Nasal Armageddon
Death Slowly Approaching
It's Man-flu Season.
Friday, 6 November 2015
Saturday, 17 October 2015
An Ode to Woolen Socks.
So as the year has slowly, yet rapidly progressed, there is one constant I have been without. A constant in my life I have yet to touch, to cradle in my weirdly long and stick-ish toes, woolen socks.
I miss my woollen socks.
All of 'em.
I can't begin to describe the pure bliss of just smacking on a pair of them and stroll around like a fucking boss. Because that is what you become.
Woollen socks make you a boss.
A champion.
A winner.
The top dog.
Number one.
The victor.
The wo/man.
Hell yeah! What's not to love!?
I miss them. Woollen socks, man. Woollen socks.
OH MY GOD I NEED MY WOOLLEN SOCKS, I AM, LIKE, CRAVING THEM, SOMEWHAT! LIKE A CHOCOLATE BAR (WHICH INCIDENTALLY I AM ALSO CRAVING. JESUS CHRIST ON A STICK, I NEED ALL THE MONEY TO BUY ALL THE CHOCOLATES!!) ONLY IT'S FOR MY FEET! AAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaa...!
Yeah. This was written like a week/two weeks ago, my mind was ridden with madness from not having super-warm feet. This is my mind, dudes.
My sanity has probably knit itself a warm and cosy area in my brain where it hangs out. Impenetrable by all outside forces. That's wool for ya. Impenetrable from the outside. They should make bullet-proof vests out of it. Otherwise known as "vests".
Take my word for it. I know what I am talking about.
Well.
I should mention my feet are now cloaked by the delicious wool my forefathers made. From the deepest valleys to the highest mountains, the sheep grassed and grew stronger and more powerful wool than anyone could have anticipated. Little did they know that as their wool grew stronger so did they. They soon took to underground laboratories and made nuclear weapons in order to defend themselves, and soon colonized the entire north of Norway, Sweden, most of Finland and a bit of Russia. They bred into a new breed of sheep called DooMSHEEP:
"Definitely out of Malice, Sheep Hastily Eating Electric Plugs". As you can tell, they don't particularly care for Electric Plugs for some reason. Or maybe they like them a little too much? I guess that is one of those things we'll never really know the answer to.
There have been biologists tracking these sheep down and only one has successfully come back with photographic evidence:
Don't they look Ba-ad?
I am not sorry.
Anyway, the ol' ancestors figured out a way to harvest their wool somehow. They stored it in the family Vault/Bunker of Riches, which my family has taken stuff out of for as long as we have kept track of. It's a pretty big vault. Not gonna lie. Well, the socks they made from this wool was so soft and so good at not sucking that they have knitted them for generations. We have a apretty good history of not getting shot where it matters because of it. Which is nice. Nobody wants a toe-less day-to-day existence. The grammar there was flawless.
The socks have been restored now, however.
I am enjoying the sense of safeness now.
I can finally go out and kick people again. I am so happy.
I miss my woollen socks.
All of 'em.
I can't begin to describe the pure bliss of just smacking on a pair of them and stroll around like a fucking boss. Because that is what you become.
Woollen socks make you a boss.
A champion.
A winner.
The top dog.
Number one.
The victor.
The wo/man.
Hell yeah! What's not to love!?
I miss them. Woollen socks, man. Woollen socks.
OH MY GOD I NEED MY WOOLLEN SOCKS, I AM, LIKE, CRAVING THEM, SOMEWHAT! LIKE A CHOCOLATE BAR (WHICH INCIDENTALLY I AM ALSO CRAVING. JESUS CHRIST ON A STICK, I NEED ALL THE MONEY TO BUY ALL THE CHOCOLATES!!) ONLY IT'S FOR MY FEET! AAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaa...!
-------------------------------------------------------
Yeah. This was written like a week/two weeks ago, my mind was ridden with madness from not having super-warm feet. This is my mind, dudes.
My sanity has probably knit itself a warm and cosy area in my brain where it hangs out. Impenetrable by all outside forces. That's wool for ya. Impenetrable from the outside. They should make bullet-proof vests out of it. Otherwise known as "vests".
Take my word for it. I know what I am talking about.
Well.
I should mention my feet are now cloaked by the delicious wool my forefathers made. From the deepest valleys to the highest mountains, the sheep grassed and grew stronger and more powerful wool than anyone could have anticipated. Little did they know that as their wool grew stronger so did they. They soon took to underground laboratories and made nuclear weapons in order to defend themselves, and soon colonized the entire north of Norway, Sweden, most of Finland and a bit of Russia. They bred into a new breed of sheep called DooMSHEEP:
"Definitely out of Malice, Sheep Hastily Eating Electric Plugs". As you can tell, they don't particularly care for Electric Plugs for some reason. Or maybe they like them a little too much? I guess that is one of those things we'll never really know the answer to.
There have been biologists tracking these sheep down and only one has successfully come back with photographic evidence:
I am not sorry.
Anyway, the ol' ancestors figured out a way to harvest their wool somehow. They stored it in the family Vault/Bunker of Riches, which my family has taken stuff out of for as long as we have kept track of. It's a pretty big vault. Not gonna lie. Well, the socks they made from this wool was so soft and so good at not sucking that they have knitted them for generations. We have a apretty good history of not getting shot where it matters because of it. Which is nice. Nobody wants a toe-less day-to-day existence. The grammar there was flawless.
The socks have been restored now, however.
I am enjoying the sense of safeness now.
I can finally go out and kick people again. I am so happy.
Saturday, 18 July 2015
I MOVED!
... In May!
But still, this is valid!
I was still sleeping on an air mattress courteously lent to me by my aunt (thank you, thank you!) up until a few days ago. After a month of sleeping on something that feels like a pee-sheet, I need to leave the moisture be. I am kind of in need of de-moisturization. Totally a thing. Not really. I just like being crude, I'm sorry.
I currently live with a folk high school mate, Erika, and her mate Martin, which is nice. It's like a big giant circle of love. Because why wouldn't a circle be love. Or vice versa.
Getting out of Søgne is kinda nice, but it's good to see the old chums again after all this time. Been too long, in fact.
We got a really nice flat between Carl Berner and Birkelunden and have been jamming all sorts of crap into it. It's amazing.
I also got a cat. Kvikk Lunsj. She is adorable. And totally not as lame as Nuka. She likes to cuddle. I like affectionate things. I miss Nuka though. The little shit. Apparently he likes to cuddle now as well. Which makes me angry. He should have been trained better to know his master. Which is me, of course. And everyone knows. Or should know.
I went home on a bit of a spur of the moment holiday. The first thing my cat does is run out the window, hang out on the roof and then either fall off or jump off it. 5 days it took her to run into a cat trap.
Well. We had the trap a day. So technically it only took her a couple of hours. But, you know. 5 days in the "wilderness". Little shit. Probably totes preggo in the eggo.
Hopefully will get a lot of boat-trips and niceness and possibly crabs, because crabs is the best thing in the world. Woo! Summer! I like summer. A lot. Like a friend.
But still, this is valid!
I was still sleeping on an air mattress courteously lent to me by my aunt (thank you, thank you!) up until a few days ago. After a month of sleeping on something that feels like a pee-sheet, I need to leave the moisture be. I am kind of in need of de-moisturization. Totally a thing. Not really. I just like being crude, I'm sorry.
I currently live with a folk high school mate, Erika, and her mate Martin, which is nice. It's like a big giant circle of love. Because why wouldn't a circle be love. Or vice versa.
Getting out of Søgne is kinda nice, but it's good to see the old chums again after all this time. Been too long, in fact.
We got a really nice flat between Carl Berner and Birkelunden and have been jamming all sorts of crap into it. It's amazing.
I also got a cat. Kvikk Lunsj. She is adorable. And totally not as lame as Nuka. She likes to cuddle. I like affectionate things. I miss Nuka though. The little shit. Apparently he likes to cuddle now as well. Which makes me angry. He should have been trained better to know his master. Which is me, of course. And everyone knows. Or should know.
I went home on a bit of a spur of the moment holiday. The first thing my cat does is run out the window, hang out on the roof and then either fall off or jump off it. 5 days it took her to run into a cat trap.
Well. We had the trap a day. So technically it only took her a couple of hours. But, you know. 5 days in the "wilderness". Little shit. Probably totes preggo in the eggo.
Hopefully will get a lot of boat-trips and niceness and possibly crabs, because crabs is the best thing in the world. Woo! Summer! I like summer. A lot. Like a friend.
Friday, 10 April 2015
#Domestic
Maybe I should address not saying a tweedle for 3 months, but I'm not going to.
Instead I am going to talk about life.
Life as we all know it.
That's right, the Sims.
My poor family is going through some troubles. And as I am sure everyone in the world, ever, cares about my Sims family, I don't see any reason at all not to write about them. I want to apologise for the un-screenshotted phone pictures but I was literally too lazy to make screenshots of this.
Anyway this all happened, or should I say, started to happen a time I had my eye on someone else, one of their children. God knows exactly what happened, but all of a sudden Husband and Wife were in the red. No longer on 100, but rather -100. It was a tragedy. Millie (the wife) tried to worry about the relationship, but Thomas would have nothing of it. Basically shouted "DENIED!" in her face. She apologised and apologised. He would have nothing of it.
I decided to go creative and used a potion of Friendship on her, hoping that would ease the blow a little. It helped a fraction, however they still won't even have a normal conversation. Only "getting to know" them and random "Salutes". It is all very strange.
Millie stays in bed, day and night out of sadness and frustration. I suspect she has got a bit of a depression. Woe is them. What caused their relationship to go the drain like this!?
Words spread fast, and soon the whole neighbourhood found out about their slowly cracking marriage. Rather than worry they gossip. What a cruel, cruel town.
However as the Leader of the Free World, Millie is subjected to a lot of that. Married to a Master Psychic, they have gotten a lot of raised eyebrows in their time. However their love conquered that... Until now!
Thomas started mistreating his children, he neglected them, he fought with them, he gave them the lip, he was a certified asshole.
Then the day of their graduation came.
They were free. Millie wept with joy, proud of her children and their accomplishments, Thomas grumbled a quiet "proud of you" to them.
The children love their mother, but their father? No couldn't stand him. He had changed.
After they got their diplomas their mind were made up. They subsequently kissed their mother's cheek and gave their father the stink-eye and moved out.
The reason for why he had changed is still a mystery, however a strange blue glow has been observed around him at weird times...
So an obvious solution, I figured, was to bring in Millie's ex-husband and some of their kids into the house. I mean if Thomas really wanted a bit of a challenge, then I will give it to him.
To be continued...?
Edit: Not to be continued! I found the reason why! HIS PROFESSION! He was a master Psychic or whatever the English version of that thing is, and apparently that makes a lot of people hate you! Amazing! So I made him quit his job and their love life is back to normal! They did their woohoo's and after he wet himself. Casual Wednesday....
Instead I am going to talk about life.
Life as we all know it.
That's right, the Sims.
My poor family is going through some troubles. And as I am sure everyone in the world, ever, cares about my Sims family, I don't see any reason at all not to write about them. I want to apologise for the un-screenshotted phone pictures but I was literally too lazy to make screenshots of this.
Anyway this all happened, or should I say, started to happen a time I had my eye on someone else, one of their children. God knows exactly what happened, but all of a sudden Husband and Wife were in the red. No longer on 100, but rather -100. It was a tragedy. Millie (the wife) tried to worry about the relationship, but Thomas would have nothing of it. Basically shouted "DENIED!" in her face. She apologised and apologised. He would have nothing of it.I decided to go creative and used a potion of Friendship on her, hoping that would ease the blow a little. It helped a fraction, however they still won't even have a normal conversation. Only "getting to know" them and random "Salutes". It is all very strange.
Words spread fast, and soon the whole neighbourhood found out about their slowly cracking marriage. Rather than worry they gossip. What a cruel, cruel town.
However as the Leader of the Free World, Millie is subjected to a lot of that. Married to a Master Psychic, they have gotten a lot of raised eyebrows in their time. However their love conquered that... Until now!
Thomas started mistreating his children, he neglected them, he fought with them, he gave them the lip, he was a certified asshole.
Then the day of their graduation came.They were free. Millie wept with joy, proud of her children and their accomplishments, Thomas grumbled a quiet "proud of you" to them.
The children love their mother, but their father? No couldn't stand him. He had changed.
After they got their diplomas their mind were made up. They subsequently kissed their mother's cheek and gave their father the stink-eye and moved out.
The reason for why he had changed is still a mystery, however a strange blue glow has been observed around him at weird times...So an obvious solution, I figured, was to bring in Millie's ex-husband and some of their kids into the house. I mean if Thomas really wanted a bit of a challenge, then I will give it to him.
To be continued...?
Edit: Not to be continued! I found the reason why! HIS PROFESSION! He was a master Psychic or whatever the English version of that thing is, and apparently that makes a lot of people hate you! Amazing! So I made him quit his job and their love life is back to normal! They did their woohoo's and after he wet himself. Casual Wednesday....
Wednesday, 31 December 2014
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year!
How weird. Christmas was just here, now it's not. It's pretty close to not even being this freaking year! What! One year closer to oblivion. Death and destruction. Just what you want on a merry New Year's eve.
Ask and ye shall receive.
You have officially received.
Up the bum.
Well this turned weird fast. I should apologise but I won't.
I am currently at a mate's cabin in the middle of absolute fucking nowhere and it is (both the cabin and being here) amazing. We have eaten so many nice courses of food (hah. What else would there be many nice courses of, really? Can you use the word "courses" for anything but food? All the questions. All of them.) as well as sweets and other yummy unhealthy food (kinda goes hand-in-hand doesn't it. A lot of the time anyway.). A lot of onion has happened. Holy shit. I am literally carrying the smell of seven diseased trolls in my pores. No not the seven dwarves, no, trolls. You'll know by the smell. Honest to Jezeus. Dwarves leave your skin all nice and shimmery. It's from all the gems and gold and shite. And beer. Beer is apparently great for your skin. Honest. Trolls are just festering pustules of dirt and grub. Nothing good comes of them. Except maybe the satisfaction of knowing they will be exterminated (EXTERMINATE!) after a shower. Oooh showers. They can't stand'em. They make them explode like blisters under pressure. Truly magnificent to watch, though I'd definitely suggest bringing a raincoat or an umbrella. Or both. Preferably both to be honest. Then again people tend to frown upon other people watching them in the shower. Something about privacy... I don't know. People are strange.
Well enough about my BO (I realise I am one classy shit. What a Lady. Holy shit). Let's continue that next year. Which reminds me, HAPPY NEW YEAR! ...again!
Holy shit, 2015. Only around two hours away at present state in time and space.
Soon people will be proclaiming their New Year's resolutions all over social media's, to which I wish them very good luck. I personally am not too fussed about them. I never had that tradition. If I get any goals then I am going after it whether it is January 1st or 47th of October, also known as November 16, but October 47 sounds a lot more fun and exciting. It probably isn't though. I mean, unless a tsunami hits Canada and tornado's start roamin' the skies I doubt it'll be too adrenaline-filled honestly. But you never know. There might be an exciting road trip down a cliff side ending in an unfortunate way for your car (not you. You are invincible. Immortal. ...Other adjectives.) or perhaps a tractor were taking up the road and precariously filled up the bridge you were far too stubborn to wait to drive over. Bridges without railings are such a problem in Norway today...
Yes. Lies aside, I hope none of that will happen. As much as I want to see a tornado, I'd honestly rather not see one here. Holy shit tornado's are cool. Like volcanoes. Only it's full-on air-doom. Not earth-doom with a hint of air-doom. Doom. Doom is a great word. I feel like people don't appreciate that word as much anymore. Doom. It just explains it all. I wish all words were/are like that. Bugger it all.
Right. Well, enjoy the fireworks,
enjoy the drink,
enjoy life,
enjoy the company,
enjoy the food,
enjoy the fisting.
Happy fucking new year you big bastard.
Kawaheehooowallahiihaw
How weird. Christmas was just here, now it's not. It's pretty close to not even being this freaking year! What! One year closer to oblivion. Death and destruction. Just what you want on a merry New Year's eve.
Ask and ye shall receive.
You have officially received.
Up the bum.
Well this turned weird fast. I should apologise but I won't.
I am currently at a mate's cabin in the middle of absolute fucking nowhere and it is (both the cabin and being here) amazing. We have eaten so many nice courses of food (hah. What else would there be many nice courses of, really? Can you use the word "courses" for anything but food? All the questions. All of them.) as well as sweets and other yummy unhealthy food (kinda goes hand-in-hand doesn't it. A lot of the time anyway.). A lot of onion has happened. Holy shit. I am literally carrying the smell of seven diseased trolls in my pores. No not the seven dwarves, no, trolls. You'll know by the smell. Honest to Jezeus. Dwarves leave your skin all nice and shimmery. It's from all the gems and gold and shite. And beer. Beer is apparently great for your skin. Honest. Trolls are just festering pustules of dirt and grub. Nothing good comes of them. Except maybe the satisfaction of knowing they will be exterminated (EXTERMINATE!) after a shower. Oooh showers. They can't stand'em. They make them explode like blisters under pressure. Truly magnificent to watch, though I'd definitely suggest bringing a raincoat or an umbrella. Or both. Preferably both to be honest. Then again people tend to frown upon other people watching them in the shower. Something about privacy... I don't know. People are strange.
Well enough about my BO (I realise I am one classy shit. What a Lady. Holy shit). Let's continue that next year. Which reminds me, HAPPY NEW YEAR! ...again!
Holy shit, 2015. Only around two hours away at present state in time and space.
Soon people will be proclaiming their New Year's resolutions all over social media's, to which I wish them very good luck. I personally am not too fussed about them. I never had that tradition. If I get any goals then I am going after it whether it is January 1st or 47th of October, also known as November 16, but October 47 sounds a lot more fun and exciting. It probably isn't though. I mean, unless a tsunami hits Canada and tornado's start roamin' the skies I doubt it'll be too adrenaline-filled honestly. But you never know. There might be an exciting road trip down a cliff side ending in an unfortunate way for your car (not you. You are invincible. Immortal. ...Other adjectives.) or perhaps a tractor were taking up the road and precariously filled up the bridge you were far too stubborn to wait to drive over. Bridges without railings are such a problem in Norway today...
Yes. Lies aside, I hope none of that will happen. As much as I want to see a tornado, I'd honestly rather not see one here. Holy shit tornado's are cool. Like volcanoes. Only it's full-on air-doom. Not earth-doom with a hint of air-doom. Doom. Doom is a great word. I feel like people don't appreciate that word as much anymore. Doom. It just explains it all. I wish all words were/are like that. Bugger it all.
Right. Well, enjoy the fireworks,
enjoy the drink,
enjoy life,
enjoy the company,
enjoy the food,
enjoy the fisting.
Happy fucking new year you big bastard.
Kawaheehooowallahiihaw
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