Avondland
Well-known member
Aha, het is ne chateau. Dan zal het wel goed zijn.
Je glimlach van vandaag
- Onderwerp starter BlackOccult
- Startdatum
Cattadelic
Banned
ugar
Well-known member
Alsof ik ooit op anderen zou neerkijken, en meer nog, omdat ze zogezegd onfatsoenlijk gekleed zijn of frigoboxen zouden meenemen op verlof. Uiterlijk vertoon is aan mij helemaal niet besteed. Ik ben nog nooit in Knokke geweest, en zal er ook nooit komen waarschijnlijk.Gij zijt ook van Knokke ugar?
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GETHEZ
Well-known member
Squidward
Well-known member
Dit is leefbaar. Hij heeft er een tijd op gestaan om mij Mother te noemen, ik voelde mij in The Omen.
Green Mamba
Well-known member
Net uit een vliegtuig gesprongen. Dat was wel kicken.
Op de trein, een moeder met 2 jonge kinderen die al haar handen vol had om haar gigantische fiets op de trein te manoeuvreren en dan nog af te rekenen had met haar kleine die zichzelf had vastgezet op het toilet en er niet meer uitgeraakte.
Hoorde je daar zo'n schril stemmetje vanop dat toilet wenen, en dan die moeder: "Simon, wenen gaat niet helpen. Probeer het nog eens."
ratelratelratel
NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Ik ben een slecht mens, maar die schreeuw kwam er uit als Simba die toekijkt terwijl zijn vader van een klif stort waardoor ik hardop moest lachen.
Hij is er uiteindelijk uitgeraakt, dus zo slecht voel ik me ook weer niet. Beeld je in als hij daar nooit meer uit was gekomen, hoe belabberd en schuldig ik me dan zou voelen met mijn leedvermaak.
Hoorde je daar zo'n schril stemmetje vanop dat toilet wenen, en dan die moeder: "Simon, wenen gaat niet helpen. Probeer het nog eens."
ratelratelratel
NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Ik ben een slecht mens, maar die schreeuw kwam er uit als Simba die toekijkt terwijl zijn vader van een klif stort waardoor ik hardop moest lachen.
Hij is er uiteindelijk uitgeraakt, dus zo slecht voel ik me ook weer niet. Beeld je in als hij daar nooit meer uit was gekomen, hoe belabberd en schuldig ik me dan zou voelen met mijn leedvermaak.
Tonerider
Well-known member
dat kan enkel met een streepje muziek:
Tijdloos
Active member
Ook al kunnen landen?
Green Mamba
Well-known member
Nee. In Landen zijn we niet geraakt. Dat is best nog wel een eindje van Spa.Ook al kunnen landen?
Tijdloos
Active member
Helaas! Je zou bijna kunnen zeggen dat je plannen in het water gevallen zijn...of gesprongen...
Green Mamba
Well-known member
Ik had ze bijna in de wind geslagen
Zalig, duosprong veronderstel ik?
Was het OK?
Green Mamba
Well-known member
playforfun91
Active member
Te vroeg juichen is een groot gevaar, maar kga het mij toch riskeren. Ziet er naar uit dat ik voor komend academiejaar eerste semster recht ga hebben op Vlaamse opleidingsverlof (100 uur, dus 3 weken en een beetje aan 30u/week) om in het tweede semester verder te gaan met uitkering van de RVA (tijdsonderbreking voltijds opleiding) en daarbovenop een aanmoedigingspremie van de Vlaamse overheid ... Ik voldoe aan de voorwaarden, werkgever is mondeling al grotendeels akkoord gegaan ... nu alles op papier nog en dan zal de glimlach compleet zijn. Na 3,5 jaar ploeteren (en 107 studiepunten verder) kan ik echt wel eens een normaler jaar gebruiken.
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Squidward
Well-known member
Omdat er geen thread is genre ‘ik ben niet aan het huilen, jij bent aan het huilen’: Fiona Apple zegt een paar concerten in Zuid-Amerika af voor haar hond die erg ziek is en de hele brief online is zo mooi, ik heb onze Golden prompt nog harder vastgepakt (met respect voor zijn autonomie #GeenMeTooHier)
Je moet het echt eens lezen
“It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.
Here's the thing.
I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.
She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.
She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.
She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.
Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.
She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.
She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.
The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.
She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.
Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.
I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.
She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.
I know that she's not sad about aging or dying.
Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.
But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.
I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.
Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.
But this decision is instant.
These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.
I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable and comforted and safe and important.
I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.
Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.
When she dies.
So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.
I'll be seeing you.
Love,
Fiona”
Je moet het echt eens lezen
“It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.
Here's the thing.
I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.
She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.
She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.
She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.
Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.
She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.
She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.
The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.
She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.
Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.
I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.
She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.
I know that she's not sad about aging or dying.
Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.
But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.
I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.
Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.
But this decision is instant.
These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.
I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable and comforted and safe and important.
I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.
Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.
When she dies.
So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.
I'll be seeing you.
Love,
Fiona”
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