Christmas loveliness

So much food... So much food!
This is why I love Christmas. The endless hills of lovely food that you can gorge your face in. Oh I love food... Amazing.
And of course seeing family and friends, don't forget.
Which led me to seeing The Hobbit twice, which is why I'm here today on this lovely evening.
Rant time.

People who don't understand personal space...
In the cinema you are given a seat. A seat to watch the film in. Well I'm sure everyone enjoys having a seat to themselves. Who doesn't.
Then there's this lady-thing.
Sat next to me there was, only something that could be described as the biggest chav in Norwegian history. Probably on a date with her boyfriend or husband or whatever, treating themselves with this months benefits (OK that was mean...) to see this excellent film of extremely attractive short people (not that short people aren't attractive).
Anyway, this being of incredible arseness managed to elbow me throughout the whole entirety of the movie. One could say it ruined the experience ever so slightly.
I tried being polite about it, by slightly shoving her away, or should I say bravely attempting to undo the injustice that was happening in that cinema that faithful day...
Foiled.
Fucking foiled.
No hint was taken that day.
Infuriating.
When the film was done She-Beast and Boyfriend rushed out of the cinema like the impolite monkeys they are/were without apologising when they trampled over my bag... How... What.... I can't even....

Ah but Christmas, oh Christmas.
Filled with beautiful first world problems and glorious food.
I love food.
This holiday basically only consist of food. I could build a fort OF the food eaten. However I would not as it has already been digested, ha ha. Hilarious.
Many lovely presents, of course. Will be nice and warm if the winter properly sets in.
Weather.
Ah, let's leave it there, or one might age rapidly...

Busy bee

So-uh.... Wops...
Uni has been really busy lately with preparing for and doing assessments.
I had a weekend in London with Carina and Frank the 18-20th of October, met up with Aaron and we walked a lot. That was fun. Feet got fucking knackered, though. I'm an avid fan of sightseeing, but walking places can be a bit of a downer regarding that. We went to Platform 9 3/4, we saw the Parliament, unfortunately didn't go to see the Tower of London as the line was... "Massive" doesn't quite describe it.... However, we did catch a show of sorts outside it. That was cool. With canons and stuff.
We saw Charlie and the Chocolate factory - the musical (was good!) and went to a film museum. That was cool.

Going back to do more assessment preparations with Clown Lab which was a lot of fun. Very hectic and filled with very critical feedback, but very good. I really enjoyed that week and was invited to go to London to do another week with them. Which was incredible! I was insanely happy! I met some incredibly talented people, a hilarious lot, and got several pages in my notepad filled with games and exercises.
Score.

Then on out we had intensive bouffon rehearsal before the Great Reveal, or 'the performance' as some call it... It could have gone better, the performance, but good to get it over and done with. Then on to the next assessment, and next and next... It's safe to say that the Christmas holiday came in time this year. Before the waves of mental illnesses came wafting through the snow on a one horse open sleigh.

Anyway, came home and I found THIS beauty!

Looooooook at heeeeeer! I love that little bastard! So happy! Her name is Vitani and she makes me happy!
Such a cutie!

The Visit

Apart from the terribly plagiarised title from our first-year performance, this visit was actually good. Well, good is a strange way of describing a visit... Like it is a performance (Erving Goffman could argue it is... Oh God, what has this course done to me!?)... What I mean is this visit was EXCELLENT!
Trudi came over to Swansea! And she took it by storm!

(An alternative title to this is:
The travel (almost) diary of Maria. Having a Trudi-visit.
This is a long'un)

So Thursday (10th) came, the lovely Trud-meister came, I was late as ever (I really need to get my shit together on that. Jeez.), we walked up the dreaded Mount Pleasant hill... Well, I say walking... Trudi were walking, I was wheezing and partially unconscious.
We got back to the house anyway, she got unpacked, then got to meet Cira and showing her around the place. We went into town and had a bite to eat.

'Twas really nice. We have made many good decisions with rock-paper-scissors and a smidge of pure stubbornness... That happened more than I would care to admit... It's a great way of resolving things, though!
The next day Cira, Trudi and I were going to go to Mumbles but alas, the plan was thwarted by none-existing buses going there... I kinda wish we had walked as it is lovely at the beach when it's sunny, but I don't think the people coming were too keen on that. Sadly... But we got to finish our Thing 1 and Thing 2 costumes though for Catty's birthday and met up with Alan, Amy and Derek in town. Hannah joined us afterwards which was nice!







We went to a pub, the Bank Statement I think it was, and Trudi was very happy to see the price of the local  -erm- beverages. Very happy.
Let's say she got a little crazy about it.



<--- Best. Face. Ever.

When the night young the people in the bar were also relatively young, but when it got late... Let's just say "the night was young" didn't really apply for that place. They were old. It was Us and Them.
Them and Us.
They were dressing up like they were 40 years younger, we were drinking our sorrows away.
You know, the usual.
Nah, we had a lovely time, each taking turns on buying pitchers. Cheap things they were.
According to known sources, canines of the female variety loves cheap things, I hear. Must be true then, I suppose.


Fuck's sake. I can tell you right now that sorting pictures out on this diabolical page is a nightmare.
Moving on.
Turned out to be a fantastic night. I have pictures of the rest of the gang, but asking them feels a little awkward if I'm honest.

The Saturday we headed back into town.
We needed a couple of more things for our costumes that night.
Trudi has a way of entertaining herself that entertains everyone around her as well, which is lovely. Crazy kitten.
Love that girl!

There's no wonder she's mad though, as she gets up voluntarily at like 10 o'clock, even when she has her day off. Why, I will never understand. It's bound to make a person a little mad. But that's only a good thing, at least in this case.
On the way down we talked about our Thing characters, and decided to go for the sexy approach (play on words, sixty sounds like sexy in Norwegian (well she nailed it, I just looked like the village idiot. More on that later, however)... PUNS ARE GREAT!)

Then, onwards to Primark to finish our costumes... Oh dreaded Primark. It's like fish in a barrel in there. Or a really busy street in ...China!
Cira and I thought we lost Trudi in there, lost her to the chaos of what seems like millions, if not billions, of aisles, but luckily we spotted her by the not-very-subtly-coloured leggings. Such a blessed day. Primark decided to spare her life, and I will be forever grateful.
'Twas a day of rejoicing and happiness. Not only did we finish our costumes, but we got to get out of there alive. Sun (it was cloudy, I'm exaggerating) never felt sweeter on my pale, Primark-faded skin. Our eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness. We could finally breathe.
Breath happened.
Breath stopped.
Then it happened again. 
It was an amazing feeling. The security guard looked puzzled when he saw our (I assume Cira and Trudi felt the same) desperate faces... Possibly puzzled for actually getting out? Who knows. They are  working there, so they are probably in on it.

 As a treat for the horrors we had to endure, we got ourselves milkshakes. Sweet nectar of sanity-restoring .... stuff. Eddie's Rocket has the best.
Anyone claiming otherwise are wrong.



No, it's not up for discussion.

Trudi met her idol, Cira Done It Right With Pizazz. She got her autograph and a picture to prove it really was her. Cira was so smooth about it, flipping us off in the process with the classical V sign.
Her eyes glistened in the sun, and a sense of knowledge was to feel from her. Maybe she knew that by flipping us off Trudi would have a very awkward conversation when showing the picture to her grand-children and they ask "what the lady was doing!?". I suppose that would be a great way of showing rude body language to small children. Good on you, Cira Done It Right With Pizazz. Good on you.

So the night approached, we got ready whilst having a lot of fun, bantering, posing and a little bit of duck-faces happened.

Trudi had a wonderful moment where she forgot she was a person and started behaving like a chicken. It must have been the sleepless mornings getting to her. The outcome was hilarious though. 

 We quickly found out that the tights we (I, it was all my fault.) had hastily taken from Tesco were really rather small.... So that also invited some ridiculous moments of desperately trying to fit into them before realising that "actually, cutting them up and wearing them like socks, not that bad an idea".

That's not my pants (panties? LINGERIE!) you see there, by the way, I made sure the t-shirt was tucked nice and well into the way-too-small tights.
Just a disclaimer against emotional scarring, is all.







The parteh in pictures (without the other people, so it looked kinda lonely... It wasn't!). Started off getting ready in my room with music snacks and drinks, then to Catty's house and ended up in Reflex. Or whatever it's called now.

 Oh yes. Trudi was the sexy one ( Thing 61) and I were meant to be sexy too (Thing 62)! Was great fun. Stuffed our bras with socks and everything to get into the role properly. Haha, I felt like a sorry lout, being her sidekick, wanting just a little claim of fame. It was great fun.
It ended up in us going to the beach, her getting changed outside the Grand Theatre and having extremely, EXTREMELY annoying people following the group down, expecting to get laid, but walking off in a huff after being told off for being rude. (Not completely true, they stuck around for ages. Like leeches. Being depressing.
Pick-up tip #1: Don't be depressing.
Pick-up tip #2: Don't be rude.
Pick-up tip #3: Don't be annoying. Unless I've missed out on something, just talking to someone doesn't mean you're going to go home with them.... Don't be a dick.
OH! SOMEONE SAID I LOOKED 12 YEARS OLD! I am still not happy with that! Little shit.)

Next day started very late...
Sorry Trudi.
We stayed in talking, which was nice, then she treated us to a Cosmo (that mad mad Trudi. Thank you!) meal that lasted... Ridiculously long.

The table behind us had two different groups of people while we were there. I think we lasted two hours before heading back, where we collapsed on the sofas. 

Trudi knows how to make emotions come to life, that's for god damn sure. Haha, but she soon was up, being all "young", "alive" and "sporty". Broke the flag in the process too! Hah. "That's what happens when people try and move muscles after a big meal. - Confucius"

Action-shot of her flagging with her foot (sort of).  It was fucking fantastic. Nay, GLORIOUS! That's all I can say.

If you're still reading after all that banter, thanks for coming over Trudi, was really nice having you over. And I know for a fact that people were utterly charmed by your very charming self!
All hail the Trudi.
<3

:P

Letters for badguys.

I had a bit of a weird spout of weirdness on twitter last night, where I theorised about what the official (probably mostly restraining orders) letters of horror movie characters looked like, and wanted to expand on that because, as kids say these days, it was "hella fun".

Samara from The Ring's landlady:
"Samara dear, I've been receiving letters of complaints from other tenants saying the walls between their and your flat have severe water damage. If this is not sorted out, I will have to evict you. I locked myself in to assess the damage earlier, and it is simply not healthy living in such damp conditions, as it will end up covered in mould. I am rather curious as to how you managed to get it wet all the way to the TV though....
Sincerely,
Mrs. Higgins"

Jason's parole officer:
"Jason, we've received complaints from families visiting your camp, complaining of a terrible stench coming from your cabin and that you chase them with a machete. These are quite serious accusations, and I will need you to come by the station Monday morning for a testimony.
Sincerely,
Bobby Joe Doughman"

Jason's intervention letter:
"Jason, mate, this is very difficult for me to say, but you need to bury your mother. It's getting to the point now, where it's really awkward coming over and see her head on that shrine. Let her go, mate. She loves you, but you need to let her go to get on with your life. If you struggle to cope, you really should look into seeing a counsellor. It's for your own good.
-Jimmie"

Jeeper's Creepers dietarian:
"Jasper, I've had a look at your diet now, and I found alarming amounts of Hummin meat? Never heard of this before, but the amounts you eat can't be healthy. I suggest going on a vegetarian diet for two weeks before you ease back into eating meat. Your system needs a break. Please look at the attached recipes if you want to boost your immune system and get your metabolism going.
Thanks, see you Friday! Happy dieting!
Jenna"

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde's wife's hastily written note:
"Henry, you've changed.
-Martha"

Dracula's doctor:
"Lord Dracula, I've received the test result for your last bloodtest and I've received a very interesting result... Did you know you are closely related to my assistant Gina? You could positively be her twin. Very interesting. You also seem to have oral herpes and I have written a perscription for you. It should stop being infectious in 2-3 weeks.
Sincerely,
Doctor Hammond"

Dedicated to my hero.

8=======================D    ~o ~o ~o      {()}


Too right.

Somewhat titled

The thing about smartphones that I really really really hate is the fact that you can't just randomly send "Oh I really thought you were a decent person, but this!? Sending me this!? No... You are just a massive perv. How dare you!" to people.
Such a bummer that you can see what you sent previously. Or the conversation, if you will.
Sad face.

Anyway, I've been working on this really long blog post about serious stuff of seriousness for a long time, and I just can't bring myself to post it. So I decided to give that up and try and write something witty instead. As I am in that kind of mood.

Bring the thunder.

I wrote a short story that I would like to share.
Oh yes. This shit is happening yo.
WITH shitty paint-pictures.


OK here we go. It is called

"Pen-pal" (dramatic music)
The last sentence was carefully thought through before I jotted it down and sealed the envelope. The stamp was carefully placed in the right-hand corner and dropped into the letterbox. I smiled. I had never had a pen-pal before.

The days went by slowly while I were waiting for an answer. I was anxious to read the reply of what I thought to be a thought provoking letter.

A rainy day, particularly nasty, I felt the need to take a walk. There was no particular reason for this, but on rainy days I feel there is something particularly forbidden, almost, about being outside in heavy rain.
It turned out it was my stomach leading the way. I headed down to the local pub, thinking a pint would be a nice consolation price for the weather. There weren't many there, just the barman and another customer sitting in the corner. A flashback to the scene in The Lord of the Rings where Aragorn is introduced crosses my mind. I turn away, barely able to stifle my laughter at this, now, bit of a cliché scene.
I looked over at the strange man again, and felt like he were staring hard at me. I decided that the pint would be enjoyed regardless of how quickly I drank it.
So I did, slammed the money on the bar, saluted the barman and left.
Making sure the hood on my jacket was fully covering my head as I trotted along in the rain, I decided that I could do my shopping. Little did I know that the stranger from the bar were following me.
Filling my head with prospective song lyrics and humming to myself I went home to watch TV.
Not one of my most creative nights, I'll admit.
I was oblivious to the stranger outside, looking at me through my window, lurking, soaking wet.

Thunder rolled over the sky, like a a warm wool blanket over the world. I noticed how dark it suddenly had got. I turned off the TV and headed for bed, possibly less clever than before, and drifted to sleep.
The stranger outsid
e stood there, staring.
And I were sleeping. Unaware of my visitor.
A particularly loud thunder clap woke me up a couple of hours later and I decided that a glass of water would be brilliant right about now.

Outside the figure had vanished.

When I saw wet footprints on the floor, I became somewhat sceptical of my current situation. I put the glass down and quietly went into the kitchen to get a rolling pin.
Invigorated with a new sense of courage, I turned on the lights and saw that the footprints led to my bedroom.
The blood in my veins turned into ice as I went in, ready to strike.

But I never had the chance to strike. I fell to the floor and remained there.
They found me with a letter addressed to me in my hand.
No fingerprints but my own.

I guess I have learnt now, a little too late, that sending a letter to a belieber with obsessive-fanatic tendencies is a somewhat bad idea.

And whatever you do, DO NOT send the half-burnt stub of a ticket.

The mind of a crazy-person.

You've grown up, grown up to be one of the workers.
Like everybody else you've grown up to be the anonymous worker you've either always wanted to be or recently discovered you'd like to be.
Claim to be.
Claim to want.
Deceiving yourself to want.

Label yourself and blending in.

Contradictory. That's the way we like it.
The belief of a personality.
Being special.

Being.

Blending in, being special.
Like a snowflake. A snowflake in the sun.
Melting equally. Like the wicked witch of the west.


I have no idea what that was. But it was certainly as cheerful as a suicide note. Let's try that again.
Maybe a little cheerier this time.

I could talk about summer. How it makes my entire body swells up with allergies of the unknown variety, making me look more overweight than usual. Like a constant PMS-state of puffy bitchiness.
Getting crazier by the minute, the madness accelerating when "Hits for Kids" is being announced on TV, making whatever was on less attractive just because of that ad. Despairing for the kids today for listening to that sort of liquid shit.
Wondering if music is dead.
Summer is a lovely time. Time to have a vacation, relax and getting yelled at for not working.
I'll get a job, mum.
I'll become a full-time prostitute.
Not an escort, no. I want to be the cheap kind for your humiliation. Special offer today, you get a footrub and blowjob for only 100 kr!
Candy Sookalot. Greatest name ever. I'll call my prospective child that.
She'll be primary school's little diva.
When her brother finally joins she'll protect him. Bobby-Joe-Burton-Gordon-Burt is a tender flower, because of his mother's alcoholism.

Maybe I won't talk about summer after all...

Go forth, my children. Go forth and be anonymous.

Flat-plans

I can't begin to describe how ready I am to move into a flat of my very own. I have big plans of how I'd like it to be. So I'm gonna pink-blog a little with stolen photos from Google... As I have no way of taking these myself, the poor bastard I am....

So one of my childhood dreams is having my own library, filled to the brim with exciting books and atlases, with a giant map on the wall with pins in the places I've been, an old brass spyglass for the adventurer-feeling I'm sure we all secretly love from our childhood when we played pirates, spies or what have you. I love the look and feel of libraries, they are so calm and cozy. Imagine having a fireplace (however hazardous in a room full of books) that you can sit in front of, it's snowing outside, and you curl up by the fire with your favourite book in a room that smells like, well, old books. There is no finer smell.

I'd also like a mini-blackboard where I can write messages, shopping list and what have you. It's really rustic and very homey.
I can't wait to start drawing profanities on it, and eagerly push it in my visitor's face. Heh heh heh...

I'm only joking, of course...

 A bonsai tree. I have a soft spot for those bastards. They are so elegant, and after Stick, I feel like I need to keep one a little longer than 8 months before brutally killing it accidentally with balsam.

My sister pointed out to me that this is the 400-year-old Hiroshima bomb-surviving bonsai tree, which is hilarious. I guess I'm attracted to radioactive things. (I think the mushroom cloud of an atomic bomb is incredibly beautiful.) :P

 Attics! Love them! I would really love a spacious attic flat. This particular one looks like a kitchen. I like it. I especially like it when the wood beams are exposed, and the contrast between those and the white walls.

 I would have liked some herbs on the counter, like these, to add to the cooking, and add to the ambience of the room. There's nothing like a bit of fresh basil in your omelet is there?
I sure as heck am looking forward to that.







And of course a great big window you can spy at your neighbours from.
Imagine looking out from that, over the city scape of, say, New York. That must be gorgeous.
I really cannot wait until I can buy a place of my own. People may plan their weddings at the age of 5, but I planned out my flat. And I'd really like a nice one!




Well that's enough of that. Pink-blogging is fun for a little while. Though I suppose it's not proper pink blogging. I didn't find nail polish and bragged of how nice it looked without mentioning the name... Or a sweater.

Anyway, that's enough of that nonsense. 

INTRUDER ALERT!!!

It's true.
The South has been invaded by an alien appearance, quite intimidating and with terrible mounts of hellish power!

Malene!

This is the assailant. A mad, yet brilliant being, feared by many, killed by few. As she's still alive. Would make little sense if she was killed by many...
You can see the madness gleam through those goggles, can't you.. This is truly a foe to be feared. 

She rode her mighty steed into battle, with a fierce and firm grip on this hell-...horse's mane, safely guiding her forces into battle. Our numbers decreased alarmingly. How, we will never know, as their numbers were already fewer than ours, but they must have had some kind of magic on their side... Some kind of.. BLACK MAGIC!? (insert dramatic music here)

It was not pretty, the losses were unthinkable, yet she and her little army slew the southern army with deadly presicion.

A sort of dance were observed by some scouts prior to the battle. Performed mounted. Must be a part of the ritual. One can only assume this is what protected her fierce army...
The flailing arms and legs must be what strengthened our foes and made them swift and agile. Such a terrible sight, before our inevitable slaughter. The invasion was, regrettably, a success.
Malene fell too many of our people. The Skien air must have maddened her ears and scrambled her brains. Such a loss.

This is her dreaded army. Not fearing it would simply be foolish.
Their strength is undeniable. And fabulous.

Her army feasted upon our people's remains, so no burial were needed. Her fearless being surely recruited a lot of devilishly able, yet thirsty for blood, beings. Observe!

This swan and gull are visually harbouring ill feelings towards the scout. No wonder he never made it back alive... I hope you will heed this warning of Malene the Badass and her evil army. Beware especially her air-force. They are silent but deadly. Much like a fart. 

Overly Attatched Ponyjunk

Cheez doodles are not meant to look like this. I was rather disappointing when I saw this, and  think I need some emotional trauma-payback so I can possibly get by... Without going insane(r).
I love those bastards. Best cheese snack ever.

Oh, when I was visiting Malene, I discovered the best invention in the history of inventions. It was a baby-piano thing, and it had the best freaking sounds ever in the history of sounds!
It had COW DUBSTEP! Yep. It's beyond its time with the ol' dubstep.
It was amazing.

They have extremely credible hippo sounds too. Which I had to record... I recorded this for Alan, originally, so you get to hear my terrible voice in the beginning... And... Various places.... I apologise. Not giggling in the video took a lot of freaking willpower (it shattered in the end there, but... Well... Malene started fiddling with it, so I couldn't stop myself)

Aaaand some doomy music (again, sorry about the terrible voice-thing in there). I thought that piano was tons of fun. I can't even describe how awesome it was. Truly an amazing gadget. A musical ... rebellion..?
Er, yes. Sure....
I need to say how much I sacrifised to make this, though. Public humiliation by putting those bastards on YouTube, and everything.... My first ever YouTube videos.... It's scary. What if my future self finds them!? She'll be mortified. I can assure you bastards that.

I want this cat so much. You don't even understand how much I need it. It was so cute! He slept on my duvet and that means he's mine... Right?
It must mean that!
I can't wait until I can get a pet. To love. I HAVE SO MUCH LOVE TO GIVE!

...I think that was enough for today. Sayonara.

Haha-funny.

OK this is the scenario. Imagine somebody laughing out loud over something you said online.

Actually laughing.
And then proclaiming they did.

This makes me behave extremely silly. Or should I say awkward... I try to steer away from awkward as best as I can as it is so incredibly... Awkward... To be awkward! ...Fancy that....
Anyway, it's like a reward!
Don't get me wrong, I love hearing about it if I make a funny joke, it's just the fact that they are actually stating the fact that they laughed loudly about something I said.
That definitely puts me on the spot and pressures me into having to be more funny because that is apparently what I am now.
What they don't realise is that they have doomed my funniness.
From then on it's only god-awful jokes, their concept only half-made-up in my head, spouting like weed and spewed out like bug-repellent!
It's a fate worse than death. 

Don't get me wrong, I love hearing about it if I make a funny joke, it's just the fact that I am wired so weirdly I have to be stupid about it.

The end.

Here's a picture of my birthday muffins! Courtesy of Malene, that gorgeous bastard.

Such a lovely man.

Another rant. You're welcome. I seem to come across knob-heads a lot these days...

I took the bus to Oslo a week ago, give or take a few days, from Skjeldsvik in Skien.
We were told we'd have to wait for another bus because this one was jam packed with baddies, which is fine, because you know, it happens.
The helpful bus driver telling us this asked us where we were going, and I answered "Oslo" in belief that the Oslo area was included in this and it wasn't a description exclusive to the bus terminal.
When the new bus came, he took our luggage and put it in the bus.

What a nice guy. He could steal our luggage now if he really wanted to... Ah, I know his face, I thought happily whilst boarding the bus.

The drive in itself wasn't too bad if you don't count boringness, but when I got to the stop in Lysaker (WHICH IS OSLO AS FAR AS I'M AWARE), I soon discovered that the helpful bus driver had put my luggage in on the wrong side...
Shit.
I told the current bus driver this, and he got mad and said "Well we can't take it out here! Cars drive by like maniacs here! At a 100 km/h! They could chop your legs off!"
I asked "Well... What do I do..?" with my heart sinking, knowing I would have to call my aunt who was picking me up from there, and having to face her wrath.
He retorted "You will have to come with us to the next stop. Get on the bus now."
I answered "I need to call someone, I'm meant to be picked up!" and started calling her.
He furiously wheezed "What are you doing!? Get on the bus! You are wasting our time!" Which is fair, I probably was, but he could have been more polite and actually being helpful going about this whole thing instead of biting my head off.

Whilst on the phone I walked towards the hatch where the luggage was, I tried to open it, as a last-try to get my luggage, he stormed over. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" he spat viciously.
Was he about to fucking punch me!? I was actually a little scared of the man.
I said, trying to be calm (probably failing, my lid was boiling pretty fiercely at this point, so my replies weren't exactly sugar sweet) "Can I try and drag it out myself, from this side?"
He opened it (thank god) and I managed to struggle it out between girders and other luggage.
(I was sure he would close the hatch behind me and kidnap me to the other stop whilst I was in there... That man was not stable.)

Well out of that exhaust-filled hell-hole, I was stopped.
Ah, you liked me so much, you'd like to converse further? Brilliant.
"Why did you say 'yes' when I asked you if you were going to the bus terminal?"
"You never asked me!" I replied, in a clearly annoyed tone of voice, I'll admit.
"Oh yes, when you boarded on Fokserød (a busstop 1-2 hours away from Skjelsvik? Maybe? Not too sure, but it is a pretty nice while between them), I asked you if you were going to the bus terminal and you answered yes." he retorted.

Fokserød?
Yep, this man is pulling strings out of thin air.

I answered truthfully (and rather angrily) that "I boarded on Skjeldsvik, and I was never asked." where he retorted that "No, I asked everyone."
"Well you certainly didn't ask me"
My aunt had arrived then, shouting my name, so I just left, as he ran into the bus, racing away.

I have never experienced this level of professionalism.
Sarcasm.


The company apologised, though, which is appreciated.
However, the rather poor excuse of him being "so scared of what would happen, resulted in high adrenalin in his body" they can take back with a "fuck you."

"Looking back we see that this could have been solved differently"
YA THINK?

So that was today's rant. MorWay buss express (name slightly altered) can suck my respective balls.

THE JOURNEY OF LIFE!

Apart from the extreme sarcasm of the title..:  It seems that I wasn't completely done travelling.
Will stay in Skien a couple of days, with my best friend, Malene (Link to blog), before I proceed to Oslo and then back to Swansea. Which will be good. Hopefully will get to see sisters and friends, pimps and hoes, bangers and mash.... You know, the usual.
It's a shame that the stay down south was cut so short, and there were a couple of people I'd like to see that I didn't get to, unfortunately.
But "shit happens" as they say.
"Can't go die in a bush over the smallest obstacles", as they also like to say. 

It is also my 25th birthday. Fucking hell. 25 years! That's mental!
I'm old!
Old and decrepit.
Malene and I will probably have a "jolly good time" with our pipes, hats and whiskey. Because we're now both old. Yeah that's right, I'm calling you old, Malene. You old fart.
Yes, cane's at the ready, glasses at our disposal.
Checking each other's hair for grey's in the style of monkeys...
Ohh yeah, I forgot about the wrinkles. It's very important to examine those bastards. And naturally moan about them.
Moaning about wrinkles is the best cure for them.

When in doubt: Moan.

Joys of travel.

I'm here to tell you about the joys of travelling and what to bring on your adventures.
That's right. Brace yourself.

For this you will need: 
1x suitcase
1x chainsaw
2x pants
5x tissues
1x hygiene gel containing alcohol
1x moisturiser
2x handcuffs
1x whip
1x book
4x hair-bands
17x knives hidden around on your body (preferably plastic)
1x wire, type barbed
1x computer
1x list of complete and utter bollocks

There's nothing better than to sit in a train carriage with a rather, let's say rambunctious child, or children... Listening to their parents trying to shut them up, then retaliating by screaming even louder.
That happened to me. A train-cart with two screaming kids and a baby. Jumping out the window was looking particularly tempting that time. The mother couldn't even be arsed to try and make her kids shut up, which was delightful.
If this happens to you, I suggest you lure these little monsters with you into the train toilet, pretending to be their mother or something on the way there and enjoy tying them up with their face in the toilet itself, leave them there and enjoy the train ride in peace. You should possibly also wear a hood or something and make sure you don't leave any fingerprints, at this point... I'm not sure that is completely legal.
It's also probably the most attention they've ever got, bless them.
Neglect is a beautiful thing.

Ah, kids. Enchanting creatures.
I say 'creatures' with the greatest respect for their parents.
And of course sitting down until your bum goes numb, your hands covered in what you hope to be your own sweat and not a million other people's ...gunk...
When you finally arrive or get closer to your destination, this passive state has made you worn out, all clumsy when you walk (because you no longer can feel your arse or thighs) and uncertain of life itself.
You could probably add sanity to that too, actually.

That last piece of stretch between you and home/hotel/friend's house/whatever seems so close, yet so far away. You just can't wait until you get there so you can finally wash your hands and blow that god damn nose of yours!
That's right.
Because over the course of your journey, all sorts of black shit has sneaked up in there.
Unless you snort cocaine, I guess...
I actually have no idea what the mucus of a cocaine-user look like, I was just making a joke because cocaine is white and the exhaust-city-travel-dust isn't.
HAHA GREY SNOT!
Apparently that happens a lot when you live in a city.
Not the cocaine snorting, but the grey snot... There probably is a lot of cocaine abuse too though, which is of course, unfortunate. But you can't really do much about that, now, can you. Who will they listen to, in all honesty? You? The random blabbering idiot or the nice familiar warm embrace that is their addiction?

Sweating profusely whilst getting sick > feeling fine with the occasional buzz? Definitely.

So, Billy, what have you learnt today? That's right, don't ever try to save your fellow human beings. Because they think you are a bee.
Why a bee?
Because they are bee-utiful, that's why.

Oh dear.
I guess this is what happens when I decide to update my blog at 4 am...

Second year

It's the last night in Swansea, now, and this year I've met so many incredible people. I can't believe the second year of university in Britain is over! One year left!
Only one measly little year!
It's breaking my cold little stone heart. I love the people here, (well, most of them) they are almost like family. Like a lovely lovely bunch of pervy-minded family members. Those fucking bastards.
Done so much fun, enjoyed this year so much.
Found a bunch of pictures summing it up this year without too many people in them, as asking a buttload of people just before posting this bastard of a post to put them on my blog is too much of a hassle at this moment in time and space. Will probably do one later though, when the need for their attention is unbearable, and another second without will surely make me whither away.

And without sarcasm now...
Ce ça, les photos extraordinaire!
(Because it couldn't get more obnoxious, no. I needed to add that bit of French to make sure I came across a colossal tit.)

Bored

Perils of performing

Sanity

108!

Beach-time wisdom

Townhill Campus

Señor Lemón

A Doll's House! (Literally)

Ciwi the pirate

PILLOW FORT!

Don't blink. Blink and you're dead.

Constitution Hill is blue this early, apparently.

The last couple of days have been sad, the third years are leaving and will probably never see some of them again, which is naturally sad, like it was the year before.
This year's third-years were a lot more sociable than they were last year when they were second years, I noticed. Which I'm happy about, as I got to meet some interesting new characters. Very talented people.
It's mental that we're up now, for Unknown Pleasures and other major projects. I can't believe it's been two years already. It is literally blowing my tiny little mind to pieces thinking about that.

It's been a great fucking year. Of course it's had its fair share of drama, but with this energetic bunch of people this close together... It's bound to happen.
Living with some of them has been pretty annoying at times, but I can honestly say I enjoyed it more than not. All in all it was only the cleaning that was my biggest beef with them. But they are grand as all hell. Love them all to bits.

So, now it is back to Norway, hopefully getting a job for the summer.
I really hope to see my uni family again soon, those wonderful bastards.
Well. Enough soppy for one post.
Will have to write an angry letter next with a lot of swearing to make up for it.
It's not easy being green.