666 Followers

You guys…I swear I didn’t make any deals with devilish entities.

I. Swear.

shiiiiiit

Ahem…someone…anyone…follow me, please?

O_O”””

 

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Orca -The Killer Whale

You guys, seriously, this movie is the best movie ever.

Like, there’s this guy (Richard Harris) who accidentally kills a baby orca, and then Mamma orca is super pissed, because come on, wouldn’t you be pissed if someone killed your baby?

Mamma orca had my vote from the start (sorry, Richard Harris.)

And then I kinda started narrating the movie to my BFF. It went on like this:

“The whale just destroyed half of random harbor town, literally, half of the town blew up, all thanks to the whale. Best movie ever. This whale is awesome.”

“The acting is super serious by the way. The movie really takes itself in earnest. I mean, an orca blew up half a town and everyone is like “Oh, you messed up with the mighty orca,” like yeah, it’s super normal for a whale to blow things up and chase you every time you’re near the water. Like, the whale knows you now, and you’re fucked. Whale is gonna blow you up. 

I have a new found respect for all actors in this movie.”

“Okay, the orca was destroying the entire town (kindda stupid to have a town balanced over some wooden pillars underwater, specially since the townspeople were not surprised by the orca’s badassery, which tells me this might have happened before.) Anyway, people told Richard Harris he had to get his shit together and go face the whale, but he didn’t, so the Orca sunk his freaking house and bit a woman’s leg off.”

“Okay, so Richard Harris was pissed because his friend lost her leg and decided to go hunt the whale (FINALLY). He left with this cute woman (who was not the same woman who lost her leg), his BFF, and an Indian guy. Not like Indian-Indian, but like Native American-Indian.”

“The whale just jumped over the boat and took the BFF with her. Now the whale is leading them to the arctic and there are icebergs and shit. This whale is so smart, it has to be a mutant or something. Actually, Native-American-guy said the whale was GOD INCARNATED. In these exact words. Native-American-guy is such a drama queen.”

“OMG, this woman is so cheap. She literally just said, “Come closer, I’ll warm you.” Like, Richard Harris was sad because his BFF died, and now he is gonna have sex to feel better.

“Okay, they didn’t have sex.”

“Did I mention Richard Harris looks at least 60 in this movie? I wish I can be hunting killer whales in the arctic when I’m sixty…no, I don’t, actually. Killer whales are adorable and I could never kill them. Also, whale is gonna blow you up.”

Best Poster Ever.

Jaws could learn a thing or two from this whale, just saying. I mean, it blew up half a town, destroyed Richard Harris’ house, bit a woman’s leg off, and now it smashed against an iceberg to bury Native-American-guy under huge chunks of ice. Shitty way to die in a killer whale movie, man. I mean, the whale should’ve had at least the decency to explode him.”

“The whale just sank the ship and now Richard Harris and pretty woman are running on icebergs. OMG, the whale just stranded Richard Harris on an iceberg.”

“This whale is a freaking genius.”

The whale killed Richard Harris by throwing him against an ice berg wall. It did not eat him, it did not drag him to the depths of the ocean, it did not explode him. No. It threw him against an iceberg and smashed his skull.

This whale is a bad-ass mother-fucker.”

The lesson we can all take from this? Sea World is royally fucked, people. You can mess with sharks and wild bears, but you do NOT MESS WITH AN ORCA.

PS: This whale should get a freaking Oscar with some 38 years delay, but it’s the tought that counts.

A Poem and a few Haiku

Haiku #1

The fart echoed in the room

And the smell followed,

the smell of doom.

Tadaaaa!

Okay, okay, now a serious one:

Poem # 1 (This one is more in C.S’ neighborhood, so you know it will be boring.)

She wrote the letter with a single tear

It escaped her eye,

tracked down her cheeks,

landed on her chin and stood there

Like a stalactite

waiting to fall

Aaaaand back to the kickassery:

Haiku#2

Monday sucks. Is it weekend yet?

I wish it was.

Don’t you?

My Haikus are the best.

Being Two Different People

You’re gonna be freaked out by this. *Don’t say I didn’t warn you with a creepy whispery voice*

Being Princess Kickass is awesome. It’s so much cooler than being C.S. Wilde.

C.S. Wilde has to think twice before she writes a post or makes a comment, because she’s supposed to be this serious author (well, as much as she can). You know, that whole “With great power comes great responsibility” yadda yadda, which SUCKS, by the way.

I wanna be free and say dumb shit and do whatever I freaking want. I wouldn’t be Princess Kickass if I didn’t.

In (my) our head, C.S. is talking about gaining a readership, and engaging with readers and marketing strategies, and John Braver and Santana Jones, and she’s talking about this emerald statue in a freaking church, and meanwhile, all I care about is having some sushi and watching Jon Snow’s gloriousness in Game of Thrones, wondering if Kit Harrington would EVER star in Magic Mike, cause it would be so awesome if he lost all that innocence to an older woman, like a cougar, and although I’m some ten years behind becoming a cougar, I’d put all the fake make-up necessary to get that part, and I promise you, JON SNOW WOULD KNOW STUFF WITH ME.

See?  Totally different goals.

Anyway, C.S. is asking me if I wouldn’t mind giving a shout out to her (lame) author blog, because she’s trying to gain a readership to make a living, and it turns out her writing is not thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat bad. Okay, it’s terrible. 

So if you have time, do check her out.

I also made a deal with her. I told her I want my memoirs published at some point in time. She said no, because her memoirs are my memoirs, and I get it, she’s shy, but boy, do we have enough material for a HYSTERICAL memoir.

So I cursed her crops, and her dog, and her cow, and she agreed to write the memoir as long as I lifted the curse. Which I did (and she doesn’t even have a cow, crops, or a dog! Stupid…)

But I can bring the curse back any time I freaking want (especially upon her non-existing cow).

Just needed to remind her of that.

So it’s official people, I ‘m getting my memoirs!

Letters To Myself Part 2: Chocolate

Dear Princess from the future,

Buy some chocolate. You always need chocolate. Trust me on this. Seriously.

Why is there no chocolate inspired superhero, by the way? Like Milkywayman, or Twix of Fate, Mars Attack, The Cruncher…the possibilities are endless here, people.

Anyway, buy some chocolate.

Yours Truly,

Princess from the past

Hairy Latinas (And Some Argentinians)

Do not google for “hairy latinas”. Seriously, in the name of everything you hold dear, do not google it. I’ve tried, and I’ll never forget what I saw, so this is me warning you: do not do it.

We cool?

Cool.

It’s a well known fact that Latinas such as myself are hairy EVERYWHERE: arms, legs, backs, eyebrows; you name it, we got hair for you.

*A tiny girl raises her hand at the back of the audience and says, “I’m actually Argentinian and I barely have hairs. Like, I only shave every three months.”*

First of all: shut your mouth, you hairless freak of nature, and second of all: suck my bratwurst, Argentina.

Hey, it’s not profanity if I don’t have a bratwurst, right? So, yeah, Argentina sucks my imaginary bratwurst.

No wait, it’s cool, it’s okay, I can say it because I’m from Brazil. Americans have the same relationship with Canada, only Canadians are super nice and Argentinians are the fruit of the devil.

See, even the Argentinian girl is all like, “It’s okay. We’re cool everyone, she’s Brazilian.”

Unfortunately, not all of us are as gifted as some Argentinians (when it comes to hairs, that is. When it comes to football, Pelé was obviously way better than Maradona. Take that, Argentina!). This means I have to wax constantly, like every month, seriously.

Okay, fine, it’s more like every three weeks at most. If I waited four weeks in between waxing, my pubic region would replace the Amazon rain-forest in the list of world heritage sites. (Too much information, anyone?)

I just wanted to say how much I hate being hairy, and waxing, and Argentinians. Okay, just kidding, Argentinians are cool. Hair in the wrong places, on the other hand, is not.

How about you? Care to share some experiences?