November 2008
Now, I do remember why I didn't post this link. You see, I seem to know quite a few people who would fit nicely into the category of what has been referred to as a whole generation of English emotional retards... And I didn't want to offend them.
So why do I post it now? Well, we're all approaching 30 rather rapidly so I'm think I'm just doing them a favour by pointing it out. Besides research shows that dealing with their ... well, emotional retardedness (is that even a word?) could give them a longer life.
That is if they are even read this. Chances are they don't anyway.
PS: I don't think you really have to be English for it to apply...
Tuesday, 28 July 2009
Getting Older
April 2009
You know something has happened when after spending 20 minutes with the beauty product lady in the tax free shop you hear yourself saying:
"But what about this one, is this "preventative" as well?"
So I am now the slightly reluctant owner of a so-called preventative moisturizer. And yes, I do realize that it's just a nicer name for anti-wrinkle cream. The really worrying thing is that it feels like it's actually working...
You know something has happened when after spending 20 minutes with the beauty product lady in the tax free shop you hear yourself saying:
"But what about this one, is this "preventative" as well?"
So I am now the slightly reluctant owner of a so-called preventative moisturizer. And yes, I do realize that it's just a nicer name for anti-wrinkle cream. The really worrying thing is that it feels like it's actually working...
Monday, 27 July 2009
Under Attack
April 2009 I can't say I saw it coming, but then I can't say I was all that suprised either.
A week ago, just over a month after I had my last working day there, the Embassy was attacked and trashed completely.
I was in Denmark at the time, but thanks to the particularly interactive vandals I could watch my old desk and computer get smashed with an axe on my laptop in the safety of Thomas' kitchen - only an hour after it happened.
I suppose I could say a lot about the Tamil diasphora in Norway, about how they have gone from appearing like super immigrants to revealing a much more hardline approach to their grievances. Or how they don't even try to conceal their support for the LTTE anymore. But I think I'll stick to just saying this: Once again I am surprised by the logic behind blaming Norway for what is going on. For blaming us for not doing more.
Talking sense into both parties has been tried numerous times with little effect. Our mandate ends right there.
Sunday, 26 July 2009
Mothers
January 2008
For some reason it worked like this: We argued, she baked something, asked me if I wanted some and when I did she was happy again. Just like that.
I would never understand it, but could just hope I would be equally overbearing with my own children some day.
For some reason it worked like this: We argued, she baked something, asked me if I wanted some and when I did she was happy again. Just like that.
I would never understand it, but could just hope I would be equally overbearing with my own children some day.
The Perfect Guy
October 2008
Why do all horsey girls secretly dream of shacking up with a professional rider?
If you'd asked me to make a list of what qualities I look for in a man it would go something like this: 1) Trustworthy 2) Educated 3) GSOH - or my kind of humour. (Same thing really...)
And I think it is safe to say that most professional riders I know of would be nowhere near fulfilling the first two - and the ones that are excruciatingly funny are gay anyway. So in other words my intellect tells me I should not be looking for a rider. And I don't. I really don't expect to find my man anywhere near these kinds of arenas. But then there was this one guy the other weekend...
I first noticed him because he was tall, rather good looking and stood a bit too close to me in the warm up arena. Not good looking in a stunner kind of way, but he had good eyes. And I'm all about the eyes. I think it is because most of the time the easiest way to tell whether you can trust a guy is the look he has in his eyes - or so my theory goes anyway.
So there I was eyeing up a guy at a horse show because he had special eyes. And then when he got out of my personal space and onto his horse he was a bloody good rider too. I suppose you'd expect as much of someone competing at that level, but it is not always the case. So I sat there and watched him warm up discovering that he was German, very tidy over a fence and probably in his early thirties. Perfect.
My first horsey crush was on a guy whose artist name was Lorenzo. Yes, I know, that is not the kind of thing you want to be admitting to, but in my defence I was about twelve and he did this thing where he stood on two horses and jumped fences. It was pretty damn cool, and besides he was drop dead gorgeous in that French kind of way. So after my dad arranged for me to meet him, shake his hand and get his autograph after the show he was my man.
But fortunately I've come a long way since then, and I certainly don't hold a fascination for men with artist names any more. Besides working with horses for years teaches you a few things. Like that there aren't a lot of guys like that around, and that the ones that have that impressive wow-factor have an equally impressive number of girls chasing after them. So you learn to ignore it and in my case start looking for a guy who'll at least tolerate the horsey lifestyle even if he doesn't actively engage in it himself.
Still, back at the collecting ring, I suddenly found myself indulging in the kind of fantasy where I was the German rider's supportive - and of course slightly glamorous - girlfriend who went with him to shows or spent my days schooling his nice horses. But I decided it was okay, after all I've not exactly had an exciting year when it comes down to the opposite sex, so I should be allowed slipping up for once.
So when I bumped into some old friends who were all up for a night of mayhem at the riders' pub later on I quickly ditched my initial plan of going home after the last class. And the first person I spotted as my eyes did a search of the room was the smiling blonde German.
I have only ever really chattet up one guy in my life, which was quite successful - for a while anyway, so I decided this was not the time to mess with my statistics. Besides being in that particular pub in a sober state was a challenge in itself. So I stuck to glancing in his direction every now and again noticed him doing the same thing back. Then just before midnight he finished his drink and left.
In other words my hunch was right - this was a serious guy. More interested in tomorrow's classes, and the girlfriend he turned out to have at home, than potential Norwegian groupies. He must be about the only one out of that lot...
And then it turns out - he runs his own company too. The man has a flipping business degree. Yes, I did google him - and I feel no shame, that's what google is for!
But luckily for me the wisdom of old age has now taught me that there is one backside to perfect things, they are not for real - and certainly not for me. Besides as he brushed passed me on his way to walk the course the next day all I could think was that he smelt just like someone I used to know. Some far from perfect guy that for some unknown reason beat all those horsey guys hands down any day.
So the hunt continues for another one like that.
Update: Only a few months later the perfect guy got in real trouble for allegedly using rather dodgy training methods. Not so perfect after all maybe...
Why do all horsey girls secretly dream of shacking up with a professional rider?
If you'd asked me to make a list of what qualities I look for in a man it would go something like this: 1) Trustworthy 2) Educated 3) GSOH - or my kind of humour. (Same thing really...)
And I think it is safe to say that most professional riders I know of would be nowhere near fulfilling the first two - and the ones that are excruciatingly funny are gay anyway. So in other words my intellect tells me I should not be looking for a rider. And I don't. I really don't expect to find my man anywhere near these kinds of arenas. But then there was this one guy the other weekend...
I first noticed him because he was tall, rather good looking and stood a bit too close to me in the warm up arena. Not good looking in a stunner kind of way, but he had good eyes. And I'm all about the eyes. I think it is because most of the time the easiest way to tell whether you can trust a guy is the look he has in his eyes - or so my theory goes anyway.
So there I was eyeing up a guy at a horse show because he had special eyes. And then when he got out of my personal space and onto his horse he was a bloody good rider too. I suppose you'd expect as much of someone competing at that level, but it is not always the case. So I sat there and watched him warm up discovering that he was German, very tidy over a fence and probably in his early thirties. Perfect.
My first horsey crush was on a guy whose artist name was Lorenzo. Yes, I know, that is not the kind of thing you want to be admitting to, but in my defence I was about twelve and he did this thing where he stood on two horses and jumped fences. It was pretty damn cool, and besides he was drop dead gorgeous in that French kind of way. So after my dad arranged for me to meet him, shake his hand and get his autograph after the show he was my man.
But fortunately I've come a long way since then, and I certainly don't hold a fascination for men with artist names any more. Besides working with horses for years teaches you a few things. Like that there aren't a lot of guys like that around, and that the ones that have that impressive wow-factor have an equally impressive number of girls chasing after them. So you learn to ignore it and in my case start looking for a guy who'll at least tolerate the horsey lifestyle even if he doesn't actively engage in it himself.
Still, back at the collecting ring, I suddenly found myself indulging in the kind of fantasy where I was the German rider's supportive - and of course slightly glamorous - girlfriend who went with him to shows or spent my days schooling his nice horses. But I decided it was okay, after all I've not exactly had an exciting year when it comes down to the opposite sex, so I should be allowed slipping up for once.
So when I bumped into some old friends who were all up for a night of mayhem at the riders' pub later on I quickly ditched my initial plan of going home after the last class. And the first person I spotted as my eyes did a search of the room was the smiling blonde German.
I have only ever really chattet up one guy in my life, which was quite successful - for a while anyway, so I decided this was not the time to mess with my statistics. Besides being in that particular pub in a sober state was a challenge in itself. So I stuck to glancing in his direction every now and again noticed him doing the same thing back. Then just before midnight he finished his drink and left.
In other words my hunch was right - this was a serious guy. More interested in tomorrow's classes, and the girlfriend he turned out to have at home, than potential Norwegian groupies. He must be about the only one out of that lot...
And then it turns out - he runs his own company too. The man has a flipping business degree. Yes, I did google him - and I feel no shame, that's what google is for!
But luckily for me the wisdom of old age has now taught me that there is one backside to perfect things, they are not for real - and certainly not for me. Besides as he brushed passed me on his way to walk the course the next day all I could think was that he smelt just like someone I used to know. Some far from perfect guy that for some unknown reason beat all those horsey guys hands down any day.
So the hunt continues for another one like that.
Update: Only a few months later the perfect guy got in real trouble for allegedly using rather dodgy training methods. Not so perfect after all maybe...
Friday, 24 July 2009
You've Been Chartered
September 2008
If you don't already catch on when the middle aged couple next to you have a beer, a bottle of wine and cognac (!) with their breakfast at 06.17, you will definitely know you are on a charter plane when the stewardess walks down the aisle not saying "Coffee, Tea? Coffee, Tea?" but "Sun Block, Whisky? Sun Block, Whisky?"
That was when I decided to inflate the incredibly tacky looking pillow thing and just go to sleep - earplugs and all.
If you don't already catch on when the middle aged couple next to you have a beer, a bottle of wine and cognac (!) with their breakfast at 06.17, you will definitely know you are on a charter plane when the stewardess walks down the aisle not saying "Coffee, Tea? Coffee, Tea?" but "Sun Block, Whisky? Sun Block, Whisky?"
That was when I decided to inflate the incredibly tacky looking pillow thing and just go to sleep - earplugs and all.
Wednesday, 22 July 2009
I Couldn't Agree More
July 2008
Let me introduce you to my new favorite columnist. She might be a bit over the top at times, but she is also extremely funny. I particularly liked this bit of her latest comment:
"... if you are skinny and have big berthas you should not be wittering on about M&S bra prices, but on your knees thanking God that you are blessed. Blessed, do you hear?"
So if you are annoyed by how fat people are not charged more for their clothes too, or just happen to have small breasts, you really should read the whole piece.
Let me introduce you to my new favorite columnist. She might be a bit over the top at times, but she is also extremely funny. I particularly liked this bit of her latest comment:
"... if you are skinny and have big berthas you should not be wittering on about M&S bra prices, but on your knees thanking God that you are blessed. Blessed, do you hear?"
So if you are annoyed by how fat people are not charged more for their clothes too, or just happen to have small breasts, you really should read the whole piece.
Reruns
The summer is of course the time for reruns on most TV channels. TV2 over here has been showing a very welcomed repetition of a TV-series I used to absolutely love back in the days when I was very innocent and hopeful and expecting life to hand me a man just like Victor's partner in Pacific Blue.
Unfortunately I can't really remember his name, because I haven't had time to actually watch it this year and the only reason I remember Victor's is that he tragically died in a very dramatic shooting accident on the pier in Santa Monica. Needless to say my sister and I both cried - a lot.
But this summer has been all about work and more work, and there has been no time for the good looking bicycle cops in their very tight shorts. Another result of this is that there hasn't been much time for the blog either. I really wish I had time to come up with lots of groundbreaking new stuff - I have some ideas that are not half bad. But right now I just never seem to find time to sit down and produce anything other than the totally necessary stuff.
So, I've decided to do something a bit different to keep up the frequency. I'm not going to resort to reruns though, as sadly I don't think anything I have written on here is memorable enough to deserve a second posting. But what I do have is a multitude of unpublished blogposts that for various reasons have not made it onto the world wide web. Some because they were rubbish, some because I considered them a bit too offensive or they were just far too personal. Others because I didn't have time or just forgot about them alltogether.
But after spending a quiet moment going through some of my old stuff today I have decided to give some of them a second chance to avoid the blog going completely cold. And then it is up to whoever reads it to decide whether it is offensive, too personal or just plain rubbish.
I think I'll start with a funny link that I just never got around to posting.
But this summer has been all about work and more work, and there has been no time for the good looking bicycle cops in their very tight shorts. Another result of this is that there hasn't been much time for the blog either. I really wish I had time to come up with lots of groundbreaking new stuff - I have some ideas that are not half bad. But right now I just never seem to find time to sit down and produce anything other than the totally necessary stuff.
So, I've decided to do something a bit different to keep up the frequency. I'm not going to resort to reruns though, as sadly I don't think anything I have written on here is memorable enough to deserve a second posting. But what I do have is a multitude of unpublished blogposts that for various reasons have not made it onto the world wide web. Some because they were rubbish, some because I considered them a bit too offensive or they were just far too personal. Others because I didn't have time or just forgot about them alltogether.
But after spending a quiet moment going through some of my old stuff today I have decided to give some of them a second chance to avoid the blog going completely cold. And then it is up to whoever reads it to decide whether it is offensive, too personal or just plain rubbish.
I think I'll start with a funny link that I just never got around to posting.
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
No Hope in Hell
It was somewhat reassuring to read that I am not the only person out there about to give up...
Surely Not...
The Times has made a list of 101 uses for a woman. I'm not sure I can relate to all of them, for a start I am most likely not capable of salvaging the dinner you’ve totally messed up.
But I think I can be fairly useful for the following two:
28. Saving Hugh Grant and Colin Firth from being unemployed.
89. Covering beds in enough pillows to suffocate an entire old people’s home.
You may also want to check out their list of 101 uses for a man.
But I think I can be fairly useful for the following two:
28. Saving Hugh Grant and Colin Firth from being unemployed.
89. Covering beds in enough pillows to suffocate an entire old people’s home.
You may also want to check out their list of 101 uses for a man.
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