<![CDATA[nomunchkin - Blog]]>Wed, 13 Jan 2016 13:27:10 -0800Weebly<![CDATA[A very important topic]]>Wed, 26 Aug 2015 10:35:33 GMThttp://nomunchkin.weebly.com/blog/a-very-important-topicThis is probably going to change your life forever. No worries - you can thank me later. But right now we really need to talk about a super important topic today. You can look it up on Google - but you are not going to find anything about it I promise! Which is exactly why it is so surprising, because it is obviously LIFE-CHANGING!
What am I talking about here? THIS very OBVIOUS thing right here:

If you are just a little bit intelligent or well-read, you probably know that this guy here is named ERNEST HEMINGWAY. 
Ohh, no reason to freak out, he is just one of the most badass writers ever lived, a crazy gun-loving womenizer, adventurer, and someone who is probably braver than you and me and your whole family together, even if you have a schizo brother who kills bears with his bare (or bear? haha) hands. Of course, he was a little bit cuckoo especially as he got older, PLUS an alcoholic but honestly - who cares when you... 
- When you, what? - you could ask.
I'll help you figure it out all by yourself by showing you another picture of him:

Anything? I'll help then: 


Honestly, if you are a man and didn't know that I'm referring to his beard from the first moment I said "We need to talk about something very important", stop calling yourself a man and try to find a dark corner where you can hide and cry. 
His. beard. Is. Beautiful. And. Perfect. 
Give yourself a minute and respect his beard by letting yourself be totally impressed by it. Let the feeling go through you, embrace it and then never let it go again. And please, please, please, when you talk about Ernest Hemingway talk about his beard as well. He would love to know that not only his novels are cherised and loved but his beautifully grown beard as well which I'm sure he was very proud of and took great care of. You should do the same. 

And now go and grow yourself a beard and try to be at least half as big as a man as he was. Because this world needs more Hemingways. And more beards.

Some more photos of him so you can be inspired:

<![CDATA[Your usual 'Hey there, how are you?' post]]>Mon, 29 Jun 2015 12:03:15 GMThttp://nomunchkin.weebly.com/blog/your-usual-hey-there-how-are-you

First things first: I am not a native English speaker. So if you feel like reading something very educated, intelligent and aristocratic, this is not your page. I am going to make mistakes, and you are going to laugh at me, or you are going to question the amount of commas I use. That is all okay as long as you accept me with all my ridiculous faults.

I live in Budapest with my American fiancé, and my dog, Charles Brown Livingston. He became a local celebrity after being featured on a Facebook site, called Dogs of Budapest.
 I'd say the same about my fiancé as well. I mean, the local celebrity part. No, he is not in the news or on the TV, but he is an American living in a shitty little country in the heart of Europe with a dachshund and a Hungarian girl.
So, I guess that's unique enough. He is also super-charming and the funniest man I know, so that helps a lot.

Charlie is my best friend. Obviously. He is a dog. He was born to be someone's friend. But he does have some very special features, and he is a lunatic. He likes to hump his stuffed animals and when he is finished, he eats them. Their general life-span is about 5.30 minutes. Squeaky toys? Doesn't stand a chance. He knows how to manipulate you. Like a real psycho. Oh, and he farts and poopies a lot! 
We just got him a new bag of dog food (super expensive lamb meat with apples from British Columbia) and he can't stop shitting. Well, he is healthy, at least. 
Charlie is a real creep. He doesn't like when his parents are trying to have sexy-time (I mean, I get it, which kid likes that?) but still, bro... Sometimes adults need their special time together.
Charlie? Does. Not. Care. I'll tell you everything about it later.
We are addicted to him. We LOVE to listen to his noises he makes while sleeping. And that huffy cry? THE BEST!

My man is the best thing ever happened to me in this life.
He is super-handsome. I mean it in a manly, - your pants are going to be wet when you look at him - kind of way. He has a big, full, awesome beard, sparkling green eyes and a cute, strong nose and I'm telling you - the greatest smile in the whole wide planet. That smile could solve the problems of the Third World. Or any kind of problems, really.
And this is just how he looks like. He is so intelligent, I really need someone to give him a freaking Nobel prize already! 
I can ask anything. He knows the answer. Whether it is about the life of a writer, a Venetian doge, a geographical coordinate of a place in the middle of nowhere or the differencies between two tampons. 
Oh and yes. Geez. Of course he is hilarious! All the very intelligent people are. He makes me laugh every single day. Or in every single hour, really.
I promise you, I'll collect his best jokes and quotes and show them to you, guys. I mean, if anybody ever going to read this blog. With all it's mistakes. 

So, this is how we live our life together in Budapest. 
Somehow, a boring Hungarian girl got to be so lucky to have a family like this. I wake up feeling thankful every day. 

And if you would like to be a part of it - but only a little, because I'm an awfully jealous person - well, then...