Haha!
I figured that one out.
I bet Dean Winchester's ring (in Supernatural) is actually Jensen Ackles' wedding ring. He's married to his girlfriend and wants to tribute her by wearing the wedding ring in his right hand. I suppose that's nothing new. I happened to find a shop that sells wedding rings exactly like the one Dean wears..
So girls, lock your dreams in the Box Of Dead Wishes and throw it into the garbage, because all hope has to be abandoned. Or not.
Or, of course I just might be wrong and the ring just might be a Tibetan prayer spin ring..
When people were made, there were some pieces left - enough to make one more person. That's me. I'm leftovers.
Showing posts with label Supernatural. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Supernatural. Show all posts
Friday
Wednesday
Creepy..
This time it's not unconscious, like with Ewan McGregor, who used to be a regular star in my dreams even though I only liked to watch his movies. I don't really think Ewan's that handsome and besides, if I ever had the chance to meet him, I would never try get between a married couple with kids. But I'm kinda glad the Cambridge dream was the last one I've had of him.
But with Jensen Ackles... I fuckin' hate him. Why? Of course these are the things that are told to the public and might not be true, but I have learned, that he insists people be honest with him (as do I. I can tell a lie as soon as it is told. And can't lie myself either), he does photography (which is something I like to do as well), sings and plays the guitar (and I have always had a major thing with guys who can play guitar and sing.. I have slept with two guys just because they sung so beautifully. And I've slept with three DJ's)..
I have seen some of the Supernatural episodes at least twenty times.. Why? I get to see Jensen. I get to wonder if that's the way he really smiles when he remembers something from years back. I get to wonder if he's really that much of a chauvinist in real life. I get to wonder if his smile is always that fake.. If he's a real dick IRL.. I get to wonder if he really wears those clothes IRL. I could easily check the latter by reading celeb magazines or surfing the paparazzi sites, but you know what? It's his life. I don't really care because it doesn't have anything to do with mine. The only celeb site I go to, is People. And I rarely see Ewan, Jensen or Jared (Who's also become a regular visitor in my dreams) on the pages of that (web) mag. If I ruled the world, I would jail all the paparazzis as stalkers.
... but anyway. It's so sad I'm not beautiful and don't live in Alaska (or where the hell they shoot Supernatural in). I will never have the chance to talk with him and see if he really is the way he is. And what's more sad, I will never get to try what it's like to kiss those perfect lips and see if his eyes are really greenish. AND NEITHER WILL MOST OF YOU, who daydream about Jensen..
Jensen Ackles: Get the fuck out of my dreams. I'm definitely NOT your type. I'm 26 and live half across the world and I have never been the fan -type. I don't have bright blue eyes and blonde hair, I don't have silicone boobs and I'm not rich. I've had enough of Ewan so I don't need you. Jared Padalecki: The same goes with you. GTFOOMD! Though you are really cute.. Like I have said some time earlier, if I would know Jensen and Jared IRL, I'd probably end up with Jared, who looks more witty than his overly-angelic-drop-dead-gorgeous friend and to whom I'd have to reach up if I wanted to get kissed.
But here's the thing. I have always had crushes on the guys that are tall and handsome (like Jared), that have one unique thing in their appearance (like the something strange in Jared's face) and appear gay-ish. But I have always ended up with a guy about my height, who can make me laugh every day over stupid things no one else would laugh to - and won't open the car door to me, doesn't ask me constantly if I'm in the need of something or if I'm okay and if I get pissed off, lets me rant and don't get involved. If you are like that, Jensen, feel free to e-mail me. :)
By the way.. I slept with a guy who sung Enrique Iglesias' Hero to me in 2001. Remember sisters, that's not a reason to sleep with anyone, you only get to laugh at yourself each time you hear the song.
Well, I guess I'm a sucker for musical men, whether they sing, play or spin.
But with Jensen Ackles... I fuckin' hate him. Why? Of course these are the things that are told to the public and might not be true, but I have learned, that he insists people be honest with him (as do I. I can tell a lie as soon as it is told. And can't lie myself either), he does photography (which is something I like to do as well), sings and plays the guitar (and I have always had a major thing with guys who can play guitar and sing.. I have slept with two guys just because they sung so beautifully. And I've slept with three DJ's)..
I have seen some of the Supernatural episodes at least twenty times.. Why? I get to see Jensen. I get to wonder if that's the way he really smiles when he remembers something from years back. I get to wonder if he's really that much of a chauvinist in real life. I get to wonder if his smile is always that fake.. If he's a real dick IRL.. I get to wonder if he really wears those clothes IRL. I could easily check the latter by reading celeb magazines or surfing the paparazzi sites, but you know what? It's his life. I don't really care because it doesn't have anything to do with mine. The only celeb site I go to, is People. And I rarely see Ewan, Jensen or Jared (Who's also become a regular visitor in my dreams) on the pages of that (web) mag. If I ruled the world, I would jail all the paparazzis as stalkers.
... but anyway. It's so sad I'm not beautiful and don't live in Alaska (or where the hell they shoot Supernatural in). I will never have the chance to talk with him and see if he really is the way he is. And what's more sad, I will never get to try what it's like to kiss those perfect lips and see if his eyes are really greenish. AND NEITHER WILL MOST OF YOU, who daydream about Jensen..
Jensen Ackles: Get the fuck out of my dreams. I'm definitely NOT your type. I'm 26 and live half across the world and I have never been the fan -type. I don't have bright blue eyes and blonde hair, I don't have silicone boobs and I'm not rich. I've had enough of Ewan so I don't need you. Jared Padalecki: The same goes with you. GTFOOMD! Though you are really cute.. Like I have said some time earlier, if I would know Jensen and Jared IRL, I'd probably end up with Jared, who looks more witty than his overly-angelic-drop-dead-gorgeous friend and to whom I'd have to reach up if I wanted to get kissed.
But here's the thing. I have always had crushes on the guys that are tall and handsome (like Jared), that have one unique thing in their appearance (like the something strange in Jared's face) and appear gay-ish. But I have always ended up with a guy about my height, who can make me laugh every day over stupid things no one else would laugh to - and won't open the car door to me, doesn't ask me constantly if I'm in the need of something or if I'm okay and if I get pissed off, lets me rant and don't get involved. If you are like that, Jensen, feel free to e-mail me. :)
By the way.. I slept with a guy who sung Enrique Iglesias' Hero to me in 2001. Remember sisters, that's not a reason to sleep with anyone, you only get to laugh at yourself each time you hear the song.
Well, I guess I'm a sucker for musical men, whether they sing, play or spin.
Receptor
I've been in the middle of strange events since I was just a kid - and I will share them all - as detailed as I can. Let start with the B'n'B stay when I was 7. I remember the house we went into. It was old, at least 110 years old. It had been a farm but a family started a BnB there twenty years ago. I was left there with the owner lady while my stepdad and mother went to get some stuff from the local grocery store. The lady took me for a walk through the house and everywhere we went, I started feeling more and more insecure. The lady was nice, but something in that house kept me in a verge of breaking to tears. I was supposed to get a single room and the lady asked me to choose. First, she took me to the attic. There were three very small single rooms. The first one I felt nice with lace curtains and white bedsheets. There were flowers in the room, pink, I remember. I was curios then and wanted to see all the possibilities before choosing. So on we went. The next room didn't have a window and I didn't even want to get in. The third room had a spinning wheel, a chest and a closet, bed and a small bedside table. all made of the same wood. I felt instant disgust there and ran to the second floor hallway and refused to go back to the third floor. The lady didn't ask what's wrong, she just showed me the next room. I was scared and wanted my mother back. I knew she would get mad for me behaving so badly and that made me feel bad. The lady took me to a very large room with whale bones on the wall. It was a very large room - bigger than our apartment - and the only one I wanted to stay in. So I choose that room. I guess I should have slept in the car. By the time my mother and stepdad went to take pints in the pub in the village I was left there alone. I had a book, my toys and I felt better in that large room. Until I had to go to bed. There was no sound in that house. I mean NO sound. Old houses should make creeking sounds, taps, everything. This one didn't. It was so silent I swear I felt like an elephant in a antiques shop when moving in my bed. It doesn't get really dark at night here when it's summer, but the whale bones had a strange glow on them. Then a voice. Just a whisper started humming a song. I know that song was being sung by the original inhabitants of this country, the Samis (I'm 1/4 sami too) a hundred or so years ago. It was a soft voice, like a mother's voice singing. It was supposed to make me sleep but the effect was quite the opposite. I had trouble keeping myself from screaming. Then silence again. I was scared but tired - and soon fell asleep and had terrible nightmares that night. Of course I got laughed at in the morning. But hey, I can still remember the smell of that house, doesn't it tell everyone that something happened for me to remember it?
When I was nine I saw the death of my friends' baby sister in my dream. She died a few weeks later. It was SIDS.
We played with an OUIJA board on my 10th birtday party. Of course the board didn't answer in questions such as "whom I'm gonna marry", but something answer. We all knew we weren't supposed to ask someone to give us a sign if someone was there, but we didn't believe it would actually happen to us, so we asked. It started as a knock on the front door. we thought Marianna's father came to pick her up, so we opened it. No one there. And no footprints on the snow. We got scared, put all the garden and indoor lights on but the sounds didn't stop. The knocking went on and on so we put our clothes on, took flashlights, put the lights off and ran outside. We walked to my friends house and from there I called to my mother's NMT phone and told her I was going to stay at her place tonight. The Ouija board.. well, I touched it once after that. I burned it.
This happened when I was 11. My mother bought a hotel and started running it. Later I learned that it was built on a war-time German camp. By the time my mother started the business, She didn't know it either but was soon to learn. My first strange event in that place was in the room 1. I was helping an employee to clean up the rooms and went to take the sheets of the bed in the room seven. I saw movement in the corner of my eye, so I started talking with the employee. I had a little crush on him and jumped when I felt his hand on my shoulder. A cold hand and turned around. There was no one in the room. I freaked an ran out. I never put my feet in that room again. The same day I felt a presence in the employees lounge in the back. Then, a few months later - it was saturday morning I think well before the breakfast was served - when I went to the pub attached to the restaurant. I never liked that place anyway with all the red carpets and seats an paint. I put the lights on, but it was still dark. I went to see if there was money on the floor and suddenly felt an old man watching me. I got scared because I knew then I wasn't supposed to talk to strangers and I knew how bad old men could be. I turned to face him and walk away - but there was no one there. Now, these were the incidents that I faced, but my mother got worse. She was in the bar late one evening talking with the singer lady who had performed that evening. Me and my kid sisters were sleeping in one of the hotel rooms that night, because my stepdad was visiting some friends of his and mum couldn't get a baby sitter and couldn't leave me babysitting as I was sick. I was well asleep when she rushed into the hotel room and was suprised to find us three sleeping. Mum and the singer had heard children crying and thought it was us. There were no kids visiting that hotel. There was one more time that something strange happened before my mum refused to be alone in the hotel after closing hours. She was closing the register and cleaning at the bar after closing the doors. She saw two "things" walk by to the fireplace room. She went there to ask what they were doing there, but found no one. She called the employee from the back room to chat with him. Then one of the empty beer bottles on the counter broke up crashing. She later described it was "as if someone lifted the bottle and crashed it in the table". And another one. See, empty bottles can't really break unless something helps them. A few months later a famous artist came in for a show.
The evening J's father died we went to bed as normal. Soon after falling to sleep, I woke up and was like wtf. Then J's cell phone rang. I woke him up and told him to answer the phone and before he did, I told him: "it's about your father". What is strange, the last time we saw him alive I forced J to go and tell him he loved him dearly. He thanked me later for that, but somehow I knew then it was the last time he was going to see him alive and I have never got the guts to tell him I felt his death weeks before he died and was so scared of him I couldn't speak to him because I have a terrible tanatophobia. J still thinks I didn't like his father when I tried to avoid contact with him. Somehow I know he understood. It's sort of funny that J's sister told us that they all felt terrible emptiness for the last few hour of his life, but after he took his last breath, they felt as if he was there.
And of course there are the things I've written on this blog earlier this year. When I'm typing this it's 4:30 pm, the sun is still shining out there and it's warm outside. I'm getting cold chills and all my body hair is as if I was standing in an electric field.
When I was nine I saw the death of my friends' baby sister in my dream. She died a few weeks later. It was SIDS.
We played with an OUIJA board on my 10th birtday party. Of course the board didn't answer in questions such as "whom I'm gonna marry", but something answer. We all knew we weren't supposed to ask someone to give us a sign if someone was there, but we didn't believe it would actually happen to us, so we asked. It started as a knock on the front door. we thought Marianna's father came to pick her up, so we opened it. No one there. And no footprints on the snow. We got scared, put all the garden and indoor lights on but the sounds didn't stop. The knocking went on and on so we put our clothes on, took flashlights, put the lights off and ran outside. We walked to my friends house and from there I called to my mother's NMT phone and told her I was going to stay at her place tonight. The Ouija board.. well, I touched it once after that. I burned it.
This happened when I was 11. My mother bought a hotel and started running it. Later I learned that it was built on a war-time German camp. By the time my mother started the business, She didn't know it either but was soon to learn. My first strange event in that place was in the room 1. I was helping an employee to clean up the rooms and went to take the sheets of the bed in the room seven. I saw movement in the corner of my eye, so I started talking with the employee. I had a little crush on him and jumped when I felt his hand on my shoulder. A cold hand and turned around. There was no one in the room. I freaked an ran out. I never put my feet in that room again. The same day I felt a presence in the employees lounge in the back. Then, a few months later - it was saturday morning I think well before the breakfast was served - when I went to the pub attached to the restaurant. I never liked that place anyway with all the red carpets and seats an paint. I put the lights on, but it was still dark. I went to see if there was money on the floor and suddenly felt an old man watching me. I got scared because I knew then I wasn't supposed to talk to strangers and I knew how bad old men could be. I turned to face him and walk away - but there was no one there. Now, these were the incidents that I faced, but my mother got worse. She was in the bar late one evening talking with the singer lady who had performed that evening. Me and my kid sisters were sleeping in one of the hotel rooms that night, because my stepdad was visiting some friends of his and mum couldn't get a baby sitter and couldn't leave me babysitting as I was sick. I was well asleep when she rushed into the hotel room and was suprised to find us three sleeping. Mum and the singer had heard children crying and thought it was us. There were no kids visiting that hotel. There was one more time that something strange happened before my mum refused to be alone in the hotel after closing hours. She was closing the register and cleaning at the bar after closing the doors. She saw two "things" walk by to the fireplace room. She went there to ask what they were doing there, but found no one. She called the employee from the back room to chat with him. Then one of the empty beer bottles on the counter broke up crashing. She later described it was "as if someone lifted the bottle and crashed it in the table". And another one. See, empty bottles can't really break unless something helps them. A few months later a famous artist came in for a show.
The evening J's father died we went to bed as normal. Soon after falling to sleep, I woke up and was like wtf. Then J's cell phone rang. I woke him up and told him to answer the phone and before he did, I told him: "it's about your father". What is strange, the last time we saw him alive I forced J to go and tell him he loved him dearly. He thanked me later for that, but somehow I knew then it was the last time he was going to see him alive and I have never got the guts to tell him I felt his death weeks before he died and was so scared of him I couldn't speak to him because I have a terrible tanatophobia. J still thinks I didn't like his father when I tried to avoid contact with him. Somehow I know he understood. It's sort of funny that J's sister told us that they all felt terrible emptiness for the last few hour of his life, but after he took his last breath, they felt as if he was there.
And of course there are the things I've written on this blog earlier this year. When I'm typing this it's 4:30 pm, the sun is still shining out there and it's warm outside. I'm getting cold chills and all my body hair is as if I was standing in an electric field.
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