Adventure time!

What comes to mind when you hear the word "adventure"?

Yes. Whips. You have to be pretty adventurous to enjoy those.

And it just so happens that today I had an adventure. And no, it didn't involve a whip, you sick bastard.

So I was with a friend in this café overlooking the city, drinking orange juice and enjoying the sight of the occasional woman that passed by, when a strange building caught our attention.

At first we discussed whether it was an orthodox church or a synagogue. Then the idea of an Islamic building came to our minds, but the building was so strange we couldn't figure it out without closer inspection.

So we got down, and went in the general direction of the building. Approaching it proved surprisingly difficult, for it was shielded by other buildings from all sides. As if someone didn't want it easily accessible.

Finally, after circling the location for a few minutes we managed to find a back entrance. (or at least I think that was a back entrance)

The back alley looked like the place where Batman's parents got killed. It was very gloomy. I dared to pull the door handle, but it was broken and the door was probably barred from the inside.

Then suddenly, a bearded old man appeared. He was in a nearby house that I haven't noticed, and spoke from a window with iron bars.

"What is this building, old man?" I asked.

"Eh? That old thing? Back in the communist era it was called Public institution Worker's university Đuro Đaković. Now, in the capitalist era it's called the Bosnian Culture Center."

"B.C.C.! B.C.C.!!!" Yelled a woman from inside the house.

Public institution Worker's university. You gotta love those communist names.

WTF is a tabaku?

I can think of nothing to write about. Zip. Nada. Niente. Nichts. ペニス.

So, naturally I turn to my friends. I do have friends you know. One of them suggested I write about tabaku? "WTF is a tabaku?!" I thought. My immediate reaction was to google it. This is what I got:

Ehm. I don't think that's what he meant... but... hang on. She's kinda cute. Mmm. Yeah. Might use google picture search, no harm in that eh?

Oh my... What a milf... I'd vote for her... I think I'm in love...

For heaven's sake stop it man! You have a blog to write. 

Anyway. I need more subjects: fucked up sleep cycle, cocktails, Tesla motors.

Choices, choices...

What do I like about Tesla motors? I don't really know. I know almost nothing about them.

I do know that, unlike other electric cars, Teslas look great. And in the end, that's all that matters. Looks. Because we're superficial bastards. Maybe that's just me.

But man, just look at those legs... what I would do

Damn it. Not again.

Ok. New rule: no more milfs. Even if they are hot. And lovely. And well dressed. Just look at that hair...

I wonder if the colour of her hair is the same as her...

Food for thought.

Arrogance

What is arrogance? Off to the dictionary:

ar·ro·gant

having or revealing an exaggerated sense of one's own importance or abilities.


Am I arrogant? Well, I have opinions and theories based on observation, but are they right? And are my observations biased and opinionated? Do I have an exaggerated sense of my ability to form theories about people and their condition?

I think you can't avoid bias, especially in interpersonal matters. You can have opinions, even without knowing all the facts. 

What's that you say? 

You say that that would invariably lead to wrong conclusions? Well yes, from time to time, depending on how much facts you actually have. 

Which makes arriving at conclusions tricky when people are involved. They won't tell you all the facts. (though WHY they won't is beyond me)

Are we then condemned to be wrong about people most of the time? Maybe. Probably. 

But we need theories. To be precise, we need working theories so we can make decisions and not be paralyzed by indecisiveness. We have to accept the fact that we are constantly wrong and live with it. 

So why am I writing this?

Guilt. 

Guilt because I think I'm right. I sincerely and wholeheartedly believe I'm right most of the time.

And people don't seem to like my theories, especially when they perceive that I'm wrong. (even though I think I'm not)

So what are my choices? Lie to people about what I think or be honest (and be probably wrong)?

...

A ladybird just landed on my finger. Didn't see one for years. 

Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. 

Perhaps it's a demonstration of the folly of human conceit... of my conceit.

It's gone now. I am alone.

Moving forward

It would appear that my last post has attracted an audience. Furthermore, it has inspired one person to start writing. But in this cruel world, not everyone is as talented as I am, so my dear Isabelle was unable to think of anything to write about. So I proposed we write a dialogue.

The following is the result of my brilliant idea. 

Do not read this if you have a heart condition. I will not be held responsible for anything that may happen to you while reading this dialogue.

Me: How do we start?

You're the English student.

Isabelle: If I had an idea, I would write a story or smth

Me: Maybe we should set some ground rules first.

Safety first eh?

I: Like what

Me: If, at any point, you're uncomfortable with where the conversation is going, type:

"I like your bottom. It is exquisite."

Deal?

I: Deal.

Me: Ehm, might as well introduce yourself.

I: I'll let you do it  first.

Me: You're too kind.

Hmm. Who am I?

I am a man with very dense hair.

I enjoy drinking cocktails, reading, and most of all fondling delicate lady parts.

I: Is it my turn now?

Me: Yes.

Go ahead.

I: Ah, I never know what to say when talking about myself.

Me: Don't you have any character?

Any trait to speak of?

I: I'm afraid everything I say will be used against me at one point

Me: All right, let's make it an interview then.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul.

Why not start there?

What's the colour of your eyes?

I: They are dark brown, sometimes they even seem red.

Me: Oh.

I see.

Are you a demon?

A succubus?

I: Haha, not myself, but you can say there are demons within me.

Me: Is that a medical condition?

I: No. Maybe. I don't know.

I'm very indecisive.

Me: "Or am I?"

Moving on. Is this indecisiveness affecting your love life?

And don't say: "I'm unsure."

I: Yes. I never know what to do.

Am I really feeling something...or not

Me: Hmm, it does seem like a medical condition.

What are you feeling now?

Describe the sensations.

I: It is hot. I am annoyed at the fact that there are too many people in the house.

I am also hungry.

And amused

Me: Do you feel trapped?

I: No, just hungry.

But I won't eat until they leave.

Me: Let's focus on the positives then. What is the source of your amusement?

I: My mom got magnets for the fridge

she looks like a child on Christmas morning

Me: Never understood the fascination people have with refrigerator magnets.

I: Wherever her best friend goes, she brings those

Me: Maybe, she's escaping the grey, dull everyday existence. Those magnets are all that's standing between meaninglessness of life and death.

Is life really that valuable? Are we deluding ourselves?

Good heavens, that took a dark turn. Say something happy quick!

I like your bottom. It is exquisite.

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

Well, I would say that went great, didn't it? Didn't it? How dare you suggest otherwise?! 

Wait, who am I talking to?

Fake pyramids

Today was a lovely day. A perfect day to climb a pyramid - if you have someone to climb it with, which sadly, I don't. Well, that's not entirely true, since I know quite a few ladies that would gladly follow me anywhere. To them it is the company that matters, not the actual trip. (something I'm guilty of myself) However none of them are really all that interesting, and have their own motives so I've abandoned that idea.

But then again, I don't really care about pyramids; especially fake pyramids. Yes. There are such things in this world. I do care about cats though. When I say cats, I mean my cat, Rex which has decided it's a good idea to sleep in my lap as I type this dribble.

I have to sit like a schoolgirl now, so that I don't disturb Rex's sleep. I guess I'm a nice guy when cats are concerned. However, by balls are getting warm now and I have it on good authority that the reason that the balls are on the outside of the body (a dreadful design flaw) is because of temperature regulation; and I'm quite fond of my balls. I don't mean I have an affection towards them, it's just that they release testosterone and that's what makes me a man. I quite like being a man.

Rex has farted.

...

Rex has been escorted out of the room.

Now. Where was I?

Oh yes, balls. Hmm. Come to think of it, it's a rather bad subject for a first ever blog post.

Oh my.

Is this how I'll be remembered? By balls?

What am I saying. Get a grip.

Dear reader, I would like to apologize for my display of vanity and mentioning balls too many times. I promise there will be no mention of balls in the following posts. (damn it, I did it again)