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.