You’ll thank me soon enough for posting this one with the lyrics ‘cause let’s be honest: Who doesn’t want to sing along when this oldfashionned rythm is taking over you?
Late 80′s were definitely the best years for electronic type music.
For those who may think of buying a Fitbit tracker, you may have heard about compatiblity problems of Fitbit products with numerous phones and/or tablets.
They do have a list of compatible products, but seriously, this list is mainly shit ‘cause it’s not updated enough.
Well, you’re lucky if you are a Samsung A3 owner like me, (you don’t need the pink model like mine tho...)
Because this model is compatible with the Fitbit Alta HR tracker!
❗ Yet, I don’t know if ALL fitbit trackers are indeed compatible or not ❗
If you also own or think of buying a tablet, then know that the Lenovo Yoga Tab 3 Plus (and not Pro) IS also compatible with the Alta HR!
Oh and if you want some nice bracelet for your new Fitbit, Alixpress is certainly a very good place to buy cheap priced yet good quality wristbands. Incredible choice of colors, materials and styles!
And if like me, even the S/P size is style pretty big for your small wrist, you may buy bracelets for the Fitbit Ace model. Even though the Ace is a different tracker, the easy ‘clip’ system is the same and the bands are smaller since it was designed for kids!
I've been depressed for many, many, maaaany never-ending weeks now.
I don't even remember when all that shit begun, but what I know, is that I couldn't even resolve the slightest of my problems before knew ones kept falling on my shoulders...
I'm usually very strong and ballsy.
Yet, when it indeed begun, I cried almost every freaking day as I could barely stand my current situation and found my body way too tired after crying my heart out for my brain to process all those shits anymore.
In short: tears were painful –hell! My head ached a lot after it!- but they were the only way for me to get some sleep at night and feel –even if just for a very short time- a little bit better at day.
It lasted so long that crying almost became a routine for me to let some 'steam' off.
Then, something in my head rang.
WTF?
When the hell did I even become so weak? What in the fucking world could only disturb me when I'm the type to say out loud I give no shit? Who's the one I'm seeing in the mirror?
Not me. I am not weak. I don't give a shit. About anyone. About anything.
I am but a mere coldhearted loner with some damned big mouth and pretty sharp words.
I told myself it was enough crying, enough being depressed, and enough acting like some lifeless body.
I am a warrior and I can crack every fucker's skull as I want if I just feel like it. Yes, bitch.
After that, I slept better without letting out the slightest tear.
I woke up less tired, but still not particularly motivated.
I got to work, back to being my usual self: guts, balls, mouth. The least needed.
Of course, it was rather boring, but seeing my old coworkers gave me back my smile, all the more when I heard that some barked about me not being here anymore and about my switching not having been officially said, and that my dearest and closest teammate was totally depressed.
Not that I'm happy about what they're feeling, but it heals my wounded heart to know there are people who sincerely like me for the bitch that I am everyday.
I wish –perhaps should I pray?- for me to go back to the place I really belong. Until that day comes, I'll stay strong and true to myself because that's also how I am.
Avis à tout les blaireaux et pecnots gens qui me posent encore la même question parfaitement débile et bien relou à chaque putain de fois que je porte des talons de plus de 9cm de haut et moins de 2cm de large aiguilles :
“Mais comment tu fais pour marcher la-dedans ?!”
Réponse:
<<Je mets le pied gauche devant, puis le droit, et je recommence jusqu’à arriver à destination.>>
<<Connasse.>>
D’autres questions ?
PS: la VRAIE question intelligente à poser serait :
C’est pas trop la merde quand tu roules ?
Réponse:
Ça dépend bien évidement de la godasse en question mais quand il s’agit d’une bottine à talon aiguille de près de 15cm avec plateforme de 4~5cm:
OUI, c’est galère les premières minutes, surtout quand la surface de contact est très réduite et très lisse. On ne sent la pédale que via le retour de force et on peut TRÈS facilement ripper (et donc se louper) en voulant appuyer dessus à cause de l’angle inhabituel de la cheville.
Comme pour tout, il faut un peu de pratique. Mais quand on porte souvent des talons, l’habitude se prend très rapidement et la différence de hauteur n’est gênante qu'à cause de la fatigue qu’elle engendre sur la cuisse droite.
Dat feeling when you waited all the damn week to see if you would ever get a text, a mail or the slightest sign that the person you sent da letter would come to the date, hour and place you fixed.
That feeling, gnawing at you when you wait in your car on the parking, looking at every car passing by to see if it's his and if he would really come…
Minutes pass and time arrives.
So you slowly walk toward that beer shop, the heels of your boots echoing loudly in your walk.
That feeling, when you pass the door, searching for a face that you don't see, and walk even more slowly than before toward the bar to ask for a beer. Some people –just like you right now- are by themselves drinking a beer.
Of course, they're all men, and they can't help looking at you for at least 2 seconds.
That wonderful feeling when, after drinking half of your beer already, you finally get a text from an unknown number, asking for where you are and what you’re doing.
You can't help but smile, feeling relief getting through your veins and warmth filling your heart.
That feeling when, the more you chat with that unknown number, the more you realize you've been stood up.
At first, it seems like there were some miscommunication between you two, but your logic is sharp and your feelings deeper than you thought… Something is not getting right.
Either the one you're chasing after is rather stupid and airheaded, or he just doesn't give the slightest shit about you, is too lazy –or just a coward- to tell you frankly, and of course, is, for the second time already, just lying to you…
And now, you're just lost.
You don't understand why and how it could have come to this. Yet, that feeling is really here and it's damn strong: it just hurts.
You empty your glass and just leave that fucking beer shop where you were freezing your ass and bones. You get into your car, put the heater on and start the engine. You still don’t understand why people can't have the guts to tell the truth when it should be said.
That feeling when you don't want to get back home. You have no idea what to do or where to go, but you drive, taking the longest way back, somehow loosing yourself in a city you don't even know.
Your fucking brain must have shut down because you can't even tell how you feel anymore.
You don't feel like you're pissed off.
You don't feel like you're gonna cry.
You're just… kind of puzzled.
While you're once again messing your head up about one single man, you hear the songs playing on your radio. You start feeling down and without any notice, your throat feels tight, your chest is heavy fluttering and your sight is blurry. Before you could record what happens, your cheeks are already wet and salty: he's such a bad liar…
But you're the only one to blame for being so stupid. You dared to hope.
Do you know that feeling?
Well, I do. And I do feel so stupid.
I did hope. And I really don't feel so good right now.
I knew it was a bad idea from the start, I knew I would end up being hurt, but I couldn't stop 'hoping'. I genuinely wished to, at least, get closer to that person and learn more about him.
But I'm asking for too much. Who gives a shit about me? Who thinks of me when I'm not around?
In two days, on the 3rd of march, I'll turn 32 and I can already tell that aside for my family and one old friend, no one will remember the easiest birthday to remember, because no one in this new life of mine thinks of me.
Dat feeling when after long hours and complicated days of thinking, you finally decide that you’re tired of getting both your brain and heart all messed by just one person, so you make an important yet scary choice and get the guts -who you are so damn timid- to make the move.
Dat feeling when, because of your well-known shit-like luck and legendary dark karma, you just never have the opportunity to see that person and instead, keep meeting with people you desperately try to avoid every freaking day.
Still, this is no shit and you've made up your mind: You. Will. Not. Give. Up.
Not this time.
Dat feeling when you write a letter that almost sound like some official mail -adding that special trademark humor of yours- to that person, and just pin it over its locker.
Inside, you ask him out for a drink that you're willing to offer, just in order to have some real –and why not nice- time together while chatting and learning some more about him. You also secretly hope you could finally give him those damn Valentine chocolates that are waiting in your own locker for a few days already…
Dat feeling when everything's is finally set and you wait for him to give you his answer.
Dat feeling when the day passes and you realize the letter didn't move in the slightest bit from where you pinned it…
Dat feeling when -thanks to your wonderful friend and coworker whom you can truly count on- you get to know that this special someone who illuminates your day and keep you awake at night just won’t be at work for at least the whole weak because he’s sick.
Dat feeling, after putting so much time, so much efforts and feelings into one fucking damn letter, after looking at those poor heart-shaped chocolates waiting alone in the darkness of some industrial locker, after realizing you do not have that person's number and can't text him to know if his cold –and you pray it's nothing worse- is not too bad, after realizing you do not know his address either so you just can't make some courtesy visit to get some news –and secretly reassure your worrying self- about that person's condition…
Do you know that feeling?
Well, I do. And I'd say it's somehow both funny and damn depressing at the same time knowing that life is somewhat always like this.
dailybridgerton
prguitarman
snowghoul
pixelskylines