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.