Can I Use Baking Paper Instead Of Rolling

L you today's grandparents are passed, generally the day gawking front of the boob tube (not me, they say the hearings). Preferably, seeing Jorge Javier Vázquez Tele5 since left orphaned stop Cine de Barrio (in fact, I think no longer exists). It is true that not only do that. Some break for hours at the doctor, others in the park feeding the pigeons or game of bowls. The boldest play cards in the bar, smoke cigars and watch football. The most housewives go to the hairdresser every morning as if your family has had weddings all year round. In all that time speak of many things: Belén Esteban (usually them), Real Madrid and Barca (them), how bad is the youth today (all). As for politics, not a subject to touch very often. Beyond the usual clichés, the debate does not arise. No interest, or rather, the political class does not interest them too. Fortunately not all our elders are, but, make no mistake, there is much political illiterate resigned leaving time go at your leisure while you can get by.

Our parents very overwhelmed by work, spend the other part of his time worrying that young people do not metamos leg to the bottom. Sometimes they succeed, sometimes not. Stay to dinner, movies, make a short trip if you can, begin to pick up hobbies (slowly preparing for dear little old gentlemen sooner rather than later) and pester their children to give them grandchildren and marry (or not marry, but to give them grandchildren). As for politics, many believed that the transition was a wonderful thing and have already done their homework. Other engendered a hatred so much right that having lived through the dictatorship (of course, only expressed with Franco in the tomb) and a large number live in fear of being called fascists and anti-democrats, so they look the other way. In short, much is complicit all that is happening in Spain. Again, all is not lost, there are many parents or people of the same fifth, respectable and respected, that Spain did not want to go to hell, and struggling because it is not. As elsewhere, the mediocrity is present in greater number, so they are still a minority within the set.

And we youth, to us, this generation born in the late 70's, 80's and early 90's. The thing degenerates the younger, but none is saved. Trash television, video games, internet, el botellón, las discotecas...Todo se nos ha ido de las manos. Los hay que jamás han tocado ni tocaran estos vicios (y otros vicios aún peores que ni si quiera me apetece mencionar), mas no dejan de ser un porcentaje diminuto. Encontramos también algunos, tampoco tantos como deberían ser, que no abusan de ninguno de estos vicios/entretenimientos, por ello de compaginar vida social con responsabilidad/no matar a disgustos a sus padres (llámalo 'x') y, ya que están, ir pensando de qué van a vivir el día de mañana, si es que quieren vivir decentemente. Por último, y como viene siendo costumbre, está ese 80% maldito, deplorable, de aquellos que han desfasado más de la cuenta, que ya no distinguen lo que está bien de lo que está mal, que no son conscientes de lo que tienen ni de lo que han de conseguir, sin metas y sin ambiciones. Me refiero a los frikis de los videojuegos 24h/día, los borrachos camino de alcohólicos (por no decir toxicómanos en ciertos casos), los vagos de competición, que no dan un palo al agua ni a punta de pistola.

La política, por si algún despistado aún no se ha percatado, es una palabra tabú para muchos. No por miedo o vergüenza, sino por un desinterés y un desconocimiento alarmante. Muchos repiten las gilipolleces que dicen sus padres, sin pararse to reflect on whether or not it makes sense, others do just the opposite just to annoy, without pausing to reflect on the absurdity of their behavior, many others, directly, assume the position of "drifters" in a failed attempt to hide his ignorance all on the subject. Among young people, those exceptions appreciated, thank God, exist in all age brackets, are increasingly scarce. For young people born in the 90 the situation has reached a limit so pathetic that makes you want to lie to mourn. Physics and Chemistry is the reference point in life, his favorite actor Hugo Silva and Jonas Brothers or some rapper who has no clue but it seems to be something the music that accompanies them at full volume on your headphones.

And who is to blame for all this, this intergenerational mackerel about politics? The legs have always been most in history, so we can not blame the current problem by passing Spain. The real culprits are the politicians of left and right (historically more left than right, to be fair), mackerel and manipulate it so that this mass of people no one to defend their rights, but to remain silent and without disturbing as they roam freely. Zapatero, Montilla, Pepe Blanco, De la Vega, Artur Mas, Ibarretxe (as was), Carod Rovira, distorting the history, lying and taking advantage of the good people. Rajoy, Feijoo, Camps and others, silent and leaving trampled trampling everything, making Paripe and withdrawing before any vote is endangered. The King is one such dance, and this step will end exile or being king of a piece of land indefinitely, but not Spain, of course. Not worth to be folksy and friendly, no good.

And since we're in the World Cup, I say that I still have hope before a bleak picture. Over the past decades have attempted to destroy our values, from first to last: religion, the right to life, equality between English, authority, tradition (provided they are not Catalan or Basque) , etc. Of course, still at war against patriotism, the symbols of all. The song almost never hear, the flag is rarely seen and because it's the law (and which still meets such Act), the army would want to turn in NGOs. No one says anything that sounds patriotic, it is in danger of being branded a fascist, fascist, Franco, Nazi or what you go through the head in front of you.

But then there is the European or World Cup, and everything changes. So no more equipment than the selection (even to insist that it is 'The Red'), there is no flag that rojigualda, no more song the anthem and, at least on game day, no more t that the players are elastic. This is when you hear "Long live Spain," with Spain to death "when people cry if we removed, and cries of joy when we qualified. It is in these moments when tides of people chanting the familiar "I am English, English, English ", as one sees astonished thousands of flags hung from balconies, in cars, in bars. It is in the Plaza de Colón or around the Santiago Bernabeu where you are in that class kid happier than you because we are European champions and we can become the World and the other that asks you to lend him the flag, the same for both call you fascist months ago when I took her embroidered on a polo shirt, a bracelet or attached to the folder.

And basically all this is because, however much they try to manipulate, some feelings are not so easy to transform. And I am glad to see you reach the World Cup and people finally take off the mask and show his true feelings, even through sports. The vast majority of English, as my father, are indeed very patriotic, but in these times many do not dare to show throughout the year.

Now I just have to stop voting for those who are on their way to make this one of the last World Cup to play Spain as such, those who want to erase the National Emblem yellow stripes and burgundy representing the Crown of Aragon, the cross strings in the Kingdom of Navarra, crosses and crowns of those symbols relating to the monarchy, even to love the purple color of the third segment of the English flag.

This I just wrote is not small feat, much remains to be done if we do not sink the boat. But for now, fingers crossed and Spain go far in sports, especially football and the passion with which they live. I think some of us deserve a break, stop being the center of attention for showing our patriotism selection plays or not. Now it's up to others. It's nice to go unnoticed and do not feel an obligation to say anything, because there are another 40 million were hoarse for supporting Spain.

Antique Bookcases, Mo

DIARY OF A CALL ME PROGRE

Then I take the liberty of copying an article really good, funny and fairly representative of what a liberal veinteañoero, I've found in Blog Juanan , and although now over a year or so, I feel obliged to cooperate with the dissemination of this article. Enjoy it and I laugh so much like me.

Diary of a progressive university.

It's midnight and a Manu Chao song wakes me up. I open my eyes and I see a poster in front of psychedelia, their style of the Beatles in their later years as a group. After the initial shock of having been due until 5 am smoking hashish and drinking liter colleagues, I realize that Mom Cucaracha is the ringtone on my phone with lithium battery and last generation. Finally answer the call and are Mireia, that if I sign up with her and some friends in Barcelona who have come to visit for some beers. Not bad for breakfast, and total power to the remaining two classes, I prefer not to go now. So I have seen with a pocket corduroy pants two sizes bigger than mine (bought in the English Court), a shirt Delftones , slippers "new age" (That if, brown), and a corduroy jacket that I brought my colleague Paulo in London when he went for a weekend last month. As it seems that the day is fresh, I take my Palestinian scarf, and made a Burun, I put it around his neck. If I did not like it was cold, the Palestinian is a symbol of struggle, solidarity, and it seems to me that with it on, I take a revolutionary look not see.

About 0:30 I arrive at the place agreed upon, a stylish brasserie located in the center of the city. Michael introduces me to her friends, Meritxell and Carmen (oops, I meant "Carmen"), both very pestles. Meritxell hair was short the two one queue behind, with a bell (like cats), in addition to both ears with multiple piercings. She was short and slight, and wore a poncho that he bought those poor Indians in Peru, when she was on holiday last Easter (oops, I meant "spring break").

Carmen (Jolin, again ...). Come on, start again, Carmen, on the other hand wore a cotton skirt to the feet and a T-shirt rock band folkloroide Valencia (are Catalan, sorry, I insensible sin of one of the peoples oppressed by the English State) . But what caught my attention was his hair, looked a good clump of dreadlocks that as later recounted, he had made in 1999!, A year after I began my adventures in the Faculty of Philosophy and Letters (and are now eleven). My friend Michael by her side wearing his purple shirt, and colored tights. Michael is short and squat, but then, I happened to describe it as derogatory, and that would be fascist, sexist and Atletico Madrid.

With what I had is with the presence of a friend who accompanied them. Patxi It was a friend of Bilbao Murcia had come to settle in a squat. Her hair no bangs and dreadlocks only by the neck, baggy striped pants and a sweatshirt which puts things in Euskera do not understand, but they sure are just demands and committed. This guy is nice, it is also squat and Bilbao, and therefore I like ..

soon do the four good friends, and between hash spliff and beer on a terrace in the center, we will encouraging when the four decided to stroll through the city, to show to the guests. We passed by the city, and we put together the three others, the English flag, and Michael and I, we explained, to flush a symbol because we as a fascist in our city and our region, people are very manipulated and little awareness but is concerned to keep fighting and raising people to change things and see the truth that represent our ideas of the left, environmentalists, antirepresión, anti-military, antiglobalization, anti-nationalist (English), anti-capitalist, pro-Palestinian , anti-American, Indian, counter, Balkan, anticlerical, hermaphrodite, anti-labor, antidepressants and antihistamines.

We walking around town, and down the main street we see a bunch of people going to and from the downtown shops with their bags. We all agree that they have an allergy to all these thousands of manipulated lackeys of capitalism, they will do their shopping for more peaceful and secure INRI who have ever voted for the PP, but an offense to our conscious mind can make a person (the second is to go to church). Afternoon, fruitful and exploited, is still falling, and we continue with our speculations about how bad society is the very oppressed and we are (in fact, we even saw three police cars so far this afternoon); for they say that Eng. .., sorry, that the English State is not a police state!.

is at this precise moment when it starts to ring again Mama Roach on my mobile next-generation lithium my old man brought his latest business trip to Tokyo. We do not accept the ugly, but who does not believe that's why I'm going to sell the capital. Chema was my friend who called me to come to his small apartment in the historical (in addition to 200 square meters, living there is a symbol of anti-speculation). The plan was to take a chat and take a liter or a Ripple (kalimotxo, sorry). On the way we came up with an unpleasant story of the uneducated and impoverished is the mass of society sheepish. Turns out, she passed a building site (on top supported by a bank), some construction workers, he whistled and vile crap Iberian Carme, so that we, without thinking twice we shouted that they were macho , a façade and garrulous. In addition, there was one, wearing the shirt of Madrid, which says a lot of these characters instead of aware and fight for their rights and workers' emancipation possibly are alienated with football, in addition to this team ... rich ...

The thing was over and we finally got to the loft of Chema. We recognized from the street because he was wearing one of its three balconies, a flag of the Republic. The five friends look at the sight of us and made a knowing wink, as all conscious that we dream and hope that common. Too bad they did not live on that day in April of 19 .. Was 30? .. Well no matter, we all knew to which we referred.

Chema was waiting for us with the door open in the hall. He wore his usual horn-rimmed glasses and a black shirt "Never Again." In the hall there was a small sculpture of Buddha "purely decorative", said the addition of a sizable hookah with which it gave last summer when he was bohemian and cultural travel to Morocco. Upon entering the room we found another pleasant surprise, two erasmus Chema friendly Italian. Both were very attractive (hell, it sounds sexist, but I had to say, goblet!). The one, Lisa, was tall and dark, and was dressed in wide-striped trousers and a black tank top. Palestinian wearing a red neck and a wool cap guy Bob Marley on the hair. The fact is that dazzled me, stunned me, blinded me from the other Italian ... now I can not remember its name. I only know that he was also tall, dark, wearing jeans and a shirt brand. It was posh, which decided my little interest to a girl that sure was a superficial and believed.

The issue is that when we arrived, Chema and his friends were about to view a DVD movie to Uzbek whistled Lisa (student Dramatic Art). called Looking rest ... or something like that, I think. Of course, we signed up for the film session, but not before accommodate in the bold design chairs that lined the hall Chema. The same host is responsible for connecting the huge plasma TV.

The story was a day in the life of an old petrol station in Uzbekistan. Despite three hours long and not having soundtrack, the film, framed within the trends of psychosocial entiprorealista auteur, is emotional and sentimental, especially when it follows a car of Russian tourists and they have to get fuel, but for all its virtues, I would highlight one, the film was not commercial. Come on, between one thing and another can say that the tape of Chinese film director, I-Lan Uzbek Khasialiutzborás is almost level with the great Almodóvar (which of course is the greatest filmmaker of all time).

In this that already gave us eleven at night, and as we were comfortable and that, as proposed to go to dinner. The problem is we did not know where, as some bars were closing and we could not ensure that gave us dinner (I never understood the people who run a very strict schedule which monotony!. For this reason we decided to dine Pij Rave-Progres a Game Lounge & Club. It was a very local coils, where minimalist dinner salad with watercress and cloves from India, a few shakes of buffalo in Vietnam and a caramelized mushroom sauce with beans from Guatemala, all very ethnic and multicultural ....

The encouraging thing was the mojitos and caipirinha later, and there, sitting in plop, but we had a pleasant conversation, what if the university had its ossified structures and had teachers authoritarian demanded you go to class, that all peoples oppressed by the English government had the right to self-determination, Meritxell learned more in an alternative center of Barcelona playing the bongos and exhibitions which used to go, if there are ways communication would have to close, the need for solidarity with the Cuban people that the U.S. plans to destroy the world, and many other interesting things ....

The caipirinha and mojitos were rising, and thus the local clientele and music. Was filling with people and the environment and pushed us to the party and dance. I think it was my best moment of the night, when he could be engaging in more contact with Lisa ... But catastrophe!. It turns out that you had to go because I had to go to school the next day, so well that we were going If it was only three o'clock!. Well, it still was in the air with my Michael, Chema, Meritxell, and Patxi Carme. And indeed, Meritxell was a good time to me eyes ... maybe the night ..... Chema for his part did not stop smoking dope chocolate and ask the DJ issues, while Patxi Michael talked non-stop, in a conversation that seemed quite lively. No longer surprised by this, that at twenty minutes or so, the two lost agarraditos hand (very rare in Michael, but when a guy likes you like).

stayed so Chema, me and the two girls in Catalonia. The night continued with an environment that does not see (it was Wednesday, but the party was more obscure than I've seen in my nearly ten years of university student ...), so the girls seemed the animated sea. We were so (which no one knew is that I laid Chema and the odd trip to the bathroom).

An hour and a half later, the girls, who already looked a bit tired, we were told that acompañásemos. Chema and I accepted with pleasure, the problem is that they were already staying at Michael's house (it had gone with Patxi a long time ago), and Michael's apartment was on the outskirts of the city, about 5 km. We naturally had a firm expectation of a good night's end, so did the hard way home from Michael, arriving at the same portal. The cold water came when both girls kissed us both. That if a kiss for each cheek.

Disappointed, half drunk and put other things even we headed down that long avenue outside home. But the cold water that marked the farewell to our two friends from Barcelona that was nothing compared with what we are coming. The sky was apparently closed for the night, opened and water began to fall as Chema and I had never seen in our lives (shame on climate change). No taxis in sight, but anyway, we were left without a euro, and were still about 4 miles to reach ....

One and a half of noon. Mom sounds Cucaracha. Someone wakes me with his phone call. I have a hangover. It has made me to be late for school ... another day.