Indie Inspiration

(Erin Wasson via knightcat)

I love it! And now I'm off to buy other peoples castaways and nick-knacks in Birkelunden... Thrift'a-licious!

Douche'ing it up!

This is indisputably my blog and therefore I take this opportunity to blow my own horn. I had just had coffee and accompanied to the train a sexy farmlicious friend of mine when I decided to check out the home of Cheap Monday, Acne, Surface 2 Air etc. the shop Freudian Kicks and so I did. Once inside the shop I realized there was some kind of photo-shoot ending. I swallowed my curiosity, listened to my tunes and looked through the wonderfully expensive sexiness on the shelves.

As I perused a gorgeous man-cake kept smiling at me; I thought he might be the merchant and therefore I smiled and said "Hey" just as I realized he had an expencive looking camera over his sholder...
Photographer: "What do you do?"
Me: (Removing earplugs and looking confused) "Um...Sorry?"
Photographer: "What do you do?"
Me: "I'm a student."
Photographer: "Really? Your not in fashion?"
Me: "Um... No, just a student."
Photographer: "You should really be doing something in fashion; You have a beautiful... shape, and I think you could take some great pictures!"
Me: *Giggle* (red-faced and mumbling) "Really? Thank you!"
That's where I got uncomfortable and sweaty, and therefore smiled my best Good Bye smile and went on my way... But, he really made my day!

If I can't find a job soon maybe I should try this fashion thing. How one gets into fashion I don't know, but I think I could figure it out if I try. I would love to be able to make money from being tall, thin, weird looking and loosely limbed!


Hare Krishna

Siren

Embracing my flamboyant hipster-ism

Boy Crisis is an American Proto-Post Popular Music Band from the United States following the Rhythm & Blues Tradition of such classic acts as The Ronettes and New Edition, carrying on the Great Western practice of cultural appropriation in an attempt to forge at least some semblance of interpersonally translatable empathy and compassion and at most, true love. Two useful terms a music journalist might feel compelled to use in describing them would be: "danceable" and "pop hooks." Boy Crisis is a "Brooklyn buzz band." They are well-liked in the blogosphere. They are hip and marketable to several youthy demographics. They have "crossover appeal." They have an "ethnic band member." Boy Crisis is a semi-cosmic cultural entity. Their spaced-out vibe is totally tubular. They are the conundrum of masculinity and youth. They are a limited liability corporation. (MySpace)


The Fountain of Youth - Released: September 28, 2009


Hare Krishna

Siren

Too lucky for my own face

In the past I have been reluctant to attempt to disprove karma, although I have always had my doubts towards the teachings of Carson Daly and his missionary whose Name Is Earl, but seriously karma...

I have been sneaking on the public transport/moving trash-heap of Oslo for about a month now, hearing tales of people getting caught sneaking all around me and yes I have had my share of flickering eye-movement, suspicious staring and boogie-woogeing libs, but I have not seen a single ticket checking dude or dudette.

Today however, I finally managed to locate the student office to pick up my semester card and took the time to buy the illustrious student card for public transportation. Thus I proudly stamped my card and stepped onto the tube as a good citizen paying her transportation dues.

About thirty seconds later I absent-mindedly step of the tube at Jernbanetorget with my mobile to my hear and what do I see?! Yes, it is a blue clad army of ticket inspectors scowling at me with their narrow inspector eyes smelling my surprise and guilt.

Sadly for them I whipped out my freshly purchased and stamped card with my best Mona Lisa expression, let them stare at it unbelievingly for a bit and then I triumphantly walked past them.

Karma, have you forgotten me or am I still feeling the good karma from my early refusals to knock on peoples doors as most children of Jehovah Witnesses are somewhat coerced to do?

Hare Krishna

Siren

KateSexyFlowerTime

Is it physically possible to be sexier than miss nosebleeds?

I want to go to there

Weekdays.se

A Patients View

As I wrote in the last posty-wost, I have debilitating odontophobia that was put to the test today as I had to go to the dentist and actually get my lower right wisdom tooth chopped up in bits and ripped out of my face-hole. I have not been to the dentist and actually had anything done in about four years. Partly because I'm scared shitless and of course the shame of knowing that there indeed definitely was something bad going on inside my cake-hole and doing nothing about it.

Anyway, I didn't sleep a wink last night and was feeling like there was a strong possibility of me projectile vomiting in the dentists face whilst crying trying to climb out a window.

At 14:37 I got a call on my mobile from the orthodontist office asking me where I was. I had mentally prepared myself for my appointment at 15:00, but of course I was mistaken and had to leg it wildly since I was already seven minutes late. Needless to say I broke down in the car... I Cried and hyperventilated like the distressed Mule on seeing the hill-dog of Nick Caves distressing inbred universe.

I managed to stop crying, dry-heaving and awkwardly giggling before going inside the orthodontist office where I witnessed something incredible. My dentist managed to put me at ease just by smiling at me.
Her dark-blue eyes sparkling, her long blonde hair flowing in a low pony-tail behind her with a flower pin holding back her stray bangs and her naturally tanned skin shining in beautiful contrast to her light blue scrubs. Her voice was soft and calming, understanding my distress and professionally explaining every move she made.
She made me feel safe even in that preposterous situation. I hardly felt anything and it was over in about an hour. The tooth was HUGE and she had to sew me up a bit with two stitches, which was the most uncomfortable part because she seemed to be trying to put both her hands inside my mouth at the same time to be able to sew it together.

It was absurd to see her concentrating on her job and then realising that her job is actually inside my mouth. I felt like a baby: unable to speak, only seeing their heads, feeble and helpless; concentrating on her flower pin and breathing as if vigorously practising Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga on my head.

Sadly, at this point my extensive numbing has started wearing off and I need to feel sorry for myself with my favourite "Five a Day:"

Hare Painkillers

Siren