As everyone are well aware of -- the colour of epic is purple. I realized that I have a lot of epic things, I do.

Epic glitter and epic make-up remover.
An epic box.
An epic drink-stirring palm tree.
An epic buddha (that glows in the dark!) and an epic Mr. Krabs (his pants are epic at least).
An epic iPod!
And an epic toe! It might be broken, but how can you tell really?
It doesn't look correctly purple in this picture however.

God jul!

Merriest of Christmases!

David Hasselhoff - Rhinestone Cowboy

You asked for it.
I know that nobody likes my music posts, but I can't consider everyone else all the time!
GO listen! 

Oh, and this youtube comment was kind of funny:

Puffed Rice

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.

Puffed rice is though very convenient when you wake up and you really want 3000 of something. Don't get me wrong here, I really, truly like puffed rice, I really do. The thing with puffed rice is though that it tastes next to nothing, but if it does taste something, it tastes I imagine what a small rodent farts in your mouth after having an alternative health enema tastes like. Especially those chocolates with puffed rice in them, though I suppose if that floats your boat I can only suggest you get another bag of those, or see someone about it. Which is fine by me, honestly. 

Also another thing is that puffed rice is just steamed rice grains that have been under a lot of pressure, someone could say that it's sort of like lumps of coal becoming diamonds. Well, it sort of isnt. It sort of just becomes slightly bigger grains of rice that sort of weighs almost nothing and that sort of doesn't taste anything and sort of lacks a purpose. It is like dropping your dunking biscuit in your hot beverage and forget about it! Because by the time you come back to get it, right - it's twice the size but it's disgusting, it is also terribly hard to get rid of. It is not as if somebody comes over with an empty cup, knocks and goes "Sorry, I ehm-- could I borrow a cup of mushy biscuit? No? You don't have any either, eh? Hmm. Well could I have some puffed rice?" That never happens, they never really ask for that. They ask tricky questions like "Where were you last wednesday? Do you know this man? Is this your Calamari?"

And what am I supposed to say to that? "Hey dude, chill man, come in and have some puffed rice!" I can't say that-- seriously!

It's a TRAP

I was just thinking because today is a rainy day and that’s really depressing because there used to be snow and now all there is left is kind of a cold, lumpy slush that’s salty and slippery with blackened corners of pollution spread around over the rotten leaves. And I’m thinking like – what’s this supposed to mean, right? I mean, I thought I lived in Norway for a reason, isn’t there supposed to be snow? I mean what is going on? There has to be some kind of guarantee. Like when I was born it came with my birth certificate like “You know hi and thanks for coming out, this is Norway all very nice, hope you were born with skis on because that’s how we shake it here. On your arrival we’ll guarantee you a lifetime of white Christmases, expensive public transport, no drinking liquor ‘til you’re at least 20 and when the first snow falls everybody will panic as if it hasn’t been snowing here for the last ten gazillion years. Yours truly, the Norwegian government”. I rummaged through all my drawers and pulled out everything I could find but it was all just drawings of happy homes and snowmen and other things I remember jotting down carelessly with a bit of oil paint on canvas as a mere infant and I thought – man. Dude, they have removed the evidence!
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.

Feature Post: Audun: Christmas

Christmas is right around the corner, , and just like anything that is right around that all too well-known corner, chances are you'll walk straight into it. Because of this, I have been asked to provide some in-depth information about this beloved time of the year.

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

Modern name

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.

Merry 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.


Feature post: Torstein: Go go Tora Rangers!

Bonjour! Since you all appreciated the last post, I thought I might make another one!

About Tora!

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.

Sincerely, Torstein.

I thought this was quite interesting

Weird, but interesting. "Within the last 40-50 years women went from loose underwear around the thighs to tight underwear going across the middle of the buttock. Underwear that has tight elastic across the buttock limits blood flow, encouraging cellulite to form. Wearing thongs, boyshorts, or sleeping naked can reduce the impact underwear plays on cellulite's development.

Cellulite describes a condition that occurs in men and women (although much more common in women)".

 Sometimes I get very afraid of what the internet is doing to me.

Feature post: Torstein: Fruitcake

'ola! To make an insanely long story short; I'm Tora's little brother. Torstein. Now, like most people do, you will most likely go "OMG wtf u r named Torstein?" and I will go "Well, if you think about it, it is the coolest name ever!" I mean, it is a VERY rare name. Not in Snoreway though, I'm only waiting for all of the old people named Torstein to die :P
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 hope that sums up the lot about brits. I will most likely write more posts in the future, so till then: HOLD ON 'YER TROUSERS! "cough"


Gingerbread Rocket!

5  - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1 -- LIFT OFF!

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.

Post #770!

Yeah so it's been a bit of a bother to figure out what this years gingerbread creation was to be. I've made a truck, a lighthouse, a watermill and a vikingship previous years, so this year I was actually set on making a Swiss chalet. But then I figured that it would probably be quite boring, so I wanted to make a train.
But it's going to be a rocket. A spacerocket, a really plump one. Sooo-- I actually put it together last night, but I haven't decorated it yet. We'll see. 

In other news I'm listening to the new The Killers album "Day & Age". Err.. It's definitely different, that's for sure. They have found a new sound indeed. But if it works for sure I'll have to evaluate for a bit longer... Same goes for the new Razorlight album "Slipway Fires" which I think is just plain dull and also quite boring, but maybe it grows on me. Obviously I'm listening to Travis' "Ode to J. Smith" as well (which is their newest) but I have no clear opinion on that yet either. But new music is freshy-fresh, so maybe it'll be cool in the end. Who knows?!

Anyway, how are you?


The elementary particles of Christmas

Most people don't understand Christmas decorations. For some reason people have got this crazy idea that these are supposed to have some kind of resemblance with style or taste. Where did that crazy idea come from? That doesn't even make any sense! At all! Christmas is supposed to look like a mumbay taxi threw up Marie Antoinettes wardrobe into a baroque Christmas tree. Which would look something like this:


Time time time!

Gosh! It appears it is the eighth of December already. Where did the time go? It vanished! POP! Gone! Incredible that is, time, it always appears to be rushing by when we need it, and then when we're aware of it being there it's slow and gooey. What a spot of bother we twirled ourselves into when inventing time - or discovering time, I suppose (that would be more accurate). I could write something witty here, or something that could put a smile on your face for the rest of the day. Afraid I can't really think of anything to write - except that I saw Hairspray today, and it almost gave me a facelift because I almost threw up and so my face was upside down most of the time.

I still think Cristopher Walken is cool though, it is compulsive, I suppose.


Today it's snowing!

Omg snow!! It's so pretty and christmassy and you know, all that.

Looking for people with time

I've always loved to tell stories, and despite the fact that I have never really finished any of my started "works", I'm constantly thinking of stories or characters or ideas for twists and turns. This gets terrible bothersome after a while, so I have to sit down and jot the idea(s) down on paper in the form of a story. The problem is that I wear my eyes out on these things. I read, re-read, I edit, re-edit, I change something, remove lots, write a character out, add a new one, invent something, add a chapter or ten and so on and so on, but then I feel alienated from my own plot, right? I can no longer think of what's reasonable to happen next. And even if I DO create a disposition of the plot, everything I write just becomes unnatural. So I was wondering if I could call out for some assistance here, if only you would bother to read a page or maybe 26 or how many as you'd like and give me some feedback on it - I'd be in debt to you. Seriously. Because I get stuck and it's annoying because I really want to finish my stories!

Here are the beginnings of the four ones I am having particular trouble with, see if you can find one that is appealing in one way or the other and let me know, and I'll let you read the full story. I wont publish it here because it would be a dangerously long wall of text.

Pretty please?

"P Lot" - 7 pages
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.

"AGXH - 3" - 36 pages
”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.

"Forever Autumn" - 44 pages
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.

"Maid in Buttermilk" - 4 pages
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.

Tuesday and tea

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.
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