Dobrodošli Ukurac

petak, 07.04.2006.

Isusova ruko...

Evo ovako vam izgleda jedan dan iz pakla...
Cili tjedan su vam dani isti: budite se ujutro u 6 i po, vracate se doma u 2 i po, imate 2 kontrolna iduci dan, dodjete doma mrtvi umorni, dignete se u 18 i po idete na trening vratite se u jedanaest mrtvi umorni odete u ponoc i po lec, i opet sve ispocetka.
Tako je meni bilo i eto danas se sve pokazalo koliko to utjece na mene. Jucer sam otisa popodne spavat jer san bia preumoran nakon skole i kad me iznenada probudilo neko zvono eek ja san mislia da je alarm i da je vrime za dignit se u školu... dizen se umoran ono ''asti nisan ni taka latinski...'', pogledan kroz prozor ono sunce sja, vanka ljudi (čudno, inače nije tako u 6 i po ujutro - mislin). Mislin se kako san zakasnia u skolu! Dalje nešto zvoni, svacan da su to vrata. Ko zvoni ovako rano? Dolazim do vrata ono brat sa torbom. Čudim se kako to ali ne svacam da nije 6 i po ujutro. Oden prat zube mouthwash , umijen se, NAPOKON pogledam na sat a ono 19.02 na satu... Popizdia san! mad
Dalje.
Idem na trening ostajem do 23 i vracam se doma mrtav umoran, cili izubijan sa svih strana, listovi me bole, rame mi je iskocilo prije par dana, taman iman vrimena napravit šalabahter koji me triba spasit na glazbenom. Spavam.
6.30 ujutro. Ustajem neznam za sebe. Dolazim do kuhinje, mačka mi se vrti oko nogu. Uzimam mlijeko, ali ne i čašu. Izlijevam mlijeko u zamišljenu šalicu. Pogledam dole, a ono svo mliko koje san izlia zapravo san izlia po mački rofl ! On samo ono mijau lagano i počea se lizat... Uz to san probia jedno 4 puta o šank nogom koja me boli već 7 dana...
Izlazim iz kuće u 7.32 (u 7.35 bus). Trčim. Na više od pola puta skužin da san zaboravia šalabahter mad .Trčim nazad još brže. Ljudi i Irena Šolić na koju san naiša u prolazu me gledaji blido. Stižem doma i uspija san stić na bus! U školu dolazin u 8.00 jer je bus naravno kasnia... nono
U školi ne uspjevam prepisat sa šalabahtera glazbeni a latinski dobivam asa... nono
Aj nadmašite me!!! thumbup

| 16:18 | Komentari (9) | Isprintaj | #

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Evo kako bi pravi blog triba izgledat

Nigga
Žila
Ljuky
Šaly (s naglaskom)
Liverpoolka
Urbani Miki
Marita
Dina
Jase
Tamara
Bura
Latica
Dea
Mili

Wish you were here

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

Maj blog

Evo i moji stari counteri (koji se nikako ne micu)

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Ja kad san sazna da mi je blog sjeban...

Don McLean
American Pie

A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.

But february made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.

I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.

So bye-bye, miss american pie.
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock ’n roll,
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that you’re in love with him
`cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.

I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.

I started singin’,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone,
But that’s not how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the king and queen,
In a coat he borrowed from james dean
And a voice that came from you and me,

Oh, and while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his thorny crown.
The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was returned.
And while lennon read a book of marx,
The quartet practiced in the park,
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died.

We were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.

Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to take the field;
The marching band refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?

We started singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on: jack be nimble, jack be quick!
Jack flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil’s only friend.

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that satan’s spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,
I saw satan laughing with delight
The day the music died

He was singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before,
But the man there said the music wouldn’t play.

And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.

And they were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

They were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die."

Evo jedna za naše duše

We don’t need no education.
We don’t need no thought control.
No dark sarcasm in the classroom.
Teacher, leave those kids alone.
Hey, teacher, leave those kids alone!
All in all it’s just another brick in the wall.
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall.

We don’t need no education.
We don’t need no thought control.
No dark sarcasm in the classroom.
Teachers, leave those kids alone.
Hey, teacher, leave those kids alone!
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall.
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall.

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