Lifestyle, okay ?

This article was originally published in 2012, in Romanian, as Lifestyle, bine ? It is as relevant today as it was five years ago. This is not an exceptional, but rather an universal situation, on Trilema. Go forth ye and search, anywhere else, where can such a wonder be found that the words once written, once read, stand up for themselves, for ever ? What "stats" panel is this measure party of ?

Ea : i got you some promising balsamic imo btw. pretty much the only part of that shopping trip that went right ;p
Eu : worth risking your butt ovar ?
Ea : sure why not. if you're pleased with the result it's worth it.
Eu : nice way to live imo.
Ea : :)

The girl announces she's bought me vinegar. The thing with vinegar is that it's rather difficult to discern proper merchandise among the ocean of shitty fakes upon which it driftsⁱ. That this or that two bit neighbourhood stores can't seem to distinguish the authentic from the counterfeit I could yet understand, Romanians are well behind the culture of that Europe they pretend themselves a part of. But that in supermarkets pretentious abandoned warehouses you can admire, on the same shelf, elbowing each other, Modena vinegar and water used to wash pipes mixed with synthetic acid baths seems to my eye pathetic.

For a poor girl, borne and raised in the balsamic atmosphere of Latin America and landed through the vicissitudes of fate among some morose fellows in a part of the world where it snows it's all the more difficult. Europe, that incomprehensible alternate world in which people fought with cannons over a piece of land the size of a dinner table.

On the other hand a while ago, maybe two or three months hence, I had her strip and girded her ass in a coupla harsh welts over buying I don't recall what scandalous pigwash, maybe "butter" that was in fact "spreadable mix of vegetable fats" yet sold without any compunction in the same white paper packaging adorned with thick blue font that has been the mantle of proper butter in this country for many decades so as to confuse old ladies and foreigners or such. Otherwise she's very careful and generally sagacious with the košĭnicaⁱⁱ, but the issue is that sometimes the burden doth exceed objective oxen strength.

As can be seen on plain display, that happenstance deters no-one, or at the very least it doth not deter good quality sluts, a circumstance that opens the way to some perhaps instructive reflections. So, my dear female readers, how would it be if coming home where it is found you didn't buy what you were supposed to buy you quit your clothing nicely and get a few fresh, burning cane welts on your ever-so-precious butt ? How'd that go, how would you feel ?

Were it dehumanizing, shall we say ? What is this humanity in final examination, the ability to do wrong ? Are children dehumanized in school, is that what's occuring when the authority mouthpiece insists they "come to their senses", dehumanization ? Or is it not the case there, just here, is this dehumanization a sort of "discrimination"ⁱⁱⁱ, something perfectly acceptable for just as long as we're applying it to the others, and entirely "inappropriate" should the others apply it to ourselves ?

Were it sad, such life ? What's better I wonder, for the ass to burn right after doing wrong, or for that thing inside the headlet^iv to keep on whispering in the ear, that you're not doing what you should and that you're wasting your time and missed your chances and etc ? What's preferable, to do something dumb and be punished for it or to do something dumb and to find yourself unable to ever escape the need to justify it and the effort to misrepresent it as not being dumb but "a choice" which is perhaps even "enabling" and its godmother sliding on thin ice^v ?

Stand these, some problems, to which there shall be had some answers. I am not proposing you necessarily give the same answers as the young lady quoted, or any certain other, lady or tramp, or young or old. Not the same answers necessarily as they would give, or as you imagine they'd give, or as they imagine they'd give. Stand these, some problems, upon which I propose you reflect, on the theory that thinking things through can't possibly hurt.

1. Romania, like all other colonies, is used and has been used for a while as the dumping ground of all that couldn't be sold in a proper country. [↩]
2. Here's your punishment for not having an equivalent for the Romanian cosnita : you get the Croatian equivalent instead. Ha-HA!

   It's that weaved basket used to go shopping or else to take the worked product of home industry to the picnic, that Victorian maidenslave market. You realise that's what the picnic was for, yes ? Early taste of "what'd it be like if you took this one cow home, at least at first", a marriage trial run. [↩]

3. I mock the Italians because I've the moral high ground, but otherwise the populace of Romania takes the crown for discrimination in the EU. [↩]
4. All languages require a diminutive for the head, so one such as I can properly express the inferiority of one such as them in this context. [↩]
5. It's a Romanian idiomatic, nobody knows what it means. Though most can guess. [↩]