Paranoia and other pleasant things

Flesh and blood

From Friday to Sunday yours truly’s human bits were temporarely replaced by a whining mass of virus-spewing jellyfish. On Sunday evening I was finally feeling better,despite the running nose and the occasional sneeze attack. Determined not to et this go to waste, I found a nice birthday cake recipe and hacked it beyond recognition. The result looked a lot nicer than my own birthday cake:

(if you’re interested in the recipe, containing cherries, puff pastry, chocolate, choux and apricot jam, drop me a comment - if there I get more than three, I’ll post it)

However, just when I was preparing the chocolate cream Timi switched the TV on one of the state channels, called TVR2. There were commercials and my kid being a sucker for advertising and TVShop channels, she left it there. When the ads were finished, on came something I definetely wasn’t expecting - an interview with the frontman of Apocalyptica.

Who are Apocalyptica, ye of the not-clicking kind ask? Oh, only four guys playing cellos . What’s the trick? Well, they aren’t exactly playing the music you’d expect from four academically-trained celloists. They started by doing Metallica covers then moved on to sing their own creations. Both me and the husband love them dearly. (yeah, yeah, we’re devout Christians and hard rock is supposedly the music of eeeeeeeeevil. Go eat my socks. Or Robi’s.)
Robi came to watch, and during the interview we noticed a poster behind Eicca, advertising the fact that they were in Bucharest on the 31st of May. And we had no idea, for there wasn’t much advertising of it on the Discovery Channel / Realitatea TV / Cartoon Network, which get the most airing time in our house. Miffedness was all over the couch.

But all was not lost, because after the interview was finished they broadcasted the Bucharestian concert. All of it. And we rocked.

The jaw-dropping part of the evening however, came from Timi. The daughter sang with the guys. Applauded after every song, sometimes even after a longer solo. She accompanied them on our guitar (no eardrums were popped during that part, although they were close). And I swear to you, my kid HEADBANGED. And she did it like a pro. And did I mention she brought her plush kitten to the TV screen to kiss them?

If I ever needed proof of the awesome power of the genes, I have it now. Timi, I’m so proud of you.

Posted under: Timi