Purple fluff and green lint.

There are several things that have hit me lately. Like a big brick in the back of my head.
The first one is that I need sunlight to function like a normal human being. Without sun I get very tired and boring and I yawn all the time.
The second is that I really don't drink enough tea and the third is how incredibly Swedish I am. I try not to be, like it's something really bad and contagious, but I end up there anyway. Let me give you an example. I'd rather not go into a conflict - not because I don't like to reason and yell and scream, but because I don't like to make a fuss. A fuss. There's Swedish trait number one for you. Being a bother is a Swede's worst nightmare and I've noticed that if I'm invited to visit someone I always end the sentence with "if it's okay with you". Well, obviously it's okay with whoever invited me, why else would they invite me? That makes no sense at all.
Another example would be the weather. Now, I know that pretty much everyone discusses the weather at one point or another, but Swedes do it to avoid talking about other subjects.

"- It's raining today.
- Yep.
- Gonna rain tomorrow.
- Yep."

It goes on like that. The wind blows too much, there's not enough sun, it's too warm, it's raining too much etc etc. Of course, we wouldn't change it for the world. "We like the changes of season even if it means we complain about the snow four months a year."

A third trait is starting the sentence with "I'm not a racist, but..." - everyone does it and no one sees themself as a racist, they're simply just stating facts (and of course, telling people that they're not racists). Myself included. The clarification is important because to other Swedes it means that you know what you're talking about and that you're not afraid to say it. And of course, that you have nothing against people from other parts of the world. We delude ourselves into this kind of thinking because we eat foreign food, drive foreign cars and because our neighbour is from Taiwan (speaking perfect Swedish of course and always picking up after the dog). I assume the rest of the world see straight through it, but at least they're nice enough to not tell us and burst our bubble.

wish you the best

Every now and then I consider entering the world of politics. The goal would be to rise to the post as Minister of Foreign Affairs, that's something I'd like. Speaking to people all over the world and meeting new people almost every day. All this while I tell the people in the country I'm representing that "we're working on it", "we don't have the numbers at this moment" and "well, there are a lot of numbers in the dark here" - not sure if that's the English way of saying it, but it'll do for now. (It means that there are a lot of victims/drugs/whatever that haven't been brought to the records.)

Then again... the life of a politician does seem rather boring. You don't really decide anything for yourself and there are always meetings and meetings and more meetings. Not to mention the lousy public speakers that most politicians are - imagine listening to that day out and day in. Sure, the money's lovely, but the mental sanity? Is it worth it?

Hrm, this explains so much about politicians... I think I'll stay off it for now.

Aurora

Allow me to tell you something that really made my day.

This afternoon I drove by a middle-aged man driving around in a convertible with the roof down. It's about ten degrees above zero and half storm, but he's still doing it. I personally couldn't understand why anyone would do it in such weather, but I tried to accept that maybe he enjoys getting his ears freezed to cold blackness. Then it started raining... You know the kind of rain that's so heavy you drop several miles below the speed-limit and have trouble seeing your wind-shield wiper? Yes, that kind of rain. Mr Convertible 2011 still had his roof down. I bet he wished he hadn't...

Blue Books

I've never made cupcakes in my life. I've looked at different variations a million times but I've never actually made any of my own. Ever. It's not that I don't want to, it's just that it seems like such a waste of resources if they'd be fucked up on the first try. Yes, I know that practice makes perfect, but I want perfection now! I want to skip the whole part of working on it and just make it perfect straight away. Of course, that won't happen. Mostly because that kind of thing hasn't been invented yet. Would be rather boring though, being the best at everything as soon as you use the thingie. And it would be available for everyone so you wouldn't be alone at being the best either. I'm not sure I like that. I mean, surely the whole point of being the best is being the best. Number one. The one on top.

I guess I just have to work harder and practice more. As a friend of mine asked "why don't you start with modelling clay?". I don't know... it's never occured to me...

Bubbles!

There are some things in this world that I can't help but wonder if they have any use at all. Like an ipod-cover in the form of a hooded sweater. Sure, it's cute, but is it really necessary? No, not really.

Then there are the things that are impossible to live without. Like food. It's scientifically proven that it's impossible to live without food. No matter if it's plants, meat or sunlight - every living being needs nutrition.

I always said that if I ever got filthy, stinking rich I'd buy a Koenigsegg (car). I'm gonna rephrase that. If I ever get filthy, stinking rich I'm gonna buy a refrigerator. This refrigerator. Then I'm gonna buy the car.

(http://www.yankodesign.com/2010/06/21/bio-robot-refrigerator/)

Seriously, isn't this the coolest thing you've ever seen?

butterflies

"In the realm of the supernatural, it has been proposed that Titanic sank
due to a mummy's curse."

Of course it has... I don't really know why I'm surprised, but I guess that if there was a supernatural cause of the incident, I somehow doubt it would be caused by a mummy. It seems more plausible that it would've been some ancient and angry ghost who got disturbed and decided to kill everyone. Or a native American gravesite which got ruined by Englishmen and for that reason no English ship was allowed to enter the US according to the disturbed spirits. You know, I think it was aliens. Yes, the aliens did it. Just after they woke up from their sleep within the pyramids. I think they accidentally ruined Titanic on their way home. But that's just me...

Forever

When I get rich I plan to rent a big arena and invite a bunch of people and just force them to listen to my beautiful voice. I wonder if I can work on it in time for this fantastic performance. I mean, yes, it will take a certain amount of time to get rich, but as you know I can't sing. Well. What I mean is that everyone can sing, it's just that some people sing better than others. And some people just shouldn't sing. At all. I belong to the last category and even though I kick butts at karaoke I'm still not sure I would like to listen to my own voice over the speakers. In an arena. With amazing sound.

You know what... I'll get back to you on this.

Frostbitch

Have you ever played Tetris? Well, of course you have. Everyone have at least once. I used to be really good at it. Used to play for ages. In fact, I used to play Tetris so much that after a while I saw the pieces falling when I was closing my eyes. It was incredibly annoying when I wanted to sleep. I also saw pieces fitting at the end of the margin in books whenever I was reading. "We can have that piece there... this piece can fit in there..." By then I realised that maybe I've crossed some sort of line here from normal enjoyment into fullgrown addiction. I haven't played Tetris since. Well, until yesterday. It's not as much fun as I remember and that made me think. Is Tetris ever fun? I don't think it is. I think it starts with a "might as well do this since I got nothing better to do" and ends with a "only one more line..." after neglecting hours and hours of stuff one was meant to do. This is why I don't play Tetris anymore. That and the fact that I lost my thingie with Tetris on it and I don't like to play Tetris on my pc - it feels like such a waste of time.

Stars

Yesterday night (or early this morning if you wanna be picky) I had a vision. It was a wonderous, glorious vision and I had to stop myself from running around like a mad person trying to make it come true. Instead I went to sleep and woke up wonderfully happy this morning (afternoon) all ready to try if my vision was true. I plugged in a cord to my supernintendo and it worked! It's like a dream come true! The bastard turns 20 next year and it bloody works! Okay, so I had a slight problem with the screen, but I think that's more cultural differences between the TV and the console, then the actual console itself. It was like being born again. With horrible graphics.

Hulk smash!

I've been thinking. Yes, thank you, my head hurts a little, but not that much. I think it's a practise-thing. The more you practise thinking, the less it hurts. The point is that I was thinking. About how easy it would be to disappear if you really wanted to. I mean, first I would buy a pack of hair colour and dye my hair. Then I would remove all the money from my bank account over a series of days. After that I would exchange the currency to American dollars - they're valid in so many more countries than the Swedish Krona. After that I would make sure that I've left everything electronical at home - I mean, let's be honest, people who want to be found bring their cellphones - and buy a ticket for the train or boat, something that doesn't require an ID.
Now, let's assume that I don't want to go to Switzerland (where I could just hide in a coo-coo-clock and eat chocolate all day long). I'd get down to Africa and hide somewhere without electricity. Sure, I'd be known as "the white chick" or something like that, but I would disappear from Europe. And I'd be fucking hard to find. I'm just saying...

Fluffball!

The Star Wars-saga is a fantastic story. It's an incredibly detailed world where George Lucas have full merchandising rights. Well done 20th Century Fox. Not a big number you missed out on there. Anyway, despite the fun and awe-factor this epic tale it's a really fucked up story. Number four to six (or original story) have two siblings where one is in love with the other. They even share a kiss! You know, in the old days that was considered a crime. "Blood shame" they called it.
Then the first three movies, or the terrible terrible mistake, whichever you want. In the first movie Ms. Padmé Amidala is about the same age that she is in the other two, whereas Anakin Skywalker is a kid in the first movie, then a teenager and then a guy in his early twenties. Now, either Ms. Amidala is some sort of superbeing who doesn't age or she's the worst pedophelian the moviescreen's seen in a long time. How Natalie Portman's movie career survived this really is beyond me, but well done.

Long live Jar-Jar Binks! Mee-sa so sorry. Enough said.

stains

There's something I've been wondering for a while now. When did actions stop having reactions and consequences? Did the world just wake up one day and decide that "from now on every consequence will be illegal"? I just don't get it. Did people get more stupid in the past ten years? Take people who jump up on top of trains for example. Let's say they're two this time. They're immensely surprised when one of them dies due to an electric shock and you see the second person in tears in the news stating "I never thought this would happen". Well... let me tell you how it works in terms that you can understand. Trains run on electricity. Electricity is bad. Stay the fuck away from it.

I don't know. Maybe I'm expecting too much from people. Maybe I want to think that they're not all idiots without brains, but sometimes I just can't help but wonder... It might be time for the Flasher soon. Defender of consequence and the right to walk around in underwear in public.

Dandelions in the Wind.

I feel like I'm in a strange movie from the 1950's. Not because I'm wearing a red dress with white dots (I'm not) or because I can hear new music on the jukebox (there's none here). No, it's because of the white lab coat I'm wearing. For some reason it makes me feel like I'm a nurse in a 1950's hospital. It's shapeless, go down below the knees and is just incredibly ugly. Then again, I'm working in a lab at 11:24pm so who am I to complain about the way I'm dressed. I doubt anyone will care anyway. Between you and me, I do feel kinda cool being in that 50's movie. I think I'll be the evil nurse. For some reason I always wanted to be the evil character. It seems so much more fun than being the good guy. You get to wear cooler clothes, do freakier things and you can tell people to go where the pepper grows (aren't Swedish insults just fantastic?) - it sounds wonderful to me! Then again... could my superhero alter ego, the Flasher, be evil? I mean, a superhero can't be evil, can she? Doesn't that sort of go against the whole rule of being a superhero? Hrm, I'll get back to you on this. Together with a really cool outfit. Just for you.

Baloon animals

"My grandfather was Jewish so I'm a quarter Jewish." There's nothing special about that, it's just the way it is. However: "my grandmother was Muslim so I'm a quarter Muslim" or "my mother is a Hindu so I'm half Hindu" doesn't work as well. Why is that? You can't inherit religion like you can with eye colour or colour blindness. It's not something at the tip of the x-cromosome that injects you with religion. You can grow up with the culture and the traditions of a religion, but you can't inherit it, it's technically impossible. Yet people don't seem to know this. They seem to think that it's perfectly alright to call themselves "a quarter Jewish" like others would refer to themselves as a "quarter Irish". I've known a lot of Muslims in my days and not a single one of them have ever referred to themselves as "half/quarter/three eights Jewish". Maybe I should refer to myself as a "quarter Christian". Not that I know for sure if my grandparents were Christians, but I assume more or less everyone in Sweden was 80 years ago. Then again, considering only one of my grandparents was Swedish maybe I have parts of other religions in me aswell. I might be both Catholic and Protestant (yes yes, I know it's the same thing and that they differ on divorce and contraception, but it's more fun this way), Jewish, Muslim. Who knows - I might even be a Buddhist or a Hindu! Oh, the suspense!

Bird is the word

This will be a shortie considering the wall of text previously forced on you. I just wanted to show you should love Liam Neeson.

• "I never did think of myself as handsome - terribly attractive, yes, but not handsome."


• "Some mornings you wake up and think, 'Gee, I look handsome today.' Other days I think, 'What am I doing in the movies? I wanna go back to Ireland and drive a forklift'."


• "Acting is invigorating. But I don't analyze it too much. It's like a dog smelling where it's going to do its toilet in the morning."
  
  And my personal favourite:
  


• "In Los Angeles, it's like they jog for two hours a day and then they think they're morally right. That's when you want to choke people, you know?"

NOW LOVE!

Cluedo

I have a scenario for you about two families. Let's call them "Smith" and "Jones".

The Jones' family are going away on vacation and need someone to take care of their dogs while they're away. The Smith's offer to doggysit and they stay in the Jones' house while they're away. (All agreed, of course.) The Jones' bring four of their children with them on the vacation, one daughter of 23, one of 19 and one of 10, as well as a son of 16. The two older daughter's are Mrs. Jones' from a previous marriage and the son is Mr. Jones' from a previous marriage. Mrs. Jones also had an older son and Mr. Jones an older daughter. (The son is on speaking terms with the family, but the daughter hasn't been since Mr. Jones' last wife died.)

The families part ways on a happy note and the Jones' drive away for their vacation.

When they get back they find the window in the 16-year old boy's room opened and it's rained in. They've also found a used condom on the floor and the door to the back garden is broken. They accuse the Smith's of having sex in the boy's room and then leaving the condom there. They also say that they've ruined the back door completely and that it will cost a lot of money to get it fixed. Money that they owe the Smith's and that the Smith's will now not get back. A day passes and then they call the Smith's to tell them that they're found another condom in the boy's room. They accused the Smith's of having sex orgies while they were away.
Mrs. Smith go to the house to recover a lost pillow, but find that she won't be let into the house. Luckily Mrs. Jones comes at the same time and reluctantly lets Mrs. Smith have her pillow. She then mentions that she thought they were friends and that she can't understand how the Smith's could do this to her and her family. Mrs. Smith points out that the 23-year old daughter's boyfriend also had keys to the house and that he went home on his lunches to walk the dogs. Mrs. Jones wonders if Mrs. Smith really thinks that he would lie to her and says that she's making things up. Mrs. Smith answers that someone is lying and it sure as hell isn't her. (Mrs. Smith later told me that Mrs. Jones had told her that Mr. Jones' daughter - the one who didn't speak to the family - had a habit of hiding used panty liners all around her room. Under the bed, behind books, in speakers. She also told me that she never saw any condoms while being in the house.)

The friendship is now over and Mr. Jones have called Mrs. Smith to make sure that she knows that she's been a plague on their family and that she can just forget getting her money back.

The Smith's are 63 and 61. Their children have moved out and have homes of their own. Mr. Smith has recently gone through chemotherapy for cancer and Mrs. Smith has had surgery for a bad hip less than two months away. She doesn't like to use the stairs and she doesn't use them at all if there's no bannister - the Jones' house doesn't have a bannister. They haven't been sleeping in the same bed for many, many years. This leads to the following questions:

1. Considering Mrs. Smith's age - why would the Smith's use a condom while having sex?


2. The Jones' double bed is downstairs - why would the Smith's go upstairs, to a single bed to have sex?


3. Did the Jones' daughter's boyfriend tell the truth?


4. Is Mr. Jones' son going the same way as his daughter and hiding used things around his room?


5. Did someone climb in through the window and threw the condoms on the floor?


6. Was the back door already broken and are the Jones' pissed off that the Mr. Smith, who's a handyman, didn't fix it?


7. Are the Jones' hoping that by accusing the Smith's of breaking the back door they can get away from the debt they owe them?


8. Does the Jones' 16-year old son have a sex-drive?


9. Did Colonel Mustard kill Professor Plum with the knife in the library?

Dark phoenix

Lately there have been reports about a starvation catastrophy - people are very close to starving to death! Now I wonder - and you may call me stupid here - what is the difference between someone "starving to death" and someone who's "suffering from a starvation disaster"? Both of them have no food to eat. Does one of them chew grass and the other live in the desert? And how do we know that he or she doesn't chew on palmtrees?
I get that for someone in an office with somewhere who has no problem what so ever attaining something to eat this is a very interesting question, but let's be honest here. The people without the food won't care if they're "starving" or "almost dead from starvation", they still won't have any food. What actually bothers me even more are all the celebrities who're singing songs and donating money. Yes, "well done Slytherin, well done Slytherin", but since most of it ends up in some corrupt dictator's pockets it won't matter much how much you donate or how many songs you sing. And even if it didn't end up there - I really doubt that a starving family would have much joy out of money. I'm pretty sure that it's not god for the digestive system. What I do about the starvation in the world? Not a damn thing - they don't do anything for me.

A for applause.

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

A damn tragedy. That's what it is. A damn, stupid, annoying tragedy. I knew there was a chance of it happening, but I just never thought it would. You know how it is sometimes - you read about it, you hear about it and you know that it goes on, but you just never think it's going to happen. A red t-shirt made my underwear pink. I know, it's horrible. They used to be bright green, beige and white but not anymore. Now they're all pink. All because of that red t-shirt. Damn you!

Numbers

There's too much porn in the world and it's way to easy to access. I remember when I was a kid and found some porn hid away in a drawer in an abandoned shack in the woods. (Well it was an abandoned shack in the suburbs, but still...) It's funny how it goes in cycles. In ancient Greek and Roman times you had eunucks, orgies and gay sex. And no one looked at you in a funny way. Imagine someone asking for a eunuck in today's Western society. The horror!
In the 1910's you were considered naughty if you showed anything above your ankles. "She showed a calf! She's a whore!" In the 1860's it was considered "too much" if you showed your shoulders before lunch. Today it's considering a bit hoochie if you show too much breasts and in the 1600's the corsets pushed the breasts up so far they hid the noses. It's the same with men - Scottish men can wear kilts but anywhere else in the world it's considered weird. Men don't wear tights because they shouldn't have tight pants, but they used to wear tights all the time in the old days. It's the same with shirts and t-shirts. It goes in cycles. Every now and then the school kids all wear shirts and ties and are really properly dressed (not counting shools with uniforms, obviously). Then you have the cycle with jeans and t-shirts and then the dressy style makes a comback again. It's strange when you think about it. So just remember, when sodomies and orgies come back in style - I totally called it first.

Booyah!

There's something special about rain. At least if you're inside. Otherwise it tends to be unspecial and mostly wet. Soaking you to the bone. Making the shoes sound in strange ways.

You know, walking outside with a giant umbrella is quite nice. When it's not windy. The thoughts that went through my head started at "I feel like Mary Poppins", moved on to "I wonder if I'll fly away now" and ended with "Am I gonna jump down a pavement painting now and end up in a world where an American dude speaks bad cockney?". It turns out that I didn't fly away at all, I just got to where I was suppose to be. Inside and away from the rain. It's a bit of a shame though because it would've been really nice to see that fantasy land. And punch Dick van Dyke in the face. Oh well, there's always next time. I live in faith!

Flowers!

17 minutes and 54 seconds. That's how long it takes for Sean Bean to betray Nicholas Cage in National Treasure or Das Vermächtnis der Tempelritter which it's apparently called in German. (Don't ask me why, but imdb.com decided that the title should be in German.)

You gotta hand it to Mr. Bean - he sure doesn't waste any time. Then again, if I worked with Mr. Cage - neither would I. It's a bit sad really, Sean Bean is one of those actors you see everywhere, but that you never really notice and he's a very good actor. Okay, he got his big break as Boromir in Lord of the Rings, but before that - be honest, where did you see him and know it was him?
The trademark is betrayal. Any kind of betrayal really. Every time I watch a movie with him I just sit and wait for him to betray someone - friend, enemy, king, hobo - it doesn't matter. Just some tiny form of betrayal. You'll notice is next time you see him in a movie and then you'll never get away from it.

"Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries!"

Do you ever jump up and down in anticipation? You just know that in a little while something wonderful is going to happen? Yea, I do that a lot. Then again, I'm a fairly happy person. Although... Somehow I'm not sure if it's good to jump up and down in anticipation to the find of Malleus Maleficarum online. Maybe I should be appaled and disgusted over the publication of such a work. Maybe I should find all the copies of it and just burn it in the Winter. A big, smoky heap of books with poisonous smoke which rises several meters high. Of course, I will never do that. The Malleus Maleficarum is one of the books I really want in my bookshelf. It would be awesome together with my Witches-book. You see, the Malleus Maleficarum (if you already know this then please excuse me and go back to your coffee - I'll call you back when I'm done) is a book for witch-hunters. It's from the 15th Century and it is absolutely terrible. (You can find it here: http://www.malleusmaleficarum.org/) Don't say I didn't warn you though.

Northern Soul

Sunshine, lollipop and
streetlight and ehm more sunshine?

You know, I have absolutely no idea how that song goes. It doesn't stop me from singing it though. Or any other song where I don't know the lyrics for that matter. I really like to sing "You are my sunshine" in an incredibly false voice. "You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me haaaaaaaaaaaaaaappyyyyyyyyyyy when life's low. You'll never know just, how much I miss you, so don't you taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake my suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunshiiiiiiiiiine awaaaaaaaaaay". Yea, it ain't pretty. It's also why I would never have to use torture. The singing would do that for me. Then again, according to the Geneva Convention it's illegal to torture people by keeping them awake for a long period of time or constantly interrupting their sleep. So maybe it wouldn't be more humane of me to sing. Maybe it would be worse. I'm going to ponder this over the next six to eight hours and you can expect a written conclusion within four to six weeks.

Thunder and lightning!

Good afternoon and welcome to today's session. Today we're discussing the reality of stories. Mr. English, would you like to start?

"Yes, I think I would. Snowhite. If we ignore the fact that she exiles herself from some stupid tart and go live with some midgets, she's just stupid as all hell. She opens the door for a lady selling apples! When was the last time you came across someone selling apples?!"
"Don't you still have people coming to your door selling milk?"
"Well, uhm yes... but that's beside the point! I mean, I can understand if she lived in a city or something. 'Apple lady!' - I mean, that works. But the bitch lives in the middle of the forest. She lives in the middle of nowhere. The cabin is meant to be in fucking nowhere! That's why she goes there! Because it's in the middle of fucking nowhere! I mean, how can the apple lady even find her there?! And why does she open the fucking door? It's the first human contact she gets in god knows how long and it's a fucking woman selling apples!"

Would anyone else like to add something? No? Okay, let's move on then. Goldylocks. Yes, Mr. English?
"Well, what's up with it? They have three bowls of porridge and they all have different warmth. How's it even possible to get three different temperatures when it's cooked in the same pan at the same time?"
"You never know if it's cooked at the same time because the story doesn't tell you, and it is possible. If you cook porridge in a pan and you pour one bowl and then another and then a third they will all be slightly different in temperature."
"Well, if your porridge is too cold - why would you go for a walk?! I can understand it if the porridge was too warm, but too cold?!"
"You never find out if the porridge is too cold for the bears, you just know that it's too cold for Goldylocks. They are bears living in a house, there's no reality to it."
"And another thing! One bed is too hard and one is too soft."
"I'm suprised that Mama Bear and Papa Bear doesn't sleep in the same bed, myself."
"Exactly! How did they make Baby Bear? 'Come over here, you.' ' Oh no, your bed is too hard. You come over here.' 'No, your bed is too soft.' I'm gonna rewrite Grimms' fairy tales from a realistic point of view."

I assume that the next time you read the story of Goldylocks it will be something along the line of: "Goldylocks got lost in the woods. Luckily she had her brand new mobile phone with a fantastic gps and soon found the way back home again. The end."

Hats and socks

I had pizza for dinner today. It wasn't the best pizza I've ever had - really thin bottom and hardly any crust - but the mushrooms I had on it was fresh. At least that's something. The point is that this pizza made me think. The pizza was from yesterday so that would technically put it in the category of "left-overs". The pizza wasn't made by me or Mr. English so that makes it "take-out". I froze it in the freezer and then heated it in the microwave at work so that'd make it "pre-cooked". It's a very versatile dish the "day-after" pizza. Very versatile indeed. Now I wish I had more of it...

Silencio!

Do you have ever find yourself in a moment when you suddenly realise you're very far from the person you used to be? You wake up, you go to work and you do what you have to and then it just hits you. Like a big anvil from a cartoon movie that's being dropped on your head. BAM!

I understand this picture and just laughed silently to myself when I read it. It's like I don't even know myself anymore.

Full Marksh

I fell down some stairs today. Not a lot of stairs, just one or two, but during the time I managed to somehow twist my right ankle and sort of fall on it. I cried for a bit before I slowly (like really slowly) moved to a bench and sat down. So much pain. Luckily my intense medical training notified me of a) no bones were sticking out and b) I could move the foot without too much trouble so it wasn't sprained or broken. This left me with option c) I'm one hell of a freaking clutz and there's no way I should be allowed outside the apartment without a leash. Now I'm left with a foot that throbs every now and then (I suggest it wants to tell me that it's still there thank you very much), but I have tea and cake so I guess it isn't all bad. I also have Medicine Man on dvd - you know, one of those movies from the mid 90's that went on TV once and that everyone soon forgot. I can really recommend it - Sean Connery's funny. If nothing else - watch it for that!

Chatterbox

Bob is gone. He's left us all alone. In silence. I miss Bob, he was always brumming friendly when I came in through the door. He never said a bad word to either of us. Now he's gone and if all goes well, we will never ever see him again. It was nice knowing you Bob. May you poison someone else's life and raise their temperature with about 20 degrees. Good riddance! (Bob was the humidifyer - try to keep up.)

80's riff

Throughout the ages there's always been talk about who's a foreigner and who's not. Some people have made more of a deal of it than others, but it's always been there, lurking in the background. So, I suggest a solution to this problem. First of all I would like to say that there is at least one way to find out which language a woman speak as her first language. You see, no matter how excellent she is in speaking, say English, and no matter how much she convinces you that she is from England - if she gets knocked up and give birth to a baby, she'll scream at the top of her lungs. In her first language. It's true. That's how they caught Mata Hari. (If you don't know who that is I suggest you go and check it right now! NOW!) She slept with one of Hitler's boys and gave birth to a baby nine months later - while she blew the cover she'd had for years.
If you don't feel like either knocking someone up, or be knocked up, and wait for nine months I here suggest another idea. Let's bring the prejudice back. Let it be stamped in passports, let it be national traits which are wellknown. Let me exemplify.

You have a person who claims to be Swedish. Well, you put him/her in a grocerystore with a few groceries. Tell the person to go and pay for it and then you have someone cut in line right in front of the Swedish person. Now, if the person who claims to be Swedish reacts and tells the line-cutter off, then it's obviously not a Swedish person. We just don't do that. We mutter in anger.

Let me take another example. Let's take a person who claims to be English. We put him in front of a TV in a pub when there's a game going on with the team he says he supports. Then we also put another person in there who supports the other team. If a fight doesn't break out, he's not English.

Still not with me? Let's take a final example then. An Irish fellow. That's what he says anyway. Let's leave him alone in a room with a pint of beer for an hour. If the pint isn't finished when we get back - well, he's obviously not Irish, is he?

Roses

Lately my mouth has been incredibly dry. You know the way it gets when you're about to have a cold? Yea, it's like that, only I'm less tired than compared to having a cold. Or well, that's not really true but that's more my own fault for not sleeping properly than anything else.
The point is that I've been drinking incredible amounts of water lately and I just didn't know why. That's of course until Mr. English said the following sentence: "my mouth's really dry lately and I just can't make sense of it - do you think it's got something to do with the dehumidifyer?" and suddenly it all made sense. Now I hate it even more. It's a shame really because it's not the dehumidifyer's, from here on called "Bob", fault. Bob can't help that he's loud, obnoxious and annoying. For that we blame the people who created Bob, who brought him into this world and who then ditched him in my apartment. Poor Bob, ugly and loved by no one.

I think I'll go give him a hug. After I stick an axe in his head, of course.

"Maybe it's for the best."

Yep, we're gonna have a dehumidifyer. It sucks. I don't want something in my kitchen that goes "brrrrrrrrrm" for two weeks. I got stuff to do that requires silence. Oh, no I don't. I guess it'll just be really high music from now on. Shame.

Con Air. What a fantastic movie that is. It has everything. Guns, rain and American flags waving in the wind. The only role that Dave Chapelle was good in, John Malkovich and Steve Buscemi. I remember watching Con Air in the 8th grade and it was instant love. Of course, then I saw it in another way, but I still love it. I mean, how can you not love John Malkovich playing a psycho? Or Steve Buscemi playing an even bigger psycho who's mental capacity can be questioned?

I can also highly recommend Quarantine. It stinks of low-budget-production, but it's actually really good.

venizei

Tomorrow the gods of the dehumidifying will descend and together we will say goodbye to the mold! At least that's what I hope. I hope that they will wave a wand and all the mold in the kitchen will magically disappear. Oh, what a world that would be. What a world, indeed.
Of course this won't happen. They'll probably look at it and go "hrm" and "hrrrm" and then put down a big dehumidifyer that goes "brrrrrrrrrrrm" all the time and then say "we'll be back in two weeks, leave it on".

Damn you mold. Damn you to hell!

Hide!

Shire...
Baggins...

At some point in my life I would like to be a ringwraith. Dark and hissing and terrifying. It'd be awesome. Imagine some douchebag walking around thinking he's all that and then you just ride up to him and hiss. Oh, that poor son of a bitch would shit his pants faster than he'd say "ale". It'd be absolutely fantastic. Of course, I'd be bound to Sauron and that would kinda suck, but hissing and darkness! I'm sure several people would oppose to me being a wraith so of course I would make sure to dispose of them quickly. Can't let anything keep me from pursuing the dream now, can I?

Moonshine.

You know, I once slept under the night sky. No roof over my head and a simple sleeping bag covering my body. They always glamourise it in movies and make it into this amazing experience. It's really not all it's cracked up to be. Sure, on the evening before you go to sleep it's pretty fantastic to actually be out under the stars and have the moon be the last thing you see before you go to sleep, but in the morning... Oh, in the morning it is not good. In the morning it is cold and it wet. Oh, it is so wet. Even if it hasn't been raining you're basically soaked through with dew. Your face, your sleeping bag, the ground around you. In my case I was sleeping sitting up in one of my parents' garden chairs together with a friend and of course a sitting position is never fabulous to wake up from. So if you ever plan to try it - don't. Sleep in a nice, warm, comfy bed instead. And if you really have to try it - make sure you sleep lying down.

pebbles

The crook of my arms look like I've been using needles. Lots of teeny tiny red dots speckle them and all because I chose to wear a cardigan yesterday and then carry some grocery bags home from the shop. I assume the constant change of the baghandles pushed the threads of the cardigan around my skin and resulted in the needledots. No, I haven't actually stung myself with needles, thanks for asking. Not since I accidentally got one my fingers stuck in a sewing machine and broke that needle. It's a lot less painful than you might think, although it's incredibly creepy. One minute you're sewing something and the next you stitch yourself in three places and the needle go across the room. Not to mention the blood. There's a lot of blood in the top of the finger. Since then I always take extra care not to get my fingers stuck there again, but, knowing me, I'll probably stitch my whole arm at some point again. Good day to you.

Beginning.

Elijah Wood would be such a good gollum. He really has the eyes for it. They wouldn't even have to use a suit. Imagine all the money they could've saved with that. Then again, I guess it would be hard to call Lord of the Rings "an epic movie triology" if Elijah Wood played both Frodo and Gollum. He'd look even more schizophrenic than Gollum does. And I have to admit that Andy Serkis does a fantastic job with Gollum. All that work to only be seen on screen once. That's damn impressive.

I wish my fairytale would be as epic as Lord of the Rings. I hope for it to be read by generations to come. I dream of the day when someone will tell me that they had trouble putting it down and it saddened them when it was finished. Of course... for all this to ever have a slight chance of happening I need to write it. There's always some catch, isn't there...?

smackjawed idiot

I like coffee
I like soda
I like water
and whiskey
and beer

I like big pints
I like small pints
I would even drink a cup of tea
La la la la la la la la la la
Who's that cup of tea on the la-la-lawn?

Tea is a fantastic thing to drink. It's much less addictive than coffee and it tastes so much better. (In my case it's, in fact, no addiction at all.) It changes your priorities to live with someone from another country. In my case it went from food --> everything else to TEA, TEA, TEA, DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME WHEN I SAID 'TEA?!' ---> everything else. In fact, I estimate that my tea-drinking has gone up with at least 500% over the last 10 months. At least I drank tea before so I did have a liking for it. Imagine starting with something completely new... Oh, that reminds me - gotta forcefeed Mr. English salt liqorice.

You have to be there

It's hard to ask for help. I never realised how hard it was until I got down into the shit myself. I mean, if you're happy then you know that it's okay to ask someone taller than you to pick down that jar of pickles in the store because you simply can't reach. When you're down you won't ask. Asking will be admitting that there's yet another thing you can't do on your own so you'll just leave it. You'll know that you really needed that jar of pickles and you'll curse yourself because you didn't ask someone to take it down for you, but you won't go back. You won't ask. You'll leave it and hope that it magically finds its way to your hand. Asking is admitting defeat. Asking is admitting that you're weak. Asking shows others that you can't make it by yourself.

In 2009 when I took leave of absense from work to study I got really down. I made up excuses not to go to school and stayed at home on my couch watching Twilight over and over. (Because a vampire would surely come and find me and take me away... Yea, right.) It wasn't until I started talking to one of my friends that I started going outside the apartment. He didn't feel well either so we started having a quiz-thing via text messages. That quiz-thing lasted for days. If we didn't go to our respective things we had to explain why and endure the torment. It was worth it, beause it made me go outside and meet people and ask for help. It made me admit to myself that I couldn't make it on my own right now. And you know what? People were incredibly helpful without judging. Without telling me that I couldn't do it on my own.


This is entry number 500. Have a little ginger kitten.

insanity

Three days later and still no bag. What we know now is that the bag might be at the police station, but they can't confirm it over the phone if it is. No, we have to get over there and ask for it. It's like meeting the Vogons - if you don't have form A, you're not allowed to see form B and if you don't have form C filled and stamped over a duration of five days you can't access form A and the only way to get form C is to accidentally stumble over it a rainy Sunday in June and then only between 14:45 and 15:31.

I get that they have their ideas and rules, but sheesh - gimme my bloody plastic bag!

fantasy

Have you ever forced someone out of bed at 5:30am on a Thursday? It's much more amusing than I would've thought. Especially when that someone was looking forward to not moving from the bed until 2pm. Then you cover the poor person's eyes with a blindfold and tell the person to use headphones (in this case really big black ones). Then you don't tell him where you're going and let him work it out for himself. In this case it was "you're gonna take me out into the woods and kill me with an axe, aren't you?" and "I'm not gonna end up in Guantanamo Bay, am I?" - ah, it was fun. So the poor guy was forced up from the bed, forced to get dressed with the stuff I pushed into his hands and then he was forced down the stairs and into a car. All the while without knowing where he was going. At the airport I told him where we were going and the end of two months preparation finally came. So the last five days have been spent in England with friends and family and it sucked to go back home.

Things we've learned from this trip:

1. Don't discuss the mystery of aero dynamics and how planes can stay up in the air while being on a plane in the air with someone who's afraid of flying.
   
   
2. Don't leave stuff on the plane. It's insanely hard to get it back if you don't have any form of ID in there.
   
   
3. Post-holiday-blues sucks ass, but it's nice to have someone to share it with.

The rock feels no pain.

Lately I've been playing Theme Hospital on playstation 1. I'd forgotten how much fun it is to pretend that you run a hospital and now, as a somewhat adult and responsible person, I realise how accurate it actually is.

- There are no benches - your patients have to stand.
- My patients will do whatever I tell them to do.

It's good to play God. I should do it more often. If nothing else then to remind myself that I should never be in a position of power. Ever. I don't work well with power. Then again, there are a lot of people with power who don't work well with power so maybe it's a common thing. I wonder if there's help for it? Maybe a little pink pill - "anti-corrower" (corruption/power). Take three times a day with a glass of milk - water won't do.

Crash Dash

Exercising the deadly sin of slothing off on the couch is really nice. In fact it's so nice that I've been doing it for several days. I think the world would be a better place if more people slothed off on their couches. There'd be less tension in the world and just more... flow. People would be more relaxed and not so stressed out all the time. Of course, it would also give them time to plan and scheme... Hrm, I'm not sure that would be ideal to the world. I'll get back to you on this after careful evaluation.

Have you ever had a secret so big that just the thought of keeping it makes you burst from the inside? For me it's the present for Mr. English on his birthday. It's a fantastic present and I've been keeping it hidden for months. Although... pretty much everyone except Mr. English knows so I'm not really sure that it constitutes as a secret anymore. Maybe it's just a normal present. God, that sounds boring. Maybe I should just tell him that I've planned a G.I. Joe-adventure and that we'll be a bunch of friends who go far into the woods and shoot on each other with paintball-guns. Or maybe I'll just wait until Thursday and simply tell him. What's one more day of secret-keeping, right?

Fly from the highest swing.

If I close my eyes and cup my hand I can imagine that I hold a ball of fire. I can feel it burn and I can see it sparkle, but only when I have my eyes closed. When I open them and actually look at my cupped hand I just see my hand in a strange position. The ball is white and it's not very big, but it's there. It's warm and it's bright. I'm not really the kind of person who should be able to create balls of fire so it's probably a good thing that it's not really there. Probably. I'm excellent at what I do, so I'd probably be excellent with a ball of fire. I'm awesome and incredibly and excellent. At what I do. Only... I don't actually have something I do. Yet. I don't have anything I do incredibly well. Yet. Unless you count the gaming. I'm very good at that. Or the writing. I'm really good at that. In fact, I'm better at that then the gaming and that says a lot. That's why I, at 0:35am on a Friday night, cup my hand and pretend that there's a ball of white fire burning there. It's easier to write fantastic stories if they can be visualised. So that's what I'm doing. If I can see it, it'll come true. And it will be magical.

This made no sense, but it wasn't meant to be. Have a nice day.

Die and arise!

The sun is shining... The weather is sweet... Woke up with a headache... and nauseaus feet... (it was my stomache, but that doesn't work with the tune.) I don't know what it is with Good Friday that makes me wake up after strange dreams, but for some reason I always do. Last night I dreamt that one of my best friends died. The sad thing is that this wasn't the first time I've dreamt it. The mind works in mysterious ways - certainly since my friend is very much alive.
Maybe it's Jesus's idea of a joke - I suffered so you have to suffer too! Or maybe he just doesn't care and sits somewhere with Elvis, J.F.K., Martin Luther King Jr. and Marilyn Monroe and sigh over how terrible the world have been. "Have you been to Sweden lately? All those paper eggs... Not to mention all those chickens! That wasn't my message at all!" Not to mention Elvis's answer "All I wanted was to drive a truck and they forced me into a white pyjamas! I feel your pain, man".

The Power of Easter sure works in mysterious ways. Now - time to hunt some chickens!

Candi & Muffyn

Have you ever found yourself in one of those situations when something fucks up and you know exactly what to do without knowing how or why you know it? More and more lately I find myself in that situation when it comes to computers. I guess it comes with being a computer gamer and hearing a lot of talk about computers. It might also be because I find it important to have a proper tool for your hobby, which, in this case, is my computer. Since I got my pc in 2006 I've changed everything in it except the cd-rom drive at least once. The motherboard, graphics card, power supply, ram memory, harddisk drive... In 2006 this was a fabulous computer and now it's my pride and joy. How the hell did that happen?!

Oh, and I haven't spillt anything on it even once. I reserve that for Mr. English's laptops and Mr. English's laptops only.

Quidditch

I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses.
I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory
and even put a stopper in Death.
/Severus Snape in "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone"

Alan Rickman. Alan. Rickman. I don't think anyone can do the role of Severus Snape as well as he can. In fact, he does it so well that me and Mr. English have a deal. We're allowed to sex Alan Rickman without the whole problem of cheating. Isn't that nice? I think more couples should have ideas like this. No, not threesomes. Just you know, someone they can sex without the shouting and misunderstanding and god knows what else.

More Alan Rickman to the people! And no, I'm almost not allowed to watch Harry Potter anymore. Why not? Because I have a tendency to quote every line...

borderline addictive personality

There are some things you know that just stay at the back of your head. Then there are those kinds of knowledge that you use in your everyday life - like crossing road when car is speeding really really fast = bad.

I was just watching Sorority Row. I can't say I've been wanting to watch it for some time or that I even knew what kind of movie it was, but I watched it none the less. To quote Mr. English: "It has to be the worst pile of tripe I've ever seen in my life". It's predictable, it's flimsy and, although it hurts me, I have to admit that it was a rather entertaining movie. You know, the way Scream is entertaining. This is where I get to the point about how some knowledge gets stored. You see, there is one point in the movie that really gets to me (well several really, but one in particular). They're in the woods and they can't get any reception on their cell phones so they can't call the police. I get that. I respect that. It makes sense. IF it wasn't for the fact that ALL American cell phones UNDER LAW must be able to call 911 at any time. That means without reception, without a sim card and without money. I know it's a small thing, but in a movie where the cell phone is sort of central you'd think they'd actually make it right. How do I know this by the way? From QI - Stephen Fry never lies.

And now for something completely different. Valentine - the only horror movie I've seen at the cinema and the only movie I've yawned at because it bored me so much.

starlight

Harry... Potter...

Isn't that the best kind of book there is? Sure, Joanne Kathleen Rowling (you'll thank me at your next pubquiz) took a bit here and took a bit there, but I mean she really did mash it up to something of her own, didn't she?
I've been a very big fan of her books ever since I read the first one (January something 2001) because they are bloody fantastic. Still... more and more lately I've been wondering why they just don't pick up a gun and shoot at each other. I mean surely that must be so much easier than trying all these wimsy spells all the time. Of course, maybe they can actually heal from those kinds of wounds... that would explain a lot. It's a shame that there aren't more books really - so many questions are left unanswered. Then again, at least J.K. Rowling knows when to stop. More cred to her for that.

Now... to the magic-making-mobile!

Watch over me

Some days are just worse than others and some days are just better than others. It's the way it is. The only thing one can do about it is to accept it. Yesterday I found mold in the kitchen ceiling. I'm fairly sure it comes from one of the neighbouring appartments which sprung a leak in the bathroom a while ago, but I sort of wished it would stay hell away from my kitchen. I know that it's a new infestation since I repainted the kitchen last year and saw nothing then. And now of course I worry about the fact that it'll spread, take over my whole kitchen and turn it into a swamp where an evil monster reign from the fridge. It's more than possible, you know - I've seen it happen.
Anyway, I decided to just accept it. For now. The mold is there, it won't go away and I'll have my parents over to check on it this weekend. Until then I'm gonna enjoy Mr. English, the weather and the fact that I don't own a cat. (I don't know where this originated, but it's damn funny! Been looking for it for years. Or well - wanting to read it again, if I'd been looking I would've found it by now.)

The Dog's Diary

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

The Cat's Diary

Day 983 of My Captivity

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...

"When we arrived at the ninth hole..."

I currently have a shitload of bruises on my legs. How did that happen? I'm pretty sure I haven't walked into... Let's just scratch that last part, because let's face it - I probably have.

Today I decided on some luxury in my ordinary daily life. That luxury involves skin care lotion, hand creme and foot creme. Sometimes I wonder if my life is incredibly boring or if my standards are just too low. What do you think? You're right. I really do need to go outside more.

Strudel

There are many times when I watch a football match (yes, football - not "soccer", deal with it), see the trainer and think to myself "I could do that so much better". Let's be honest, we've all been there. Screaming at the coach because he does a mindnumbingly daft move or yelled at the players because they simply suck. Imagine how nice it'd be if a normal couch potato got to train a team for a season. I'm convinced they'd do a better job than today's coaches. It'd also be good for a normal, complaining potato to know what it's like there - at the press conferences, at the field and when it really matters. Not to mention the complaints that'd be from all the other potatoes. Because let's face it - fans are never happy.

Llanfairpwllgwyngyll

Did you know that the Prince of Wales... Oh nevermind. I don't know what it is about the Prince of Wales. At least I don't know now, but for some reason I did last night. The Prince of Wales... oh nevermind it's a dream... and then back to sleep. I never talk in my sleep. I snore (and I do it proudly damnit!), but I don't talk. Nor do I actually know the Prince of Wales. I'm not even sure there is one... Hrm, wasn't Princess Diana the Princess of Wales? And didn't she become Princess because she married that dude with the ears? Aha! Evidence seem to point towards Prince Charles in the Wales-question. Interesting. My next project is definitely to find out more about Wales. And to be able to speak Cymraeg - mostly because it's so incredibly weird.

fluffy

I want icecream. With sprinkles. And chocolate sauce. And whipped cream. And meringue. Mmm...

You know, when I have my kids, or devil spawns, I won't let them watch TV. I mean, imagine sitting there day after day and watch teletubbies. Then imagine that you can't move because you're wearing a diaper or because you're in some sort of device which makes it impossible for you to move. For your safety of course. And then imagine hour after hour with teletubbies...

Animal

When in doubt
take the mop out
Give it a whirl
then make a twirl
Enjoy the light
it's nice and bright
Oh and did I mention
that I can feel the tension?
And that this time...
I really hate this rhyme.

Ey, check your phone!

Newspapers are suppose to tell the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. Or well, one would think so anyway. They are suppose to not take sides and just be objective to a situation. Of course, since the news is written by people and people can't stay objective the news itself is of course not objective either. Then we do, of course, have the interests that influence the news. The money that floods into the newspaper production, that pays the salary, that decides what's interesting and what's not.

This is a picture of a crashed train. It crashed on New Year's Day this year and the report to why it crashed it now finished. In the news it says:

The train, which was 140m long and with a weight of 323 tons

kept a speed of about 30km/h.
There were damages on the buffer stop and
150 ties which much be replaced.

A contributing reason to the train's speeding
was that the driver for some reason didn't brake
the train during the drive up to the buffer stop.
(www.sydsvenskan.se)

Now for the fun part, because let's face it - there's always a fun part. A month or so ago I was on my way to the university and sat on a lovely bus on my way to the train station. Directly behind me on this bus was two people talking and discussing this accident. They were both co-workers to the guy who drove the train and apparently he'd fallen asleep and smashed it. It's funny what the news are forced to keep quiet, isn't it?

Don deLouise

I really want to have kids. I'd love to have a tiny baby to love and to hold and to cherish for the rest of my life. Someone that I can teach right and wrong and you know... make into my image...
Of course, having a dog here that doesn't know that "stay off the bed" means that you shouldn't be in the bed really has put me off kids for a while. It's not that I don't want one, it's just that I think I'll wait. Until I'm finished with my studies. Until I'm older. Until I'm rich enough to hire someone to take care of it for me while I'm out having fun. After all, isn't that what good parenting is all about? Teaching the kids to take care of themselves? Hrm, maybe I should hire a horrible nanny. That way the kid would be self dependent from a young age. Yea... yea, I think that's a wonderful idea. I really would be the world's greatest parent. Well, after Homer Simpson, of course.

Starshine

My sister's dog's gonna come and terrorise us tomorrow. That means that I'll have to get up and take him outside to pee several times a day, make sure that he's well fed and provide all the other company that a doggie needs.
This has made me realise that humans really don't master dogs. Dogs really master humans. I mean, I need to take the dog outside since he can't open the door. I have to fix his food since he can't open the bag. I mean, who's really serving who here?

Lampshade

Do you ever find yourself wondering if you should take up that old friendship you had? The friendship that was awesome, but ended for a reason? Lately I find myself wondering if I should do just that. If I should just try and start it again. I think about all the fun we used to have and I miss it. And then I realise why it ended. And why it has stayed the way it has. And it hurts and it sucks and it's really boring, but it's necessary. It's necessary to not have the friendship. How horrible is that?

I think I need more friends... To the friend-making-machine! Oh right... it's broken.

Fiddlesticks!

Luck is to realise that I have books that I haven't read in a long time and that I'd completely forgotten about. It's pretty much like every time I do a proper cleaning and find clothes I'd forgotten I had. In hindsight I may have a tad too much stuff...

You know what? I think I have to become The Flasher. I really do. I mean, I need exercise and fresh air and the bad guys need to be caught, right? And let's face it - who're better to catch them than me? My 50 kilograms are fantastic - I could sit on the baddies until the police comes and then make a dramatic exit by rushing straight into the nearest shop window and having to go to the hospital due to brain damage. Hrm, I think I'm onto something here... I'll get back to you on this - to the costume sketching room!

Hamster

Do you know what's sad? I'm really in the mood for something epic. Movie-wise that is. But I don't feel like Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings or anything like that. No, I feel like Star Trek: Voyager. If only my ten-year-old-self could see me now. The disappointment that would shadow that poor girl's face... It would be so worth it. Going back and time and say "yes, this is what will happen to you - you will watch one part of the Star Trek-series, you will be addicted and you will like it! Oh, and on your spare time you will be addicted to online computer games". I'm pretty sure that the ten year old me would answer "what's online computer games?" and I would have to explain the idea of internet to her. Poor girl. Then again, maybe I could make millions if I came up with a really revolutionary idea then - it could be something that's in every home today. Hrm... where did I put the manual for my time machine...?

Oh, and go see Hot Tub Time Machine. It's better than it seems. Trust me. Or don't. Just go see it.

I believe I can fry!

Sometimes my brain thinks ahead and when it does that the thing I say comes out a little bit as if I can't speak properly. Like now, for instance, when I told mr. English that it'd be better if he turned up dead than not at all. What I meant was that when a person disappears without a trace, it must be better for the relatives and friends if they turn out to be dead than if they're never found. Just for the closure. Of course, the ideal thing is that they just went out to sniff a flower and lost track of their feet.

It's a bit weird though, those people who disappear every year and never turn up. I don't mean the ones who are kidnapped, but the ones who simply... disappear. I mean, how can you just one day decide to walk out the door and not turn back? Never get in touch with your friends and family again? Never look back? Is it too much trouble with money? Friends? The law? Hrm... come to think of it - if I was in trouble with the law I'd probably run for it aswell. I doubt it'd be that hard. Take out all the cash, get on the train, be anonymous, get to the continent, take a boat somewhere. All anonymously. Oh, and of course, don't use electronics. And no, I am not in trouble with the law, and no, this is not how I would do it. I'm simply giving you an example of how it can be done. What surprises me is that people don't do it more. Or maybe they do and they're just stupid and get caught. Then again, if you commit a crime you're pretty damn stupid anyway.

Listen closely...

It's rather amazing, isn't it? Being able to witness the people who fight for a better tomorrow. Being able to follow their struggle for better living conditions and leaders who aren't corrupted. Being able to actually see the impact their opinions have.

The human being adapts. It's in her nature. But what happens when she doesn't want to adapt anymore? When she feels that she's had enough of adaption? I'll tell you what happens. She says that "enough is enough" and stops going along with it. That's what happening all across the world. People say that "no, we don't want to do this anymore" and they stop. It's an amazing thing to see and it's truly inspiring and it's made me think. What if Swedish people were to stand up for their unjustice? What if they were to stand up for the fact that their unemployment benefits are a joke? Or for the fact that the people who make the decisions whether or not you should get paid when you broke your spine and currently can't work just decided that you can and that you therefore won't get paid?
Of course, this isn't nearly as bad as being prosecuted, imprisoned, tortured and killed for your beliefs and I'm not saying that it is. I'm merely comparing the fighting spirits. You see, let me try and explain how this would happen in the Swedish society.

"Come everyone! Let us stand up for the unjustice forced upon us by the government! Let us stop and say 'NO MORE'! Let us stand together and march for what is right!" And the square is filled with hundreds of thousands of people - all of whom want to stop and say "no more". "Let them hear our protests. Let them know that we refuse to take this anymore!" And the sound of agreements and cheers rise from the square. It's the sound of freedom in the making and everywhere you look you can see signs saying Enough is enough and Government go away and We won't take this anymore! Don't take away our rights!. [And here comes the Swedish part.] "It's cold, isn't it? The wind is a bit chilly." And the murmurs go through the crowd 'now that you mention it', 'I do feel cold', 'I'm cold to the bones'. "Let's go inside and warm ourselves. Let's put our signs down on the square here... Maybe they'll see it from their windows. I'm sure they'll know our opinion. Yes, I think they will." And the sound of hundreds of thousands of signs being put down is heard. And the vision of hundreds of thousands of people leaving the square in different directions can be seen. And the sound of the protest is being forever silent as they all go back to their daily life.

bold

There is something very funny with going outside with flip-flops and a t-shirt when the temperature is below zero and there's snow on the ground. It was only to take out the trash, but it's a funny thought all the same. Come to think of it - flip-flops are probably the smartest type of shoes there are. I mean, in the summer you wear them without ruining the soles of your feet and still keep cool. In rain you don't soak your shoes - mostly because there's no shoe to soak through, but still... and in winter you could wear them to make a fashion statement. I am hip. I am cool. I make my own rules. You might risk freezing your feet though and turn them black, but it's worth it in the end, isn't it? I mean, for the statement. Isn't it?

Wanted

There are a lot of weird commercials out there. I once saw one about a puppy gliding across several floors in a house without being able to stop and finally being stopped by a pack of tissue paper. After some rather intensive searching for the past several minutes - aswell as an "oh, that's probably Andrex" from Mr. England - I've found out that the advert does indeed belong to Andrex. Sadly I can't find it and it's a shame because it could be one of the best adverts I've ever seen. And I've watched a lot of TV. My whole day used to be planned to the TV-guide. The point was that where some commercials are good, others are so bad that they completely fail to convey their message. We have one here now about a wallpaint called "Lady colour". Not only does is it come in horrible colours (navy blue or beige), but it doesn't reflect. The funny thing here is that it's a matt paint and, speaking for an expert perspective, if a matt paint reflects... then it's a REALLY BAD MATT PAINT! It's like saying "Our new orange juice! Now without pears!" - well duh. I just don't get it. I really don't. Maybe it's just me though - maybe this is a fantastic paint that brings out the woman in you or something.

Now, to end this on a happier note - the Andrex puppy:



Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life?

Fantasy and reality

The Swedish Eurovision really has gone downhill in the later years. And with "later years" I mean since the turn of the century. (Haha, how cool is it to be able to say "turn of the century" and not be 200 years old?) Point is that the songs are always about pain and suffering or walking a lonely road or being in love and happy. What happened to the lyrics that mattered? What happened to the stuff that used to be important? Here is my idea for next year's entry.

I went down to the supermarket
Was gonna buy some
milk and butter and bread
but they were out of bread
(they were out of bread)
why was there no bread?
(they were out of bread)

I went down to the baker's
to see if there was some bread
but he was out of bread
(he was out of bread)
yea, he really had no bread
(no, he was out of bread)

I went up to my neighbour's
to see if she had bread
but she wasn't at home
(no, she was away)
yea, she was away
(no, she wasn't at home)

My sandwhich will be boring
because I have no bread
(there is no bread)
because I have no breeeeeeeeead
(no bread)
No breeeeeee-heeee-heeeeeeeeeeeee-head
(no bread)

Yes, I can totally see this being a hit. Remember where you heard it first. Inside your head.

Icecream with noodles and chocolate!

There are several things that bug me right now. The first one is this stupid spell-check that this writing zone uses which results in almost every word being accompanied with a nice red line. Not because I spell wrong, oh no, but because I don't write in Swedish. I mean, come on - who speaks Swedish anyway?

The second thing is the annoying feeling I get every time I fail an exam. Not because I failed, but because it feels like I'm a no-good who can't manage anything. Of course, I know this isn't true - I speak several languages and I managed to score a hottie, a job and an apartment. So of course I'm not a good-for-nothing-loser. Of course I know that. It's just that when I'm sucked into the world of studies and grades it seems like it's the most important thing in the world. That letter. On that paper. Without it I am nothing. Without it I suck. Fuck you paper. There, I said it. And it felt fucking fantastic!

Number three on my list of bile is Twilight. Or more specific - a part of the movie that really annoys me. Bella Swan, the leading lady, has a computer and a connection to the interwebs. She uses said connection to find a bookstore so she can get a book with legends. I mean, really? If you have a computer and a connection to the interwebs - why would you get a book? Especially if it's just research? I get it if you want to turn off all the electronics and such and cuddle up under the cover somewhere, but for research? I just don't get it.

On a good note - Gary Oldman. Best. Actor. Ever. No idea who he is? Okay... he plays the cop in the new Batman-movies, he plays the meanie in The Fifth Element and he plays Sirius Black in the Harry Potter-movies. If it's not good that you don't know it's him, then I don't know what is.

"Don't make me run! I'm full of chocolate!"

Homer Simpson: Oh, forget it, dad. You're not with it.
Abraham Simpson: I used to be with it.
Then they changed what 'it' was.
It happened to me and it's gonna happen to you too!

A part of me sometimes wonder if I'm emotionally detached from other people. Like when I don't really care about their problems or just spend the time being constantly mentally high. It's a bit weird really, the mentally highness, because you never really stop. You're happy just by waking up in the morning, you're happy when you see sunlight, you're happy you have plants that grow... You get the point, right? It gets a bit stupid after a while. Not to mention how incredibly time consuming it is. I mean, you spend so much time in your happiness that you sort of forget to do other stuff. Important stuff. You know, the stuff. Don't get me wrong, it's wonderful to be happy, but I just can't help wonder...

It runs deep!

Do you know what I really dislike? Shortcuts. At least when it comes to knowledge. I believe in hard work. Of course... now I sort of wish I could just cram the understanding of statistics into my head with a simple button. It's not that I don't really get it, because I sort of do. It's just that every time I have a heureka-moment and think that Yes! I get it! I realise that I don't and that I'm really far away from the right answer. It's incredibly frustrating. Not to mention annoying. Oh statistic - why can't you be easy to understand like the Black Plague? Ah, but, you say, the Black Plague increased rather rapidly. Almost... exponentially one might say. Statistics show that... And then of course I stop listening and go back to how much I really dislike mathematics. Damn you statistics!

Now... how many chocolate eggs can ten people eat under a period of one year and how many do they eat from a mean-value-point-of-view?