<?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-4928958231989729205</id><updated>2011-11-28T01:35:02.110+02:00</updated><category term='copilarie'/><category term='emotii'/><category term='noroc'/><title type='text'>A blog about NOTHING</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Alx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09140379397935202251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/S3qfHbVi3uI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9_3pIF8-2Ws/S220/alexa1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928958231989729205.post-7853146343290487251</id><published>2010-11-30T12:33:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T12:40:02.780+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/TPTUbZsg0QI/AAAAAAAAAHE/3bDM51Jtk_w/s1600/sOnX7FDx6qzo1m6dK7D2BkE6o1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 197px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/TPTUbZsg0QI/AAAAAAAAAHE/3bDM51Jtk_w/s400/sOnX7FDx6qzo1m6dK7D2BkE6o1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545290608419066114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;she knew he had unbreakable professional commitment this night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;yet she prayed he could still somehow be at her side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;for this very public affair she was hosting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;she looked like a goddess tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;ready way too early&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;and pacing the floor like a nervous tigress&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;he was just out of his shower and dried&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;pulled her close to him and simply said “breathe”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;she calmed somewhat but he knew she needed more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;he pressed her back til her perfect ass landed on the table’s edge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;he snagged her thong and tossed it behind him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;and before she could speak he quietly said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;“I know what you need”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;pressed her back on the circular wood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;and gave her the tongue-lashed, fingering of her life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;halfway through, she knew too this would keep her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;hummingly peaceful yet radiantly stirred through her tenuous night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;so she wrapped her fingers round his head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;pulled him in harder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;and rode his unshaven face&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;until she was lost in a multi-peaked wild nirvana cumsong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;and he was drenched in her musk and teary gratitude&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;he used his tossed towel to dry her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;gently replaced her luscious thong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;gave her a hard smack on the ass and smiled&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;“anytime you get nervous tonight, think of this’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;she kissed him and tousled his hair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;unable to from any words but a whispered “thank you”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;she blushed as she walked to the door lest she be late&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;feeling herself dampen again already&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;with the echoed tickle of his bearded kiss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;she mouthed the silent words ‘I love you’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;and disappeared with a lip-biting, purring grin....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928958231989729205-7853146343290487251?l=ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/feeds/7853146343290487251/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2010/11/she-knew-he-had-unbreakable.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/7853146343290487251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/7853146343290487251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2010/11/she-knew-he-had-unbreakable.html' title=''/><author><name>Alx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09140379397935202251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/S3qfHbVi3uI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9_3pIF8-2Ws/S220/alexa1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/TPTUbZsg0QI/AAAAAAAAAHE/3bDM51Jtk_w/s72-c/sOnX7FDx6qzo1m6dK7D2BkE6o1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928958231989729205.post-7995131232757420908</id><published>2010-02-12T21:20:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T22:54:12.571+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='copilarie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='emotii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noroc'/><title type='text'>Shortcut to happiness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/S3W5vFczCNI/AAAAAAAAADc/GiVRnrzjXhY/s1600-h/happiness-in-perpetuity-paul-bond.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/S3W5vFczCNI/AAAAAAAAADc/GiVRnrzjXhY/s400/happiness-in-perpetuity-paul-bond.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437456343687694546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi ridic pleoapele cu greu si simt ca am ochii creponati de somn. Ca de obicei, o ora inaintata. Mi se pare destul de devreme, insa soarele insista printre jaluzele sa imi provoace o injuratura. inca 5 minute si sunt gata.&lt;br /&gt;in letargia ultimului fir de somn ... imi amintesc de aseara.&lt;br /&gt;trecand pe la 2 noaptea pe strazile din Constanta soarta m-a oprit la stop. la o intersectie dintre 2 bulevarde mari, mi-am dat seama. mi-am imaginat ca sunt intr-un oras cu totul nou pe care il vizitez pentru prima data. cum e posibil ca o intersectie atat de cunoscuta sa imi provoace atata curiozitate? verific fiecare parte a tabloului cu lux de amanunte si ma minunez. am trecut prin locul asta de atatea ori, insa, in linistea noptii, in lumina becurilor ma simteam ca pe un teren virgin. mi-au trecut prin minte clipele minunate ale curiozitatii infatile cand mergeam pentru prima data cu bunicii in statiuni din tara si ochii cautau noutati si exceptii.&lt;br /&gt;apoi mi-am dat seama. avem nevoie in viata de un buton de resetare care sa ne ajute sa revedem lucrurile cu ochi inocenti de copil?&lt;br /&gt;nu am putut decat sa zambesc. nu stiu cand ma voi mai intalni cu un astfel de moment. ceva brusc fara un scenariu pus la punct. o emotie de moment.&lt;br /&gt;poate sa iti para hilar si stupid.&lt;br /&gt;mi-am dat seama ca inca mai exista speranta intr-un zambet si ca oamenii il confunda adeseori cu o schimonoseala obligatorie, de bun simt, profitabila poate...&lt;br /&gt;am simtit ca in cateva secunde rosii de semafor, am coborat cu anii, cu inaltimea, inocenta si grijile... in primii ani ai copilariei... si nu era nimic rau in asta. mi-as fi dorit sa lacrimez.&lt;br /&gt;macar odata. nu am putut. se pare ca totusi, oricat mi-as fi dorit sa fiu din nou copil, visul meu era al unui om matur, care plange greu, care a invatat sa isi controleze emotiile, putin imbatranit de atatea rautati, decizii, principii, invidii, stres, deceptii si deziluzii...&lt;br /&gt;singurul motiv pentru care as varsa o lacrima este rezultatul atator ani pierduti in sentimente gri.&lt;br /&gt;cautam fericirea cu disperare, dar nu o intelegem. aceasta utopie dulce pe care o confundam cu pofte carnale, cu iluzii desarte, cu minciuni si zambete false.&lt;br /&gt;fericirea e o emotie. atat de pura incat nu ii mai putem face fata. ca aerul de munte.&lt;br /&gt;ma pierd si nu imi dau seama.&lt;br /&gt;poate soarele ce imi zgarie ochii acum, printre jaluzele ma impinge cu insistenta sa cred sunt norocoasa ca il pot vedea si ca am un motiv in plus de a zambi.&lt;br /&gt;cui ii pasa ce divinitate vegheaza asupra noastra? cand noi suntem conducatorii propriilor noastre trupuri si ca in momente de emotivitate iesita din comun ne pierdem vorbele si rosim copilareste sau asternem 2 lacrimi.&lt;br /&gt;decat o viata subjugata apatiei si lipsei de interes... prefer sa imbatranesc cu amintirea unor lacrimi sincere si zambete stupid de copilaroase.&lt;br /&gt;intr-un final a trebuit sa ma trezesc la realiate. un sofer nervos a zburat pe langa mine intr-o masina zgomotoasa.&lt;br /&gt;in ultimile secunde verzi am avut de ales : sa imi continui drumul sau sa mai raman cateva clipe in visare?&lt;br /&gt;se pare ca orice ai face soarta iti ofera minuni intr-o proportie atat de infima incat sunt sortite uitarii.&lt;br /&gt;a trebuit sa plec. magia disparuse intr-o fractiune de secunda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cand o usa a fericirii se inchide, o alta se deshide; dar, deseori, ne uitam atat de mult la usa inchisa incat nu o mai vedem pe cea care s-a deschis pentru noi. "– Helen Adams Keller&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928958231989729205-7995131232757420908?l=ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/feeds/7995131232757420908/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2010/02/shortcut-to-happiness.html#comment-form' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/7995131232757420908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/7995131232757420908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2010/02/shortcut-to-happiness.html' title='Shortcut to happiness'/><author><name>Alx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09140379397935202251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/S3qfHbVi3uI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9_3pIF8-2Ws/S220/alexa1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/S3W5vFczCNI/AAAAAAAAADc/GiVRnrzjXhY/s72-c/happiness-in-perpetuity-paul-bond.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928958231989729205.post-2180854297963400406</id><published>2009-10-24T21:19:00.007+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T22:26:33.368+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tribute to a queen.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/SuNScgznSkI/AAAAAAAAACo/EzXa8ByuIHs/s1600-h/2370534306_bd9b93c2d6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/SuNScgznSkI/AAAAAAAAACo/EzXa8ByuIHs/s400/2370534306_bd9b93c2d6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396247428316219970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;furioasa si frustrata, calca apasat... tocurile inalte scartaie pe trotuar ... este drumul ei. nimeni nu ii sta in cale. in cap se invart cuvinte nespuse, intrebari neadresate, raspunsuri pe care le astepta.&lt;br /&gt;"cum a putut sa imi faca asta???" " m-am umilit" "nenorocitul" " e un idiot ca si tasu" " ii spun ce ma doare si ca un bou ce e, nu pricepe nimic. se uita la mine uimit si ma intreaba ce s-a intamplat. tot eu sunt nebuna!" "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! futu-i mortzii lui de idiot"&lt;br /&gt;dintii ii scrashnesc intr-un gust amar, pumnii se inclesteaza cu puterea pe care nu stia ca o are.&lt;br /&gt;Stia ca avea pe cineva, dar nu se astepta sa ajunga in punctul in care se va trezi la realitate. Visa intr-un final in care ori ea se va descorotosi plictisita de el, ori vor fi impreuna intr-un etern. In niciun caz nu visa la un cosmar abrupt, la o furtuna ametitoare. o tornada de vorbe grele se invalmasesc in sufletul ei izbutand sa iasa pe gura sub forma celor mai brute injuraturi.&lt;br /&gt;as fi putut sa ii dau dreptate.&lt;br /&gt;o inima franta nu cunoaste circumstante atenuante. sa prezici totul e ca si cum ai gusta aceiasi prajitura de care stii ca iti va aduce acelasi numar de calorii sub curea.&lt;br /&gt;paseste des si inegal. incearca sa isi aminteasca totul, sa treaca in revista tot ce s-a intamplat , dar nu reuseste. e momentul in care devine &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;femeie&lt;/span&gt;.  a crezut ca va iesi triumfatoare dar adversarul a prins-o cu garda la pamant. O vei intalni oriunde pe strazi, nu se va sfii sa isi exteorizeze durerea; vei trece pe langa ea si nu vei intelege, o vei privi mirat sau alaturi de prietenii tai vei face o gluma stupida pe seama ei.&lt;br /&gt;sleita de propriile lacrimi, de privirile oamenilor din jur care o privesc ca pe o ciudatenie a naturii, se linisteste si devine fada. nu mai vede, nu mai intelege, nu mai simte, trece printre cei din jur ca un fulg in vant. in inertia ei, creierul ramane singurul stalp de rezistenta. cu o feminitate ranita, cu un razboi pierdut impotriva propriilor principii, ea nu realizeaza ca ochii ei inecati in lacrimi, sunt mai frumosi ca oricand.&lt;br /&gt;murdariti de rimel si cu un machiaj distrus, fata ii radiaza. buzele ii devin mai carnoase si se inrosesc dupa fiecare muscatura suferita.&lt;br /&gt;o privesc si ma indragostesc de ea.&lt;br /&gt;Ca rezultat al unui masochism iesit din comun, aceasta femeie cu inima franta, cu lacrimi in ochi si cu sentimente calcate in picioare, va surprinde pe oricine ii va cunoaste povestea, in momentul in care, invingand durerea, va pasi ca o adevarata supravietuitoare a unei tornade naucitoare, cu parul aranjat, cu machiajul perfect, in aceleasi tocuri inalte; o rana cicatrizata pe inima.&lt;br /&gt;Va privi din nou in ochi, se va lasa privita, te va lasa sa o visezi sa speri la ea, chiar daca in sufletul ei, la fiecare incercare de a o cuceri, se va simti scarbita si violata verbal. Iti vei dovedi mediocritatea in fata ei. Vei face parte din &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;gramada&lt;/span&gt;. In mintea ei vei fi stantzat si aruncat in gunoi. Daca ai noroc, o s-o "futi" odata si te vei imbata cu ideea ca o vei calari si ca iti vei manifesta dorinta animalica, ea va casca plictisita gandindu-se la ce are de facut maine. Nu vei reusi sa ajungi decat la rangul de vibrator cu &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;extras&lt;/span&gt; (engl) la care se va uita uimita chiar amuzata cum se manifesta o gorila in calduri.&lt;br /&gt;Victima colaterala a acestui joc, nu vei intelege, o te vei simti frustrat si neimplinit, o vei jigni, o s-o compatimesti si o vei parasi ca un las cu superficialitate'ti nativa.&lt;br /&gt;In final, te vei intoarce la iubita ta care te asteapta cuminte acasa si o vei uita.&lt;br /&gt;Patetic...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928958231989729205-2180854297963400406?l=ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/feeds/2180854297963400406/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2009/10/tribute-to-queen.html#comment-form' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/2180854297963400406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/2180854297963400406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2009/10/tribute-to-queen.html' title='Tribute to a queen.'/><author><name>Alx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09140379397935202251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/S3qfHbVi3uI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9_3pIF8-2Ws/S220/alexa1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/SuNScgznSkI/AAAAAAAAACo/EzXa8ByuIHs/s72-c/2370534306_bd9b93c2d6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928958231989729205.post-1778800018232153868</id><published>2009-10-21T23:07:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T23:41:27.515+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Un blog despre NIMIC, o viata daruita gasirii si intelegerii scopului pentru care o parcurgem.&lt;br /&gt;Mereu m-am considerat cu un pas inaintea sau inapoia persoanelor din jurul meu. Mereu m-am considerat diferita. Tind sa vad si sa descopar lucrurile in abstract. Imi place cand totul devine complicat. Imi place sa complic. Imi fac deseori viata un cosmar si am impresia ca masochismul meu cateodata se impleteste cu dorinta de a fi in centru dupa care ma despart complet si ciudat de ce ma face sa zambesc. Niciodata nu am stiut ce vreau de la viata, de la oamenii din jurul meu. Rareori prietenii mei se cunosc intre ei. Niciodata nu mi-am ales prieteni pe criterii. M-am considerat ca o "barca a lui Noe" si am incercat sa invat mai multe despre oameni prin diversificarea lor. Iubesc oamenii. Chiar daca imi fac rau.&lt;br /&gt;Niciodata nu am avut o relatie serioasa dupa care sa plang sau sa oftez la geam cand ploua. Mereu sentimentele "albastre" includeau oftica sau orgoliul prostesc.&lt;br /&gt;Ma simt marginalizata indirect de persoanele cu care iau contact si evit discutiile legate de relatii bazate pe sentimente mai mult decat pe placeri fizice. Daca totusi intru intr-o astfel de discutie o fac din proprie initiativa si caut rapid motiv de cearta. Dependenta de inceputuri frumoase. Obisnuita sa fiu dezamagita atat de lumea din jur cat si de mine. Cel mai des de mine.&lt;br /&gt;Indeajuns de capricioasa si de ciudata cat sa ajung sa scot din minti chiar si cel mai calm om (inalnit pana acum :) ) am momente cand si eu cedez. Ador oamenii ciudati, care iti ridica semne de intrebare care te stimuleaza sa iti doresti sa ii cunosti, sa le iubesti capriciile. Specii feminine n-am intalnit. Barbati da. Pentru o clipa cred ca am putut simula atasamentul. Spun asta pentru ca sunt pedepsita de propria-mi karma. Este momentul in care simularea ia sfarsit. " Am pe cineva." aceste 3 cuvinte  - 3 palme date intr-un moment inoportun dar care ma trezesc la realitate.&lt;br /&gt;In astfel  de momente tot ce pot simti este doar un gust amar si tot ce pot face e sa ma obisnuiesc cu el si poate ignorandu-l va disparea. Nu vreau sa ma gandesc ca poate toate aceste palme reprezinta intoarcerea impotriva-mi a tuturor greselilor facute. Dupa cum spuneam, imi plac inceputurile. Niciodata nu voi renunta sa sper, sa visez la un nou capitol, mereu voi incerca sa invat; niciodata sa pun in aplicare.&lt;br /&gt;Ma opresc aici. Noapte buna.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928958231989729205-1778800018232153868?l=ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/feeds/1778800018232153868/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2009/10/un-blog-despre-nimic-o-viata-daruita.html#comment-form' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/1778800018232153868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/1778800018232153868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2009/10/un-blog-despre-nimic-o-viata-daruita.html' title=''/><author><name>Alx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09140379397935202251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/S3qfHbVi3uI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9_3pIF8-2Ws/S220/alexa1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928958231989729205.post-8323532941906569460</id><published>2009-10-16T02:27:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T02:36:26.314+03:00</updated><title type='text'>mitologii amînate</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/Stex7580eKI/AAAAAAAAABY/NJQQVdT_Thc/s1600-h/frosk1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/Stex7580eKI/AAAAAAAAABY/NJQQVdT_Thc/s400/frosk1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392974721525774498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aş redacta o nouă mitologie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;despre dragoste:&lt;br /&gt;ador să-ţi număr hainele dimineaţa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;despre război:&lt;br /&gt;să nu ne încurce în pat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;despre beţie:&lt;br /&gt;unii scuipă prin cîrciumi&lt;br /&gt;cum ar scuipa în burţile mamelor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ai cunoscut doar bărbaţi care pleacă&lt;br /&gt;nici unul nu şi-a pus pentru tine&lt;br /&gt;sufletul de duminică&lt;br /&gt;n-a fost de partea ta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;n-a desenat rochii&lt;br /&gt;în care să arăţi ca o regină polară&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chiar şi veştile de la ei spun&lt;br /&gt;doar că nu e uşor&lt;br /&gt;să trăieşti&lt;br /&gt;cu amintirea atîtor taxiuri&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;trecutul umblă toată ziua pe străzi&lt;br /&gt;sînt multe feluri în care se vede&lt;br /&gt;mereu dai peste cineva de atunci&lt;br /&gt;de parcă timpul ar fi un şir de nimicuri ieftine&lt;br /&gt;dăruite din obligaţie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cred că înfrîngerea sîngelui e o boală&lt;br /&gt;să te rogi într-o limbă pe care n-o ştii&lt;br /&gt;să-ţi lingă mîinile cîinii bătuţi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;toţi supravieţuim unui număr&lt;br /&gt;de întîlniri neprevăzute&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928958231989729205-8323532941906569460?l=ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/feeds/8323532941906569460/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2009/10/mitologii-aminate.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/8323532941906569460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/8323532941906569460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2009/10/mitologii-aminate.html' title='mitologii amînate'/><author><name>Alx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09140379397935202251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/S3qfHbVi3uI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9_3pIF8-2Ws/S220/alexa1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/Stex7580eKI/AAAAAAAAABY/NJQQVdT_Thc/s72-c/frosk1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928958231989729205.post-8358727884070786560</id><published>2009-10-05T16:49:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T17:51:57.656+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Disperate women who would belive anything</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/SsoIA5Ir8SI/AAAAAAAAAAU/MQbBZNGBDB4/s1600-h/772ef9a95e78334f4c7a3ec57d9fc6e4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/SsoIA5Ir8SI/AAAAAAAAAAU/MQbBZNGBDB4/s320/772ef9a95e78334f4c7a3ec57d9fc6e4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389128715532497186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu este o noutate pentru nimeni ca aceasta planeta detine mai multe Eve decat Adami. Frumoase sau urate, grase sau slabe... intr-un numar mai mare, ele creaza diversitatea pe care barbatii o invoca, de exemplu, atunci cand sunt trasi la raspundere pentru o aventura.&lt;br /&gt;cercetatorii sustin ca dupa o partida de sex buna, femela secreta hormonul numit &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;estradiol &lt;/span&gt;care induce acesteia pe langa starea de atasament fata de mascul sau nevoia de a fi imbratisata si iubita, cat si acele intrebari ce rasuna in mintea femeii satisfacute, ca de exemplu : oare ma va mai suna, oare a fost prea devreme, ce parere are despre mine acum, daca nu ma suna in cateva zile..... ce vrea sa insemne, etc.&lt;br /&gt;complicate si profunde, este ciudat cat timp le ia unor femei sa treaca in revista, alaturi de prietene la o cafea, tot ce au facut, ca acestea sa analizeze si sa ofere cele mai bune solutii (nu si cele mai corecte) unei reprezentate cu moralul la pamant. Aceasta operatiune poate dura ore intregi si poate starpi nopti intregi de somn bun de "infrumusetare" din dorinta de a-si explica ultimile evenimente importante din viata ei.&lt;br /&gt;in cazul in care vei incerca sa ii deschizi mintea sa ii explici realitatea, esti la un pas de a deveni un "dusman" al femeii care incearca sa creada orice, numai sa fie "roz".&lt;br /&gt;din toate povestile ascultate de la "diverse", am ajuns sa imi pun intrebarea : Un sex bun inseamna o relatie de viitor, o casnicie reusita.. un viitor implinit? Cat de departe poate merge o femeie visand la fericire? Suntem prea sperficiale sa credem in dragoste la prima vedere, scuze stupide, flori si atentii doar in momente de impas?&lt;br /&gt;Acum ceva timp am ascultat parerea unei prietene ce imi spunea ca ea si-a suprins prietenul cu o alta persoana facand sex, dar pe care l-a iertat intr-un final, in urma unei discutii in care el si-a scuzat fapta prin simpla abatere stupida si vesnicul " a fost doar o partida de sex, nu a insemnat nimic " adaugand "extras" precum mici atentii de care ea nu se bucurase pana acum din partea lui.&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca o analiza mai pronuntata asupra "lui" inaintea de a ajunge direct pat, in balanta cu dorintele tale si o respectare mai mare a propriei persoane, te scutesc de tot finalul nefericit.&lt;br /&gt;De-a lungul timpului am observat ca femeile sunt atrase de barbati inalti , cu spatele lat si brate puternice, ceea ce indica un lucru de care multe femei puternice se tem sa il recunoasca " femeile doresc sa fie protejate". Nu salvate ci protejate.&lt;br /&gt;Cu toate acestea, de ce este nevoie sa ajungem sa credem orice din dorinta de a nu "muri singure"????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928958231989729205-8358727884070786560?l=ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/feeds/8358727884070786560/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2009/10/disperate-women-who-would-belive.html#comment-form' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/8358727884070786560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928958231989729205/posts/default/8358727884070786560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ultimatecinderella.blogspot.com/2009/10/disperate-women-who-would-belive.html' title='Disperate women who would belive anything'/><author><name>Alx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09140379397935202251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/S3qfHbVi3uI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9_3pIF8-2Ws/S220/alexa1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uc2VTeSNZvM/SsoIA5Ir8SI/AAAAAAAAAAU/MQbBZNGBDB4/s72-c/772ef9a95e78334f4c7a3ec57d9fc6e4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
