tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-325081612024-03-09T09:51:11.284+00:00WRITER'S CRAMPS<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/wIhWuoePE_odPR3lIuhnag?authkey=Gv1sRgCJDutaDH4NWDaQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/SqiaZQTDNiI/AAAAAAAAR2Q/s_anGti-PYQ/s800/File%20205%20047-2.jpg"></a>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.comBlogger229125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-27302346566299477002007-06-12T07:20:00.002+01:002011-06-11T10:37:30.428+01:00<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:180%;">THIS BLOG IS CLOSED
</span>
But here is the continuation</span></span>
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<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img src="http://img339.imageshack.us/img339/859/00009069va2.gif" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" ><a href="http://gattinawritercramps.blogspot.com/">WRITER CRAMPS </a>
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</p><p>
</p><p></p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-69225776438857076112007-05-13T23:50:00.004+01:002011-06-11T10:41:01.557+01:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkeXDsJoYNI/AAAAAAAACyw/U2Wj4Zldhmk/s1600-h/File+5+008-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkeXDsJoYNI/AAAAAAAACyw/U2Wj4Zldhmk/s320/File+5+008-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064182395648368850" border="0" /></a>Pookie is very angry about Blogger and prefers not to show her very upset face ! She is not amused !
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">But here is </span></span>
</div></div>
<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img src="http://img339.imageshack.us/img339/859/00009069va2.gif" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" ><a href="http://gattinawritercramps.blogspot.com/">WRITER CRAMPS </a> with sidebar !</span>
<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img src="http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/6001/00005581vm7.gif" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /></a>last clean up
<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img src="http://img339.imageshack.us/img339/540/00005578rh4.gif" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /></a> and pay the cleaners a drink and it's
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">THE END
</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">but not the end of writer cramps <a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img src="http://img91.imageshack.us/img91/2430/00000323mp5.gif" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">
</span></span><span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"><span class=" down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"><img src="img/blank.gif" alt="Link" class="gl_link" border="0" /></span></span>
</div></div>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-65341835596018524852007-05-13T07:33:00.000+01:002007-05-13T06:55:44.472+01:00@#!$# I QUIT !<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkacOsJoYFI/AAAAAAAACxU/B7Cz3zxrzAo/s1600-h/File+53+018-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkacOsJoYFI/AAAAAAAACxU/B7Cz3zxrzAo/s320/File+53+018-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063906607208357970" border="0" /></a>
<div style="text-align: center;">This is Pookie my support, helping actively to solve my problems !
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You have probably noticed that I am without sidebar. Not me, but my blog. It's not even hanging down, it just has disappeared. The worst is, that it has disappeared in my blog insides too, there is nothing in "add elements" besides "about me" and there is nothing to add, or "archives".
</p><p>
I wrote to Bloogle Glogger help group. Nothing happened. All these savant men apparently were also stumped. Finally I wrote a mail to <a href="http://20stickyposts.blogspot.com/">Rat</a> who is quite a specialist and for once he couldn't help me either and suggested to write to Blogger itself. That's what I did and very polite, although it itched in my fingers to write "repair my @<%¨§@ page elements and before yesterday &@#% !! </p><p>
What happened ? Nothing ! Not even a standard Robot answer which you probably know so well too :
</p><p>
<span style="font-weight: bold;">"Thanks for contacting Blogger Support. Since we cannot always respond personally to every message we get, we encourage you to check Blogger Help, where you can find answers to many common questions. Here are some of the top articles which could help you out:"</span>
</p><p>
Addresses of the top articles in question? None of them spoke about missing "page elements". As usual I must be an exception and the first "strange" case in ex Blogger Beta.
</p><p>
Now I have sent already 5 mails with the same message always pointing out that
I tried everything : cleared cash, rebooted, switched from IE to Firefox, republished, locked in again (doesn't work with IE anymore on none of my blogs)I even tried to change the template without any result, the HTML Java script button is still missing.
</p><p>
Deadly silence so far. I already had once a similar problem with my sidebar but only hanging down. As a complete newbee I had also asked Blogger for help and wrote this post :
</p><p>
"<span style="font-style: italic;">I have sent a mail to Blogger Help . Now answer. Without any patience as usual 2 h later I sent again a message to Blogger' highness submitting again my problem. 5 min later I GOT A MESSAGE ! I red it : see above.</span>
</p><p>
<span style="font-style: italic;">Same text. I got angry and told Pookie my personal cat who slept on my bed, war is declared now ! Pookie opened an eye and agreed. That's nice she always agrees with me. I think it's much better complaining to a cat then talking to walls, that looks kind of stupid. So I autoreplied too with the same text and suggested on my mail to wake up because it's already late afternoon. Nothing happened.</span>
</p><p>
<span style="font-style: italic;">I wrote to Blogger god again, adding that I would NOW really like an answer ! and .... I got it! 5 min later ! and from his highness himself, amazing ! I opened the mail and ..... see above.</span>
</p><p>
<span style="font-style: italic;">I informed Pookie that they use a computer robot always with the same text. I mean at least they could change a little bit i.e. instead of "encourage you" "suggest you" that would already make a difference, no ? Pookie agreed, this time without opening an eye, just a movement of her tailtop. I decided to be amused. I sent a reply again, this time in red with bold and font 20 and suggested to switch off the Robot and answer personally. No answer. I filled in again the email form of Blogger support and suggested them a staff increase. And oh yes ! I got an answer : see above.</span>
</p><p>
<span style="font-style: italic;">I asked Pookie what to do now. Pookie agreed. So every hour I filled in Bloggers support mail form and thought about the face the Blogger guy would make when finally he had to check the mails, because one day they will have to clean it I suppose. This will be my revenge ! and then maybe I will get an answer ! Never give up hope ! Meanwhile I continue. It became a habit. Each time I am at my computer I send a message. I prepared several texts ! Naaa. I said to Pookie still on my bed, I will do this until I get an answer ! She probably said, yes, do so, but I couldn't see it well.</span>
</p><p>
<span style="font-style: italic;">This morning when I looked again for help in Google Blogger help group, amongst hundreds of complaints and requests, I noticed one. It was a priest who blogged and even HE had a problem. That was a sign from heaven, I informed Pookie, still on my bed. I opened his blog and read :</span>
</p><p>
<span style="font-style: italic;">"You shall obtain all you ask of me by the recitation of the Rosary.12. All those who propagate the Holy Rosary shall be aided by me in their necessities."</span>
</p><p>
<span style="font-style: italic;">This was a sign!! It <span style="font-weight: bold;">WAS</span> help !!! But as a protestant I don't have any rosary. Where could I get one from ? but then ? I don't know how to use it. I asked Pookie, she didn't know either. My catholic husband send me to hell. So maybe during the day I will ask my neighbor for one, she surely has one she is catholic as all belgians. As a protestant I am rather considered as a "Jehova witness". Only I don't go from door to door in flat shoes, long skirts and ombrella looking grey. It happens to me to go from door to door looking for my cat Arthur, yes, that I do. But I surely don't look grey.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-style: italic;">In my despair for any help I just looked at "next blog", and there it was .....!! another sign ! It was a black blog and the text all in little squares. I tried to read it, but it was chinese. So maybe I should write to Blogger in little squares ? Then the robot wouldn't catch the message and a human has to reply ! That is an idea. I asked Pookie, she agreed ! "
<p>
</p></span>Today is my 250 post ! and therefore I close. I can live without love but not without sidebar. I made a new blog. Just the same, I only dropped the "s" in Writer and of course had to change the link into : http://gattinawritercramps.blogspot. com/ Isn't that clever ? Now at least I have a sidebar and can sleep peacefully again. And Blogger and his Bloogle Glogger help group can all go to hell and be cooked by the devil himself ! @ۤ#% !!
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</p><p>
</p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-66253879165140309372007-05-12T08:41:00.000+01:002014-09-06T10:37:03.439+01:00....AND ANOTHER SICILIAN STORY
"Five" pictures are <a href="http://gattina-keyholepictures.blogspot.com/">here</a>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkViK8JoYEI/AAAAAAAACxM/ku-7hOBOMrY/s1600-h/File+38+014-2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkViK8JoYEI/AAAAAAAACxM/ku-7hOBOMrY/s320/File+38+014-2.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063561296132726850" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a>The Godmother
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My unvolontary imprisonment got more and more on my nerves. The fact not being able to go out alone in Messina I just couldn't get used too and complained. Finally we moved over outside Messina to a just wonderful place. It belonged to a "Professore"(everybody who could read and write at this time in Sicily was immediately promoted to Professore or Dottore) This man was old, at least 50 ! but for a young girl of 23 it really was. I was told that he was a famous poet and writer. He had a face like an eagle, burning eyes and thick grey hair. It's strange that after so many years I still can remember this face.
A lot of strange things happened in and around the house, but I didn't notice it at all, everything seemed normal to me. It's only long time later, when I knew a little more about the famous Mafia that I wondered if I hadn't been just in their middle without knowing it.
<br />
The house was flat and quite big with a huge patio. The view was just beautiful over Messina to the sea. It was surrounded by Olive trees which grew on large terraces up the hill. The whole property was very big and surrounded by a wall. I didn't like walls, and it was the only thing I wondered about. That every car which wanted to go through a big gate was controlled by a big guy, or that in the middle of the night men arrived making such a noise that I woke up, I didn't find strange. Anyway I was in love and love makes blind.
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A completely black dressed old women scurried through the house and did everything. She was the only female person around. When I tried to ask her something other then what I needed, she looked at me with a shy glance and disappeared without any answer. I asked FL (first love) about this and other things I had noticed and found unusual, but for an answer I only got a laugh, a kiss and "don't bother". I didn't think more about it and enjoyed good food, sunshine and the sea. There was a private beach too.
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One late evening men arrived and I heard agitated voices. FL got up and disappeared. Of course I got curious and wanted to know what happened. As an answer I was pushed back in the room and locked in ! That made me crazy, never ever in my whole life somebody had dared to lock me in ! I screamed, shouted and drummed with my hands against the door, without success. Nobody bothered about me, not even FL ! In my rage I took the first thing coming across my way, which was a heavy cupper thing, I don't remember what and smashed it against the window which was open but had thick stores. The stores went open and I could see moon and a lot of stars on the dark blue sky. These dark moonlight skies I remember for ever, they were so beautiful. Inspite of this noise, nobody came. I still boilt with rage and climbed out of the window, ran over in the dark night to sit down under olive trees. There I cried waterfalls of rage. Calming down a little, I started breeding my revenge. He had dared to lock me in !! and in my innocent mind, I decided to walk along the beach to the city and have a drink somewhere. I really was crazy.
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After a while still only seeing closed and dark houses I wondered what to do now. Again without thinking I knocked on a door. The word danger or dangerous wasn't part of my vocabulary and fear neither. Finally a man opened the door and when he saw me he starred at me as if I were a ghost and called his wife. She took me in and was so kind an friendly and gave me wine (which I badly needed) and then their 3 children also came and looked at me, the stranger from another world.
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What followed afterwards I can only guess. After maybe half an hour FL showed up with 3 other men, who looked quite unfriendly and of course he was angry with me. But not as much as I was with him ! so we screamed and shouted at each other, while the others were standing around. Finally I agreed to go back with them anyway I had no other choice and I think I remember seeing him giving some money to this family. Years later I understood that anyway this family or even single men wouldn't have dared to harm me. Professore the peaceful poet and writer was maybe not what he pretended to be.<br />
Other Sicilian stories <a href="http://gattina-writercramps.blogspot.com/2007/05/zia-petrina-another-sicilian-story.html">here</a>
Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-20156971741464240552007-05-11T08:57:00.000+01:002007-05-11T15:27:23.924+01:00A MEME OR AN INTERVIEW ?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkR4gsJoX4I/AAAAAAAACvs/DK5t-fyMb0s/s1600-h/Cats+August+2006+002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkR4gsJoX4I/AAAAAAAACvs/DK5t-fyMb0s/s400/Cats+August+2006+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063304384073981826" border="0" /></a>
<div style="text-align: center;">Memes ???? what's that ??? </div><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> Friday Feast must be delayed ! </p>
<a href="http://www.blog-blond.blogspot.com/">Kuanyin</a> "tagged" me !! She dared ! Usually I don't like "tagging" I can see some on the wall of our train station, but I thought to just consider it as an interview and make an exception. <p> 1. What do you hope to accomplish with your blog</p><p><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">A miracle ! A get together of the whole world ! (my second name is Modesty)</span> </p><p>2. Are you a spiritual person?</p><p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Oh yes ! ! Deep sigh, closing eyes, 5 sec, opening eyes wide, illuminated look to the crumbly sealing...... smiling misteriously. (try to do the same)</p><p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">my dearest wish is to become a blog myth ! With a 1 m long sidebar of AWARDS !</span> </p><p>3. If you were stranded on a deserted island, what three things would you want to have with you?</p><p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">my laptop, Internet and a dictionary and (Pookie of course) to kill the time until somebody finally shows up and comes to rescue me</p> <p> 4. What's your favorite childhood memory?</p> <p> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">When I could get on the nerves of all people around me and drive them crazy !</span></p> <p> 5. Is this your first meme?</p> <p> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Oh yes ! I am a very shy person and don't want to divulge my interior thinkings.</span></p> <p> Ah ! (waking up) is that all ?? Then I leave, I have memes to do ! 100 questions ! No time to blog anymore !</p><p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>
</p><p><a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img style="width: 374px; height: 25px;" src="http://img258.imageshack.us/img258/2074/00004964fp3.gif" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /></a></p>
<span style="font-weight: bold;">FRIDAY FEAST</span>
Catering service is repaired at now 4.30 pm ! Hope you are still hungry ! Here is the Menu
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</p><p>
</p><p><strong>Appetizer</strong>
Tell about a time when you had to be brave.</p><p><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">All the time ! since I am married for 38 years and it still continues !</span>
</p> <p><strong>Soup</strong>
Which upcoming movie are you excited about seeing?</p> <p><strong>Salad</strong>
Name an item you try to always have on hand.</p><p><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">My cigarettes ! and please be free to tell my that smoking is not healthy I know (my father already gave it up on me because I knew <span style="font-weight: bold;">everything </span>better) But don't write waterfalls in my comments !</span>
</p> <p><strong>Main Course</strong>
Imagine the most relaxing room you can think of. Now describe it!</p><p><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">One with a nice big jazzy in pink (!) with flowers around me and a Magnum bottle of champagne !</span>
</p> <p><strong>Dessert</strong>
On a scale of 1 to 10 (10 being highest), how spiritual or religious are you? </p><p><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Ouf ! 1 % perhaps ? see above my interview</span>
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</p>
<script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=Gattina&postid=11May2007&meme=ff"></script>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-14388752480875519762007-05-10T07:19:00.000+01:002007-05-10T06:15:38.097+01:00AN ENGLISHMAN IN NEW YORK - TT<p>
<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" src="http://img157.imageshack.us/img157/9994/acat13cp1.gif" border="0" /></a>
<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img src="http://img256.imageshack.us/img256/3608/thirsday13pr0.gif" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /></a>
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Thirteen different meanings !
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</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkKm6sJoXsI/AAAAAAAACuM/bgbrXFHELZY/s1600-h/File+67+013-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkKm6sJoXsI/AAAAAAAACuM/bgbrXFHELZY/s320/File+67+013-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062792458332036802" border="0" /></a>Pookie is exhausted, she studied the difference between American and Oxford English meowing
</div><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>
<p>
When an English-English speaking person comes to the States how should he know that :
</p><p>
1. he doesn't go to a toilet but has to rest in a restroom ? Even when it's urgent !
</p><p>
2. he doesn't eat a biscuit but a cookie and doesn't even get an indigestion because he thought it was something for the computer
</p><p>
3. he is not a chap anymore but a guy and is afraid of wrong prononciation "gay".
</p><p>
4. he has not a booth in his car but a trunk and thinks he now has a corpse in his booth.
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5. he doesn't drive in a lorry but in truck
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6. he doesn't have a bonnet at his car but a hood. Wasn't that a bonnet to wear ?
</p><p>
7. he doesn't sit in a garden but in a yard and askes himself if it is bigger then a meter ?
</p><p>8. he hasn't a pushchair to push but a stroller and what does a stroller then walking around and looking at girls ?
</p><p>
9. He is not in a lift but in an elevator. Fortunately both went up and down and didn't get stuck
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10. He has no wardrobe anymore but a closet and wonders why he should put his clothes in a toilet or restroom
</p><p>
11. he doesn't get post anymore but mail and wonders why the postman rings twice and not the mailman ?
</p><p>
12. he isn't wearing trousers but pants and askes himself what he should put under his pants ?
</p><p>
13. He doesn't watch a film but a movie and his chair is not moving
</p><p>
Poor poor Englishman in New York !
</p>
<p>
</p><p>
<script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=Gattina&postid=10May2007&meme=tt"></script></p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-77324875665853541612007-05-09T19:08:00.000+01:002007-05-09T05:49:14.308+01:00WORDLESS WEDNESDAY<a href="http://img509.imageshack.us/my.php?image=wordlesswednesday1zd7.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://img509.imageshack.us/img509/8418/wordlesswednesday1zd7.th.jpg" alt="Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us" border="0" /></a>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkCeLsJoXmI/AAAAAAAACtc/fGSGBfnwXWs/s1600-h/Divers+2006+004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkCeLsJoXmI/AAAAAAAACtc/fGSGBfnwXWs/s320/Divers+2006+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062219904831741538" border="0" /></a>Pookie is happy that she didn't adopt puppies !
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<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img src="http://img265.imageshack.us/img265/2085/image11jp0.jpg" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /></a>
<script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=Gattina&postid=09May2007a&meme=ww"></script>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-81133083059515734522007-05-08T07:31:00.000+01:002014-01-07T10:37:04.998+00:00A HAM PARTY<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkAFo8JoXgI/AAAAAAAACss/sCiTK8Ldzrc/s1600-h/August+2006+010.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkAFo8JoXgI/AAAAAAAACss/sCiTK8Ldzrc/s320/August+2006+010.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062052182063865346" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a> <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Pookie also had to laugh ! </div>
My son's best buddy was a little American boy who also was in his Kindergarten, they both were 3 or 4. The boy's grandpa was an american officer who worked at the NATO here in Brussels. <br />
Little Patrick was the souvenir of Spanish holidays his mother had brought back, hidden in her belly. So his grandpa was his Dad. Patrick really looked like a mini Torreador, black curly hairs, burning black eyes and a temper like a volcano. I think it must have been hard for her to have this living souvenir running around in the house. I didn't have a lot of contact to her, she was a rather mousy person, completely overwhelmed by her very temperamental mother and the little son. Anne, my friend (the grandma) had married her American officer just after the liberation of France. She was french and came from Normandy. <br />
Anne's house was open to everybody and very often looked like a dovecote. It was very big, and the main room where everybody popped in was the kitchen. It was huge ! At the big table at least 14 people could sit easily. Despite the bigness, the kitchen was a very cosy place. <br />
One day we were invited to a little feast, because the eldest son who was also in the army but in Frankfurt (Germany) had brought a big ham from there. It was almost the whole pig leg ! As Mr. Gattino was working I went there with my little son. <br />
I had a nice (very) short dress with the skirt full of flounces and high over the knees boots. That was very fashionable at the time. Grandpa stand in the kitchen and cut big slices of ham and everybody took its plate put a slice on and then sat in the very big living room with a nice open fire lit. <br />
At one moment I had to go for little girls (which means the toilet). When I came back, keeping myself very straight and very proud of my new dress, people started to laugh behind me, so I turned around to see why they were laughing so hard. But when I had turned other people started to laugh too and again behind me. I really wondered what I had missed. And while I turned and turned to get at least one of these apparently so funny conversations, Anne still laughing came over to me and told me that my (short) skirt was jammed in my pants. The view they all had must have been quite special with my high boots ! I quickly pulled it out and had to laugh too what should I do else anyway. <br />
Mr. Gattino who meanwhile had arrived looked just bored and informed the guests that things like that could only happen to his dear wife. Little son wondered why people laughed so much, he was used to worse. <br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkAHW8JoXhI/AAAAAAAACs0/fb5TvQC5qig/s1600-h/ATT307507.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RkAHW8JoXhI/AAAAAAAACs0/fb5TvQC5qig/s320/ATT307507.gif" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062054071849475602" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a> In the past it looked a little better !Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-38814258292680047862007-05-07T07:08:00.000+01:002007-05-07T04:57:36.026+01:00MANIC MONDAY - I WILL SURVIVE<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvgPVR3WJeYqL6Nz46U-hDdyVfJsQ3zpA42_Tp6bYY2TlXZ0CK5jPVR5W_sTYlxyDa19m1KTUnSWkSHhy7YsHcl3u7-HwzWjmlrkqkrmwZOoKd2crycQQoiPfqmLFaOJNHKoxz/s1600-h/File+65+003-1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvgPVR3WJeYqL6Nz46U-hDdyVfJsQ3zpA42_Tp6bYY2TlXZ0CK5jPVR5W_sTYlxyDa19m1KTUnSWkSHhy7YsHcl3u7-HwzWjmlrkqkrmwZOoKd2crycQQoiPfqmLFaOJNHKoxz/s320/File+65+003-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061650903269399938" border="0" /></a><p></p>
<p>
Pookie also dances on the table
</p><p>
</p><p>
</p><p>
</p><div style="text-align: left;">
</div></div>
When I read the word for Manic Monday I immediatly thought of a young man whose brain had been nearly distroyed by drug abuse.
<p>
One of my friends daughter was hospitalized for anorexia. The day where my friend was allowed to visit her, she asked me to come with her, because she hadn't the courage to go there alone and facing her skeleton like daughter. She was full of reproaches for herself and felt so guilty that she didn't know what to say to her daughter and she thought with me being there it would be less stressful.
</p><p>
When we arrived it was visitor day and the sick girls and boys were all in a big room to wait for their families or friends. There were all main deseases represented. Depressions, Anorexia, boulimia and very heavy drug addicts and all of them hoped to survive or not.
</p><p>
The first thing I noticed in this room was a young man of around 20 who had climbed on a table, singing the song "I will survive" with all his heart and danced. On the table was also a big birthday cake with candles and at least 8 people sat around.
Of course I became curious about what happened there and asked. A woman told me the very sad story of this young man. His problem was to be too intelligent and he had an IQ far above the average. Nobody had noticed that and as school became so boring for him because he learned too fast, he had started with a few coke lines, which had been offered to him probably during parties. From there it got worse more and more until he reached the state of heroin and crack and everything what could get him out of his boring world. Until the day he almost died from an overdose. Hospitalized here, he suddenly realized that he wanted to survive and start a cure.
</p><p>
In some way he was very lucky that his parents never gave up on him and tried to get him out of this hell by all means. Later on another visit I had the occasion to discuss with him and I was really amazed about the general knowledge of everything he had in litterature, painting, science etc. But he wasn't healed yet. In the middle of a conversation he just would walk away, start singing or doing something else. He was such a friendly and loveable guy.
</p><p>
And when I think about him dancing and singing on this table, with his whole family around, I sincerely hope that he had survived.</p><p>Each time I hear this song I see him dancing with such joy and hope for a new life.
</p>
<p>
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKSE0ou67TI">I will survive song</a></p>and the same song but only for people with humor don't blame me afterwards ! I warned you !
<p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fN1dPtEph2U&mode=related&search=">Jesus will survive</a>
</p><p>
</p><p>
</p><p>
<script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=Gattina&postid=07May2007&meme=manic"></script>
</p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-66814171986044505042007-05-06T07:11:00.000+01:002007-05-12T08:14:45.671+01:00ZIA PETRINA - ANOTHER SICILIAN STORY<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">Sorry my sidebar has disappeared not only on my blog but also in Bloogle-Gloggers "page elements" ! Has anybody had a similar problem. I can't add anything in my sidebar, it's just not there anymore.</span>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Rj1KtcJoXSI/AAAAAAAACq8/nIplJdzuZr0/s1600-h/Pookie+017.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Rj1KtcJoXSI/AAAAAAAACq8/nIplJdzuZr0/s320/Pookie+017.jpg" Oalt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061283700745461026" border="0" /></a>
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Pookie goes on holidays
</div>
<p>
</p><p>
</p><p>
During my stay in FL's (first love) parental home I fortunately wasn't home very much. Of course he wanted to show me as much as possible of Sicily. But the days where he had something to do in the morning I was locked in. Literally. As soon as I put my nose outside the house there where curious eyes. At that time I didn't realize why. I just couldn't imagine that people had never seen such a species like me. I had nothing special at least up in the north, I only was blond and tall. But in 1964's Sicily I must have looked like an alien.
</p><p>
After 2 times staying a whole morning in the house, I had enough and revolted. I wanted to go out and right away ! I have to admit that I was quite a spoiled brat and when I didn't get what I wanted I could become very furious. Finally Zia (aunt) Petrina had enough of my show told me to shut up (she spoke Italian as the other members of the family) knotted her black scarf under her chin, armed herself with a black umbrella opened the door and pushed me out in the morning sun. I wondered why she took an umbrella in this dazzling sunshine and no rain clouds around but finally it wasn't my business, at least I now was out of the house.
</p><p>
After a few steps, some children followed us laughing, pointing at me and jumping around. That was normal I thought. But then suddenly teenaged boys and young men followed us too making ¨probably very salacious remarks, because Zia Petrina suddenly transformed into a fury. This little woman, looking like a grey (or rather black) mouse with her grey hair and the knot on top of her head, always covered by her black scarf when she went out, took her ombrella and started beating furiously on every human she could reach. And she beat very strong. She didn't care where or whom she hit she just blindly beat around with her ombrella.
</p><p>
As always in dangerous or strange moments, I have a sort of black out and only see the comic side of the situation and of course this one made me laugh. I didn't realize anything. Now the young men went back and all this scenery was accompagnied with loud screaming and gesticulating and house doors and windows opened to watch this riot. And I stand there in the middle, probably dressed half naked in their eyes and laughed. I couldn't help it.
</p><p>
Today when I think about this situation, I really had the innocence of youth (I was only 23 and not a bit mature) and didn't realize at all what could have happened. Anyway suddenly 2 police cars showed up and I don't remember how many policemen jumped out and shouted at the men and started to beat them with their batons. Now I too was afraid. But Zia Petrina, with a satisfied look at me, took my arm and lead me home, pushed me inside the house and said " See ! You can't go out here !"
</p><p>
Yes, apparently, even I with my pighead had to agree.</p>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Rj1H3MJoXRI/AAAAAAAACq0/yFVV6sAHu5Y/s1600-h/427938227_76e6981d31-1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Rj1H3MJoXRI/AAAAAAAACq0/yFVV6sAHu5Y/s320/427938227_76e6981d31-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061280569714302226" border="0" /></a>
This isn't Zia Petrina because I don't have any picture of her. Old woman for a young girl were not very interesting of course. But she must have looked like this one. A face carved by a hard life.
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Rj1Hy8JoXQI/AAAAAAAACqs/PEDKt4YYPAI/s1600-h/452201779_e67bf1c6b8-1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Rj1Hy8JoXQI/AAAAAAAACqs/PEDKt4YYPAI/s320/452201779_e67bf1c6b8-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061280496699858178" border="0" /></a>
In 1964 women were dressed like this. Today probably not anymore at least not in cities. But at that time widows were always dressed in black from top to bottom and others too from a certain age on of course. I wondered why they all were dressed in black especially in this heat. They told me that when one family member dies the woman wears black even if it's only a distant cousin, uncle or aunt. As there are always a family member who dies, they never get out of wearing black.
<p>
<p>
if you want to read another story it's <a href="http://gattina-writercramps.blogspot.com/2007/05/sicilian-story.html">here</a>
<p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-34449765592796532462007-05-04T16:37:00.000+01:002007-05-05T06:53:46.130+01:00A SICILIAN STORY<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjwF7cJoXOI/AAAAAAAACqc/8CzFrDS-HN0/s1600-h/File+46+038-1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjwF7cJoXOI/AAAAAAAACqc/8CzFrDS-HN0/s320/File+46+038-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060926599984602338" border="0" /></a>
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Pookie as a "still life" ?
</div>
Messina
<p>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjwahcJoXPI/AAAAAAAACqk/JZK07ypa9lE/s1600-h/203-1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjwahcJoXPI/AAAAAAAACqk/JZK07ypa9lE/s320/203-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060949243052186866" border="0" /></a>
<p>
In 1964 I was engaged to a Sicilian from Messina, my first love. After some plane adventures and others I found myself in his parent's home. It was a big yellow house with green stores which were always closed to keep the heat out. Only late evening and early morning they were opened to get fresh cool air in and then closed again. This way it was nice and cool in the house the only thing which bothered me and to which I was not used at all was to live with light the whole day while outside the sun was shining as if payed for.
<p>
A lot of visitors came during the whole day and popped in any time. There was always a very big bottle of red wine on the table for them. Sometimes they also stayed for a meal. Of course I always were the center of their attention and it was clear that they only came for me. I started to feel like a chimpanzee girl in a Zoo. The worst thing was that they all were talking together at the same time nobody seemed to listen to the other, I couldn't understand a word and that got very much on my nerves, because it was also very, very loud.
</p><p>
To escape to this (without a lot of success) I took a book and settled down in the garden. It was full of vegetables and not really a garden to sit down and rest. Everybody had to plant the most things he could, because the country was very poor and each piece of ground was used to let grow something to eat. A very friendly chicken was walking around me and cackled. I didn't know yet that my two legged friend would be roasted on the table at Sunday ! Of course that drove me sick, I couldn't eat a piece of it. I had never eaten an animal with which I just had talked the day before ! Of course my hosts couldn't understand my strange behavior, as they probably had prepared that for me.
</p><p>I sat their peacefully reading, in shorts and a top. Suddenly I had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. I looked around and saw eyes starring on me behind the stores of the surrounding houses, which had been opened a little. I tried not to care. Today I realize it was quite provoking to them sitting there half naked in their eyes, being blond and tall, while all women were dressed in black and covered from top to bottom.
</p><p>
But suddenly I saw a man's head over the wall which separated the garden from others, and then two, and more and they changed while laughing and discussing probably all parts of my body. I told them in Italian to go away not angry but also laughing, because I thought if I would look angry they would even get more excited, and I had no intention to leave my nice sunny place to go inside the house in this electric light darkness.
</p><p>
Then they started to jump up and down the wall to look at me and suddenly one tried to climb over. In this moment a tiny little woman came running out of the house. She looked like a scarecrow, all dressed in black. She waved her arms in menacing gests and screamed to the boys, pulled me out of the chair and pushed me in the house. She was amazingly strong but at least one head smaller then I.
</p><p>
Inside the house she talked to me like a waterfall gesticulating at the same time. She looked really scaring. Outside I heard a police car and loud voices. It was Zia Petrina, the aunt and she decided that from that day I wasn't allowed to sit in the garden anymore and honnestly I didn't want to either. I suddenly could understand movie stars harassed by paparazzi.</p><p>Zia (which means aunt) Petrina became my body guard, I will write about her tomorrow.
</p><p>
</p><p>
</p><p>
Another of my Sicilian adventures was <a href="http://gattina-writercramps.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-have-been-angel.html">I HAVE BEEN AN ANGEL,</a></p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-32193326093105286262007-05-04T07:20:00.000+01:002007-05-04T05:37:34.076+01:00FRIDAY FEAST 143<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjFogMJoUkI/AAAAAAAACVM/cPIEElD4qcw/s1600-h/FRIDAY+FEAST.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057938758740496962" style="WIDTH: 155px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 131px" height="131" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjFogMJoUkI/AAAAAAAACVM/cPIEElD4qcw/s200/FRIDAY+FEAST.JPG" width="181" border="0" /></a>
<p align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjqndsJoW1I/AAAAAAAACnU/5UFDLGgZsu0/s1600-h/File+40+012-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060541259813772114" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjqndsJoW1I/AAAAAAAACnU/5UFDLGgZsu0/s320/File+40+012-1.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><div align="center">Pookie has already finished and drinks her coffee
</div><p>
</p><p>
Appetizer
Name something you would not want to own.
<p>
<em><span style="color:#cc0000;">a crocodile as house pet which would then want to share my bath tube with me.
</span></p></em><em><p>
</em></p>Soup
Describe your hair (texture, color, length, etc.).
<p>
<em><span style="color:#990000;">Easy ! Imagine a thin round yellow haystack
</span></p></em><em><p>
</em></p>Salad
Finish this sentence: I’ll never forget <em><span style="color:#330099;">Friday Feast</span></em>.
<p>
Main Course
Which famous person would you like to be for one day? Why?
<p>
<span style="color:#990000;"><em>Camilla, wearing funny hats with feathers and vegetables on, petting horses and children (in this order) smiling happily around and take her jewlery with me when the day is over.
</em>
</span><p>
Dessert
Write one sentence about yourself that includes one thing that is true and another thing that is not.
<p>
<em><span style="color:#000066;"><span style="color:#990000;">It is true that I always do things opposit to the once I am asked for. Untrue is that I would do things what I am asked for.
</span></p></span></em><p>
<p>
<p>
<strong>if you are looking for Cyber Cruise port ANTWERP go </strong><a href="http://gattinatravels.blogspot.com/"><strong>here</strong></a><strong>
</strong><p>
</p><em><span style="color:#000066;"><p>
</span></em>
<p>
<p>
<p>
<script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=Gattina&postid=04May2007&meme=ff" type="text/javascript"></script>
</p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-32438076198965925262007-05-03T06:13:00.000+01:002007-05-03T07:30:00.285+01:00THURSDAY THIRTEEN<p><a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" src="http://img157.imageshack.us/img157/9994/acat13cp1.gif" border="0" /></a>
<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" src="http://img256.imageshack.us/img256/3608/thirsday13pr0.gif" border="0" /></a>
</p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjiQAsJoV7I/AAAAAAAACgE/qDRjLWwUn-s/s1600-h/File+49+021-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059952522876704690" style="CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjiQAsJoV7I/AAAAAAAACgE/qDRjLWwUn-s/s320/File+49+021-1.jpg" border="0" /></a>
</div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">How to meow and not to miou in English
</div>
I have 13 questions about the English language :
<p>
1) Why One tooth, two teeth and not toothes, or one foot, and not two foots but feet ?
</p><p>
2) Why is one goose two geese and why not booth and beeth or moose and meese ?
</p><p>
3) Why is cargo by ship ?
</p><p>
4) why do you ship by truck and not truck by truck ?
</p><p>
5) Why are boxing rings square
</p><p>
6. Why something can burn up as it burns down ?
</p><p>
7. Why do you have a slim chance and a fat chance
</p><p>
8. Why do you fill in a form by filling it out
</p><p>
9. Why does an alarm goes off by going on.
</p><p>
10. Why did teachers taught, and preachers not praught
</p><p>
11. Why is a hedgehog a pig ? and even of a hedge ?
</p><p>
12. Wy do you say eggplant and there is no egg in it
</p><p>
13 Why guinea pig ? It is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
</p><p>
</p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjiSsMJoV8I/AAAAAAAACgM/MjrVM5KQ4LI/s1600-h/nondurex.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059955469224269762" style="CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjiSsMJoV8I/AAAAAAAACgM/MjrVM5KQ4LI/s320/nondurex.jpg" border="0" /></a></p>
<p>
toothes or teeth ?
<p>
<p>
<p>
<strong>FOR CAT LOVERS THURSDAY 13 is </strong><a href="http://gattinamycats.blogspot.com/"><strong>here</strong></a><strong>
</strong>
<p>
<p>
<p>
<strong>if you are looking for Cyber Cruise port ANTWERP go </strong><a href="http://gattinatravels.blogspot.com/"><strong>here</strong></a><strong>
</strong><p>
<p>
<script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=Gattina&postid=02May2007a&meme=tt" type="text/javascript"></script>
</p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-40278944459734389352007-05-02T18:16:00.000+01:002007-05-02T08:05:13.221+01:00WW & CYBER CRUISE ENTRY<strong>For Wordless Wednesday please scroll down !
</strong>
<p align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdEv8JoVxI/AAAAAAAACe0/osVhy8yUFO8/s1600-h/imagei.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059588296765101842" style="" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdEv8JoVxI/AAAAAAAACe0/osVhy8yUFO8/s320/imagei.jpg" border="0" /></a>
</p><p align="center">
Pookie welcomes you to our visit to Antwerp
<a href="http://www.bigoo.ws/2-Glitters.htm"><img alt="MySpace hosted images" src="http://media.bigoo.ws/content/glitter/miscellaneous/miscellaneous_192.gif" border="0" /></a>
a little drink first</p>
<p align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdI6sJoVyI/AAAAAAAACe8/hom98ixL69Q/s1600-h/Antwerp_City.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059592879495206690" style="width: 225px; height: 186px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdI6sJoVyI/AAAAAAAACe8/hom98ixL69Q/s320/Antwerp_City.jpg" border="0" height="228" width="244" /></a></p><p align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdLcsJoV0I/AAAAAAAACfM/FzR94x3K8Gc/s1600-h/00003774.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059595662634014530" style="width: 204px; height: 284px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdLcsJoV0I/AAAAAAAACfM/FzR94x3K8Gc/s320/00003774.jpg" border="0" height="309" width="204" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdMUcJoV1I/AAAAAAAACfU/HaF1moFMsDM/s1600-h/VisaCardNoBank.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059596620411721554" style="" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdMUcJoV1I/AAAAAAAACfU/HaF1moFMsDM/s320/VisaCardNoBank.gif" border="0" /></a>
</p>
<p>
Take your walking shoes and of course this ! Empty your piggy banks !!
</p>
<p>
we go to
</p><p>
<strong>ANTWERP THE DIAMOND TOWN !!!
</strong></p><p><strong>
</strong>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdD-sJoVwI/AAAAAAAACes/2Rh4W93fWD0/s1600-h/Brillanten.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059587450656544514" style="" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdD-sJoVwI/AAAAAAAACes/2Rh4W93fWD0/s320/Brillanten.jpg" border="0" /></a>
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<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img src="http://img404.imageshack.us/img404/5624/00009710be4.gif" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /></a>
</p><p>
<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Entrance :</span></span> click <a href="http://gattinatravels.blogspot.com/">here</a> (no entrance fee above 20) !
</p><p>
<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img style="width: 380px; height: 49px;" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" src="http://img118.imageshack.us/img118/6181/parrott2bj9.gif" border="0" height="81" width="309" /></a> </p>
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</p><p><strong>WORDLESS WEDNESDAY
</strong></p>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdQicJoV3I/AAAAAAAACfk/dUph-OzV7Vo/s1600-h/image004.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059601258976401266" style="" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdQicJoV3I/AAAAAAAACfk/dUph-OzV7Vo/s400/image004.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdQScJoV2I/AAAAAAAACfc/fmUg2nA-Cys/s1600-h/platinum17.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059600984098494306" style="" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjdQScJoV2I/AAAAAAAACfc/fmUg2nA-Cys/s400/platinum17.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=Gattina&postid=02May2007&meme=ww" type="text/javascript"></script>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-49781628494533039152007-05-01T05:24:00.000+01:002014-07-15T16:39:47.524+01:00TUESDAY LAUGHS : AN ITALIAN GOES ABROAD<br />
<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjbAJ8JoVLI/AAAAAAAACaE/nLFXTipurnI/s1600-h/gmuguet.gif"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjbAJ8JoVLI/AAAAAAAACaE/nLFXTipurnI/s320/gmuguet.gif" height="257" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059442508395205810" style="cursor: hand; height: 208px; width: 172px;" width="210" /></a></div><div align="center">Today is a holiday, labor day ! In Belgium it's the use to offer at least one lilly of the valley or a bouquet to your family and friends. So this is my bouquet for you ! </div><br />
<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjK3d8JoUwI/AAAAAAAACWs/fRIE1SWOKbo/s1600-h/File+61+022-1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjK3d8JoUwI/AAAAAAAACWs/fRIE1SWOKbo/s320/File+61+022-1.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058307056481096450" style="cursor: hand;" /></a></div><div align="center">Pookie enjoys her sheets ! </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">When we are with people at home or out Mr. Gattino likes to speak english and tell this story with a very strong Italian accent. You know Italians are unable <b>not</b> to pronounce the "r".For example Laura becomes "Lowwwwwwwra". Although I have heard this at least 1000 times during 38 years of marriage, it still makes me laugh. So now immagine to "roll" the "r's" and hear an Italian accent. </div><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjK3tsJoUxI/AAAAAAAACW0/u956qqNwccU/s1600-h/File+60+023-1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjK3tsJoUxI/AAAAAAAACW0/u956qqNwccU/s320/File+60+023-1.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058307327064036114" style="cursor: hand;" /></a> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 85%;">The actor with Yanouk (neighbor's dog) </span> </div><div align="left">"One day ima gonna London to bigga hotel. In morning I go down to eat breakfast. I tella waitress I wanna two pissis toast. She brings me only one piss; I talla her I want two piss. She say go to the toilet. I say you no understand, I wanna to piss onna my plate. She say you better no piss onna plate, you sonna ma bitch. I don't even know the lady and she call me sonna ma bitch. </div><div align="left">Later I go to eat at the bigga restaurant. The waitress brings me a spoon and knife but no fock. I tella her I wanna fock. She tell me everyone wanna fock. I tell her you no understand. I wanna fock on the table. She say better not fock on the table, you sonna ma bitch. </div><div align="left">So I go back to my room and there is no shits onna my bed. Call the manager and tella him I wanna shit. He tell me to go to toilet. I say you no understand. I wanna shit on my bed. He say you better not shit onna bed, you sonna ma bitch </div><div align="left">I go to the checkout and the man at the desk say : "Peace on you". I say piss on you too, you sonna ma bitch, I gonna back to Italy !" </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">Accents can sometimes be very funny, be assured that I don't sink but think ! </div><br />
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Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-90147860850297401842007-04-30T05:19:00.000+01:002007-04-30T11:25:49.510+01:00MANIC MONDAY-SILENT<a href="http://img409.imageshack.us/my.php?image=manic2fu4.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us" src="http://img409.imageshack.us/img409/7081/manic2fu4.th.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<p>
<span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Want to participate to a humorous story contest "This Blog Blows My Dress Up") ? It's here : at Shelly Kneupper Tucker's blog </strong></span></span><a href="http://thiseclecticlife.com/contest/"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330033;"><strong>"The Eclectic Life"</strong></span></a><strong><span style="color:#330033;">
</span><span style="color:#330033;"></span></strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>
<span style="font-size:85%;"></span>
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<p align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjVtVMJoVBI/AAAAAAAACY0/U0rCT6sfc9o/s1600-h/File+53+018-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059069967226917906" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjVtVMJoVBI/AAAAAAAACY0/U0rCT6sfc9o/s320/File+53+018-1.jpg" border="0" /></a></p>
The word silent is rather a sad word because it often discribes negative situations. If you are a silent witness, you probably have seen somebody killed. The expression "silent as a grave" means that deads don't speak. If you are silent about something, that means that you have something to hide. A priest has the duty to remain silent whatever he hears, even crimes. Therefore quite a lot were murdered by torture during the middle age because they remained silent. At court too you have the right to remain silent and that's also probably something bad you can't speak about. Silent minutes are observed to honor a tragedy etc.
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<p>
The only positive "silent" is the silent movie. It must have been quite an event when the first films were shown. It usually took place in all kind of places wherever they could put a screen. Movie theatres came later. The movie was always accompagnied by a piano player on an old piano and the more it sounded false the more it was fun.
<p>
Especially in dramatic scenes he hammered on the piano as if he wanted to brake it. The actors had to overact and express their feelings or fear by exaggerated mimic. To us today it really looks too funny. There were a lot of famous actors and they were all adored. But when the sound film came out, most of them didn't find any role anymore because they had an awful voice ! What a disappointment.</p>Here are a few pictures and how the actors where categorized.
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTDLcJoU_I/AAAAAAAACYk/cx3zywRpzn8/s1600-h/vamp.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058882882746471410" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTDLcJoU_I/AAAAAAAACYk/cx3zywRpzn8/s200/vamp.jpg" border="0" /></a>
This Lady was considered a "Vamp" I think there are a lot of "vamps" running around today
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTDGsJoU-I/AAAAAAAACYc/PTUXF8HjB8M/s1600-h/Virgin.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058882801142092770" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTDGsJoU-I/AAAAAAAACYc/PTUXF8HjB8M/s200/Virgin.jpg" border="0" /></a>
which is probably not the case anymore for "Virgin". Charly Chaplin with a virgin (I have my doubts)
</p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTC_MJoU9I/AAAAAAAACYU/YUhpX724BJw/s1600-h/NudeBellamy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058882672293073874" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTC_MJoU9I/AAAAAAAACYU/YUhpX724BJw/s200/NudeBellamy.jpg" border="0" /></a>
A nude was represented like this and made already a big scandal. If the producers would see the "nudes" today .....
<div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTC58JoU8I/AAAAAAAACYM/44o9pT1dMRM/s1600-h/NudeKeaton.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058882582098760642" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTC58JoU8I/AAAAAAAACYM/44o9pT1dMRM/s200/NudeKeaton.jpg" border="0" /></a>
Buster Keaton also "posed" nude. Today a topless torse is not considered as a nude but at this time it was.
<div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTCg8JoU4I/AAAAAAAACXs/Pqv1toNwe0A/s1600-h/Cooper17.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058882152602030978" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTCg8JoU4I/AAAAAAAACXs/Pqv1toNwe0A/s200/Cooper17.jpg" border="0" /></a>
Believe it or not, but this is Gary Cooper, he also was an actor in silent movies but could switch over to sound films. He filled in the category "Cowboy".
<div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTCb8JoU3I/AAAAAAAACXk/Njtqe1QgNXg/s1600-h/Valentino+Sheik.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058882066702685042" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTCb8JoU3I/AAAAAAAACXk/Njtqe1QgNXg/s200/Valentino+Sheik.jpg" border="0" /></a>
The famous Valentino played "Sheiks"</div>
<div></div>
<div>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTClcJoU5I/AAAAAAAACX0/ffF0VCQu_KE/s1600-h/BoysCvr.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058882229911442322" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTClcJoU5I/AAAAAAAACX0/ffF0VCQu_KE/s200/BoysCvr.jpg" border="0" /></a>
The movies of Laurel and Hardy are still liked to be seen.
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepS9alkUF9n9SXwcg9pWUxIcPoKU6b1D7ZnvBamBfYaAo_Bua-SRHw0YaoHW2EoJBasAkPhx75ClUQiWFxX7WwQLjf62vpJ6fvy_9smM6bIMATPBBd-m-oCsQZLMVQ00hDK-x/s1600-h/Moore108.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058882509084316594" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepS9alkUF9n9SXwcg9pWUxIcPoKU6b1D7ZnvBamBfYaAo_Bua-SRHw0YaoHW2EoJBasAkPhx75ClUQiWFxX7WwQLjf62vpJ6fvy_9smM6bIMATPBBd-m-oCsQZLMVQ00hDK-x/s200/Moore108.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTCucJoU6I/AAAAAAAACX8/NWf9r0WNVdw/s1600-h/Gloria+Swanson.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058882384530264994" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTCucJoU6I/AAAAAAAACX8/NWf9r0WNVdw/s200/Gloria+Swanson.jpg" border="0" /></a>
movie posters
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTDRcJoVAI/AAAAAAAACYs/qBMzEDVOcOc/s1600-h/Flash.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058882985825686530" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjTDRcJoVAI/AAAAAAAACYs/qBMzEDVOcOc/s200/Flash.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<div></div>
<div>Animals played in the silent movies too and probably the piano player hammered some notes to make the piano bark.
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<a href="http://imageshack.us"><img style="WIDTH: 358px; HEIGHT: 33px" height="56" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" src="http://img441.imageshack.us/img441/1170/roselinexg1.gif" width="371" border="0" /></a>
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For those who are silent today I just repeat a comment I have got from an American woman :</p><p>
"<em>I don't think anyone should have a gun. The founding fathers wrote that into the constitution so people could protect themselves against the indians and against insurgents by the goverment. There was no thought given at that time to assault rifles that could fire 1000 bullets per minute!!!! Good lord already</em>!!!"
</p><div></div></div></div></div></div>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-49054424986949362492007-04-29T06:30:00.000+01:002007-04-29T05:03:30.322+01:00ONE DRINK OR MORE ?<p align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjQM1cJoUyI/AAAAAAAACW8/529HvponOwc/s1600-h/File+64+019-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058682393673093922" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjQM1cJoUyI/AAAAAAAACW8/529HvponOwc/s320/File+64+019-1.jpg" border="0" /></a></p>
<p>
Statistics show an amazing amount of alcoholic women, I don't remember the number and I don't care. Anyway numbers are numbers and doesn't mean much because a lot of women drink secretly and no statistics can count them.
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The first alcoolic woman I saw in my life was the mother of a girlfriend. I didn't know why she had so strange eyes and didn't walk right. I thought she was sick and that finally was the truth. Everybody whispered behind her back because every day she went to the shop around the corner to buy herself a bottle of wine, where every women in the area did their shopping.
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Sometimes she had no money and she asked one of them to borrow her some. But after a while women found an excuse, as she never gave the money back. So she asked the shop owner, who pittied her and gave her the wine. (husband had to pay later) My mother too slandered over her and told me all these stories. I didn't understand anything, the only thing I felt was pitty with her. My friend too treated her very badly. Then, one day I didn't see her any more and I suppose she went to a specialized hospital.
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The next one was an around 50 year old woman with whom I used to work. Once taking a file out I found 1 full and 3 empty whisky bottles. Now I understood why she had these mood changes. She bitched over everything and when she came back from the filing cabinet, she was suddenly all smiles.
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Years later when I were in the 50th I noticed that a lot of women around me appreciated very much (too much) cocktails or wine. Especially those who didn't work anymore or those who realized that household and family wasn't enough to fullfil their lifes. Children had grown up and they felt useless. When I was hospitalized for depression alcoholics and depressives were on the same floor. I heard a lot of terrible human tragedies to fill a whole book about human misery.
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It's amazing what a creative mind and phantasy women develop to hide their drinks. Parfum bottles when they were invited (so that they could take it with them and officially not drinking much) small plastic water bottles filled with Wodka or Gin, medication bottles etc. Everything was good. At home there also were enough places in the dryer, between oil and vinegar bottles, behind clothes in the wardrobe behind books on shelves, in the garbidge etc etc. Even in their cars. I knew one who used to hide her bottle amongst a pile of empty water bottles. The kitchen also was considered as a nice hiding place as usually husbands don't check very often the content of the cupboards.
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During my stay there, a little 75 year old lady with rosy cheaks and white curls, was taken to the emergency service because she had emptied all available parfum bottles in the rooms while the others were eating. Another one who was allowed to go out for the first time after 3 weeks of abstinence, came back like a drunken sailor, had to be locked in and bawled like a hurt animal the whole night. It was terrible.
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It happens mostly to women when the children are gone, or if they loose their work or go in pension. Suddenly their life changes completely and they have to face the problem of having too much time. And then they get bored.
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It's a big problem and cannot be solved so easily. Alcoholism is a sad desease although we are laughing about them when they speak so funny or are dancing on a table.</p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-63377246108079509242007-04-28T09:52:00.000+01:002007-04-28T09:23:56.782+01:00TAKE PUBLIC TRANSPORT !<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zf7cHOj59XCtd-fKwLo5H35SS4boLJAOqOPodYFYWO6-nIg65IyaUDjixc8H8PvoEZ8YXFz0yEVJLZYFBx1zOFECP0njqjKCAcR4T46v6FwhfTAxrPDmgZ3LaSQs6wcgMCc6/s1600-h/File+38+015-3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058090697503560354" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zf7cHOj59XCtd-fKwLo5H35SS4boLJAOqOPodYFYWO6-nIg65IyaUDjixc8H8PvoEZ8YXFz0yEVJLZYFBx1zOFECP0njqjKCAcR4T46v6FwhfTAxrPDmgZ3LaSQs6wcgMCc6/s320/File+38+015-3.jpg" border="0" /></a></p>
<p align="center">Take the train and not your car !</p>
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<a href="http://imageshack.us"><img style="WIDTH: 394px; HEIGHT: 15px" height="15" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" src="http://img241.imageshack.us/img241/2392/trainha3.gif" width="549" border="0" /></a> </p>
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I rarely take public transports, but sometimes it's better especially when you are going to a town where you are sure that you have to drive around for hours to find a parking place.
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I wanted to go to Antwerp to take some pictures and also go to the Zoo. I wanted to see how my ancestors looked like. Together with a friend we took the train at Waterloo Station to go to Brussels South and there take a direct train to Antwerp. When we arrived at the platform a train just arrived. My friend ran and jumped in. What should I do, I followed her and did the same. In the train I asked "Are you sure that this train goes to Brussels South" and she answered, of course, all trains are going there.
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Suddenly I realized that we were in a tunnel, but on the way to Brussels South there was no tunnel. I told her. She looked at me in horror and said "I think we are in the wrong train" That really was a discovery because when she asked the lady sitting besides us she just confirmed. We were on the way to another town, far away from South Station and far away from Antwerp too. So at the next stop we jumped out and looked for a train to South Station.
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We looked at the timetable and yes, there were even two, one in 5 and one in 10 min. We ran over to the right platform and I sat down to wait for the train. My friend instead saw a train standing there and was convinced that it was already the right one, she hurried over to ask and just when she arrived the train started to move and was gone. Now she got really nervous and thought we would never arrive. But the right train arrived and we finally got to the South Station.
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Again we looked at the timetable to see at what time the train arrived for Antwerp and also which platform. It was n° 19 and in 7 min. We sprinted over to n° 19 and arrived breathless just 5 min before the departure. The train was not yet there. Suddenly a voice from the loudspeaker informed us that the platform n° had changed and the train would arrive at n° 21. We ran again, down steps, up steps to the right platform. The train wasn't there. We gathered our spirits and waited anxiously for it's arrival. Suddenly the loudspeaker told us that they were sorry but we should please go to platform n° 19 ! Ready for a nervous breakdown we jumped down and up the steps and arrived again at n°19 where we had been at the very beginning. Now it was really time for the train and suddenly we saw it coming but not on our platform 19 but on platform 21 ! That was new. So far we had twice 19 and once 20 and now 21. As sportif as two snails we quickly ran over to platform 21 and had just time to jump in the last wagon.
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We both looked as if we had climbed on the Mount Everest. When I got my breath back I noticed that I badly had to go to the restroom and before settling down for good I looked around. Fortunately there was one just behind me. Sighing with relief I opened the door and .... the train driver was sitting there not on a toilet but on his seat in the driving cabine !
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But there is a happy end ! We arrived finally in Antwerp only half an hour late and there we only took twice a wrong tramway !
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjHz7MJoUrI/AAAAAAAACWE/-CpwW82PkG4/s1600-h/File+63+065-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058092054713225906" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjHz7MJoUrI/AAAAAAAACWE/-CpwW82PkG4/s320/File+63+065-1.jpg" border="0" /></a>
And last but not least could admire my ancestor
</p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-75494010913221095612007-04-27T08:05:00.000+01:002007-04-27T12:15:08.047+01:00FRIDAY FEAST 142Want to participate to a humorous story contest "This Blog Blows My Dress Up" ? It's here : at Shelly Kneupper Tucker's blog <a href="http://thiseclecticlife.com/contest/"><strong><span style="color:#330033;">"The Eclectic Life"</span></strong></a><strong><span style="color:#330033;">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjFogMJoUkI/AAAAAAAACVM/cPIEElD4qcw/s1600-h/FRIDAY+FEAST.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057938758740496962" style="WIDTH: 155px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 131px" height="131" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjFogMJoUkI/AAAAAAAACVM/cPIEElD4qcw/s200/FRIDAY+FEAST.JPG" width="181" border="0" /></a>
<p>
</p><p align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjFp9MJoUmI/AAAAAAAACVc/sm7LdVwctLY/s1600-h/File+51+046-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057940356468331106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjFp9MJoUmI/AAAAAAAACVc/sm7LdVwctLY/s320/File+51+046-1.jpg" border="0" /></a> Pookie is ready with the drink</p><p align="center"></p><p>
</p><strong>Appetizer</strong>
How fast can you type?
<p>
<span style="color:#000066;">That's one thing in my life that I do really very fast. When I typed on an IBM typewriter with a ball, it always jumped out and rolled to my boss' open office door and he shouted, "can't you type a little slower, I have to pick that up all 5 min !"
</p></span><span style="color:#000066;"><p>
</span><p>
<strong>Soup
</strong>What is your favorite online game?</p>
<p>
<span style="color:#000066;">Answering spams ! They are so funny ! Last time I have even got an email from a "Princess" who wanted me to place 20 mill "<em>which were derived from his vast estates and investment in capital market with his bank here in UK. Presently, this money is still with the Bank. Recently, my Doctor told me that I have limited days to live due to the cancerous problems I am suffering from"</em>. Then she asked me to keep this money for her because " <em>I don't want my relation or anybody to know because they are always around me".</em> Isn't that nice ? I will become rich. I suggested her to shoot her relatives.
</p></span><span style="color:#000066;"><p>
</span>
<strong>Salad
</strong>On a scale of 1 to 10 (with 10 as highest), how intelligent do you think you are?
<p>
<span style="color:#000066;">I don't care, ask the others if they find me intelligent ! </span>
<p>
<strong>Main Course
</strong>
Name three of your best teachers from your school years.
<p>
<span style="color:#000066;">Name three ? who invented that question ? If I tell you it was Mr. Bullshit, Mrs. Catnip, and Miss Getmeaman, how can you check it ? They are all dead anyway</span>.
<p>
<strong>Dessert
</strong>What are your plans for this upcoming weekend? </p><p>
<span style="color:#000066;">To make a plan for the next weekend.
</p></span><p>
</p>
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</span></strong><strong><span style="color:#330033;"></span></strong>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-66235973448220452312007-04-26T06:22:00.000+01:002007-04-26T04:02:07.627+01:00THURSDAY THIRTEEN UNKNOWN N°<p>
<a href="http://imageshack.us"><img alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" src="http://img157.imageshack.us/img157/9994/acat13cp1.gif" border="0" /></a>
<a href="http://imageshack.us"><img alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" src="http://img256.imageshack.us/img256/3608/thirsday13pr0.gif" border="0" /></a>
<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjAPecJoUgI/AAAAAAAACUs/djKjuhsotSM/s1600-h/File+46+051-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057559397164143106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjAPecJoUgI/AAAAAAAACUs/djKjuhsotSM/s320/File+46+051-1.jpg" border="0" /></a> Pookie waits too
</div>
THIRTEEN THINGS WHAT PEOPLE DO WHILE WAITING
<p>
<p>
1. They take out their mobile call somebody and everybody can listen to the latest family news
<p>
2. They "read" a book while observing all people around above the border
<p>
3. They look around for a victim to chat and start : "How long are you waiting ?"
<p>
4. They admire their shoes for a while
<p>
5. They look for something in their nostrils and admire what they found
<p>
6. They finally have the time to clean their ears
<p>
7. They gnaw their nails
<p>
8. They take out a mirror and admire themselves moving cheaks from left to right
<p>
9. They check their shoes if they are dirty
<p>
10. They fall asleep and snore, mouth open
<p>
11. They clean their glasses
<p>
12. They admire their hands, fingers and fingernails
<p>
13. They stare at the door as if they want to open it with just one glance
<p>
<p>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjARpcJoUhI/AAAAAAAACU0/eH-VbagLm3w/s1600-h/spoedgevallenstofzuiger.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057561785165959698" style="CURSOR: hand" height="355" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RjARpcJoUhI/AAAAAAAACU0/eH-VbagLm3w/s400/spoedgevallenstofzuiger.jpg" width="357" border="0" /></a>
<p><strong><span style="color:#330033;">I participate to a humorous story contest called "This Blog Blows My Dress Up" (although I am not wearing dresses). This contest takes place at Shelly Kneupper Tucker's blog </span></strong><a href="http://thiseclecticlife.com/contest/"><strong><span style="color:#330033;">"The Eclectic Life"</span></strong></a><strong><span style="color:#330033;"> There you can read my entries and others of course. So if you want to participate and make us laugh then enter a funny story.
</span></strong><p>
<p>
<script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=Gattina&postid=26Apr2007a&meme=tt" type="text/javascript"></script>
</p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-91545126841851111322007-04-25T06:29:00.000+01:002007-04-25T05:19:59.460+01:00WORDLESS WEDNESDAY<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNzv-nCDeVpeYw33uGVPpKACttPeQbh-EumFIflECL_1eLFf_JESCjsoc4BNYiw-AzgXx0OPGtjucPOGz0Yw2VQpn9nnXZYPRy4JGqSJA2_V61MMYoq7UxaLMD3Bvd3yM0q8kl/s1600-h/Wordless+Wednesday+1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056991668473237010" style="WIDTH: 151px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px" height="187" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNzv-nCDeVpeYw33uGVPpKACttPeQbh-EumFIflECL_1eLFf_JESCjsoc4BNYiw-AzgXx0OPGtjucPOGz0Yw2VQpn9nnXZYPRy4JGqSJA2_V61MMYoq7UxaLMD3Bvd3yM0q8kl/s200/Wordless+Wednesday+1.JPG" width="164" border="0" /></a>
<div>
FIRST PRICE
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Ri4Gfh91DdI/AAAAAAAACS8/TCqhdtAOcy8/s1600-h/File+62+005-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056986570347056594" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Ri4Gfh91DdI/AAAAAAAACS8/TCqhdtAOcy8/s400/File+62+005-1.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Ri4G5R91DfI/AAAAAAAACTM/wLAKHRMvReo/s1600-h/File+62+008-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056987012728688114" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Ri4G5R91DfI/AAAAAAAACTM/wLAKHRMvReo/s400/File+62+008-1.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Ri4GqB91DeI/AAAAAAAACTE/8JsNEgNcr5c/s1600-h/File+62+007-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056986750735683042" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Ri4GqB91DeI/AAAAAAAACTE/8JsNEgNcr5c/s400/File+62+007-1.jpg" border="0" /></a>
I only explain ! Otherwise I am completely wordless. Here are the socks which I have got together with a wiking hat and two books about Sweden for the first Price I won in the <a href="http://gattina-writercramps.blogspot.com/2007/04/wordless-wednesday-1st-price.html">Cyber Cruise Hat Parade</a> ! To prove that the socks really had toes I put little ceramic cats in between, and of course Pookie had to check. </div>
<p>
<p>
<a href="http://gattinamycats.blogspot.com/"><strong><span style="color:#330099;">CATS WORDLESS WEDNESDAY</span></strong></a><strong><span style="color:#330099;">
</span></strong><p>
<script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=Gattina&postid=25Apr2007a&meme=ww" type="text/javascript"></script>
</p>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-45448525030484279342007-04-24T07:37:00.000+01:002007-05-04T16:41:10.883+01:00I HAVE BEEN AN ANGEL<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" src="http://img172.imageshack.us/img172/3959/tuesdaylaughs1qk9.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RizA2B91DSI/AAAAAAAACRU/7yjiXzkH-2Q/s1600-h/File+59+001-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056628516103458082" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RizA2B91DSI/AAAAAAAACRU/7yjiXzkH-2Q/s320/File+59+001-1.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<p>
In 1966 I took for the first time an airplane to join my First Love (afterwardes named FL) in Sicily. He stayed with his parents in Messina and I wanted to join him there for my holidays.
</p><p>
Now in 1966 Sicily was very far from Tourisme and the country was very poor. People still imigrated to the States and Mario Puzzo was probably just busy writing his book "The Godfather" (it was published in 1969) The Mafia was everywhere although I didn't know it. Only years later there were many things which I suddenly understood.
</p><p>
A lot of people were illitrated too. One day FL decided to go into the mountains in a little village to wash the car. There were not many fountains around and the drive up to this village was just beautiful. I had a sight all over the town, over the see until Italy.
</p><p>
We arrived in this little village and got out of the car. As dead as the village had looked when we arrived, suddenly people came out of the houses and approached. I didn't know what to do so I sat on a bank besides the fountain. Now I have to say I looked really very "extra terrestre" to them with my blond hair and my tall figure. People here were all short and very dark and some of them had an arabic look. While FL started with his carwash, women of all ages appeared with their children and the dogs were joining too. I wore a light blue organza dress with white spots, which was very fashionable at this moment, with volants on the skirt and around the short sleeves. It looked a little like a silky sahri.
</p><p>
Suddenly an old woman shouted : " Un angelo" I didn't realize what she said but suddenly I was surrounded by all the women. I asked FL what happened and he laughed and said : "They take you for an angel " I thought he was joking and just wanted to put my finger on my front when the women started to touch my dress and my arms.
</p><p>
Now I got nervous I didn't like this at all. Men came too and joined the women. There was a big group around us all chatting together. Suddenly a young woman came to me and wanted to give me her baby, I just wanted to refuse when FL told me to better take it.
</p><p>
With 23 I was not really a specialist in baby holding but I tried to do my best and not drop it and sat there helpless with the baby in my arms. The woman said something. I asked what she had said. To my surprise he started to laugh like crazy hiding his head in the car and between his laughing he told me that I should bless the baby ! Bless the baby ! I thought I had misunderstood but apparently not, because the woman smiled at me and pointed at the baby.
</p><p>
Fortunately it was sleeping. I told FL that I couldn't do it that this was completely crazy, but he stopped laughing directed his eyes to the men and said : "you better do" And indeed the men looked quite hostile. So I gathered all my church knowledges, made a cross on the baby's front and stroke over his haed and sincerely hoped that I did it well. There was no other choice, we were far from civilisation and it could be quite dangerous. After 3 or 4 babies I felt much better and started even to find the situation funny. Now I had to hide my amusement. When I was finished with the babies, the toddlers came and then the small children and I continued my blessings.
</p><p>
Apparently I did my job well, because when the old women started and wanted to be blessed too I refused and asked FL to tell them that I was only responsible for children. I don't know what for a story he told them, but they stepped back.
</p><p>
Now a big hullaballoo started they pulled me up and pushed me direction houses and I really got scared with all these laughing and screeming people around me. But the only thing they wanted was to invite us in their houses. Finally we made an agreement, we went to the village place and they all came and brought the best food they had. I wasn't hungry and also ashamed to accept food knowing that they themselves had hardly something to eat, but FL told me that I could not refuse if I didn't want to provoke a riot.
</p><p>
So we sat down under olvive trees at a very big table and I had the best food I ever had and the best wine too !
</p><p>
Nobody payed attention that I didn't speak, they probably thought that angels don't, but I couldn't understand a word because sicilian and italian is completely different.
</p><p>
When years later I read the "Godfather" I had to think about my adventure as an angel ! Indeed it could have been dangerous. Many people disappeared at that time.</p>
<strong><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">If you want to see here my </span></strong><a href="http://gattinapaintings.blogspot.com/"><strong><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">last paintings</span></strong></a><strong><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> I published them today.
</span></strong>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-54442577638141083622007-04-23T06:05:00.000+01:002012-05-26T16:24:37.767+01:00MANIC MONDAY - THE SUN<div align="center">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Rirhyh91DQI/AAAAAAAACRE/izf8cAEwnXo/s1600-h/File+26+036-1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056101789904211202" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Rirhyh91DQI/AAAAAAAACRE/izf8cAEwnXo/s320/File+26+036-1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a> Pookie looks at The Sun, nice place to nap on !
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" src="http://img183.imageshack.us/img183/5094/0200718082000vf9.jpg" /></a><a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" src="http://img147.imageshack.us/img147/3244/0200718122900um9.gif" /></a><a href="http://imageshack.us/"><img alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" src="http://img183.imageshack.us/img183/6716/0200717098100pq9.jpg" /></a></div>
<div align="left">
When I stayed in London at my son's house I took everyday the "tube" (subway) to go to the City Center. And each day the seats where covered by "<i>The Sun</i>" a newspaper which people had left behind. There were not a lot of people in the tube when I went to the city because I always tried to avoid the rush hours. </div>
<div align="left">
<br /></div>
<div align="left">
So I could read <i>"The Sun"</i> in peace and found it very interesting !
</div>
<div align="left">
For those who don't know, <i>"The Sun"</i> is a tabloid daily newspaper and is published in the UK and Ireland. It has the highest circulation of any daily English language newspaper in the world and publishes about 3.107.412 copies daily ! Their readership is just over 7.800.000 and it has more than twice as many readers as The Times. With me as reader now it makes 7.800.001. </div>
<div align="left">
<br /></div>
<div align="left">
Thanks to <i>The Sun</i> you know everything about politics, celebrities, crimes, weather and global warming.
</div>
<div align="left">
You can sleep without worry because Tom Cruises daughter has no diarrhea any more and eats well. You are informed how often Mrs. Bush goes to the beauty center, which she badly needed I agree. All marriage fights between Victoria and David Beckham are described in details, you even know the brand of the plate that she had thrown at him. </div>
<div align="left">
<br /></div>
<div align="left">
Today I learned that Britney Spears prays for her Dad and that her hair is slowly growing, if she doesn't shave it off again. </div>
<div align="left">
<br /></div>
<div align="left">
Prince William has at least one new girlfriend per day it depends on the edition time of <i>The Sun</i>. You will increase your general knowledge every day ! You now know that Hillary is using pink toilet paper (with white spots) and that Madonna will adopt a little chinese and not to forget that Elvis is still alive.
</div>
<div align="left">
Titles such as : </div>
<div align="left">
<br /></div>
<div align="left">
<i>- Judge frees women who forced tots to fight
</i></div>
<div align="left">
<i>
- Men bit his dog
</i></div>
<div align="left">
<i>
- Bush boozed found in a bush
</i></div>
<div align="left">
<i>
- Bratt and Angelina are they drug dealers ?
</i></div>
<div align="left">
<i>
- Woman found in a deepfreeze
</i></div>
<div align="left">
<i>
- George Clooney visits center for abandonned pigs</i></div>
<div align="left">
<i> </i>
</div>
<div align="left">
attract of course a lot of people, me included. If you put all the titles together you could make a bestseller ! If you wish to read more just go to<i> </i><a href="http://www.thesun.co.uk/section/0,,1,00.html"><i>The Sun</i></a> !
</div>
<div align="left">
<b><span style="font-size: 78%;">(Note from the author : the Titles are invented !)
</span></b>
</div>
</div>
<script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=Gattina&postid=22Apr2007&meme=manic" type="text/javascript">
</script>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-31556110111356664662007-04-22T07:56:00.000+01:002007-04-22T06:59:48.424+01:00NEW GUN LAW IN BELGIUM<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Rir4Ix91DRI/AAAAAAAACRM/klDjHyazld8/s1600-h/File+49+019-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056126361412111634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/Rir4Ix91DRI/AAAAAAAACRM/klDjHyazld8/s320/File+49+019-1.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<div>In Belgium since June 2006 nobody is allowed to own a gun or a rifle unless he has a special permission but it is extremely difficult to get one, this includes also hunters. They can get a permission but for rifles only. Each gun or rifle is registrated and the owner well known.
<p>
For policemen of course it is different as a gun is part of their work equipment. But this has changed too. Since yesterday a policemen is not allowed anymore to take his gun home. He has to leave it in his locker before he leaves.
<p>
Of course there have been a lot of pro and cons because sometimes a policemen even private could settle some fights in a subway for example if he would have a gun. We will see what the future will tell us.
<p>
The decision to make this new law came finally up when a policeman had shot his wife in a fit of jealousy last year.
<p>
With these laws Belgium has become or still is a quite safe country. Of course there are burglaries, car and home jackings but these are all criminal damages and can be replaced. Of course it happens too that people are murdered but never such massacres could occur like in the USA for example. With a knife you can only kill one person at the time, with strangling, beating etc. too. It's therefore impossible to shoot around like a mad cowboy and kill more than 30 people at one time, as it had happened last week in Virginia.
<p></p></div>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32508161.post-62939953896261887602007-04-21T07:02:00.000+01:002007-04-21T06:12:02.664+01:00I AM A HIPPY !<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RimXrx91DHI/AAAAAAAACP8/0PdVhBtkOZs/s1600-h/File+31+005-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055738835102927986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_okFQT4d69Z0/RimXrx91DHI/AAAAAAAACP8/0PdVhBtkOZs/s320/File+31+005-1.jpg" border="0" /></a> Pookie forgot to put flowers in her fur !
<p>
I like to look at test results of other people, but I don't really like it to do the test for myself. But this time I thought it would be fun to know what kind of girl I am (or if I am still a girl). To my surprise the result was "I am a Hippy" !
<p>
In some way it's true, I am a kind of hippy although I never lived in a community and I also know who is the father of my son.
<p>
The hippies came out of the student's revolution in the 60th against the establishment. They wanted to change the family rules and go back to nature. This was not so my styl. I still was for mariage and an only love at the time. I didn't want to live on the countryside although I love it. But sleeping together with cows, goats and dirty men was not really my style. I loved the idea of peace and love (pronounced in French like "Piss and laugh") and no war.
<p>
What I also liked very much was the Hippy fashion. I didn't wear any flowers in my hairs, but I liked the long skirts and the "wrinkle" look. I also had some trousers like the girl below with flowers on it. I remember a suede jacket with broderie on and goat fur which I loved to wear. I saw almost the same jacket not long ago in an American native exposition.
<p>
I also remember that at that time a lot of Belgian boys and girls escaped to Australia or to the Spanish Islands, where they lived in Hippy communities. They are probably today respectable fathers and mothers, with a house a garden grown up children and a cat and a dog. Gone the time of living in "nature".
<p>
There are still some hippies left on the Spanish Islands. I saw some, now my age, the men with long thin hair grey of course and the women with grey pigtails. They look a little out of time.
<p>
<table border='0' cellpadding='5' cellspacing='0' width='400'><tr><td><img src="http://quizfarm.com/images/1114323839girl1.jpg"></td><td> You scored as <b>Hippy</b>. <br><br><table border='0' width='200' cellspacing='0' cellpadding='0'><tr><td><p><font face='Arial' size='1'>Hippy</font></p></td><td><table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='75' bgcolor='#dddddd'><tr><td></td></tr></table></td><td><font face='Arial' size='1'>75%</font></td></tr><tr><td><p><font face='Arial' size='1'>Preppy Girl</font></p></td><td><table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='63' bgcolor='#dddddd'><tr><td></td></tr></table></td><td><font face='Arial' size='1'>63%</font></td></tr><tr><td><p><font face='Arial' size='1'>Slut</font></p></td><td><table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='63' bgcolor='#dddddd'><tr><td></td></tr></table></td><td><font face='Arial' size='1'>63%</font></td></tr><tr><td><p><font face='Arial' size='1'>Popular Bitch</font></p></td><td><table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='56' bgcolor='#dddddd'><tr><td></td></tr></table></td><td><font face='Arial' size='1'>56%</font></td></tr><tr><td><p><font face='Arial' size='1'>Nerdy Girl</font></p></td><td><table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='56' bgcolor='#dddddd'><tr><td></td></tr></table></td><td><font face='Arial' size='1'>56%</font></td></tr><tr><td><p><font face='Arial' size='1'>Athletic Tomboy</font></p></td><td><table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='44' bgcolor='#dddddd'><tr><td></td></tr></table></td><td><font face='Arial' size='1'>44%</font></td></tr><tr><td><p><font face='Arial' size='1'>Loser</font></p></td><td><table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='19' bgcolor='#dddddd'><tr><td></td></tr></table></td><td><font face='Arial' size='1'>19%</font></td></tr><tr><td><p><font face='Arial' size='1'>Goth</font></p></td><td><table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='13' bgcolor='#dddddd'><tr><td></td></tr></table></td><td><font face='Arial' size='1'>13%</font></td></tr></td></tr></table><br><a href='http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id=28443'>What type of girl are you?!!</a><br><font face='Arial' size='1'>created with <a href='http://quizfarm.com'>QuizFarm.com</a></font></table>Gattinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06636525277807715146noreply@blogger.com8