You're so free, that's what everybody's telling me...

I've had a few mental orgasms in my days. You know the kind that just makes your brain go into "overload-mode" and you can't really breathe. Yes, of course I'm aware of the fact that normal orgasms does that to the brain aswell, but the first ones are just that - mental.

The first time was when I entered Waterstone's at Piccadilly in London. Five floors with books... I still get trouble breathing just by thinking about it. (It's not as impressive when I enter it now, but it's still a cool sight.)
The second time was December 25th 2005 - the first time ever that I saw The Phantom of the Opera. Having loved the musical since I was old enough to rummage through my parents' records and never living close enough to a theatre which shows it - the possibility of seeing it at the cinema was too good to pass up. I'm not sure if you've seen it - but when they start playing the music, that mighty amazing introduction, I cried. Wow.
In January 2006 I saw it again. This time for real - in London's West End. I was a bit disappointed that time - the female lead had a quite nasal voice. Still... The Phantom of the Opera.
Yesterday I saw it again in Copenhagen. This time it was in Danish and I thought I was going to be bothered by it, but I really wasn't. I understood it much better than I thought, and of course, having heard the music probably more than 1000 times all the songs were sung in English in my head anyway. I didn't cry when the intro came this time, but I had goosebumps all over my body. That was a clear mental orgasm.

I think there are three ways of looking at things; pessimist, optimist and fate.
The pessimist thinks that everything is gonna get fucked anyway so she doesn't really bother.
The optimist thinks that everything will turn out for the best no matter what so she doesn't really bother.
The one who believes in fate thinks that no matter what she does she'll end up where she is suppose to end up so she doesn't really bother.
Somehow I think I'm all of these at the moment.

"Dress as ugly as you can!" was the order for tonight's birthdayparty. Somehow all my ugly clothes vanished when I moved... The most ugly ones I have now are jeans with paint-stains and a big t-shirt and that really seems boring for a party. Gah, maybe I'll just go for a horrible 80's-look with a big ribbon in my hair, legwarmers, tights and a t-shirt in some hideous neon colour. My god, I hate the 80's.

Patented nano-technological brush.

This is what Nivea says about their new mascara. Seriously. I live so far from this world it really scares me sometimes.