André Navarro

Things I Thought As People Visited My Apartment To See If They'll Buy It

Good morning! (you fucking sadists, ten in the fucking morning…)

This is the living room. Forgive our faces, we just woke up. (I think I am technically dead, in fact.)

This is my father. (Dad, why the fuck are you still in your pajamas?)

This is my bedroom, hence the mess. (Yes, lady, it is big. Good observation skills there.)

This is one of the bathrooms. (The flushing mechanism on this one sucks)

This is another bathroom. (The one that actually works)

This is a visitor’s bedroom. (Yes, it is pink. It was originally for my sister. And what if we LIKED pink? Cunts.)

This is the kitchen, with a maid’s bedroom and bathroom. (Jesus fuck, just take a look, stop walking like a tiger is going to jump at you from one of the doors.)

This is a small living room upstairs. (Where my father could have changed into proper clothes)

This is the terrace. (Please jump)

This is a completely new bathroom. (So small I’m always surprised I can take a shower there and come out with all my bones still in place)

This is my father’s bedroom. (It’s neater than he looks)

Goodbye! (TEN IN THE MOTHERFUCKING MORNING, YOU SADISTIC CUNTS)

Scientists Are Creative Motherfuckers

There I was watching this show about Venus and how it went from Earth’s twin to Hell’s Arse. They were explaining how the lava grew so hot inside the planet it had to erupt, and erupt it did, covering the planet in it on what probably was the most beautiful catastrophe we’ll never see (except if it happens HERE, of course, and even then we’ll see it for a very, very brief moment). And a scientist said he was going to demonstrate this.

Of course, I wondered excitedly how he would do this, probably use some extremely complex simulation to —

To…

…

He used a fucking pudding.

He just put some fire under the pudding, which started to bubble a bit, and then he cut some slices on it to simulate cracks in Venus’ surface through which lava erupted.

And it looked just perfect.

…

A pudding. A fucking pudding.

I love Science.

My Projects

Okay, let me try to make sense of all the things I’m doing right now:

“Ares”, my novel: currently on its second draft, about a third of it complete. Next stage after completing second draft is revision.

My next flash animation, “Aftermath”: a grim, post-apocalyptic piece. Script is being written, ending is still being decided from two possible options.

My flash animation after that one, untitled as of yet: a heavy, action-packed piece. Music is already chosen and two characters have been visually designed, with four other characters (out of twelve) already written down.

Screenplay, untitled as of yet: this one is very long-term. Started the first draft not long ago, with most of the story already complete in my head.

Short film screenplay in Portuguese, “Vida Nova” (“New Life”): being written for a friend. First draft completed and submitted, waiting on the cast and crew’s thoughts and limitations to adapt into the second draft.

You know, now that I’ve written all this down, I feel VERY busy all of a sudden.

Making A Cheese Omelet, Take One

When I was on the first phase of my diet, I used to knock together a cheese omelet every now and again to diversify the fruit-soup-fruit-soup routine. It didn’t look great, but it was edible and acceptably yummy. So, almost a year later, on the second phase of my diet, I try to return to this habit. But I should have tried harder to remind myself of all the steps in making a cheese omelet — yes, I am such a poor cook I need steps to make a fucking cheese omelet.

I spooned some butter on the frying pan and managed to break the eggs without spilling most of them on my hands. With the eggs on the bowl, I started mixing them as I heat the frying pan and melted the butter. So far, so good. Then I poured the eggs on the frying pan and everything seemed fine.

My mistake was forgetting that I used to put the cheese over it right after that. Instead I let the eggs solidify, THEN put the cheese.

Unsticking the burnt omelet from the frying pan was a pathetic sight to see. I threw that coal-looking shit on a plate and looked at it, admitting my defeat and chalking it up to experience. Coughing from all the smoke, I made a lemonade — and I managed to get that right, fortunately — and tried eating the not-burnt bits of the omelet. I threw the rest away.

The diet goes well.