True Story?

This is a story that my father once told me happened to a guy he knows. I don’t know whether it’s true or false, but it’s funny nonetheless. 

So, this man had two dogs, Doberman breed. They were identical, highly trained and very, very smart.  He loved them so much and considered them a part of his family.

One day, the guy decided to go on Summer vacation with his family, so he asked his neighbour to feed the dogs and give them water.

“You don’t have to enter my yard, just push these to bowls through this little gap in the fence and keep an eye on them.”

The first couple of days everything was fine.

But then, the neighbour noticed that only one dog keeps coming to eat, another was nowhere in sight.

So he calls the owner and tells him that. Poor man, worried to the bones, cuts his vacation short and returns with his family home only to find a spectacular sight: a thief tried to break into the house and succeeded, but when he tried to get out, the dogs blocked his exit. They kept him at the stairs for 3 days and 3 nights, taking shifts to eat and rest and growling whenever the thief thought to make a move.

The owner let the thief go, thinking that he was already punished enough.

Hats off to these dogs, they are f***ing amazing!


I didn’t choose the slug life. Slug life chose me.

It was about 4 years ago. I was getting ready for a night out with my friends. It was raining that day, but it was the perfect Summer night. The frogs were were jumping around my yard and it really didn’t bother me. I liked the noise they make and all that jumping. Funny little fellas, I tell you.

Anyway, I received a call from my friend that I should be on my way. I took my purse, stepped out and squished something with my foot. It was horrible. “It was a frog. I stepped on a frog,” I thought at that moment and felt sick. I broke its bones, I killed an innocent living being. And it was utterly disgusting.

From that point onwards, my night out was a real disaster, because I kept remembering that accident. Although I was sad because a life has ended, I was much more grossed out. It was a very horrible sound. Everybody else laughed because of how clumsy I am. They’d know otherwise if it happened to them.

Since the night didn’t get better, I took off. When I was in front of my house, I thought it was time to face the consequences. I took my phone to light the victim and was actually surprised. It wasn’t a frog. It was a f***ing slug!

I hate slugs. They are gross. And then my brother came home and said: “Oh, I saw immediately that you stepped on a slug, but I didn’t tell you when I saw you in town because I wanted you to suffer.”

Talk about brotherly love.

Cooking lessons (All bad things come in pair)

I haven’t had this much laugh in ages. I really mean it. Yeah, I know you have no idea what happened. In order to enlighten you, I have to tell you everything that happened today.

Me and my brother are alone in house. My parents are at the country. So, the main question was – what were we going to eat? No money, rain making us stay at home, we were in interesting situation. Also we were lazy to cook anything.

For hours we were starving and finally decided to start cooking. Luckily for me, I knew how to cook. My brother isn’t that lucky. And you will see why.
In our house, we only had some cheese, eggs and bread. Everyone sees a perfect meal out of it, and so did we. After a brief meeting, on which we disagreed on the spice part, we decided that we should cook our meals separately. I was the first one.

A little cheese, curry, chili sauce and eggs – I made a nice warm dinner that was very delicious. Yes, I am proud of myself. Anyway, I also offered to my brother that I cook him dinner, but he refused it, saying “you can’t cook it the way I want it.” That is how trouble started.

I was already hungry, so I was eating and watching him cook. He put the cheese in the pan and looked around for oil. The next comment I remember was: “I don’t remember that oil is so liquid.” Then I realized what he did. And I think my brother did, too. He put vinegar instead of oil. Dear, God! I do remember the smell of fried vinegar!

Anyway, after ruining the first try, he started again. This time I was slightly more amused and offered to cook dinner, again. He refused. Double Trouble. 🙂

He put the cheese, and then eggs and then the spices came. One in particular – rosemary. What my brother didn’t know is that the bottle has a hole at the top, not those little holes. So I was watching him put half of the bottle into his meal. We were silent for good ten seconds before I choked on my food and he miserably slumped in defeat. Cooking 1 – my brother 0.

At the end he did make a good meal (actually, I don’t know, he ate alone), and provided me a good laugh that you can also have now. He is a lousy cook. Poor guy…

How do you call a sound that roster makes?

One question: How do you call that sound that rooster makes? Is it really Cock-a-doodle-doo? Really? Come on! In my language it sounds more serious. And yet, maybe because we live on the ruins of an Empire that was saved by couple of geese (heheh, this is also funny) and used peacocks like an alarm for intruders (peacock is also funny). Yes, I meant The-Biggest-Most Badass-Brutal-And- Conquering-Roman Empire. We were part of it. Sort of. We helped ruin it. Yeah… It was fun…

Anyway, my story has nothing to do with peacocks (hehehe, peacocks), geese (God, who makes up these words?) and Roman-I-Secretly-Wish-It-Was-Galactic-Empire. It is actually about a rooster, German shepherd and my grandmother.

Note: I need to clear some things right now. My grandmother lives at the country. Alone. She has a couple of goats, chickens and this rooster. Also we bought her a German shepherd that anything but fearsome. It chickens out a lot. So she has only chickens and goats. And a rooster.

So the story goes like this: It was a day after Easter and… F**k this! Wait, let me start from the beginning. Me and my brother were spending Easter with my grandmother. And she has that rooster. It’s pretty much domesticated. You can pet it, play with it, it follows you everywhere. To me, that is interesting, but not to my grandmother. You see, every time she goes to feed the goats, that rooster goes inside the stables and makes that sound that roosters make (I can’t write it once more, because I will die of laughter). The thing is, that building resonates. A lot. And that drives my grandmother insane. So, for Easter, while the whole family was enjoying the resurrection of Christ, my grandmother bursts into the room holding our rooster by its legs and demanding that my father takes the ax and kills the rooster. She had it enough.

Of course, my father, being that my grandma is his mother-in-law, has no option of saying no. But I do. I started protesting, like, “No, you can’t kill that poor animal! Look at him, Dad, he is so cute! You are a monster!” Didn’t help at all. So he places him on the stamp and raises the ax… And then…

My mother yells out of the kitchen: “I am NOT cleaning that mess up!” That was the most hilarious scene I saw that day. My father lowers the ax and puts the rooster in a “cage” (it is the basket from the freezer we are not using anymore) and puts the stamp over the “cage”. After that, my parents return to the city, and we are left with our grandmother. Now, I already said that it is Easter, and that is the only day in year I visit the rest of the family. So we go around the country and eat candies and all stuff (I bet you are jealous right now). And I have to say, while we were out there, having fun, eating candies and chocolate (I don’t care if you are jealous, you probably are), our dog, the famous German shepherd, had fun on its own.

We don’t know what happened, only thing we know is that, when we came home, we saw the “cage” lying on the floor, stump far away from there and a couple of feathers. Yes, our dog attacked the poor rooster. My grandmother was pissed of. Although she said that she hates that animal, she actually likes it. So ,she starts cursing the dog on Serbian, Romanian and French language (I didn’t know she knew how to do it) and calls a vet to kill our dog. I never saw her so furious in my life. We know she needs to cool down so we send her to the goats and tell her we will take care of it. While she is cooling off, we call our parents and tell my Dad that we have to take the dog to the city. Not good… And then our grandmother bursts in (second time that day) and tells us that the rooster is alive. He is in the stables, a little distressed, but fine. Yay!

She returns to the stables and me and my brother go outside to enjoy the beautiful day. Oh, God, this is the funniest part of the story…

We hear the rooster making that sound from the stables the loudest he can make it, and our grandmother runs out of the stables cursing again, half deaf from it. She calls our neighbor to come over tomorrow and kill the f-ing rooster. There is no need to say my brother and me had a straight face for good ten seconds before we started laughing.

The conclusion: The rooster is fine, dog is fine, everyone is happy, except my grandmother. 🙂

Best. Easter. Ever.

A story of how I got my grandma drunk

It was 3 years ago, on my 18th birthday. It was a big day for me, because I was becoming an adult. Actually, I couldn’t less care, but my parents decided to celebrate, and by celebration I mean to open a bottle of vine and call some friends over for drink. I was not invited.

Anyway, the person who was most happy was my grandma. I am her favorite grandchild and seeing me all grown up was the biggest joy of her life. She was laughing and talking with everyone (she doesn’t do that at all), and she even poured herself a glass of wine.

And that’s when the gears in my head started moving. She doesn’t drink. Never. Maybe, if I… But no, that would be too much. And then I caught a look from my father and I realized we were thinking the same.

We had a bottle of cherry liqueur somewhere in-house. She wouldn’t know the difference, and, truth to be told, we really wanted to see her drunk once in her life. So, we found the bottle, my father opened it (he made me swear I would never tell this mom) and gave me a glass.

Everything else was a piece of cake. I went to my grandma, gave her the drink and asked her to drink with me. She realized it is not wine, but, instead of throwing it away, she drank it. And asked for more.

And that’s when everything became hilarious. She was fast. Like really, really, fast. Apparently alcohol gave her energy. She was also talking nonsense and her nose and ears were so red…

My father and me were laughing so hard, while my mother was furious. She came to us and asked: “I know it was you two who made her drunk. I just want to know what you gave her.”

There was no need for answer. She saw an empty bottle of liqueur (we drank the rest so I was pretty much drunk at that point, but my father, being old school, was completely sober. I bet he was laughing at me, too), and became pale instantly. One thing is a drunk grandmother, but, much worse is a grandmother with hangover.

And there was a hell of a hangover. I didn’t have it, and my father told me he is proud of me for that (truth, I never had a hangover, but I had “black-out” periods in my life), but my grandma, being cranky (just because she is old) everyday, was now double cranky. So, after one of better days, came one of the worst days in my life. We couldn’t yell, we prayed that our dogs won’t bark, no loud music. I remember our neighbor coming to check on us because she thought someone died (she was spying on us).

Anyway, my mother decided not to punish us (she wanted to punish grandma too, because she told her to never, ever take drinks from my hand), because grandma’s hangover was the best punishment ever.

(She never drank in her life, so of course she never had a hangover. It was a different time back then and she blamed me for headache. I think she will never forgive me for that, and for missing out my birthday – she became sleepy very early and hid in the bedroom.)

So, the lesson of the story is: under no circumstances, DO NOT get your grandmother drunk. Old people have bad hangovers. For them, and for you.

For the love of God, do it yourself!

So, do you remember when I talked about the problem with my computer? Well, it turns out I finally had enough. It is time to fix my computer. After a cup of coffee and after I come back from a walk and… You see where I’m getting at.

Just for you, readers, here comes a catch – I am one of those do-it-yourself person. Really! Who would’ve guess.

And that’s how I, instead of going to Asus computer service, decided to let my boyfriend open the computer to see what was the cause of that noise. Okay, we knew it was the fan, but we wanted to see how big was that problem.

If there was some spectator he would’ve laughed at the sight of the two of us. First, we went through with this idea of opening up my computer ourselves. Second, that isn’t an easy task (he already did such a thing. My boyfriend once opened his laptop which was also Asus, but it only had 8 screws. After that h and his roommate opened the menacing HP laptop which,  in order to clean it, required even it’s screen to dimsantle! Mine is somewhere in the middle). Third, it required a high concentration level and a lot of memory (you need to remember all of the screw and their places).

Oh, and the fourth was the biggest problem. That was me. You see, I look at my computer like it is a part of me, so, when someone attempts to fix something (even to wipe the dust from screen), I become all panicky. Now, imagine how I felt when I saw my baby computer turned into a big rubble of parts. I elt like I was undergoing a surgery!

My boyfriend wanted to kill me. He needed help and I couldn’t look at my poor computer. And when I was forcing myself to look and help, I was screaming and panicky. That was making him nervous and his hands would start to shake, then he would stop to calm himself and after a couple of minutes, he would continue to open it.

The worst parts were when he would use some force to detach something (like keyboard. I almost started crying and screaming: “Leave it alone! You’ll break it!”). He had to take keyboard, than a plate bellow that in order to get to the core of the problem. And that was not the end.

We saw the problem. It was the fan that was cooling whole system. But, also, that thing was stuck to the motherboard and we (at first) didn’t see a way to check on it.

But he just wouldn’t let go of it. He wanted to go to the end, no matter what (seriously, I think he would break that motherboard just so he could take a look at fan). And he succeeded. He performed something I would rate like a neurosurgery just so he could see the problem.

This is where the catch comes: the fan was a little dislocated so it was making a noise whenever the computer would heat up a little. We can’t fix it. Only thing I can do is waiting for it to stop working. And than I need to buy a new fan.

This looks like one of those surgeries when you open up a patient, see that there is no cure for the disease and just close him up. But the doctor delivers bad news to someone else. Me.

A zombie fly

About two days ago, in the evening, my boyfriend was napping and I was reading a book.  Soon I grew tired of reading and went to the bathroom to refresh myself. When I was done showering, I noticed a big and ugly fly wandering through he bathroom. I just let her out through the window.


It looked like this



Anyway, I thought that was the end. Until my boyfriends roommate came in and we noticed the fly again. It was the same one I let out! Anyway, We knew we can’t sleep until the fly is either kicked outside or dead. So we started hunting it, until, finally, the roommate didn’t hit it with the newspaper.


You can't kill a fly with internet. Use the newspaper instead.


We were looking now at the body of a dead fly, and thinking what to do with it. Finally, the guy just kicked her out of the room and went to finish it. And then, suddenly, the fly got up and flew away. What a perfect camouflage.

Anyway, we stopped thinking about it, but we all mentioned once in a while the resurrection of the fly. We were joking and thought it was over.

But, yesterday, the fly came back. Now it was me and my boyfriend who were chasing it through the room and trying to kill it. He hit it couple of times very hard, but it just kept rising from the dead. It was one creepy fly.

And last night, we were sick of it. So we just took the towel and started hunting it again, and once it fell, my boyfriend stomped on it. She was officially dead…

Or was it?

My cat is the best hunter ever!

About an hour ago my mother and me were in the kitchen making dinner. Usually, when we are working there, we let cats go in so they can eat.  Anyway, we sit there, meal is cooking and suddenly, I see something very strange: our fat, lazy cat with it’s eyes wide open doesn’t move and it’s  looking up.

We sat there for a minute or two watching it and then I tried to figure out what is it looking at. I took it in my arms to see better and my cat almost jumped from me to the wall. Until then, we thought the cat was looking at a shadow, or spider, but no. It was looking at our clock that was above the door.

We couldn’t believe it! This was the first cat whose pray was a clock! It climbed on the table and than just attacked the clock!

There is no need to tell that the hunt ended fairly poor. Cat and the clock ended on the floor, my father was furious and me and my mother laughed for a very long time.

Well, the first thing that happened after that was kicking the cat out of the house. Now, why did you do that, Dad? It’s not my cat’s fault that the clock is ticking.  Cat’s often do that, I guess. Anyway, it was the best experience I had with a cat.

Oh, and I managed to keep the cat inside, but my parents don’t let it into the kitchen anymore.

Video games and me – pt. 4

I decided to find one good MMORPG to download and play with my boyfriend. I guess this is goodbye, my friends.  We won’t see each other for a very long time. Nah, I’m just joking! Why the Hell would I do that? It’s not like I had good experience in the past. But, I have to try it because it’s the only kind of game that I haven’t played.

As a true Star Wars fan, my first option for a good game was “The Old Republic”, but, sadly, my computer can’t support it. It’s a business one and  not really into games. Too bad. Oh, not to mention that I don’t have that much money to spend it on monthly fees.

And that is why I’m downloading Runes Of Magic (recommended by a friend). It’s free and I’m rather curious about this whole project. Also, I wonder if I’ll get addicted.

Nothing in my life ever got me addicted to anything. I do what I want, when I want. That is why I really doubt about this whole thing with addiction (but you never know).

Okay, I have a question for you to think about it while I play this game: Is playing video games bad? Do video games make our youngsters violent? I know many violent people that weren’t playing video games, but maybe there is some kind of connection. Is it about knowing the difference between imagination and reality? Where does one stop and another begins?

What to choose?

This morning, I got up late. My mother was the only one in house and she was waiting for me. She needs something, that I know. What I don’t know is, what she needs.

My Mother: “Good morning.”

Me: (unintelligible mumbling)

Mother: “Do you want some coffee?”

(I nod and sit in the chair still sleepy. Mom soon comes out of the kitchen carrying two cups of coffee.)

Me: “Okay, what do you need?”

Mother: “Excuse me? “

Me: “I slept through whole morning and you don’t say a word about it. Instead, you made us coffee. What do you need?”

Mother:  “Well, you know these new profiles on Facebook? I have trouble with them. They are quite complex.”

Me: “You’ve got to be kidding me…” (I turn on my computer and connect, ignoring her completely)

Mother: “Oh, just so you know, I found so fun groups on Facebook. About pets and animals. Problem is, I have no time for computers and internet when you all are here. I’m planning to buy a computer for myself.”

Me: “Okay, that is good. I agree that we need a new computer, but, are you sure we don’t need money for something else?”

Mother: “I’m quite sure, yes.”

Me: “Okay, what about a dishwasher? I bet it is really boring to wash all the dishes?”

Mother: “Actually, I don’t need it. What would I for the time dishes are being washed? This way, I wash them quickly, and then sit on Facebook after that.”

Me: “Are you saying you want a computer instead of dishwasher, even if it would ease you up work around the house?”

Mother: “Exactly.”

Me: “This conversation is pure gold. I need to remember it.”

Mother: “Don’t you dare put it on the blog, Missy!”

Me: “To late. You should have thought about it before you said those things.”

Mother: “You can be so mean sometimes. Just like your father.”

Me: “Yeah…about Facebook, what do you need?”

Mother: “Well, there is a thing I don’t understand…”

Well, that’s it. I just wanted to share this conversation with you. It’s New year soon, and I don’t want to be here more than I have to. Anyway, I would also like to make a New year resolution:

I promise I will try my best that my blog succeeds. I will, write as often as I can.

See you next year. Be good, nice and happy. I wish you everything, but above all, love. I need to go now and spend this time with my family and boyfriend.

Happy New year!!!