Blind Date
I usually don’t receive letters in French so my heart started beating a little faster when I noticed the long french email in my mailbox at the end of last winter. It was addressed like „Dear Roth” so it was no mistake, it was sent to me without any doubt, but of course I could not understand a word of it. While I was scrolling down I was thinking where could he saw me, who could be that french guy, in what kind of intriguing ways could he track down my email address to contact, and who can I trust to translate his letter. The daydreaming got burst after ten seconds because there was a short English summary at the end of the letter making it evident that it is not a guy. It is a job. A peculiar kind.
Each painting has a story
I told you I cant, for thousand times I said so. I am really sorry but I can’t paint a picture for you about Cologne, I understand that you had been studying there with a scholarship, and the city means so much to you, sheerly the best time of your life. And I understand that it would be so nice to get some small notebook with a puppy picture for your sister especially that she just got her own dog, and anyway it was your shared childhood dream but your parents firmly resisted but now its is fulfilled finally.
I’ll never forget the first
Do you remember that Magnum ad, there was only a super close up shot of a lipstick covered lip on the poster as it is approaching an enticing chocolate coated ice cream bar on a stick, half of the country was hissing, what a double entendre. And in the TV spot it poured out of the girl on an erotic voice, complying with the poster, that I’ll never forget the first. Although for me the ice cream piling on the poster only translates to a giant ice cream up to this day, the moaning sentence still haunts me 20 years later (geez) and it sounds in my head on exactly the same voice whenever I am indulging in nostalgic thoughts, like I do rightnow.
Money tips – not only for believers
There was an old lady living in the neighborhood of my granny who was simply called Silly Aunt Bözsi, not just because it sounds good but she was actually a little bit disturbed old lady. Not really disturbed, but kids are cruel and a little deviation from mainstream is enough for them, it is spotted immediately. And so is the case when someone stores her paper banknotes in her wallet folded into four by each nomination separately and during payment she keeps explaining to the cashier that they remain with her for a longer time with this method, as it is harder to give them out.
She’s nailed it.
I often feel tired at the end of those design fairs – like that of WAMP This Sunday – and sometimes I envy those designers, instead of whom there are others standing, freezing or on the contrary, roasting throughout the whole day. At these times it strikes me me that I should rather substitute myself with someone, who might even be a better salesperson than I am, as the product specifications can be learned, and my customers hopefully choose my products not exclusively because of my personal charisma (at least I hope so, even if the possibility is flattering.) I would have ideal candidates for this position.
The School Bell Rung
Although I am not a target subject myself with my kid, still I can not avoid the school-year start anxiety keeping half of the country in craze. I remember I was the kid who was looking forward to start the school and the preceding school supply shopping.
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