Mes mecs et moi... et moi... et moi... et MOUAH???

J-7, c'est rien, c'est pour mon changement de dizaine d'année.

J-3: c'est vachement plus grave...

j'ai caïman rien préparé pour le vide-grenier d'automne (oui, j'en fais deux: un avant l'été, un en automne... oualà.)... va falloir que je vende cher... ;-))) ...

Et c'est aussi la date butoir pour participer à mon ridikioule piti concours.

Et sinon, ben, voilà, quoi...

Une note à la con, pour prendre de l'espace...

Ah, ouais: j'ai trouvé un thème pour ma fête d'anniv...

Chuis bien contente...

Tu veux un karaoké, pendant que je graille au resto (sans le Greffon :D mais avec mes nouvelles bottines et mon nouveau jean...)?

allez, un truc qui déménage (bah, si, quand même, un peu... non?):

Sat at the side of the pool at one of your houses
With wet white trousers on
And worlds collide as the evening continues
The dignity fucks off

Her brother's gone off to the strippers
To make up for all the lost time
She could have been one of the bitches
But she's actually alright

(Cigarette smoker)
I'm sorry, but we're all unsure
How much you've had but
(We think that you oughta) maybe not have any more

A country home, even if we really tried
What if it's just surprises now?
And I bet your dad would like to give us all a slap
When are your parents back? d'you know?

Well I never came from no ghetto
But it wasn't nowhere near here
Well-spoken girls in stiletoes
Aren't something to fear

(Cigarette smoker)
I'm sorry, but we're all unsure
How much you've had but
(We think that you oughta) maybe not have any more


(Cigarette smoker)
I'm sorry, but we're all unsure
How much you've had but
(We think that you oughta) maybe not have any more

(Cigarette smoker)
Cigarette smoke doesn't hide
As well as you think
And you'd think that it oughta
Act as the perfect disguise

Interesting question, Captain.

When I was a child, England didn't exist.

No, really. I wasn't aware of its presence on this planet until I saw an Antenne 2 coverage of the Punk "movement" in London. Evening news. Just before going to bed. I was 8.

The next morning (or maybe a couple of weeks later... I'm not getting any younger and neither are my neurons...) I started bossing my mother around to get a "punk hairdo", which, in my mind, was this:

Swell, isn't it? My mother had absolutely no idea of what I was talking about, but she took me to our hairdresser's. The old man, luckily, found a picture of a bloke with spiky hair in his newspaper. And I ended up looking like an 8 year old Sid. Except for the clothes. And I had no color in my hair: my mother had refused to dye it... never mind (the bollocks... so easy :D), I grabbed gold glitter from a game called Mako Bougies (remember this one?) and spread it on my head. When I woke up the next day, the glitter was still there and my skin had turned green. It stayed this way for about a week. I loved it! I was soooo proud!

Next thing I know, I'm 17. I've booked a room for 2 weeks in an all-girl hostel in Kensigton (punk and snob) after running trying to run away from home (and making a deal with my mother). I can't get out after 11pm and they're keeping my passport in a safe. But I can buy beer in the daytime: I look much older than I am, that's why. I feed myself on crisps and Cadbury's bars. I hang around all day. Visit museums. Buy records and clothes. Put on 10kg. Shave my head. On the sides. (Those who have seen my msn profile picture know what I'm talking about).

And I returned home.

Yes, England is my tasse de thé (since they have expresso machines, that is :D)... I've been there again since, with my ex-boyfriend, with my husband, with my best friend, mostly for week ends... I love shopping in London (don't even mention Glasgow... I know, Glasgow is in Scotland... I know... I know...)... I'm dying to visit Cornwalls, Wales and tour Scotland again (and again, and again, and again...)... But until this is happening, I could use a little of this:

aaahhh! Blairgowrie... Peter Pan... ;-)

VOTE FOR ME, DAMN IT!!!

Je ne m'attendais pas à ça tout de suite.

Un peu, certes, mais pas dès le début (Je suis un peu à l'ouest, mais je suis assez lucide, comme fille, malgré ce que tu pourrais croire).

La première étape du portefeuille de compétences consiste à définir les raisons pour lesquelles on a entrepris cette démarche et quels sont les objectifs que l'on poursuit en matière de reconnaissance personnelle, professionnelle et institutionnelle.

Ça va? Pas trop long? (j'en ai perdu combien, là?)

Tu as bien remarqué les mots "bilan" et "prise de conscience"... Tu es là, avec ton stylo, ton bloc-notes, ta feuille pré-imprimée pour te guider... Tu réfléchis... Tu te projettes (pas trop loin et pas trop fort, y'a des murs), tu regardes le Greffon qui joue à cache-cache derrière sa frange blonde et qui te fait des sourires de folaïe, tu te lances dans l'écriture... Reconnaissance personnelle... ouais... facile... En gros: je fais ça seulement pour le boulot, ou y'a autre chose que je veux changer? Et pourquoi je me pose cette question, bordel? Et pourquoi y'a deux putains de neurones qui ne veulent pas se concentrer sur "mouah et mon projet de vie professionnelle" et qui dévient et bloquent sur "vie personnelle"? Et pourquoi ils se réveillent maintenant, ces cons? Et pourquoi j'ai mal au crâne, d'abord? Et si je faisais un hors sujet, pour voir?

Et est-ce que je suis censée réfléchir à ça aussi?

Est-ce que je devrais réfléchir à ça?

Non, ce n'est pas la crise de la quarantaine qui me travaille pile le mois où je passe justement à 40. Ma crise, je l'ai déjà faite, merci :D ou alors, elle dure et je m'illusionne? J'avais cru au tracé plat, mais non, y'avait encore un morceau qui bougeait? Ça crève jamais, ce truc?

J'arrête les frais tout de suite?

Je continue?

Je serai où, dans un an?

avec les paroles pour faire karaoké ;-))

Didn't have the money round to buy a Morry Thou
Been around and seen a lot to shake me anyhow
Begged and borrowed sometimes I admit I even stole
The worse crime that I ever did was play some rock 'n roll.

But the money's no good
Just get a grip on yourself
But the money's no good
Just get a grip on yourself

Suffering convictions on a two-way stretch inside
The air in here is pretty thin, I think I'll go outside
Committed for insanity and crimes against the soul
The worst crime that I ever did was play some rock 'n roll.

But the money's no good
Just get a grip on yourself
But the money's no good
Just get a grip on yourself

And you should know

Now I find from week to week the sentence sticking fast
Turn the corner, rub my eyes and hope the world will last
Stranger from another planet welcome to our hole
Just strap on your guitar and we'll play some rock 'n roll

But the money's no good
Just get a grip on yourself
But the money's no good
Just get a grip on yourself

And you should know

(je me manque un peu, parfois...je me comprends...)