Soup Soup a Tasty Soup Soup

I just made myself a most outrageous hearty soup. There was a shooting right around the corner last night. I didn't hear anything. But then I was... um, under influence. I've also had some tea, and I'm wearing a scarf. I don't think I should take any chances! This is not a good time to be sick! It's a meaty soup, even though it has no meat in it, but beef stock and beef fond. It's got some coriander, piri-piri, mushy peas, potato and carrots in it. And thyme and rosemary and some olive oil. Mmm!

Sometimes soup is exactly what you need! I should've had some bread with it. But there are extents to which not even a desperate person like me, would go. Seriously.

I did put some cheddar cheese in it. THAT hit the spot.

Alright, I will stop ranting about food, my apologies!

It's just that when the soul and flesh is in a weak spot, food is sometimes the only comfort.


I'm alone!

I'm home alone this weekend, and so far I've only really been alone for like two hours, because I spent almost all day walking around Oslo and had ice cream with my friend!

So I wasn't given much opportunity to miss Helge, but bizarrely, I suddenly did! It is weird, because I suddenly missed him a lot more intensely, and I realized that it was because of the time of day. The exact time he comes home from work. Haha! That's really weird! Like my brain was suddenly expecting to see him!


I will on Sunday though!

Here are some pictures from the summer!

Pizza! Before the cheese!

I washed the windows!

We made cupcakes! I forgot to take a picture with frosting on them. And they weren't that amazing, so for most part they have been chucked away in the fridge, so I threw them out this morning. What a waste :<


Slightly 80's Fantasy Art

Here is my slightly fruity photoshop painting. I went a little whack with the colours (I mean, why not? All fantasy priests seem to favour musty colours, which, to me seems highly unlikely anyway). Soo. I wanted to show Sigrid most of all, seeing as she gave me "Fantasy Art Essentials" Magazine! It is a lot of fun.

So yes, now, I want you to tell me all the things that went wrong. (yes, the leg is too long, oh noes, her hair is not whispy enough, boobaablobla!) Bring it on!

(The drawings are huuuge, so click if you, for some reason, like to bask in the "details")

Mm, yes! She is casting some sort of spell! It would take a lot of magic to keep that hair colour!


I just finished reading "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" by Junot Diaz, and it was beautiful and horrible and mysterious and grounded all at once. I loved it. A truly good book.

It's been a gloomy, rainy day today. Mostly read my book, and the newspapers and slept and had tea and watched Helge play games. We were out last night, at The Villa (whohoo!), was cool place. A little trendy, shit expensive of course, but what would you expect? Really?

Feeling a slight bit under the weather and haven't even brushed my hair, but there you go. It is what Sundays are for*.

We are going over to my brother's tonight, which is nice!

*They are not, contrary to what the church believes, for making a hella noise and being mean to other people. Seriously. Stop bashing my brains in.


Hey you guys, don't forget to read my other blog! It is in Norwegian, but I can't see why that should be a problem! Join me over at http://www.lakrisbloggen.blogspot.com

It is my blog on all things liquorice! (which I just can't seem to spell right, though. Another reason why to blog in Norwegian!) That's what the name means, Lakris is liquorice in Norwegian!

Have a good one!



Good before-noon! (We can say that in Norway, it is different from morning)

Up by the church, last week. Oslo can be bliss in the summer
I dreamt I was out travelling and missed my flight - WITHOUT TRAVEL INSURANCE last night.

That must've been one of the most mature dreams I ever had, well, not considering the bit where Tink and I use martial arts to battle free of bad guys to continue our road trip through Istanbul in this tiny, shabby little white car. I mean, there is something quite adolescent about that.

Today I am making pasta with mussels, mm! And I am cleaning the windows and cleaning the bedroom too, because the closet is falling apart again... wait!

A woman is crying outside! Hmm, it's two junkies moving about, he's carrying a picture or something. They talk like they are in a Norwegian film, like really heavy East-Oslo accent in a sympathetic tone of voice, like. "Det er lov å gjørra det noen ganger", "Slutt å vær sjallu på meg a" (these are actual quotes from the pavement junkie drama outside). Seems like she just overreacted or something. They are walking away now with all their kit and that huge frame. Wonder what it was about. There are a lot of people like that in Oslo. We have the heaviest heroin crowd in Europe.

Where was I? Oh yes... Cleaning :(

Maybe I should do the dishes too. SOB WAIL. And clean the bookshelf. I better get started right away... after breakfast! And then... If I keep procrastinating, I will probably finish sometime tomorrow morning. Haha. Oh yes. Wish me luck! Have a wonderful day!

Never quite old enough

The clubscene in Oslo is not exactly what I would call universally vibrant, it can be really stale, and serves such a wide diversity our sparse population can't abide to fill the clubs up. So what happens is that you have to be at those five or six places where things "are going down", or you will be in one of the places that have echoes in them.

Nooo, - I exaggerate. But because all clubs are terrified of being the "deserted" club, they try to be as exclusive or eccentric they possibly can, so they can attract enough people. They are also so scared of losing their alcohol licence, they make sure they get a clientelle that can stay up past bedtime, but also has legal rights to buy alcohol. This means outrageous age limits just to get in, Horgans, I remember, had 26!

 I will tell you a story, anyway, concerning the topic. It's not really that enthralling, but now that you're here... I might as well share it.

Tink (as you may know, one of my few friends of the female persuasion) and I, have worked our entire youth to crack the code which is Oslo nightlife. Even at a time when we both were blonde, and slender (Tink, still is, it is only I that seem to inflate at a frightening rate) we had a tough time getting in anywhere, and though we have never climbed in any windows, we were at one point, quite desperate.

I flaunted my sister's fake ID from when I was 16 (pretending I was 20), and that worked for most part, we got in at a lot of places and had... mostly good times, but, obviously, we also had our share of strange ones. Like when that bald guy approached us and really looked us up and down and said "Whoah! You girls deserve a diploma!" and we asked him (quite naturally, I mean, he must've seen that coming) -"What for?" And he, caught completely off-guard, said -"Um. I... Have to think about that". And this terrible awkwardness ensued and I wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him, and yell something. "Jesus! Man! You could have said ANYTHING! You could have just said 'diplomas for drinking the right friggin' beer' it wouldn't matter! Oh my God! Whyyy?! Why are you sooo dumb?!" In retrospect that is probably the way I feel about it now, while as my younger self probably just wanted to die, quickly and make the AWKWARD go away. Yes, those were the days...

Truly. But we also made it in to Café Mono, which I always regarded as some kind of perfect indie hangout, where they played Arctic Monkeys sometimes and the crowd wasn't so young. And I mean, we were there quite a lot, it was our go-to place for a long time. But fake-ID wasn't all a dance on roses, we had a couple of sweaty situations - including one when the bouncer of some other place said he would call the police on me! - made me hesitant to use it. It is, after all, illegal to use.

2008! We were like 19. I look more like I'm 12 though.
So we got cautious, and we stayed away from places where we had to use fake-ID for a while, until we could use our REAL ones. This meant going to lots of concerts and going to clubs where people where our age. We had a lot of fun, but it wasn't quite the same. So when we at last turned twenty, we thought we could stride right in to any shop and own it. Er. But we were so mistaken, it is... Um, it is almost embarrasing. We were turned down at Mono like a thousand times, because, for some reason, the place we had grown up in (well, not exactly, but we were there a couple of times even if it was lame, because we were loyal, right! We were so loyal!) wouldn't accept us when we were trying to enter under our real names! Because, as the huuge anal doorman so vigilantly kept reminding us, we had to be 22 to get in at Mono.

My 22nd birthday only just passed, I feel matured to the point that I just want to go in there just to har-umphh and snort and stride right back out again. Bah!

I had got the strange idea of hanging out at The Villa this season though, because it's Oslo's electronica scene, and it was outrageous that I hadn't even been there. But yeah, so. I was very ready, and I thought I'd better Google it, to see where it was, because, like I said, I never been there. Well. Guess what?


You have to be 23 to get in.

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