“Get out of me,” screams Mr Bed.

“But I don’t want to,” I reply.

“But you have to,” I hear the Mrs Toilet saying, “you’re about to pee your pants.”

“Make some coffee now!” the Miss Coffee Machine commands.

“Come shower, you stink,” says Lady Shower (or my mother; they have the same voice).

“Aren’t you hungry? Cook now!” the Sir Oven repeats on and on.

“New message! New message! Check me!” Mr Telephone shrieks.

“Change your clothes, for god sake!” Duchess Cupboard shakes her head.

* * *

And this is how I wake up every day.

 

Yes, I talk to inanimate objects. And they talk back.

Fine, they do all the talking, I just listen, nod, and never interrupt.

 

Burn.

Yours, Santa.

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Is Bieber really that bad?

Let’s state a fact: I don’t like Justin Bieber. I don’t hate him (I used to, when he was a kid), but I just don’t like him nor his kind of music.

But! Is his music actually bad just because I (and, obviously, a lot of other people) don’t? People who don’t like Justin, also don’t like Selena Gomez or Rebecca Black or I don’t know who else.But who likes these singers? Teenagers, definitely. But why won’t they just listen to the awesomeness of older singers, like the ones you liked when you were a kid?

When was a teen or maybe a little younger, Christina Aguilera, Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake were the hype. Most of us liked them, even if we’re too ashamed to admit it nowadays. But our older sister would bitch how we listened to trash and that Justin was better with N’Sync and how Spice Girls and Backstreet Boys were the real music. If you ask your papa, Michael Jackson was the real shit, your grandma though will disagree and put Elvis and the Beatles to a pedestal.

Yes, many artists that we hold today as “classic” were teen idols:

Elvis Presley

The Beatles

The Rolling Stones

Ricky Nelson

Tommy Steele

The Beach Boys

David Cassidy

Michael Jackson

And last but not least,

Frank Sinatra

All these were teen idols, some singers, some actors. And they were all probably hated by the older generation. It’s only normal.

While it’s okay not to like teen idols (and, it’s actually kinda creepy if you do), don’t dismiss them completely. Nobody hates the Beatles nowadays, but I’m sure many a parent blamed them for their daughter’s inexplicable behaviour and that distasteful sound that their guitars produce. “Rock ‘n roll, y’all say? Crap’s what I say…”

Teenage acts like Justin Bieber or One Direction may seem something we’ve all seen before (and we have), but newer generations can relate to them. They’re young, successful and not threatening as, say, Metallica can be. And sure, boybands are all done now, why this new hype? Well, guess what? Little girls prefer five cute little singers than one. In other parts of the world (South Korea, I’m looking at you) boy-and-girl-bands are still the norm, with major bands like Big Bang, Girls’ Generation, 2ne1, Super Junior, etc. Sure, they’re nothing you haven’t seen before, but teens haven’t and they need it.

If you remember yourself when you were a teen, you’ll recall that it’s pretty normal to dislike anything your parents or older sibling like. Your mum likes Celine Dion? You hate her! Your brother likes Nine Inch Nails? Ew, gross! You had to associate yourself with something entirely different that was modern, likeable by your friends but not from the rest of the world. You wanted to be and feel special, so you listened to whatever society shunned upon, be that teen pop idols, emo bands or death metal extravaganzas.

Contemporary music might not need a Justin Bieber, but our teenagers do.

Hashtag.

Kthnxbai.

 

On death and dying…

Have you ever wondered how people would react if you died this instant? Of course you have! Okay, let’s confess it, it’s a little macabre, but mostly egotistical. We, human beings, are attention whores.

In all seriousness though, I don’t want a grave; I want a mausoleum. A huge angel statue standing on top of it. People can see it from miles away. Aliens can see it from outer space. It will be the First Wonder of the new era, AAB (After Awesome Blogging).

Before I delve into death and dying and all that fun, let’s talk about how much of a narcissist I am. Which is zero. Sure, I count the years BAB and AAB, but is it truly bad? I’ll tell you, no! This blog is awesome, all my imaginary Awedience can tell you that. Even Samuel L. Jackson said so about my blogging skills in an imaginary -yet awesome- film he made. He also tweeted it. Nicholas Cage retweeted it. I rest my case.

So, this is 1 AAB and welcome to the new age. If you want you children born in this year to prosper, you must indeed name them after the new era’s fashion: Killing, Smokes, Awesome, Awerawera, Awerawera, Rawebert, Awendrey, Haweratio. The mascot and saint of this new era is Saint Nichawelas, or else known as Santa Clawes. (You can all call me Santa from now on).

Do you want to baptise you kid with these cool Awesome names? We offer services in several cities around the world, such as

New Yawerk City, New Yawerk

Lawes Angeles, Califawernia

Chicagawe,Illinaweis

Awestin,Texas

Cawelumbus, Awehiawe

Lawendon, United Kindawem

Moscawe,Russia

Raweme,Italy

Barcelawena, Spain

Lyawen, France

Colawegne, Germany

Tawekyawe, Japan

Haweng Kaweng, China

Sawel, South Kaweria

Manadawe, Indawenesia

Gaweld Cawest, Awestralia

Aweckland, New Zealand

 

Back to death and dying and all the fun that idea holds… Imagine you have died and all your loved ones are surrounding your decaying corpse. Well, that must satisfy you. Only if you’re someone from middle class or pretty broke, though. Or if you’re a slave. If you’re some rich newly died shit? Oh, it must hurt to see every other scum of your family that you hadn’t seen in years fighting over the bucks you’re leaving behind. Unless, of course, you’re Patrick Swayze; everyone loves Patrick Swayze.

But what happens when no one’s there? Broke or not, that breaks your little aethereal heart. Or what if they’re all there and having a party? Well, if you were a wild partygoer, then it’s all good, they’re doing it in your dear memory; but what if you were a simple workaholic employee at a bank that never lent anything but fake smiles at work, real frowns at home, and all that with a big fat sleek interest? You’d feel as a wallflower at your own dying party, wouldn’t you?

We all expect great things in our lives and try to put off the idea of dying. But embrace it, because you never know how Dow Jones might go, or when your husband will cheat on you, but you sure know you’ll die some day. So start making friends, making amends… Start loving again, even if your heart breaks. Live, because life could be either long or short. Have a little bit more fun, smile a little more, wear a pink tie at work, dance in the rain. Say “I’m sorry” when you have to, because we all want to see that cold grave surrounded by people for the right reasons. And don’t do stupid stuff because YOLO! Do the right stuff because YOLO (unless you’re Buddhist).

And, above all, don’t forget to change your name to Awesome. I also have a prospectus on changing your religion to Awesomism. It’s Awesome.

Kthnxbai.

Book review: Inferno by Dan Brown (Spoiler-free)

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My mother decided to buy the newest of Brown’s literary babies and because I can’t help myself, I took it and read it before she even arrived at the fourth chapter. Which means that Dan’s books are -let’s face it- nothing but slow.

Another fast-paced thriller, we’re following Indiana Jones/Hercule Poirot Robert Langdon in another adventure. This time we’re situated in Florence (or, as Italians call it, Firenze) and instead of moving forward, we have to move backwards and retrace our hero’s steps, since he’s lost his memory.

Pros

Pros are easy. For once, it’s a page-turner. He won’t really bore you with details, since there’s no time for them. It also serves as a tourist guide (as most of Brown’s books) which, if you haven’t visited the places described already, will probably have you at Googling around every single place mentioned. It is a simple book that is read easily and also provides some food for thought.

Cons

Have you ever had the feeling you’ve heard that song somewhere, you’ve seen that face sometime, you’ve been in this place somehow, you’ve had this conversation with these people, even though you haven’t?

No?

Have you ever had the feeling you’ve heard that song somewhere, you’ve seen that face sometime, you’ve been in this place somehow, you’ve had this conversation with these people, even though you haven’t?

What about now?

Well, the whole book is a déjà vu; maybe prof. Langdon was suffering from amnesia, but I’m not. It wasn’t as well plotted as Angels and Demons, didn’t culturally shock us as much as the Da Vinci Code, it didn’t delve into dark places like the Lost Symbol did.

Sure, his previous ones were no literary gems, but they were crafted in a way you felt like something bigger -much bigger than anything you know- was going on. You don’t have this here. It’s just a mediocre, predictable thriller that manages to deliver zero “Oh!”s.

It’s sad when you feel like you’re reading just a Wikipedia article, only with a lesser plot.

Overall

It’s a fun ride at many famous sites of Italy and it’s an enjoyable book overall, just don’t expect any jaw-dropping moments here. Also, after three books/incidents of life-threatening situations, you’d expect your professor to take a karate lesson or something. Just saying. And, finally, you’d expect a book about Dante’s Inferno to have more to do about Dante’s Inferno instead of obscure brandnamedropping. This book will definitely not line up with other literary stars.

 

The most awesome second blog ever

So, I read at how-to’s that I must post at a regular basis, say: every Friday. But since my imaginary Awedience hungrily awaits for my posts at any given moment, I gave in and decided to fulfil their imaginary dreams. I’m a good master. Pat me now.

 

Let’s talk about neighbours. Do you like yours? I hate mine. Although I pretend to like them and smile whenever I see them. They have two kids. Do you like kids? Yes? Something’s wrong with you. Wait, I said kids, not babies. Still yes? Well, then, you should have my neighbours’; they yell and play when and where they’re not supposed to and they’re always loud and– wait, I sound like a grandpa. I generally have a slight distaste for children from I-can-talk-now to my-parents-don’t-get-me years old. I confess; I lied about the word “slight“. Babies? I don’t generally like them, but the ones that don’t generally cry are usually very, very cute. But what I hate the most about children is their parents. Especially my neighbours. Their mother screams more than them to stop them from screaming. Their father is apathetic to everything that happens around him. He probably pretends they don’t exist and lives a happy little life in his head.

 

While writing this blog, I realised my neighbours aren’t that interesting after all. But they have a special place in my heart, because thanks to them I have used several words of the vocabulary I didn’t know I was able to pronounce and very textually mean every single figurative expression.

 

And now they stop yelling and I have nothing else to blog about. Tragedy of my life.

I feel like I’m in a Sophocles’ play and this is my last monologue before I dramatically drop dead to the ground but, of course, I can’t yet before I curse whomever put me in this situation (neighbours) and then the joke will be on them when they live a long happy life but their grandchildren shall suffer for whatever unfortunate misfortune befell upon the accursor (I’m pretty sure I just made up a word here) and the descendants must be subject to my curse because of the malevolent deeds of their accursed ancestors.

 

I also promised to my fake Awedience that I shall speak about hashtags. Thoroughly. Well, I shall, but not yet. It’s too soon. Unless I die till then, #hashtag shall be my last blog ever.

The most awesome first blog ever

I will try to play it cool and act as if I didn’t read how-to’s for blogging. Yeah, well, in fact, I did, and what most of them said was “write for yourself at first and maybe the Awedience (yes, I call readers an “Awedience”, I’m crazy like that) will come later”. I wrote and re-wrote this five times up until now (fine, I’m too bored to re-write, just roll with this) and I see that writing just for myself is not only egoistical, but also a little bit sad; I already talk to myself (or to inanimate objects around me), so writing to myself (on the Internet) seems a little bit weird. So, I shall make it more weird and sad and pretend I already have readers an Awedience.

So, for those of you who know me personally, I have many inside jokes coming on. For those of you who don’t, let’s make some new inside jokes! Sure, why not (See? This already feels like talking to myself, the only difference is that I’m also typing it; if you could also cheer and laugh and shed a tear or two, it would be much appreciated)!

Let’s define what this blog is going to be about. It’s all about something I haven’t defined yet. But I will. Because defining definitions definitely define dolphins (Oh, that was bad. And sad. Just cheer and laugh and pretend it was good. I go in a very dark place once I fail to deliver a good joke; but, hey! we have our first in-joke! Defining dolphins… It will sound funnier after a couple of years, I promise).

Many people blog about their interests. While I find that interesting, I don’t really feel I can do just that, since my likes and dislikes are all around the place. So I’ll just rap out my latest feelings on a topic that sparks an interest on me and publish it to the worldwide web. Yes, I’ll be typing about my interests after all.

So, I thank thee sincerely for being here for this historical moment that thou shalt remember for the rest of thy amazing life.

P.S: I didn’t talk about hashtags, so I shall add them in the tag.