Fairytale gone bad? - Not so much

If only life where a fairytale and all men were like Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribean my life would be a happy place. We would live on a rainbow and at the end instead of gold we would find endless fields of milk and Oreo's. Milk and Oreo's because you don't really need gold, just food in order to survive. I am a practical sort of girl that way.

From Tasty Paintings: http://tastypaintings.blogspot.de/2011/04/cupcakes-creativity-art.html

If life was a fairytale I would not have to get up at 8 am on a Saturday morning after only two hours of sleep.

If life was a fairytale, my fairytale, everyone I loved would always be close to me. Of course I would also have a cute little white winged pony called Tinkerbelle and I would never have to clean up after him. 

Heck if life was a fairytale I would have my very own fairy godmother, who would love me so much, that she would grand any wish I had.

While my life is obviously no fairytale (there is no one fulfilling my wishes with magic wands and a pony, winged or otherwise is pretty much out of the question; even Oreo’s are taboo because I forbade myself from eating bought sweets), there are some occasions that make you wonder. Moments in which a person you have never had much to do with takes the time at 3 am to listen your troubles and actually goes through the effort to find a plausible solution with you even though they don't have to. It's when someone you barely know gives you a hug just because you need one right now. It's also a friend who, when you are alone on the street at 4.30 am and are afraid of walking the darkest part of your road on your own, suddenly shows up out of nowhere to walk with you, especially if you don't want to be alone right then.

It's moments like this that sometimes make me believe that maybe my life could be a fairytale after all.

Brazil 101: Round Four

If one of your closest friends wants to hook up with the guy you have been sort of staying/not staying (how would I know I don't know the correct definition) it makes you feel crappy. Especially if you realize how much you would actually like to try for something more.
If you are not sure if they have actually hooked up it makes you feel like shit.
Believe me! I know. I am there right now.

For women - though useful information might also be found in here for men

Today I received this email (you can find the English translation below, which I hope is more or less accurate. I am better at writing free than doing translations.) and I thought I would share it with you:

Für Frauen:

Ich lese keine Anleitungen. Ich drücke Knöpfe bis es klappt :-)

Ich brauche keinen Alkohol um peinlich zu sein. Das krieg ich auch so hin!

Wenn ich ein Vogel wäre, wüßte ich ganz genau, wen ich als Erstes anscheißen würde!

Ich bin nicht zickig, ich bin "emotionsflexibel"

Die 3 schönsten Worte der Welt? "Ich geh shoppen" :-)

Ich habe keine Macken! Das sind Special Effects!

Frauen müssen wie FRAUEN aussehen und nicht wie tapezierte Knochen!

Vergeben und vergessen?  Ich bin weder Jesus noch habe ich Alzheimer.

Wir Frauen sind Engel und wenn man uns die Flügel bricht, fliegen wir weiter - auf einem Besen!

Wir sind ja schließlich flexible.

Das ist kein Speck! Das ist erotische Nutzfläche!

Als Gott die Männer schuf, versprach er, dass ideale Männer an jeder Ecke zu finden seien werden..... und dann machte er die Erde rund.

Auf meinen Grabstein soll stehen:  "Guck nich so doof, ich läge jetzt auch lieber am Strand."

I don’t read instructions. I press buttons until it works.

I don’t need alcohol to be embarrassing. I manage to be without.

If I were a bird I know exactly who I would poop on first.

I am not bitchy. I am emotionally flexible.

The three most beautiful words in the world? „Let’s go shopping.“
I don’t have quirks! Those are special effects!

Women should look like WOMEN and not like bones with decoration.

Forgive and forget? I am neither Jesus nor do I suffer from Alzheimer’s disease.

Women are angels and if you break our wrings we continue flying on a broom.

…We are flexible after all…

It’s not fat. It’s erotically usable surface.

When god made men he promised there would be ideal guys around every corner…and then he made the world round.

On my tombstone it shall say: “Take that stupid look off your face, don’t you think I would prefer lying on the beach right now?”

Well, I guess we women are just one of kind.

diamonds, seriously people!?

Whoever came up with this 'Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.' crap had no idea about women. This of course suggests that it was a man. Probably one who worked in advertisement, or one who cared more about poetic phrases than spending one second of his self-centered life thinking about what really matters to a woman. For a woman‘s best friends are never diamonds.
They are her handbag, for it carries all her important stuff and her shoes, because they carry her to all the important places.
How could diamonds ever compete with that?
Not that I don't like sparkles. What girl doesn't!? They look pretty and if you don't want them anymore they make good cash, too. It’s just that they come in a distant third to my two besties.
Recently I read an article in which was stated that there are basically two types of women when it comes to handbags:
One is the type who buys one handbag and carries that particular bag with her every day. My mom is that type. She has been carrying the same bag for at least a year. It feels like at least five to me. She never changes it, never takes anything out of it. In the morning she just grabs it and is out of the house. I was forcefully reminded of this when it took about 6 months for her to use the bag I sewed for her once! It was a really pretty bag, too. I had to practically through a fit to get her to use it! (No, my feelings were not hurt by her behaviour. That ominous piercing feeling in my chest must have come from eating too much ice cream... cough, cough.)
The second type of woman owns several handbags and changes them frequently. 
I definitely belong to the second category. Not that I don't see the benefit of knowing all your things are in the same spot all the time, but I love choosing between different bags! This too, might explain why I love sewing bags. This weekend I finally finish my sister’s b-day present. It's way late of course, but whatever. I also nearly broke the sewing machine when I tried to sew on the straps... I had to take the whole thing apart and put it back together to disentangle the stupid fabric from the needle. Even thinking of it now makes me a little mad. 
Also I finished another present-bag and broke about five needles while sewing on those straps.
At least I got to go to the fabric market a few weeks ago, where I bought THE cutest wax fabric! It goes without saying (though I will tell you anyway) that I just had to sew myself a new bag from this, too!

I also finished a pillow that lay half finished at my mom's place for months. Furthermore I started another project. Whether it will be one of those that I never finish (there are many of those) remains to be seen. 
I also finished a little pouch for my hygiene articles aka mainly my tampons. 
I have this annoying habit of having all kind of stuff flying around freely and unbound inside of my bag. The problem with this is that sometimes when I take something out, one or the other freeloader hitches a ride and ceremoniously makes an appearance at the most inconvenient moment. Some people might not mind, but I find it awfully embarrassing when strangers get to see my tampons unused as they might be. It was obvious to me that something needed to be done about this.

In any case this was a very productive weekend.