4th of July

I know we haven't allways seen eye to eye, but you did let me live in you for a year and I grew to love you and all the awesome that can be destilled from your unapologetic and generally hatefully crafted diverse pile of crazy!

Hare Krishna

Siren

We go together like the internet and kiddie-porn

After the magnificent Devendra Banhart concert last night I realized I had forgotten my phone and therefor went home instead of meeting up with the NOFX posse I live with and pretty much instantly fell asleep. At about 3am I woke up and there was (of course) a nachspiele going on in the apartment, as is our newfound tradition. I couldn't be bothered with socializing at that point so I tried going back to sleep, but about ten minutes later some creepy stranger opens my door, I sit up puzzled and desperately wishing I owned pepper-spray.
"I'm here for the nachspiele" Sounding ALOT like the start of a porn movie.
"Ok, well as you can see it's not happening in here..."
"Eh, who are you?"
"I live here." Meaning: Get the fuck out!
"Eh, oooookaaaay" Lingering as if he thought I was the house sex-kitten, ready to welcome him to the nachspiele with some naked fun-times...
"Nachspiele is downstairs!"
"Oh, well have fun here"

Needless to say, I immediately started locking the door.



Hare Krishna

Siren

I need you like a nun needs cock!

The day is finally here; I'ts time for Devendra Banhart at Rockefeller! MY GOD I LOVE A BEARDED MAN! I've started drinking and this night is going to be aaaaaaaaaaaaawesome!







"Baby"



"Feel just like a child"

See you after this epic concert.

Hare Krishna

Siren

Bus Pick-Me-Up!

As I'm feeling the dreadful summer-depression devouring more and more of my soul as the summer grows hotter and darker, work is nowhere to be seen except on the odd weekend when I desperately want to socialize with the jobs galore fuckers that I know (I love you, I don't mean it, well I kind of do, I hate you all, fuck you all, WHERE IS MY VALIUM?) here in Oslo; I've started cherishing the little things in life (and of course violently mocking my fuck-buddy and treating him like crap over the weekend even though I actually rather like him...), like what happened on the bus today.
As I was on the bus trying to look inconspicuous and like any other ticketholding passenger, staring intently out the window with sunglasses on and with my music on full blast whilst gritting my teeth, a stunningly gorgeous man in his mid-twenties with a scruffy afternoon shadow sat down next to me. I was taking the bus all the way from Skøyen so when we hit Jernbanetorrget, we had been sitting together for a while. Suddenly he turned to me, touched my arm and said:

In Swedish "Hey, you have really gorgeous hair."
Turning away from the window and picking my music out of my ears "Sorry, what?"
"You have really gorgeous hair, is it colored or natural?"
Puzzled "Somewhere in between I think.."
"It's pretty, so what do you do?"
And from there it went on. He was charming and I was reluctant until the bus his Hausmanns gate where he said he had to get off at the next stop.
"Would you like to go get some ice cream or something sometime?"
Needless to say I was still confused at the situation of being hit on in a bus, by this incredibly hot (I can only assume "party-) swede," but I was so lost in his hotness and impressed by a man who hits on a girl whose headphones blare with music and whom stares intensely out a window blatantly pretending he doesn't exist that I actually said yes and gave him my REAL number. I doubt I'll text him back if he actually tries to contact me, but it was a nice ego-boost for me, and let's be honest, it probably was for him too.

Here's to party-swedes with too much confidence and slightly sub-par social antennae!

Hot-N-Fun, this song is about them:


Hare Krishna

Siren

Where's Waldo?

One, such as me, might not realize how small my beautiful Oslo actually is. My even more stunning, Bergen (Where I come from) is just a pimple of beauty in an already acned face. Norway in other words, is gorgeous! It is however very small with some green but mostly blue and is mostly unpopulated; much like planet earth in the inconceivably large solar system. I'll call Norway the planet earth of the planet earth.

How did I get to this realization you ask? Photo/fashion-bloggers naturally. We've all heard of FACEHUNTER running around the big cities like New York and Paris taking incredible pictures of stunning ladies with incredible style. One photo by THE COBRASNAKE in a party in LA or New York could make your career if your anything along the lines of model, actress, singer, designer or stylist. In Oslo, what happens is that some kind of second rate photographer (in my case, a girl that also spends her days working at Monki, Bik Bok or something) takes a photo of you at EVERY party for the pleasure of absolutely no one except yourself...

How do I know Oslo is a small city trying so hard to catch up with older brothers Stockholm and Copenhagen? I'm the Waldo of Where's Waldo at the parties of Oslo...

(Photos: Martin Johansen for SMUG)

(Photo: Oslo Nights)

(Photo: Mia from MIAMARIONETTE)

I'm being slightly hipocrytical now thought, because naturally I like having my picture taken, but it is funny that I keep popping up everywhere even though I'm just an overly douchy aesthetics student, part-time model and soon to be barista; and there's more streetstyle to come!

Hare Krishna

Siren

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