This is the full "last supper" image and my T-Shirt says "Nothing With a Face or a Mother." This is a movement for global vegetarianism, apparently. I don't know if I like the idea of forced or coerced vegetarianism, but since I'm already one I approve this message that also has my face on it.
P.S: I'm looking at Jesus bum... His sheet kept sliding off! *Giggle*
Here is a link to the collection called Place in the Sun. Finally up and running! Get ready for cheeeslovers world domination!
I know this is starting to look more and more like a boring Charlotte Thorstvedt-like "look-at-me-I'm-so-cool-for nothing" diary, but bare with me; I don't have anything interesting to say so write about myself. Maybe I should start writing in third person as to not sound like such a douch. We'll have to see what the future holds...!
Back to look-at-me'ness:
About two months ago I did a photo shoot with Kevin Azzopardi from Sum of Itself, but because I'm a complete dumbass, I don't know how to download the actual photos, but for now this is the cropped close-up of me (that Julie from my agency put out on my page) and "evil-waiter-Judas" in our pro-animal rights ad-vertorial. The T-Shirt I'm wearing says something clever about being a vegetarian and will be sold somewhere on the internet pretty darn soon. More to come,hopefully, when I figure out the internet...
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!
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.
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!
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!
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...
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!
This is the full "last supper" image and my T-Shirt says "Nothing With a Face or a Mother." This is a movement for global vegetarianism, apparently. I don't know if I like the idea of forced or coerced vegetarianism, but since I'm already one I approve this message that also has my face on it. 
Innlegg
