Estefania's blog

And when there is no ball left, we can still go clubbing!

Hey!

Here are some pictures to show how much we enjoyed ourselves in Wien:

To begin with, the girls fought for natural selection on the first to get the bathroom:

Then we compared leg shave and tights quality:

and set off at 7pm for a vernissage at a pastry shop to start the first evening: look at the cakes, at the paintings, at the artist, and at us!

Then we were ready to go to the Wiener Kaffeesieder Ball, aka the Viennese cafe owners ball, one of the most ancient in ancient Vienna!

We were welcomed by a cake honour parade, looked at the Opera House Ballet performers, listened to opera singers, danced a lot, rest a bit

and finished the night at 6am almost fresher than when we started!

Yesterday I went to my first physio session. I have to say that the therapist sounded very nice over the phone, and that he is indeed a very nice and funny guy. Good impression stregthened by the fact he agreed it was stupid going to a ball in Vienna in 2 days and looking instead of dancing. Pretty sound guy.

However, he kind of made me feel all the muscles that were left to dead in my knee band. And this morning, as I had to run to catch my bus, with my "Bday cake for my dear collegues' breakfast", my files and my 1-stone handbag, I arrived sweating and coughing at the office: nice and sexy. One hour left to recover and face the Queen of the bitches at a meeting. I am wearing my bitchie boots for matching purposes :)

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Stephanie, happy birthday to me!

Last week was my 28th Bday (ouch), and it was indeed a whole week of celebration, starting on Sunday 5th with my friends at home and the Parisian Spanish in the evening, culminating on the 8th with a hairdresser-reflexology-bar-restaurant marathon (no clubbing allowed thanks to my sprained knee), and cherry-on-the-cake ending with my family last WE. I just love being sploiled. And not to mention the avalanche of presents for the good girl!

Now the objective is: 2 kilos less in 4 days, to be able to fit in the ballroom gown, plus swimming and physiotherapy, to be able to waltz! I am sooooo looking forward to the ball. And wondering for the midnight lady's present: a coffee cup? a coffee maker?? a waiter??? Any suggestion?

I have a question. There is a whole fuss in France about the charicatures on the prophet Mohammad that were published in the Danish news a few days or weeks ago. I understand that the link may be made with the recent bonfires in Paris, and that subsequently the media are concerned and speak about it. However it sounds a bit like: who will now dare do the same (publishing prophet's pictures) or even make the most innocent joke or allusion to religion? Mad, if you ask me.

Now a French newspaper is publishing the cartoons. What will happen? Probably nothing (come on, there is no car left to burn, and anyway the number of policemen triplicated since the Xmas celebrations), and as I will be off to Vienna with you, I don't even care.

How is it in the UK and in Austria?

Quise empezar con el español en este blog aconsejando visitar otro blog Argentino famoso y divertido. Se trata del diario de una Porteña, y mas que nada te ries por las expresiones Argentinas que usan a lo largo de las historietas que te cuenta la señora.

Aqui os pongo una de ésas, ademas de la direccion del blog.

http://mujergorda.bitacoras.com/2/

(19 de diciembre) El Nonno nos dio anoche su carta para Papá Noel. De único regalo nos pide un frasco de Viagra de medio litro. Y aclara en la posdata: "Caríssimo Papa Nuele, para que non tengá problema a la farmachia, te adcunto la prescripchione médica al mío nomme. ¡E cuidadite! Non se te ocurra tomarte vó una de cuesta pasticha, porque va a terminá empomándotte a tutto lo renno". Lo malo es que el Zacarías no quiso ir a comprarle el regalo al padre, porque dice que le da vergüenza entrar a una farmacia para pedir un frasco de Viagra, así que tuve que ir yo. ¡Ay, qué papelón!

En venganza, saqué dos pastillitas del frasco y se las puse al Zacarías en el café con leche de esta mañana. ¡Ñácate! Y después me fui todo el santo día a comprar el resto de los regalos al Carrefour. El esquenún me llamó catorce veces al telefonito, para que volviera pronto, pero yo me hacía la distraida para que escarmiente. Volví a la nochechita, y me lo encontré al pánfilo en calzoncillos, a punto de acorralar a la chinita contra el aparador. "¡Zacarías! ¡Dejá a esa china que es de tu padre!", le dije justo cuando le estaba arrancando la bombacha.

Ni bien me vio, dejó a la china media estúpida en el suelo y me empezó a correr por todo el patio. "¡Mirta, volviste!", me gritaba con la boca llena de baba. Me dejé alcanzar atrás de un ligustro, porque justo ahí no nos ve nadie y trascartón está acolchadito. ¡Ay dios santo! Desde el ochentaiocho, que Racing ganó la Supercopa, que el Zacarías no estaba tan trabajador con una. Así que no le dije que era mi cumpleaños... Total, el regalito ya estaba hecho.

to handle this website without knowing french.

but i got here anyway.

Ulli,

Thanks so much for the picture, it looks funny actually with the portrait at the back: something like "before (portrait) / after (on the couch)". Who changed sexes in between?

Hello everyone, this is an attempt that will hopefully end up in something nice.

Didi: do you think we will look that good at the next ball?