Morning blues

Today, it is tuesday. The traditional sunday fear and loathing should have gone by now. There is not even the slightest possibility that any alcohol at all still resides in my body. Yet it's there, barely, peeking out from beneath my inner eye. And I blame it all on this: Lack of sleep. I live in an environment severely hostile towards sleep. I'm not the kind of person who's able to sleep seven or eight hours a night and still bounce about like a bumblebee on speed. I really need to do something about my curtain-thingy.

But aside from that, I'm thinking it's about time to stop writing about my mundane everyday experiences. After all, I'm here for your entertainment, since you're all too lazy to step away from your computer. So I'll try to update more often, my social life be damned. But right now, I've got to prepare for two brutal hours of lecture at the university. Oops. I did it again, it would seem. Ponder this while I'm gone: Yesterday I saw a man with boobs, and he wasn't even fat. Scary.

On bodily fluids and IKEA

Alright all you dimwitted leprechauns, this is the shit: I am now wireless, moneyless and I have the ability to actually talk into my mobile. Also, I have furniture. Hurray for me! Due to an ill-timed sickness, however, I've been unable to do anything the last couple of days without sprouting goo from my nose all the time. Which includes two quite traumatic visits to IKEA, only one of which resulted in the actual buying of furniture, and the assembly of said furniture.

As for the collective, our actions this last week can perhaps best be likened to those of a headless chicken arguing with itself. Not very coordinated, to say the least. Which brings me to my next point: One of my housemates (the one who most likely infected me with her evil bacteria) wanted to be mentioned in this blog (perhaps expecting something cute? But perhaps not), so here goes my first co-resident presentation: Don't let the sweet looks fool you, this one's a spankin' dominatrix, only without all the leather. Her hobbies probably includes barbecuing cute animals and small boys while laughing maniacally. She was last seen complaining over something. All in all, she's one of the nicer girls out there.

Not much time for spelunking around the internet lately, but I do have one tiny link for you all to check out. Here you will find some music made by an old schoolmate of mine, enjoy.

The Imaginary Death of a Salesman

I hate my job. Now, I'm not too thrilled about working in general, but the reason I hate this job so much is simple: I despise people. They're rude, they're foul-smelling, and now I even have to talk to them and put up with all their poison and filth in order to earn money. It's degrading, it is. Of course I mention this only because I had my first headbutt with a tremendously moronic customer (or not, as it were) tuesday. He was pill-poppingly angry at me for some reason, and as such proceeded to yell at me and call me names. Boo hoo. Well, here's what I couldn't say on the phone, but would have loved to:

Dear Moronic Customer: First of all, learn to speak in such a way that people will be able to understand what you are saying. Second, shut the fuck up. I understand that you're confused and have trouble interacting with other human beings, I just don't care. If you're so miserable you have to unload on people doing their job, maybe you should consider getting a divorce. Or a cat if you're single, which I very much suspect is the case. Either way, here's a tip on dealing with people selling you stuff you don't want: Just Say No (Actually, this I did say on the phone). It makes your life easier, and it sure as hell makes me less destructive. (End of rant)

The other day I saw a "Non-stop Delivery" car stopping at a red light, and found it amusing.

Learn skiing for FREE (but not here)

Now I've officially settled in my new apartment. Not all residents are present, however, so the big, juicy conflicts haven't reared their heads just yet. I did encounter a problem in my room, namely that the curtain-thingy refused to stay down, but that was fixed rather quickly with some tape and a skiing accessory. Tell me, what can't some skiing equipment and a little bit of ingenuity fix? Hell if I know.
Although, I imagine if someone falls down the somewhat steep stairs that connects our living room and kitchen, I imagine it'll take more than a couple of slalom boots to fix them up.

Fun fact: According to Wikipedia, skiing was pronounced "she-ing", from Norwegian, in the early 20th century. Oh, alright, maybe the fact wasn't quite as fun as I led on, but who said you're supposed to have fun while learning anyway? You spoiled bastards.

Currently listening to Herbie Hancocks Head Hunters, which is annoying the hell out of one of my housemates. Heh, heh. The simple joys of everyday life..

Last Call

Now I'm sitting in my soon-to-be-ex-apartment, listening to Gorillaz using only the speakers God (AKA Dell) gave my laptop. In a way it reminds me of the music from older, PC speaker-only games, only a bit too rich for it's own good. But anyway, tomorrow I have to return my keys, so now I'm picking up the few pieces left and dragging them to my new apartment, which is rather nice. The biggest drawback is the internet situation, which remains somewhat unclear for the time being. So don't expect any immediate updates (not that you did anyway, right?), but make sure to check back in a week or so.

Thought of the day: Just because we think we exist, does that make it true? I know, I know, it's not the most original idea, but I have to leave you bastards with something until I return, right? 'Cause return I shall, and an impact on the world it will have. Maybe just a small impact, extremely tiny even, but hey, I'll take whatever I can get.

What Women Want (with no Mel Gibson in sight, thank Monkey)

I'm finished with my first week (AKA 2 days) at work and have become immensely tired. Alright, so work in general is exhausting, I get that. But can someone please tell me why, after sitting down for several hours, I'm tired in my legs? To me, at least, that doesn't make a goddamn lick of sense. But then again, I don't feel very bright after repeating the same sentences 69 times.

Also, after spending my breaks at work with mostly girls today, I can proudly say that I've uncovered the truth about women. Yes, gentlemen, I have solved the puzzle which men worldwide have tried to crack throughout all of history. Actually, it's dissappoitingly simple, and I know some of you will smack your foreheads in a minute and cry out "Of course! I knew it!". Which of course you didn't, but that's OK. So now, let me give all of you the answer to the question 'what are women thinking'..

I hope you're paying attention? Good, 'cause here it comes:

Cock.

No need to thank me (although some money would be nice). Just venture out into the great ole world, armed to the teeth with this new, not-so-revolutionary knowledge, and give them what they want. And then all wars will end, and everyone will live happily for the rest of the weekend.

As for me, I have some serious relaxing to do. I think I can hear Knights of the Old Republic calling in the distance.. calling for some brave soul to step up and destroy the whole fucking universe. Today, I'm that soul, so pray for your loved ones before Darth Sleeper comes knocking.

MOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA! (or, if you prefer, ROFL)

Back! And with a new, exciting link

Whaddya know? Now I'm a bastard and getting paid for it. If I call you, please don't hang up. Because I'm giving you the chance of a lifetime..

..or something. Anyways, I've joined the evil ranks of telemarketers now, and although it's not the lowest of the low (it's for a good cause. No, really) it's not exactly the most honorable of professions. But did I mention that it's for a good cause? Besides the fact that I, too, need to eat, I mean.

Before I run, let me welcome the new link to the left, which leads to Bobleboks, an illustration and design company. It's a very small company, but since when did size matter anyway? The owner (and only employee) is a friend of mine, and he assures me he's not into heavy drugs (well, actually I never asked), despite evidence to the contrary. Have a look for yourself, it's mighty fine work.

And so it came to pass that I really had to get ready for work. But rest assured, from now on I'll do a better job at updating this blog. Really, I promise. You've got it in writing now. And as we all know, when something is in writing, it must be true.

Life, or something similar

Just thought I should chime in, since it's been awhile. I'm back, and I'm mostly unharmed. My vacation, in brief: The reunion was disappointingly uneventful. Sure, people disappeared mysteriously and neighbours reported strange lights in the sky, but you know.. there just wasn't any action. It was nice and all, but nothing worth reporting, or even exaggerating. So there.

I am planning to write something rude about Bob Geldof and his grandmother, so there's always a chance I might do that. Also: Finally saw brazilian masterpiece City of God, which you should go see immediately. Spent eleven straight hours watching the American remake of the Kingdom, which you don't really need to see. And I had another rather brutal confrontation with Mother Nature. More on that later. Probably.

I also watched a number of movies (none of them porn) and learned this: Where I'm from, people are so bored, they torture each other for fun (link in Norwegian). Or they torture others, anyway. Ladies and gents, I present to you: Humanity! (mild, unimpressed applause)

Like that big man with the missing brain says, "I'll be back". And soon.

Who you callin' a fat cow?

Mother Nature Strikes Again! A ladder was mercilessly attacked by a cow yesterday. If, by some strange twist of fate, you don't understand Norwegian, here's the gist of it:
A hired Lithuanian was innocently painting a house (what kind of house? It doesn't say) when the cow known as Monkey (lie) pushed the ladder he was on top of (but not in a sexual way, he claims), causing the man to break both his wrists. He explained what had happened by waving his limp hands around (a sight I would pay dearly to see) since he spoke neither English nor Norwegian. Noone knows what trauma the ladder suffers as a result of this. The police are holding the cow in custody, but have yet to extract a motive. Then again, they're not reading this blog. 'Cause you and I know what happened, don't we? Oh yes we do.

On a completely different note, I'm leaving my dirty den for an unknown amount of time, which means I probably won't update much during next week. Although, if the 5-year high-school anniversary I'm going to turns crazy I might drop a few lines. You just never know.

Also, 'Don't Get Lost in Heaven' has now officially replaced 'Fire Coming Out of the Monkey's Head' as my favourite 'Demon Days' track.

Interview With the Vampyre

Let's talk job interviews. My first meeting with this oh-so-crucial aspect of modern civilization was a few weeks ago, as previously mentioned. Then, all of a sudden, I've had three more in the last two days. Now, while today's interview was a quite uplifting affair, the two I had yesterday, both for telemarketing companies, struck me as rather bizarre. Let me count the ways..

The first one was strange in how the interviewers, a man and a woman, had clearly assigned roles. I felt like I was being interrogated, left in a small room, refused water (although in truth, I never asked), and being constantly cross-examined. First off, the man (bad cop) would ask me some questions about my background, personal qualifications and motivation for taking the job. Then he left, and the woman (good cop) came in, asking all sorts of relevant and irrelevant questions, including those I had already been asked, in a friendly manner. About 45 minutes later, another switch.
Bad Cop returned with mostly excactly the same questions, only this time he was quite a bit more aggressive in tone. How many times do I have to say why I want the job, anyway? In the end I felt like shouting out "the money! I'm here for the goddamn money!" but never did.

And yet, despite the 'bad NYPD Blue episode' feel of the whole situation, it was a lot more of an actual interview than the next one. The next one was, you see, something as utterly pointless as a group interview. Me and about nine other people were sitting around a table, trying to resist the urge to masturbate and wondering if that would get us the job. We also had a mini-discussion, regarding Norway's flabby royal line and whether they should be brutally executed or not (I had to argue not, unfortunately). In the end I can't really see what information the Potential Employers could possibly get about us as individuals, but then again, there is no 'I' in 'telemarketing'. Wait, there is. My bad.

Oh, and both interviews lasted for at least one hour. Which is at least 20 minutes too much for a part-time job. No offense meant (take note, because I rarely mean little or no offense), but you Potential Employers really need to ease up a bit. You won't know if someone is fit for the job until they've tried it, no matter how many suits they wear and how much damage their hair is doing to the ozone layer.
About the last interview, however, I've got nothing but good things to say. And so I won't say it, since I know how easily bored you people are.

Fire Coming Out of the Monkey's Head

I have been meaning to write a mini-review of Gorillaz' latest, Demon Days, but have come to the conclusion that it's pointless. I am able to talk about music for some time, but don't have much love for over-analyzers. There's not much to say about the album, really, other than this: If you have the slightest love for music (and I know people who don't), stop masturbating at once and go buy it. Or go buy it when you're done, I guess that's OK as well. Don't even try downloading it (at least not illegally), because the mountain known as Monkey will know.

Yesterday, I overheard a kid singing ABBA while on the toilet. It was somewhat disturbing, but also tells you everything you need to know about their 'music'.

The mountain has spoken.

Fix up, look sharp

Just some words of wisdom: Having no money with which to buy food and assorted edibles sucks. But having no money with which to buy tobacco sucks more.

Also feeling friendly today, so here's a warning: Wes Cravens latest horror (and I don't mean that it's scary), 'Cursed', is not worth your money. It's not even worth your toenail clippings. Trust me, it's not funny or ironic, and it's about as intelligent as my slippers. The acting, meanwhile, would make Ed Wood proud.

Todays nerdspeak: D1zz33 Rasc4l pwns.

Stars. Also, Wars.

Haven't posted in almost a week now. But remember, a true blogger never blogs when he hasn't got anything to blog about.

OK, that one was weak, I admit. You want to hear the somewhat embarassing truth? It's all George Lucas' fault. Well, not really. But my soul has been officially sucked into his blasted sci-fi fantasy universe, and the dirty soulsucker is titled Knights of the Old Republic (a somewhat silly name, I know). Here, the player finally gets a chance to become a true Jedi!
...
Like we've never played a jedi before. Bah, the premise is just as hokey as all the other Star Wars games (I think there's about 335325 SW games on the market now, and tomorrow LucasArts is releasing 750 more, including "Wookie vs. TIE Fighter" and "Sexy Hutts through history: wallpaper collection") but THIS game has been consumed by the Dark Side. It practically terminates your social life as you once knew it. Also, it makes your skin paler, you'll become skinnier, smell fouler and develop several eye diseases from lack of sleep.
What I'm trying to say is, it's fantastic. Hey, at least it's not WoW. One day I'll finish it, maybe even twice, and then I can resume my real life functions.

In other news: Well how the fuck should I know? You were skipping paragraphs again, weren't you?

The bitch is back, also vengeful

I went outside today, and shortly after I was brutally set upon by a bush. But this was no ordinary bush, not even the kind that drops bombs on you when you're not looking. No, dear/damn reader, this was the sort to chase one around Oslo screaming, which is exactly what it did, and typically noone even tried to help me. So anyways, what I learned from that unfortunate event is this: Going Outside is bad. It's unlikely I'll try it again anytime soon.

But what, you may, no, shall ask, would cause an otherwise peaceful bush to jump me like that? I have a theory, of course.

It's a vast conspiracy, planned and executed by none other than Mother Nature herself. Listen to this, her plan was quite brilliant: Instead of doing the tired old "zapped by lightning" routine, she employed some of her most trusted agents, mainly the sun and aforementioned bush. The sun had, naturally (oh the puns! the puns!), the most important role. He shone, like the brilliant bastard he is, just to lure me out of the relative safety of this deep, dark hole I call "home". The hook was there, and i gobbled it up, like a pale, bored fish.
Her one mistake, clever in idea though it was, was tasking a bush to to the dirty deed. I got away to tell the tale, and to warn others like me. I suspect, you see, that she simply wanted revenge for all the shit she's had to take over the years.

And if that's the case, you can bet she'll come gunning for you too, and soon. So stay on your toes, and fear Mother Nature.

Realizations

It just hit me like an elephant accidentally stepping on my scrotum: I've spent the entire day reading webcomics. The entire day! Worst part is, I didn't even enjoy them that much. I do, however, suspect that these two factors (entire day spent & not enjoy very very much. Pay attention, people!) are inextricably linked.

I'm looking forward to getting a job, earning some money, and buying myself a life. Hopefully a nice one, but I'll settle for anything.