maandag, februari 28
You've been a bad bad blogger
I am le sorry! Je suis très desolée! Pardonnez-moi! Lo siento! Het spijt me! Pardon me! Es speite mir!
Okay, so I don't know how to say sorry in German. But you read them Spanish and French ones! Hell yeah!
WWWWWeeeell.. the point was, I've been posting so little lately! I just don't know what to post.. and I tend to forget posting in the mornings.. so.. well.. yeah.. maybe some suggestions?
Oehh when I was in Friesland last week, I found some of my old Spanish schoolwork.. like a letter I wrote. I could understand everything still. But the speaking has already become very hard.. not the pronunciation, but remembering the words, and the verbs..
I think. Anyway. It's a bummer, I really liked learning it and knowing it a bit! Maybe I should really try to find a Spanish pen pal.. but.. nah.
I post more frequently on my Dutch blog by the way, but it is not really like this blog. And it's Dutch. I said that.
I had SUCH a weird dream tonight.. I don't know everything anymore.. but I know some guy in our band was dressed as a hiphop gangster, and then, at once, I was him, and wearing the stuff, but I was also just myself. And everybody was laughing and like "mm.. why are you wearing those hiphop gangster clothes?" Oooh I looked kind of like the Fresh Prince! Which.. isn't.. really gangster or anything.. but I just didn't know how to name it :) so, I looked Fresh Prince. And even our bandcoach came up to me to ask for an explaination of why I was wearing those clothes while I wasn't even black. But I just had to wear them because I was this other guy.
And then I went home, but there was a Tasmanian devil following me around (seriously, they have teeth and are horrible killers) and I probably had done something to upset him, and everybody knows (?...); once a Tasmanian devil selected you as it's prey, it will not let you go. So that damn evil creature was following me around through the whole city, the city of Workum now, of course (where I lived most part of my life, and where my dad still lives) and I was running like a madwoman trying to keep some distance between me and the evil thing, and hoping I'd get home in time. But then I ran across the street and family friend, was in a van they use to pick old people up and drive somewhere, but I ran across the street (and I said that already) and then she died in the van, because of me (because of the devil)(the Tasmanian one) and then I went home and I wanted to tell my mum, who was standing outside of my dad's old museum, with some of her friends, but she was crying because she knew it already. But then everybody wanted to know what I wanted to tell, which was, that I killed the person we know. And then one of my mothers friends turned into a friendly smiling Paul de Leeuw. Which was, of course, the end of my dream.
One of those dreams that don't make you feel fresh and full of energy when you wake up.
Well, SOOOO MANY WORDS IN ONE POST! I think it's time to stop. But at least there was something to read.
What's on zhe telly? I can't see it because of my belly.