Puffed rice is actually quite nice I think, it's cheap and chewy and it can be used for all sorts of things. Like pillow-stuffing, imitation maggots, navel fluff substitute, to dam up when you're having a nosebleed, and when you are in the need of cellulites and you can't wait for it and you can just stick some puffed rice under your skin right away. Puffed rice also sounds to straightforward to be real, it sounds like a codename for a drug. It really does.
On the other hand I think maybe I was having a bit of a trip there because I honestly can’t remember using any oil paint during my childhood.
Christmas gets it name from the chemical element Christmasium. Christmasium has the unique property that it will radiate energy when cooled down, rather than being heated up, as is the case with most other substances. This energy is radiated as cherub-waves, which look like this:
When cherub-waves hit other particles, it first transforms into light. If this light hits particles with specific properties, such as for example the carbon compounds found in sugar, then this light will transform further into joy and happiness. This is why children often are happier than adults at Christmas, as the sugar levels in their blood generally is higher.
Christmasium is created under high pressure and temperature over 200 hectic millimetres under the surface of the earth. Since gold and diamond is created under the same circumstances, christmasium will often contain traces of these matters, causing christmasium to glow and sparkle. Arctic areas, such as the north pole, northern Norway and Finland is known have large concentrations of christmasium in the ground, and many people in these areas make a living by extracting it. Uncovering it is usually done by keeping large herds of reindeer which will dig for it with their hooves. The christmasium must then be kept warm in order to contain its energy.
Christmas has been known to man for millennia. The first descriptions of the substance can be found in old Egyptian hieroglyphs, and there are also references to christmasium in Roman recordings of Hannibal's crossing of the Alps. However, it was not until year 643 AD that the matter was determined as a chemical element. This was done by the viking chemist Gveirdfinn Sveleson. The vikings had mined christmasium for many years before that, and it is believed that the goal of Gveirdfinn's research to was to improve the efficiency of the mining processes, as the vikings had recently begun to export it to foreign countries. The vikings called the substance «Jol», as it was stored and used in great quantities during their annual mid-winter feasts, Joleblot. Gveirfinn thus gave it the chemical name Jolium. He writes in his chemical journal; «Gvanungar heitar rakti, honungor rakjt vitjahord.» No one has any idea what that is supposed to mean, but modern linguists has said that if they were to have a wild guess, they would guess it meant something like «I once bought a spoon, and it was
The first mention of the name christmasium being used is found in a Catholic church book from the late 900's, where it is described that the bride was given by the groom «4 pounds of the purest christmas, kept in crates of stone filled with hot coals to contain its heavenly powers» (translated from old latin).
It is believed that as Christianity adopted the tradition of a mid-winter feast, it also adopted the use of Jolium, as the vikings did much trade with European countries at this time. The ending of the word quickly disappeared in common use, and today it is simply known as Christmas.
Remember to visit Auduns blog at www.Dontstabmeplix.blogspot.com or www.Lamegunner.com!!
Having long legs is a great thing, really, I pride myself on my legs. Whenever I’m buying trousers I feel like I’m on a treasure hunt, or, a desperately hungry grandparent looking for his teeth. It’s like looking for a trampoline in a mine shaft, yeah? It’s basically not happening. You never really find the things you’re searching for. Or, actually that’s not true, I do find trousers that fit, even though they would only fit ideally on a giraffe and I have to get them from a friend at the zoo – it’s not a problem. And having long legs is really nice, I mean if you’re swimming from a sunken ship after a terrible storm you’ll reach shore faster, wont you? Yeah, because you hit the bottom sooner. It’s fantastic. And you can use them to stake for corpses whenever there’s a search on for a dead body in the river. When someone’s gaping, all purple and swollen, lying on the bottom with all the fishes – it’s hard to evade a pair of pin-point precision stalks as those I carry with me all the time.
Well, stalks wouldn’t really be correct word here, that makes it sound as if my legs are made of twigs, which they are not. They’re more like five elevator cables wound together to a bouquet of steel – though not as impressive as it sounds, but as thick as it sounds. You have to keep your career options open these days I heard, and it’s great to have natural assets like skin stilts to aid you then. You out of a job, what do you do? “Need a lift? Need an oil-rig? Look! You think I’m in deep shit, well look at you, you’re waist-deep!” Right? There’s no end to the possibilities. Or, they end where your calves connect with the heels. Heels are nice, I once wore a pair of heels, I am thinking of high heels, naturally, not some other persons heels. That’s crazy! Why did you think of that? But anyway, it was back when I was small, a child or something a bit bigger with a slyer grin, when I was in a time of my life where I grew several centimeters at a time. So when I wore heels I became taller than everybody else, it was just that when I took them off again I was still taller. And that was frightening in many ways, I still had fresh in my mind the time I looked up at door handles or could easily walk upright underneath a car, but then suddenly I had the voice of a Peruvian boxer and the beard of a sailor. No wait, I am thinking of some other time. It gets confusing in the end, when you get old like that. But my legs were longer, and so I crossed the road by only tilting my knee and I got an icecream or some green tea – I heard tea makes you stop growing. We’ll see about that.
This very rare and twisted specimen makes you wonder; “What was going on in His mind when He created this… this… thing?” well… either He had too much of the Absolut*, or He fell down the stairs.
Already as a 5 year old, the Tora develops the strange phenomenon; Twisted-ness.
The twisted-ness is a hormone that goes to the brain, and obtains complete control of the body. The first sign is when the Tora cuts off ONE of her pigtails. Fascinating indeed.
Now… The Tora often has family. In this case; a little brother, a bigger brother and a bigger sister. Since I am the little brother, I must say; I am lucky to have a Tora as a bigger sister, but… have you EVER tried to do your homework while you sister is sitting next to you while trying to shove an entire orange into her mouth?
Though at the bottom, the exhausted squeaky toys that Tora is using as a heart-- are lovely beings.
Cellulite describes a condition that occurs in men and women (although much more common in women)".
I'm 13, soon 14 years old, average graded, and extremely in love with my hair. Wait.. did I write that out loud?
But the theme for my post is Brits! Yes, the pint drinking, noisy, bald brits! these lovely people are my favourite kind of personalities. and that's not even considering the language and slang! I bet there are like 1002 words for queer in English! And there is of course the other kind of brits. the kind and cheeky species, that is all fun to talk to and hang out with. good examples of these are Foss, and Josh. I only know them through Tora, but still, they are after my opinion "perfect" brits.
British is also the best language for making twisted and fun insults!
My favourite insult is to skinheads (quoting from Black Books) ;
"When you guys do your usual threesome thingy in the weekends, and the moonlight bounces off you heads 'n arses, doesn't that get a bit confusing?"
Well I know it's not perfect, it's quite fat and it looks like a house, but I wont hear nothing about it. One of the sides is covered in licorice, but I forgot to take a picture of that, so I'll add it later! Guess we'll be spending Christmas eve on another planet! Pretty cool. huh?
The edge of space is naturally covered in sweets and otherwise made of plastic.
Eve worked in a large shopping mart. Every single morning, when the sun was still a pinkish haze through the pollution -she drove the short route through the concrete maze and parked in front of the neon-flashing chaos that was the liquor store. With the click of worn, cheap shoes she strode over the vast parking lot and around to the back of the mart, where it smelled rotten and fishy. The following bit she never remembered, because she was usually too tired. But before she knew it she was seated beneath the penetrating ceiling lights of Shop Smart Super Mart, bipping groceries past the cashier and watching people fumble for their wallets.
In addition to getting half an hour for lunch, five minutes for smokes and special offers on Shop Smart Super Mart’s own brand products (like the “Smart Shopping Super Easy Chicken Pastry Pasties 0.79$” and such) – she also got to wear their striped, red uniform. And she had been particularly lucky to get one that was at least two sizes too big, and a little stiff. So when she sat down by the cashier it looked like she was wearing a striped, red tent with “It Makes Sense to Be Smart - Choose Super Mart™” printed on the back.
”This swamp is disgusting!” she hollered to nobody in particular. She stood to her knees in the semi-yellow, slimey substances that covered the surface underneath the low ferns and the stalked flowers enveloping the misty wetness of the planet Schloorg. With much difficulty she managed to haul herself up from the sucking mass that bubbled with mysterious appetite. Small insects whirred and zoomed in and out of sight in the clampy mist. The sky was grey and empty, though still – mostly wet. Her shiny spaceship stood parked some way off, she had managed to steer it down on a patch of ground that didn’t immediately sink into the muddy masses below. Her cook, Flatch Estavado was unsuccessfully attempting to pick an eggplant-like vegetable from through an open window in the ship. -“Captain!” He shouted, though the fog seemed to devour most of the sound. “Captain! The- what is that?- Eew! –The roasted Uqail is ready!” He tried to shake off the pink slime that had covered his arm when the eggplant had exploded without warning.
It was at the dodgy end of Begonia lane, the lane edged with pumpkin patches and old, crooked oaks. The worn down, muddy street in the district of continuous autumn, where the crisp, dry leaves from the trees always flutter aimlessly in the wind.
In Forever Autumn the trees blush in fiery colours, wilt, then blush again – without ever sprouting or blooming. You see, this is because Forever-Autumn is the origin of everything that represents autumn and reflects the image of the world’s way to display the process from summer to winter. There is never summer in Forever-Autumn, there is no spring, no time for blossoming flowers and bird song. Forever-Autumn has no winter either, no frost, no snow, no starry clear winter nights and, there is never Christmas. All year around the trees will grow leaves that are already golden or red, apples will appear on the branches - though no flowers will have to blossom first, the pumpkins are always fat and reap and the crops a glistening yellow. None of the farmers ever have to plough or plant, the crops will appear over-night, and if they are not harvested, they will just stay there, nobody knows for how long, nobody have dared to test it.
In a little dip between the fields lay a brick house. It was surrounded by blooming roses, purple and white lilac and some little scarlet begonias, all this foliage, the fuzzed, uncut lawn and the house were confined by a low stone fence. A warm June sun embraced this ripe summer afternoon and covered the landscape like golden drapes. The brick house was what by size I assume you’d call a small villa, or a minuscule mansion, because it was quite a pleasurable rust red size to it. You could tell from outside that most of the wobbly old windows had white lace curtains on the inside, and traditional, clean shutters neatly bolted on to the exteriority. All in all it was a very delicious countryside home, all heartily and delicately luscious.
Another picture from Lisbon!
Today it's the second day in December. There's a little snow outside, I have hot gold tea and a lecture on Java. I dreamt I had both my feet in a stainless steel bowl tucked tightly with woolen socks, then I hopped over to a shop, and in the exhibition window there was a squid in a dress, she was black and white with a big red dress. Coming to think of it the window was more like an aquarium.
My eyes are all dry and tired even though my day has only just started! It is a good day so far, though.
I took this picture in Lisbon last week.
Forgive me for not updating. It's not that I have so many things to do, it is just that I'm spending my time elaborately avoiding to do them. I wanted to make a post about sadness because Scandinavia can be a very depressing place at this time of year. Sure it is Christmas, but it is also extremely dark and cold. It's dark when you get up and dark when you come home. People are saddened by many things, loneliness, darkness, films, books, music - could be whatever. I just wanted to know what makes you sad.
Cream is one of the chemical elements, positioned on the periodic table next to potassium, underneath sauce. And that is a FACT.
I don't know why I'm blogging about this. But I'm trying to write a NaNovel originally, and so I did a handstand to get some blood to my headbrain (seeing otherwise I'm just sitting on my behind, and it doesn't exactly encourage any circulation). And then I went back to the computer, and now I'm writing this. Ehm yeah, you can make whatever you want of that. Maybe I got a concussion.
On the other hand, too much blood might have given me a concussion.
I don't have any plans along the lines of that at all.
But now we have got a taste of winter, people will recall what snow is like every year, and so we have some time to unpack our giant coats, the boots, the hats, the mittens and the spiky tyres, right? I blew my nose in a napkin, but it was full of cinnamon, now my head feels weird.
For some reason I ended up looking at pictures of Mudkips today, and randomly I cam across this creature called Axolotl. I didn't even know there was a creature named Axolotl. But I like it. It is on the brink of extinction though, but I hope it survives. It looks nice, doesn't it? It has a friendly face.
Elin gave me a star shaped egg pan, so Skjalg and I had a star shaped egg for breakfast.
On Friday Hans-Jørgen gave me a bouquet of roses!
I am such a lucky person!
I was at my second Justice concert last wednesday, it was quite good. The audience were certainly prepared recepticals for any sound the French duo were willing to blast out of their speakers. Personally I think the peak of the concert was when they quite brutally mashed "You're No Good for Me" by the Prodigy in to their beats. That was fabulous. Also I wore a sure deathtrap that easily entangled itself into any passing creature, so dancing was much like "avoiding", which is common in Norway, because it is so full of Swedes. Either way, every feminine particle in my body can be proud of me wearing a dress - because I'm not too good at that. And my wonderful, sparkling shoes reduced my feet to a pulpy sludge of blood and flesh.
Saturday we went to see everybody again at Eivind's place, and I had alcohol for the first time in several months*. It is so nice to catch up with everyone, and Elin is back from England and Ulrik back for a bit from the Army and you know - it was really nice. Also there were new people to meet and I had a rather dramatic misunderstanding up on the roof-terrace. All in all I had too much Urge and too much alcohol and then I walked Elin home and I was in bed about 5 in the morning.
Needless to say I had the hangover of centuries (again, so unfair I always get them. I think someone out there is secretly sending their pain to me, so I get double the trouble). But honestly, there is a reason why I'm not a hard drinker (usually!) because I just fall asleep, or if I manage to stay awake (which takes endless amounts of caffeine) I am so fragile the next day I almost have to take a few days off.
Speaking of which I am being such a good girl and working out, the problem is that I work out on Mondays and then my muscles are horribly sore until the following Friday. Seeing I am a lazy bastard and couldn't even consider working out during the weekend - I start off at Monday again. Even though I am paying for working out the entire month, I only get to do it once a week. Hopefully it will change though, and I'll become Superstrongmonsterwoman and I'll kick your sorry ass back to 1991! Which is a mean place to end up - you'll have to wear tights!
The weather is quite mild, I'm really eagerly anticipating December and the snow, even though November is going to be a tough one. Scored well on my Java hand-in, but have another one on Friday which is smaller but a lot harder, and I'm not very keen on spending a lot of time on it because it just doesn't feel rewarding! But I'm working on that, I really want to like it, it is just hard to do so.
This has turned into the longest post ever, and also one of the most pointless posts ever. Make whatever you wish of it, I'm publising it now. Oh, and I think I'm brewing up a cold, I'm sneezing into my tea!
*meaning alcohol in the common, vast quantities that the Scandinavian drinking culture requires.
If you wonder what on earth this entire post is about, it's about tea. But I have caught a nasty case of NaNoWriMo again, so you will find my posts to be unecessary long and winding. Just look at my review of Keane's "Perfect Symmetry" - it is like a huuuge wall of deadly text. Yarp! But anyway, point is - Lipton and Twinings kind of dominate the grocery stores, and they keep inventing flavours that don't exist and put them in very nice packages. Like pyramid shaped teabags and stuff like that, it is pretty crazy. I fall for it though. I buy things for their wrapper all the time.
Lipton's White Tea
I think I have been scammed, it is just ordinary black tea with some white bits in it. It tastes nice however - I'm not complaining.
Lipton's Gold Tea
Now this is definitely a scam, it comes in a really sexy black and gold box that has absolutely nothing to do with tea. But I brought that on myself, because this is just black tea with yellow bits in it, I know - wow. Definitely just a bland blend of tea named Gold, and so I fall for it immediately. But it's good too, so hey! What do you know?
Lipton's Tropical Fruit Tea
Ever had like tropical fruit yoghurt, and then spilled it in your Earl Gray tea? Well this tastes exactly like that. But in a good way, at least I think it is in a good way.
Twining's Green Tea with Lemon
Tastes like lemon, smells like lemon, -then a bit like a rabbit's cage. Delicious though.
Twining's Green Tea with Jasmine
This is very sweet in flavour, and the fragrance is very heavy. Though I'd expect that's what to happen when you put the remnants of wilted flowers in a cup of boiling water. AND DRINK IT! Who invented this, I will never understand. But I am grateful.
Twining's Green Tea with Mint
Hah, this'd be my favourite, it is like you're brushing your teeth and swallowing something hot at the same time. Sounds gross - is excellent! You'd be surprised.
Twining's Earl Gray
What can I say? Nothing to say. Always liked Earl Gray. Lipton's Yellow Label on the other hand - is just not my cup of tea! (oh, see what I did there?)
SörgårdsTe (that's southerns farm tea, from Sweden)
It tastes like passion fruit, but it doesn't have anything to do with any farm in southern Sweden as far as I get it. And I don't think they grow any passionfruit there either. But then I am sceptical to Swedes y'know, I don't trust them, can't help it! I'm Norwegian. So forgive me, I like you, but I don't trust you.
(Heavenly good/Divine, also Swedish, in Norwegian it would be "Himla godt", at least you could say that, but in writing it looks weird). And this is very interesting, because on the bag it says it has a flavour of "Kvitten" (whatever that is), peach and cream. I know! Peaches and cream and "Kvitten" flavoured tea. Far out! Smells heavenly, as described. ... Hmmm - Maybe Kvitten is like a bird? Could be a bird. Sounds a bit like a bird. I think it is a bird. Like Bird, peaches and cream tea. Ooh. Yum.
Twining's Blackcurrant Tea
Wow, surprisingly this tastes like blackcurrant, and there is really nothing more to say about that. When I drink from my tea-bottle on my way to school it makes the entire bus smell like blackcurrant. I can sit and panorama the tired people's nostrils vibrate as the scents unfolds. it is most tasty.
Twining's Apple, Cinnamon & Raisin Tea
This is great! I can't have more than like a bottle a day though, because it tastes just like its description, so it's like drinking a pie. And it is like an illusion of feeling full afterwards. (note: illusion).
(Please listen to Keane's - You Haven't Told Me Anything. It makes me want to dance around and smile like an idiot). Also when I move out I want to have like a really tacky and ugly teapot like that, I'd just totally love that!
And it isn't any wonder that money is as important as it is today, everyone can see that. It is much like food, really - if some of us weren't so greedy, it'd be plenty to go around. But I'm afraid humans don't work like that, and even though everyone wants to contribute - not many follow through.
I don't want to lecture about people being bad and horrible and that we are leaving thousands of our fellow specimen to starve to death every day. Because we know that, something which maybe even makes it worse, I suppose - but my point being that instead of telling us things we are already painfully aware off, I just wanted to encourage you to help.
Today being today - Blog Action Day, I want to spread the word of Change.org in association with Blog Action Day - and you can donate whatever petty amount of money - because it will make a difference to someone out there.
To you and me a small sum of money will mean more or less a pair of socks or a computergame or maybe even lunch. If you are willing to let go of your flippin lunch for the sake of some frightened, malnutritioned skeleton somewhere in the world - that is a beautiful action. I take my hat off for you. If you'd like to learn more about poverty, Foss' written about it in his blog. And so has Elin.
"The Lovers Are Losing" and "You Haven't Told Me Anything" are by far my favourites. They are worth purchasing the entire album for. Especially when the album contains "Better Than This", "Again and Again", and "You Don't See Me". --Erhm, yeah, you will find to your grand surprise that I have just listed the first seven tracks on the album. But like I said in the beginning - they're brilliant, and well produced and original yet still Keane'y! One other important thing is that this album is way more upbeat, playful and almost funky. You can dance to this!
How is everyone, anyway?
I finally figured out the only reason to be alive is to enjoy it. - Rita Mae Brown
“Wow! Norway sounds like a whack to the pants!”
~ Oscar Wilde
You play the ex-circus boy, now Psychonaut named Razputin (Raz). It all takes place at the Psychic Summer Camp for kids, but this is no ordinary summer camp, and it also turns out quite eventful when all the other psychic kids gets their brains taken from them. The plot may sound crazy (and it is!) - because it's up to you to retrieve them. So the game mostly happens inside people's minds, where you have to tag emotional luggage (crying suitcases), figments of their imagination and use your many abilities, like clairvoyance, telekinesis and levitation to solve complex puzzles and destroy freaky enemies. Like the mutated lungfish, the crazy bull El Odio, or the milkman.
I love this game, it is such a delight. Like a rainbow toffee in a bowl of pebbles. By that I mean that it is an intruiging game among all these mass-produced first player shooting, war, football, sing-a-long, or movieplot based games. Thumbs up!
Listen to: Keane - Something In Me Was Dying
Eat: Chocolate chunk muffins
Ser ut som et bombet likhus, ispedd kreperende rester av forgrepne klovner og resultatet av en rekke uforklarlige hendelser som antageligvis innebar en eske med sminke, femten meter teip, en boks kvitteringer, en samling CD'er uten cover, unbegrensede mengder klær, merkverdige glitrende objekter og små hårete vesener med lystige personligheter og appetitt på kalde rester av teposer og blyantspiss. Det hele kanskje med en slags atmosfære av en fanget kunstnerisk sjel som spontant var nødt til å gå i håndgemeng med hele sin portfolio og endte opp revet i fillebiter under en kontorstol, dekket av glitter.
Det er et sørgelig syn. Men det er også sant.
Looks like a bombed morgue, with the crippled rests of violated clowns added, and the result of a series of unexplainable events that were likely to involve a box of makeup, fifteen metres of stickytape, a box of receipts, a collection of coverless CD's, unlimited amounts of clothes, mysterious glittering objects and small, hairy creatures with an appetite for the cold remnants of teabags and pencil sharpenings. The whole of it perhaps with a kind of atmosphere of a trapped artistic soul that spontaneously had to go to physical measures with his/hers entire portfolio, and ended up ripped to shreds under an office chair, covered in glitter.
It is a sad sight. But it is true also.