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Saturday, 31 December 2011

Sex addiction and New Year


I hate New Year parties as I always feel a kind of “society pressure “to go somewhere to drink  and dance, something which is a MUST have “because it’s New Year’s Eve. If you don’t want to be a part of it, you are an outsider. Many times when I went to partying on New Year’s Eve I’ve had controversial experiences, and I can’t remember too much thing but body parts, sex, kissing with strangers and landing in a writer house and finding myself in a middle of an orgy. Everybody fucked with everyone, the house was full of with smell of sex and we don’t even introduce to each other. Another New Year party has ended up on a top of a hill with at least 46 biker girls and boys, in a middle of nowhere. That time no smart phone has existed,I’ve been in a huge house with assholes, from 10p.m to 4 a.m. I’ve listened crap music and I’ve talked with people who didn’t even know where they are. Thanks God my best friend successfully found me at 4a.m and picked me up. The next new year Eve started in a famous underground club where we met with some German guys and it ended up in a house with a great sex .Afterwards we went to another house party, and that was the time when I’ve met real weirdo’s. The party wasn’t a real party but a bunch of people watched the telly and drunken alcohol free champagne. I’ve suggested to watch porn but they told me it’s  “beneath them,so  afterwards I’ve listened endless conversations about religions, Catholicism etc which is fine if it’s not about a party and not in New Year’s Eve. Next New Year’s Eve started in a club again, kissing and dancing with one of my best friend brother , and that was the time when me and my friend didn’t talked for two years as she hated her brother so much and in her eyes our fling was a betrayal .I’ve spent great times in rock concerts with friends, great sex with stranger’s and I can’t remember their face’s, or their name’s but it was good at the time.


You can judge me how sexually free I was, but obviously I don’t care bad judgements otherwise I never share my story. I’ve had some normal house party with friends and many more which I can’t fully remember. The list of my New Year’s fun is not completed yet. You can call me bitch, whore, whatever, no regrets, no shame life was great. During these times I gained enough experience in every level so when I say “I love you Marty”-I mean it.


Nowadays I can’t relate to the girl who I was long time ago, but I cherish great memories from that time. I lived my teenager hood happily, I’ve tried lots of things and now I found the ultimate happiness and I don’t feel the need to fuck with strangers, or with friends or anyone whose moving but my beautiful Soul mate.

It was a long way to find myself and today, this New Year will be completely different as we decided to stay at home, eating junk, and watching great dvd-s together in each other arms. I will put on my Panda’s baby grow and my new Yeti home boots and just enjoy and celebrate our love. I don’t miss a thing,this is the perfection.



Happy New Year everyone, I wish you all happiness, joy and fun for the next year and sex sex sex….

“Your only duty is save your dreams”(Modligiani)

Life is amazing.














Tuesday, 20 December 2011

The real face of the care industry




What did I learned during few years in the care industry



I’ve learned how complex and difficult is the human nature, I had faced with all sorts of syndrome’s, disabilities such an :Korsakoff syndrome(best one, you completely forget what did you done, or what did you said in the last 20 minutes),Tourettes (everybody’s favourite),bi-polar depression, Asperger, Dementia, Challenging Behaviour ,Schyzophrenia ,Maniac depression ,Sexual Behaviour problems(sometimes we all have a resist to jerk off front of the public),and all sorts of autism etc.

I have memories about a man who strangled one of my colleague, people who’s just simply tried to kick a shit out of me ,psycho’s who’s threw a telly on to other service users, bunch of maniac who’s attacked a group of carers with shower-heads. I still can remember the fears that I felt every time when I went to work. I was scared, because I never knew when will I get kicked, and I didn’t know how to defend myself .Every time I’ve heard someone is screaming I’ve started to panicking. I saw all of my colleagues putting hats and waistcoats on and running toward to the voice with a hooky toky to find out what’s going on. I can remember the feeling when I’ve stocked with a psycho in a room, on my own and someone locked the door on me by mistake. My keys weren’t with me as that was my second day. The bloke who locked me did it for security reasons as in the hall the service users turned to mental and kicked the windows, threw tables and attacked the staff. I had to stay in a locked room with a twenty something, strong built big guy and the only thing that I can thought about is surviving, without any injuries. The hardest thing was staying calm when I wanted screaming, shouting, and running away. Looking in to a psycho eye and not showing fear was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever learned.

I’ve been brought up in a lovely, friendly open minded family and in my whole life I was surrounded by love. My parents are never were aggressive toward each other, they never been violent and I hardly can remember when i heard them shouting at each other within thirty years. I learned from them how to love, how to accept others and how to be myself always, in every circumstances. I’ve learned how important is to be a good person. My grandpa, Gaga was a great example. He loved everyone, and everyone loved him. He was happy to talk to strangers, rescuing animals e.g.: dogs, hedgehogs, snail’s, birds, ants, fly etc. and his world was all about love. From that background I went to be a career.



Years later a schizophrenic attacked my colleague front of me and he strangled the girl. I forgotten her name completely as I also forgotten how to kick, how to block, how to move. The girl head turned to be red, she couldn’t give out any voice and she just kept looking at me .She seemed to me someone who try to smile but she can’t. When I saw her struggling by the man I still wasn’t sure how serious is the situation because her face was unrecognizable, a strange mix of smile and struggle .I couldn’t read from it. Suddenly a relatively normal sex offender shouted at the guy to let the girl away, and the bloke let her down. He walked toward me .I wasn’t able to move, my tears just fell down on my face and my legs was very heavy. The sex offender jumped in front of me and shouted at the guy something like”..don’t touch her”. At that time the rest of the team has arrived, they blocked the aggressive one but I still wasn’t able to move. The only thing that I can remember is having a lovely cup of tea the in the main office with the manager of the Unit and a doctor, while the crazies hit the doors and windows. We had a chat about which agency has sent me here, and does anyone informed me about the place before I came? I’ve told them the name of the agency and I told them no one mentioned to me is a psychiatric institute. The line manager was completely shocked by my story and she suggested going the court and investigating the agency. I was lazy to do that, all that I wanted is going home as soon as I can .That institution was about an hour from the city centre’s so I had to call my husband to pick me up. I remember when I phoned him I burst in tears, and it was hard for me to explain what is really happened. Robert wasn’t a sensitive soul, his philosophy was “fighting and surviving” and not crying. He was always prepared for the worse, and he was always was prepared to die. I was a wimp in his eyes. He took me home and stayed with me for the night.



Few years later I landed in a mental home which was full of with people with challenging behaviour. At that place I’ve had to learn how to defend myself and others, how to block others without causing harm, and I’ve realised I’m a better survivor than I’ve had ever thought. Every morning I went to work with the fears of being hospitalized by a psycho .The staff around me all had injuries and broken bones. I can’t tell you the feeling when you have to prepare yourself for the worst. It’s something that maybe the navy, army, CIA agents are like but for me it’s a nightmare.

Despite all bad experiences I kept continue my mission to places to places and I have to say it’s a MIRACLE I’ve had never got seriously injured (apart of few scratches and bruises).I saw people losing their jobs and clean CRB (Criminal Bureau Record)by something that they never done. One of my colleagues “sins” was when a service user turned to be mental and tried to kick my colleague was held back the door on him. Holding back the door is enough reason to go under investigation. Other colleagues who hated her reported that to the deputy manager and she had to go home and she wasn’t allowed to come back until their clear her name. Sounds ridiculous but it’s not. In another place, in the same year one of my fellow colleagues did the same, he held back the door until the service user is calmed down. In that place this was normal, and appropriate (sic!)No investigation required. The woman who was dismissed because of her action has got sacked. She was a 61 year old lovely lady, full of with joy, love and heart. She wasn’t great at her job, but she was always good to the service users. However we all knew it wasn’t about her action; it was about how others hated her.

The system of the care industry is pretty much similar to the communism. People are report each other, everybody watching you, they writing reports about you and quote what did you said (or never said) and they are using your words against you. The person who has problem with you NEVER braves enough to confront you face to face. Welcome to the carer’s world. I’ve had never met such unethical cowards in my entire life. They favourite world is “inappropriate” and for them almost everything is inappropriate. For example: a service user (non -challenging behaviour) was in tears and she wanted to give me a hug, but I wasn’t allowed to hug her. Poor thing just kept crying like all of us if we have a hard time, but I had to watch her emotional struggle and refuse her cuddles.

I remember one day on a training someone used the word “cuddle “and the narrow minded trainer told that person this world is inappropriate .Cuddle .Inappropiate. Shocking.

People whom work in care are used to say they are happy with their jobs. They telling you every day how lovely that job is, and I can’t believe a word they say. What is good, or lovely about being a target day by day? What is good about looking after psychopaths, or non- verbal people? Following crazy regulations what make no sense at all and being told by “specialist’s” we can’t use the word anymore “learning disabilities “we has to use the world “difficulties “because of the human rights. They know a lot of thing about human rights such as how to do nothing when any of them crying.

I know all the proper, politically correct words for those people but I calling them mentalists, psychos, crazies because that’s what they are. I don’t find it offensive as I don’t mean any offence at all.

I loved all of my service users, I understood their needs, we had a good laugh-some of them have a really good sense of humour-but in the end of day I hated my job. They have rights, more rights than a career has got. On of their rights is attacking the staff and, as a staff member you just aloud to use a very limited legal self-defence technics to block them. Normally it works, sometimes not. You are not allowed to defend yourself even if a one hundred and thirty kilogram heavy psycho attack you and shouting “I will kill you bitch” .What can you do? Run baby, run. Of course at some place running away is “inappropriate” as if you do, your colleagues, and the other service users will get in trouble.

I’m not a coward, but I ran away once. The guy was huge, and he ran after me and tried to get me .I didn’t care others; all I wanted is surviving without injuries. Mission accomplished.

Some experts says majority of the psycho’s not doing these things deliberately, when they attack you they don’t know what they doing .Rubbish .They are exactly know what they doing is wrong .Some of them enjoy attacking others just like “normal “people in the real life.

I thought being a carer means being a good person. I was wrong.



 In my imaginations the care industry and the carers were lovely people with common sense, but the truth is no common sense or compassion at all. Nobody appreciates that fact you have compassion and love others whom in need if you can’t fill a simple form about some shitty, unnecessary things such as: Lucy asked others where is she (which she used to ask every day).

Lucy living in a care home since age of 5 and she ask this question every day so no need to record it all the time when it does happen. In the care sector the majority of people want to be more important than they are. They truly believe this is the job of the Century and working at places like that is a career. In my eyes working in a mental house is equivalent to waste time and talent. During those years I’ve never wanted to get higher position in this sector, on contrary. I’m completely avoided from every higher position as it’s such a huge responsibility. You can slip on one missed details, on one wrong reaction e.g.: calling the police when you feel you can’t control the situation. Some people are bullshiting about this job and tried to convince how much they loved it, but the thing is they never did. They choose that because sometimes this was the easiest way for them to get away from the chip shop where they worked as chips mangers. I’ve had met with lots of lost soul and sometimes I’ve got that strange impression the service users are more normal then the staff but at least they had more common sense and better understanding about what’s going on.

This industry is full of with absurd regulations like: “if a service user runs out from his own sun cream he is not allowed to use (two puffs) another service user sun cream as its financial abuse. That means if the person have to go out he will get serious sunburn injuries. Where is the love? I’m truly doubt they would do that with their own child or if they do, what a hell are they doing in this sector for God sake? They chewing on words like “Autistic disorder “or “Autistic Spectrum Disorder” like this is the most important thing on the Planet, being always politically correct .Rubbish. Today someone asked me on an interview what did I like most to being a carer? I was like:errrr…errrr….errrr…hhm…errr.I didn’t know the answer. I know what should I say, but the truth was different. What did I like the most being in this sector for years? I love that fact I’m out for good but Instead of that I’ve said: well..err..it was nice to see a different face of the human nature, and now I understand the retards much better .Yesssss I said the word: retaaaaaards,yippeeeeeee.And now, you all oversensitive ,dishonest ,two faced, common people you all can run around and getting shocked by that. When I said retards it doesn’t mean I don’t like them, but means I’m honest enough to not build irrational and ridiculously politically correct words to describe their behaviour.

These people need to be loved and being treated as an equal individual like I’ve always did with them. Maybe I call them retards but the thing is I have much better opinion on them than on some brain-dead trainer’s .Strangely, I always had good relationships with all of my managers all of them was lovely people. I’m happy because I’m out of this madness but of course I have loads of great memories, I had met with great people but in general I truly think this sector should improve fundamentally to really achieve to bring positive changes in to the people’s lives.



All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.


Friday, 9 December 2011

Wrinkles,Crisis,and Cartman

As far as I can remember back I always wanted to be 30 year old. When I was eighteen I was plump and upset not just the way I looked but I felt the whole world is against me and no one understands me at all. I thought being thirty is cool. I wasn’t happy in my twenties, I was been in love too many times, I got married but I still left with that “I don’t know what a hell I’m doing here “feeling. On the top of that I’ve been in love with someone who I shouldn’t fall in love (Mr.Garner gate)with and first time in my life I had to face with that fact my marriage is a disaster, and I become a job hopper in a foreign country and, my best friends are not around me anymore as they are living in different countries. I was left with me, myself, and I and it wasn’t the best company.


My mum is always describing her look as a bulldog referring to her wrinkles, but I told her many times to be proud of your wrinkles as all those little lines on our faces is a proof of life ,happiness ,laugh ,pain ,crazy moments ,joy ,pleasure ,beautiful feelings .On next weekend I will be thirty years old ,my wish will come true but when I look in to the mirror I could shout” Wrinkleeeeeeeeeeess ,oh my God I look like a bulldog”.


I’m still a job hopper and I still try to find my feet on this Planet. I’m still not quite sure what should I do, where should I live France,Italy,Gibraltar or in the US but at least I know what I don’t want to do which is better than nothing. I have no kids, I have no dogs, and I’m divorced and guess what? I’m happier than ever because I found my Soul mate who loves me as much as I love him, and he is my shiniest side. He is better than me, and better than anyone I’ve ever met. At the end of day I found my inner peace and my harmony. My emotional life is not ups and downs anymore and maybe the world change around me, but the most important thing is mine and my feelings will be the same. I will always love my big “szormok”.




I love my body and I love my life. I learned how to appreciate my beauty and how to love myself. I have great life with a great family, great friends and I’ve been loved by great men’s.

I’m still a fourteen year old inside with full of questions. I’m still believe in Santa, and anytime I feeling sad I pop in to the Disney shop and I give a big hug to Tigger .I love hugging people, I’m a scary huggy monster and I can’t take the life serious .I’m still wearing Tinkle Bell socks, and I have Superman G-strings and I can believe penguins can fly if they really want. My favourite cartoon is South Park,Cartman rocks. I can’t cook, I’m not obsessed with cleaning and I’m crap with money. I’m not a people pleaser and I’m sarcastic (my ex brain-dead trainer has loved it).I love being Bernie.


The unconditional love has changed my life.

Being thirty is cool. I’m on my way.








Friday, 11 November 2011

Poppy,Bernie and the Muslims

Yesterday I’ve bought a poppy despite I’m not English and I have nothing to do with the Remembrance Day. I’m living in this country since 5 years and within this time I never involved in any social, political, or race issues, I’ve had never been voted for any party but I’ve always worked and socialised, and I’ve learned a lot about the English culture and I lived as a happy cosmopolitan which is I am.

The reason why I bought a poppy is a bit complex. I’ve bought it because I think those heroes are died for a good case, they died for this country and they believed they could make this country better for their sons, families for the future generations. This is something that everybody should appreciate doesn’t matter where you from, or who you are, heroes are heroes in every language, and in every nation.

The second, and probably the strongest reason why did I put a poppy on my coat is I find absolutely disgraceful the Muslim’s actions. I hate that fact they want you to respect their beliefs but they not respect yours (whatever it is).Burning a symbol of a nation heroes is one of the worse thing I’ve ever heard and it’s absurd. “If you live in Rome, live like a Romains”. With that poppy I demonstrate against those Muslim’s whose burning poppies and provokes those whom believe and appreciate their heroes and I think every single soul should do the same for the good case. I’m a visitor in this country, and after a while I will move in to another country as I want to see the world, and my life is about journey. The Muslim’s are visitors too, it’s not their nation, it’s not their country so they has no rights whatsoever to making rules, or forcing their opinion on the others.

Thanks for the home secretary, if they will burn poppies on this day they could face with 10 years in a jail.

I’ love my country and I wear my poppy on every 23th of October to remember our sad but brave revolutionist’s whose fought and died in 1956 for a better Hungary. When I lived in my country I was ignorant with my (and every other countries) but after 5 years in abroad I understand what is nation pride means. Not just with words, but with hearts as well.

Some group does maybe will call me racist just because I completely disagree with the Muslim’s but it’s nothing to do with the race. It’s not about their belief, their colour it’s about their actions. Not every Muslim’s like that. Nowadays when e.g. a black man, a Pakistani, a Muslim, Islamic, Arabic ,gipsy,chinese(and other races) do something which is against the law, majority of people are afraid to criticise  them as they have a fear from others to getting stick as a racist. That’s what I call positive discriminations which are such as bad as negative discriminations.

The sad thing is the Muslims with their actions could make a lot of people racist and those Muslim’s whose work hard and respect this culture will suffer from negative discrimination which is a massive injustice.

Old cliché but so true:” My fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.

Wear you poppy with pride doesn’t matter what others say, be proud of your heroes but always think before you make a bad judgement about any Muslims without knowing them as not all of them radical fanatics. This country doesn’t need more racist, but good people.
Bernie




11.11.11





Tuesday, 25 January 2011

The scariest thing that ever can happen

The scariest thing that ever can happen,

When I’ve ask people what are their biggest fears, the answers are as follows:
1. Dyeing.
2. Dyeing alone
3. Losing their loved ones
4. Losing money, and being homeless
When I was a kid my biggest fear was being eaten by a shark (thank you Mr.Spielberg ). That made no sense, because the place where I’ve lived hadn’t any sea or ocean, so the chances of being attacked by a shark were zero. As I’ve started to grow up my fears have changed, the shark phobia has gone, and my new worse fear began: being scared of dogs biting me. I think every age has its own fears. We have different fears at the age of 10 then the age of 35, but we always find something that we can be scared of. Now my fear of dogs has gone. Nowadays I think the worst thing that can happen to me is losing my memory. Sounds strange, I know, but I couldn’t live without my memories. I’ve had a miraculous childhood with loving parents and grandparents, I’ve met with fantastic people, I’ve experienced many faces of love and I’ve travelled a lot. I love every single memory of mine, without them I’d be a completely different person .Thanks to my memories I can remember the girl I was at the age of fourteen and who I would like to be at the age of eighty. I’ve always defined myself as the luckiest kid alive because everything that happened to me, good and bad, was great. I love and cherish my memories about my first trip with my grandparents, about the first food that I’ve cooked (that was rubbish), my first friends, first parties, first kisses, first sex, first wedding and the first time when I’ve jumped in to a man’s neck and I’ve kissed him, first time when I left home at the age of twenty two…et cetera. I also love my sweet memories about the time when I’ve met with my Soul mate and we fell in love, the first time when I’ve lived on my own, the first time when I got attacked by a dog and my daddy saved me. When I found out that my ex-hubby had cheated on me, the only thing I felt after 6 years of marriage was Freeeedooom, yuppiieeeeee and I’m getting a divorce(my second thought was :Really ?With her??). My first bicycle accident was funny, I broke my arm, but my favourite was when I had an accident on a motorbike and my soul mate saved me and that’s why I’m alive. Good to remember how many great times I’ve spent with my grandparents. I can still remember my grandpa’s voice and every time I feel myself terrible I just imagine he’s still with me .I also believe I have great guardian angels whose defend me, thank you guysJ. I love my daddy, he’s a fantastic creature of this Planet and I have the most brilliant mum I could ever wish for. My boyfriend is the best thing that has ever happened to me, he’s amazing just the way he is.
I love my decisions and the way I show my love. Everything that is good in me is the love that I’ve learned from my family, and the only way I can give back this love I’ve got from them is to show the love to everyone who needs it. I live life without fears and with honesty.
I’m in love with life and I’ve never taken it  for granted.






Friday, 21 January 2011

Art or Snobbery?

Art or Snobism?

I’ve always get a bit annoyed when I’ve gone in  to a gallery and thousands of people are standing in front of a painting, which is full of pubic hair and pig skin. What the hell is that all about? What is artistic about painting one ring on to a box, and naming that “My soul, from 1999”.My favourite is when people start serious discussions about toilet seats, which is full of lipstick marks and says “that’s so unique and so brave”, Really?  If I leave lipstick marks on the toilet seat my family will probably shout at me at the top of their voice. If I try to explain to them that’s art, the situation will probably get worse.
I’ve been in many galleries, many times because as a porcelain painter I love arts. Painting and creating anything is the best way of self-expression. I’ve experienced people whose are enthusiastically visiting contemporary art galleries and having endless discussions about a simple, one coloured cube, those people are just like snobs and like half-educated tourists, who spend one and a half hours in front of the Mona Lisa. The only difference between the contemporary art fan and classical art fan is that the first group look down on the last group. Nowadays it’s not trendy to take a hat off in front of Brueghel, Da Vinci, Raffaelo, because everybody knows them and everybody appreciate their art. Most of these people want to be unique in every possible way, in their eyes if you can adore a toilet seat with lipstick marks on it, you have special taste and you are unique. Deep in their heart they are not as keen on the contemporary art as they want to be. A friend of mine spent a huge amount of money on a painting called “The dog”. I have no idea who was the painter but I’ve never seen such an ugly dog as the one in that painting. He’s probably of the same opinion because he’s kept the painting on the toilet door. When I mentioned this to him, how ugly that painting is, he said “he knows but after five year it will worth more”, not.

The contemporary fans have two groups: The first group is art students, who read some very important book about how to paint something idiosyncratically. They have saved money since fourteen to buy a picture from a modern painter. They are usually wearing very extreme clothes, like a Westwood hat (but from Banana Republic), or something ridiculously simple like Converse shoes. The second group are half-educated, new money people without any sort of taste. Most of them made their millions from selling clothes, import, export, telecommunications, stock broking or their parents have supported them when they started a business, of course not everyone, not always, and not necessarily. The new money group is very recognizable, they are wearing designer clothes such as LV ,Gucci, Versace, Armani, Boss but very rarely Hermes and Zegna. Basically they are buying everything what their friends call art or fashionable.
The snobbery in my eyes is nothing but taking care about what others think about you .Most of mankind care about what others think, nobody wants to get badly judged by others. These people are forgetting one thing on the way to being unique: it’s not the taste of the art, not the clothes that you wear, not the place where you sleep or the belongings that you own that makes you unique, but the way that you think and what you think, and how you express your thoughts.
I’ve never cared about what others think about me. Once I was sure that penguins could fly and a snake could eat a hat. It’s just the Planet, sometimes it’s good to live here sometimes it isn’t, but always exciting.

Wednesday, 19 January 2011

Monica tits,and me

If I was a boy, I wouldn’t be able to control my erection whenever I saw sexy women.
If I was a boy, I take every girl for a one night stand and I’d never call them back, however I’d never tell them I will call you. I’d see prostitutes 4 times a week and I’d treat them like Queens.
If I was a boy I’d go for a wee in public places. In the summer I’d go out without a T-shirt showing off my big beer belly. I’d go out with the guys at least 3 times per week to play poker and the fact that I can’t cook would be charming in a women eyes. If I was a boy I’d be a very lazy bloke. I’d lay in bed ‘til midday. I’d buy all the porn mags in the world and posters of Monica Belluci tits, which I’d put on the top of the bed like others do with crucifixes or a face of Jesus.
If was a boy my girlfriends would do my washing and they’d clean my house. I wouldn’t treat them like slaves and I’d buy flowers for them every day and tell them how beautiful they are.
If I had a sexy girlfriend asking me what I think about her new dress, I’d tell her, she’s the most beautiful women on the Earth. I’d write poetry for her and I’d listen to every word she says about her soul, her needs and problems. If she cried, I’d support her and hug her till the tears stopped flowing.
I don’t like being licked down there but I’d lick her if she liked it but only if she folds my clothes and looking after my dog, donkey and horse.
If I were a boy I’d be a builder or an astronaut or maybe a fireman (women love that), or a philosopher-writer who does nothing but drinking wine and sometimes writes about bullshit and the public loves that.
I’d want to build my own house with my mates and tell everyone (literally!!!) hey muppets, look at that, that’s MY house and I built that. I’d be faithful to my girl and I’d marry her and I’d proudly tell everyone, she’s my girl. I’d never let her down and I’d be her big strong teddy bear. She will forgive my attraction to Monica Bellucci tits, because she will have enough self-confidence about how much I love her and her tits are the best.
She also will excuse me if I jerk off under the shower, she’d know it’s not about her, I’m just can’t take for granted that I have a big dick so I’d have to make sure daily.
If I were a boy I’d be honest with her and with everyone. I’d enjoy giving lovely moments to 60 years old women by flirting with them, and they can tell their girlfriends how gentlemanly I am. Probably I’d try to be an army pilot, but acting better than stupid Tom Cruise in Top Gun.
If my girl came home with the news she’s pregnant, I’d scream and I tell her, I’m afraid to be a dad, rather than pretend that’s the coolest thing in the world.

But I’m a girl and being a girl is good and cool.
But boys are sometimes cooler than us.

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

Julien,but not Sorel

One of the most controversial characters of this century is Julien Assange, the founder of www.wikileaks.com .You can hate him, you can love him but you can't ignore him. Nobody cares about the truth, while it doesn't affect their daily life. To the everyday person the information's about political corruption, illegal transactions, murders, etc, it simply doesn’t exists because it makes no differences in their life.
People don’t really care for the truth about what’s going on in the Iraqi war, no one wants to hear how many Arabian children and family where killed by American soldiers who thought, killing innocent people is funny. Every country needs heroes; it’s a sort of psychological need. They love to say; “Yeah, we won the war”, and then give hundreds of medals to soldiers  who did nothing but be involved in one of the most disgraceful wars on the Planet.
The Vatican is still holding back important information about history.
They think nobody should know the truth.

Julien Assange is brave enough to publish secret information. This century doesn’t like real heroes because they are dangerous for society. They are helping us all to think.
Think about what we live for; think about our social system. Being an who tells the truth nowadays is equivalent to being an alienated weirdo.

Thank you Julien in the name of BernieLand.



Monday, 17 January 2011

beautiful horror

After that post a lot of people will judge on me so, I have to tell everything,what I'm writing down is MY personal opinion,from MY prospective and I don't want to offend anyone in anyway,sorry if I will:-))

Lots of people asked me what I think about givig birth,and what's why i wouldn't like to have kids.

1.Pregnant women are huge,most of them look like a fridge and they always find an excuse why they are so fat(I have to eat for two,hormone's,bla bla) and after the childbirth they find other excuses why they can't be bothered to go for a walk.

2.Running around with a huge belly for 9 months is a nightmare.

3.After birth their vagina will be the size of a garage,so you have to be a horse at least to make them scream.

4.Pregnant women within and after the pregnancy going crazy,most of them losing they sex drive,getting depressed,or in a very worst scenario they stop being a women,and they are put their child first instead of their husband(who was the first arrive).

5.Giving birth its a horror,I haven't any better word for that.The bonus shock is when you first see your children,who look's like a small angry Alien,covered with blood.Never understand the enthusiastic parents that as soon as they see their kids starts to shout:He looks like meeeeeee.They dont even see their faces because of the blood,so what are they on about?However,at least you are still alive.

6.Ok,child has arrived,what's next?Non stop job,poo everywhere,no one can sleep,sleepless parents,and in the end of the day you got a small something who's gorgeous but can't speak,can't do a single thing but cry.

Im not against child birth,on the contrary,fingers crossed for everyone.I think that mum's are the bravest people on the Planet,so take my hat off to them,Really.But I prefer being a coward.

Sunday, 16 January 2011

Important Links

Women normally attach links about fashion,boys,how to cook,healthy diet LOL,gardening,sunglasses,perfums,lingerie,arts,porcelain and so on.Rubbish.One of the best site's is the http://www.nbc.com/. Anytime when you feel yourself dumped,lonely,sad just take a look at the world via NBC,CNN and you will realise,your problem is a problem,but not a tragedy.That is a huge difference.I bet if people watch more CNN,NBC the suicide statistic's will getting lower and lower.Dont get me wrong,your problem is still  problem,but as soon as you find tragedy's,real drama's via http://www.cnn.com/ you will realise your a lucky kid and the only thing that you can say to the Universe,is a big thank you for your lucky life.

Lots of man having problem to find a good porn site,without spam,viruses and free of charge so I tought I give some help: http://www.xhamster.com/ and http://www.tubekitty.com/.  Also highly recommended the http://www.porntube.com/. That site's are free of charge and you can watch full porn movies without viruses.Have fun:-)))

Manga's,dildo and the life