#Crispy mcbacon

[zibaldone-di-pensieri]

Il big tasty è tornato, il più richiesto, w il big tasty

Cioè con il crispy mcbacon, il mcwrap, il big mac, la gente vuole il big tasty 🙄

Non è neanche il miglior panino di McDonald bah...

[travel-food-inspiration]

McDonald’s Prices in Italy 2025 (Burger, Menu, Drinks and Snacks)

When exploring the incredible culinary landscape of Italy, sampling local specialities is usually high on the agenda. But let’s be honest, sometimes you just crave something familiar or need a quick bite on the go. That’s where McDonald’s comes in. As of 2025, McDonald’s remains a popular, accessible option across the country. But what can you expect to pay? Let’s dive into the McDonald’s prices…

[sustainable-solo-travel]

McDonald’s Prices in Italy 2025 (Burger, Menu, Drinks and Snacks)

When exploring the incredible culinary landscape of Italy, sampling local specialities is usually high on the agenda. But let’s be honest, sometimes you just crave something familiar or need a quick bite on the go. That’s where McDonald’s comes in. As of 2025, McDonald’s remains a popular, accessible option across the country. But what can you expect to pay? Let’s dive into the McDonald’s prices…

[fuckyeahcaraddict-blog]

McDonald’s Prices in Italy 2025 (Burger, Menu, Drinks and Snacks)

When exploring the incredible culinary landscape of Italy, sampling local specialities is usually high on the agenda. But let’s be honest, sometimes you just crave something familiar or need a quick bite on the go. That’s where McDonald’s comes in. As of 2025, McDonald’s remains a popular, accessible option across the country. But what can you expect to pay? Let’s dive into the McDonald’s prices…

[im4rmy]

10: i do have abs

← 吻 →

Jisung was bored to death. He had no idea what to do. Chae was in Ulsan, Chenle had gone to the 127s to get his ear treated by Jungwoo, and Renjun had tagged along. Jaemin and Rachel were out shopping, while Jeno, Mark and Haechan were busy scouting for their next mission. And him? Stuck in the house with nothing to do. He was terrible at video games, had no interest in working out with Jeno's punching bag, and found Jaemin and Rachel's romance novels and Haechan's crime thrillers unbearably dull. Letting out a frustrated groan, he lay sprawled out on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling.

He gave in.

He stared at the screen for what felt like decades.

When he realized she wasn't going to reply, he got up and left the house—then came back, scribbled a note saying he was heading downtown, and left again. Destination: the university.

← 吻 →

"No, her father died when she was little," Mark said, grabbing a handful of fries from the bag.

"Then who was she talking about?" Jeno asked, his face buried in his burger.

They had completed the scouting mission. On their way home, they had passed by a McDonald's and... well.

"Her drug addicted mom's boyfriend. From what Taejin told me, the guy had a heavy hand," the Leader explained.

"What a piece of shit," Haechan muttered from the driver's seat, finishing off his chicken nuggets.

"Yeah..." Mark mumbled.

"Chae's not doing well," Jeno suddenly said from the backseat.

The two in the front tensed, exchanged confused glances, then turned to look at their Captain. "What do you mean?"

"She told me she doesn't know if she has anything left to live for."

A heavy, nervous silence filled the car.

"We should talk to Jisung about it," Haechan suggested after a few seconds.

"You mean Taeyong and Taejin," Mark corrected.

Haechan looked at him. "No. I meant Jisung."

Mark met his gaze. "This is serious. Why would we go to Jisung before them?"

"Maybe because he's her brother and knows her better than anyone else?" Haechan shot back.

"Don't use that tone with me," the older one growled.

"Cut it out, you sound like kids," Jeno interjected. "I'm sick of listening to you two argue 24/7."

"We dnever argue," Mark defended.

Jeno let out a laugh, trying not to spit out his Grand Crispy McBacon. "Dude, I haven't heard you talk civilly to each other in months."

Mark, momentarily thrown, looked to Haechan for support, but the latter simply turned back to the road, sipping his Coke without a word.

"I think I'll talk to Jisung," Jeno murmured to himself, nodding at his burger.

Mark shut his eyes and sighed. "And I'll talk to Chae."

Haechan looked up, shifting in his seat. "You'll have to wait a few days for that."

← 吻 →

Sohyun blinked, adjusting to the sunlight after spending six hours inside the university. She turned on her Bluetooth headphones and was about to put them on when a familiar gray jacket caught her attention. What was that tall idiot doing here? He was standing frozen in front of the pastry shop next to the university building. Hanging her headphones around her neck, she strode toward him. Jisung sensed his soulmate's presence and turned his head to look at her before returning his gaze to the pastries behind the glass.

"What are you doing here?"

"Told you, I was bored."

"And what do you—what are you staring at?" she asked, irritated that he wasn't even looking at her.

"Why are the pastries so expensive here? How can they charge 8,000 won for a donut?" he asked, baffled.

Sohyun stood beside him in front of the window. "We're downtown. And this place is popular with students, so they can jack up the prices as much as they want."

Jisung let out a deep, dreamy sigh.

"You hungry?" she asked, puzzled.

"I'm twenty. I'm always hungry."

"Which one do you want?"

Jisung gave her a strange look. "Are you offering to buy me food, princess?"

"I'm buying food for myself, but if you want something, I'll get it for you since you're all skin and bones," she replied, stepping into the bakery with Jisung right behind her.

"Two donuts—actually, no. One donut and a cream-filled bun."

"Don't overdo it, Jimin."

The two stood in line at the register in silence. Jisung glanced around; the shop had a charming, rustic feel, like a mountain cabin with dark wooden beams and green plants decorating the shelves—

"Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath, catching Sohyun's attention. "Shit, shit, shit. We need to leave," he ordered, grabbing her wrist.

"What's going on?" she asked, confused, as he yanked her out of the bakery in a flash.

Jisung didn't answer, dragging her toward a nearby alley. He shoved her into the shadows, ignoring her annoyed protest, and cut her off before she could insult him. "Shut up, okay? Don't make a sound."

Sohyun was about to cuss him out but froze when she saw the hardened look in his eyes. She'd seen that expression before—dark, serious eyes, clenched jaw, even his skin seemed to sizzle with adrenaline. She shut her mouth.

Jisung stepped out of the shadows, but he barely made it two steps before a voice stopped him in his tracks, making him clench his fists. Sohyun watched from her hiding spot.

"Well, well! Look who it is! The little one! Where are mommy and daddy?" the voice taunted, getting closer.

"I know as much as you do, Cho-Cho," Jisung replied, tilting his head.

The man stepped into Sohyun's view. He was about Jisung's height but broader, with slicked-back black hair.

"Poor orphan boy... Who was the girl? A new addition to the crew?"

Sohyun's blood ran cold. They had seen them together. No one could find out they were soulmates—her life would be in danger.

"What girl?" Jisung asked, glancing around casually.

Mr. Gel chuckled. "You're still the most irritating of the group, Park. Where'd you hide her, huh?"

Sohyun held her breath, remaining completely still.

Jisung sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. "No idea what you're talking about. How many times do we have to tell you? When you take Wave's stuff, wait for the hallucinations to wear off before leaving the house."

Mr. Gel clenched his jaw at the sarcasm and stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose. Jisung didn't flinch, holding his gaze with disdain.

"Sooner or later, one of you brats is going to slip up. And when that happens, it's over for NCT."

Jisung stared at his retreating back for a few seconds before turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction. Sohyun finally let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and sagged against the cold wall behind her.

This situation was, honestly, deeply unsettling. But also... She didn't want to call it exciting, exactly, but she was intrigued. Terrified out of her mind, of course. But intrigued. Her days weren't what she would describe as thrilling—not really. Not that she minded her quiet life, to be clear. But sometimes, just sometimes, she wished for something��more. And that arrogant, aggressive Jisung was...

"Hey."

Sohyun jumped so violently she almost screamed when Jisung suddenly appeared beside her, a white paper bag in one hand and a half-eaten donut in the other.

"Are you insane?! You scared me to death!"

"What were you thinking about? You had a weird look on your face."

Sohyun felt her cheeks heat up. The truth? Her mind had wandered to an image of Jisung, gun in hand, his face smudged with soot, clad in black leather pants...

"Who was that guy?" she asked instead.

Jisung licked his lips and sighed. "We, uh... dealt with his brother last year, and he's still holding a grudge." He took another bite of his donut. It was really good.

"Why didn't you just take him out? One-on-one, you would've won, right?"

"Of course I would've, but he wasn't alone. Two of his guys were inside the bakery, and three more were across the street."

She hadn't noticed any of them... "Is he dangerous?"

"Not as much as his brother, but... well, he's definitely not harmless," Jisung muttered. Then he hesitated before adding, "We need to be more careful. And also..." His voice trailed off before he finally said, reluctant, "We need to figure out how to trigger the bond, or you'll always be in danger."

Sohyun stared at him as he finished his pistachio donut. "So you can finally go on missions again, right?"

"Yeah. Without worrying about accidentally getting you killed with every step I take."

Sohyun sighed. As much as the thought of triggering the bond made her stomach churn, the idea of suddenly dropping dead in the middle of dinner with her parents because that idiot lacked common sense was even worse.

"So how do we do it? How do we figure out what triggers it?"

"No idea. You're the smart one here. Oh! Here, I got you a pink donut, princess," he said, handing her the little white bag.

Sohyun raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Did you steal these?"

Jisung scoffed, looking offended. "No! I stole a wallet and then bought them."

← 吻 →

After making sure Sohyun got home safely—keeping his distance and checking every step of the way that no one was watching or following—Jisung wandered through the city, taking the long route home. By the time night fell and his stomach started loudly protesting, he finally gave in and headed back.

As soon as he opened the front door, he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the comforting aroma of home: ramen and pork stew.

"Perfect timing, Jisung!" Jaemin called out with a wide grin.

Jisung hurried to his seat at the table. The only one missing was Chaerin—it was rare to find the whole team together; someone was always off doing their own thing.

"Where were you?" Renjun asked, scooping a portion of ramen into his bowl.

"Took a walk. Ate a donut," Jisung answered, waiting (mouth practically watering) for the older ones to serve themselves first.

"You look flushed," Rachel commented with a knowing smile. "So, you saw Sohyun."

Jisung rolled his eyes but didn't bother denying it. Instead, his expression darkened. "I ran into Choi Kuro."

The others immediately looked up, alarmed.

"Did he see you with Sohyun?" Mark asked.

Jisung shook his head and took his first bite of ramen. "No. Barely."

"Good. But you need to be careful. Try not to be seen with her in public."

Jisung nodded.

Dinner carried on peacefully, as if Jaemin's cooking had the power to dissolve all tension. The Captain wasn't throwing sharp glares at the youngest for once, Chenle's usual loud voice wasn't grating on anyone's nerves—on the contrary, it was almost funny. Even Haechan wasn't sulking like he usually did.

Then Rachel spoke, cutting off Jaemin's latest amusing story.

"Did you guys hear that?"

The entire table fell silent in an instant, every one of them on high alert. Mark's sharp ears picked up the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

"DOWN! DOWN! GET DOWN!" he shouted, yanking Rachel down by the back of her neck and dragging her under the table.

The others followed in an instant, just as a hail of bullets shattered the living room window, splintering furniture in the open-plan space. They moved fast—Rachel and Jeno crawled toward the cabinet near the fridge where they had left their guns, grabbed them, and loaded them in one smooth motion as gunfire continued to ring in their ears.

"Is anyone hit?!" Jaemin yelled over the noise.

No one answered yes.

"Can anyone see who they are?" Mark called, shifting out from under the table with Jisung and Haechan.

"Can't see anyone," Haechan responded, craning his neck as far as he dared.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, the gunfire stopped. Silence fell over the house—until a voice blasted through a megaphone outside, cutting through the quiet.

"LET THIS BE A WARNING: REVENGE IS COMING."

The team exchanged tense glances. Then something was lobbed through the broken window. Mark's eyes widened, but it wasn't a grenade.

Jeno scrambled to his feet, peering out into the night. He caught a glimpse of figures dressed in black fleeing into the shadows. Too dark to make out any more details. "They're gone."

Mark hurried to pick up what had been thrown inside. It was a tightly rolled bundle of toilet paper. Inside, a folded sheet of paper. The moment he unfolded it, he knew exactly what it was.

"What is it?" Jisung asked, stepping closer.

Mark exhaled sharply. "It's Sohyun's informations," he said, grim. "Her parents, her classmates, her class schedule... everything."

← 吻 →

Sohyun took off her headphones and set down the controller before slipping under her warm, soft comforter—even though she hadn't changed into her pajamas yet. It wasn't that cold outside, but living with two men meant she couldn't adjust the house's temperature to match her perpetually chilly metabolism. She was always cold. She got lost on TikTok for almost an hour before someone knocked on her window. She shot to her feet, heart hammering, and didn't relax even when she recognized Jisung.

A bloodied Jisung.

"What the hell did you do?" she gasped, throwing open the balcony door to let him in.

Jisung staggered inside and collapsed onto her plush carpet with a grunt. Sohyun knelt beside him.

"Jisung? Are you okay?" she asked, gripping his shoulders in alarm.

He nodded but didn't speak. Instead, he took one of her hands in his—bruised and shaking—and sighed. Sohyun understood immediately: just that touch was already easing whatever pain he was in. So she stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak.

A few minutes passed before Jisung finally broke the silence, telling her about the shooting. How he'd lost his temper, chased down those thugs like an idiot, and made them confess who had sent them. But a three-against-one fight wasn't easy—not even for him.

"You're bleeding... I'll get the first aid kit."

"No!" He caught her wrist. "Don't go. Please."

"I need to clean your—"

"In five minutes," he murmured, shifting a little closer.

"...Okay," she whispered, sitting beside him as she tried to steady her breathing.

Jisung inhaled slowly and exhaled loudly. His breathing was steadying now. He stretched his legs out in front of him, straightening his posture a little, but he was almost certain he had at least one or two cracked ribs. "That was stupid," he admitted in a whisper.

"Getting your ass kicked by three armed thugs? Yeah, I'd say so."

"No, coming to your university... I'm an idiot."

"You said it, not me."

Jisung let out a soft chuckle, but it ended in a pained hiss. That was enough for Sohyun. Ignoring his groaning protests, she got up to grab the first aid kit. By the time she returned, Jisung had managed to prop himself against her bed, his head resting on her thick blanket. She sat cross-legged beside his long legs, setting the disinfectant bottle down beside her. She soaked a cotton pad, then brushed his dark bangs aside to clean a cut still oozing blood on his forehead.

"Does it hurt?"

Jisung shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. Having her this close wasn't easy—his wounds and bruises faded into the background the moment he entered her room. Even her scent was enough to blur out his physical pain, not to mention her touch. He forced himself to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. It didn't work.

"I can't take this anymore," he admitted.

Sohyun paused. "Does it hurt?"

"I don't know how much longer I can handle Unidirection. It's too intense."

She sighed, dabbing a fresh cotton pad over his face. "I found a book online... It'll arrive tomorrow. It's full of unidirectional soulmates experiences—maybe there's something that can help us."

Jisung opened his eyes, staring at her concentrated expression—just inches from his battered face. She was beautiful.

"Close your eyes before I punch you, Jimin."

Jisung laughed and shut them again. Silence settled between them until Sohyun's phone rang. Frowning at the unknown number, she picked up.

"Hello?"

Jisung lazily glanced up, watching her expression shift before she handed him the phone.

"It's for you."

Raising an eyebrow, he took it—her glittery case felt ridiculous in his bloodstained hands. "Yeah?"

"Don't come home when you're better."

Taeyong's voice on the other end made him straighten instinctively—at least as much as his ribs allowed. "What do you mean?"

Taeyong sighed. "You need to stay with Sohyun and make sure neither she nor her parents step foot outside. Taejin and I will find a solution soon, but if you want to keep her safe, this is the only way. We'll talk in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

The call ended. Jisung locked the phone and handed it back to Sohyun, who was now standing with her hands on her hips.

"Who was that? And why did they call me?"

"My phone's dead. That was my... boss."

"Mark?"

"No. Mark's boss."

"And what did he want?"

Jisung hesitated before answering. "Until we handle this situation, we need to follow certain security protocols. For you and your dads."

Sohyun sighed, nodding as she sat beside him again. "We'll deal with it tomorrow. Now, take off your hoodie."

Jisung flinched, looking at her in alarm—almost fear.

She rolled her eyes. "I know it hurts there too. Take it off."

"I'm not bleeding," he argued, wishing he could bolt.

"Stop being a baby—come on—" She reached for the hem of his hoodie, but Jisung's hand shot out, gripping her wrist to stop her.

She looked up at him. He was staring at her, terrified.

"Wait," he breathed.

"What is it?" she asked, searching his battered face for an answer.

"I'm... not a pretty sight under here."

Sohyun smirked. "No abs? What a shame."

"No, I—I do have abs," he huffed, blushing. "But... this isn't the first time I've been hurt."

She understood then—he was genuinely self-conscious. And technically... he was in love with her. "Don't worry, Jimin," she teased, flashing a mischievous grin. "You've always got your pretty face to count on."

Jisung chuckled, finally relaxing. He released her wrist, signaling that she could go ahead. She helped him peel off the hoodie, his pained grunts making her wince.

"Holy shit," she whispered, staring at the massive purple bruise coloring his torso. "Okay, this should help." She grabbed a tube of cream from the first aid kit.

As she gently spread it over his bruises, she tried not to stare too much. He hadn't lied about the abs, but his torso was covered in scars. A ten-centimeter gash on his right side—she could see every single stitch, probably home-made. Two large, almost parallel scars on his left pec—she didn't want to know how he got those. A small circular crater above his right collarbone. Countless smaller white scars and old, yellowing bruises scattered across his skin.

He was wrecked. She didn't even want to imagine what his back looked like. Then again... judging by his shoulders and biceps, she figured—scars aside—it must be quite the sight.

"Did you got shot here?" The words slipped out before she could stop herself.

Jisung followed her gaze to his shoulder. "Yeah. Chae and I hit the wrong house. We were seventeen," he said, a small grin tugging at his lips as he remembered the moment they realized they had broken into a cop's home.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No." He studied her face, taking in the curiosity in her eyes as she carefully spread the sticky ointment over every fresh bruise. She wasn't even trying to hide the way she examined each scar on his skin.

"Okay, we'll put on more in the morning. Wait here—I'm gonna grab some clean clothes from my dad," she said, getting to her feet.

"Isn't that my hoodie?" he asked, frowning at the garment tossed over her desk chair.

"Yeah, you gave it to me the other night. Remember?"

"Yeah... I can just wear that," he said, reaching for it with some effort.

"No," she shot back, snatching it from his hands. He blinked at her, confused.

"That's my pajama, Jimin," she explained, tossing it onto her bed. "There's no way I'm letting you get blood all over it. It still smells like you."

And with that, she walked out to steal something from her parents' closet.

Jisung stood frozen, his heart hammering. That was the kind of thing that made butterflies explode in a teenager's stomach, and he was pretty sure he had millions of them flapping around inside him. Then the butterflies vanished. Because Hana was staring at him from the doorway, teeth bared.

"Hi," he greeted her, already resigned to his fate.

The dog moved in slowly, sniffing the air. Jisung lowered himself to the floor, sitting cross-legged to make himself look... smaller. And he prayed for Sohyun to hurry back. Hana circled him, her nose trailing from his shoes to his bare arms, then around his back and up to the nape of his neck.

"I swear I don't usually smell like this," he muttered.

The dog stepped in front of him again, locked eyes with him, huffed—then flopped down, resting her head on his lap.

And let him pet her.

← 吻 →

«吻, Wěn» index

previous chapter next chapter

masterlist

[gothsoulvi]

Raga il Smoky Gran Crispy McBacon, mi ha fatto cagare😖.

Volevo quello con il pollo (secondo me era più buono) ma oggi l’offerta prevedeva quello con la carne.

[edgarrallannhoe]

7-08-024 man, i fucked up.

today,tomorrow,to…

Ive been vomiting for the past 24+ hours now. i like to say “hahah i’m vomiting SO MUCH but idk why..” i know why. Rome makes me sick, rome makes me want to relapse, rome allows me to relapse. I know it’s no rome’s fault here, i wish it was. I wish all of this was anyone else fault but mine, but here we are, with all the faults in the world i guess.

i have to say tho, among all of the european capitals, rome is the least chic one by a mile.

Yesterday a bought me some Ketamine. I have a complicated relationship with K since the first time i tried it almost twelve-thirteen years ago and not knowing how to use it i just decided to open the bag and snort the whole thing in one line. Bad idea, i spent the night hugging the service toilet at my highschool with a friend making fun of me during the whole thing. Then after that day, i snubbed it at practically every occasion i had, i just wasn’t interested in that devilish thing again, and now, since a few years i’m again at it. I don’t want to talk about this tho, kinda boring, kinda useless.

8-08-024 somebody save me from myself

the purge

i tried to force myself to post, but i started writing then said “fuck it, why should anybody care?” then said “BuT IM DoInG tHIs FoR MySeLf sO whY dOeS it maTTeR if people enjoy it?” and then again “i’m lying as usual, few are the things i do where i’m not concerned about how i will be perceived, social media isn’t one of them.” so i’m here now, less whiny than the other day, but more sick.

I keep vomiting, crying, then trying to drink lil sips of water then vomiting again the same water i just drank. Atp this night i felt like a dry prune, without water, without anything substantial in me, wrinkled and all, i was literally crying hugging my garbage bin: i want to note that the garbage bin is literally kinda a wicker basket, so lot of holes and whatnot. I said to my dad, that because of my “puking problem” maybe we should pick a new one that doesn’t make everything messier every time this happens, and he bought another bin…. a DRILLED metallic one, so now i have a little drilled bin inside a wicker basket, a nightmare every time, now i have to also clean them after i’m finished!

i don’t think i have an ED, or at least not in the way it is usually explained. Ive always been skinny and kinda minature, and always ate whatever, but i have to admit that while once i believed ( and sometimes said myself ) the whole “i eat whatever and whenever and i stay sKiNNnYyYyYy” , i know understand this whole thing better. While i have a fast metabolism and a skinny/petite corporature, and it’s true that sometimes i eat McDonald’s four days in a row, i don’t put weight on cause i eat nothing during the whole day tho. like, i wake up and drink latte macchiato ( idk outside Italy what Latte Macchiato is, here is just like 1/4 coffee and 3/4 milk with maybe a lil sugar ), then mid morning i drink Latte macchiato, then i skip lunch, then in the afternoon you guess it! Latte macchiato! ( if it’s summer sometimes it gets changed with a cold Cola in the glass bottle, love it ), and THEN i eat McDonald’s. But if you consider the fact that i’m pretty active as a person , always moving even if i’m home in bed, and that i only drink coffee and milk the whole day, it’s not weird not gaining weight if you have a crispy mcBacon for dinner 4 nights straight.

So yeah, i think that whole “eat a lot don’t put on weight” it’s a little bit of a fairytale, but i’m sure that there is always a girl swearing that for them is exactly like that. Good for you Veronica.

Sometimes is also happens, that because i don’t really eat during the day, i end up having less hunger than if i ate ( i always ate slay✨), and then the hunger makes me nauseous, so then i vomit but i vomit absolutely nothing but slimish green bile, and then i am even more “hungry”- the problem is that i’m not, even when i am atp, i’m not hungry, i feel nauseous and i know that it’s because i need to eat, but i would rather not- it becomes a cycle, and every time is exhausting, this night i felt like i just wanted to die. I just wanted to be put off of this misery. Now it’s kinda better, kinda, rn here is 12AM, i woke up at three AM to, you guess it, vomit and it went on until almost two hours ago, i feel like shit.

I bought a watermelon at the store/supermarket, there is a real market near the store with better watermelons but i don’t want to enter that lively place, vade retro lol, so i’m okay with a watery and less red watermelon. i’m now eating in very small bites a small pizza no topping and all, but i’m far from feeling fine.

ok ill stop writing for now, IM DYIIIIING- i wish i was - aaaaaaaaaghhh somebody save me fucking please

xx emma

[soisbelle-et-soistriste]

766+Cheesburger, patatine e Coca Cola Zero

Odio la mia frangetta.

Ogni volta che ho tagliato la frangetta è stato in un momento in cui ho pensato, letteralmente: "£$%&/()".

Questo è quello che penso quando taglio la frangetta.

Lo feci nel 2016 quando stavo vedendo "Il favoloso mondo di Amélie" a casa di papà ed ho preso le forbicette del bagno e l'ho tagliata cortissima.

Quando l'ho fatta mi piaceva.

Ricordo che quell'anno, ricordo che fosse gennaio 2016 se non vado errata, quell'anno (intendo scolastico) fu quello in cui stetti sola, nel senso senza ragazzo e senza la necessità di cercarne uno.

Praticamente la versione basica di quello che sto passando ora.

Poi a giugno conobbi F. e la mia frangetta in 6 mesi si allungò parecchio.

Passo dei momenti così, dei momenti in cui la frangetta mi dà l'idea che sto facendo qualcosa di puro ed autentico, che mi sta bene al contrario di quello che diceva mia madre, che la frangetta era ingestibile. Io invece la so gestire, so gestire qualcosa di fuori dal comune perché io sono fuori dal comune.

E poi mi piace esteticamente, penso che in realtà mi abbellisca, ma poi vorrei i capelli lunghi fino alle spalle con il balayage e quindi penso che sono in questo eterno limbo, che la professoressa di marketing ha cioccato subito, di avere paura di crescere.

E quando vedevo G. piangere davanti Toy Story dicendo che era la sua più grande paura, forse non capivo.

Invece è sempre stata insita dentro di me questa sensazione di malessere dovuta alla discrepanza fra continuare a crescere, perché ad oggi ho 26 anni e sono piccola però sono grande, e quella me adolescente.

Perché alla fine la me bambina è stata curata, la me bambina ha capito che non deve prendersi le responsabilità del mondo, che è sicura.

Che alla fine la sua caparbietà l'ha portata lontano, lontana dai suoi demoni e che ora sta bene perché ha compreso che gli adulti non volevano deludere lei col suo comportamento, ma era semplicemente un rifletto di ciò che è stato fatto loro.

Però la me adolescente è ancora emo dentro.

In un eterno limbo fra la frangetta tagliuzzata male, i tatuaggi senza stencil che sono più crudi e più veri, finire a vomitare per terra alle 5 del mattino barcollante, urlare, ridere di cazzate, fare l'anarchica rivoluzionare e ascoltare i MCR e una donna, una vera, omologata, in ordine, capello sempre perfetto, come in realtà ero da LV, nel mio periodo LV.

Solo ogni tanto ho delle ricadute e forse l'Universo mi sta facendo capire, anche grazie a ieri perché no, che forse te le puoi mette le t-shirt oversize con le Birkenstock ed i ciclisti, ma non è necessario che questa cosa debba essere poi portata alla tua parte estetica permanente come capelli o mani.

Lo sai che i capelli, le mani ed in realtà anche i tatuaggi sono le parti ferme di te, quelle che si espongono e che devono essere pronte al cambiamento dei tempi e delle tendenze esterne, devi essere pronta alla rotazione dell'esterno, alla soggettività che ti colpisce da fuori.

Devi essere un corpo fluido, non puoi assolutamente permetterti per tua protezione personale di essere fortemente catalogata.

Devi rimanere fluida.

Pertanto, considerando che i tatuaggi esistono e nella tua visione sono tuoi e formanti la tua persona (ci posso stare, non sentire troppo la visione esterna, nel 2022 non è importante la percezione altrui sulla tua aggressività, sticazzi di quel mongoloide ritardato che ha provato a psicoanalizzarti, sto pezzo demmerda etichettatore del cazzo fallito idiota), stai serena perché è tutto in come poi sei di carattere.

Dicevo quindi.

Il Cheesburger ed il Big Mac sono i miei panini preferiti al McDonald's, poi sicuramente ci sta il Crispy McBacon.

Anche se in realtà la mia cosa preferita rimarrà sempre la settimana asiatica al Mc di via Appia Nuova.

Ricordo ancora le pareti azzurre con le note musicali.

Ed i 3 gamberi impanati.

E l'Apple Pie che l'ho mangiato a Vienna 3 anni fa l'ultima volta.

È facile essere una donna bianca rispetto ad una donna nera comunque.

Ed è facile essere un uomo rispetto ad una donna.

Comunque in realtà prima di questa parentesi il mio punto (parentesi che riconcludo dicendo che siamo in una Nazione dove tutti pensano di poter fare tutto e non capisco perché c'è sta bambinetta con i piedi sul tavolo porco di dio).

DICEVO.

Che il tuo corpo deve essere personale, ma nel contempo nella tua missione devi essere soggetta al cambiamento, quindi se ti piacciono i capelli biondi non farteli mori, ovvio, ma rimani fluida e nella norma, perché così oltre a sentirti sempre al posto giusto, puoi esprimerti meglio.

È solo un trick.

E poi i capelli hanno sto sbattimento che se li tagli poi sono corti e comunque cosa meno peggio perché a me piacciono corti, diciamo che il mio problema è il colore e la frangetta quando mi prende il matto.

Mi piace per quando mi sento un po' per i cazzi miei mezza ribelle un po' rock n' roll un po' con le Vans e la maglia H501.

Un po' tanto meno quando mi passano i 15 minuti di celebrità autoregolata e vorrei essere carina ed in ordine.

Dato che non sei mai stata una che le vie di mezze, un po' anche per gli insegnamenti di Avril Lavigne che diceva "O bianco o nero con me" nelle sue canzoni, questa cosa la stai imparando ora.

Però stai tranquilla hai un sacco di tempo.

Anche perché una presenza leggibile ti rende la comunicazione meno martoriata.

Quindi il piano è andare dalla parrucchiera e capire assieme cosa dobbiamo fare.

Ovviamente il mio colore pre decolorazione era perfetto per il balayage che volevo, ma ho deciso di decolorarmi divenendo arancione ed ora rame (???) che per carità non voglio dire che non mi piaceeeeee, ma poi mi do le picconate da sola perché sono in difficoltà.

Bisogna accettare i propri limiti, il mio è che se non sono serena con la presenza esterna che do allora me angoscio e me sento inferiore, questo problema si può ovviare semplicemente "omologandomi" superficialmente.

Quindi perché sbattersi tanto?

Ora sembro la prima fase di Beth Harmon che poi brava tempismo perfetto, ma mettete na parrucca santo dio.

Non lo so, se fosse che invece proprio questa necessità ad essere la parte più adulta di me?

Sempre più elitaria nella scelta di chi ho attorno?

Sono due punti di vista diversi dove in uno mi sento accettata e nell'altro l'accettazione è per pochi fedeli.

Non so sinceramente.

Eppure per lungo tempo non ho avuto problemi, poi mi sono rivista scura e ho scapocciato, al posto di ragionare e dire vado dal parrucchiere e me li faccio sistemare, che poi cazzo cioè ci sono andata comunque!

Come tutto nella mia vita del resto dove agisco impulsivamente.

Una vita da impulsiva, prima o poi cambierò.

Per ora che cazzo devo fa co sti cosi me li tengo così e basta.

E le sopracciglia?

Perché finché il colore dei capelli è così dovrei tenerle così e comunque mi piacciono.

E poi forse ti stai facendo il problema di R. perché hai paura di non piacergli forse.

Ma la verità è che se a un ragazzo piaci, gli piaci.

Stop.

Non ti fare questi problemi per gli altri, fatteli per te, perché un conto è dire "Ok voglio essere più neutra così mi è più facile, per la mia personalità e persona, interagire col prossimo" un conto è invece dire "Ok, voglio che X, Y, Z mi apprezzino e se sono come mi piaccio non mi apprezzano", cioè il movente è differente.

IN OGNI MODO.

Facciamo che rimaniamo sobri, quindi sopracciglia in tinta finché non crescono e man mano arriviamo ad un balayage e togliamo sta frangia HARDCORE DEL CAZZO.

E poi mi ero portata il Macbook per rivedere marketing, non per dare sfogo alle mie cazzate generazionali che cazzate non sono.

-------

Roma è e sarà sempre la mia città ed il mio cruccio.

Se non fossi mai andata via non ne avrei mai compreso la bellezza

[hoestronaut]

Info mammoth: they appeared around 4.8 million years ago and went extinct around 3.500/4000 years ago. Survival record: 4.796 million years.

Dinosaurs survival record: 165 million years (went extinct around 65 million years ago. Fun fact: a tyrannosaurus rex is chronologically closer to an iphone than a stegosaurus - which disappeared around 80-90 million years before the trex)

Mushrooms: 1 BILLION years (ongoing)

Humans: so far 200.000 years, not even a quarter of a million years.

Another historical fun fact: cleopatra is closer to ordering a crispy mcbacon than seeing the construction of the first pyramids. Cleopatra was born 2090 ears ago. The Great Pyramid of Giza was built around 2580 BC, about 2510 years before Cleopatra was born. So we are roughly 400 years closer to Cleopatra, than she was to the Great Pyramid. Also, just to give you an idea of how ancient is the Egyptian civilization: the Great Pyramid was not built at the start of Ancient Egypt’s civilization, but over five centuries after it began.

To connect this last fact to the first one: If you made the math you already know, but Woolly Mammoths were still around when the pyramids were being built.

A series of facts that destroyed my time perspective today

[music-makes-alive]

27 Giugno 2020.

È quasi mezzogiorno, il portatile scarico, la febbre negli occhi, la punta di una matita smussata rende la sottolineatura storta.

Nel riflesso un Hogwarts al contrario, sono Grifondoro ma mica mi ci sento troppo.

Imperfezioni ed incompletezze dei mercati azionari, teoremi fondamentali della nuova economia del benessere e, in tutto questo, ho voglia di Crispy McBacon.

[t4rz4n-s4m4-blog]

One two .... happy

[regina-del-cielo]

Reading Nicky go "what do you mean I am supposed to do cassoulet with olive oil instead of goose fat as the Recipe Dictates?!?" on The Script™️ has strongly re-affirmed my headcanon that Nicky has One (1) Personal Enemy in this modern society:

Diet culture in general, and specifically "fat-free", "light" variations of recipes.

I think we've all come across them at some point. Those recipes where the food is originally meant to be fried, but the "modern" version says to bake it in the oven because "it's healthier". "Sugar-free" drinks or candies (as if they didn't put sweeteners in them anyway). Frying with vegetable oil instead of butter or lard. Using oil instead of butter in shortcrust pastries (it's a recent trend. My mother is Appalled™️ by this one). "Fat-free" cheeses, "fat-free" butter!!!

Don't get him fucking started on margarine.

Listen, the man is from Liguria, he loves olive oil. He has no problems believing that unsaturated fats are better for cardiovascular health, and that eating too much of a thing isn't good in general.

But. If the recipe says "butter", butter it will be. Why should it be wrong anyway? It's good! It's filling! It warms you up! It gives you nourishment!

The post about potatoes having a lot of calories being the whole point of potatoes? That's Nicky's food thesis right there.

Every time Nicky sees a magazine with publicized "miracolous diets" he breaks out in hives.

"Why are all these people obsessed with calories? Why does everyone want to lose weight so bad? Look at this monthly menu, Yusuf. This is miserable. We've eaten army rations that were better than this! And for what? Just to wear skinnier clothes for two months?"

"In this one you're supposed to substitute dinner with a tisane for a week!! This is starvation!!!! And what the fuck is a detox tisane anyway?!?"

"Look at this" *holds up a butter brand* "it says, 'now with 45% less fat'. This is butter, amore. They're taking fat out of butter! It would be like making canned tuna without tuna. É ridicolo, non ha alcun senso!"

Can he do anything about it? Absolutely not. Does he have more urgent things to worry about in his life? Of course he does, and it's not like it occupies his mind 24/7.

Do you think he loses any occasion to buy en masse as many copies of Cosmopolitan and Men's Health as he can get his hands on, and ritually burn them in the backyard of whichever safehouse they're staying in at the moment? HELL TO THE NO.

(And he's not going to budge on tradition, when he's cooking for leisure, comfort and Special Occasions, thank you very much)

[shipwreckedcomedy]

The Shipwrecked Podcast is back with none other than birthday boy Jimmy Wong! It’s a good one so listen up! Happy Birthday Jimmy! 

[slightly-gay-pogohammer]

genuine question: if you could cast anyone else as mario, who would it be? like i mean besides the OG voice actor Charles Martinet is my first choice, but who would YOU wanna see most?

man nice question......... anyone but crispy mcbacon

BUT ALSO. since i wanna be self-indulgent a bit? and i wanna pick some good italian voice actors? Without having to go over the top with the accent?

Pietro Ubaldi for Mario and, if I may? Oreste Baldini for Luigi

[ruvidapoesia]

Ho voglia di cannetta, crispy mcbacon, birretta e vista panoramica

[myinfinitystory]

Cosa hai preso al mc?

Il menù col crispy mcbacon