I'm dumping you guys...

Well not really...

Simply, I'm done with my Hiatus, a post, hiatus again, so I'll just stay on the french blog, save the fact that it will now be a bilingual blog.
If the post comes to my mind in english, then english it will be, if not, then it shall be french.
no picking between a language or another.

Same if I decide half of it should be in french and the other half in english. So be it.

Updates your favorites, get your french /english dictionaries and go to http://nefisa.blogspot.com

I'll transfer the archive list there too.
see you on the other side...

edible trade

Had a rather odd exchange of ideas with a friend whose name is... Z let's say (for his own sake)

It all started very nicely by him asking the recipe of a french dish (tartiflette if that inspires any one) so he wouldn't look like a total loser when some friend of him would come over this week end.
Fair enough, but that lazy bum being the lazy bum he is, he asked me for a recipe that wouldn't take more than ten minutes to cook and would still taste good.

Fair enough, I'd said I'll have a look, but in exchange he had to help me find a gift for George's upcoming birthday.

He tried hard the poor thing.

Edible underwears...

That was his idea.

Gosh man, you know what, if that's your fantasy (and definately not George's one, I can garantee it) I'll send you some for your birthday. (you being too chicken I suppose to enter a Ann Summers and buy some) .

The task of finding a woman to fit in, I'll leave it to you . :p

Copy cat

Yesterday, assessing the situation I realised the need for me to cut off my internet time spent browsing from blog to blog and to turn that huge amount of time into browsing from jobsite to jobsite.

So I downloaded some RSS/Atom feed crap and I just have to wait for updates to show up.
On the process of updating those feed I fell again on felicity's blog, and noticed (oh yes!!!) that she's writing again.

Considering I'm lazy and blood deprived this morning, I' just taking that test thing out of her blog. And see what happens next ( that is, if my nose doesn't start again playing the nile's first cataracts during the 10 plagues thingie)

Psychoanalyze Yourself.
Answer the following questions with the first thought that comes to mind. Then read what each answer means.

1. You are not alone. You are walking in the woods. With who?

Well, Georges. Who else ?

2. You are walking in the woods. You see an animal. What kind of animal is it?

A wild boar. What else ?

3. What interaction takes place between you and the animal?

It charges, I climb the nearest tree, build a bow (I always have ropes and a knife in my pocket if I'm in the forest) and scare it away, I hope.

4. You walk deeper in the woods. You enter a clearing and before you is your dream house, what does it look like??

A farm, old one preferably.

5. Is your dream house surrounded by a fence?

It's a goddamn farm Do I let the pigs wander out in the forest ? Duh...

6. You enter the house. You walk in to the dining room and see the dining room table what do you see on and around it?

Cactuses. A fireplace and a good deal of chests of drawers and other storage for my beloved crockery.

7. You exit the house and a cup is on the ground, what kind is it?

A large strong mug, anything else would break in no time with me around.

8. What do you do with the cup?

I help myself with some green tea.

9. You walk to the edge of the property where you find yourself standing?(has to be water) A large lively stream.noisy if possible, so it sounds nice from the house.

10. How will you cross the water?

Dunno, is it summer or winter ? Winter, I obviously build a bridge, and summer I cross it by foot.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. The person who you are walking in the woods with is the most important person in your life.

Darn, I wouldn't have guess that one ...

2. The size of the animal is representative of your perception of the size of your problems in your life.

Phew, I could have said a mammouth...

3. The severity of the interaction you have with the animal is representative of how you deal with your problems.

From high ?

4. The size of your dream home is representative of the size of your ambition to solve your problems.

A farm is quite big a ambition for a problem the size of a wild boar...

5. A lack of a fence is indicative of an open personality. People are welcome at all times. The presence of a fence indicates a closed personality.

Oh well, give a call before you pass by, and that should do the trick.

6. If your answer did NOT include food, flowers, or people, then you are generally unhappy.

Cactuses are flowers. I'm not too keen about pollens entering my house.


7. The durability of the material with the cup is made of is representative of the perceived durability of your relationships.

I'm going to suppose Georges is of the unbreakable kind then.

8. Your disposition of the cup is representative of your attitude.

On a diet ?

9. The size of the body of water is representative of the size of your sexual desire.

Geez...

10. How wet you get in crossing the water is indicative of the relative importance of your sex life.

With up's and downs ? my libido is working part-time ? seasonal ?

That was a stupid test indeed.

no wonder

Not sure anybody is still popping here. Don't care much anyway...
Not sure either I'm feeling inspired at the moment to blabber funny writty interesting stuff in English, the french blog is doing alright though...

'Nyways... my sisters joined us at my dad.

At the train station, my dad's shoulders already dropped a few inches, and a couple of wrinkles appeared, after five minutes all together in the car, he was already consedering to shorten his holidays, and restart work on the days after (that is a sunday) .

At tea time, he was muttering that somehow it was a shame the flat was only on the first floor, as a jump from the terrace wouldn't be deadly enough;

At nine, pretexting the sudden urge for a walk, he left.

It's been a week now.
I never knew my dad was so keen at walking.

yeah, me is back !!!!

What do i do first ? do I apologise for my long non-posting period, or do i go first to check my stats to see if anybody is still popping here every now and then?

Well whatever, that couple of months break is mostly due to the fact that for once i wasn't willing to lose my french the same way i have been doing since i'm living in the UK. So i just wrote on the french blog instead.

All apologies again, I suppose.

Now that i'm on my way back to France for good, it is now essential that i keep an eye on my english. So, back to basics with the good old blogging sessions.

So what' s up here ?

I didn't get married. Gio and I got engaged on the 20th of april. (yeah old news already isn't it?)

So far so good (if not better:) )

Thanos is already booked for the bestman role during the upcoming wedding. And he'd better bring along a translator coz I'm not gonna do the bloody job while Gio is gently slipping my wedding band on my lovely little finger.

Next piece of news will be the fact that we are moving to the south of france in about a dozen day.

George is gonna have to learn french, I wish him lots of fun.
And it 's about time we move, considering I just commited another Mr Bean blunder with the neighbours.
Basically, i was hanging my laundry in the garden, the neighbours where in theirs, the mother and one daughter, feeding the rabbits.

And while bending to get some clothe pins out of their box, I inavertandly let out one of my lovely boob. (my bad for wearing such a tiny top with no bra, you'll say, but hell, i was just going in the garden.
At the same time a lovely gush of warm wind made my skirt fly around my waist uncovering the unsexiest underwear I have in my wardrobe,(once again, I was only going to the garden).

Incidently that's the exact moment the mother and daughter chose to turn toward me and acknowledge my presence.

Goodness gracious me...

Well, i just frantically pushed Miss booby back into it's cotton nest, and did a monroe look "oh my god, is there something happening to my dress ? "
...
And hid behind the large towel i just hanged.



I'm back hiding under the bed now...

Escape plan # 3 : the wedding

This is not really an escape plan.Understand it as a nice break into our monotonous routine in Coventry (not so monotonous, but still a bit of change is always welcomed) .

On the 20th of April, George and I are getting married. For the first time, we then intend to get married twice more, but that' s for later.

The wedding will take place in the Alexandra Palace in London. And there will be a big trance party at the same time.

You don't get a thing do you ?

George inadvertently asked me to marry me sometime this week. After seeing pictures of that Alexandra Palace where we're going to a trance party in April, I was bored in my cloackroom and texted him asking as a joke if we would rent the palace for our wedding. George, apparently bored in his bar downstairs replied back that I should then dress in white on the day of the trance party. I took it for a proposal.

So here we go.

We are still arguing to decide if our mate Thanos is gonna be his best man or if he'll be my bride's maid (I think he'll look lovely in a pink dress, but god knows why, George disagrees)

And we still have to find out if the VIP tickets we bought for the party include the rental of the nuptial suit...

Kids aren't alright.

Three hours from now I'll be in the cloakroom of the nightclub, most certainly hesitating between going to the backroom cry on a bunch of coats or laughing my heart out. (and no I don't care knowing is laughing your heart out is actually the right way to express what i mean) .
we're having a kids night.
Hundred of small kids and teenagers are gonna pour into the club, playing the big guys and the "I've seen everything" girls and oh boy... we're gonna have a laugh...

I'll tell you about when it's done.

Escape plan # 2 : the 16 children

As mentionned in the prévious post, George and I are going to leave Coventry within the next few months. But we need to schedule it carefully. The second escape plan we came up is : the sixteen children.

If we start early, we can have all of them ready within fifteen years. Now, you ask yourself, what can be the use of being the blessed parents of a plethora of noisy, dirty, annoying kids ?

Don't worry, we ain't gonna keep all of them. How many rich american families would be ready to give a fortune to possess one of these nice caucasian looking kids. And no matter who the kids look more alike with, wether it's got my blue eyes or Geoge's brown hair, nobody' s gonna be fussy about it, I swear they'll all be so damn cute !!
So, say, we keep 12 of them and we give away four of them we don't quite fancy, that' s already good money.

Then, with the twelve brats remaining, how much in allowances and benefits from the state can you get ? A lot I presume.
And you don' t really have to spend the money on them, do you ? A few potatoe bags can do fine as clothing items, and the can live on eggs/ porridge/ apples diet. With a piece on bacon on top on sundays.

Also, you don' t have to pay your own kids to make them accomplish various chores.
Well tam... bre...raised they can perform most little businesses around, and bring the money home to their beloved mum and dad.
I mean, that four-year-old toddler who was having a walk in the park with his big sister, and who just basically jumped into your arms, beaming at you, with his cute blue shiny eyes and his lovely little nose. How in the world can you suspect him to be the one who nicked your wallet ?

And those twin girls, barely ten-years-old, playing in the street with their nice little doll, in front of your yard on that nice sunday afternoon. Is it them you're going to report to the police when someone broke into your house when you where walking the dog ? No, but we loved your jewellery very much anyway... cheers for that.

Let's add, if any of those kid has any peculiar talent or striking ability. Why not work it to the core, create another of those kid-star freak and get all the money into our pocket. Like the kid is gonna notice anything anyway...

Here are only a few means to make a living out of our kids (we can also employ them at the pig farm... )
Now, we might as well get started....
you guys have a good evening.

Escape plan #1 : the pig farm

George and I are gonna leave Coventry in a few months, so we're making plans for the future.
Here is one of our project.

The pig farm.
You may laugh. Pigs stinks and honnestly you can't make much money out of them. But, you are misleaded herre. You can eat pigs. And also, pigs eat anything. Or almost.

So try and picture it. A sunny summer afternoon in the south of England. In a nice, but shabby looking cottage. In front, George, smoking a cigarette in a rocking chair, humming some good ol' drum'n'bass anthem. (no, I won't make him sing some silly greek song... no way) Me somewhere around in a old fashion summer dress even my grandmother would refuse to wear and big green plastic boots, taking care of the weed.(the weed, not the weeds, we'll still need some extra revenues)
In the back coming from behind a grange, some random Groiink, popping into the hot air...
Peaace and quiet. From the grange, some random unidentified noises.

Then the noise of car. Looking oddly out of place, you can see a huge Mercedes engage in the pathway. They stop in front of the house. I come near the back window of the car, that comes down and the smell of a costy cigare fills yhe sourroundings of the car. We have a quick talk and a fat envelopp disappears in the pocket of my apron.
I glance quiclky at George who walks toward the trunk of the car, opens it. Seems to check something inside. And he whistles twice, quickly. Half a dozen of kids pop out of the grange, and rush towards the car. They get out of the trunk a couple of bulky things wrapped in huge black plastic bags. and they dissapear back, silent and efficient, into the grange.

George nods at the chauffeur, I get into the house. And the car reverses and leaves the place.
Back to normal, and the air is only disturbed by the sound of the electric saw in the grange and the groink of the pigs int he back.

You wonder what happened ?

Pigs can eat anything. They 'll take care of a human body in a night. Granted you took off the hair and teeth.
How many mafias and dodgy policemen would like to see their dead bodies evaporate so quickly ?
(and if you wondered about the half dozen kids, that' s another story...)