Celebrate the modern end

First of all: If you are situated in Norway, I hope you caught the first episode of the new Doctor Who series yesterday. It's very entertaining, but in a good way.

Second: I missed the 5-year celebration of the Palestinian intifada yesterday, because I went shopping. How's that for irony?

It is he, the me.

Midnight Rambling

I have decided it is time to rise up and claim that thing which rightfully belongs to me; that thing called respect. Far too long I have muddled around like a dog cooking dinner for its fleas. Never again shall I grant favours to those who demand them from me without first asking, in a small and squeaky voice, "may I have some respect, please?".

My dignity is so cheap, I'm practically giving it away. Come get it while it's hot!

Celebrate we will

Hello, all. It's been a while, hasn't it? The election is over an' all. And the good guys won. Sort of. But I'm leaving the political analysis to someone who dares look the results in the eye, 'cause whenever I try to, I'm reminded that 1 in 5 norwegians are dead stupid. Oh, and that estimate is really only me being nice, because it only includes those who voted for the most populistic, most ridiculous party to ever grow large in Norway. In other words, these are simply the people who, through a massive display of idiocy, have declared themselves unfit to walk around in one piece. Spoiled fuckers.

Anyway, some lighter news: We had a party (of the kind where alcohol takes the place of politics) at the apartment last saturday. It was going to be a moving-in party, but somewhere along the way it just became a normal one with a lot of people in it. The merry event itself was fun, filled with beer and booze, and ended up the way these things should, with people slipping drunkenly in the shower and others passing out all over the livingroom. The hours leading up to it was the stressful part, however. Let me lay it out for you: One came home early saturday morning and slept through the day. Another ran around the apartment, nervous he wouldn't get laid at the end of the night. Then we had the one shouting "I don't give a fuck!" everytime someone asked her a question. In short, tensions were running high.

And then there was me. Trying to prepare the poor apartment for the onslaught of people (which never happened, by the way) we were expecting. I ended up buying some chips and tossing whatever garbage I could find into the nearest bedroom, while at the same time telling people off left and right. It was glorious. And, I nearly forgot, some mates of mine came early, friday in fact, from places far away, and one of them wanted to go shopping the day of the party. For shoes. After the thirty-second shoe shop visited, he finally gave up. That's when we bought the snacks, and shortly after I found myself showering in cold water while my mates went to sleep in my bedroom. But hey, later I got drunk, so I'm not complaining.

One more thing. Go buy this album. It's funky as hell.

You're listening to the streets

I have yet another bone to pick with polical advertising and the fuckers behind it. This morning, you see, one of my flatmates got a text message saying vote for us because yadda-yadda-yadda, with a personal greeting from one of the party's leaders. Oh-kay. My hope is that these types of lows will have the opposite effect (NO-VOTE-FOR-YOU), but sadly I doubt that's going to happen. So put this in your text message and smoke it: You Are Scum. You Exploit People's Lack of Intelligence and Ability to Think for Themselves. You Will Die Alone and You Will Go to Hell if There Is One.
Another form of advertising, which those of you who check blog comments may have noticed, is just as annoying but far more retarded. My smug smile was quickly changed to an angry frown when i discovered that the first comment from someone I don't know actually was a disguised advertisement. So you've bookmarked my blog, have you? Then read this: You're systematically going to fail at everything you attempt to do in life. The people you prefer to hang with will, eventually, grow tired of your half-assed attempts at being funny, and the people you can't stand will become your new best friends.

And now it's time for what today's blog is supposed to be about: The streets. While tha artist by the same name is excellent and should be heard by all, I'm talking about this: The actual streets. In case you're not norwegian or just clueless, Norway has gotten it's own version of The Big Issue. It's called =Oslo and, having checked it out myself, is definately worth your attention and money.
This I was planning to write this morning while reading the magazine and downing ridiculous amounts of coffee. Then I went outside. What I saw was, to me, deeply affecting and definitely one of those experiences where you learn something about yourself. The situation was quite simple: Some guys throwing another guy around, beating him, while he yelled for help and we all moved the fuck on. It sure as hell wasn't pleasant, but the worst part, naturally, was my own reaction (or rather, lack of). Anyway, their logic was, according to the shouting, this: The guy owed them money, so they had the right to beat him senseless. 'Flawed' doesn't even begin to describe their reasoning. Then again, if one has the problem-solving capabilities of a pitbull then this may be the closest they've come to a meaningful conversation since their mothers tried to get them off their tits. Either way, if God indeed created Man he sure didn't put a lot of work into it.

I went looking for the darker side of Oslo in my imagination, but it seems like reality has paid attention. Let's see if it can keep up.

(Edit) I'm leaving the comment spam untouched for public viewing. I also feel that if someone is inane enough to actually fall for it, they deserve whatever misfortune life throws at them.

Bend over like Beckham

So, here I am, thinking to myself: What the hell am I supposed to blog about today? After a day of moving stuff around (the result is quite nice, only slightly disappointing in that it's not as amazing as I had hoped) I feel rather empty in the bump on top of my body (on other people often referred to as 'brain'). But what do you know! Another friend to the rescue! What is The Question Quest, you might ask. And lo! it's creator has already asked for you, and given a coherent answer, too. Like before, if he keeps it up, he'll most definately go in the left. He's barely funnier than me, but not even half as rude. So by my standards I win. Ha ha! Anyway, go click already.
Friends: Writing about stuff so I don't have to. Gotta love 'em.

What is it like to be lost in a dark, disturbing version of Norway's capital city? I don't know, but I'm planning to go there and find out (no, I'm not talking about the west side). Somewhere inside my head there's a story noone has written. Why must it be me? It's hardly fair.

Watch this space

Hello all. It's me again. My, what an insane rate the site was updated all of a sudden, you might think. But, you see, I just found this, which is a friend's blog. It's still in the earlies, only a couple days old, in fact, but it's looking good. If he keeps it up, he might go on the left. But hey, we need some sort of quality control here, right?
Anyway, in sharp contrast to my not-so-humble self, this fellow actually has something to write about. What is this thing, this thing that he writes about, you might ask. But, I won't tell. Then why should I check it out, you might inquire further (at which point you would be starting to annoy me. It's one tiny click, after all). Why, for one thing he's much nicer than me, which is supposed to be a good thing. For another, nothing really encourages a blogger like people actually reading what you've written (believe me, I know). If you need more reasons, how about this: If you do not comply with my command (which is to check out his blog, in case you've forgotten) I will boil your grandmother and eat her as a sidedish to my fishsticks (alright, alright, I'll lay off the grandmothers from now on. Just this one last time, I promise).

So here's another link to his site, just to make sure you don't miss it and your grandmother comes off without a scratch.

And a third time.

And that's it. Now beat it.

Get behind the mule

I just had to chime in and tell you how confusing it is to have good old Tom Waits on my headphones. Here a crash, there a creak, every time I have to turn my head, wondering if any of my flatmates have had some sort of ugly accident. But, of course, it's just his crazed percussion.

Beware of the police at the station. They don't look friendly, methinks.

New Rules

These people should be shot at birth: People who don't clean up their own mess while living with others. People who work with political advertising. Newspaper editors (and journalists) who treat their readers like kids. I'm tempted to put people in general in this category, but I won't. For now.

The election's closing in, and I've just had my eyebrows waxed. I think that about sums up the general level of political consciousness in Norway. Still, it looks like the left will finally have their day, but of course, it's a left with adjustments (which means, basically, that the largest coalition party is nowhere near the left side of the political asshole-line). Even so, if they get the majority of representatives (in the Storting? Big thing? Unsure of the english term there) we might (I repeat, might) end up with a country that won't sicken me to death before I hit thirty. I suppose the decent thing to do is to encourage people to vote, to have their say no matter what their opinions are. But I'm anything but decent. Here's my advice: Vote for the socialist party, and tie everyone who's planning to do otherwise to a table come election day. Remember that other people actually do exist, and aren't just dreams to be used for your own benefit (as the right-wing parties seem to think). And if you think that's un-democratic or some such nonsense, try this thought on for size: Would you rather that other people voted for their own benefit, or for yours? Socialism is the new sliced bread, make it happen people. I believe in you, just this once.

Some words of wisdom in closing: The earth revolves around the sun. You are not the sun.

Some (hopefully) well-known news

In case you haven't followed the news lately (like, I'm ashamed to say, myself), here's a comment on the latest natural disaster to rock the world. I'm not going to make jokes about it, not because I'm in love with the U.S but because as always, it's the poor and the so-called "unfortunate" who suffers. Also, I strongly doubt even the most zealous islamic extremist hates New Orleans. To me, at least, it's always seemed like one of the best things the country of brutes have going for them. And now this. Damn shame's what it is.

Of course, the bastards overseas aren't alone in experiencing tragedies. If we're talking death toll, then Baghdad beats them easy. It's so sad when events like these are simplified for political use. Note to world leaders: Ya can't blame it all on terrorists, fuckers.

One last word: If you thought this post was terribly boring and wonder when there will be more fun and less depressing news, then close your eyes and try to make thoughts in your sad, mis-shaped head for once.
Don't get me wrong, fun will be had by all, eventually. After all, fun's the drug that keeps our heads from exploding while we're watching the world get fucked, right?