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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10titles.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemtitles.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915</id><updated>2012-04-16T01:19:43.704+02:00</updated><title type="text">Røntgenpåstander</title><subtitle type="html">Fra tid til annen ser jeg gjennom deg, eller du gjennom meg, eller kanskje gjennomskuer vi sammen en etablert sannhet.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://franskmann.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://franskmann.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>77</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Rntgenpstander" /><feedburner:info uri="rntgenpstander" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><logo>http://home.no.net/~kervarec/Rand.jpg</logo><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-7987930339527453712</id><published>2008-09-08T13:52:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T13:54:15.332+02:00</updated><title type="text">Sånn (med tittelen: "Elegi")</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/7987930339527453712" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/7987930339527453712" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/LsdaQ-78lc4/snn.html" title="Sånn (med tittelen: &quot;Elegi&quot;)" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Kan jeg si deg noe? Det er noe jeg må fortelle. Jeg har begått den upoetiske handling å systematisere kunsten. I meg, altså – ikke kunsten i sin alminnelighet, men slik den arter seg som et...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2008/09/snn.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-3673529609788922389</id><published>2008-03-27T13:02:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T09:27:16.410+01:00</updated><title type="text">Gelatintårer</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/3673529609788922389" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/3673529609788922389" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/11iJmtQT32s/gelatintrer.html" title="Gelatintårer" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Jeg drømte om deg i natt. Om den gangen for noen dager siden da jeg lå bak deg i senga og pustet kjærlighet mot ryggen din, og presset hjertet mitt så hardt inntil skulderbladet ditt at jeg var...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelatintrer.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-3679394593117451602</id><published>2007-12-04T13:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T20:50:53.811+01:00</updated><title type="text">Stikk</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/3679394593117451602" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/3679394593117451602" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/2wvbt0s0mtE/stikk.html" title="Stikk" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Jeg vet ikke om det var av høflighet - fordi hun belærte meg og derfor var midt i en setning jeg nødig ville avbryte - eller om det var forvirringens sammenliming av ganen som gjorde at jeg ikke...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2007/12/stikk.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-2765499653375069667</id><published>2007-11-26T12:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T12:44:03.493+01:00</updated><title type="text">Middagsstund</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/2765499653375069667" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/2765499653375069667" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/KOa6EfamUeI/middagsstund.html" title="Middagsstund" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">– Merci, papa! Kan få gå fra bordet?Mor og far utveksler megetsigende blikk over spisebordet. Treåringen vår har som vanlig kastet i seg måltidet med en glupsk løves tålmodighet. Mamma tar ordet.–...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2007/11/middagsstund.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-724246622937598678</id><published>2007-09-28T12:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T12:37:14.059+02:00</updated><title type="text">Bedrøvelsens uutgrunnelige tomhet</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/724246622937598678" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/724246622937598678" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/9TO1apCpsLo/bedrvelsens-uutgrunnelige-tomhet.html" title="Bedrøvelsens uutgrunnelige tomhet" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Tristessen har ingen substans. Jeg reflekterer over den hule melankolien, over følelsen av bare å ville sørge uten helt å vite hva jeg egentlig frykter eller hvorfor øynene mine er fuktige.Det vil...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2007/09/bedrvelsens-uutgrunnelige-tomhet.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-117244259987260506</id><published>2007-02-25T23:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T10:39:06.468+01:00</updated><title type="text">Den ukjente Cleffa Emm</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/117244259987260506" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/117244259987260506" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/lAq82VnKtIA/den-ukjente-cleffa-emm.html" title="Den ukjente Cleffa Emm" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Har du hørt denne historien før?Cleffa Emm brakk folk ut av deres vante stillinger, og tjente godt på det. Han hadde ikke tilbrakt en time på skolen etter niende klasse, og hva den uvanlige...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2007/02/den-ukjente-cleffa-emm.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-116643222846430881</id><published>2006-12-18T09:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T10:03:36.606+01:00</updated><title type="text">Aldrilandesnø</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/116643222846430881" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/116643222846430881" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/tABKvuFGTc4/aldrilandesn.html" title="Aldrilandesnø" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">En kaffekopp sto etterlatt på innsiden av vinduskarmen. Vinterdagstankene hadde flapsene ute. Ute lavet det store, tørre snøkorn som vimset til alle kanter rundt meg; mens stadig ny snø kom til fra...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/12/aldrilandesn.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-115883947157434180</id><published>2006-09-21T13:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T11:19:37.346+01:00</updated><title type="text">Maktdemonstrasjon</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/115883947157434180" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/115883947157434180" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/vxt99XHNcmQ/maktdemonstrasjon.html" title="Maktdemonstrasjon" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">– Jammen så hør, da! Og tenk litt!Jeg hadde hørt. Jeg hadde lyttet. Like fullt var det hun som anklaget meg, ikke omvendt. Meningsløsheten var slående, og mens jeg tilsynelatende lot hennes...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/09/maktdemonstrasjon.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-115832721054582148</id><published>2006-09-15T15:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T15:33:30.560+02:00</updated><title type="text">Tåkefjes</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/115832721054582148" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/115832721054582148" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/LiV9yqhz6mA/tkefjes.html" title="Tåkefjes" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Hva man gjør? Man kommer hjem, bedugget, man iakttar sin sovende datter. Man forbanner seg selv for all tiden man ikke er sammen med henne. I dampen mellom en søvn uten skyld og en promille med...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/09/tkefjes.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-115521736742012230</id><published>2006-08-10T15:25:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T18:50:28.453+02:00</updated><title type="text">Slik ble jeg en samler</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/115521736742012230" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/115521736742012230" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/jAVIu2c9iAA/slik-ble-jeg-en-samler.html" title="Slik ble jeg en samler" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">– Jeg har endret meg totalt. Komplett og fullstendig.Når du sitter på en oslobenk og myser mot sola, og en fremmed setter seg ganske tett inntil deg og på ett kort utpust lirer av seg setningen over,...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/08/slik-ble-jeg-en-samler.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-115028446124087939</id><published>2006-06-14T13:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T15:50:44.273+02:00</updated><title type="text">Tømmertangentene</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/115028446124087939" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/115028446124087939" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/f7jb55Y-MC8/tmmertangentene.html" title="Tømmertangentene" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Jeg er ikke mye til skogsmann. Derfor kan jeg ikke fortelle deg stort om moldjordens beskaffenhet, om mosens forhold til himmelretningene eller om sjeldsynte dyrs fremtoning i ulikt vær og lys. Men...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/06/tmmertangentene.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-114280869183990091</id><published>2006-03-19T23:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T10:49:58.430+01:00</updated><title type="text">Numéro cent</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://franskmann.blogspot.com/feeds/114280869183990091/comments/default" title="Legg inn kommentarer" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7104915&amp;postID=114280869183990091" title="1 Kommentarer" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/114280869183990091" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/114280869183990091" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/Jvfa6B7gU54/numro-cent.html" title="Numéro cent" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Dette ble skrevet nøyaktig slik, av Vlado Rostopevic, to uker før hans død i 1977. Dette er den tapte teksten. Den er like sannsynlig som dens motsats.Min inderligste venn. Disse ordene ville vært...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/03/numro-cent.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-114122648904565609</id><published>2006-03-01T16:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T16:26:08.796+01:00</updated><title type="text">Gråt. Som på film.</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/114122648904565609" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/114122648904565609" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/LbWX-dKbQi0/grt-som-p-film.html" title="Gråt. Som på film." /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">– Hvordan gråt de før i tiden, tror du?Hun satt på gulvet med beina i kors og kikket ned på de hvite hendene sine. De fiklet med hverandre i fanget hennes.– Jeg mener… Jeg mener før kameraene, før...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/03/grt-som-p-film.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-113931768559049496</id><published>2006-02-07T13:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T14:31:34.573+01:00</updated><title type="text">Ekstra</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://franskmann.blogspot.com/feeds/113931768559049496/comments/default" title="Legg inn kommentarer" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7104915&amp;postID=113931768559049496" title="1 Kommentarer" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113931768559049496" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113931768559049496" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/QaMUSZHc59Y/ekstra.html" title="Ekstra" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Før i tiden var det fryktelig spennende når avisene plutselig dukket opp med ekstrautgaver. Iblant døde Bresjnev for eksempel, eller det skjedde noe annet som var helt utenom det vanlige, terror...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/02/ekstra.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-113863221623682167</id><published>2006-01-30T15:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T15:52:32.536+01:00</updated><title type="text">Sykmelding</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113863221623682167" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113863221623682167" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/IluViLSZRjY/sykmelding.html" title="Sykmelding" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Aftenpostens selvutnevnte (og for så vidt eminente) språkekspert Per Egil Hegge, tar i dagens utgave av sin faste språkspalte blant annet for seg ordet sykmelding. Hegge hevder det heter å sykmelde...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/01/sykmelding.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-113776644378276202</id><published>2006-01-20T15:12:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-20T20:37:38.150+01:00</updated><title type="text">Revne</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113776644378276202" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113776644378276202" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/5BzGvrIJq6U/revne.html" title="Revne" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Om sommeren, når folk gikk i t-skjorter, kunne det hende jeg klinket til dem i brystbeinet. Du vil ikke tro hvor vondt det gjør, ikke før du opplever det, men jeg garanterer deg at du går rett ned...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/01/revne.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-113699380385250179</id><published>2006-01-11T16:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T11:30:32.703+01:00</updated><title type="text">Fordi du er lettlurt</title><link rel="related" href="http://norvegicus.blogspot.com/2006/01/abort-og-etikk-svar-p-vanlige-sprsml.html#c113759054326051349" title="Fordi du er lettlurt" /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://franskmann.blogspot.com/feeds/113699380385250179/comments/default" title="Legg inn kommentarer" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7104915&amp;postID=113699380385250179" title="12 Kommentarer" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113699380385250179" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113699380385250179" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/kuObBL57cfI/fordi-du-er-lettlurt.html" title="Fordi du er lettlurt" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><thr:total>12</thr:total><content type="html">Det er bemerkelsesverdig enkelt å lede mennesker. Av dette følger logisk at det også er enkelt å la seg lede. Er du uoppmerksom på de teknikkene som finnes for å forføre, forlede eller helt enkelt...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/01/fordi-du-er-lettlurt.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-113697345179936048</id><published>2006-01-11T10:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T11:51:03.286+01:00</updated><title type="text">Sed og slikt</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113697345179936048" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113697345179936048" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/aQAwcPZ3PDI/sed-og-slikt.html" title="Sed og slikt" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">I et nyhetsinnslag på tv, jeg tror ganske bestemt det var på NRK, ble det forleden dag fortalt om det økende antallet heterofile kvinner som reiser til Danmark for å la seg befrukte ad kunstige...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2006/01/sed-og-slikt.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-113500715300599127</id><published>2005-12-19T16:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T20:48:44.253+01:00</updated><title type="text">Lys i skumringen</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113500715300599127" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113500715300599127" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/bCX76ODKSNU/lys-i-skumringen.html" title="Lys i skumringen" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Det påstås fra populært hold at man har lyktes å finne landets beste blogg. Det har man ikke.Den objektive sannhet er at landets beste blogg ikke finnes, ergo kan man heller ikke kåre den. Det man...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2005/12/lys-i-skumringen.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-113495196181568427</id><published>2005-12-19T01:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T14:22:10.990+01:00</updated><title type="text">Juste toi et moi</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113495196181568427" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113495196181568427" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/tmDMhCajIrc/juste-toi-et-moi.html" title="Juste toi et moi" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Jeg kikker ned på henne, hun ligger på sofaen med en stor vannblemme på overleppa. Rundt neseborene er huden tørr og sprukken, munnvikene flammer i rødt. Hun har 40 i feber, den tapre dattera mi, og...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2005/12/juste-toi-et-moi.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-113214503244933428</id><published>2005-11-16T13:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-11-18T16:07:09.093+01:00</updated><title type="text">Persona non grata</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113214503244933428" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/113214503244933428" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/fUSm2TBAdpc/persona-non-grata.html" title="Persona non grata" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Mon quartier brûle. Nabolaget mitt brenner. Jeg er født i Aubervilliers, Seine-Saint-Denis utenfor Paris. Her startet jeg livet. I dag ville jeg ikke parkert bilen min her.Dersom du tar lokaltoget...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2005/11/persona-non-grata.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-112895778961854337</id><published>2005-10-10T17:21:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T14:19:58.456+02:00</updated><title type="text">Duften av kvinne</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://franskmann.blogspot.com/feeds/112895778961854337/comments/default" title="Legg inn kommentarer" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7104915&amp;postID=112895778961854337" title="1 Kommentarer" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/112895778961854337" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/112895778961854337" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/uIOmvU0M5c8/duften-av-kvinne.html" title="Duften av kvinne" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Jeg ser henne på tjue meters avstand. Hun kikker ned i bakken, men jeg får likevel en tydelig følelse av at hun er vakker. Håret hennes omfavner henne i lyse bølger hvis flagrende intensitet tiltar i...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2005/10/duften-av-kvinne.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-112798520061311345</id><published>2005-09-29T11:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-29T14:27:13.813+02:00</updated><title type="text">Kjønn og navn</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/112798520061311345" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/112798520061311345" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/Qa3XbXal85o/kjnn-og-navn.html" title="Kjønn og navn" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Je tillater moi å korrigere dere litt, for her gjør dere ofte feil:Det heter en kompliment.Det heter en adapter.Dessuten er det ikke slik at firmaer har fornavn og etternavn - de har bare navn. Som...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2005/09/kjnn-og-navn.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-112747234667390021</id><published>2005-09-23T12:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-28T11:59:47.896+02:00</updated><title type="text">Tidstungt</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/112747234667390021" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/112747234667390021" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/_Xi1tdrzKV0/tidstungt.html" title="Tidstungt" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">De tallrike, små avgjørelsene du tar én gang. Skillet mellom virkelighet og inkonsekvent bruk av preteritum. Tidstunge glimt av historien din. Bestemninger. Hemninger. Demninger.Så som:Jeg begrep det...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2005/09/tidstungt.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104915.post-112669610483696266</id><published>2005-09-14T13:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-16T00:52:55.300+02:00</updated><title type="text">Verdensrøren</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/112669610483696266" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7104915/posts/default/112669610483696266" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Rntgenpstander/~3/hk9-NQofBTQ/verdensrren.html" title="Verdensrøren" /><author><name>Varog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10145576098363195380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://home.no.net/kervarec/VKAK0807.jpg" /></author><content type="html">Dette har jeg lært: Ikke kom drassende med vaffeloppskrifter når rynkefulle menn fører dype samtaler om verdensaltet.De satt der og hadde dette felles, forvridde ansiktsuttrykket, som om tankene var...&lt;br/&gt;
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(Notabene: Dette var en innledende smakebit. Besøk franskmann.blogspot.com for fullversjonen av dette innlegget).</content><feedburner:origLink>http://franskmann.blogspot.com/2005/09/verdensrren.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

