Supernatural - sezonul 5








Ooo si uite asa a venit si sfarsitul sezonului cinci si nu de mult si sfarsitul serialului Supernatural...dar uite ca mai avem un sezon plin de suspans si nu numai:x...



And some quotes :

  • Bobby: You are nine kinds of crazy, boy.

Dean: It's been said.

  • Zachariah: You're Michael's vessel. Or rather, his receptacle.

Dean: I'm a vessel?

Zachariah: You're the vessel. Michael's vessel.

Dean: How? Why, why me?

Zachariah: Because you're chosen! It's a great honor, Dean.

Dean: Oh, yeah. Life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks.


  • Lucifer/Sam: You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him. More than anything. And then God created... you. The little... hairless apes. And then He asked all of us to bow down before you, to love you more than Him. And I said, "Father... I can't." I said, "These human beings are flawed, murderous." And for that... God had Michael cast me into Hell. Now, tell me... does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right? Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it?


  • Dean: Yeah, everything Jesse believes comes true. He thinks the Tooth Fairy looks like Belushi, uh, joy buzzers really shock people, boom that's what happens.

Sam: Yeah, but convince him that joy buzzers don't actually work and they go from killer machines back into crap toys.

Dean: Probably doesn't even know he's doing it. How is he doing it?


  • Dean: You're family. I don't know if you've noticed, but me and Sam, we don't have much left. I can't do this without you. I can't. So don't you dare think about checking out. I don't want to hear that again.

Bobby: Okay.

Dean: Okay. Good.

Bobby: Thanks. Now, we done feeling our feelings? 'Cause I'd like to get out of this room before we both start growing lady parts.

  • Trickster: You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father. And Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of daddy's plan. You two were born to this, boys! It's your destiny. It was always you. As it is in Heaven, so it must be on Earth. One brother has to kill the other.

  • Dr. Cartwright: I'm Dr. Erica Cartwright. I've been assigned to your case.

Dean: You're my shrink? Well, lucky me.

Dr. Cartwright: And you're my paranoid schizophrenic with narcissistic personality disorder and religious psychosis. Lucky me.

  • Dr. Cartwright: Why you?Dean: Why me what?

Dr. Cartwright: Why do you have to hunt monsters? Why not let someone else do it?

Dean: I can't find anybody else that dumb.

Dean: Where am I going?

  • Sam: Dean, it's Valentine Day. Your favorite holiday, remember? I mean, what do you always call it - uh, Unattached Drifter Christmas?
  • Bobby: Why'd you take a picture?

Crowley: Why'd you have to use tongue?

  • Pestilence: Disease gets a bad rap, don't you think? For being filthy. Chaotic. Uh, but really, t-that just describes people who get sick. Disease itself... very... pure. Single-minded. Bacterium have one purpose--divide and conquer. That's why, in the end... it always wins. So, you've got to wonder why God pours all of his love into something so messy... and weak. It's ridiculous. All I can do is show him he's wrong, one epidemic at a time.
  • Dean: Well, I got to ask. How old are you?

Death: As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless - at the end, I'll reap him, too.

Dean: God? You'll reap God?

Death: Oh, yes. God will die, too, Dean.

  • Chuck: The Impala, of course, has all the things other cars have... and a few things they don't. But none of that stuff's important. This is the stuff that's important. The Army man that Sam crammed in the ashtray--it's still stuck there. The Legos that Dean shoved into the vents. to this day, heat comes on, and you can hear 'em rattle. These are the things that make the car theirs. Really theirs. Even when Dean rebuilt it from the ground up, he made sure all these little things stayed. 'Cause it's the blemishes that made her beautiful.

  • Chuck: In between jobs, Sam and Dean would sometimes get a day - sometimes a week, if they were lucky. They'd pass the time lining their pockets. Sam used to insist on honest work, but now he hustles pool, like his brother. They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove a thousand miles for an Ozzy show. Two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars... for hours... without saying a word. It never occurred to them that, sure, maybe they never really had a roof and four walls but they were never, in fact, homeless.


  • Chuck: Endings are hard. Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass.



  • Chuck: So what's it all add up to? It's hard to say. But me, I'd say this was a test... for Sam and Dean. And I think they did all right. Up against, Good, Evil, angels, devils, Destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point? No doubt - endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it?











De ce iubim femeile ? ...


*Pentru ca au sani rotunzi, cu gurguie care se ridica prin bluza cand le e frig, pentru ca au fundul mare si grasut, pentru ca au fete cu trasaturi dulci ca ale copiilor, pentru ca au buze pline, dinti decenti si limbi de care nu ti-e sila. Pentru ca nu miros a transpiratie sau a tutun prost si nu asuda pe buza superioara. Pentru ca le zambesc tuturor copiilor mici care trec pe langa ele. Pentru ca merg pe strada drepte, cu capul sus, cu umerii trasi inapoi si nu raspund privirii tale cand le fixezi ca un maniac. Pentru ca trec cu un curaj neasteptat peste toate servitutile anatomiei lor delicate. Pentru ca in pat sunt indraznete si inventive nu din perversitate, ci ca sa-ti arate ca te iubesc. Pentru ca fac toate treburile sacaitoare si marunte din casa fara sa se laude cu asta si fara sa ceara recunostinta. Pentru ca nu citesc reviste porno si nu navigheaza pe site-uri porno. Pentru ca poarta tot soiul de zdranganele pe care si le asorteaza la imbracaminte dupa reguli complicate si de neinteles. Pentru ca iti deseneaza si-si picteaza fetele cu atentia concentrata a unui artist inspirat. Pentru ca au obsesia pentru subtirime-a lui Giacometti. Pentru ca se trag din fetite. Pentru ca-si ojeaza unghiile de la picioare.Pentru ca joaca sah, whist sau ping-pong fara sa le intereseze cine castiga. Pentru ca sofeaza prudent in masini lustruite ca niste bomboane, asteptand sa le admiri cand sunt oprite la stop si treci pe zebra prin fata lor. Pentru ca au un fel de-a rezolva probleme care te scoate din minti. Pentru ca au un fel de-a gandi care te scoate din minti. Pentru ca-ti spun te iubesc exact atunci cand te iubesc mai putin, ca un fel de compensatie. Pentru ca nu se masturbeaza. Pentru ca au din cand in cand mici suferinte: o durere reumatica, o constipatie, o batatura, si-atunci iti dai seama deodata ca femeile sunt oameni, oameni ca si tine. Pentru ca scriu fie extrem de delicat, colectionand mici observatii si schitand subtile nuante psihologice, fie brutal si scatologic ca nu cumva sa fie suspectate de literatura feminina. Pentru ca sunt extraordinare cititoare, pentru care se scriu trei sferturi din poezia si proza lumii. Pentru ca le innebuneste ýAngieý al Rolling-ilor. Pentru ca le termina Cohen. Pentru ca poarta un razboi total si inexplicabil contra gandacilor de bucatarie. Pentru ca pana si cea mai dura bussiness woman poarta chiloti cu induiosatoare floricele si dantelute. Pentru ca e asa de ciudat sa-ntinzi la uscat, pe balcon, chilotii femeii tale, niste lucrusoare umede, negre, rosii si albe, parte satinate, parte aspre, mirandu-te ce mici suprafete au de acoperit. Pentru ca in filme nu fac dus niciodata inainte de-a face dragoste, dar numai in filme. Pentru ca niciodata n-ajungi cu ele la un acord in privinta frumusetii altei femei sau a altui barbat. Pentru ca iau viata in serios, pentru ca par sa creada cu adevarat in realitate. Pentru ca le intereseaza cu adevarat cine cu cine s-a mai cuplat intre vedetele de televiziune. Pentru ca tin minte numele actritelor si actorilor din filme, chiar ale celor mai obscuri. Pentru ca daca nu e supus nici unei hormonizari embrionul se dezvolta intotdeauna intr-o femeie. Pentru ca nu se gandesc cum sa i-o traga tipului dragut pe care-l vad in troleibuz. Pentru ca beau porcarii ca Martini Orange, Gin Tonic sau Vanilla Coke. Pentru ca nu-si pun mana pe fund decat in reclame. Pentru ca nu le excita ideea de viol decat in mintea barbatilor. Pentru ca sunt blonde, brune, roscate, dulci, futese, calde, dragalase, pentru ca au de fiecare data orgasm. Pentru ca daca n-au orgasm nu il mimeaza. Pentru ca momentul cel mai frumos al zilei e cafeaua de dimineata, cand timp de o ora rontaiti biscuiti si puneti ziua la cale. Pentru ca sunt femei, pentru ca nu sunt barbati, nici altceva. Pentru ca din ele-am iesit si-n ele ne-intoarcem, si mintea noastra se roteste ca o planeta greoaie, mereu si mereu, numai in jurul lor...*

ABDC

*Si uite ca se apropie si finalul sezonului 3 din America's Best Dance Crew...
*Ultimele 2 crew-uri meritau din plin sa fie in top two...acum nu mai ramane decat sa vedem ce hotaraste America joi (vineri dimineata pe la noi:)) ).
*Iata si cate video-uri cu cele 2 finaliste in their best moments :

BeaT FreakS ( FREAK THE VOTEEE yeahh :)) ) :







QUEST (nu stiu care e exact mesajul lor :)) )



Twilight

What can i say ... i love this movie<3 ... you should watch it & also read the books of course hehe<3

Take a look :


I Am Me



~I am Me. In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it -- I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself. I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts. I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know -- but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me. However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded. I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me. I am me, and I am Okay.~

TU...lacrima...


Lacrimă, înainte să te iveşti, pulsai în mine ca o a doua inimă. Strigai prin venele mele să te eliberez, să-ţi cerni otrava în afara fiinţei mele....



Tu lacrima plina de amar...

Tu lacrima plina de amar,
De ce te nasti iar in ochii mei?
De ce nu ma intrebi macar,
Daca vreau sa-mi atingi obrajii grei?

Imi doresc sa nu-ti mai simt raceala,
Si martora mi-e neputinta....
Ascunzi in tine durerea, regretul, indoiala...
Tu reprezinti insasi suferinta.

De pe chipul palid te-am sters de atatea ori,
Dar ai lasat in urma ta otrava.
Zi de zi pe obraz mi te strecori,
Si sfarsesti alunecandu-mi pe barba...