September, 2007 Arhiv

Sep 30

Tale je ziher naredil doktorat iz “rokodelstva”, LOL.


[Kliknite "click here", da se vam odpre okno s filmčkom.]

Sep 30

NOTE TO SELF: ne glej, poslušej spote. LOL :D

Sep 29

Hm? Kako prosim? Nekdo rabi rektalni pregled. Zdaj pa že resno pretiravajo. Ni čudno, da je slovenščina potem eden izmed najtežjih jezikov. Dam kar prav vsem priseljencem, ki se je nočejo naučiti.

Sep 29


her hand landed on my cheek.

I never saw her again.


my father knocked me out cold.

Next time, I fucked him up.


a robber shot my friend standing next to me.

He died in my arms.


he screamed as I ran away with his golden neklace.

The cops came down hard on me.


her husband surprised us in flagranti.

He knocked two of my front teeth out.


I yelled, as he wasn’t to give me my dosage.

It’s my thing. Only mine.

[Yeah, it's fucked up. Poslušam Miami Vice soundtrack. Obviously, me precej bedira. :( ]

Sep 28

Ah, kakšne skomine dobim, ko gledam ta videospot. Ne vem, takeli zrnati videi iz 80tih in posnetki stolpnic me navdajo z nekakšno otožnostjo. Pa še muzika je taka, solzava. Čeprav nisem nikoli videl ne Miami Vicea, ne 80., sem ziher, da sem ta komad nekje že slišal. Ampak nimam jebenega pojma kje. Ljol?

Sem šel potem malo gledat wikipedio. Coveral so ga celo CoB (ampak nisme slišal od njih, ziher ne)! Potem pa še informacije o nanizanki sami. Rečem lahko samo OMFG!  V njej se je zvrstilo, like, tričetrt današnjih holivudskih težkokategornikov in še shitload of others! Resda še ko so bili precej zeleni, ampak meni sede gledat Julio Roberts pri npr. 20ih. :P Plus fenomenalni muzikalci, avteji in ladice, težko orožje in nezgrešljiv Versačijev(!) fešn.

Bemuboga, zakuga se nism rodil 20 let prej? Zdej je težko bit kej druzga kot samo nostalgičen, jebemti.

Sep 27

“Say what you want then GET THE FUCK OUT AND LET ME TAKE A SHIT!”

Sep 26

She entered the victorian looking building on a busy street. She wondered why had the company chosen a residence in such a prominent district, but that thought passed quickly, as she found herself in a small room with nothing but a lone guard and an elevator in sight. The guard approached her and pulled a small binocular with which he scanned her left eye. Usually she would find that amusing, but since she was already breafed on the security of the place, she cordially let the guard do his job. “You’re okay, miss Wendel,” he said, when he was finished. “Please, come,” he then said, with his right arm streched out against the elevator. She took a step closer the elevator, when the door opened. Again, the elevator seemed like on e of those found in numerous apartment blocks throughout the country, like the one she lives in. Entering the elevator she turned around and saw the guard looking at her. “Godspeed,” he said, and then the doors closed. She felt the tingling sensation in her stomach as the elevator started to move. At this point, fear took over her, because the elevator wasn’t going up – it was going down.


It felt like an eternity to her until the elevator stopped with a short jerk. As soon the doors opened she plunged out and threw up into a trash bin standing nearby. She wiped her mouth with a small cotton handkerchief, then she stood up. She was standing in a wide brightly lit hallway with a square shaped podium in center, where two nurses were watching her. “Miss Wendel?” asked the one standing closest to her, as she threw the hanky on top her vomit. “Yes, that’s me,” she responded. “Are you okay?” was concerned the nurse. “I’m a bit claustrophobic, but I am fine, thank you,” she said to the nurse, although that was not true. “Well then, welcome to our clinic! Have you got the papers?” went on the nurse. “Yes, yes I have,” she confirmed and unzipped her purse. Miss Wendel pulled out a thick pamflet of heavily printed paper protected in a plastic transparent envelope. Then she opened the envelope and handed the paper to the nurse. The nurse then flipped through them and looked satisfied. “All seems in order,” the nurse said with a broad grin. “Please, take a seat. There is some reading material available. The doctor will be here shortly,” the nurse said briefly and pointed to the oppoiste wall. Miss Wendel turned and saw a row of cushioned seats hanging from it. One was occupied by a young man in early thirties, from the looks of it. His face was pale and because he was clenching his hands together she thought he was obviously anxious – at least as much as she was. She sat down next to him. “Hi, I’m Alice,” she broke the ice and offered him her hand. He paused for a moment and looked at her hand in surprise. Then he unclenched his hands and shook hers. “Simon,” he added. He was about to say something, but was interrupted. The interruptee was the doctor who was to be “here shortly”. A female doctor, actually. “I’m sorry for your waiting,” she said opologetically. Alice felt awestricken by the doctors beauty and so was Simon. “My name is Wendy Marshall,” the doctor introduced herself and shook Alice’s and Simon’s hand. “Shall we continue?” asked Wendy. They both nodded. “Ok, then, please, come with me,” said the doctor and turned around. They followed her. She led them through a broad gate onto a long corridor. The light was dim so they hardly saw her. She stopped in front of a door with a electronic lock and faced them. “Before we proceed, do you have any questions?” she quizzicaly asked them. They looked at each then both said “no.” “Ok, then we’ll proceed,” said the doctor with cordial voice. She tapped the electronic lock’s keyboard a few times. A loud “klank” was heard and the door opened into a large room with two hopital beds with a strange helmet hanging over each one. They felt uneased, but the doctor’s smiling “please” reassured them and they both stepped in, followed by the doctor behind them. “This is it. You will get directions over intercom and your status will be monitored through the cameras,” explained doctor Marshall and pointed to the camera in the corner. “There won’t be anyone here?” asked Simon, puzzled. “No, because the copying process mustn’t be interrupted in any way. Even the lights will be off, so that a misguided photon might not interrupt it,” said the doctor. “See you in two weeks,” said the doctor her goodbye and left the room, closing the door shut.


“Sally, call doctor Midarg, the test subjects are in,” he croaked into the microphone, when he saw them on the screen in front of him. There were a male and a female. “Will do,” he heard Sally’s response and then the speaker went dead. He heard the door behind him open and a tall elderly man with long white beard entered the room. “Is everything set?” the tall man asked harshly. “Yes, the diagnostics were succesfull and no sign of the bug so far,” he infromed the man. “Good. Well done, Tomas. We don’t wan’t to loose even more patients, do we?” said the elderly man, satisfied. The man sat next to Tomas and turned on his microphone. “Good morning Alice, good morning Simon. Shall we get going?” the man inquired the two over the intercom. “Yes,” answered Simon; Alice nodded. “Ok. Please, take your clothes off and dress into the jumpsuit, hanging on the wall. It is needed for monitoring your state and also for preventing any side effects of lying still too long,” the man instructed them. “What? I won’t do it in front of her!” Simon objected. “For your information, if the experiment is successful you will be her!” he rejected his objection. Grudgingly, Simon started to undress. “But what if it fails?” was concerned Alice. “If it does fail, your memory will be copied back to the original state, nothing to worry about,” bearded man calmed her down. “Oh, ok,” she agreed and started getting her clothes off too. The tall man smiled. A door opened and doctor Marshall walked in. “Good morning, doctor Midarg,” she said to the tall man. “Good morning, Wendy,” he replied, not taking his look off the monitor on which two nude people were seen dressing the jumpsuits. When they were properly dressed, doctor Midarg spoke into the microphone: “Good. Now, if you please, lay on the bed and put the helmet on as tight as you can. Then drink up the pill that is on the drawer nex to the beds. It is a strong sedative and you have about a minute before it kicks in. It is neccessary for you to be perfectly still or the process will fail,” he advised them. They put their helmets on and took the pill with a glass of water then they laid on beds. “Nicely done,” doctor Midarg complimented them, ” now, we will turn off the lights and we’ll see you in couple of weeks,” he informed them. Doctor Midarg turned off his microphone and pushed the button to turn off the lights in their. After a minute, they both fell into a deep sleep.


“Sally, call doctor Marshall, one of the subjects is waking up,” Tomas croaked into the microphone as he saw miss Wendel’s left index finger faintly twitching. By the time doctor had come, Alice was already awake. “Has it worked?” stormed in doctor Marshall, eyes fixed on monitor. She could see Alice was getting up yet still looking dazzled. “One moment,” he replied, zoomed the camera closer antd turned on the intercom. “Ali … em, Simon? Are you feeling allright?” asked Wendy on the intercom with excitement in her voice. They saw Alice, now Simon, nodding. Then a realization struck her. “Fuck, I’ve got tits!” they heard Alice’s voice yell out and saw her groping her own breasts on the monitor. “Wow, and a pussy, too,” continued Alice, now with her hand under her jumpsuit. They started laughing out as loud as they could. The comotion woke up Simon, too, but noone noticed until he screamed: “HOLY SHIT, I HAVE A COCK!” Tomas was now laughing so vigourosly that he fell of the chair. Doctor Marshall was the first who composed herself. “Ok, ok, stop it,” she ordered Tomas who was still laughing on the ground then spoke into the intercom:”I’ll turn on the lights, cover your eyes.” With a push of a button the lights in the room lit up, but only with a tenth of a power, so that the subject’s eyes were able to adapt. “We’ll do some tests first, to see if any problems have occured, then you’ll be able to go home. I’ll be there shortly,” the doctor said into the microphone. “You know that this is bizzare. A man in a woman’s body and vice versa. That’s fucked up,” said Tomas, as he was getting up from the floor. “All in the name of science,” she shrugged then took the clipboard and then left the room. “Science, my fat ass,” he cursed and turned towards the monitor.


“Are you ready to go?” doctor Midarg asked both of them, standing in front of the elevator. They nodded. “Remember, act as nothing has happened and try to remember that you aren’t you anymore! Oh, and do not fuck this up, okay?” he preached. They felt silent. “I’ll presume, by not saying anything you agree. Well, good luck then,” he then said. Midarg shook their hands then left. They turned to each other. “See you in a week?” he/she said to her/him. “Yeah, in a week,” she/he nodded and then stretched hers/his hand. He/she shook it faintly, then they both stepped into the elevator.


“He is where?” he asked demandingly. “At the St. Claire’s Hospital. They say, that she, I mean he, has terminal ovarian cancer,” Wendy answered, looking at now furious Midarg. “HOW THE FUCK DID WE MISS THAT?” yelled Midarg. “I haven’t got a clue, I’ve personally done every test I could think of at least twice, but every single one was negative,” she replied. “Where is she?” he demanded angrily. “Uh,” she started flipping pages, “at his home, I believe.” “Let’s pay her a visit, shall we?” he grimly asked a rhetorical question and put on his coat.


They parked on in front of the entrance to his appartment. “Check the window,” doctor Midarg told Wendy as they stepped out of the car. He knocked on the door, but noone answered. “He blocked it with something. I can’t see shit,” said Wendy almost leaning on the window. “Well, the door is not locked,” she heard over the shoulder. “Really?” she said surprised. “Mhm,” he nodded and then opened them. “Can you see anything?” she said as she stepped away from the window. “Yeah. A fucking big letter with my name on it!” he cried and stepped in to open the letter. “You’re kiddin’?” was Wendy surprised. Midarg wasn’t listening anymore. He ripped open the envelope and started reading: “I’m sorry he has to die. Better him than me. If you start searching for me, I go public.” “SON OF A BITCH!” Midarg yelled, squashed the paper in his hand and threw it into the wall. “Do we search for her, er, him anyway?” she cautiously asked Midarg. “No. We can’t risk being exposed. Not when we are this far,” he explained. “Come on, let’s go. We must do more tests,” he said and went out of the appartment with Wendy following. As they were opening the car’s door, she stopped and said: “Has it ever occured to you that the first successful experiment could also be a total disaster?” she quizzicaly asked him. He pondered it for a moment, then laughed: “No, it hasn’t.” They stood there for a moment looking at each other, then sat into the car and drove away.

[ F-U-C-K! NEVER again! Pa če mi plačate! NO FRIGGIN WAY! Že zdej sm scal prot vetru, pa je še zmeri en kurac palac. Ja, vem, slovnica je za en drek, vocabulary jebe 100/uro - v bistvu je vse za en kurc, LOL. Ah, well, lesson learned. Se morm očitno slovenščine držat. :P ]

Sep 25

Experiment. V angleščini. :wink:

Sep 21

Danes v dnevniku preberem, da se igralci čez lužo ne strinjajo s producenti(??) in bodo zato šli na ulice skandirat grda-grda gesla in migat s transparenti.

O YES BEJBI! Če to pomeni vsaj en šajt film manj, ki nas bo doletel, bo to fan-fuckin-tastic!


Po drugi strani pa, koji kurac noter mešajo Harry Potterja? AFAIK v njem igrajo sami angleži. Ok, čez ga imajo Warnerjevi bratci ampak producenti so pa večinoma angleži (no ja, IMDB pravi, da je vsaj en producent- David Heyman – anglež in je/bo produciral vseh sedem filmov).

So, what gives?


Po tretji strani pa, WHAT THE FUCK!? Tam imajo itak najbolj preseratorsko plačane igralce! Enim se je očitno v glavo vštepalo, da morajo dobit vsaj par deset^6 $ in se seveda otepajo deset^5 $ postavk, ker bi potem trpel njihov račun. Ekskjuzmi?

Po četrti strani, DUMP THOSE FUCKERS! Kdor malega vreden ni, si velikega ne zasluži! Bomo pa namesto Bradeline imeli čast gledati kakega novega talenta, ki, če bi ga izrinili veliki bwane, sploh ne bi imel nikakršne možnosti.

Aja, LOL@quote :”… ki so združeni v sindikatu “Screen Actors Guildo”, …”

Sep 20

<Milijonarja prekineji reklame>

Mati: “Dej, prestav na barnabija, če ni že konc!”

<Pogledam na uro>

Jaz:”Ma ne, šele pol ure je mim, sta komi dva mrtva.”


A wicked mind