Protect thy child

"Excuse me?" he said, because as nobody else had reacted, he felt obliged to.
-"Yes?" she said, and did a little jump to move the baby to a more comfortable position on the side of her waist.
"May I ask why your child is wrapped in plastic-bubbles and tinfoil?" He pointed at the baby, though she probably did know where it was already, he felt it made the question seem more natural if he pointed.
-"It is in case I drop him of course, so that he wont break".
He took a discreet step backwards.
"Ah, of course. I see, er, I was just... Curious".

And he felt helpless, because he had no idea what to retort. Quite honestly he didn't see why it couldn't make sense either.

The PLU -game

At work, which can be very quiet during summer, there's a game one can play which is called "The PLU game". PLU is the code for each piece of glassware or other items we might have in stock, also known as ASW.

The game is quite simple, you randomly tap six numbers into the cashier to register an item, and the one who gets the item that is worth the most, wins!

Sometimes one can become a little too competitive and start looking up the most expensive items on the computer at the back.
Anyway, yesterday it was so quiet because of the good weather, so Heidi and I took turns in walking around in the other shops.

While Heidi was ojn one of her trips, I was driven to insanity by boredom, and ended up playing the PLU game. And don't we sell a bucketload of odd things?
Prices are in Norwegian Kroners.

212121 - Stiftviskelær "Winter" - 19,-
174423 - Pins USA/Norway - 29,-
181818 - White wine - 49,-
264512 - Bell with Moose in sunset - 59,-
161616 - No Text - 75,-
264589 - Mirror zink - 119,-
177444 - First Step 17017BB - 1799,-
191919 - Postbox B541 STEEL - 2399,-
207447 - Yellow Plate 550mm - 12 000,-

I mean, wth?

Cake the flavour, doctor

Azzurro

You might already be familiar with my Italian friend named Dario, Dario Esposito. Mr. Dario is my age and he takes me out on his scooter to show me the wonders of Italian nightlife. Now if you are wondering why the hell this italian diegos would take a git like me out on his pearly blue-metallic bike - the answer is quite simple; the beach-blonde hair.

Now, Tora is interested in seeing the scenery, the people, the streets, the houses, the shops and restaurants that are all buzzing with excitement at the nightly hours. Tora wants to see Italy from the Italian point of view; from the back of a girly moped with a big helmet falling down over her eyes, arms clinging around a person with a name ending with an 'o'*.

Now, Dario, kind of on the other side of the scale, wants to go to dark places with a view to make out. Like cliffs looking over the peninsula fitted with a convenient bench, a sandy beach, or what else on his bloody endless list of "good places for making out".

You know what I should do? I should make a map, I should write a book, no? "Tora e Dario's Guide to Romantic Beaches of the Amalfi Coast Perfect for Snuggling and Making out". I might have to work a little on the title.

So it happens that Mr. D took me out to a pier, on the outer side of the concrete docks massive rocks had been heaved to shield the beach from the waves. Obviously this pier already had some snuggling couples at the very end, looking over at Naples, watching fireworks and doing mindblowing excursions to the locking mechanism of bras. I am sure the brain activity at that pier was just as powerful as during a professional chess-tournament.

Again Tora felt the need to state further that she really wanted to see the world, and not hug noses. As usual this wasn't very popular in particular, and all Tora got as a response was "perché??" ("why??"). Well, bright-lights, that ain't easy to explain with such a limited vocabulary, besides I don't think it would have been any use to turn to verbal abuse. My second attempt of escaping was to step down from my high, sparkly and new golden shoes - and run for it.

Well technically I had no chance of walking (or running) all the way home, and I had no intention of hurting his feelings, I had made him take me were I wanted before, it just took a good while to make him do as I said. So, left with few other options than intense physical-contact, I started to jump from one giant rock to the next. It was a really nice place, the waves and the view was all really romantic -he knew what he was doing alright.

In Italy a girl don't simply jump from rock to rock, they just don't do that, all they do is to sit on their bums, complain, make-out, and argue, a lot. That's it. So when Dario to his surprise started to jump after me in a real girly way, trying hard to catch up - he asked me if I was a "sporty -girl".
Well, honeycakes... Not the least bit.
I kept keeping a good two- to three rocks distance, and asking him really far-out questions to divert him. To some extent it worked, but it didn't last long before we were approaching the face-eating, big-brains at the end. When he caught up he took my hand, and we jumped a bit back again. To my despair he sat down, and made me do the same.

Obviously I continued to ask stupid questions, like "what is 'glass' in Italian?" ("vetro") and so on. Though at some point he made some stupid compliment about my light hair, and I said that he has such beautiful brown eyes, because he really does. But he looked at me, baffled, and said stiffly "No, my eyes are black, nero", and I laughed and said (he really doesn't have black eyes, seriously) "Yours are black, and mine are blue". This time he looked into my eyes in a very cheesy fashion and corrected me confidently "No, they are... Azzurro".

I couldn't do nothing but laugh! They are not the least bit azure, they are slightly more gray really. But romance it appears, do not really take interest in such insignificant details, and so I couldn't say anything, he was so serious.

It didn't take many more dumb questions and uninterested glances at him before he placed me back on his moped with the big helmet on my head and drove me around for a bit. At some point his "mamma" called and told him to come home. He drove me to my door, and I stepped off the bike, handing him the helmet, but when reaching for my phone - a Norwegian coin fell out of my purse. Dario looked incredibly fascinated, so I gave it to him and told him how much it was worth in Euro's, (about 20 cent) and he laughed at its worthlessness, but took hold of it as if it was a wonderful treasure.

With his "black" eyes he looked through the hole in the middle of the coin, and he smiled at me. Before I could do anything he had taken off his necklace and put the coin on it, then to put it back around his neck. He was still wearing it when I left Italy a week later. Though before leaving, in fact he refused to leave, he insisted to have me kiss him goodnight. With big puppy eyes he told me sadly that if I would not kiss him a last time he would not sleep tonight, and he looked at me as if he was asking me to buy him an icecream. I told him this was absolutely ridiculous and that of course he would sleep, but as I had said this he rubbed his big eyes with his fists as if crying, and there was no way I could say no. So I kissed him goodnight, and I laughed, because he was pathetic yet irresistably cute, what kind of thing is that to do, anyway? Begging to get kissed? Pretty sad if you ask me, azure or not, pretty damn sad!

*Like for example, Mario, Dario, Wario, Enzo, Raphaelo, Massimo, Donatello, Stephano, or Leonardo, you know.

The things you are

The norwegian language use comparisons to determine a persons behaviour or certain abilities a person has. Most languages do this, it is just that we compare you with things that do not even remotely make sense, take these for example:

Treig - ost
Slow - cheese :A person which is slow or lagging behind.

Moro - klump
Funny - lump :A person with a sense of humour.

Mase - kråke
Nagging - crow :A person that just doesn't shut up.

Papp - skalle
Cardboard - head :A person not particularily bright.

Rote - kopp
Messy - cup :A person not tidying up after him/herself

Surre - hue
Buzzing - head :An oblivious person, a bit dim.

Fille - frans
Raggy - frans :A person not dressed very nice (Frans is a name).

Makes me giggle!

TaKE A LooK AT my GirlFrieND

Of course I know that Gym Class Heroes have made a cover version of Supertramp's Take a Look at my Girlfriend called Cupid's Chokehold.

I know the little cupids are adorable and have the most funky dance in their video - but all the hip-hop is pissing me off as much as that disgusting Red Hot Chilli Pepper song Hump da Bump. (Grrrrrrr... that song does annoy me just thinking about it).