Lots of things that dangle are on the brim of extinction, like Tree Sloths and Dangling Dangle Danglers. I don't know if you've ever heard of Dangling Dangle Danglers before, but they are oscillating, shiny little creatures that live in waterpipes.
The Dangling Dangle Danglers, also known as Haereo Pensilis Propexus (latin for hang on to, hanging, hanging down), are usually very quiet lifeforms and are not considered vermins or pests. The use of Haereo Pensilis Propexus in eco-systems is purely for decoration, as their shiny, round and red bodies illuminate and glow when they are sleeping.
When Dangling Dangle Danglers are awoken to quickly, they will let out loud schreeching and whining sounds. You can often hear this when taking a shower, watering your garden with a hose or using the water tap.
The Haereo Pensilis Propexus has no specific use, they live off minerals found in rust and tap water, being relaxed creatures. However, the Dangling Dangle Danglers are far from lazy, being quite acrobatic where they are hanging from the ceiling of waterpipes. The Dangling Dangle Danglers are, as seahorses, monogamous, they can spend months trying to get the attention of the opposite sex and if it turns out right, they spend their lives together. They lay about 200-500 eggs at a time, in small sacks, these egg-sacks have a strong resemblance with porridge, but are not considered a special culinary treat.
As the Haereo Pensilis Propexus are now about to be completely extinct, there are several things you can do to help these little creatures. Here's a two things:
- Always flush when using a toilet facility
- Never pour liqour or alcoholic beverages down drains
And if you want to be extra helpful:
- add a spoon of strawberry jam to the water in your tub before pulling the prop out.
Thank you!
2
The Great Fårikål Day 2006
Every year Norwegians supposedly celebrate the "Fårikål" Day, this we have (supposedly) done for TEN years now.
Fårikål is a very simple meal to create, the name being the recipe in itself. "Fårikål" means "Sheepincabbage" and it can hardly get more obvious than that.
There are of course more ingredients, but nobody names a course "Sheepcabbagepeppersaltwaterandalittlebitoflourboilsfor-
severalhoursandisbestservedwithpotatoes" Because that is a very silly thing to do, long names are harder to remember than short names.
So today there will be served from 1500-1600 kilos of "Fårikål" in front of the City Hall for everyone that wants to have some.Personally I have the annual pleasure of getting served "Fårikål" twice as often as everyone else, as my divorced parents find it best to make it at different times, preferably when I will be around.
Not that I mind.
No no.
Meanwhile, somewhere deep deep in the jungle
By Lamin Chorr Nilsen. (c)
Currently at display at the annual Autumn Exhibition in Oslo, The Høstutstilling.
I've been there twice, there were a few installations and paintings, films and even a few sculptures. I liked some of it, while I think the majority of the art has basically been too busy trying to provoke than rather inspire or communicate. Personally I don't find it important for art to reflect society or to get you thinking, to toss shit at people or to get me annoyed or upset. If art is able to inspire me, to get my mind going a little. I quite enjoy to stand still and just look, you know, just stare (no, I wasn't referring to the above painting, mind you. You're like a living sexual innuendo, aren't you?) but really, just loose myself in something and suck it all in. (no!)
Really I don't give a damn camels nostril about the motive behind it or the technique developed in the process, I don't really mind the thought behind it, the hate or whatever it is trying to display or publicly shame. It doesn't matter!
If the work in itself can be enjoyed in some way, that it can have the right shape and form, the right position and ....
okay, I've had enough. If you can't stop bringing up that painting I have to remove it, you know that? Alright?
Well I was just about finished anyway.
Point is, you can find a deeper meaning to anything around you if you just WANT to, but that doesn't mean that you HAVE to do it. Everything doesn't have to have an answer or a meaning to it. If I draw a person, I don't necessarily know who that person is, but that doesn't matter either. We are able to be captivated by the art in itself, not all these mind-flaring, far-fetched, so-called deep sense in it, those are just poor excuses for why the art is unoriginal and (in some cases) just morbid, perverted ideas come alive.
by
Tora
Hand me the tissues
My mother's father; my grandfather, is just like my mother, likewise is my sister also like my mother, which is just like me.
We're extremely similar in one way, you see, we all cry very easily.
No, don't laugh, I'm serious! It's not the least bit amusing! It's absolutely hopeless! Imagine Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring has lasted for about five minutes and hobbit-children are running across the screen, my mother is clenching to the seat, crying endlessly. Like as the film La vita è bella (Life is beautiful) leaves my sisters mascara splattered around everywhere from the sofa to behind the television set by the time the intro has started. Picture Lilo & Stitch playing on a plane to Australia and I am crying so much the flight attendant stops to ask me (for the third time) if I'm okay. OF COURSE I'M NOT OKAY! THE GIRL AND THE BLUE SPACE-EXPERIMENT ARE FRIENDS, CAN'T YOU SEE IT'S UPSETTING?!
If it was only a matter of self-control it would change everything. But, unfortunately, we are as able to control this as we are of doing a kinky llama imitation. And the problem is, if you whacked us across the face with a sledge, I bet we wouldn't cry a bit. But do play "Mio bambino Caro" done by Renée Fleming and we'll be on our knees begging for mercy before you can say "drowning-accident". Which is excactly what it will be too, if you don't turn that blasted sad music off.
Bambi makes me weep, sniff, bawl, snivel, mawl, whimper and sob. Please hand me some tissues.
We're extremely similar in one way, you see, we all cry very easily.
No, don't laugh, I'm serious! It's not the least bit amusing! It's absolutely hopeless! Imagine Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring has lasted for about five minutes and hobbit-children are running across the screen, my mother is clenching to the seat, crying endlessly. Like as the film La vita è bella (Life is beautiful) leaves my sisters mascara splattered around everywhere from the sofa to behind the television set by the time the intro has started. Picture Lilo & Stitch playing on a plane to Australia and I am crying so much the flight attendant stops to ask me (for the third time) if I'm okay. OF COURSE I'M NOT OKAY! THE GIRL AND THE BLUE SPACE-EXPERIMENT ARE FRIENDS, CAN'T YOU SEE IT'S UPSETTING?!
If it was only a matter of self-control it would change everything. But, unfortunately, we are as able to control this as we are of doing a kinky llama imitation. And the problem is, if you whacked us across the face with a sledge, I bet we wouldn't cry a bit. But do play "Mio bambino Caro" done by Renée Fleming and we'll be on our knees begging for mercy before you can say "drowning-accident". Which is excactly what it will be too, if you don't turn that blasted sad music off.
Bambi makes me weep, sniff, bawl, snivel, mawl, whimper and sob. Please hand me some tissues.
by
Tora
My dear you
I don't know why it feels as if my stomach has multiplied and is now stacking itself in cascades up through my nose, but I think it has something to do with Robbie Williams.
I know life hasn't been easy on him, that his breath smells like a thousand fags, when he's drunk he dances like his dad, and that he's started, to dress a bit like him. I know that every morning when he wakes up, he looks like kiss but without the make-up, and that's a good start to take it to the bridge.
And I know and I know, that his life's a mess, and he's trying to grow, but this is SHIT.
Robbie, honey, you are trying to hard. You are trying so hard it sounds like they just had you castrated.
You sound like George flipping Michael, all I want to do now, is to cry. Alright. This is hopeless.
Out, get out, get out NOW.
Get the fuck out Robbie. Get out and stay out.
I know life hasn't been easy on him, that his breath smells like a thousand fags, when he's drunk he dances like his dad, and that he's started, to dress a bit like him. I know that every morning when he wakes up, he looks like kiss but without the make-up, and that's a good start to take it to the bridge.
And I know and I know, that his life's a mess, and he's trying to grow, but this is SHIT.
Robbie, honey, you are trying to hard. You are trying so hard it sounds like they just had you castrated.
You sound like George flipping Michael, all I want to do now, is to cry. Alright. This is hopeless.
Out, get out, get out NOW.
Get the fuck out Robbie. Get out and stay out.
by
Tora
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