Weekday/Monki Opening Party

(Oslo Nights)

After a hard day of studying for my exams yesterday, I went for a walk and met up with Karoline to nip in to the Store Opening event for Weekday/Monki. Sadly Karoline hadn't registered right or something ridiculous like that and I had to go in alone. I felt the air thick with Agyness-2007-haircuts, moldy vintage and ce-blog-lebrities. After seven girls wearing my brown Topshop shoes and about ten minutes in the store Hannah on stopover from Iceland to Bergen grabbed my arm and said "hey." I was stunned and pleased at the outcome. We had copius amounts of the free beer and wine. Made fun of the dancers . I mingled and met lots of interesting people and got the biggest ego-boosts from being taken pictures of by bloggers.

Last but not least, I met Alexander. The only one fashion conscious enough to comment on my trendy socks-in-sandals look for the night! He's my new hero!

Hare Krishna

Sunny outrage!

First of all, why in the world can anyone hunker down their buttocks on uncomfortable chairs in stuffy asbestos-covered shitholes like Sophus Bugges on a day like this? Is it the incessant clickety-clack of the girl in high heels going outside ta talk on the phone every twenty minutes or perhaps the feel of other people stress-levels reaching that of cold-sweats and frantic note-deciphering too?

I slept in, had a nice breakfast, realized it was already 11 o'clock and that there was no chance in hell I would be able to find a seat at Blindern; but instead of freaking out, I just packed my backpack full of fruit, a thermos and some sandwiches and went a-wanderin' with my head held high and a backpack stuffet with curriculum. It was awesome! It was Kubaparken! I was in the sun, laying down on my blanket with the smell of newly mowed grass intoxicating my nostrils with sneezy joy.

Not even the communist jibberish of Jean-Luc Nancy could get me down. Every time during his text that I felt like burning the book and hunting down him and his family for wasting my time so arrogantly, I just turned around on my planket, felt the warm sun on my face and closed my eyes for a few minutes. The sun drained my hatred and filled it with contentment.

The only downer of the day was right before I left, when a party-swede couple laid down quite close to me and fell asleep with ENERGY radio station blaring from their phone/speaker. (Rhiannas new song sucks...)

But now my cheeks are glowing pink and evermore freckly and have actually read something pertaining to my exam for once. Hopefully I will not have to set foot in any of those baltic airport looking libraries before exams, if the weather holds up!

Hare Krishna

17 Mai, the roof and the horror of a floating bunny head

This year I started a new tradition of refusing to go anywhere near Karl Johan and all the traditional festivities of the 17th of Mai. I think that was one of the best ideas I've had this year. I slept in, had a nice breakfast and eventually meandered over to the Sofienberg park about five-hundred meters to my left, had my first beer, went to Kuba parken (literally, right outside my window) for some more parkly fun in the semi-sun and when that was all over I brought my friends (new and old) to the magical roof!
Where you find the prettiest little hippies!
Romance of the gorgeous people kind
Magnificent vintage
Oslo at your feet
The highest place you might find yourself peeing at some point
Horrifying floating decapitated cartoon bunnies
Where the play-fighting might take an unexpected turn for the awkward
Blondie never won
Someone might even get their manly earrings ripped out, but theres always a pretty girl to make you feel better

When the alcoholic stimuli has been devoured you pack your essentials and head to Mir (also about five-hundred meters to my left)
Where you give someone the eye and then get hit on and yelled at by old drunks
and loan your bed to a girl with the prettiest eyes you've ever seen!
I will never again have a stressful 17th of May. I will dress up like a pirate, drink like I've forgotten about life, exams and papers and fall in love with Oslo some more!

Hare Krishna

singlenesss

Man oh man-OH-MAN JIAHE

Smoking makes you thinner kids and fashion is for shallow fuckers like me!

Vanessa Bruno Spring/Summer 2010 from viacomit on Vimeo.

THIS is the kind of thing I would love to do before I have to retire from modeling (25) or if that doesn't happen, as an actress before I there die of old age (41)...

I would also like someone to find me interesting enough to come to my house and take semi-candid shots of me in my weird thrifted clothes from around Oslo and the world that I will never have the heart to throw away...







I would also like to own a collection of freaky gigantic stuffed-animals heads (no real ones, HORRIFYING!)
And like Erin Wasson here shows us, smoking looks good when you look good. I kind of want a cigarette. I keep saying "I only smoke when I drink," but it so happens that I drink quite a bit and therefore almost smoke regularly. What do I do then? Well, I'll do what the kids do and listen to the advise of The Flintstones:
God bless the 50s, God bless America and the ass-aches they keep putting themselves trough!

Hare Krishna

What WHAT?! It's me by Anja Amundsen!

This is the result of me modeling for lovely Anja Amundsen, styled by Trine Juliane Grabo and make-up'ed by some goth chick from Niss (She was awesome too, but my goldfish brain could only withstand the pressure of learning two names and simply blacked out when she told me hers...)

I like them. I'm supposed to be a superblogger, but I'm not sure if that translates very well, but who gives a flying pancake when I di not completely stuff up my first photoshoot!

I'm proud!

Hare Krishna

Siren

Beyonce's got ass

"Why Don't You Love Me" - Beyoncé from Beyoncé on Vimeo.

I am in no way Beyonce's biggest fan; but man oh man, is there any way not to look like a hairy turd next to this stunning piece of woman?! I have a secret dream of someday having the curves to pull the look in her new video off, although I know for a fact that when I gain weight it does not make me look move curvaceous, just plain broader. Lucky me ay?

Why don't we love you Beyonce? Look at yourself woman, your an abomination of hotness!

Hare Krishna

Brarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

T by Alexander Wang bras

I've been away in Australia and Singapore lately and have neglected my bloggily duties and since I'm a lacy bastard with a very short attention span you'll have to wait a while for me to dig through the muck of images I have gathered from the trip. Anyway, I had some friends over for lunch today and as body image impaired folk per usual, we meandered upon the subject of boobies and boobie-size. As I have little to no boobs,the bras seen above are exclusively the style I wear and they are AWESOME, aren't they. My boobs yelp for pleasure at the thought of them. It's really either throwing obscene amounts of money at Alexander Wang or jumping right on over to freeing them from enclosure Hippy-style.

I have to start fixing my qualificatory paper for EST2000 now, which is a gigantic pain in buh-bom-pah-bum so I say welcome back to myself. Pat myself on the back for blogging again and leave you with a heartfelt angry dance:



Hare Krishna

Siren

The inside of my head

Mareunrol's Nightmares from Valdis Celmins on Vimeo.

I love this. I love creative people. I hate creative people. LET ME BE ONE OF YOU!