CAROUSEL MUSIC

The new meaning of racism.

2012-01-15T05:21:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Lars Erik Blokkhus from the band Plumbo said something unfortunate during Spellemannsprisen. I probably don't have to elaborate, unless you've been living in a cave you HAVE read, seen, discussed and commented on the horrid, monstrous affair (spot the sarcasm).

Having a song called 'Møkkamann', I would think there are worse things you could twist it into than 'Moccamann'. Honestly, when I was a kid I used to save up just to buy Chocolate covered Moccabeans, they're delicious and not a mean spirited comparison.

Wouldn't it have been worse if he just said 'The song Møkkamann makes me think of you', or something along those lines?

Seriously, this isn't racism, if you think it is you're really, really dimwitted. This was a happy and proud guy, not used to being in the spotlight, winning something unexpected and uttering something a bit unfortunate in the middle of the whole chaos.

Madcon walking off stage in a huff was childish and not at all helpful. If you want to fight racism you really won't help anyone by acting like a eight year old primadonna.

I am not even a fan of Plumbo, I'm just sick of people being scared of saying things the wrong way. Has the true meaning of racism really transformed into THIS?

Racism is when someone really, truly means that someone not of his own skin colour is worth less than himself, that some people are inferior, not because they're idiots or have done something wrong, but simply because of the way they look.

That is racism.

Making a bad joke by comparing someones skintone to mocca isn't. It really, really isn't. It was thoughtless, not because it was an offensive thing to say, but because of the reactions that just HAD to come off of it.

Aren't you tired of having to watch your mouth all the time? I am. I am so not a racist you wouldn't believe it, but I still have to watch what I'm saying, like you always feel like you have to do around horribly obese people. Being horribly obese can be considered a disease, and it's certainly not healthy. You don't walk up to someone like that, saying, 'so, had any good cake lately?'
That would be rude, most fat people aren't happy about being fat.

So, by having to watch everything you say around someone with a different skintone, aren't you then sort of making the assumption that this person is ashamed of him/herself and secretly wants to change?

I might be exaggerating for effect, I know black history is a horrible affair with unforgivable crimes commited by white people, but come on, how long are we going to let history control us?

We won't ever get rid of racism, not until everyone feel comfortable talking about each others differences without hate, nervousness or overreactions.

Chillax.

The accidentally elephant-themed blog post.

2011-12-17T10:39:00.000-08:00

Do you know that feeling of not having eaten much all day? If you add a bazillion cups of tea, two bottles of water and some milk, you sort of feel like this after a while:

But that's beside the point, I was really going to write about a funny conversation I had the other day, but then I realized that I haven't had any funny conversations lately, so I made a joke about peeing like an elephant. I think I'm waiting for the summer a lot. Or spring. Or just next year.

Oh, actually my friend told me about this dream she had. Her boobs were full of warts, and when she squeezed one a maggot came out of it. So she put the maggot on her boyfriend and it turned into an elephant.

WOW, when I put up the picture of the elephant I had no idea I was going to write about an elephant.

The only awesome thing about Christmas is I get a visit from Best Friend With The Thousand Faces. She is likely to kill me when she sees this, but that's okay because I believe in reincarnation.

Perhaps, in a few months, when I've lost all my winter chubbiness (read: cake) I'll even post a picture of myself and not just everyone else.

I have to pee.

Return of the absent blogger.

2011-12-15T06:25:00.000-08:00

It is actually a complete coincidence that the day I choose to start blogging again, is the day I wake up sick. Seeing as my last post was also written while sick, you might start wondering what sort of blogging business I'm managing here, but I assure you, coincidence.

So yeah, Christmas. Deck the halls and lock in your daughters. Or is that just here in Oslo, group rape capital? Either way, I'm not feeling it. That famous Christmas spirit. I made some garlands out of old magazines, but it looks more like someone tossed some trash on to the shelf than it mimics Christmas decorations.

I've apparently managed to alienate my dads side of the family, and my mom is ecstatic over the fact that for the first time in twenty four years she doesn't have to celebrate Christmas, because my sisters are respectively pregnantly celebrating elsewhere, and going to Spain, and my brother is on a train somewhere in Europe.

My boyfriends plan was to go to Bergen to his family, but when I told him of my plans to celebrate by myself in Oslo, he started changing his mind. I'll convince him to go to Bergen, it's good for him. And it's not like I'm going to be miserable spending Christmas by myself, I have big plans.

We're talking chocolate cake, pizza, rivers of beer and a Supernatural marathon. T'is the season to be jolly, right?

The plague according to Rebecca.

2011-10-04T06:27:00.000-07:00

People seem to think I have the flu, when in fact I have something much worse. I have THE FLU, Caps Lock version. It sucks, so I'm just going to rant about it here for a bit. I mean, why else would I have a blog if not for the chance of telling people things they could care less about?

And my tooth aches.

Basically I think I'm sort of falling apart, on a physical as well as emotional level. If I was a man I would take a shower and then go to the library to study, plague or no plague, but- Meh, who am I kidding! If I was a man I wouldn't even be sitting in an upright position, I would be lying on the floor with my arms meekly outstretched towards the bed, too worse for wear to have the energy to crawl the last inches.

I'm trying to learn 'Still alive' on ukulele, it's such a sweet song, and shouldn't be too hard. But I don't have the patience to practice for longer than like 20 minutes a day, so it might take me a while..

If I should antropomorphise the love and adoration I feel towards the musician Jonathan Coulton, it would be an annoyingly cheerful care bear riding a golden unicorn whilst throwing cupcakes made out of baby laughter and beer.

Tomorrow is math day, so I hate tomorrow, but tomorrow is also friend-from-far-away-sauntering-vaguely-hither-day, so I also love it. It's confusing to say the least.

Billy Bragg put it into words that I like: "Wedding cake and toothache, it was love and pain." Gotta love that gravel voiced Englishman.

Oh what the hell, one more music video by Coulton won't harm anyone:

Blast it all to hell!

2011-09-22T11:21:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry, but I just couldn't do it. The Norwegian, pink, stupid celebrity blogging I mean. But I do find it a bit disturbing that the minute I changed my blog to pink and started writing about my breakfast and my clothes in Norwegian, I started making money on it.

But at the same time I really stopped enjoying it, so I changed it back. From now on I will be true to myself and only ever write about depressing things and obscure Syfy shows, unsigned indie bands and books you've probably never heard of.

Gooooo emo blogs with no readers!!!

I don't care, nobody understands me anyway. I'll just go hang out in the shower while listening to Skunk anansie really loudly so no one can hear me cry.

Wow, it feels really good not having to be perky anymore!

Why do I even keep this blog? It's ridiculous that I've managed to keep it more or less up to date for...what, three years now? Bloody hell, I should just quit and focus on writing a book instead. I think it's the 'no pressure'- feeling I truly enjoy. Hardly anyone reads this, and I can write about whatever I feel like, no thread, no purpose.

One long, annoying rant about nothing, just like a Coldplay song.

Now go away, do something useful, I'm going to watch Nevermind the Buzzcocks and eat stuff until I pass out on the sofa.

Noen morsomme videoer (:

2011-09-13T13:38:00.000-07:00

Jeg forsov meg idag, såpass mye at da jeg våknet var skolen allerede ferdig for dagen. Men det har seg nå en gang slik at jeg så godt som aldri forsover meg, og når jeg gjør det, er det ofte fordi jeg virkelig trenger det. Jeg vet fra erfaring at jeg kommer til å være i hundre i hele morgen på grunn av den ekstra søvnen!

Ellers har det skjedd fint lite idag. Jeg ryddet og laget middag til samboer som kom hjem sliten. Han spiste, så på Thundercats og sovnet. Og det er slik du finner ham fortsatt. Sovende på sofaen ved siden av meg, pakket inn i en turkis morgenkåpe. Jeg sitter og har the time of my life på Youtube, med klipp fra QI og Comic Relief. Hvis du ikke vet hva disse to er, så les videre(:

QI er et slags spørreprogram med et panel bestående av gjester og et par faste komikere. Programlederen er Stephen Fry, et geni og en tusenkunstner som jeg virkelig håper at du allerede har hørt om. Han stiller spørsmål og gir ut poeng basert, ikke på hvor riktig, men hvor kreativt svaret er.
Jeg vil gifte meg med Alan Davies, han med krøllete hår:D

Comic Relief er et charity prosjekt fra UK hvor kjendiser gjør rare ting og show lager spesielle episoder for å samle inn penger til veldedighet. Her er et par minneverdige fra komikerversjonen av So you think you can dance:

Her er en veldig gammel jeg fant (1993), med Jonathan Ross, Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie og casten fra Red Dwarf m.m. Artig!

Men nå må jeg nesten se litt mer på QI og Nevermind the Buzzcocks før jeg legger meg.

Men jeg vil ikke blogge idag, jag vil bara lukta på blommorna!

2011-09-12T13:57:00.000-07:00

Men så gjør jeg det for det, for det er tross alt bedre enn å klippe seg kort og løpe naken rundt Youngstorget mens kongen holder tiden med stoppeklokke. Ikke at det er det eneste alternativet, eller et alternativ i det hele tatt. Jeg er litt sliten og trøtt i hodet som du kanskje skjønte, men det er mest fordi vi gikk gjennom litt over 2000 år i historien idag.
Man får litt sånn 'Raske Menn' følelse som privatist ved Akademiet, verdenshistorien på 5 minutter og alt det der, men de mener det vel godt selv om de har tatt alle pengene mine og gitt meg en bokliste som koster mer enn en sydenferie eller eventuelt en litt skral hest.
Jeg tenkte å se litt rundt på internettet for å se hva jeg kunne ha kjøpt istedenfor skolebøker (ikke at jeg ville ha gjort det da, ambisiøs jævel som jeg plutselig er).

Jeg kunne ha:

Kjøpt to ferier gjennom restplass.no

Geværting gjennom suspekt våpenside.

3 sauer fra Australia.

Lifesize Yoda statue.

En litt rimelig russisk postordrebrud (evt. timeshare med en venn).

1142 kilo med gjødsel.

En gitar, signert av Bill Kaulitz fra Tokio Hotel.

Og sikkert mye mer. Men neida, mattebok skal det være, to av dem!

Vel, nå har vi spist kylling og pomfri med bearnaisesaus, så jeg er mett. Jeg spiste alt med hendene selvsagt, så samboer måtte komme med våt klut etterpå, så jeg kunne tørke av hendene og munnen mine.

Jeg ble muligens oppdratt av ulveryttere.

Noe ekkelt før helgen (Eller: Min vei mot kjendisbloggeri del 2)

2011-09-09T05:43:00.000-07:00

Dette er et eksperiment, ingen ble skadet under forsøket på 'kul fjortisblogging' annet enn verdigheten min. Here goes:

Halla bloggen!!!!!!

Jeg satt liksom og skulle endelig slappe av da, etter å ha rydda sånn SYYYYYYKT mye på kjøkkenet og på soverommet og sånn da. Åsså bare tok jeg frem den posen med Smash fra igår da, som samboer og jeg hadde spist litteranne av (lolz). Åssa spiste jeg litt, sånn tre-to stykker til helt sånn plutselig så bare ÆÆÆÆÆÆSSSJJJEEEEEE!!!!!!! (OMG lizm)
Det var liksom en slags ulldott eller noe annet ekkelt inne i smashen min og det var så ekkelt for jeg tyggde lissom litt på det før jeg så det da lissom. Sånn så det ut:

Sånn, unnskyld meg folkens, men nå må jeg ut og få litt frisk luft. Blir litt kvalm av å skrive på den måten, men det måtte jo prøves ut! Ha en schtrålende helg (:

365 dager med samboer (:

2011-09-07T01:36:00.000-07:00

Med mindre jeg slår opp eller blir dumpet iløpet av denne dagen, så er dette det lengste forholdet mitt hittil. Og måtte det vare mye lenger! Kjærlighet ved første blikk, store hindre å klatre, hemmelige kafémøter...
Jeg har hatt 'The time of my life', som de synger så fint i Dirty dancing, og jeg håper samboer har hatt det ok også.
Her er den illustrerte historien om hvordan vi traff hverandre. True story:

Han kom inn i rommet og bare 'Hei!'

Og jeg bare...

Problemet var bare det at jeg liksom akkurat hadde begynt å date en annen...

Så jeg 'slo opp' med han jeg datet temmelig kvikt!

Så fikk plutselig samboer og jeg hele høsten sammen.

Og selv om han temmelig raskt forstod at jeg ikke var helt som de andre barna.

Så holdt han tålmodig ut...

Meget tålmodig.

Noen ganger ble han helt sånn på håret!

Men så...

Begynte det å smitte!!!

Helt til det ikke var noen vei tilbake for samboer.

Og selv om andre ofte så oss sånn,

sånn

og sånn.

Så er vi lykkelige og egentlig ganske adorable.

Rebecca: Verdens beste husmor!

2011-09-04T22:16:00.000-07:00

God morgen bloggen! (lol, hører Nathalie Krantz i hodet når jeg skriver sånt) Nå er klokken ti på syv, og jeg har allerede støvsuget hele leiligheten. laget matpakke til, og sendt avgårde, samboer, og har nå satt på kaffen. Man trenger da ikke vært lat bare fordi man er arbeidsløs!

Jeg tenker å søke jobb på McDonalds og Burger King, og har tenkte litt over hvordan eventuelle jobbintervju kan høres ut:

Ronald McDonald/Burgerkongen: "Så, hva fikk deg til å søke på jobb her hos oss?"

Meg: "Nei, nå har jeg søkt på jobb i alle bokhandlene, matbutikkene og hagesenterne i hele Oslo-området, og samboer nekter å la meg få flytte til Crowsnest Pass for å jobbe i kullgruve, så da tenkte jeg å se om dere var noe tess!"

Ronald McDonald/Burgerkongen: "Ja-ha...Og hva mener du er dine nøkkelkvalifikasjoner?"

Meg: "Jeg har store pupper er temmelig god til å spille ping pong selv om jeg ikke har spilt siden ungdomsskolen, og jeg kommer alltid presis og blir til jeg er ferdig (hoho). Jeg er også kjendisblogger og blir daglig bedre til å koke spagetti."

Ronald McDonald/Burgerkongen: "Og hvor ser du deg selv om fem år? Det finnes mange gode karrieremuligheter her hos oss."

Meg: "Kan jeg gå nå?"

Men det er en jobb, da, og penger er jo alltid moro å ha...

Men nå må jeg drikke kaffe, røyke og dusje, så blogger jeg senere idag om første skoledag(:

Ha en begivenhetsrik dag alle sammen!

En veldig søndag søndag.

2011-09-04T14:09:00.000-07:00

Idag har jeg ikke gjort noen ting. Eller, det vil si, jeg har sortert gjennom klærne mine og bestemt meg for å gi bort mange av dem. Jeg tenkte å legge ut bilder her imorgen, så kan dere jo bare kommentere hvis dere er interessert og bor i Oslo området eller noe (:

Annet enn det, så har samboer og jeg sett masse filmer og kjørt en tur i regnet. Vi topper nå den nesten klisjé søndagen vi har hatt med å se på de nyeste episodene av 'Doctor who' og 'Torchwood' mens vi spiser Grandiosa og potetgull!

Det mest sosiale jeg har foretatt meg idag er vel å slarve i telefonen med den vakre damen på bildet overfor. Det er så innmari gøy når en av bestevenninnene dine bestemmer seg for å flytte til Karasjok for å bli same sånn at man nesten aldri ser dem igjen.

Men nå må jeg sove, første skoledag imorgen og jeg gleder meg faktisk!

En sånn dag bare.

2011-09-03T07:30:00.000-07:00

Det føles alltid litt merkelig å våkne opp innmari fyllesyk på lørdag morgen når jeg ikke gikk ut igår. Det er visst konsekvenser for å pimpe alene i sofakroken også. Men jeg har vært kjempeflink og ryddet ALT. Nesten, unntatt resten. Stakkars samboer sover fortsatt, han drakk ikke rødvin fra sofakroken igår, men kom hjem med siste nattbussen som vel strengt tatt er en morgenbuss med dårlig selvbilde.

De av dere som har truffet samboer vet jo at han er en gammel krok som er ung til sinns, og slikt tar på når man fortsatt prøver å feste som om det er 1996 hver helg. Jeg skriver naturligvis alt dette dels for å sjekke om han faktisk leser bloggen min. Når jeg begynte å skrive, så hadde jeg litt dårlig samvittighet for at jeg ikke har gjort masse mer research for å bli en enda bedre kjendisblogger.
Men nå innser jeg jo at jeg helt naturlig og ubevisst bruker masse av tipsene jeg plukket opp igår! Jeg skriver mye om ingenting og har alle mulige slags planer om å legge ut masse bilder. Så egentlig er jeg kjempeflink.

Oi, glemte nesten å skrive hva jeg har på meg, skandale! Vel, ikke egentlig, jeg har på meg det samme som igår, har ikke helt kommet meg i dusjen ennå liksom.

Nå skal jeg vel egentlig bare drikke kaffe og kjederøyke resten av dagen,med mindre du har et bedre forslag?

Samboer på ferie uten meg ser fornærmende uthvilt ut.

Hvorfor jeg ikke bør bli invitert til 'trivelige (les kjedelige) sammenkomster'

Verdens kuleste og beste venninne og medblogger Lisbeth!

Som kjendisblogger er det viktig å gå foran som et godt forbilde.

At han holder ut 1.

At han holder ut 2.

Men man venner seg kanskje til det meste, og jeg vasker jo tross alt skjortene hans.

Hvordan man viser amerikanere Oslo så de husker det!

Min vei mot kjendisbloggeri del 1.

2011-09-02T15:14:00.000-07:00

Nå som jeg har bestemt meg for å bli kjendisblogger, eller ihvertfall en sånn som tjener masse penger på sånt, så har jeg vært rundt og gjort litt research.
Først Googlet jeg 'Norges mest leste blogger', og øverst fant jeg en som heter Tommylife. Jeg klikket meg inn på den og lærte flere ting:

1. Overskrifter spiller en stor rolle, og det er best hvis de inneholder masse ekstra vokaler og et funky smileyface. Basically lønner det seg å lage overskrifter som er enkle for tolvåringer å forstå, på den måten kan man være sikker på at man når alt det publikumet man kan.

2. Selv om du, ihvertfall hvis man skal dømme etter det enorme bildet øverst i bloggen, er en voksen mann, så er det viktig å avslutte setninger med ordet 'liksom'. På den måten fraskriver du deg enhver form for ansvar ved å åpne for muligheten til å kunne trekke tilbake utsagn ved å si at de bare var på liksom. Liksom.

3. Engelske ord og setninger er essensielle for ethvert blogginnlegg. Det er ikke så viktig om du kan stave eller om du bruker det i riktig kontekst. Det viktigste er at du viser verden at du er vidsynt, bereist og awesome.

4. Tommy skriver også en regel som jeg tror er viktig for alle oss kjendisbloggere å huske på, og det er at du aldri må møte opp på fest i samme antrekk to ganger. Dette er et godt poeng. Jeg vet ihvertfall at jeg hadde mistet all respekt for vennene mine hvis jeg så dem med samme genser mer enn en gang. Ærlig talt, hva har vi barnearbeidere i Kina for, egentlig?

5. Her gikk jeg videre til blogg nummer to på listen, Julianyland. Her fikk jeg vite at det er ikke så viktig å skrive om noe, det holder å prate litt om sommeren sin, ha et par stavefeil og legge ut masse bilder av seg selv, så får man 141 kommentarer. Jeg leste ikke gjennom kommentarene, men kan lett forestille meg den livlige debatten som må foregå der. Mye å diskutere.

6. Den tredje bloggen jeg var innom het Annais, og her traff jeg medaljens bakside. Denne bloggeren, en liten jente på alder med min yngste søster, hadde gitt opp blogging. Hun gav ingen konkret grunn, men tonen hun la an var den til en 120 år gammel fisker med lombago og trebein. Dette viser jo at kjendisblogging slett ikke er glamorøst, men en temmelig hardbarket beskjeftigelse.

7. Den siste jeg sjekket var skrevet av en alenemor som bor hjemme hos foreldrene sine. Følg gjerne denne oppskriften, jeg tror ikke samboeren min hadde satt så stor pris på om jeg lurte ham til å smelle meg på tjukka og så flyttet rett ut og hjem til mor, alt bare for å bli kjendisblogger.

Jeg har egentlig lært mye ikveld, og i dagene som kommer skal jeg prøve å integrere flere av tipsene jeg plukket opp, i bloggen min. En annen ting jeg lærte er jo hvor viktig det er å beskrive hva man har på seg.

Så here goes (se, engelsk uttrykk nonsjalant kastet inn!)

Jeg har på meg en teskjorte som det står 'Den gode nabo' på, jeg er ikke sikker på hvilket merke det er, men den er samboer sin og han fikk den av firmaet han jobber for. Jeg har også på meg en grå, litt nuppete pysjamasbukse som jeg tror er fra Adelsten, dere vet den klesbutikken som ikke finnes lenger?

Jeg har ikke på meg sko, og jeg har ikke på meg undertøy eller smykker heller. Men hvis jeg hadde hatt det, så ville du vært den første til å få vite det.

Men nå skal jeg fortsette å gjøre det jeg gjør best en fredagskveld her i Slemdal. Sitte alene i stua og høre på Amanda Palmer mens jeg drikker meg bøtte dritings på billig rødvin.

Dette er en tittel.

2011-09-01T07:19:00.000-07:00

Norske tekstere og oversettere er veldig flinke til å 'forsnille' titler og dialog i filmer og tv programmer, kanskje på grunn av sendetider etc, jeg er ingen ekspert. Men noen ganger kan man lure på hva de tenkte, eller om de kanskje gjorde jobben med en flaske JD i den ene hånden og Google translate lett tilgjengelig.
Og siden jeg er litt opptatt med å skrive ferdig et nytt kapittel i boken min, så har jeg ikke energi eller ork til å finne på masse gøye ting å skrive om her, så jeg plukket bare ut noen morsomme greier jeg fant på nettet.

Enjoy:

A grand day out: "Gromit, we've forgotten the crackers!" --- "Gromit, vi har glemt kinaputtene!"

Apollo 13: "Go for launch." --- "Gå til lunsj."

Back to the Future 3: "You must leave you iron outside." --- "Legg igjen strykejernet ditt på utsiden."

Beverly hills cop: "Don't be embarrassed if your dick gets hard." --- "Ikke blir flau hvis du digger gitarspillet."

Cheers: "Like Jimini Cricket you mean?" --- "Som Jesus mener du?"

Cindy Lauper intervju: "He's got a nice bum." --- "Han er en likandes boms."

Die hard 3: "Yippi-kay-yay, motherfucker!" --- "Hipp hurra, kølle!"

Jack the Ripper dokumentar: "A man with homicidal dentencies."---"En mann med homoseksuelle dentenser."

Og min personlige favoritt:

Blue velvet: "You fucking fuck!" --- "Din nissefjomp!"

Hardcore....

Vel, nå regner det igjen, da må jeg spise brownies.

Along came Potter.

2011-08-29T13:08:00.000-07:00

I was minding my own business, listening to 'Harry Potter and the goblet of fire' on audiobook while cleaning the kitchen top. A completely normal Monday morning. Then I decided to go fold some clean washing in the bedroom, and that's when my life turned into a bible story.
The bedroom was flooded, all the clothes were soaking wet and so, quite suddenly, were my socks. For a while I just stood there, sort of not thinking and thinking a thousand things at the same time.
Was this here when I woke up? Was I just to tired to notice my feet were wet? Do we have to move again now? Is it karma because Kim killed that spider in our bed yesterday night?
Then I got my bearings and did the necessary things. Made coffee, went outside with it, lit a roll up and called everyone I know to tell them how much more exiting my day was compared to theirs.
After that I emptied the bedroom and stared at it for a while. Then Gregor, the polish construction worker from next door knocked on my door and asked if he was the only one noticing the new indoor swimming pool. Apparently it wasn't just our basement flat then, it was everywhere.
So Gregor and I started scooping water into a bucket with a shovel and some wet towels. We quite effectively rid the bedroom of excess water, and went outside for more coffee and cigarettes. I felt like a working gal (not the fishnet, standing on a corner type mind) and was very pleased with myself.
Then we went inside again.
The kitchen was now steadily filling up with water, it was seeping out of the walls like puss from an infected wound. I pompously ignored it and went back into the bedroom, a foreboding feeling filling me (try saying that three times fast). The bedroom was yet again flooded.

Great.

Awesomness.

Four hours later we had to admit that the root of the problem was most probably not on the bedroom floor. Thus my day went, polish people came and went.
After Kim came home a new guy appeared. I'd just shared a joke with my new landlord, asking when the magic man was coming to take the water away, and then Potter came.
Honest to god, he was tall and gangly, with black unruly hair and round glasses. He was polish mind, but lets not get obsessed about the details. Apparently he was the expert.

After two hours or so, I had to admit defeat. It wasn't The Boy Who Lived, he couldn't save us. He left. It's better now, still wet, but better-ish.

Pointless post, aight? It was just an excuse to sit down for a few minutes really.

Childhood's end: The day my home town lost it's innocence.

2011-07-22T09:38:00.000-07:00

There isn't really that much to write yet, it's all just speculations. A bomb went off in town centre, several people died and more were injured. This happened approx. 3 hours ago.

Simultaneously a political summer camp was attacked by a man dressed as police. So far one girl has been shot, the kids are all hiding on the island or trying to swim to safety.

It feels like a zombie apocalypse.

Capra aegagrus hircus and Sherlock Holmes.

2011-06-06T23:16:00.000-07:00

Goats fascinate me. I think it might have something to do with how they all seem to view the world. I bet you that if we all suddenly die from a pandemic/alien attack/global warming crisis, the last thing you will see while lying helpless and broken on the ground next to your best friend, is a goat, solemnly chewing on your friends ear, looking for all intents and purposes like it's bored half to death.

Like I said, fascinating.

I also quite like Sherlock Holmes. I know he's fictional, but I'd still marry him in a heartbeat. I'm a sucker for socially awkward geniuses.
I'm not proud to admit this, but I haven't actually read the books, sorry Doyle! But I will, all in due time, right now I'm reading China Mieville, Melissa Marr and Charles de Lint, and somehow that seems enough at the time.

So I've put up some trailers and clips from different film and television adaptation, my all time favourite portrayal being Benedict Cumberbatch for BBCs Sherlock, a modern adaptation, amazing. Verrry sexy.

Also, thanks to Moffat who writes the script, the homoerotic undertones are to die for! I mean, when you take the guy who writes Doctor who and give him Sherlock and Watson to play with, what do you expect??

Quote:

John Watson: You don’t have a girlfriend, then?

Sherlock Holmes: Girlfriend? No, not really my area.

John Watson: Oh right then. [pause] Do you have a boyfriend? Which is fine, by the way —

Sherlock Holmes: I know it’s fine.

John Watson: So you’ve got a boyfriend?

Sherlock Holmes: No.

John Watson: Right, okay. You’re unattached, just like me. Fine. Good.

Sherlock Holmes: John, um... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I am flattered by your interest I’m —

John Watson: No —

Sherlock Holmes: — really not looking for anyone —

John Watson: No. I’m not asking — no. I was just saying. It’s all fine.

Sherlock Holmes: Good. Thank you.

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Sherlock Holmes: I need to get some air; we're going out tonight.

John Watson: Actually, I've got a date.

Sherlock Holmes: What?

John Watson: It's when two people who like each other go out and have fun...

Sherlock Homes: That's what I was suggesting.

John Watson: No, it wasn't. At least, I hope not.

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John Watson: I'm glad no-one saw that.

Sherlock Holmes: Mm?

John Watson: You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.

Sherlock Holmes: They do little else. [smiles]

Also, it's funny:

Sherlock Holmes: [sitting at entrance of ambulance as a paramedic throws a garish orange blanket over his shoulders] Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me!

Lestrade: Yeah, that's for shock.

Sherlock Holmes: I'm not in shock!

Lestrade: Yeah... but some of the guys want to take photographs.

Sherlock Holmes: Actually, you know what? Ignore me.

Lestrade: ... Sorry?

Sherlock Holmes: Ignore all of that. It's just the, uh, shock talking.

Lestrade: Wait, where are you going?

Sherlock Holmes: I just need to, uh, talk about the —

Lestrade: But I still have questions for you!

Sherlock Holmes: Oh, what now? I mean, I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket.

Lestrade: Sherlock!

Actually I think I'll put up the funniest ones, just to make you want to watch it:

[Watson enters]

Sherlock Holmes: I said 'Can you pass me a pen?'.

John Watson: What? When?

Sherlock Holmes: About an hour ago.

John Watson: Didn't notice I'd gone out then?

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John Watson: I'm Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone, because no one else can compete with my massive intellect!

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John Watson: It's a head. A severed head.

Sherlock Holmes: Just tea for me, thanks.

John Watson: There's a head in the fridge!

Sherlock Holmes: Yes?

John Watson: A bloody head!

Sherlock Holmes: Where else am I supposed to put it? You don't mind, do you? I got it from the Barts' morgue, I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death.

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Sherlock Homes: [While watching Jeremy Kyle] No, No, NO!! Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!!!

Here's the 2009 movie trailer, also one of my favourites:

And another with Rupert Everett as Holmes. Not my favourite, but not the worst:

Now it's time for breakfast. Eggs I think.

Some pictures because I'm all out of words today.

2011-06-02T11:37:00.000-07:00

Here are some pictures and a video from the medieval festival last weekend:

People dancing in the big tent!

Me drinking beer in the rain.

Me and my friend Helge "the king" :D

My mom and I in the rain.

My mom and I not in the rain.

My fantastic friend Pål and me(:

Tor from Patrask, a medieval byband.

My mom and Kim!

And here's a video my boyfriend filmed on his phone, not the best quality, but there's music! The strange fellow pointing and waving at me in the beginning is a friend seeing me for the first time in a year. Hence the frantic behaviour:P

Where there's coffee there's hope. And dragons.

2011-05-31T09:35:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a short break from writing my novel, simply because I sort of hate it today. I mean, you write a book, you try to publish it, the publisher gets all worked up about it and you think 'yay, soon I'll be a real boy, sorry author.' Then the consulent writes you a long letter explaining why your book is terrible, he makes some good points and some aweful ones (there shouldn't be a gay couple in it, this book is for teenagers....srsly??)

So you sit down, do research, stubbornly hold on to the gay couple and try to write a second draft. This is where I am now, and I tell you it's taking me forever. Every time I finish a chapter, a voice in my head repeatedly tells me it's crap and that I should have chosen a different career path. Like dentistry. The only upside is that the voice kind of sounds like Alan Rickman.

So instead I'm writing this short story about a shop keeper who has to hide and raise a dragon in his little antique shop. He burns Harlequin novels in his backyard because they're not antique enough for him and doesn't really believe in dragons, not even after he owns one.

It's a strange story, but apparently I'll do anything to get away from that dreaded second draft.

"Write without pay until someone offers pay. If nobody offers within three years, the candidate may look upon this as a sign that sawing wood is what he was intended for."

- Mark Twain.

It's time to pack the sheep skin, Mulder, I think he's on to us!

2011-05-27T00:25:00.000-07:00

My other half (I don't like writing 'better half', might come off as having bad self esteem) had a dream last night. We were going to a concert, and I got in for free because of my good friend Fox Mulder. Apparently he was quite into me, but I was too naive to notice, so after a while my boyfriend had seen enough and told me what was what. I don't know what happened next as he had to leave for work, but I'm hoping for a brawl.

This made me think about that one time in real life when two guys fought over me in a pub in London. I didn't really know them that well, it was back in the good old days when I still thought that when a guy wanted to buy me a drink, it was because he wanted to be my friend. Puh-lease!

Well, they fought until the bouncer kicked them out, then all of a sudden they became fast friends and disappeared together for a drink. They left me there and I never saw them again. I wonder if they're still friends? Perhaps I did a good thing that night, wearing a low cut top.

This afternoon I will be leaving 2011 with my man, leave TV, internet, hot water and toilets that flush when you press a button.
We swap them all for bonfires, jugglers, musicians and knights. And beer, lots of beer. Alcohol is the central heating of medieval times, keeps you nice and warm and not so fuzzy about whether you fall asleep outside next to a fire or in a tent with fifteen smelly men sleeping in their armour.
Normally, according to tradition I would already be up on the mountain trying to help setting the festival up, but we're two people going this year, and one of us has a daytime job. So afternoon it is.
I always felt like I was more of a hindrance than any real help anyway, carrying stuff has never been my forte.

If you feel like stopping by for a knight's tournament and a drink, visit this link to find out when, where and why.

G'day!

125 days later...

2011-05-20T05:54:00.000-07:00

When reality comes knocking even bloggers know that it's time to put aside the internet, open the door, tell it that we're not buying anything and gently close it before it gets a foot in.
Well, my reality didn't knock, it sort of drop kicked down the whole door and pinned me to the floor. I'm certain that for some strange folk this sounds quite exciting and romantic.

Well it wasn't.

Enough about reality though, nobody like it anyway. You know that thing you do when your chocolate milk has been waiting on the table untouched for a bit too long and you stir it with a Snap and crackle candy bar to mix in the powder that's fallen down to the bottom of the glass?
Well I just did that, and realized it was an awesome way to soften the s&c before chewing it. Now it has the perfect, smooth and silky texture that we all love and cherish.

I really need a summer job.

Growing up: Sometimes it's good to wait.

2011-01-15T19:04:00.000-08:00

We could all learn something from J.M Barrie, albeit perhaps not forever refusing to grow up, but just for a bit, for a few years. The way it goes now I feel like when you start school your childhood is somehow over. At least environmentally. I have overheard 7 year old girls on the bus talking, and they certainly do not sound like I did when I was their age. The language, the dress code, the pressure, it's all changing now, and has been for a good while. It's depressing, and it worries me. How will children cope when they only get to experience about 7-8 years of childhood before it all becomes such...hard work.
Because being an adult is just that, hard work. You can highlight the benefits all you like, but when it comes down to it, being a grown up in todays society is bloody hard work. Work, bills, Christmas presents, image, diets, responsibility and education. I've been thinking a lot about this lately, I'm going back to school. This upcoming Monday I become a student. I will be studying six subjects that I was supposed to be over and done with after college, but I was busy back then. Busy falling in love, busy trying to figure out why and how I was the way I was. I made friends that I am sure I will keep for the rest of my life, and I made stupid mistakes.
Contrary to popular beliefs, failing and nearly failing all of my classes was not one of those mistakes. I don't regret it, not even in the slightest. If I studied my hardest, if I did all my homework and turned up to all of my classes, I wouldn't have experienced all the amazing things I did back then. And if I decided to go back to school straight after college to redo all the subjects I failed, I probably wouldn't have been writing this blog right now, at least not in English. I wouldn't have moved to London, Salisbury and Cardiff, I wouldn't have met all the amazing people I did meet, and I wouldn't have been sitting here now, ready and motivated to go back to school, knowing that I'm going to ace all the subjects because actually I've turned out to be quite clever, almost brilliant when I decide to.
Except for in Maths though, I'll consider myself a very dedicated and hard worker (and a lucky bastard) if I manage to do anything more than just barely pass that dreaded exam.

My point is, why are people trying to hurry everything when really there is no point? Live your life while you're young, enjoy being beautiful, enjoy being naive and a bit underexposed to reality. Be a child until it seems stupid not to change, be a teenager until you start feeling embarrassed about it, then maybe you're ready to do all the stuff that will eventually shape your future. You don't start building a house by making the roof and designing the garden, you have to lay the groundwork.
Make friends, lose them, make decisions and laugh about them later when you're older, read Twilight and enjoy the teenage angst, listen to Panic! At the disco and feel like nobody understands you. Do this until it doesn't feel constructive anymore, then do something else.
Nobody is finished when they're in their twenties, that's just the pressure from society telling you to grow up. You might spend 16, 25 or 40 years realizing what your purpose is, either way it doesn't matter.

I might feel like this because I'm nearly 24 years old and am merely starting my studies, starting to figure out what kind of person I am going to become, but I know I'm not the only one. It's pointless to worry about it, because if you don't know it's because you haven't heard enough, seen enough and done enough to actually realize what you are to the world yet. Take your time, enjoy it, be young and stupid.

I have to admit that I am tremendously drunk while writing this, but I still mean it from the bottom of my heart. I mean, how else would I manage to spell tremendously correctly and not mean it, not be in my right mind?

Terry Pratchett once wrote: "They say that your life passes before your eyes when you die. This is true, it's called living."

Terry Pratchett is a clever, clever man. Even struggling with Alzheimers he is probably the cleverest person I have ever met.

Going back to the roots: A life without Facebook

2011-01-12T00:46:00.000-08:00

In two days I will delete my Facebook account. I have been a member since..I don't even know, it feels like forever. I compare the feeling to that of having no laptop. I most certainly grew up without one, but now I can't imagine life without it. This is what Facebook has become for me, so I'm taking a break. Not forever, or perhaps. I just want to see how it is not to know everything about everyone.

Maybe, in a couple of months I can meet up with someone I haven't seen in a long time, and we can catch up. I won't know anything that has happened to them since the last time I spoke with them. What a strange thing that has become, not knowing about people. I have nearly 500 friends on Facebook, all of them people I have met in person, but I only know a few of them really well. And still I know way too much about the people I hardly know. It's not even funny, whatever happened to conversation?

From now on I will call the people I want to see, and email the people I cannot see often because they live on the other side of the planet. Instead of waking up and check my account to see if anything is happening, I'll wake up and make things happen. Like writing, reading, going out to drink coffee.

I'm not saying I haven't done this since I became a member, that would have been a bit (a lot) strange, but I have been spending more and more time on FB, and I'm starting to get sick of it.

Enough about that and over to something more fitting for this very misc-themed blog.

Have you seen this animal before?

Nobody has, so we're calling it a monster. The word monster derives from the Latin word monstrum and means aberrant occurrence (something strange, unnatural), that's probably why we normally think of monsters as scary.
The circled fly on Mr. Monsters back indicates it's size. They insist it's a raccoon, but personally I think it's been washed up on the shore straight from Narnia.
What would you prefer? I choose exciting, not dull. Never dull.

Have you read any other strange articles lately, please put a link in a comment, I love stuff like that!

Toodles.

London invades Oslo- Oh, and there's a chicken hat in here somewhere too.

2010-12-05T07:51:00.000-08:00

It's been a regular Blogspot meet this weekend when Marc and Sarah came to visit from London. I can't help thinking that it must have been a tiny bit depressing going from an already cold city to another, even colder one. They're currently doing the tourist round looking at giant hands and castles, and I wouldn't put it past them to already know more about my home town than I do.

I never knew we had a museum of tiny bottles with stuff in them.

I know I should feel a bit guilty to send them out browsing statues without me, but it's so cold, and I'm hungover from yesterday. Or just tired, it's hard to distinguish sometimes. Yesterday we had sushi, beer, marzipan, beer and maybe even tequila. We lost some people during the evening, one trotted off to put on wool underwear and never returned, some people went home.
But we, the hard core, stayed up well into the early ours of the morning, dancing with chickens and frogs on our heads until it was time to pass out in our respective beds.

These are the memories we had to face today:

Awesome hat, awesome blogger

The genius behind this site, no need to stand.

Our resident German guy

German guy's girlfriend

After tequila

Thank you and Good Night.

There- and back again: A stomach flu tale.

2010-11-30T10:08:00.000-08:00

Well I'm sick. Not earth shattering, clawing my way to the bathroom, praying to God and Allah- sick. I just have the occasional conversation with Mr. Toilet B. Owl. (see what I did there?)

Truth is I feel fine now, but every time I eat something the food seems to turn into an episode of Prison Break after entering my stomach. It's not supposed to be there, it has to get out. Or, to quote one of the most awesome bands in the entire history of bandkind: "I want to break free." Indeed, that is what my food is thinking. Because it is my food, I bought it. Then why won't it stay with me? All I ever did was eat it, and that's what it's there for, right?

Or have we gotten it all wrong? What if we're doing it again? Is this Cotton Plantation Owner Behaviour all over again? Is this why my food won't stay put where I put it?

Or is it just the fact that I've started a new job in a kinder garden and all the kids are full of snot and poop?

Most likely it is the last one, but honestly, where is the fun in that?