My silly computer has completely given up on me. Appharently my computer (Leif-Johnny) knows that I'm too trendy for my own good and therefore has cut me off from the interweb.. BAAAAASTAAAARD! I don't react well to weblessness. It makes me talk more than usual, to myself...
As you can see from the top of my post, during my mianderings about in my neighbourhood in Bergen I found a bird in an uncomfortable position an now I feel it perfectly describes my current webless turmoil!
Do birds flap about like crazy when they die by windshield as well or is it just hen they get their heads chopped off? I really want to know, if anyone knows please hollar at me! And do animals poop when they die, South Park style?
I'm feeling very morbid today, might it be the lack of interweb messing up my brainbox?
Postywosting by mobile, annoying as crying babies on airplanes, but cool!
I have a tendency to resemble a drowning rat at festivals wither the rain pores or the sun scorches, but not this time! I have devised a full proof plan to look, smell and dress gorgeously!
This Roskilde, so help me Jeebus I will not have anything rat-like about me; I will be festivalisious like insatiable Kate Moss at Glastonbury in 2005 Or Agyness Deyn at Coachella Valley Music ans Arts Festival Chloe Sevigny at Coachella Valley Music ans Arts Festival (Incidentally, my curiosity grows as to what this divine fashionista haven one finds in Coachella Valley is...)
And now for the checklist (I'm writing this from a internet cafè in Oslo as my laptop died in Bergen, I'm scared and alone without my computer end my sexy internet..)
Anyway
1. Travel toothbrush/paste kit: you can drop it in mud because its in a sexy little box.
5. Raggedy old clothes: Fashionably raggety of course...
6. Rubber Wellington boots, Raincoat/pants: just in case of another flood year
7. SUNSCREEN
8. Hat, sunbrealla or other sun redusing contraptions
The rest is up to you!
The time on my computer is dancing lower than a hip-hop dancers bum-bum in a Lil' Wayne video and therefore I must leave you... Hope to see you all at Roskilde festival where I'll be from this monday and that means internet silence from today until July 6!
Hare Krishna
Siren
PS: RIP Michael Jackson; You were the man who made the first CD I ever bought all by myself as a little girl!
Just stumbled upon an intriguing Norwegian online magazine about style and I thought it a grand and noble gesture to share it with you! Affordable clothes from stores we actually have in all the "major" and minor cities of Norway. Check it out: Spilled Milk (Love the name as well; I can relate to spilling stuff, I don't cry about it and I know where milk comes from!)
AND
I bought a new touchscreen mobile a few days ago and I have finally begun to wrap my brain around all the intellectually challenging and patience-boggling gadgets it has. I finally stopped stressing out and screaming when attempting to pick up when someone calls.Look at this sexy bastard sitting in his little chair, playing music, loving life, waiting to get in my pocket; cheeky! Nokia 5800 Xpressmusic!!
I should know better by now, but as I was looking for a BFF worthy perfume for summer I stupidly seeked guidance from a perfume-merchant in Parfymelle or whatever the store next to Platekompaniets called.
To be fair I didn't really seek so much as give in to this elderly womans guidance in the perfume war. She asked me what I was looking fore: Perfume for a vibrant 22 year old woman, whose birthday is tomorrow (today, happy Birthday!). Price: Don't know, only criteria is that is smells magnificent, enchanting, replicates the AXE comercials with every spray.
She looked at me humourlessly for a second... I knew something was askew... Then she pointed at something on the wall behind the counter and mumbled without a change in her voice and her murky, rugged, robot face emotionless, but with a hint something a assumed to be grumpy: "Værsays, this is very popular, green værsays." I looked at the popular object this enchanting woman war pointing at to seeVærsays...
It smells OK, a bit to rich and strong for my taste, nevertheless a fair choice for the modern woman (although, maybe not a 22, more like 32). After I had refused the perfume she commenced the shower-cream/body lotion rambling. Although I told her explicitly that the only cosmetic product I wanted to look at where perfumes she still showed me four different shower products I did not care to look at.
"How much is the Gucci Eau de Parfum in the cute little pink bottle?" I recieved some mumbling in reply before she turned and said: "How about a nice Tommy Girl perfume?"
That's when I left. I hate people whom don't take me seriously... It might be hard to believe, but sometimes I actually can have an adult conversation if I put my mind to it! She didn't even spray the little paper thingies to let me smell the perfumes!! If you have had the same crappy job for forty years IT IS YOUR OWN FAULT, don't take it out on the shoppers.
As my mentality grows ever more indolent and my body increasingly reacquaints itself with the intriguing, beautiful yet frighteningly ordinary place I call home: Bergen, I've felt myself distancing from disconcerting realities. The reality of a skipped exam, an apartment situation in dire need of change, a selective mobile whom chooses the recipients of texts for me without asking my permission, an unsavoury expectancy towards the future. I might not have the mental aplomb to change any of these realities yet, but I have managed to get myself into yet another situation worth mentioning in the bloggiverse as the title of this post leads you to believe.
On Saturday night I had, with the help of a fellow Goddess planned a shindig of mediocre proportions. It had not been long since the yearly day of my own personal New Years Eve and I was ready to blissfully drink the night away. I painted on my face, put on my best crushed velvet body/onesie on, left my bra at home and let the drinking commence at my friends house. We laughed, we drank and I opened some wicked presents. (Coincidentally, I found that you can give me basically anything as a gift if the reasoning behind it is that I'm Catwoman) Later in the glorious evening of Bergen styled tomfoolery I felt the need to smoke a cigarette and as I was carried out and the unreasonable events started to unfold.
It is an easily noticeable fact that I do not look nor feel comfortable or unperturbed standing right up and down whilst talking to people. Some exceptions apply, but still.. Therefore I found myself fleeing towards a railing on the patio on which to lean for a James Dean look with my cigarette seductively placed between my lips. Instead of this, I found myself leaning up against something sticky; yes my friend, the inhabitant of the house had neglected to mention that there was wet paint on that railing. My hands and the bum-bum area of my pants where now grey. "Not to worry!" My friend exclaimed, "I can fix it." She took me by the hand and led me to a back room, where she delicately rubbed the paint off me with a cloth soaked in White Spirit or Stoddard solvent. I have never had a woman rub White Spirit on my ass before...
Needless to say she got the paint off and I was relieved. As we gigglingly walked back into the living room I suddenly realised that White Spirit is quite strong and therefore I cannot sit down on the couch any more. I still did, but what I don't understand is why I didn't think It might be bad for my jeans as well and not to mention my skin.
As we sat in the taxi on our way into town I felt a slight discomfort on my buttocks. I quickly put it out of my head and resumed the impossible mission of trying request a song from the grumpy taxi man when we clearly where listening to the radio.
As we hit the cue at Scotsman (a place I would not recommend to an enemy)I suddenly felt a growing burning sensation on my ass. It got so bad that I had to leave the cue, run to Burger King, reluctantly enter the disgusting bathrooms and take my pants off.
My bum is completely red today, and quite sore. Thank God I was drinking or I would have been a lot more traumatized today than I am.
In conclusion: DON'T RUB YOUR BUTT WITH WHITE SPIRIT!
It's my birthday today and therefore I command you to sing this song to me (I might have confused birthday with supreme ruler of the universe'day, but sing nonetheless minions)!
Hare Krishna
Siren
Lyrics:
Stewie: Now everybody gather ’round and listen if you would When I tell you every person needs a way of feeling good Every kitty needs a ball of string and every dog a stick
Stewie & Brian: But all you need is a bag of weed to really get a kick
All: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight A Bag of Weed, A Bag of Weed Oh, Everything is better with A Bag of Weed It’s the only hope that you’ll ever need Cuz’ Everything is better with A Bag of Weed
Stewie: Here you go, you’re all getting it now
Ensemble: When Texas people want to feel good,
Stewie: They go assault a queer.
Ensemble: When stupid people need a thrill,
Stewie: They rent The Rocketeer.
Ensemble: When Michael Jackson needs a rush,
Stewie: He humps a guy like me.
Ensemble: Right!
All: But all we need is a bag of weed, To keep us worry free. One, Two, Three, HO! A Bag of Weed, A Bag of Weed Oh, everything is better with A Bag of Weed Oh, you don’t need meth and you don’t need speed Cuz’ Everything is better with A Bag of Weed
Stewie: Have a go, Brian!
Brian: As Mr. H.L. Mencken said, “The common man’s a fool.”
Stewie: And just like Helen Keller said, “Doof stoo gee nay foo tool.”
Brian: But try and use your heads and don’t buy into all the fear.
All: HEY! ‘Cuz all we need is a bag of weed To make us wanna cheer! And One, Two! A Bag of Weed, A Bag of Weed Oh, everything is better with A Bag of Weed You can try and fight but we’re all agreed Because everything is better with A Bag of Weed
One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, And One, Two, Three, Four, And A Five, And A Six, And A Seven! HO!! A Bag of Weed, A Bag of Weed Oh, everything is better with A Bag of Weed You’re a happy guy but you can’t proceed Because everything is better with A Bag… Of… Weed! Oh ev’rything is better with a bag of weed!!
I must apologise for the lack of posts these last wondrous and beautiful summer days! I shall get my blogging act together and not fail you now when you need me the most: lazy summer days of excessive beer drinking, ice-cream slurping and soy-burger BBQing!
Hansa Summer beer! Strawberry Sundae!
I love summers blessings. My Birthday. Strawberries. Reuniting with old friends. My skin is less pasty and riddled with adorable freckles; not to mention my rekindled excitement of taking pictures with a disposable camera. There is no pressure to put the pictures on facebook and I can't see them before the nice clerk at the local Foto Knutsen hands them to me with a crooked, yet judgemental smile. These are some summer scans from my newly created summer disposable camera collection. This the first time I had bought a Rosé Wine... I didn't care for it...
The battery on my computer is dying at an alarming rate, but hastily I must beg your unstoppable knowledge to help me find a better blog-name than My Bloggy Wog... There are ridiculous amounts of Russell Brand/Clockwork Orange fans out there and therefore My Bloggy Wog does not resemble my individuality adequately! HELP!
Profusely radiating love in your direction from my current place of folly: Bergen!
Innlegg
