Ο Χλεμπονιάρης Παργαλάτσος κι άλλες ιστορίες | 116 + κάμποσες λέξεις και φράσεις για αστειέμπορες

  1. τσουμπλέκια
  2. χαμούρα
  3. κλανιόλα
  4. καβαλίνα
  5. γκαιφές
  6. πιρούνι
  7. χλαμπούκιασμα (ευγενική λεξιπλαστική χορηγία της Ιωάννας)
  8. κιλότα
  9. τσιμπιρδόνια
  10. χλιμίτζουρας
  11. κασίδα
  12. σπαζοκλαμπάνιας
  13. τσιρλιπιπί
  14. μαρκαλεύω νταγλαράδες
  15. κατάκολο
  16. ραμολιμέντο
  17. γαμώ της γης τον άξονα
  18. καβλιτζέκι
  19. βερβελιές
  20. παπαρδέλα
  21. μπόγλα
  22. μαντζαφλάρι
  23. αντροτραγανίστρα
  24. μαρκούτσι (χορηγία: γιαγιά)
  25. μπανιερό
  26. τσιμούχα
  27. λόρδα
  28. μαδομούνι
  29. σπανομαρία
  30. κωλομάγουλο
  31. σαχλαμάρα
  32. πουτσοβράκι
  33. μπίχλα
  34. κουκούβισμα
  35. καρκαΐλι
  36. τσόκαρο
  37. παστρικιά
  38. τζιτζιφιόγκος
  39. βρακί
  40. μπούρδα
  41. καυλοράπανο
  42. σκορδομπέκι
  43. βυζοθήκη
  44. τραγί
  45. γκαβίδι
  46. μπιρμπιτσόλι
  47. σακί
  48. είμαι ζαμπόν/κοτόπουλο
  49. χλεμπονιάρης
  50. συμπράγκαλα
  51. αλαφροΐσκιωτος
  52. κλάνω μέντες/καρβέλια
  53. μιρμίρισμα
  54. σούφρα
  55. πόμολο
  56. μόμολο
  57. πουτσοδείκτης (γραβάτα)
  58. λινάτσα
  59. πετούνια
  60. αλεπού
  61. φλόμπα
  62. μπουχέσας
  63. κουραμπιές
  64. τουρλώνω
  65. πετούγια
  66. σκουληκαντέρα
  67. κούναβος
  68. Κουραμάδες (περιοχή στην κέρκυρα)
  69. κλαπατσίμπανα
  70. ψωλαρμενίζω (αγαπημένη χορηγία Παναγιώτη και Afonso <3)
  71. μπουρμπουλήθρες
  72. μαλαπέρδα
  73. καραγκιόζης
  74. σκατούρδι
  75. φουφού
  76. κουράδα
  77. μου τα έκανε μπαούλα/τσουρέκια
  78. τσουτσούνι
  79. στου διαόλου τον αστράγαλο/ το φρύδι/ τον κώλο
  80. σαφρακιασμένος
  81. τσιφιτίρι
  82. κακορίζικος
  83. πούδρας
  84. πέτσα
  85. τσιλιβήθρα
  86. φελέκι
  87. κλασομπανιέρα
  88. κολυμπηθρόξυλο
  89. σούρδος
  90. μπεργελές
  91. καταβόθρα
  92. σκερβελές
  93. τυρί
  94. στρακαστρούκες
  95. μαλακοβιόλης
  96. είπε ο βόθρος το κοτέτσι καλέ πώς μυρίζεις έτσι
  97. μασχαλίλα
  98. μπαλότσα
  99. μαλακοπίτουρας
  100. χυσαποθήκη
  101. κατσίκι
  102. μασχαλοκωλίλα
  103. Όλος ο κατάλογος ελληνικών αλιευμάτων (θενκς Αλεξ)
  104. Μαρία της γειτονιάς
  105. παρακατιανός
  106. καραμούζα
  107. μπουκώνω
  108. αμπλαούμπλας
  109. μπανόφι
  110. πιγκάλ (το βουρτσάκι της τουαλέτας. έχει ΟΝΟΜΑ μα τι περίμενα)
  111. μπαλαφούμας
  112. πορδοβούλωμα
  113. μπάμιας
  114. χλιμίτζουρας
  115. μπιζουτιέρα
  116. λαρυγγοπιπινόζα
  117. καφέ κάνει;

Με μπολντ τα προσωπικά αγαπημένα (με καλύτερο νομίζω τον παργαλάτσο). Ευχαριστώ όλους όσους έδωσαν ένα χεράκι για να χτιστεί τούτη η λίστα. Προτάσεις καλοδεχούμενες.

Η Δάφνη παίζει γκέημς #04 | Celebrating 100+ Hours of Civilization V

December 2, 2013. It was a fateful day. The day I started my very own first game of Civ.
I had been wanting to try it since forever but a shitload of other games occupied my free time. Since I never really immersed myself in a strategy game, I felt it was too daring to venture forth alone in this unexplored genre… Which is why some cold late November afternoon Cubilone proposed we play a hot seat Civ game as a trial.

CivilizationV-2011-04-10-10-33-45-88

Oh the joy of the first settler!

(I remember reading about the debate on whether to move your settler on the first turn or not-I most certainly do move them almost always.)

Needless to say I was instantly hooked.
Very soon I started my very own first game as Japan, and won a (not so well-earned) cultural victory if I remember correctly. Since then, I’ve played varying Civs with mostly deadly results, especially after I intsalled the Brave New World expansion. At some point I just ceased winning the game, having taken the decision to play on the Warlord setting… Seems I have a lot to learn.

But even though my last 3 games were flukes, I always enjoy a good game where Casimir is being a gigantic turd, Elizabeth denounces me from 3000 BC because of reasons, Ghandi is promoting peace, Kamehameha has a hilarious awesome war theme and Attila is screaming more nonsense than the rest of the leaders.

maxresdefault

Look at this delightful bastard. Isn’t he adorable?

My all-time favourite has to be the Aztecs. Jaguars and gaining culture from killing enemies? Fuck yes.

Montezuma_intro

Montezuma the Terrible.

Now that I think of it, I’ve never played as Greece… Alexander was pretty lame though, declaring war on me, taking a look at my ginormous army and immediately running to save his ass.

No game has ever had the power to keep me glued to the screen repeatedly for hours on end, checking every little detail and parameter, never leaving things to luck. Or at least trying to.

Automation.

I’m curious about the rest of the Civ games- once we attempted a Civ IV multiplayer game with Rena and QB, but something kept going wrong the whole time and I never got the chance to enjoy it after we gave it up. Talking about multi, I remember an awesome game I played with my brother and one of his friends. Even though it was just us three, it took so much time to process everything that I read a big part of American Gods while glancing at PLEASE WAIT.

(have some moar great music)

Civ V has excellent expansions. Brave New World’s enticing new way of winning a cultural victory drew me in even more. Not to mention the overly clever name. I’d like to be able to win a domination or score victory just once though, but I’m still struggling with the game’s mechanics needed for a such a thing.

Now that I think about it, I generally play peacefully, but if other civs get angry at me because I’m stealing the bananas they wanted, they’re in for a treat. Get off my lawn!

nvi3orskhrrxbwcyiujx

Indeed.

While everything’s great, I discovered that things like global warming have no place in Civ V, apparently. They did, however, in the previous games. Why not this one? Real-life parameters make the game truly challenging and, well, likeable. Thank Steam users for mods, anyway. I just started one as the Galactic Empire.

On a side note: hilarious comic. (artist)

CRwxIPl

One more turn?

You feel like home

I have been looking for a good way to start this post but none will ever be good enough I guess. So…

edit: It turned into something other than expected! hah.

We are very privileged people. If you have a computer and/or a smartphone and are reading this right now, take a moment and be thankful for it maybe. I consider myself quite a privileged human, because I have had and will have a huge amount of chances to go out of my comfort zone, to travel and meet people. Lately I’ve been grabbing these chances almost before they appear… I have some youth exchanges down my personal history book (hungry for more!), I started mentoring EVS volunteers, and generally the past year I have been to so many places, met so many people and made so many friends that home doesn’t feel like home anymore.

And what does feel like home then? The people. The people feel like home. Home is wherever I’m with you… And if we’re talking about the people who are or would love to be free-spirited ever-moving-place-dwellers (what?) like me, it’s a win-win situation.

I found out during this short quest of self-discovery that not only do I feel at peace when I am anywhere but home, but also that I am much more solitary than I thought. Which only means it’s a matter of time before I leave this shit of a city-I unconsciously started cutting my ties to everyone and everything years ago. Of course, as with everything, there are exceptions… There’s a tiny handful of people for whom I would move continents for, no matter what. Cubi being their king.

So, travelling… I basically started writing to account my Cyprus adventures (or lack thereof) ^^;
Who would believe it one year ago that I would have jumped on a plane to visit a lovely Catalan I met in the Netherlands and that I would stay in 5 different places, one for each night, one of them being the house of the boyfriend of  one of the volunteers I’m mentoring? (Scheisse, that was complicated even to write)

I want to make it my life purpose to get people out of their comfort zone because I’m struggling with it too. A lot of friends of mine said they admired my courage and effort to visit “these people” who are so far away yet so close to my heart and it made me wonder how much (or little) people value human relationships and fresh experiences at the present time. I mean, come on! They’re only a plane or a bus away, and thinking of the endless possibilities of food tasting and people gathering boggles my mind.


If I hadn’t taken the step to go out into the unknown territory of a distant friend reunion, I would never have known the pure perfection of this vacation. I would never have known the serenity of lying silently on fresh grass in extreme heat, the blessed feeling of going to sleep and waking up with the sky staring at you, the cold stone ice cream, the empowering feeling of overcoming my fear of biking through a city. I would never have been introduced properly to GeoCaching, I would never have met a guy who liked my drawings so much that he wants me to visualize his idea for a graphic novel, I would never have realised how careless of a cook I am or never found Bulgarian beer in that god-forsaken island.

6 days so lazy but so full, full of laughter and weird deep conversations and food, lazy with jabbahutting [just lying somewhere, preferably on sand, doing nothing but talking nonsense] and butt-burning at the beach and frappe and Kamenitza and failure cookie-tasting.

Cyprus felt like home for some reason, the scenery was totally Greek to me and a lot of other places reminded me of Thessaloniki or Patra or Halandri and I guess it’s true-only lost people come on this island trying to find something, and surprisingly I found it, even though I didn’t know I was looking for it.

This world has a weird sense of humour, sometimes twisted, and instead of trying to understand it, I am trying to go with its flow. It’s not easy, nobody said it would be. Get out there, surprises imminent.

I’d like to thank all the people who made this trip truly unique in their own (helpful or not) way! ^ω^

Scan

inner conversation: -This is so silly, I shouldn’t even have scanned it. -Nonsense! It’s cute, it’s nice thing to complement your post. -But the people are all wron- -Shut up and drink some frappe OK

(I am sure I forgot people and wrote names wrong. And the scan is not so good. OH WELL)

 

DSC_7844-2

[Later] -It’s a lighthouse. – No, it’s not.

Planets made entirely of water and golden and blue lights entering liquified dreams.

Let your younger self inspire you

While browsing through posts of my god-forsaken Google+ profile, murmuring jesus how old is this post and what WAS I thinking back then *delete* *delete*, I came across a photo album I shared close to 3 years ago. I was ready to delete this too, scoffing at my “mediocre attempts at photography” so long ago. But then some kind of magic took place and I decided to take a proper look at these photos…

Surprise! Two minutes in, my mind was overflowing with memories from the trips and situations portrayed, and it went so far as to like a couple of photos very much.

First year of University

I remembered how proud I was back then of these attempts. I had a little compact camera full of dreams, and I was just discovering the real magic of photography. I was passionate, going to extreme lengths just to photograph something that caught my eye. I didn’t care that I had no professional camera, my mind was free of judgement and my eyes full of wonder. I let my inspiration be my surroundings only – compared to today, where I have followed a ton of photographers on Flickr and I drool over their work, sadfacing because “I can never be that good”.

WHY does it always result to “I can never be that good” these days? Where did inspiration from both external and internal stimuli go? We had this talk with sir Cubilone 1,5 year ago on our first date (or was it second?) – the internet nowadays is way too overwhelming for our brains, my own puny brain included of course. I can never be that good results to why should I even try and you kind of abandon the whole idea of going for what you love. What the hell does “that good” mean? We all have different styles that appeal to different people. If you never try, yes, you will never appeal to anybody.

Caminito

I feel kind of pretentious writing these lines. I feel like I’m mocking my own self and the people reading it (if any). I feel as if none of this really matters, I’m gonna die one day anyway and who’s gonna remember me and the shit I wrote and did? Well fuck you too, brain, I’m not giving in to your crap anymore. I’m not able to change how rotten this world is and where it’s heading, but I might as well live this crappy life to the fullest. And if nobody cares about this post, then so be it, I care, and I will make my time on Earth worthwhile while I still can.

I’ve spent years worrying about these things. I’ve been through extremely nihilistic phases, but what good does it do? Am I going to live my remaining years surrounded by the cloud of Pointlessness?
Nope. Nope, nope.

Looking at the photos of my younger self, I found that my depleted pool of inspiration was refilled. How many times have I advised people who just now have started, i.e., drawing, to never delete/tear apart/throw away stuff they do because they’re gonna look at it some years of now and be proud? Why can’t I follow my own advice?

I’ve been doing tons of things to try and inspire myself again. The fire has been burning low for years, with only short intervals of creative explosions, which became more and more rare. But I never thought that looking at my old work would give me such an empowering feeling… It’s the same with my drawings. Where did passionate Daphne go? The Daphne that didn’t give a fuck how good other people were? (I believe one of the biggest reasons of my downfall was that in 2010 we started having and internet connection at home.)  The Daphne that drew inspiration from within, that saw other artists as equals and not masters who she would never reach? The Daphne that presented her work proudly, but without a speck of egotism or self-doubt?

So what if they have 3, 15, 50 more years of experience? There’s no “patience, you’ll get there sooner or later” for me anymore. By the time you get “there”, “they” will have moved on to something greater – there will always be “someone far greater than you”.

What happened to doing something just for yourself? Almost all of us kind of obsessed with showcasing our work, mostly for getting likes and favourites and all that bullcrap. (exposing your work for getting a job is a different thing, I believe.) You do stuff thinking, oh hey, people are going to like this thing, let’s do it so they can like it. Yay! You add virtual prestige to your online image (kind of related!)  and you feel your ego swelling, but are you yourself satisfied with the results of your labour? I am definitely not denying that I am guilty of doing this too, a true victim of internet addiction-which I am slowly changing, by the way. (Remember: Do or not, there is no try.)

Do things for your own sake, look at the stuff you accomplished a while ago, remember how proud you were of them back in the day. They might seem like a load of crap to you (and other people) but look closely, you might find some unexpected diamonds just lying there, waiting for you to grab them and use them to make the finest jewelry possible.

I love photography. I really do. I’m not talented at it, I know that well, and precisely because I know that, I’ve worked hard to achieve what others might do effortlessly. I am proud of my photos, looking back at how I started and what I can do now. Who knew I could shoot a whole film manually and not ruin almost any photo?

[still: people will continue to inspire and amaze me, as it is inevitable. let them flare up my passion.]

Inspiring people: katrinpi | V + V | koukoula | Benacris | seasiderain | Garret | Basslauf | tixaio | qb

||

Silvia Grav  |  moar inspiring stuff

 

Όταν χιπστερ ιντερνετικοί αστέρες σε (προ)καλούν να δουλέψεις δωρεάν

τα είπε όλα.

Freequency Project

image001(87)Διαβάσαμε ένα πολύ ωραίο κείμενο για την απλήρωτη εργασία στον χώρο των γραφιστών από το σάιτ ΣΚΡΑ-punk και το αναδημοσιεύουμε. Ένα κείμενο που βάζει και αυτό το λιθαράκι του στην απαγκίστρωση από τις λογικές της απλήρωτης εργασίας με τον μανδύα του οπαδού που κάνει κάτι εκτός του παραδοσιακού πλαισίου, αλλά μιλάει και δεικτικά για τον ιντερνετικό αστέρα Mikeius, έναν αδιανόητο τύπο όπου μαζί με διάφορους άλλους, βρήκαν το ίντερνετ ως πεδίο δόξης λαμπρό για να προβάλλουν την αυτοαναφορικότητά τους που ζέχνει κομπλεξισμό και σεξισμό.

Γ.Φ.

Ο Mikeius και το τέλος της εργασίας

Έχεις ταλέντο στην γραφιστική και στο Photoshop; Έισαι άνεργος; Την βρίσκεις να δουλεύεις σε projects από τα οποία δεν αμείβεσαι, με σκοπό να γεμίσεις το βιογραφικό σου, ώστε να έχεις τα προσόντα για να προσληφθείς σε άλλα αντίστοιχα projects αμισθί; Την βρίσκεις, τελικά, με τους φαύλους κύκλους; Αν ναι, τότε ο διαγωνισμός του Mikeius είναι για σένα!

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Speaking words of wisdom, let it be, let it be pt.II

I hope that in the future they invent a small golden light that follows you everywhere and when something is about to end, it shines brightly so you know it’s about to end.

And if you’re never going to see someone again, it’ll shine brightly and both of you can be polite and say, “It was nice to have you in my life while I did, good luck with everything that happens after now.”

And maybe if you’re never going to eat at the same restaurant again, it’ll shine and you can order everything off the menu you’ve never tried. Maybe, if someone’s about to buy your car, the light will shine and you can take it for one last spin. Maybe, if you’re with a group of friends who’ll never be together again, all your lights will shine at the same time and you’ll know, and then you can hold each other and whisper, “This was so good. Oh my God, this was so good.”

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be, let it be

If you tie every word you’ve ever heard about yourself on a string around your head, one day you won’t be able to lift it anymore.

I know you might think that you’re just sitting there, looking at some random website, reading some stupid words and maybe the world has told you who you are for so long that you’ve started to believe it. But, please, remember that you’re so much more than this.
Remember who you really are.

Just then, right in the middle of the brilliant monologue your defence attorney is delivering about all the things you’ve done and all the people who love you, the prosecution slides a note over to you, “Don’t ever forget, everybody hates you.”
You add it to the pile of notes he’s already given you, which read:
“No one will ever understand you in the way that you desperately want them to understand you.”
“You will watch all your favourite musicians kill themselves and all your movie stars will grow old.”
“Everything you’ve ever made has been trite and cliche and horrible. In fact anyone who’s ever said they’ve liked anything of yours has done so out of pity”
“One day you and someone you love will find yourself in a room and one of you will be dead and the other will wish they were.”
All of which he will later enter as Exhibit B in the long, drawn out court case to convict you of being simply pathetic and sad and useless at everything, really.
And yet your defence attorney carries on. And you know that sometimes, he’s fighting for your life.

The scariest thing you can think of, is giving up the thing that kills you. The thing you can’t live without.

It’s easy.
You just wake up and say, “Today I will write the most beautiful thing I’ve ever written.”
Then you fail and go to bed.
Then you wake up and say it again.

You are not what you think about doing tomorrow.
You are what you start to do, today.

The hardest thing to do when you go back underwater, is talk about what the sky was like.

You’ve got such beautiful words but none I can eat, none which block the rain, none which bandage my wounds, none which build a home.
Nothing beautiful, which did not work, ever became anything more than pretty.

It doesn’t hurt because if you keep hurting the same part of you again and again and again, the nerve endings all die. And when that happens, that part of you goes numb. That’s why it doesn’t hurt. Don’t be proud of it.

You forget that even the strongest person to ever live had a weakest day of their life.

I keep wondering, how many people do you need to be, before you can become yourself.

Do practical things if you want your tombstone to read
“They were practical.”
Do what makes sense if you think it should say
“Their life made sense.”
Do what the world wants if you believe in the epitaph
“They did what the world wanted them to do.”
But if you want it to read
“They lived every second they were given 
and touched the sky every chance they had, 
they burned and blazed in all the colours the eye can see 
and left a hole shaped like them in the world 
when they left.”
Then do something else.

The horror you face today will become the funny story you tell tomorrow.
In the end, everything is overcome and a life is lived.

My worry is that what you measure yourself with ends up defining you. You pour yourself into the thing that measures you and it defines you. And I just hope that one day you find out that you’re fuller when you measure yourself in love and people and moments, instead of things, adoration and money.

There are more grains of sand in the soles of your shoes than you will be given winters to dream or summers to make those dreams real.
And there are more stars in the sky than there are grains of sand on Earth.
We live in a universe so big that a dying star, in the greater scheme of things, is as significant as spilled milk or an unkissed kiss. In an infinite amount of time, everything that can be forgotten, will be forgotten.
In infinity, spilled milk and dying stars matter the same.
And if you’re just someone brushing your teeth late at night or you’re a planet breathing your last breath as you disappear into a black hole, everything you do matters just the same. Every breath you take is as important or unimportant as the sun in the sky or the moon in the night.
Scratching your ear, is a kind of miracle, depending on how you look at it.

The world would be easier if the homeless were all just lazy and all they needed to do was just get a fucking job.
The world would be easier if evil were a real thing, instead of just confusion, misunderstanding, miscommunication and misplaced desire.
The world would be easier if you could just be happy for what you had, while you had it. If you could eat memories like flowers to keep your heart alive.
The world would be easier if comfort didn’t rest on the backs of the broken, if your swimming pool was dug by soft hands that never worked a day in their life.
The world would be easier if we all just got rich and famous and we were all each other’s #1 fan.
The world would be easier if it were an automatic.
The world would be easier.
But it isn’t.
The world is hard because it requires real human effort to make it turn.
The world is hard because you may wake up today but not tomorrow. And yet no one will accept “fear of death and a futile existence” as a reasonable excuse to miss work.
The world is hard because you will have to fight for the things you love or worse, fight the things you love.
The world is hard because the things you love will kill you.
The world is hard because it was made that way by thousands upon thousands of hard men and no one wants to admit we have no idea why we’re doing the things we’re doing anymore.
The world is hard because it’s hard to forgive and even harder to forget.
The world is hard and you should just give up, right now. Just lay down and die. Nothing will ever be easier.
But, you don’t.

If it hurts you, if not being who you want to be kills you inside, just close your eyes and remember
“Somewhere else, I’m something else.
Somewhere else, I’m something else.”
And soon you will be here.
Soon, you will be you.

This is why it hurts the way it hurts.
You have too many words in your head. There are too many ways to describe the way you feel. You will never have the luxury of a dull ache.
You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much.

You only fix the things you feel deserve to be fixed, as if you’re a special kind of person who doesn’t deserve to sort their own life out because of who they are. Like your brokenness is a symptom of being you.
“I can let that wait, I don’t need to do this because I don’t deserve to have it done. My life is always only ever incomplete.”
And yet, no one deserves the full benefit of being you, more than you.

There’s no beauty in your truth because there’s no truth in your beauty.

And every day, the world will drag you by the hand, yelling “This is important! And this is important! And this is important! You need to worry about this! And this! And this!”
And each day, it’s up to you, to yank your hand back, put it on your heart and say “No. This is what’s important.”

The things you struggle with today are things you choose to struggle with. 
Because you believe that what you want to accomplish, is worth struggling for.

And I hide because there’s more to me than what you see and I’m not sure you’d like the rest. I know that sometimes, I don’t like the rest.

There is no heart you can have that another heart will not have a problem with.

“But I just want to stop feeling.”
“As far as I can tell, there’s only one way to stop feeling and that’s to die.”
“That seems a bit drastic.”
“It is drastic. Perhaps the most drastic thing there is. There are other ways to kill feelings, like drinking a lot or working hard, constantly, pushing those around you as far away as possible until there’s no way for you to reach out to them but ultimately, the only way to completely stop feeling, forever, is to die.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
“Good. You’ll be a better person for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the most interesting, amazing people I’ve ever met, the ones who influenced and shaped the universe itself, are the ones that felt too much but lived through it.”
“That sounds hard.”
“It is. It involves living.”

source: I Wrote This For You