Above : colorful, personable bird minding its birdy business.
Below : inquiring bird wishes to know -- had you said something ?
Above : u sure ?
Below : the attention continues. Are you quite sure you hadn't said anything ? Hm ? HMMM ?
Above : bimbo in heels.
Below : tigancusa, spune drept...
The shots of slut trying out clothes, completely naked in the middle of the store didn't, unfortunately, come out -- at least in part because I got a little perturbed. I suspect I'm not that great of a camera guy after all. It was quite lulzy to watch the even more perturbed attendant girlsi, however. Not to mention the customers, I don't think anything bothers a sexually competitive female quite like a nude, better model in her vision field. They were there to buy sexy clothes to hide behind, god damn it, what is this insult to sense, sanity and all that's holy!
Above : as the man said, "asciilifeform: 'everybody' used copious heapisms, pointerisms, 2ndarystackisms, etc. supposedly somewhere some avionics people didnt, but naturally never bothered to publish." Any questions ?
Below : Lion's brewery. Very slow if polite and well meaning service -- zee Germanz understaff something scandalous. Are you aware they even expect me to bag my own groceries, and occasionally wait my own table ?!
Above : schmuck bank. Because aren't they all ?
Below : biergarten interior. Low on human capital, yes, especially in terms of headcount. Plenty of capital goods, however. It's a trade-off.ii
Above : hall.
Below : Hahahall!
Above : Sendlinger Tor.
Below : Exterior of st. Johann Nepomuk, a private church. Or what's left of it, at any rate.
Above as below : interiors from same.
Above : gilt remembrance. Nostalgia, what can you do.
Below : madchen. Can you believe this is how they imagine their (very healthy) girlies look ?
Above (and below) : rat haus. Pai nu ?
Above : ginger bread house arrangement.
Below : Belvedere x5.
Above : even more of the same. There's a lot, what can I tell you!iii
Below : even more of that other same. Sucks to be them, seriously now.
Above : achtung, incorrectness ahead.iv
Below : a most perfect helmet.
Above : girls among a small quantity of luggage.v Because when Lufthansa drops the ball, my lordship orders a chauffeur over, what. I can do things. Specifically -- whatever the fuck it is I want to do.
Below : omfg no. The moment realisation of what one's done sets in.
Above : I bought myself a very old school looking phone, because the 1990s are forever! There's nothing quite as gilt as reminiscence, you know ? And if you're gonna do it, might as well do it right, so...vi
Below : night time in Eastern Europe.
Above : day time in Eastern Europe.
Below : Whore Street style.
Above : CNC mill, close to a century old by now.
Below : utterly, utterly dominating the scene.vii Like always since forever.
- Though they didn't say anything to me, they did a lot of hushed back and forth among themselves as to how the dressing rooms are right there and other meaningful glancing. In fairness, the younger ones took it a lot better, a rather warm-ish "lucky her" transparent camaraderie dominating their emotional... footprint, let's say. Not so for the older ones, shooting poisonous glances everywhich way I wasn't happening to right then be looking.
Why can't shriveled up old cunts be happy for the achievements in sluttery of their junior, better equivalents ? Hm ? HMM ? [↩]
- Notwithstanding the cab drivers utterly fucking love me (not just in Munich -- everywhere!), the cabs are something else. I've not seen anything besides the most comfortable of BMWs and Mercs, these splendiferous boats easily putting a Lincoln to shame. The drivers are all Turkish, Kurdish, Indian, whatever shade of brown, I did not run into a single local in dozens of tries. [↩]
- Actually, here's something I could tell you : the whole elevator affair involved an encounter with a Florida couple. Fifty-something, the age poor people from our colonies start showing back home. The (quite intellectually lively) male half warned me as I was trying to get into the elevator that unless I already have tickets, that's not the way to buying them (no doubt his quite healthy reaction to the frustrating arrangements the local tards had in place for the tourists' convenience). I wondered outloud where that might be then, and he proferred something about an information center somewhere.
"Ah, that's here around the corner, to the left" I produced, having just passed the damned thing. He broke out an ode to the virtues of cooperation and the personal enjoyment he takes in such, we bought our tickets, and we returned, while establishing the (apparently fundamental) point of interest for all tourists : that they're from Florida, and I'm from Romania. At this juncture the female (and quite pointedly lesser) half decided the optimal course would be to observe my English is very good! So I thanked her, and returned the compliment : so is hers. The guy laughed his ass off, while the moron he for some reason decided to (immorally) support in her utterly ridiculous (not to mention entirely spurious) misrepresentations of the self and the world surroundant kept blathering about how impressed she is, as fucking if anyone either asked or cared.
You're not beating them nearly enough, seriously now. Is there to be absolutely no limit to menopausal female impudence ? [↩]
- Speaking of incorrectness : we're stopped at this tiny Italian coffee house downtown, and I proceed to instruct my slavegirls in the wonders of mechanics, basic mechanisms, all that jazz. Just as I'm about done with the fulcrum and getting right and proper into a discussion of leverage, trade-offs etcetera, this older local woman asks me (in English) whether I'm talking for two people or for everyone.
Honestly my first pass interpretation was that she correctly evaluated her relative position in the world, and was most humbly begging to be allowed among the harem slaves, to complete her sad, smoldering debrispile of a life. To feel, if even for a brief moment, the warmth and glory of complete womanhood.
However, that's entirely not what she was trying to say, notwithstanding it was quite exactly her situation. Instead, the retard was bothered by... well, formally by my speaking too loud, but quite transparently the problem behind was that the sluts were paying attention to me. How is this possible, how can this be, that some young girls be the immediate property of a young[er] male, when her pantsuit goddess told her they all should as well as are her own, to trade as she herself seems fit ? How dare I not rent my cunt from her, but own it outright, and entirely cut her out of the loop ?! As a christian mother etc she doth must protest!!!
So I politely apologized but otherwise completely ignored her (a feat made all the easier by her own internal overwhelm) ; then ten or fiftreen minutes later as I was headed towards the bathroom along with the bimbo I inquired quite loudly where the dangerous peacekeeper might be seated ? Bimbo retorted that the old woman was transparently attention whoring (duh), to which I explained it's fucking ridiculous to imagine you're going to police the use of commercial facilities by people who order such a pile of coffees, cakes, icecreams etcetera double tables can't accomodate them, especially without as much as paying for a cup of coffee. The place exists to turn a profit, after all, not to satisfy the world expectations of the poor.
Just as I finished loudly pronouncing the foregoing, we run into the would-be sherrif of this world and its worldy affairs, coming out of the very bathroom in question! So I tip my hat while the bimbo chuckles and we go right past her. Then once we're done we return to our table, share the amusement, then finish, pay, and leave. Just as we're getting back out into the street I order the girls to squat, which they do. I don't recall exactly why, we were talking about asses, kardashians, whatever. Why the hell not ? But just as their fabulous asses are heel-height from the ground, a very steamed self-appointed public space policewoman passes us huffingly.
I'm pretty sure she was waiting for us to get out, weaving in her overwhelmed brainbox who knows what plaintive complaint -- except she wasn't quite ready for the actual existence of the actual sluts. Such as they are, complete, whole. Not as she imagines them to be.
La tati ni-i greu, ce sa mai. Doar ca la unii ni-i greu curu', iar la altii capu'. Cum ar fi de exemplu cazul meu : mie mi-i greu capu' pulii. [↩]
- Travel agent over in Olympia-Enkaufszentrum, this very pleasant adult woman possessed of perfectly fine English was taken aback by my luxuriously voluminous luggage train ; "I'm travelling with women, whadda ya want" I offered. She didn't buy it for one second, "One look at you and I'm sure it's all your suits and your shoes and whatnot, the poor girls have maybe one rag each". "Or maybe a single rag together, they take turns wearing it". She quite liked the idea.
Come to think of it, so do I. [↩]
- Ce fund fain are totusi curva... ca-n basme. [↩]
- Yes, the black's see through in front. Yes, the yellow's a Sponge Bob Square Pants pijama, worn with 7 inch stardust pleasers.
Ready to throw down ? Because anytime, just let me know,. [↩]