Make-up

I don't know why we spend so much of our lives trying to improve the way we look. It is probably the biggest and most common obsession of all humans (perhaps except from among Lapps and Eskimos, generally - the people in the snow have given up).

I don't know, I think I spend about twenty minutes - half an hour a day (at least) trying to fudge on my mask of sanity before leaving the house, not to mention trying to shape my birdly head-nest into something that would at least look like hair. But then I do wear a lot of make-up, more than anyone I know who's not a goth, anyway. And so I guess this time-consuming process is more dominating in my world than in others.

Not only do I spend (probably at an average) three and a half hours a week just trying to look sane, but I am always left at a loss on the "nightwear" rule. Because the basic rule when you go out bar-hopping, clubbing or to a party somewhere - is that you do this wearing about 30% more make-up than you do in the daytime. This means I have to spend about an hour wedging my face on with an ironing board, two buckets of cement, a sledgehammer and a fondue fork (whilst curling my head-nest with a bunch of heavy-duty bolsters*). -- And I regularly come out looking as a clown anyway, absolutely nada like Megan Fox. Nada.

So, if you like me, sometimes feel like beauty-treatment and cosmetics is taking over your life (Audun); save time on grooming by skipping showers. You can simply simulate that you're showering while on the bus to school. Apparently this method is

A. Entertaining

B. Fun to do

C. Relatively dry (unless someone spit on you)

D. Cheap - saves the hot water, and the shampoo!

So, as I can't seem to rid myself of the habit on wearing face-paint before entering every day warfare, for now I am simply going to infuse my invigoriting cassoulet of smells with a splurt of sweat and a knob of pollution that's been allowed to yeast in my pores for a little while longer!

Now that's pretty disgusting! Smudge some pus on the bus!

*For you curious types - yes, apparently the make-up ritual is quizzically similar to construction work

The White Hand of Toraman

I fell asleep on my hand, it appears - so it's left a mark on my belly. It looks really weird, actually. And it's happened before too, but then it was on my leg. I have no idea why I still halfway to Legoland awoke and took this picture. But I found just the whole concept of dragging myself out of bed to document this absurdness so bizarre that I decided to share the bizarreness with you.

Edit: Because of  a complaint from my sister, the above image has been cropped.

Bad Dream

I wake up,
it's a bad dream, no-one on my side
i was fighting,
but I just feel too tired to be fighting,
guess I'm not the fighting kind.
Wouldn't mind it
if you were by my side,
but you're long gone,
yeah you're long gone now.

- Keane "A Bad Dream" ("Under The Iron Sea" 2006)

Well it wasn't so much of a bad dream, well - it was utterly disturbing and also a bit frightening, but I don't think that 'bad' is appropriate, disgusting maybe. Just so you're warned, this is a dream I've dreamt and it is pretty icky and very sick*, so if you choose not to read on, then that's fine!


We are being chased by ninjas, some are dressed in tight black, and some in red - after falling through the floor we land in a pool with a massive splash and sink slowly to the bottom. Ninjas everywhere. We have drawn our swords, but the thick, devouring liquid is slowing us and it seems as an eternity before our feet touch the bottom of a very pleasant white-tiled pool.

The water disappear.

From above and from all directions - ninjas are plunging at us, and I strike at random, blood is pouring from my wounds as I gush at the enemies, back to back with you. I don't know who you are, but I know you, and you are with me - and I am so glad I am not alone.

At a certain point the amount of ninjas has decreased, we are protecting a little boy child as we run along the bottom of the empty, narrow and deep pool - no exits. It is like a porcelain maze.

A man with a face comes out from behind a corner as we stop for a second to catch our breath, and by saying he has a face I mean that he is not wearing a red or a black ninjamask - but I don't know him. Actually he looks like that Goldeneye badguy, kind of poorly animated, just like in the N64 game, we instantly know that he's the evil genius behind it all. His bodyguards just fall over without much heavy work, and then it's the boss' turn.
I don't know why, but it is me who must kill him, and I am standing there with a sword held tight in both hands trying to think of how it is most easy to kill a person. His hands are tied in the back, and he's kneeling down on the tiles, it is more like an execution, and still I can't think of a good way to let him go. For some reason I am filled with sympathy, I just want him to die quick and painless, and I'm thinking and thinking of how to make him do so.

Absurdedly I end up cutting my sword into his face, from the roots of his hair and down to his chin. But he doesn't want to die. there is very little blood, but I can see everything inside his skull, it splits open with ease - even though I am doing it slowly, and with a not particularly sharp sword. He doesn't die, he doesn't scream. He is kneeling, eyes popping out of his face in pain - and I just have to continue, because the more I linger the slower he will die and I don't want him to die slowly. I slice his face into thin slivers, and suddenly there's all this blood again, gushing from his mortal wounds, but still it takes time, and veins and organs are pulsating inside the slices.

But then, he dies. And there is blood and confusion and the person I'm with is yelling at me - we need to get out! We need to hide the body! You must hide the body! Quickly!
We have killed loads of people, but this one, the most brutal, the most horrible and traumatizing - he must be hidden. No-one must find out that we (I) have killed the poorly animated Goldeneye Bad guy. I don't panic, I never panic, I wrap him up - and I walk down the street. People are giving me stares, but I pretend not to notice. The body, still warm, is flung over my shoulder, but I have no trouble walking.

In fact, I have difficulty walking heavy enough - I am floating - and the citylights in the distance are swelling like balloons in pastel colours - if you have ever watched city-lights with tears in your eyes, or without glasses, then you know what I mean. And I float up to the sky, trying to walk on the ground, but I can't.

The End!
I woke up and thought my alarm was 'ringing the cows in' or 'calling the peasants for dinner' - or really, whatever sick excuse I was making up for it not to concern me and my sleep.


*I'm so crazy I'll never need drugs to make me cool. Lucky, lucky me!

New hair colour!

Before:

Well I don't know if this photo is "ideal", least not to show off any beauty in particular, it was taken for a special occasion, but it will have to do! And you get the general idea.... Right?

After:

And this turned out a bit fuzzy, we are not picky though - it doesn't matter.

Anyway! Whooo! New hair... Doop doop.
Show some enthusiasm!

Did you know...?
- This hair colour isn't permanent, and my mum offered me money for not colouring it with permanent colour after I coloured it?
- My stepdad thought it looked nice?

Well you know now!

Ninja!