Yassou Sarbel

I’m in a writing vacuum. I mean total blankness. My mind is totally drained out. If it was surgically operated they would find THE absolute chaos.

 When I’m like this I like to do things that put me at ease. That keep me distracted. Like watching a movie (which sometimes fails to sooth me and stresses me out even more reminding me I should be writing instead, just like that screenwriter did before his pages became moving images), or reading an educational book (who am I kidding? Since when the National Enquirer is considered educational), or listening to music.

So, tonight, Saturday night. There’s no way I write, I have come to terms with it a long time ago. I want to watch TV. It’s a big night for Europe. It’s Eurovision night. The entire continent is grooving to the sound of the songs each European country participates in this institution with. I’m here, with a huge bowl of popcorn (tradition dictates Eurovision nights go with popcorn. If you don’t have popcorn, they have to kill you) and a bottle of Diet Coke.

We have entered with  Sarbel and his catchy “Yassou Maria”. We are proud of him. We want him to shine just like he always does. We wish him the best. When he gets on the stage the whole stadium is rocking. He’s got the touch and he knows it. Surrounded by four leggy female dancers (no comments. I pretended they were not there) he gives the audience the best of himself.

And he made it. Our boy made it. He won the 7th place among 40 participating European countries. Exit polls said he’d make 12th-15th place. He proved them wrong. 7th place, a great achievement for a poor, little southern country. A great achievement for a young boy who had to compete mega stars.

At least my not-writing big, fat excuse had a wonderful outcome. I’m so happy. And… there’s no more popcorn left in the bowl. Those leggy dancers… THEY ate it.

Posted by HoneyBunny