Myślenie wertykalne polega na kopaniu tej samej dziury, tylko coraz głębiej.

Od  lat obserwuję z boku tak zwany polski show biznes i tak zwaną polską modę — i rzadko udaje mi się zachować powagę. Zwykle po prostu śmieję się pod nosem. Bo są to dwa niezwykle dziwaczne twory, których nie sposób zrozumieć. W zasadzie mamy tu do czynienia z romansem raczkujących dzieci w żłobku. Metka zamiast wiedzy Tak zwani polscy projektanci to w większości przypadków banda totalnych oszołomów. Jeśli są z czegoś znani, to na pewno nie z jakości kreowanych przez siebie ubiorów. Powiedzmy sobie szczerze: ludziom tym brakuje podstawowej wiedzy, głównie w dziedzinie konstrukcji kroju, a także, bagatela, zwykłego materiałoznawstwa. Śmiem twierdzić, że naprawdę każda krawcowa, przysłowiowa pani Jadzia, ma o wiele większy zasób wiedzy w tych tematach niż jacyś lansowani przez media panowie projektanci. Uwielbiam także standardowe opowieści stylistów z czasopism o modzie, którzy wielokrotnie narzekają, że arcydzieło mającego o sobie wielkie mniemanie bufona potrafi roz...

Lately I become more and more frustrated with customer service in various service points. The biggest issue is I think with the way shops treat their customers. I’ll be honest – shopping is a nightmare for me. I hate it. Probably because I’m an elusive phenomenon: a customer who knows what they want. Who wants to buy it and leave. And no trick will ever work on me. The nightmare in a shopping mall The fact alone that I have to wander around the entire shopping mall to buy what I need pisses me off and discourages me from doing any shopping at all. Just the same as those fucking shopping carts that keep swerving left and right and keeping them in a straight position requires the strength of an ox. But nothing can drive me away from buying what I’d set off to buy. The impudence of sales assistants is frustrating and even more so their lack of competence. Quick rotation in poorly paid jobs causes a situation in which I’m advised by a dilettante, who knows less about the product...

Everyone around me thinks of me as a lunatic. What’s more - I consider myself pretty crazy too. Rightfully so, I think. Ever since I was a child I’ve had a crooked value system. One of the reasons is definitely the fact that I was a lab rat for my parents who changed my school 4 times by the time I turned 12. But that’s really nothing in comparison. The shadow of death The only thing it caused is that I instantly adapt to new surroundings. That I don’t get attached to places or things - and hardly ever to people. But rebellion is in my blood. I first started putting on make up in primary school and the first thing I ever put on my face was a dark purple lipstick. My chemistry teacher pointed out right away that perhaps it’s a little too early. I resolutely replied that maybe it’s too late for her as at her age she should be able to do her eyeliner neatly already. As you can see, I’ve always had problems with accepting authority. Because how can you respect someone who is evi...

No, it won’t be about brutal sex. Brutal but consensual sex can be interesting and pleasant. Sometimes even fantastically pleasant! But that’s not what this text is about. It’s about someone whom unfortunately almost each and every one of us has had the chance to meet in her life. Having read about all the recent sexual harassment stories, I have him right before my eyes. Him. The man with the rapist syndrome. The conqueror syndrome You know, that guy who thinks that everyone owes everything to him. Perhaps he’s a famous Hollywood producer, perhaps an actor. Or maybe simply his mummy convinced him that he’s the world’s eighth wonder. Unfortunately, sometimes that’s enough. He’s so cool and so deeply convinced of his coolness that life cannot refuse him anything. Especially pussy. It’s a guy who doesn’t understand the word ‘no’. For whom his own erection justifies all his actions. Maybe he hasn’t always been like that? Maybe it was during all these pickup courses they taught hi...

Ostatnio coraz bardziej nasilają się moje frustracje związane z obsługą w licznych punktach usługowych. Najwięcej z nich dotyczy obsługi w sklepach. Powiem szczerze — zakupy to dla mnie koszmar. Nienawidzę tego. Pewnie dlatego, że jestem bardzo rzadko spotykanym zjawiskiem: klientem, który dokładnie wie, czego chce. Chce to kupić i wyjść. I nie działają na mnie żadne sztuczki.    Koszmar w galerii handlowej    Już sam fakt, że muszę przejść całą galerię handlową, żeby kupić to, czego potrzebuję, wkurwia mnie i zniechęca do zakupów. Tak samo jak pieprzone wózki sklepowe, które skręcają w lewo lub w prawo, a utrzymanie ich w ryzach wymaga siły wołu. Jednak nic nie jest w stanie odwieść mnie do kupienia tego, co kupić zamierzałam. Tak samo jak nic nie jest w stanie nakłonić mnie do kupienia czegoś, czego kupić nie chcę. Nachalność obsługi jest bardzo frustrująca, a jeszcze bardziej jej kompletny brak kompetencji. Duża rotacja na słabo opłacanych stanowiskach p...

Until now I don’t know why I actually did it, although I have to admit, I don’t regret it. I think I did it out of curiosity, to find out what it’s like to have boobs. I did it also out of my sense of aesthetics. Not that I found myself unaesthetic. It was simply that the desire to put on the lingerie I had always wanted to put on… was very tempting. Only a girl who is completely flat will understand what a relief it is to not have to worry anymore whether the store will have her size or if a specific bra model has push-up or whether the dress she likes will look good on her or it’ll hang like on a hanger. The bottom line is, nothing justifies the horrible discrimination and scrutiny we’re put under by clothing brands. I’m guessing many of you have wondered what it’s like after a boob job? Of course there are advantages and disadvantages of such a decision. Let’s start with disadvantages: -       the pain after the surgery is overwhelming and incompa...

I had a few days off from writing because - first of all - I like to have some time to mull over the thoughts I want to pass on to you. I love the time when my texts mature inside of me. When I observe, research, talk to people and put my thoughts into words. The second reason is much more down to earth: I have a never-ending problem with my dog. Hind-legs paralysis, bedsores and now… loose poop. My dog is trying to make up for the loss of muscles and I think because of that has overeaten a little. I’m a good dog mum so I didn’t protest - and now my existence mainly consists of washing off poop from the floor, the dog and myself. Several times a day. So you understand. By the way, I didn’t realise that poop makes you think about life this much. Comfort instead of risk My conclusions from observing my nearer and further surroundings are that people around me are nothing but cowards. They are not capable - beware, now I’ll use the oldest and most overused motivational...