado de zombie total, y me dispuse a dormir una hermosa siesta. Ultimamente sueño bastante durante mis siestas...Las cuales no son muy seguidas, excepto cuando soy un zombie y estos dias lo soy. A veces uno se pregunta si no son las siestas lo que lo pone a uno mas zombie...En fin, prosigo a contar mi sueño, el cual por suerte hoy es en un lugar facil de describir, mas si estuvieron alli...Mi casa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;El sueño empieza conmigo en mi habitacion tirada en mi cama, en eso entra una niña fantasma, con sus hermanitos tambien fantasma...Al parecer en mis sueños los fantasmas son personas vestidas como en el siglo XVIII y en blanco y negro. La nena llevaba un hermoso vestido blanco y bucles rubios (lo se por la tonalidad del blanco y negro). No me asuste, lo cual me parecio extraño, sino que les hice de babysitter y mientras la nena, que tendria 6 años y el nene que tendria 7 jugaban, yo sostenia a su hermanito de 2 años. Luego me llamaron de abajo (mi dormitorio esta en el segundo piso). Baje y en el comedor habia una reunion de amigos y amigas de mi padre, algunos en solteria, otros en pareja, alguna otra sospechaba era la minita de mi padre...Gente toda creada por mi imaginacion, excepto uno de los amigos que si era real. Una de las parejas tenia un bebe muy grandote y gordo...Me recordo a Uter Zorker de Los Simpsons pero en version bebe. El bebe no sostenia su cabeza, asi que era dificil cargarlo y en una oportunidad casi golpeo la misma contra la punta de la mesa...En ese momento la gente adulta me miro muy mal. Luego note que en la mesa habia varias fuentes con porciones muy abundantes de distintos tipos de pastas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Busque los significados de los simbolos mas importantes del sueño y los fantasmas hablaban de algo que queria hacer pero mi propia culpa por algo del pasado no me permitia hacerlo y tambien que daba buena suerte. Los niños jugando tambien, hablaba de prosperidad. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;La comida, como muchos saben, es simbolo de abundancia. El bebe es inocencia, juventud, un proximo nacimiento en mi circulo social o algo nuevo y copado en mi vida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Todo muy basicamente hablando, pero ver el significado de esos simbolos en mi sueño me lleno de buena vibra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-6845795820532956964?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/6845795820532956964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=6845795820532956964' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/6845795820532956964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/6845795820532956964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/05/las-fantasticas-siestas-de-aggie.html' title='Las fantasticas siestas de Aggie'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-6223466025345632434</id><published>2009-04-24T18:35:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T18:52:03.337-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Taller 4'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Starbucks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zara'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Remera'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='X-Files'/><title type='text'>El Misterio de la Chica Desaparecida y la Remera Abandonada</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;En febrero fui a encargar una estampa para una remera negra que habia comprado en Zara a Taller 4. Estuve un largo rato volviendo loco al chico eligiendo tamaños, tipos de letra y diseño de la frase en cuestion. Segun me dijo, la remera estaria lista al otro dia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Jamas volvi, jamas llame. Siempre pensaba para mis adentros: "Tengo que ir a buscar la remera...Bueno, voy mañana y de paso voy a la biblioteca". Debo decir que tampoco fui aun a la biblioteca...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Hoy me junte con una amiga en el Starbucks de Lacroze y 3 de Febrero (el mas lindo a mi parecer, ya que el local es una casa antigua en una esquina no demasiado transitada) para festejar su cumpleaños por que no pude ir a su fiesta sorpresa, y como era cerca, fuimos en busca de mi abandonada remera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Estuvimos esperando un largo rato a que nos atendieran aunque solo habia dos personas antes que nosotras. Por fin llego nuestro momento y le dije al chico, que era el mismo de la vez anterior, que yo habia ido en febrero. Sorprendentemente, se acordaba de mi y mi remera y me dijo que siempre se preguntaba que habia pasado y que el otro dia la habia agarrado y empezo a pensar si me habia pasado algo, pero le dio 'cosa' pensar en ese tipo de cosas, asi que la dejo donde estaba...Y ahi estaba yo, dos meses despues, vivita y coleando, en busca de mi abandonada remera...Supongo que si esto fuese X-Files, mi caso como chica desaparecida se habria cerrado hoy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;De todos modos...Deje mi celular just in case...Podrian haberme llamado...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-6223466025345632434?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/6223466025345632434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=6223466025345632434' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/6223466025345632434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/6223466025345632434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/04/el-misterio-de-la-chica-desaparecida-y.html' title='El Misterio de la Chica Desaparecida y la Remera Abandonada'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-7482138359608021560</id><published>2009-04-19T15:19:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T15:36:49.216-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Complete Lyrics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cole Porter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anything Goes'/><title type='text'>Anything Goes, Cole Porter</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To my beloved Lady Astor, a place where you can always find it right.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Times have changed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;And we've often rewound the clock&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Since the Puritans got a shock&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;When they landed on Plymouth Rock.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;If today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Any shock they should try to stem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;'Stead of landing on Plymouth Rock,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Plymouth Rock would land on them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;In olden days, a glimpse of stocking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Was looked on as something shocking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;But now, God knows,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Anything goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Good authors too who once knew better words&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Now only use four-letter words&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Writing prose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Anything goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;If driving fast cars you like,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;If low bars you like,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;If old hymns you like,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;If bare limbs you like,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;If Mae West you like,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Or me undressed you like,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Why, nobody will oppose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;When ev'ry night,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;The set that's smart &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Is intruding in nudist parties in studios,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Anything goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;When Missus Ned McLean (God bless her)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Can get Russian reds to "yes" her,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Then I suppose,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Anything goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;When Rockefeller still can hoard en-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Ough money to let Max Gordon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Produce his shows, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Anything goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;The world has gone mad today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;And good's bad today,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;And black's white today,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;And day's night today,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;And that gent today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;You gave a cent today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Once had several chateaux.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;When folks who still can ride in jitneys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Find out Vanderbilts and Whitneys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Lack baby clo'es,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Anything goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;If Sam Goldwyn can with great conviction&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Instruct Anna Sten in diction,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Then Anna shows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Anything goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;When you hear that Lady Mendl standing up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Now turns a handspring landing up-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;On her toes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Anything goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Just think of those shocks you've got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;And those knocks you've got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;And those blues you've got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;From that news you've got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;And those pains you've got(If any brains you've got)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;From those little radios.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;So Missus R., with all her trimmin's,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Can broadcast a bed from Simmons&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;'Cause Franklin knows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9966;"&gt;Anything goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-7482138359608021560?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/7482138359608021560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=7482138359608021560' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/7482138359608021560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/7482138359608021560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/04/anything-goes-cole-porter.html' title='Anything Goes, Cole Porter'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-4354007504196580260</id><published>2009-03-25T23:45:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T23:58:50.365-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sibblings'/><title type='text'>My Dad &amp; I</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm all day alone, doing nothing but stuff a sick kid not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;attending&lt;/span&gt; to school would. At night, my dad arrives home. He just get inside and as he does he starts complaining about how I never clean up. He asks about my future. As if I knew. Then I tell him I'll continue my french and dance lessons. "That's nothing", he says. Then I say I'll work too. "Where?", he asks in total disbelief. Then I start being really hostile. "What do you care?", is my harsh answer. "I care cause you live here", he replies. "You think I can't get a job. You talk to me as I were useless", I say to him in a loud voice. Then he complains about me not cleaning up the bathroom. Then I go to the kitchen and wash the dishes. He starts cooking. I go to the computer. Then he comes and asks me if his bald is too noticeable now. My answer is yes, cause it is, I can't lie to him about it to make him feel better, he knows it is. Then he goes back to the kitchen and eat his supper. I go to the kitchen and wath him eat for a few seconds...He never asked if I ate, nor if I was hungry, nor if, by any crazy chance on earth, I wanted to eat. No, he just prepared his meal, and sat to eat it alone. Never called me to eat, nor to have a conversation while he was at it. Then he always says I'm bitter. Well, I can't really act another way while he's around...And it kills me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-4354007504196580260?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/4354007504196580260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=4354007504196580260' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/4354007504196580260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/4354007504196580260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-dad-i.html' title='My Dad &amp; I'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-2440392205830164654</id><published>2009-03-25T22:02:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T22:11:51.566-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bad Cat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kitty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cattitude'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Non-Castrated'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cat Calendars'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cat'/><title type='text'>CATTITUDE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/ScrUbiSqpLI/AAAAAAAAACU/QEm5uacChsk/s1600-h/kitty.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317295879590945970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/ScrUbiSqpLI/AAAAAAAAACU/QEm5uacChsk/s400/kitty.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                 &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lonely girl wants to adopt a male, non-castrated kitty.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why specifically &lt;em&gt;non-castrated&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;'Cause if it is, it will get fat, stay at home all day long, do nothing, basically, be Garfield about it. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Whether&lt;/span&gt; if he isn't he'll go outside, hunt little cute birdies, fuck some beautiful, sexy kitties and come back home, to be with me, his food and love provider. That's what a real city cat should be all about.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317297170307944018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 323px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/ScrVmqllDlI/AAAAAAAAACc/TThvp5fUm9s/s400/cat-calendar_01f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-2440392205830164654?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/2440392205830164654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=2440392205830164654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/2440392205830164654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/2440392205830164654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/03/cattitude.html' title='CATTITUDE'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/ScrUbiSqpLI/AAAAAAAAACU/QEm5uacChsk/s72-c/kitty.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-1800412487322993534</id><published>2009-03-05T15:52:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T16:27:31.826-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Capitan Aldo Garrido'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jebediah Springfield'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='San Isidro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Heroes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Simpsons'/><title type='text'>Let Our Heroes Remain Untouched</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Todos los que caminabamos periodicamente por las calles del centro de San Isidro conociamos, o habiamos visto al menos una vez al Oficial Garrido. Siempre en alguna esquina, frente a algun negocio, observando.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Un dia le parecio raro no ver a las chicas de un local y entro solo para encontrarse con una pareja (medio Pulp Fiction pero muchisimo menos cool) de la cual la mina, seguramente asustada, lo primero que hizo al darse vuelta y verlo fue pegarle tres tiros. Asi nomas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Todo San Isidro sintio la muerte como no recuerdo ninguna otra. Misas, entierro, luto y moños negros por doquier. Se cambio el nombre de la calle Chacabuco por el de Aldo Garrido y la pequeña plazoleta que tiene el mastil ahora luce una nueva y reluciente placa en su honor, siendo llamada ahora Plazoleta Aldo Garrido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;San Isidro sintio dolor y orgullo por su nuevo heroe, su nuevo martir, el que murio protegiendonos, cumpliendo su deber. Quizas reaccion exagerada para algunos como por ejemplo para Graciela, quien envio un mail que contaba el caso de una entonces nueva optica a la cual habian robado tres veces, a la cual luego de haberle dicho que hablara con Garrido, no volvio a sucederle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Bueno, el tipo aceptaba coimas, diganme quien en la policia no lo hace. Quien no hizo alguna vez algo por lo cual no merece los laureles? Acaso esta mujer no sabe que cuando alguien muere la memoria de la gente suele borrar aquello malo que hizo y entonces recuerda solo lo bueno o rie al recordar esas cosillas que quizas no deberia haber hecho? Mas aun tratandose de casos como este, que de Oficial paso a Capitan, no por que haya hecho algo que lo hacia merecedor de aquello, sino por morir de ESA manera, trabajando, en manos de una boluda que no tenia idea de lo que hacia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Recordemos sino ese capitulo de Los Simpson en el cual Lisa descubre que Jebediah Springfield es en realidad un farsante pero prefiere callar para mantener la ilusion de la gente. Es como decirle a un niño de cuatro años que Papa Noel no existe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 600px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 360px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.infobae.com/adjuntos/imagenes/42/0254287B.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;All I'm saying is...People Need Heroes...&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/8248747596109140074-1800412487322993534?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/1800412487322993534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=1800412487322993534' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/1800412487322993534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/1800412487322993534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/03/let-our-heroes-remain-untouched.html' title='Let Our Heroes Remain Untouched'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-4603303276590991761</id><published>2009-02-07T01:31:00.009-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T02:31:28.317-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Homosexuality'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Will Tanner'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ALF'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Max Wright'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crack'/><title type='text'>Quien te ha visto y quien te ve?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Buscando la aburrida informacion sobre el paradero actual de Benji Gregory, encontre algo mas jugoso, ya viejo en realidad (no para mi), pero digno de echar un vistazo de todas formas. Se trata de Max Wright, o como la mayoria lo conoce, como al dulce y testarudo Will Tanner de la serie (genialidad) ALF.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 666px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 668px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3289/2458097134_22251514ea_b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;No tan conservador como se pensaba, Max ya entrado en años, fuma crack con algunos amiguillos intimos...Muy intimos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 350px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1618.es/wp-content/uploads/2007/06/max_wright.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Oh well...As long as he's having fun...I guess he earned it after all those years having to deal with that furry little alien.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-4603303276590991761?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/4603303276590991761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=4603303276590991761' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/4603303276590991761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/4603303276590991761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/02/quien-te-ha-visto-y-quien-te-ve.html' title='Quien te ha visto y quien te ve?!'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3289/2458097134_22251514ea_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-4497297845820762747</id><published>2009-02-06T02:01:00.007-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T01:56:18.218-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Benji Gregory'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ALF'/><title type='text'>Y que paso con Benji Gregory?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://mikevsdinos.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/benjigregory.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 220px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px" alt="" src="http://mikevsdinos.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/benjigregory.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"When "ALF" (1986) was canceled, it was a relief. I didn't want to do any more shows, but I don't regret any of it."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Sick of being in front of the cameras, Benji attended the Academy of Art College in San Francisco, California and has left acting.&lt;br /&gt;Benjamin Gregory Hertzberg joined the United States Navy in March 2004. He became an Aerographer's Mate at The Center for Naval Education and Training Unit - Keesler AFB Biloxi, MS. He was then transferred to Bremerton, WA and served onbord the Aircraft Carrier USS Carl Vinson (CVN 70) from June 2004 to January 2005 in the Weather Office. He was discharged from the Navy in 2005 for medical reasons and is last known to be living in Arizona with his wife, Sarah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SYx0zqd3oxI/AAAAAAAAABs/beDdLo78E5I/s1600-h/benjigregory.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299739292429951762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 277px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SYx0zqd3oxI/AAAAAAAAABs/beDdLo78E5I/s320/benjigregory.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;So basically, he went from playing the role of a boy who lived with the most funny alien in the world (or at least in show biz) to join the navy and live in Arizona with his wife...YAWN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-4497297845820762747?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/4497297845820762747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=4497297845820762747' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/4497297845820762747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/4497297845820762747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/02/y-que-paso-con-benji-gregory.html' title='Y que paso con Benji Gregory?'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SYx0zqd3oxI/AAAAAAAAABs/beDdLo78E5I/s72-c/benjigregory.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-1351397215140184316</id><published>2009-02-06T01:29:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T01:59:03.202-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lux Interior'/><title type='text'>Lux Interior</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f321/stingreiy/lux.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 205px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f321/stingreiy/lux.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-1351397215140184316?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/1351397215140184316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=1351397215140184316' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/1351397215140184316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/1351397215140184316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/02/lux-interior.html' title='Lux Interior'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-4941505092657916090</id><published>2009-02-05T02:16:00.006-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T02:40:20.059-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bob hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie line'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zombies'/><title type='text'>Funniest Movie Line Ever</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;En fin, el post anterior se fue por las ramas, pero lo que queria en realidad que vieran es este fantastico video, corto, muy corto por cierto, porque se trata de un pequeñisimo fragmento de una pelicula con Bob Hope, dirigida por George Marshall, &lt;em&gt;The Ghost Breakers&lt;/em&gt; (1940).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SkzV5AIK8iM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SkzV5AIK8iM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-4941505092657916090?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/4941505092657916090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=4941505092657916090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/4941505092657916090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/4941505092657916090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/02/funniest-movie-line-ever.html' title='Funniest Movie Line Ever'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-6558923412301200005</id><published>2009-02-05T01:44:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T02:31:48.797-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Martin Luther King'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='white'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Obama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='black'/><title type='text'>Obama Is The New Black</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Obama esta en todos lados, en toooodos lados. Antes la gente se simpsonizaba, ahora hacen un poster pro-obama. Todo bien con los democratas, Bill era lo maximo, pero despues de su pequeño drama, los democratas ya no eran tan bien vistos y la gente quiso volver a ser Republicana (sobretodo Florida). Ahora que los Republicanos no estan tan bien vistos, las opciones eran la mujer de Clinton, la que se banco el quilombo o un negro (bah, una mezcla y no estoy despreciando). Viendo que ya no es nada avant-garde poner a una mujer en el poder, los americanos fueron directo a la segunda opcion y se enorgullecieron mientras nombraban sin parar a Martin Luther King. He's not even black...He's half-half...or non-fully black, non-fully white, whatever. Pero no, es negro por que tiene cierto color y eso lo hace no-blanco y que bueno que ahora ya no son esclavos y pueden ser presidentes, que bueno que los blancos los dejan hacer algo ademas de recoger algodon. Cuando se harten del juguete nuevo todo va a volver a ser como antes...Mientras tanto...Being black is the new black...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 335px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 496px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://filmindustrybloggers.com/thegenredirector/files/2008/08/tropicthunderrd.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-6558923412301200005?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/6558923412301200005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=6558923412301200005' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/6558923412301200005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/6558923412301200005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/02/obama-is-new-black.html' title='Obama Is The New Black'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-7579188819758248331</id><published>2009-02-05T01:28:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T01:43:19.551-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gorundhog Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marmota'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Mighty Book'/><title type='text'>Groundhog Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Groundhog Day o El Dia De La Marmota (en castellano suena mas gracioso) fue hace unos pocos dias, el 2 de Febrero (como todos los años, claro), cosa que yo ignoraba porque no preste demasiada atencion mientras miraba la pelicula que lleva el nombre del dia que determina si el invierno sigue por seis semanas mas o la primavera comienza dependiendo de si esta soleado (pudiendo la marmota ver su sombra) o nublado (no pudiendo ver esta su sombra, claro, porque no hay sol) en cuyo caso todo empezaria a florecer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;En fin, en realidad estaba buscando algo sobre &lt;strong&gt;The Mighty Boosh&lt;/strong&gt; y en el camino me tope con &lt;strong&gt;The Mighty&lt;em&gt; Book&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, lo cual me llevo a ver una serie de cuentos infantiles animados, algunos muy malos, pero &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mightybook.com/MightyBook_free/books/groundhog_day/groundhog_day.html"&gt;Groundhog Day&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, me parecio singularmente simpatico. Do have a watch, people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-7579188819758248331?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/7579188819758248331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=7579188819758248331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/7579188819758248331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/7579188819758248331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/02/groundhog-day.html' title='Groundhog Day'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-3877298821114398272</id><published>2009-02-03T21:55:00.007-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T22:05:03.445-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shitty poetry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='night life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='booze'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='horrid places'/><title type='text'>Horrid Places</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Horrid places&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;For horrid people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Who think a great party&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Is shitty music and cheap booze.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Horrid places &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;For dull people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Who believe fun is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Kissing a load of ugly strangers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Even funnier if they know'em all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Horrid places&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;For 9 to 5 people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Whose happiness only lasts an hour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Horrid places&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;For posers who think fun is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Pretend and bitch around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Horrid places, once in a while&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;For the ones who bought the dog,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;The ones who expected more &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;But all they found was...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Horrid Places.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-3877298821114398272?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/3877298821114398272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=3877298821114398272' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/3877298821114398272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/3877298821114398272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/02/horrid-places.html' title='Horrid Places'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-5881123466532563243</id><published>2009-02-03T20:21:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T21:05:35.440-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yogurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feminidad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transito lento'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cagada'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medicina'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mujeres'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Flora intestinal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='enfermedad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doctora'/><title type='text'>De ir al baño a ser celiaco en dos segundos</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Enferma estoy desde hace unos &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;días&lt;/span&gt;, ya harta de mi &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;situación&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;decidí&lt;/span&gt; que &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;algún&lt;/span&gt; sujeto con un diploma y una firma y sello que valen oro en una farmacia (al menos para cierto tipo de gente) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;debería&lt;/span&gt; venir a visitarme e indicarme como pasar un poco mejor estos aburridos &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;días&lt;/span&gt; en cama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Llego entonces la doctora quien tanteo mi abdomen en busca de un dolor no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;difícil&lt;/span&gt; de encontrar y &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;empezó&lt;/span&gt; a enumerar una serie de alimentos dignos de la hoguera como jugo de manzana, compota de manzana (esta gente ama esa fruta), mermelada de membrillo, arroz blanco hervido, fideos con un poco de aceite...Y yo, claro, la persona mas asquerosa del universo, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ponía&lt;/span&gt; una &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;simpática&lt;/span&gt; cara de espanto mientras escuchaba. Que suerte la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;mía&lt;/span&gt;, me toco una doctora canchera que me dijo que no importaba, que comiera banana o tomara &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;gatorade&lt;/span&gt; de naranja, con tal de que consumiese algo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;además&lt;/span&gt; de agua.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luego se paso al asunto que mas popularidad parece tener entre nuestras &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;contemporáneas&lt;/span&gt; del genero femenino: La flora intestinal. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Hoorray&lt;/span&gt;! Todo ese gasto &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;telefónico&lt;/span&gt; al fin tiene un culpable.&lt;br /&gt;Mi madre menciono que me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;había&lt;/span&gt; comentado mas temprano que ella va una vez por &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;día&lt;/span&gt; al baño y que eso era lo normal, a lo que yo le &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;respondí&lt;/span&gt; que quien le &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;había&lt;/span&gt; dicho que eso era lo normal, que yo iba dos o tres veces por &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;día&lt;/span&gt;. Y fue &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;ahí&lt;/span&gt; que a la medica se le &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;ocurrió&lt;/span&gt; decir que &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;podía&lt;/span&gt; ser celiaca, que me haga el puto &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;análisis&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Claro, con tanto transito lento, de mujeres que no salen de sus hogares por que se sienten la orca &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Willy&lt;/span&gt; o que &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;están&lt;/span&gt; por parir por su agujero trasero, ahora si vas al baño no sos una persona normal, sos celiaco! Con tanta publicidad donde las mujeres se drogan con un &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;yogurt&lt;/span&gt; frutal que siempre aparece en un mundo donde todo es violeta como su envase, mujeres que &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;sonríen&lt;/span&gt; en complicidad por que ahora van al baño, algo que yo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;subestimaba&lt;/span&gt; aparentemente...Pero que tonta fui, el ir al baño ahora es lo que antes era un collar de perlas: la feminidad en su &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;máxima&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;expresión&lt;/span&gt;...Una cagada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-5881123466532563243?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/5881123466532563243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=5881123466532563243' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/5881123466532563243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/5881123466532563243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/02/de-ir-al-bano-ser-celiaco-en-dos.html' title='De ir al baño a ser celiaco en dos segundos'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-6446274668164943904</id><published>2009-01-28T01:39:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T01:44:00.814-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='infancia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vecina'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muerte'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='infarto'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joven'/><title type='text'>Death Is All Around Us</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Ilusa fui al creer que la racha de muerte indiscriminada del 2008 acabaria el 31 de Diciembre. Quizas es la naturaleza, respondiendo a la sobrepoblacion mundial...Sea por una buena causa o no, it hurts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;esta semana ya me entere de dos muertes de gente conocida mia&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;un horror&lt;br /&gt;Sam says:&lt;br /&gt;oh, que mal&lt;br /&gt;Sam says:&lt;br /&gt;yo me entere que se murio el hijo de la dentista&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;yo me entere del marido de la hermana de un amigo de mi papa&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;q lo vi en varias oportunidades, y se habia casado hace 2, 3 años y tenian una nena, y lo vi en el casamiento de este amigo y viste cuando ves a la gente y decis "este es un buen tipo y la verdad q bancarse elcaracter de la hna de edmund..." y no te conoce mucho pero viene y te saluda por q sabe quien sos a diferencia de la mujer ponele&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;y lo ves bien, joven, y te enteras q se murio de un infarto jugando al futbol y pensas q eso le pasa a otro tipo de gente, de mas edad generalmente&lt;br /&gt;Sam says:&lt;br /&gt;que bajon&lt;br /&gt;Sam says:&lt;br /&gt;realmente te podes morir de cualquier cosa&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;si, y hoy mi abuela me dijo q mi vecina de cuando yo era pequeña en wilde murio&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;sara era grande y yo teniendo 3, 4 años me metia en su casa asi como asi, y ella me mostraba sus pajaritos y hablabamos y ese tipo de cosas&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;viste q los niños a veces suelen tener una conexion con alguien de edad q no es de su familia&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;y bueno, esto me pasaba con sara, y hoy me puse a llorar en el medio de la cena por eso&lt;br /&gt;Sam says:&lt;br /&gt;ah, pero era grande no?&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;si&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;pero igual, yo siempre q pensaba en wilde pensaba en sara q seguia ahi&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;y yo la queria volver a visitar&lt;br /&gt;Elegantly I Am In The World says:&lt;br /&gt;y ahora ya no puedo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-6446274668164943904?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/6446274668164943904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=6446274668164943904' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/6446274668164943904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/6446274668164943904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/01/elegantly-i-am-in-world-says-esta.html' title='Death Is All Around Us'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-5662430480869806645</id><published>2009-01-21T13:55:00.011-02:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T15:12:56.391-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Helen Hunt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vespa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kathleen Turner'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fotografia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sofia Coppola'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='San Isidro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nicolas Cage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Francis Ford Coppola'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kevin J. O&apos; Connor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jim Carrey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barry Miller'/><title type='text'>Atardecer, Vespa y Cine</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Ayer fui a ver una pelicula al Teatro Municipal del Viejo Concejo de San Isidro. Toda esta semana dan peliculas de directores consagrados a las 21 hs. Hoy ire a ver &lt;em&gt;Rebel Without a Cause&lt;/em&gt; (Rebelde Sin Causa), el jueves dan Barry Lyndon, la cual cambiare por Sir Elton y el viernes Taxi Driver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;En fin, me dije a mi misma que era ridiculo llevar mi cartera llena de basura y cosas que creo indispensables como gafas, camara, billetera; total, la pelicula era gratis y solo necesitaba monedas para el colectivo y mi celular. Entonces me dispuse a ser practica y lleve mi cartera mas chiquita pero practica ya que tiene varios bolsillos y puse mi monedero, mis llaves y mi celular. Adentro tambien tenia unas gomas muy modernosas y calcomanias de la escuela de surf de La Olla, a la cual fui en Punta del Este hace dos años que me habia regalado mi madre y un snicker que me habia regalado mi hermana, el cual despues de la pelicula, me fue muy util para recobrar energias, ya que hizo tanto calor ayer que no pude probar bocado en todo el dia y me sentia pesimo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Orgullosa yo, con mi practicidad, me baje del colectivo caminando rapido y cantando para adentro, pero moviendo los labios, asi, muy canchera, como si me llevara el mundo por delante y me dirigia hacia el teatro cuando vi que las barreras del tren estaban bajas, y estando ambos trenes ahi y no sabiendo yo exactamente cuando arrancarian, me detuve y decidi a esperar. Ahi, delante de la barrera veo, sobre una hermosa Vespa blanca a una pareja. Lo primero que note fue que ambos eran ya adultos. El tenia todo su cabello blanco, una remera y un short de jean, o mas bien un jean hecho short y ella tenia una musculosa negra y un short de jean. Lo segundo que note fue que ambos llevaban Chucks o Converse. El tenia unas negras, comunes, con cordones blancos y ella unas negras con cordones marrones, parecian de cuero, pero no llegue a distinguirlo realmente. Lo tercero que note, claro, fue que ambos tenian unos casquitos hermosos, dignos de una Vespa, y asumo que saben a lo que me refiero. Y el toque final, para mi, era el cabello de ella. Tenia una trenza al costado, el cabello no demasiado largo. Se notaba que su cabello era rizado o al menos tenia ondas muy marcadas y pequeñas y era del color del otoño. Colorado, rojizo, pero tambien tenia tintes castaños, aunque no en su mayoria. Su cabello era maravilloso y hacia de esa una imagen perfecta.&lt;br /&gt;Luego de mirarlos por un rato, me di cuenta de que me sobraba el tiempo de sacarles una foto con mi nueva camara, y ahi fue cuando todo se desvanecio y me di cuenta de que esa practicidad que habia llevado a cabo con orgullo ya no era producto de orgullo sino todo lo contrario, me enojaba el hecho de haberme dejado llevar por semejante acto absurdo de ser como los demas desean. Todo el mundo se burla de mi cartera o mochila o bolso pesado, me preguntan si cargo ladrillos y que si algun dia vienen a robarme, puedo matar al que lo intente con mi bolso, pero soy yo la que los carga y me doy cuenta ahora de que no es una tonteria mia, que tiene su razon de ser, al menos en mi. Ya resignada a no poder tomar una fotografia, observe lo mas que pude esa imagen y la grabe en mi cabeza. Quien sabe cuanto tiempo permanezca ahi, solo se que era una imagen perfecta. La luz del atardecer, ellos, su hermosa Vespa. Todo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Llegue espantosamente temprano. 25 minutos antes de que empiece la pelicula, pero eso me perimitio el que para mi era el mejor lugar de toda la sala, en el medio, justo a la altura de la pantalla. La bateria de mi celular murio, lo cual no permitio que escuchase musica para pasar el rato, asi que lei el folleto con la informacion de las peliculas que dan esta semana. Mientras tanto, iba llegando gente y buscando lugar, a veces con indecision, con miedo a que su acompañante no le agrade, cambiando de lugar dependiendo que clase de gente se ponia cerca o al lado. La mayoria eran señoras sanisidrenses, o parejas de 40 y algunos jovenes de mi edad o ya en sus 20s, alguna parejita, algun pequeño grupo de amigos. La pelicula era Peggy Sue Got Married (Peggy Sue Su Pasado La Espera) de Francis Ford Coppola, del año 1986, con Kathleen Turner, muy joven, Nicolas Cage, quien esta casi igual, Barry Miller, Jim Carrey, Kevin J. O' Connor, una pequeña Helen Hunt y una mas pequeña aun Sofia Coppola.&lt;br /&gt;La pelicula me parecio genial para el momento que yo estoy viviendo, eso es, el terminar el colegio, tomar decisiones, escribir mi destino, o ver a donde esas deciciones me llevan, considerar mis posibilidades, crear nuevas posibilidades, marcar mi camino. Rei, solte un par de lagrimas, me llene de nostalgia, me sorprendi, un torbellino de emociones, en definitiva, y dado lo aburrido que pinta este verano, eso era exactamente lo que necesitaba.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-5662430480869806645?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/5662430480869806645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=5662430480869806645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/5662430480869806645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/5662430480869806645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2009/01/ayer-fui-ver-una-pelicula-al-teatro.html' title='Atardecer, Vespa y Cine'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-1882679273457373023</id><published>2008-12-23T15:16:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T15:09:10.763-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Riots'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laser'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Greece'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rave'/><title type='text'>Greece has da real shit</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;So...What a great piece of land is Greece, huh? And great parties as well, or so says Tara Reid on Wild On! Not content with those Toga Parties of them and nude people dancing in beaches, their riots rock as well...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;In a protest due to economic crisis and the killing by a police of a 15-year-old boy, they decided they didnt like the Christmas tree the government put in the city...So they burnt it. It was replaced, of course, but they seemed not to like the new one as well, and attempted to burn the whole thing up once again, though it didnt happen this time cause they were too busy looting shops and throwing petrol bombs and stones to police and banks. Well done, greeks!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283092699482111314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SVFQ0bQXPVI/AAAAAAAAAA0/y0ZqH5kcq6o/s400/grecia+arbol" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Also, have a rave in the middle of the riot! Yeah, you read me! Greek's green lasers used to target policemen in the dusty mess of the riot put up the climax, bring on some maximal and we are on, mate!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283092704407232306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 207px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SVFQ0tmmnzI/AAAAAAAAAA8/ecc6UCa--NM/s400/grecia+lasers.jpg" border="0" /&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/8248747596109140074-1882679273457373023?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/1882679273457373023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=1882679273457373023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/1882679273457373023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/1882679273457373023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2008/12/greece-has-da-real-shit.html' title='Greece has da real shit'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SVFQ0bQXPVI/AAAAAAAAAA0/y0ZqH5kcq6o/s72-c/grecia+arbol' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8248747596109140074.post-3279279144855340677</id><published>2008-12-23T00:10:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T01:28:03.478-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Navidad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Estudiantes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grecia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Disturbios'/><title type='text'>Algo huele mal en Grecia...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Grecia hace tiempo ya que dejo de ser un lugar lleno de hombres homosexuales en tunicas y sin ropa interior que debatian sobre problemas existenciales.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;No, ahora Grecia, no hace tan poco, se convirtio en un lugar digno de un mayo frances, bueno, griego.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;No contentos con las protestas y huelgas que se vienen llevando a cabo debido a la crisis economica en Grecia, el 6 de Diciembre, Alexandros Grigoropoulos, de quince años fue asesinado por un policia, lo cual, claro, hizo que todos los estudiantes se sumen y canalicen la energia que todas esas hormonas en ebullicion proporcionan, en armar disturbios.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282820230859618738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 381px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SVBZAqiiebI/AAAAAAAAAAs/9vdEnaea8ig/s320/grecia+disturbios" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Al principio solo se trataba de estudiantes de la escuela a la que asistia Alexandros, luego otros estudiantes se sumaron a la vigilia con vela en mano, y otros se juntaron en el lugar del hecho, pero luego mas estudiantes se acercaron y empezaron a tirar bombas de petroleo y piedras a bancos y la estacion de policia donde trabajaba el policia acusado del asesinato del adolescente. Usaban lasers para marcar a los policias a atacar mientras gritaban "Asesinos fuera". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282820210773666402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SVBY_ftrKmI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EmAtRfE0jsA/s320/grecia+estudiantes" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282820217142437922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 282px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SVBY_3cG6CI/AAAAAAAAAAU/fjN5L3c_PNI/s320/grecia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;El siguiente blanco de los estudiantes, ahora con mascaras y encapuchados, fue el area comercial cercana a la Universidad Tecnica Nacional de Atenas, conocida como la Politecnica. Ya fuera de control, dieron vuelta autos e incendiaron tres bancos. Tambien atacaron varias tiendas y una oficina del ministro de ambiente. Otro blanco habia sido el arbol de navidad de Atenas, en clara defensa de su antigua religion politeista, el cual tuvo que ser reemplazado, y se amenazaba con incendiarlo nuevamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282820220682855650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 319px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 185px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SVBZAEoNZOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vAdmnlMNxZc/s320/grecia+lasers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282820219655953922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SVBZAAzYHgI/AAAAAAAAAAk/YKgWx0JQL8Q/s320/grecia+arbol" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;La respuesta a estos ataques fueron gases lacrimogenos. Aproximadamente setenta personas resultaron heridas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Muchos restaurantes en Exarchia (lugar de los disturbios) habian cerrado temprano en anticipacion a las violencia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;El primer ministro, Costas Karamanlis insiste en que Grecia necesita un lider experimentado en estos momentos de crisis economica. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Mientras tanto, en la segunda ciudad griega de Thessaloniki, un gran grupo de jovenes destrozaron un gimnasio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Esta semana la ira debido al asesinato del adolescente, se transformo en un sentimiento de ira hacia el gobierno de Grecia. De todos modos, una cierta calma retorna a la ciudad de Atenas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Miles de griegos se identifican como anarquistas felices de usar la violencia en lo que ellos llaman protestas legitimas contra el gobierno. Otros, se sienten aliviados de que haya vuelto la tranquilidad. "La gente se me acercaba y me decia que esa era la primera vez que sonreia en dias" dijo Nikitas Kaklamanis, gobernador de Atenas a la prensa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Fuente: BBC News&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8248747596109140074-3279279144855340677?l=frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/feeds/3279279144855340677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8248747596109140074&amp;postID=3279279144855340677' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/3279279144855340677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8248747596109140074/posts/default/3279279144855340677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchybastarrd.blogspot.com/2008/12/algo-huele-mal-en-grecia.html' title='Algo huele mal en Grecia...'/><author><name>Frenchy Bastarrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05150991339239332268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SWjuMoXtvYI/AAAAAAAAABI/AFmuq21iIMY/S220/Rimbaud3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3pscZTRUaJg/SVBZAqiiebI/AAAAAAAAAAs/9vdEnaea8ig/s72-c/grecia+disturbios' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
