Exams and I !

My Digs: My Go-to Lie

Hi guys!

BABBLE

Sorry for being MIA last week.

I didn't manage to write a blog post over the weekend because I was busy on the day that I usually do it and it seems that if I don't follow my routine, everything just falls apart ;) Do you also need some kind of a routine to follow so that you stay on top of things?

The following subject was supposed to be featured in the previous entry but I got too carried away with my uncool blazer obsession story and decided to wait till next time to post it. (Squeezing everything inwould have made the post superlong).

babble – paplanina (saying something in a quick, confused, excited or silly way)

MIA – nieobecna (missing in action)

to follow a routine – postępować zgodnie z wcześniejszymi przyzwyczajeniami (to do what you always do)

to fall apart – rozpadać się

be/ stay on top of something – mieć pod kontrolą (to be able to control a situation or deal with it)

to be featured – znajdować się, zostać załączonym, uwzględnionym (to be included)

an entry – wpis

to get carried away – dać się ponieść emocjom (to become so excited about something that you do not control what you say or do)

to squeeze something in – wcisnąć

DEFINITION

Today's another instalment of me messing around with the Google search engine. This time round, I got excited about the go-to expression, which is used when you refer to items (or abstract ideas) that you reach for

• as your first choice;

• automatically/ without thinking;
  
  
• when you are pressed for time and have no other option but your trusty solution.

an instalment – partia, odcinek (part, episode)

to mess around with – dłubać w czymś, grzebać w czymś (spend time doing various things that are not important, without any particular purpose or plan)

to refer to – wspominać (to talk about)

to reach for – sięgać po

I am pressed for time – brakuje mi czasu (I have little time)

trusty – wypróbowany (able to be trusted, especially because of having been owned and used for a long time)

EXAMPLES

My go-to dressis probably my little black dress (LBD). It's simple, classic and always goes with any colour of shoes and a lipstick.

LBD – mała czarna

My go-to lieis, “Oh I already promised Chris that I'd hang outwith him. Maybe we can meet up later in the night though.”

to hang out – to spend time with

When my hair is acting up or I simply don't want to be bothered with it, my 'go to' hairstyle is a braid pulled to one side hanging over my shoulder.

to act up – tu. nie chcą się układać (to behave badly)

be bothered with something – kłopotać się czymś, zajmować się czymś (to worry about something, take a special care of something)

a braid – warkocz

BRAID PULLED TO THE SIDE

My go to excuseis explosive diarrhoea. I usually add a few details like I have been on the toilet all day.

diarrhoea – biegunka

My go to cologneisPolo Black. I like to use anunscenteddeodorant with it.

unscented– bezzapachowy

Here is my go to pick-up line.It's not one of those cheesyones that will get youslapped. I have used it at least 10 times and it worked every single time: Hello, my friend over there said that I couldn't start a conversation with the most beautiful girl in the room. Can you help me out?

cheesy – tandetny, oklepany

at least  – przynajmniej

every single time – za każdym razem

that will get you slapped – spowoduje, że zostaniesz spoliczkowany

SOME SLAPPING ACTION

A: You look grumpy. What's up?

B: It's my go-to face.

grumpy – naburmuszony (easily annoyed and complaining)

MR GRUMPY

I'm continuing this Healthy Eatsseries by showing you my go-to breakfast:a delicious, fillingand healthy combination of yoghurt, cereal and berries.

healthy eats – zdrowe posiłki

filling – sycący (If food is filling, you feel full after you have eaten only a little of it)

My go to workout songis Fighter by Christina Aguilera. It's been on my list for over 5 years now and it STILLpumps me up!

a workout song – piosenka przy której ćwiczę

to pump me up – nakręcać (to make someone feel more excited)

When it comes to hot drinks in the winter, my go-to Starbucksorderis a tall decafsugar-free vanilla soy misto.

an order – zamówienie

decaf – bezkofeinowa

misto – kawa z mlekiem (Café au lait)

Hope you enjoyed.

See you in my next post :)

Karola

Southern Truck Love

Two Guest posts for the price of one!
 You can't live down south without mentioning the love of pick-up trucks

Truck-ed; A Love Story

By Paul Kidwell

There’s something about boys who become men, who become infatuated with trucks. Perhaps as the human genome is more fully studied and the advancing science is able to pinpoint just how people discern between “likes” and “dislikes” geneticists will attach a Y (for Y chromosome) on the back gate of the pick-up’s bed. Or maybe biblical scholars will uncover new information that details Adam’s “ride” that was a precursor to modern-day trucks with big wooden tires and parked at the edge of the Garden of Eden. I have no idea how, when and where we become smitten with these mechanical beasts, but for me it has been a lifelong love affair that until now went mostly unrequited.

We boys are notorious for our penchant for toys and while I have never fallen victim to that part of the male psyche that likes to accumulate gadgets, I must admit having a soft spot for shiny pick-up trucks. Not expensive, high-performance sports cars, but rather a big, old brute of a truck with which I will feel comfortable getting mud on the tires. I recall reading a survey that said the majority of men feel that what they drive is a reflection of their personality. Not sure if that’s correct. I am predictable in my maleness and fall victim to all the usual suspects; sports, women, county music and beer, but also wear bow ties, love to cook, and listen to opera. Is this the image of a hard-living, truck-driving man that popular culture has given us? Not sure, and yet I drive on undaunted and fully truck-ed.

The need to own and drive a truck is one of those primal male urges that women will never understand. And although I told my wife that this purchase was going to be for the benefit of our entire family (“think of all the room for the four of us and the stuff we can put in the back” – Ha!), she was on to me in a second and knew that this was one of those rare occasions in my life where I put myself first, and also knew that as long as the finances made sense she needed to let me have my way this one time. Smart woman; her.

When I think of trucks, for some reason I think of men from the southern states, driving along desolate Texas highways or back country roads. As an unabashed country & western music devotee I am well acquainted with how trucks have been romanticized in all those tender tear-jerkers sung by mostly male country singers – be they Southern gentleman or good ol’ country boys – that feature a guy and his truck. And although I drive my iron monster through Boston’s concrete canyons and along its mean streets, as opposed to dust-filled dirt paths or winding mountain passages, I am no less smitten with this love affair for trucks as the stereotypical raw-boned, Georgia teen-aged boy who occasionally borrows his Daddy’s truck for a special date. 

Despite my homage to the culture of country music and the pantheonic place the pick-up truck has taken within this genre, I’m afraid that I am more Tennessee Williams than Hank Williams; more Tom Wolfe than cowboy poet, but yet I embrace the same sensibility that draws these men to trucks. Maybe it’s their size and ability to accommodate a man my height – 6’ 5.” Or the personal transformation I feel when I climb atop over two tons of inert material and feel the horsepower roaring beneath me. I defy any man to not feeling a rise in testosterone when sitting above traffic in a pick-up (think General Patton addressing the troops straddling a Pershing tank as he gets them ready to roar into North Africa after a fleeing Rommel) as cars flit beneath your view like so many Lilliputians.

I think most men have this love affair with trucks – and I guess it’s why I finally gave into its four-wheel inertia – because it makes us feel; well, manly. Not the kind of knuckle-scraping, Neanderthal, “I can take anyone in this place, drink the most beer, and score the most chicks” manly, but that part of my brain that makes me feel rugged and powerful; while at the same time being pragmatic with a vehicle that enables me to haul ‘stuff” and drive in, out, and over danger. In polite society I rarely get the chance to embrace these heroic feelings. I’m like most guys out there who are tethered to wife, family and balanced checkbooks; and that’s the way it should be. But, driving my truck allows me this temporary getaway in a vehicle that has the heft and muscle to take me anywhere. Of course, where I am going in my truck is mostly to work, the mall, the grocery store, or to pick up my son from swim practice or my wife from work. But, if I wanted to drive off this road for just a moment and see life beyond those trees or imagine the verdant green of that field over the next hill, or carry something really, really important to people in need; well, I wouldn’t have to wish, “if only I had a truck.”

********************************************************************************

1954 Chevy Truck - Berkeley Clayton

My grandfather had a 1954 Chevy truck with a foot starter.  I have mentioned this truck in other writings for the G-Man. 

I learned how to drive this truck and along with the tractor, these were the first vehicles I can remember operating when I was a kid.  The truck had vacuum wipers on it and when it was raining and you had to accelerate the wipers would stop working.  That tended to cause problems especially in traffic.  It did not have a radio and it had a three on the column shift.  The bed in the back was made out of panels of wood laid between metal strips of some kind.  The wood in the truck was coated with creosote or something like that. Try getting that past the EPA today.  (Creosote was good stuff back then.  It would stop wood rot in its tracks. That is why railroad ties were coated with creosote back in the day.)

When you are 9 it takes a while to get coordinated enough to drive a standard transmission vehicle.  I finally learned how to do it and Granddaddy would let me drive to the garbage dump when we went.  That was so cool.  I loved to drive and still do.  When Granddaddy drove sometimes he would let us sit on the front fenders.  That was always fun unless it was freezing cold. I remember one time my brother and I were going to sit on the fenders when it was about 25 degrees outside.  Granddaddy said don’t do it, too cold.  Of course we knew better and did it anyway.  Needless to say after we had driven the ¼ mile we were both about to freeze to death.  We never did that again either.  Like I have said before, bought experience is the best. 

Granddaddy built some sides for this truck made out of 2x4’s that would sit on each side of the bed and behind the cab.  In the winter he would get George and Johnny Burney and they would take the axes and a power saw mounted on a rolling sort of wheelbarrow.  The saw ran on gas and you could cut the tree down and then cut it up in sections to split.  The blade would rotate and cut at whatever angle you wanted it to.  He also had what he called “overload springs” that he would put on the truck when it came time to get wood.  He would jack the rear end up, and then it was my job to go under and set the springs on the axle in the proper place. (Some more child endangerment) Once that was done sides went on and off they would go.  He would come back home with that truck hunkered down (look it up G-Man) having as much wood as you could get on it. 

He would stack that wood in the chicken yard as high or higher that your head and probably 40 feet long.  That was what they burned for heat all winter.  I carried a lot of it into the house with the help of my brother.  Two fireplaces and a wood stove suck the wood like it was going out of style. 
Eventually, my grandfather bought a 1965 Chevy truck.  It was dark green with a step side.  It has a metal bed, electric wipers, and an electric ignition.    No more problems in the rain.  My grandfather sold the 1954 truck to John Henry Godwin in Capitola and he drove it for years.  John Henry sold it to Buddy Russ and Buddy took the bed off of it and made a trailer out of it.  That truck bed was still at Buddy Russ’ house the last time I went to Capitola.   They don’t make vehicles like that anymore.   I wish I could have that truck now.  I would try to fix it up.  I know those old vehicles are worth a lot of money now if they are in good condition or have been restored.  Too bad all of us did not keep all of that stuff that our parents and grandparents collected over the years. 
I think back on all the stuff that my grandmother threw out over the years that I wish I had now.  That old truck is like that.   I would have used it to teach my kids how to drive a standard transmission. Everyone wants automatic transmission.   1954 Chevy truck….  a cool vehicle!!!


********************************************************************************
Thank you Paul and Berkeley. Not wanting to feel left out down here, I would have to show my own  truck and the progress being made. ~ Yankee

Before

after, with much work still to do

Writerella

Beware Negative Influences.

reinalaaman.blogspot.com

Cat ate pills !

Prevention is better than cure

Funny Dog an itch

Job requirement : True story !

Dogs funny medical check up

I'll get married tomorrow ! Getting panic attack - Dog

The cute dog

How to pass chemistry exam

The fact about toothpaste

Funny cat at kitchen

Dancing like Christopher Walken

Play as you read!!

Get up off the couch and dance! You can do it, you know you want to. Maybe not as good or bad as Mr. walken here..but as me mom use to say, in her best English accent "give it a go"


Why not even do yourself a bigger favor and do this dance at work, how about at a staff meeting or just in the hallway right outside of your bosses office? Studies commissioned by this Yankee show that 6 out of 9 will think about dancing like this while actually 0 - 9 will do it.................. Be the first!


It's pretty easy to let your inhibitions go in thought, but I bet the feeling of self pride and self confidence can be overwhelming when you do actually try this at home or work.


Why be scared? (well, maybe unless you really can't dance, but again, I give you Mr. Walken above)

“Failure defeats losers, failure inspires winners.” – Robert T. Kiyosaki


Now, not to make too much of the Walken video, but I watch it and say, why not? (Did JFK say that?) If you asked me to dance like this 10-15 years ago, I would calmly tell you to get out of my face with this nonsense. But as I am getting older, I drift towards the why not. I really don't give a (bad word here) what people think of it. Time makes you bolder (Now that's a line in a fleetwood mac song) 10-15 years ago, I would have been mortified of the thought!


I do have moments where I am in pretty stressful situations and my mind switches to visions like the walken dance video and somehow it soothes and put's me in a better mood. . Believe it or not, I am getting very close to actually performing a dance like this in real time, pretty soon. 


Hey! How about a Walken dance............

flash mob? ....


...Who's in?


Take all of the stress you have built up over the past while and let it go..freestyle. 


As for me, I don't fashion myself as a Fred Astaire type dancer..

... more like this guy..

But that wont stop me, because; it's more about the doing than it is about what you look like while doing. (humm..I may copyright that, shirts on e-bay soon) Sometimes you will find that getting out of your comfort zone and doing something totally outrageous is cathartic. 


Expecially when we get older, we tend to stay in a certain groove, not a dancing groove, but a groove, groove..you know what I mean..... BREAK OUT!!

whats wrong with being different  ?

Dance like nobody is watching..give it a go!

Story of My Life: Uncool Blazer Obsession

Hello!

I will take a wild guess and say that there are days when you probably think to yourself: “I'm cool. I'm wearing the right clothes. I smell good. For once, my hair isn't a mess and I'm in a good mood. I AM COOL!!!!!! 

 

Ok, my bad. Maybe it's just me and the Jersey Shore crew...

I'm just kidding. I want to share with you a story that made me feel like the opposite of cool – I felt like the biggest cornball on the planet!!!

to take a wild guess – zgadywać, powiedzieć nie mając żadnej pewności

for once – tym razem (used when something happens that does not usually happen)

in a good mood – w dobrym nastroju

my bad – przepraszam/ moja wina (my mistake, I'm to blame)

a crew – ekipa, zespół

a cornball – someone who is very corny – uncool

BLAZERS

For those of you who don't know me in real life – I've got this strange obsession with blazers. My blazer obsession is so big that I wear them almost everyday. I only skip days when it's freezing cold or blazing hot. On those days, I'm forced to replace my trustyblazer with a chunky sweater or a tank top respectively.

to skip – pomijać, opuszczać

trusty – wierna (owned and used for a long time)

chunky – gruby

respectively – odpowiednio

SHE'S WEARING A CHUNKY SWEATER

TANK TOP

If you need a further demonstration of my obsession, here it is. My friends and family often hear me say:

That's a nice outfit that you're wearing, but it would look so much better with a blazer.

This blazer would go great with the pants you bought last week.

Oh, River Island carries some nicely cut blazers.

I like the cut, but I hate the colour of this blazer, sorry.

Do you like my new blazer?

Whenever I have a bad day, I go and buy myself a new blazer.

I'm sure you get by now how I feel about blazers :)

to carry  – mieć w ofercie (to sell)

nicely cut – ładnie uszyta, o ładnym kroju

the cut – krój

you get by now – teraz już wiecie/ rozumiecie

Now for the exciting part. I teach a lovely family, almost all the members except for the dad. So I teach the mum and two boys in their early teens.

I was having a lesson with the mum the other day and we were discussing clothes and of course I just HAD TO bring up the subject ofblazers. So we talked about them briefly and then moved on to some other topic. It was just towards the end of our meeting when my student said:

I need to say one more thing about blazers. I have just one blazer, a blue one, but whenever I wear it, my sons tell me that I look like their English teacher.

My facial expression was probably priceless :D

to bring up the subject – poruszać temat (to start to talk about a particular subject)

briefly – pokrótce (for a short time)

towards the end of the meeting – pod koniec spotkania

facial expression – wyraz twarzy

priceless – bezcenny

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this small chunk of my life ;)

About the poll. As you can see, my whole family has already voted. If you want to help me out a bit and let me know which segments are your favourite, cast a vote today.

If you don't mind me asking, what are some of your uncool obsessions? Let me know in the comments below if you're not too embarrassed about them :)

a chunk – kawałek (a bit of something/ a part of something)

to cast a vote – oddać głos

Have a lovely weekend!

Karola

Babysitting !

Funny Marriage Symbol

We have a winner!

Congratulations to Cresta McGowan for winning our first annual - micro Noir writing contest!! She wrote a great passage!! 

Speech, speech ! 

Introducing Cresta: My full name is Cresta McGowan.  I am a high school English teacher in Clarksville, TN. I write short stories, essays, and I'm currently working on a YA novel. I have a blog I try to post on at least once a week between grading papers and reading (www.crestamcgowan.blogspot.com). I am currently working my way through Swamplandia!, one of the finalist for the Pulitzer this year. I'm married to a soldier and we have one son who regularly entertains me with profound thoughts and his own world of fantasy. I'm new to writing and hope to continue with it for years to come

Here is her winning entry.....

...the boss expects my report in the morning. I've ducked out two days already, but the blood trail will go cold if I suck down one more brew. I need time to think, to cast the shadows in another direction. 

It isn't entirely my fault. Why can't these dames stay home when the sun goes down? I can't resist a woman in a dress, drawn lines up her thighs; makes my mind race, my hands shake. 

The bartender is lookin' at me again and I don't like the looks of him. I may just tell him to go to hell, but - hey, well, look at you.

"I'm Betty," the lady said. 

"Why, yes. You are..."

"It's a cool night out there, sure could use a drink."

"Why, yes. You could. Bartender, a whiskey sour and keep em' coming."

Her laugh was infectious. Paperwork be dammed.

The neon light grew faint in the distance, Betty by my side, while we took a stroll to the next alley; and then I, to the next bar with a neon light. ~ CMcGowan


Now together with the original piece that I wrote....

2am: The drizzle of rain was cold but welcomed, I was walking on a empty dark city street…it was quiet, the rain slicked street glistened with the neon sign of a local bar flashing against the black tar of the night. The only sound that could be heard is the sound of the electricity going through the tubes of the sign and pulsating every few seconds as the sign blinks and strains to turn off and then on again. Seems like a struggle that will continue on for sometime.


The bar has been closed for some time now, the neon lights serve as a reminder that the place exists and I should come back in the daylight. I don’t think so. I have spent my hours this evening on a bar stool at another bar a few miles away. Seems like the flashing neon is a sign to the dark city that it’s time to wash away the troubles of today as a new morn is approaching..this is good news for me..as…........

...the boss expects my report in the morning. I've ducked out two days already, but the blood trail will go cold if I suck down one more brew. I need time to think, to cast the shadows in another direction. 

It isn't entirely my fault. Why can't these dames stay home when the sun goes down? I can't resist a woman in a dress, drawn lines up her thighs; makes my mind race, my hands shake. 

The bartender is lookin' at me again and I don't like the looks of him. I may just tell him to go to hell, but - hey, well, look at you.

"I'm Betty," the lady said. 

"Why, yes. You are..."

"It's a cool night out there, sure could use a drink."

"Why, yes. You could. Bartender, a whiskey sour and keep em' coming."

Her laugh was infectious. Paperwork be dammed.

The neon light grew faint in the distance, Betty by my side, while we took a stroll to the next alley; and then I, to the next bar with a neon light. ~ CMcGowan


Again, congratulations Cresta!!  Thanks to all that participated!