No one is making you read this

Mail me!

2006-08-15T15:22:00.000+02:00

Hello you guys.

I am kinda thinking about setting up a new blog. Like a brand new one? Fresh sheet?

That I am not kinda drained about and unable to update? One that I will actually WRITE on and post lots of pictures and not naked pictures because I don't want to charge you to see it but I could use the extra money but I am just too nice you know.

AAAANYWAYS. There are people I do not want to navigate to this new blog. SO. If you want the new URL and you are not on my msn list or see me in the daily walkabout so that I can write the URL on your hand in lipgloss (you would think someone who loves to write all the time carries a pen but NO. Only lipgloss which by the way I do not use). I was having a long sentance going on here but my point! Want the new URL? When I set it up? Which I will tell you is gonna be later today but in reality? Maybe longer. Mail me! And seeing as chech is not answering me how to make a link to mail me I will just write out my mail adress. kirsti85@gmail.com .

There we go. Ok? Now let's get mailin!

Happy Birthday to MEEEE

2006-07-27T00:25:00.000+02:00

Happy Birthday to US!!

Happy birthday me and ATOM!!!

*drumrolls!*

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO US!!!

Good twin I think this year will be the best one this far for both of us. Let's drink to that. You can drink apple juice! SMIRINOF OVER HERE!

YEY I AM GETTING OLD!

I stole this meme myself

2006-07-23T15:53:00.000+02:00

My good friend and colleague Christine from www.whyIhatemyhusband.com whom I have never exchanged a single word with has ordered us all to answer these questions.

And seeing as how I have nothing else to post. Seriously. Braindead. Here's something:

1. If you had to set your own work schedule; 8 hours per day; 5 days per week. Which days and hours would you choose?

11-7 Sunday to Thursday. I am not big on mornings and I am too productive late at night to waste it on work.

2. What Reality Show would you be on and why? (stolen from J. http://ramblingsofamadpiggie.blogspot.com/)

I think I would be good on Big Brother. Mostly because that is the only reality show I can think of right now

3. What is the last book you read?

It was a Norwegian book. Last English one was Janet Evanovich's Twelve something

4. There are many songs that bring us back to a certain memory. What song(s) do you HATE to hear for that very reason?

None. I mostly deal with bad memories and only remember the songs that remind me of the good ones. Ok, done with the deep and meaningful lies, I cannot STAND Uptown girl with Westlife. They should not have done the cover ANYWAYS so it was only appropriate that they should play that song just then.

5. If you could go back in time to be any place in world history, what time would you choose and what country/place?

I would go to rural Norway just as the vikings started finding new land. I think it would be interesting to just be a bystander. Well away from the raping and pillaging.

6. Do you know more than one language? Which one(s).

Well there's Norwegian and English and a little Spanish and not enough German.

7. What is your favorite blog? Please link it. One only.

www.missdoxie.com if she could learn to update it would be even betterer.

8. What is your favorite web site?

No idea. Can I say google? I will say google. Hah!

9. Your house is on fire, the people and pets you love are safe and you can grab one other "thing", what are you taking?

iPod! Laptop! Queen CD's! Digital Camera! I'd end up getting trapped in the burning house scurrying around for my material things that contain all my sentimental values.

10. You have $100 to spend in the next hour. How are you spending it? (Saving it or giving it away not permitted.)

Underwear and shoes! And more underwear!

Please send money, vodka and cake WITH UPDATE :D

2006-07-14T20:09:00.000+02:00

I'm in for a rough weekend.

but YEY!

And also. HELLO!!

So late. Coffee is a good thing. Did I spell anything remotely correctly? Why do co look so weird together? Co co co.

Teeeheehee.

Anyways. HI!

Maybe someday when I am sober and not so much chemically imbalanced I will write stuff that is funny. I am happy you guys!

And of course you remember my birthday? With cake? Yes? For me AND my good twin?

I tried to catch passing cars with a lasso tonight. Then I used someone's computer. I am scared of my penguin.

How are you guys, what's left of you, doing?

Please leave a comment.

2006-06-25T01:10:00.000+02:00

You guys. I have again bought a new gadget. Yes! This time it has also brought me into the currency century! Yey! So glad to be in the twentyfirst! But I miss my saggy jeans. And them hunky guys in Saved by the Bell! I remember I thought Zack was soooo gudlukkin! And so old! I was like 5 and thought he was the coolest and oldest guy I would ever see. Just so happens I recently saw a rerun and was all hooked up to seeing Zach the hunky mature manly man again. You guys! He was only like 14! I was disgusted! I was waiting for a blonde Bruce Willis to appear in front of my eyes. Anyways.

I have moved on from Saved by the Bell and saggy jeans. (But I will not throw them out. Retro you guys.) Do you not want to know what has kicked me into this century? Oooh I bet! Here you go!!

Wireless phones! I feel so modern! I can walk around and talk! And not one but THREE! A set of three! Of course we only needed one, because it is so portable and wireless and everything. But hey, 3 is better than one, right?!

Also, we will not talk about how I named my phones after the two cats we just adopted from the local shelter and are spoiling rotten. I don't think we will mention how the first thing I added to the phonebook was the local pizza place either. But. We need to talk a little about this answerphone.

Because it came with an answerphone. And although I have had automatic answering services before and voicemail on my cellphone and all that jazz it is just so... amazing to have the actual machine here in the room!! Now I can just press the play button to hear my messages! Which is quite a small revolution because before. Well I did never learn the number to call. So messages was kind of lost on me. When I lived by myself I would occationally look up the number and hesitantly call it only to hear a mecanic voice tell me that I have "twentyFOUR new MESSages." All from Paul threatening to call in the National Guard if I did not return his calls soon.

When me and Paul moved in Paul was responsible for listening to messages because only he knew the number. Then occationally one was for me and then he would shout at me because I needed written instructions to be able to listen to it. It's confusing! He said I press 8 to skip to the next message but in fact the 8 deleted the message. Bah humbug!
So! Now! Real Machine! All I have to do is press play. And skip if I want to skip. No digits to falsely symbolize skipping. The skip is there in his own, true button. Yey! Skipping. And the delete is a big, red cross. I know what I am doing when I delete these babies!

And deleting they need. A lot. Because this answering machine? It only receives bullshit. I mean, it has a display that blink-blinks telling me how many messages I have. And it's so uplifting. Coming home to the blinks-blink. But.. well, see for yourselves. I present:

Full list of everything I have so far heard from my answering machine:

1. Around 100 hours of people breathing. Does the sentence "This is an answering machine. Please leave a message BEEP" mean NOTHING? Why do people not hang up the phone? Why would people stay on the line to breathe into my answering machine? In fact I will call Paul and ask NOW. Because he is perpetrator number ONE. Yes dear, wonder how your mobile phone bill got so high!

2. At least 20 messages with people going "hmm. Hello? Hello? Did you pick it up? Kirsti? Helloooo? Why did it stop ringing? What was that you said about machine? Can you hear me now? Did you hang up on me? Was it something I said?!"

3. Many, MANY more recordings very similar to #2 except it is two people talking together, in depth, about why in the world it would stop ringing after saying "something about machine". Of course they DO NOT HANG UP. What is the matter? Do people not hang up anymore? No matter, I can SKIP now. Or even delete voluntarily.

4. Telemarketers. Leaving messages. What? "Hello this is Tom Johnson from Takadamoneyandrun Inc. Yes. Hi. This is a message for Chri... Kurr.. Kursten. I was wanting to sell you this shitty encyclopedia. If you are interested could you please call back this number? 1-800 SCAMMED. Thank you."

5. Locksmiths. Alot of them. I was locked out of my house. At 2pm on a Tuesday. Really locked out. The lock on the back door wouldn't turn and the chain was on the front door. And also I had just been to Sainsbury and picked up ice cream. Loved it. Anyways. Locksmiths at 2pm on a weekday? Shouldn't be a problem. And I started calling around. Sure. Got through. They asked me what type of door. Wood. Type of lock? Yale. Am I in the house? No, locked out. Need help. Other door? Got the chain on. Need help. And after all that questioning which probably cost me a week's salary they all said "oh yeah, I know exactly what the problem is. Real easy to fix. Yupp. "Good" I said. "Come fix it then". No. No. They were all busy. But they all had numbers for someone else. And they all took my landline number down to call me if anything came free so they could come anyways. Haha. landline. I was LOCKED OUT! This happened about 30 times. The dialed numbers register on my cellphone looks like a war zone. In the end I was so mad and frustrated by some miracle and a twig I managed to get the damned chain of the door. In time to save the ice cream.

But ever since Locksmiths have called me. Some of them up until ONE WEEK, that is SEVEN DAYS later, to ask me if I still need assistance. Oh man. To be a locksmith. I assume that since they get the machine they must think I am still unable to get in?

5. I got 8, eight, messages rambling about Orlando Bloom. From someone who does not much care about him. No. From Norway too. International call. My answering machine can record a maximum of 6 minutes per message. And a maximum of 60 messages. Unfortunately. This friend, on a high of caffeine and no sleep, called me and ranted about Bloom for FORTY MINUTES. And she does not even like the guy.

See it all started (this is the time when you get tea.) when she read the post wherein I mentioned that I once promised the good people at my High School that marrying Bloom was in my future plans. Part of the story I didn't tell you is that some of my friends' parents didn't know that Orlando Bloom was in fact BigShotOfTheTimeAndAlittleBitNowThanksToThatPirateMovie. So, they all, of course, thought that this Bloom here was my little boyfriend. In Norway. That I had missed so much while I was away. So, for the longest time I kept getting nice little emails from Iowa after I had gone back to Norway. "How are you and Orlando?", "Was Orlando glad to see you again?", "Are you and Orlando finding back together after you have gone away?" and my personal favorite "has this here 'Lando guy gave ya a ring yet?". Mistaken identity AND Iowa hick language. I love it!
Anyways it was kind of cute. Parents writing emails to the nice foreign girl who is back in her country now, while their newly-college kids banged their heads in the table with frustration. Yet they never said anything. So anyways that backfired and I will NEVER type ANYTHING assuming that no one will print it ever again.

Lesson learned and now it's the time to look back and laugh. Except I laughed pretty much all the time. From the senior statement introducing me as "That crazy Norwegian" to the last email suggesting that I "never talk about Orlando anymore. Are you sure everything is ok?". Of COURSE I never mention him. That would be going from "lighthearted joke" to "outright lying". Google, Woman! Google! Anyhow. Somehow on msn me and a friend got talking about this. And we were bored. And then somehow Wikipedia got mixed into it and THERE! It stood! That! he has given up on caffeine and sugar!! How does that happen? That can not be healthy! How can he give up the pure essences of LIFE?! That is one good sex life right there. Anyone. Of you! Can you imagine getting out of bed before 10am without the promise of coffee? And me! The biggest sleeper of them all. Caffeine is the reason I get up in the afternoon. Also. No cookies. Hopefully, this is rumors.

Now. With the wildest of your imagination. Imagine me (with a copious amount of food allergies and vegetarian tendencies (all crushed when within 100 feet of a Burger King. Whooper! YEY!)) in a functioning relationship with "This here 'Lando guy"(Insane. Pure insane. In danger of being locked up for being British and not drinking tea.)

We would not eat! There is NOTHING. No meat. No fish. No seafood. No cookies. (I get convolutions just thinking about it). NO COFFEE. No soda. Maybe eggs. No alcohol. No Burger King Whooper meals! We are left with: A selection of vegetables that do not make me break out into hives. (Not attractive!). Also, Water. (Here you go dear. Celery and iced water. Ain't life grand?! Don't fill up now we have steamed carrots for dessert!)

How does this relate to my answering machine? I do not know. But after having rambled on about this on msn before deciding to go to bed I received the next day a 40 minute lecture about all the fun fun trivia and rumors and selective bio on Orlando Bloom. Nicely divided into 8 6 minute recordings. After each she got disconnected and called back up in order to keep talking. Somewhere in the 4th message apparently it fit in nicely to call me a "drama school drop out" and mention that I "never really reached the high notes" and also "sucked at miming"... (You guys, it's all true) I don't know what she was on but I think it was severely far past sugar and caffeine.

Hello, sweet Paul. This is what I listen to while you're at work. You think you get the weirdos on the phone, eh?

Next time she logs on we will talk about the processes of cognitive psychology. That way I can put the machine underneath my pillow and play it in my sleep before exams. And then maybe I don't have to press delete so much.

100 Things About Me You Never Knew (well maybe some of you)

2006-05-20T01:20:00.000+02:00

You knew it was coming. Honestly. Every blogger with some kind of respect for themselves has one of these lists. So enjoy!

1. I complain when it's too hot.

2. I have had the same email adress (hotmail) since I was 12.

3. I always claimed wholeheartedly that I hated kids and would never have anything to do with them. Now I am aiming for a job in juvenile correction.

4. I always hated P.E. with a passion. During my last week of secondary school when I had my last P.E. class I made cake for everyone and called it the Nelson Mandela cake.

5. From I was four to I was six years old I wore glasses. I hated them with a passion. Now I have had to start wearing glasses again for lectures for the opposite problem (stupid eyes overcompansating) and I think I look smashing in them.

6. The first boy I kissed looked horrible and I claim no responsibility.

7. The same boy 24 hours later declared himself my boyfriend.

8. He then drove me home (he had nearly litterally dragged me off the bus) and I had him put me of 4 blocks away from my house so he wouldn't see where I live.

9. He got enrolled into the army 4 months later. (In the Norwegian ARMY. Service. Not into war. Basically, the fat ugly kid had to go to bootcamp.) I am still laughing at this.

10. I used to play handball.

11. I was the goal-keeper.

12. I sucked.

13. I have also played soccer and basketball.

14. I am a very good defender in almost any sport. Especially when I am PMS'ing.

15. Now the only sport I perform in is swimming but even that has been given a rest.

16. I am a highly acclaimed stage actress.

17. No, really. They fought for me.

18. I took this to drama school, lost all my motivation, will and self-esteem, having teachers who were only interested in weird, interprative dance and drama crap. I quit after a year.

19. While still studying drama I discovered I was really good in advanced math and Spanish.

20. I transferred over to studies where I could do mainly math, English and Spanish and regained all lost self esteem.

21. After leaving the drama-freaks I spent a year in the good ol' USA doing... DRAMA and SPEECH. And my mad improv skillz even got me to the state championship. Where I did shit but we don't have to mention that.

22. After it all I still think I am pretty good at acting.

23. While in USA all the seniors, including me, had to fill in a "get to know the class of 2003" questionaire with all kinds of facts about ourselves. I knew that being a foreign exchange student they would not print mine and filled it out with all kinds of jokes and bullshit.

24. They printed it.

25. I was introduced as "That crazy Norwegian".

26. Amongst the things I had written was that my favourite quote was "It's GRRREAT!!!" and that my future plans were "get rich, win an Oscar and marry Orlando Bloom".

27. Orlando Bloom isn't really in my future plans. He was just the hot guy at the time.

28. ...although...

29. I am VERY much in love with my fiance. Honest.

30. I went to see Troy. After half an hour I had seen Brad Pitt naked and I was STILL bored. I left.

31. I have to turn the sound off the TV when the stupid sentimental scenes with the lame music comes on. I honestly can't watch it. It physically hurts.

32. I have shaken (shook?) hands with all three members of Destiny's Child.

33. I also half way fell in love with their body guard.

34. When I was younger I had a thing for fat, black men. This was not helped by me watching Kenan and Kel every day.

35. When I am really depressed I can always comfort myself by shoving my mouth ful of hot, salt popcorn and washing it down with Sprite. Popcorn has anti-depressants, I am sure of it.

36. On some weird, higher psychological level I have managed to teach myself that cheese and diet pepsi relieves stress headaches. For me that works better than painkillers. To be taken together while lying down.

37. I am as attached to my cat Whisky as other people would to a best friend or a sister.

38. I am addicted to solitaire on the computer. All kinds.

39. ...also minesweeper.

40. After playing all the Silent Hill games I have a weird, icky feeling every time I hear sirens. Or something that sounds like those weird sirens. Freaky games.

41. I grew addicted to the Rachet and Clank games and have finished all of them. And will most likely do it again.

42. I have never seen one James Bond film my entire life.

43. ...and only one of the Star Wars.

44. Neither of the Godfather triology.

45. My first born daughter will be called Nora. No matter what. Even if she looks like an Isabella or an Olga. It will be Nora.

46. I am always excided to see if there is any post but I never get anything but bills.

47. I have suffered from insomnia for as long as I can remember.

48. It's only getting worse.

49. I am named after two of my great grandmothers, both named Christina.

50. My last name is impossible to remember for anyone who is not me or related to me.

51. I will never, ever let my sister forget that she was a fanatic New Kids On The Block fan in her teens.

52. I know all the NKOTB songs off by heart. Because I might have stolen all my sister's albums and listened to them over and over when I was in MY teens, 9 years after her.

53. My favourite NKOTB song is "Didn't I (blow your mind)".

54. My favourite band now is Queen.

55. I know for a sheer fact if I ever met Brian May I would lose my mind and have to be admitted. I am a fan big time.

56. I always want to change my hair color. When it's blonde I want it darker than the night. When it's colored I want it back to the normal color.

57. My natural color is very, very blonde.

58. 58 is my favourite number. It kind of follows me everywhere.

59. I love playing card and board games. Especially trivia games.

60. I am really wanting to go to San Fransisco.

61. I wish I was better at keeping in touch with old friends.

62. I have a myspace profile.

63. I never told anyone about it.

64. I won't tell you either.

65. I won't function properly unless I have at least 1 hot meal per day.

66. I am notorious for sleeping in untill extreme times. I concider it my priveliege.

67. I havent drunk in so long, two days ago just one bottle of 15 proof champagne gave me a migrane. Oh the shame.

68. I am not scared of any insects or spiders.

69. I am terrfied of snakes, even fake ones and the ones on TV.

70. I think the Rolling Stones are the best thing that ever happened to rock'n roll.

71. I can't stand Woody Allen films.

72. I can live off a diet consisting of only assorted pasta dished. And I pretty much do. I have had the same favourite meal since I was just about born: Spaghetti Bolognese.

73. I LOVE the smell of freshly ground coffee. Second best: A newly opened bag of coffee. When I open a new one I always carry it around the house for everyone to smell.

74. Whenever I am at a coffee house I always ask for whatever kind of coffee they serve in a glass. Anything tastes much better from a glass than from a cup.

75. I think coca cola from glass bottles is ten times better than from cans or plastic bottles.

76. Like my mother, I like or dislike beer very much depending on the glass it is served in. Pint glasses are ok. Them huge American pub-mugs are not. Then I have to ask for a red-wine glass and pour it over.

77. I have alot of little quirks.

78. Iced tea makes me extremely hyper.

79. I can't eat before 2 hours after I woke up. If I do it only comes back up. Even so I am more awake and alert than most people are in the mornings. Also: Annoyingly happy.

80. I can't drink milk, it makes me violently ill. However, most other dairy products or products with milk in it is ok.

81. I hate beans, but I love the tomato sauce they come with. I get alot of odd looks of waiters when I order chips and beans and leave behind all the beans chemically cleaned of all sauce.

82. I used to own and moderate a lesbian chat channel on the internet.

83. This made my mother convinced I was a lesbian and gave me a long talk about how it is "ok to be different"

84. I always mix up British money with American and think the 10p coin is a quarter.

85. I used to collect quarters with states on them. But now no one is willing to send me quaters anymore. I guess with the American economy right now I shouldnt expect it.

86. I still concider it one of my best achievements to manage to get my driver's license.

87. I haven't touched the steering wheel of a car since I passed the test.

88. I concider some of my online friends just as good friends as my "real life" ones. Some of the online ones are proving way more lojal anyways.

89. I used to date a Texan. I find this funny.

90. I really miss easy-mac from the states. Could SOMEONE please send me some? I remember it was REALLY tasty!

91. I must be the only person in Britain to take no milk and only one half sugar in my tea.

92. I continously mix up the words garbage and garlic.

93. Some people I have lost contact with I really, really miss.

94. I would love to write my own column once, in just a small town newspaper.

95. When the winter olympics is on I sit up the entire night to watch the curling. All the matches. Between every single country.

96. I actually understand the rules of curling.

97. I have no idea about the rules of American football.

98. I have no interest of ever trying to learn them. I made my choise.

99. I really suprised myself when I realised that I really love the study I chose and I think I made the right choise. I normally wobble around abit before I settle.

100. I will not spellcheck this list before I post it. Nor re-read it. So shh.

Ok Now I am back! I promise! With no P!

2006-05-07T22:02:00.000+02:00

..and this time it's like.. for real. Yey!

News!

1. Paul has bought a new computer. Well.. new like a rusty, old, used, pick up-truck that you bought from Honest Al's Spankin Carz is NEW. You know. RELATIVELY new. A RELATIVELY new computer which happened to not work properly. At all. And then he took it back to Honest Al and asked to get it fixed so it could at least function like a RELATIVELY new computer should. Which Honest Al agreed to. Because Honest Al is a nice guy. Really. Who just sometimes sells computers who do not work. Anyways, so much has been fixed on this damn computer that the only thing that has not been changed is the shell. And the shell was the NEW part on the relatively NEW computer. So now! NEW COMPUTER!! With one minor fault. The P key? That you press to get the letter P? Like in Paul and comPuter and Post..? It does not so much work. No. Not at all. Until you PPPPPPPPPPress it with ALL YOUR MIGHT. And then? Then you get fifty Ps. which is just wasting hard-to-get letters. Because Honest Al can change an ENTIRE hard drive but a new keyboard is just too much.

2. We had the pleasure of needing a doctor in the middle of the night on a Friday night. Not serious enough to be an emergency but too bad to wait a week to get an appointment with the doctor. At 2am on the weekend... do you know who you can call? Do you know who is just DYING to help you with the "I THINK it might be serious but it might also not be and anyways it is very painful please help me" medical problem you suffer from on a weekend night? You know? Who? NO ONE! No one does. No. It is in the lap of the gods. Entirely. In the end we got a sleepy doctor on the line (we only waited 3 hours for the call-back) who could tell us that he "couldn't look at it over the phone". Thank you for that, doc. Would you like us to fax over a picture? Or maybe we can get an emergency appointment. Thank you.

3. Exam time. And hayfever time. Crashing. Oh joy. Strong enough allergy meds = very sleepy, non-focused Kirsti. Any tips?

4. This new guy? Left a comment on the last post? His screenname started with a d. And I emailed him but he didn't email be back. (*cough*bastardasshole*cough*) So then I checked his blog so that I could gratefully NOT comment him back... and he does... wait for it... HOME BREWING! So everyone, we have a new friend!!! Please warmly welcome d-something... anyone who might still read this. Doesn't matter. D-man is my bestest friend!

5. Some of my professors need to get out more often. Seriously. Geeks. NO ONE should know that much about the human brain. NO ONE!! It is too complex for us to fully understand so we should just LEAVE it and hope it works out alright. And certainly not try to shove the UNPHANTOMABLE amount of Latin names and terminology onto innocent students such as me. Because my brain? COMLETELY overload. And I can't even remember the term for it.

6. I hate biological psychology. I know it's RELEVANT. And IMORTANT for a complete understanding of human behavior which I happen to have chosen as my field of study but OH MY GOD! So many words! I did not sign up for this. And I am trying to think of one SINGLE term that I can use in a single sentence to make a joke. Like "all the information makes my Hyphotermamal Glutonous shrink to the size of a Nalandghtuis Hazelious" so that it would seem like I have at least learned something but NO! NOTHING! I JUST MADE THAT UP! I should have listened to my senses and became a carpenter.

7. Me and my better half have ordered a trip to Tunisia. YEY! We get to be tourists for an entire two weeks. And Paul is all excited because the hotel has a complimentary horse carriage to the beach and maybe sometime before we leave I will remind him that I am hyper allergic to horses so we are going to have to just walk to the beach like normal, lower class people do. But why burst his bubble now. YEY HORSE CARRIAGE! And also there is a pool and breakfast buffet. And a hair dryer in every room. Luxury! We are however not leaving until March 2007, so I have almost a year to think of a valid extenuating circumstance that I could tell the university to explain why I will be gone for two weeks. In the middle of term. And come back with a fabulous tan. Maybe my sister will get married. Again. In Africa. Maybe so. Shhh!
Anyways it is not until March so maybe I will post at least once before we leave. If there is time.

8. Congratulations Atom! YEY! That is the kind of things that good twins deserve! What are we wanting for our birthdays?

9. Me and Paul are very happy and healthy (thank you midnight-sleepy-phone-doctor!) together and the house needs a new bath which we are getting which won't match at all to the rest of the bathroom but I am not paying so I sure don't care. If anyone wants to see pictures from the house or our recent trip to Norway then I can email you a welcome to our brand spanking new snapfish account.

10. OH! And also we just had our 6-month-of-engagement-without-killing-each-other-just-almost-sometimes-anniversary! Send presents! Vodka. And Rum. And Home Brew!! And a keyboard with a stinking P!

Bets now up!

2006-03-13T22:50:00.000+01:00

Hello! I might start writing again. Are anyone even still checking this page?

Well reguardless I might start again, then again maybe I won't.

Please place your bets!

...and so I am boring.

2006-01-04T02:54:00.000+01:00

It doesn't really matter but.. I remember I used to be fun. But seeing as how I am currently at war with France and with Paul and I am all happy and WHERE IS THE FUN IN THAT?!

And the fact that my favourite song at the moment is "Love is in the air" and that I spent new years eve drinking water. Yes. Pure, Norwegian ice-water. Straight from the mountains. Whatever happened to my drunken stupors? Folks, it is simply tragic. To do more damage, my drunken friend blacked out from all the alcohol and all I did was sigh and pull a blanket over her. No new tatoos with permanent ink, not even alittle "hand in warm water". Nothing. I could have gotten fun fun pictures to show you yet I HAD to be the responsible adult.

How boring isn't that?

I mean.. I could tell you about how the automatic doors open slower in Norway than in England so I keep walking into semi-opened doors-

I could tell you mum is refurnishing her living room and is buying shitloads of flatpacked furniture and how I am absolutely drooling over getting to put them up and tell you all a little known fact about me, that I am quite the carpenter, that I studied it and was going to go to one of them tech schools and learn the trade and be a carpenter and could you imagine my untamed self given a hammer and a nail gun and the guy next to me just got some saw dust on my pretty shoes?

And how I was going to bake SO MUCH for christmas and ended up with just buying some ready-made marzipan that I was very nearly too lazy to cut into pieces and dip into melted chocolate. And how not even they are getting eaten.

Or I could tell you how my very lovely auntie got me, Sister and Mother a mutual present; one bottle of Baileys. Which is so convenient, seeing as how none of us live together, and one of us lives in England. Thank you for that Baileys. I will enjoy thinking about it from England, and Sister will now have to climb up the banks and hills to see Mother should she ever feel like some Bailey's. But yeah. One huge bottle is so much smarter than 3 small ones, auntie. You go you.

I could even talk about how I was seated at the kiddie table at the family dinner and refused beer with my food because the guy serving drinks had

What I shouldn't tell you is that on top of my wish-list this year was household articles. HOUSE. HOLD. ARTICLES. And my most valued christmas presents were towels. Them some nice towels tho. Or how my friends went out to the bar where I used to keep getting accidentally alot drunker than I intended too but I turned them down because I needed to save money. That is unheard of! There is ALWAYS money for beer and Smirinoff vodka!!

And you will NEVER twist out of me that I haven't had alcohol in so long that on christmas eve I lost all sense of balance after ONE rum and coke. ONE! And then I walked in zig zags over to Mia to exchange presents. And walked into the semi-opened door to her apartment house. Nice. Lovely.

Chench, you were right.

Soon I will be posting pictures of Paul dressed up as a raindeer captured "Soooo swwwweeeetttt LOL!!!" and quotes about what Christmas is REALLY all about. Yes, for me, this christmas has been all about presents. I haven't seen my Paul in THREE WEEKS and plus we are living in a materian world and sexual frustration has turned me into a material girl. And also we needed household things. We have so many towels. If you ever show up at our doorstep soaking wet HAVE NO FEAR. Just choose size and color, we have the towel to best accomodate you! Also we have tinned food but no box opener to open it with. Because we don't think. Either of us. But you can chew on our kitchen counter if you'd like. Or run up and down the stairs really fast!

Happy birthday, Jesus and I hope 2006 makes you all a non-boring kind of happy!

Let's Lynch The French

2005-11-30T16:08:00.000+01:00

...and this time I mean it. From the bottom of my heart. Let us clog up that Euro-tunnel from this blissful country and to France. Let's barricade the French borders. Let's make SURE they can't get away. And then... then we lynch the French. Reid. I remember you offered me some "favours" a while ago.. Something about "shot twice before they hit the ground". Go for it. I expect your services to be free. Because they're French and you ALL know you wanna do it.

I might be a little upset.

The French. Bastards. Stupid roommates. After many complaints from me they are still not nice, quiet, subdued French people and so I have filed my application to be freed from my accomodation contract and be let FREE and AWAY and OUT and UNFRENCHIFIED! Everyone, cross your fingers. And kick some French people you know in the nuts. You know, for moral support.

So, folks. If this goes through it means I will be living with my fiance. Yey! Which means that Paul will be exposed to my bitching, whining, bad temper, need for "alone time", meanness, sheer cruelty, sharp nails, violent tendancies, nagging and messiness 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. For the rest of his life. We are both so happy! And also there might be sex and cake. If he behaves himself.

Paul has interviews for jobs and all kinds of fun things this Friday. So if you all, the internet at large, cross your collective fingers and pray that the employment-people aren't some raving lunatics who don't see what an amazing man they have in front of them. And if they are not then they will hire him. I think that is how you get one of them "jobs". I don't know. Never tried this "work" thing. I am more of an eternal student myself. Yes. But I will never tell Paul this. (Honey, I lie. I will get a job and pay back my student loans as soon as I get my degree. And a master's degree. And a Phd. Maybe a couple. Then I will work, I swear. Untill I decide I hate my job and want to get re-educated.)

And also I have gone all homely. And all GROWN UP! People! Hello! I have... hold on to your keyboards.. ordered a bed! Yes! And folks! It's a pretty bed! How grown up aren't I? And I paid a deposit and everything. And before I ordered it I asked the salesman intelligent things to show that I was absolutely not head over heels in love with this bed and would absolutely not buy it no matter what, even if he decided to double the price for the occation. I was full of smart things to ask that smart and grown up people ask when they purchase big ticket items. Such as "Is this a bed? It's very pretty.", "Can I jump in it?", "Can I marry it?", "Can I tie myself to it and never get out of this bed because I AM DEEPLY IN LOVE WITH IT!" and also "I want. Bring me bed." And now all we need is, you know, a HOME to put this bed in. And a positive answer to the application saying I can fuck off from the French hell that I call home. And cutlery.

Today I purchased cutlery. Dinner plates. And side plates. And also bowls. Because sometimes I eat soup. And cups. Because I am homely. Of course Paul has, on several occations, informed me that he is in possession of well over 30 plates and about equally as much of everything else. All in bright yellow. And folks. I do NOT like yellow. Yellow brings out the worst in me. Even worser than usual. The Yellow Man (Ick!) in Sin City pushed me over the edge. After watching Sin City I went from "Yellow bad. Take away please." to "AAAHHH! NOT YELLOW! NOOOOOOO! SWEET DEATH COME SAVE ME FROM THIS YELLOW! LALALALALA HAPPY PLACE HAPpy plaaace lalalaaaa." There will be no yellow around me. Yellow is the light-reflection-visual-preception equivalent of French. Yellow very bad.

So now we have burgundy plates, because I thought that was a great idea. And also burgundy was on sale and the even prettier, blue plates were not and so burgundy was definitely a good idea, to which my loving partner has agreeingly shook his head and rolled his eyes and muttered exasperated things under his breath. But my fiance shan't have to think about trivial things such as cutlery because he has more important things on his mind being as he is quitting his job and moving down here to be with me and I will remain speechless because I really don't deserve anyone like him.

And what better way to say thank you than to buy a bed? And cutlery.

Geography, Spelling And A General Low Level Of Common Sense

2005-11-13T16:17:00.000+01:00

No, no. This isn't a recapture of my days in primary school. In fact I wouldn't go back to that if you paid me. Not even in flashbacks. There is no way. No. If I ever want to be picked on again by people much dumber than me I will just go... well I will just go back to my dorm and spend some time with my flatmates. But enough about that.

My fiance, folks. I love him to bits. I love him like bikes love dirt. I love him like my clothes love to get spots on them when I'm not looking. I love him like Americans love ignorance and voting for the wrong man. Repeatedly. I love him ALOT. And you know, having earned my affection and love and general care and devotion, that he must be an alright guy. Mature. Funny. Caring. Etc etc. But people. He is not the sharpest tool in the shed. Well he might be in some areas that he just.. fail to show in public.

I will not mention his choice to call himself "the other half of the coin" when other, more thought through people would perhaps choose to say "the other SIDE of the coin" because I promised him to not bring this up so that then maybe no one else would notice. And today is not the day to talk about how he will write "evan" instead of "even" or how he can misplace a simple sound-word like "huh" with the quite popular boy's name of "Hugh". Mr. Grant would be spinning in his grave had he not been still alive. But, I will go over these maybe later. And then we can mention how he can't spell "testosterone" so he will just start of with a t, put some random letters in the middle and wrap it all up nicely with the "one" that he is maybe certain should perhaps be at the end of the word. "Tdflkjhsdkjhone" And how he though the word "precedent" was a synonym for "priority" and the fact that he is right now looking up the word synonym, only he won't be able to find it in the dictionary because he thinks the s is between the g and the h in the alphabet. We won't talk about this today. Because these are mistakes that anyone with only half a brain could do.

But y'all. His knowledge about geography can be fit into chapter 1 in the book "What I know about correct pronouciation and use of the English language" by George Bush. I shit you not. Today's list will be examples of Paul's.. minor slipups. Yes.

Example one:

We were on the phone and I think I had mentioned how I would love to go to Asia, and particularly China or Japan, when Paul decided it was time to protest.

Paul: That's just silly. You can't go from Asia to Japan.

Kirsti: And why not?

Paul: Because it's far away!

Kirsti: Asia is far away from Japan?

Paul: ...Yes. Duh.

Kirsti: Hehehehehehehehe

Paul: WHAT?! ASIA IS NOWHERE NEAR JAPAN!

Kirsti: Listen. Japan is the island right outside...

Paul: NO! THAT IS SINGAPORE!

Kirsti: No, no. Japan is a bit further north, it is...

Paul: STUPID WOMAN THAT IS MALAYSIA!

Kirsti: Hehehehehehehe

Paul: WHAT! JAPAN IS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD FROM ASIA!

Kirsti: Heheheheeeeee

Paul: It IIISS!

Kirsti: No, listen, Japan is...

Paul: IT IS AS FAR AWAY FROM ASIA AS YOU CAN GET!

Kirsti: Idiot.

Paul: WHAT?!

Kirsti: ...

Paul:...

Paul: ...I'm thinking of Africa aren't I?

Example two:

I'll just throw you into the middle of the conversation with this one:

Paul: ...And then I'd run away to Alaska.

Kirsti. Ok. And where then, Mister Geography, is Alaska?

Paul: ...far away? Over the ocean? In America? In the States?

Kirsti: It is in the States? What states does it border to then?

Paul: Arizona? Arkansas? Alabama?

Kirsti: So they just clashed all the A-states together? That's clever.

Paul: Yes. Very.

Kirsti: Where might I find Hawaii then?

Paul: Near Los Angeles?

Kirsti: So how would you go about driving from Los Angeles to Hawaii? How long do you think it'd take?

Paul: ...very..? Like 2 hours?

Kirsti: What kind of car would you use? Anything special about the car?

Paul: WHAT?! I want a Ford Mondeo. With little dices in the windows. Why?

Kirsti: Any special features on this car?

Paul: YES! It would have a huge plate with neon lights saying "YOU'RE AN IDIOT!"

Kirsti: No, you are the idiot, you are the one PLANNING TO DRIVE TO AN ISLAND!

Paul: LOS ANGELES IS AN ISLAND?!

Kirsti: HAWAII IS AN ISLAND!

Paul: ...oh.

Kirsti: You could drive to Alaska though. How long do you think that would take from Los Angeles?

Paul: Longer? 4 hours? With a Dodge 4x4?

Kirsti: Anything between you and Alaska that might.. you know, make your journey longer? Make it a bit more difficult?

Paul: Trees? Woods? Bad roads?

Kirsti: Anything... big... between LA and Alaska? Anything obstructing your journey at all?

Paul: ...yes. Mountains.

Kirsti: ...something big...? Like CANADA?

Paul: ...oh.

So, you all asked to get to know him a bit better, here you go. He really is the best man out there people. You may now go back to your lives and covet thy neighbor's (me) wife (Paul).

And as a last note, y'all. He does pout. A lot.

Things I Have Learned In England

2005-11-03T20:22:00.000+01:00

1. I am a meterologist. Meterologologistsktst. One of them weather people. Airheads, that's what I call them. I am one. Yes. I can tell the weather in England. Do you challenge me, you say? I will prove it. Listen here, I will now predict the weather in England at large. Yes. I will. Y'all ready? Here it is: It's gonna rain. Always. Everyday. Non stop. Sometimes there will be wind too. And then it's gonna stop raining just a little while and you say YAY SUN HERE COMES THE SUN FINALLY AND NOW I GET A TAN YEY! And then God says HAHAHA and then IT RAINS AGAIN. This has been the weather, back to you Johnny.

2. You remember me dissing away about the French bastards that I CANNOT STAND AT LARGE? I WAS SO, SO FUCKING RIGHT. Should anyone of you ever feel like voting for me as world dictator, please realize that in doing so you are aiding me in my quest to NUKE THE HELL OUT OF FRANCE. (I think this will win me some votes. VOTE KIRSTI!)

3. Me? I? Kirsti? That's me. Yeah, me? I CANNOT WEAR A FRIGGIN SKIRT. I can't. Skirts are not made for me. No. They were made for people with things such as "grace" and "dignity". Me.. I am more... "Clutz".. "careless"..."Idiot".
So anyways. Paul thought it would be a good idea to take me to this cowboy bar things so I could.. you know.. LOOK at his friends because the music was too loud to do such trivial things as communicate. Well actually Paul thought it was the worst idea he'd ever heard but his friends kinda made him but NEVERTHELESS we will blame it on Paul because THIS IS ALL HIS FAULT. So anyways, we were busy looking at eachother.. well I looked at them and they mostly looked at the HUGE WET SPOT on my boobs because.. I was holding my drink there and MAYBE the glass was wet. But NONE OF THIS WAS MY FAULT. And then there were these chairs that were you know.. tall enough to be a fucking PEST to climb onto but apparently low enough to.. you know... GET YOUR SKIRT CAUGHT AND REVEAL YOURSELF TO THE ROOM IN GENERAL. And judging by my dear fiance(fancy spelling)'s heartily laugh, this is exactly what happened. And this is why I need to figure out a way to fake heart attacks. Or strokes. Anyhow. No more cowboy clubs for me. Not untill I can fake severe diarrhea.

4. When I am in pain.. I laugh. I know. It's abnormal. BUT! Y'ALL! GOOD NEWS! Remember how I whined about not having anyone to playfight and make out with? And now I have Paul AND WE CAN PLAYFIGHT AND MAKE OUT AND IT IS PERFECT! Thing is you know, when I hurt him because.. I get carried away, he sulks and pounts and then I comfort and offer chocolate and if that doesn't work then maybe I have to flash my boobs or something, whatever, anyways, this is what happens when he gets hurt. Now. Me. I laugh. My arm is about to snap and I am in complete stiches. People. This is not good. What if some deranged lunatic tries to cut me in pieces and I CANNOT CALL FOR HELP because me? I AM TOO BUSY LAUGHING. I laugh at pain. I am Arnold. Get out.

5. Cute shoes and wet English asphalt... I guess I don't have to say anything here, do I? Let me say something anyways. 12 TIMES IN ONE FUCKING DAY. YES! With arms full of paper. EVERY GODDAMN TIME. And that is IT. I am buying Scholls. YES I AM! There comes a time in a woman's life when she has to make a choise between pretty shoes or her life and I cho.. Who am I kidding, pretty shoes I could never leave you.

And there is more but y'all. THE LIBRARY IS CLOSING! AAARRRGGHHHH

Pictures.

2005-11-03T16:02:00.000+01:00

Alright. Important thing first. Tadaaaaaa...

Rings. Pretty. I know. The word perfect comes into mind, but I shall not utter it. It brings bad luck.

The bearers of The Rings:

And in the name of self-worshipping. Here is a blurry picture of me. Because I am pretty.

...and the winner is..

2005-10-26T14:23:00.000+02:00

..no one.

Well Sarathena. But she's a crude bitch so I'll be darned if I'm giving any prices to her husky voiced ass. So there. But anyways.

I am engaged!

YEY!

And the wedding will be in 2010. Yes I know it's a long time away but it's such a NICE, EVEN NUMBER. Ok? And I will get a fucking count down timer. Because that is what everyone gets.

And y'all. Not a word to my mother. I want to tell her the news in person. When I can show her my shiny diamonds. TEN of them. Not that I have counted or anything.

On a serious note, my grandmother died around this time last year and I never got the time to deal with it and I was in denial about the whole thing. The day after I was engaged I was all thrilled and then thought"I have to tell grandma" since my grandmother was the person that I first told everything like this.. first port of call. Which is when I really understood that she was really dead. So I spent the morning, afternoon, evening AND night after my engagement crying. I know. It's fucking sad. You just wait and see what the wedding night will be like, sweetheart.

Moving on, explanatory, I can deal with grief, right? All I have to do is cry and rest, correct? Yes. Rest. BUT! The fucking retards that I am lucky enough to share a flat with have had PARTIES. UNTIL 4FUCKINGAM. ON THE WEEKDAYS. I came home all shattered on Monday night, there was noise in the kitchen, at 2.30am I asked them to keep it down. At 3am THEY INVITED MORE PEOPLE. I then went over to the kitchen to give the message "hello, I am AWAKE and I am not happy about it!" Then went back to my room to wait for silence.

At FOUR FRIGGIN THIRTY.... THERE WAS NO SILENCE YET! I was majorly pissed, and apparently my requests to BE QUIET means nothing to them. This was Monday night.

TUESDAY, They started at 10pm and I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG because I wound up sleeping IN MY BATHROOM because that was the only place the sound was somewhat muffled. I know I last looked at the time at 4am and even after that there was still loud music and general asshole-noise.

So this morning I went to my doctor with distress and LACK OF SLEEP and he has told me not to set foot in a classroom for a week. And there will be meetings with the residents office (who are pissed off) and I have doctor's certificates to show that there is so much TENSION in me that it is a miracle my heart doesn't jump straight out of my chest, somewhat due to assholes not able to be fucking quiet two fucking nights in a row. University dorms or not, this is ridicules.

So, I am off back to Paul to cry and whine some more. That is where I will be untill over the weekend.

Also, I have to say that the University have been champs in this, don't leave me comments whining about them, they are fixing it.

Also, guess what? 3/4 of the people causing all the fucking noise which is the reason I had to take time off? THEY ARE FRENCH.

Well hello again

2005-10-18T13:12:00.000+02:00

Well. So I fell sick. I don't mean like man-flu, I-don't-want-to-go-to-classes-sick. No. I have been IN BED. FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK.

You know what the worst part was? THE WORST PART? I always got up to go to classes. YES. How fucking fever disoriented aren't I when my logic is "Am. Almost. Dying. Must. Go. To. Long. Boring. Lecture." And now the university hates me because my compulsive attendance have caused like 90% of my fellow students to come down with the study-flu. Except none of them can be arsed to go to lectures, so apparently they aren't as SICK as me.

Anyhow. Out of bed now. And what would life be without PATIENT friends like you waiting patiently by my sick-bed for me to recover and/or stagger off to lectures in a semi-coma. See this is what you get when your boyfriend takes you to see zombie movies. You turn into one. So there. No more scary flesh-eating people, dear. Not even in movies. Not even if you cover my eyes every time you get scared.

Anyhow, again. Your utter PATIENCE and LOVE and CARE and not to speak of how WORRIED you have been since I haven't been updating is just so TOUCHING to me that I have decided that I am going to toss a "nuculur" bomb over France. No, wait. That was something different. For you, I will just WITHHOLD pictures and any other information that you would perhaps maybe like.

Send coughdrops.

Lala, I have exciting news!

2005-10-03T15:15:00.000+02:00

..and I can't tell you. No. Not for another 3 weeks.

Sorry!

It's very secret.

But. Me being me and being VERY bad at keeping secrets... Well my own secrets anyhow (I have to say this now as I am in the process of being a psychologist. I really suck at secrets. My own. I can keep your secrets, I promise. See that "mail me" link under "Blogs I read"? MAIL ME ALL YOUR SECRETS! So that I can keep them. Locked up in my vault.)

Where was I? Yes. Bad at keeping quiet about things that EXCITE me.

So. I will give you a chance. Post comments where you guess your little hearts out. And if anyone gets it right I will take the time out of my busy settling-in-a-new-country-and-am-very-busy-time and write a long, funny post that will make you laugh I SWEAR. AND I will confirm what the exciting news was. AND. The person who guesses correctly will be the first one to see the pictures I am planning on posting. And Erasmus, you have not seen them, no matter what you think. You have not. No.

So. Contest. Enjoy.

Hey, I'm trying to study here!

2005-09-26T13:49:00.000+02:00

The internet stopped working in my room. Dang nabbit. AND I HAVE PICTURES TO SHOW YOU! Where I look cute! YES! So. All of y'all. Please call my university and make them fix my innernet. The sooner internet in my dorm is up and fixededth the sooner you will see pictures of me and Paul.

And then there will be cake.

And sex.

Concerning boyfriends

2005-09-19T14:12:00.000+02:00

People. I said I would tell you things about boyfriend and there would be emberrassing pictures because I have to do a post solely (soly? souly? souleley? yodelei?) about him. Well. Heh. I have emberrassing pictures. OH YES I have plenty. Of Yours Truly.

Things did not quite work out as planned.

He took pictures of us together. You know those lean-together-and-smile-NOW-and-we-look-sooo-cute-pictures? Yes. We did. And Paul (name = Paul. Remember.) looks goodlooking as ever. Awake. Smiling. Cute. Pretty. Boyfriend Material. And I cannot post that because y'all would come and steal him. That is the sole/yodelei reason why I will not post pictures. It has nothing to do with the fact that Me? I look stoned/depressed/sleepy/dead/like a trainwreck/all of the above and all of those are PRETTY HARD to fit into ONE expression in ONE picture. But y'all. Somehow I managed. Talent.

And People. I will not allow you to see these pictures of me. It is against my religion of self worshipping. There might be pictures later. With Paul's blessing/my bribes.

As for the cake and sex, the cake was lovely.

I kid.

I will not give out details. It would be mean and not loyal.

But I will reveal to you that my little prince has been having difficulties keeping awake since I left 22 hours ago. The poor little thing. He never saw me coming. (It's true. He didn't see me at the train station untill I was standing on his foot.)
I will be generous and say that the lack of awakeness might be that me? I am not a... Well you know me and what I am not. You lot would be sleepy too, after so much cake.

Anyhow. More you'd like to know?

Well Hello

2005-09-14T15:58:00.000+02:00

I am alive. I survived. Now I am here and I like it, and you remember previous posts when i said that British keyboards DO MY HEAD IN. Well it is still true. I might smash this whole computer. It would feel good to me. I will fix soon. Not to worry

Anyways. I am working hard (hardly working) so you guys must be patient. I am in a new country damnit!

I am still in a good mood and I have 3 posts (because my new love demands a post ALL TO HIMSELF. And there will be emberrassing pictures, ooohh yes there will, demanding boyfriend) just waiting to get typed out. Y'all can't wait, I know it. I WILL TELL YOU EVERYTHING ABOUT MY NEW BOYFRIEND. HOORAY! And then we'll have cake and ice-cream. And then I can have sex. With my new boyfriend. And be happy. Yey.

Later, folks.

Concerning Boybands

2005-09-11T03:25:00.000+02:00

Let me just ask you something...

By the way.. I am leaving for England on Monday. Just so you know. Leaving home! Scary! So scary! Sympathy! Different country! Oh noooo. And also I had to take up loans and I am 20 and I have a debth that is higher than the amount of money America has wasted on war so far and also I AM LEAVING HOME!! Who is gonna do my laundry now?!

Anyways.

Concerning boybands.

What is the dumbest, unknown, ...boybandiest boyband you know of? I want everyone to make a suggestion. Please. Just... name a boyband that you've heard of that never quite made it up the chartlists. I want to write a post about this.

My vote goes to take 5. And I must also mention that I have both their albums. And that if I got my hands on that Tilky Jones... well let's just say.. ok I can't come up with a metaphor but there would be sex and it would be wild. And maybe I would have him sign my boobs. I don't know. Stevie would do too. He was a hottie. And also Clay, he was cute in a very... uncute way.

Anyhow.

I have 2 posts coming right up

AND!

Someone has found it in their heart to give me a license! YES! I can now operate a motorised vehicle! A manual and everything. The only thing that pulled me down on the test was that I "drive too slowly and don't look around enough"... And also I can't park to save my life. Which.. duh. I am female, damnit. So ANYWAYS, don't feel too safe, Englishmen. I am coming to your country and I have a license, I am not afraid to use it and I AM USED TO DRIVING ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE ROAD.

And also

I am in love

Awww

Lauskatta Å Laptopa De Går Itj I Lag

2005-09-03T12:37:00.000+02:00

(de hi æ lert i dag)

Sorry. Could not find a suitable title in English. So it's in Norwegian today. Yes. Deal with it. What it means is "Stray cats and laptops don't get along (that's what I've learned today)". Aaaaand it's a little rewrite of a Norwegian song, that's really called... eh.. "Stray dogs and false teeth don't get along" I'm not kidding, that's a Norwegian song. It's not even country! It's a fun song!

But yeah. I have a new laptop. Its name is Medion. It is cool, except I do not know it very well yet and well... Funny things have happened while I was writing. And you, of all people, should know that manuals are for pussies. So I merrily type on my very comfortable keyboard (tap tap tap!) and try to fix whatever comes up. No surprises really, because I know not to press buttons I do not know what are for ("what does this do?") and thus I do not start weird effects (such as slow keys... or something.. Never did that.) (Try to press shift 5 times! It's fun!)

What I also have, is two kitties. Now. Freddie, the gambling addict, he does not bother me, he just walks around the apartment all day, with no goal or motivation, he just walks and walks, that is what he does. And he's happy. Occationaly he also eats and sleeps. And post for pictures with cards on his head. But Whisky... Whisky is a cat deluxe. Everything cat haters don't like about cats, Whisky has in plentyfull. And I love her for it. EXCEPT for when she wakes me up from staring at me (and I am pretty hard to wake up, even if you are violently shaking me. Now imagine how long she must have sat there before she managed to wake me up from sheer gazing power!), when she shoves her ass up my face, and GODDAMIT I hate it when she does weird things to my computer!

Kirsti: tap tap tap. tappeti tap. tap. taptap!

Medion: Oh I love it when you tap my keys like that. I like you. I will be nice to you.

Kirsti: I like you too, laptop. Let's tap forever. Tap. Taptap.

Whisky: Why is not all attention to me? Who loves kitty? Here... I will let you look at my ass. Purrrr

Kirsti: I just fed you!

Whisky: It was not tuna. It is an insult to give me anything that is not tuna. I will not eat it. I will lay down on this keyboard and chase after your fingers with my RazorSharpKittyClaws(tm).

Medion: There is fur on me. I do not like fur. I will now develop a "bad attitude"

Kirsti: Bad kitty! Now get down from here. Go bite Freddie in the balls or something! Go chew on my toes! (She has been known to do both these things on a daily basis)

Medion: Since you allowed kitty on me I have now, most sadly and accidentally, shifted around all the letters and signs on the keyboard so you will have no idea where to find them.

Kirsti: ...

Kirsti typing: What in the world? How do I undo this?

Medion writes: Sbah ah idb eruhn_ Qma ps ueøt ~?he_

Kirsti: tap? taptap? ....tap..?

Kirsti: Oh I guess I will just turn you off

Medion: NOOOO!! I mean... "RandomlyShiftingKeys(tm) is now turned off."

Kirsti: Right. Well. tap. tap tap. Tappeti ta... NO KITTY GET OFF!

Medion: Voice Command is now On.

Kirsti: Tap.

Medion: Voice Command is now On. I will only take Voice Commands. Talk to me.

Kirsti: Turn off voice command.

Medion: I did not recognice this command. Please try again.

Kirsti: Turn OFF voice command!

Medion: I did not recognice this command. Please try again.

Kirsti: TURN OFF FRIGGIN VOICE COMMAND!

Medion: I did not recognice this command. Please try again.

Kirsti: TURN!

Medion: I did not recognice this command. Please try again.

Kirsti: OFF!

Medion: I can't hear ya, bitch. Please try again.

Kirsti: THE!

Medion: Hard to hear ya when ya mumble. Please try again.

Kirsti: GOD!

Medion: Is that foreign you are speaking? Please try again.

Kirsti: DAMNED!

Medion: I do not know such foul language. Please try again.

Kirsti: VOICE!

Medion: You're gonna have to speak up. Please try again.

Kirsti: COMMAND!

Medion: Command. Which command would you like me to perform?

Kirsti: ...

Medion: I did not recognice this command. Please try again.

Kirsti: ...!

Medion: I did not recognice this command. Please try again.

Kirsti: .... Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Medion: Thank you for your command. Preparing to format, Please Wait...

Kirsti: OH MY GOD I SWEAR I WILL PULL OUT YOUR PLUG!

Medion: Voice Command Off.

Kirsti: I need a drink.

Medion: I did not recognice this command. Please try again.

Discoverys I've Made Lately

2005-08-31T22:46:00.000+02:00

Blah blah blah intro intro, without furhter ado:

Great List Of My Recent Discoverys In The Great School Of Life

1. I have no clue as to how to spell the plural form of discovery. Discoverys? Discoveries? Who cares! I'm not gonna spellcheck it. I hope I get it wrong and I hope it EATS YOU UP.

2. Y'all remember good old PDH? Well.. this is... Wel lthis was fun for me. Because his mother? Well his mother.. PDH's Mama... the woman who gave birth to and also raised him... And maybe would not be as proud if she knew that he sent out notes saying "I is horny on you" to random girls... Well that woman? PDH's Mother? Is my Dentist. That I have been going to for like years and years. Yes. While I was totally crushing on this man I had his mothers fingers fiddling in my mouth all along. Hell, I've probably been having dirty thoughts about her son right in that very chair. Which just... So disturbing. I am not going back there. Change of dentist for me. Oh yes.

3. Like.. 1% of my visitors are Swedish. What in the world? Don't y'all know I'm Norwegian? At least you're not French. REVEAL YOURSELVES you Swedish Readers! I wanna know who you are! Thought Swedes held themselves too good to hang with us humble Norwegians. Oh, and also, give us back Jämtdalen and Hërjedalen damnit!

4. Like 1000 single men have sent me fanmail after my last post. I am now popular. Lesson: write sluttier posts.

5. sarathena does not have a husky voice. Point taken. Now we know she must have called while she had a cold. Schexy!

6. New laptop = fucked up keyboard = hard to type. Also. Sweettalking Mother + donation of old laptop = new laptop.

7. Picking up a big ticket item that you have purchased.. it is not easy. "Pick up your laptop in the back". Cool enough. I pay, step out and I am looking for something like this:

-----> PICK UP YOUR ITEMS HERE!!! <-----

Instead I find this sign over a tiny door hidden behind a parked truck, after walking around the building 7 times:

you can pick up shit here if you'd like. you don't have to. But maybe. If you want. If you can find us.

And these were the news.

In the meantime...

2005-08-30T11:28:00.000+02:00

While I am working hard on "getting over myself" and "snapping out of it" I thought I would indeed post something for you lovely people who are so cute and darling and... Well, and also sarathena. I'll write something for you too. Lest you'll start calling me up again with husky static.

So. What shall I make a list about? What can I write that is funny, yet somewhat disgustng, to follow in good Kirsti tradition? Better yet, what can I post to best incriminate myself now that Sister has found this blog? And most importantly, what can I post that will further increase my nightly panic attacks upon thinking that Mother will find said blog? Oh, but of course:

Bad experiences I, Kirsti, have had with sperm/semen/man-juice/etc etc

Luckily there are only two.

1. Once.. I was flying from somewhere. And more importantly, I was flying from someone. And guys. It was very sad. So I said goodbye the best way I know how. And then I had to run through security to make my plane while he... uh... "cleaned up the airport bathroom stall". And then I was on the plane all happily gazing at the stupid in-flight magazines and eating peanuts. And then... and then. Well. My hair was "not clean". It was very "unclean". It was like "Everybody loves Mary" unclean. At least it wasn't obvious to everyone around me, Mary-style, but the principle... THERE WAS GOO IN MY HAIR.. it was just too much for me to handle. And you guys. One can't cut off hair in an airplane. Because anything equipped to cut, slice or file they take from you in security. (Oh yes, in this situation I was ready to cut my hair with a nailfile!) And since I was not much in the mood to get a new haircut per useage of the dull, miniscule knife they trusted us to eat our on-flight road kill with, there was only one alternative.

People. You have not experienced a "downfall in dignity" untill you have been trying to wash sperm out of your hair in the tiiiiny plane bathrooms that has one of them stupid sinks that only give off water 2 tenths of a second at the time and also the captain is all "please return to your seat, we are heading towards some turbulence".

And just like THAT I was over the man that I had left behind in the airport. Ahhh. Young love.

2. This is another Andy story. Yes yes. We are all tired of him by now. But he's good blogging material. We went over this before! Ok anyhow. Blah blah blah and I got a spot on my shirt. Right in the "chest area". Nice aim, darling. Also this was right before a journey.. that time when I went to London and someone decided to blow up my favourite means of transportation just as I turned my back to the city. Remember? Anyways. Spot on shirt, shirt in bag, think "will clean later", Kirsti in shower, Andy refuse to come with me in shower, wonder if Andy is impotent. That was that night. Tthe next morning after 1 hour of sleep, Andy's friend snoring on the couch for unknown reasons (at least they bought pizza) and a taxi that refused to show up and me telling every single reader that EVER see this NOT TO EVER USE HAMAR TAXI! Not to save your lives! No! Because they will be late and then you'll die. They will brag about "the next available car" and then they won't show up untill tomorrow and by then we will all be dead. This will happen even if you order your taxi HOURS beforehand. They won't come!

Where was I? Oh yeah. The next morning after an assorted amount of ordeals I was on the plane to London. With a "bespotted" shirt in my bag. And all is good and we reach the... well, bespotted hotell, but that's another story. And like the 19-year-olds we were we decided to go out to a fancy club. Yes. And me, not thinking much of it.. in fact not thinking at all, pull on my bespotted shirt. Because I have a severe lack of brain cells.

You know where it goes from here. Club? Blacklights? Put those together, you have my night. Oh yeah. Sperm + blacklight = a very, very fun episode of room raiders! Now. I don't think that my spot was that obvious.. since no one shoved the blacklight all the way up to my chest.. but there was definitely a possibility. Because.. I did not dare to look! No! I want to live in the hope that in that club there was NOT a visible sperm-spot for everyone to see ON MY TIT. (left tit) So, we will conclude here that it DID NOT SHOW AT ALL. But! BUT! The FEELING! The FEELING of walking around with the bespotted shirt in a club with blacklights.. Oooohh, it was very unfun! It might just have been an invisible goo-spot on my shirt to YOU, but to me it felt like a HUGE spot with a pattern that spelled out "I GOT THIS FROM GIVING A BLOWJOB TO A 33-YEAR-OLD TEACHER!"

I got it!

2005-08-26T13:26:00.000+02:00

I figured out the joke!

It's "..that's what the bride said!"

Heeeehehehe. Got it? Bride... haha!

Guess who came to visit!

2005-08-22T21:29:00.000+02:00

Y'all. I was looking through some statistics about the very few visitors on my blog. When I came over a familiar ip-adress...

Hey, Sister!!

Leave comments!

How'd you find..?

Am I the ONLY Kirsti who leaves comments at Miss Doxie?

Posting..

2005-08-21T16:12:00.000+02:00

Ok I'm posting! I can't be funny but.. well. maybe you'd like to hear a joke? This Swede and a Dane walked into a bar with a zebra.. or maybe a giraffe.. or a pig. I think it was a pig. Or a cow. Maybe it was a cow. Well anyways. They order beer. Or wine. They order beer of wine. Or vodka? I think maybe vodka and redbull? Anyways. Then the giraffe says... Wait giraffes can't talk... Shit, I forgot it.

I'll get back to you when I've done some more research on this

I am not in the mood to post damnit

2005-08-18T15:49:00.000+02:00

Leave comments of encouragement.

Thank you

Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves

2005-08-12T21:05:00.000+02:00

I have sisters. I have 3 of them. 2 half sisters and one is 100% my own flesh, blood and DNA. And I say 100% because even though we are NINE YEARS APART, that is 3285 days between us, and that is NOT counting leapyears OR the fact that she's born in April and me in July. We are LIGHTYEARS apart and STILL, people ask us if we are twins. We look SO MUCH ALIKE. Not to us. I can see the difference between us clearly. I know which one is her and which one is me. This is not only due to the fact that I am INSIDE myself, but also because she is SKINNY and me? I am not so skinny. She used to not be so skinny, but then she went on the most successful diet ever and managed to stay that way and I know, we all hate women like that. Anyhow. Her: Skinny and pretty. Me: Not so skinny but damnit, I'm prettier. See? Should be obvious to anyone.

But apparently not. Because people mix us up all the time. And then I get all pissed about looking 29 and she's all flattered about looking 20. When we went to our half-sister's wedding we had both colored our hair, she was orange, I was purple, as you have seen. If ANY of you knew how many jokes we got about "How convenient! Now we can tell you apart from eachother! Hahahaha. One orange... one Purple... Hahaha. So... Which one of you is the purple one...?" It did make a good change from "...are you twins..? You are, aren't you?"
Anyhow. This is the sister I speak of with a capital S. She is the only sister that feels like a sister to me. She is the only sister I have lived with and that used to kick my ass when I was a kid. Believe me, I deserved it. Still, I don't think grabbing me by the belt and collar and throwing me across the room was very necessary. But whatever you say, Sis. You the man!

So in the spirit of being a little sister I will now tell you a tale about my sister that she would kill me if she knew I was posting on the EENTURNETT! Teeeeehehehehe. She won't hurt me. I will tell Mother!

So one day a christmas a few years ago Sister's friend was coming into town. Now this friend.. and Sister. Well each on their own they are two very nice and successful women. But put together... they are trouble. Not just "oooh hahaha you are sooooo drunk" trouble. But real "goddammit I hope this doesn't end up on the front page of tomorrow's paper" trouble. Like this one time they went out in Scotland. And next thing you know, one of Sister's friends with a police radio hears her name reported missing in Edinbourgh. Yeah. REPORTED MISSING. Mhm. Where do you think Sister was? Correct. After-party. So these are the girls that hung around my home when I was a little girl. Did this answer any questions for you?

So anyways. Sister went out with this friend a fine December evening a few Christmases ago. And we heard nothing from her and assumed they were having a lovely night out. Believe me, folks, they had fun.

The next "morning" at around 1pm Sister calls and demands to talk to Mother. She has lost her purse. Her purse is no where to be found. Her purse contained things such as her VISA CARD and also a lot of money and CREDIT CARDS that could you know, BE ABUSED. And this was gone. GONE! And also Sister had a mighty hangover and did what any responsible adult would do in this situation. Call Mother and Little Sister and have them fix it while she napped. So anyhow, we found numbers and called around and blocked cards and ordered new cards and called the one place Sister remembered being when she last saw her purse and also called alot of places Sister didn't remember going to but quite possibly could have been to even so because she... had only vague memories of the last hours of the night. Now, none of these places were open on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of Christmas so we didn't really get very far. But at least her cards were blocked so her accounts were safe. For now.

A few hours later when me and Mother had sat down again after calling what I believe to be every single phone in the entire city (it must be said that Sister made quite a few phonecalls herself too, but she was not feeling great so she mostly grunted into the reciever.), Sister called us again. And told us the following story:

Some hours after our mad calling spree upon her discovering her purse was gone, she had started to feel better, and not so much like she was going through Death By Hangover anymore. So she had started thinking. She found it rather curious that she had been able to pay the taxi she took home, that she suddently had had a clear memory flash about, if she had indeed lost her purse with all her money. Ah-a! Call the taxi people. No, they had not seem no purses, not in their entire life and ALSO the driver wouldn't have allowed Sister to leave the car without her purse. After calling the taxi people thieves and liars Sister then remembered her keys were also in her purse. And she had been able to unlock the door to get in. With some difficulty, I assume. But, door unlocked, key in purse. Purse must be nearby! So. She went searching for it. And found it. In the closet in the guest room.

I repeat.

Sister comes home drunk, and with an uncomprehensible drunken logic thinks that: "My purse needs be put in the guestroom closet, lest God will find out I have been naughty and I shall have to spend eternity in hell!" So she puts it there and happily goes to sleep. And you guys, it was not just PUT into the guestroom closet, like she had opened the door and thrown it in. No. She had put it BEHIND the stack of towels that she keeps in there. She had HIDDEN the purse FROM HERSELF, in the closet, in the guestroom. People. I have been mighty drunk. But I have NEVER hidden my own valuables so well that I have had problems locating them the next day (here not to mention the magic disappearing trick I constantly do with my passport while 100% sober). What kind of logic makes one think "PURSE MUST BE HIDDEN NEVER TO BE FOUND BY SELF AGAIN!"?

Part of the story, also, is that Sister later mentioned, not told us, but casually MENTIONED that the remainder of that Christmas they had had almost no food, because all her accounts were blocked and she had spend the cash she had on the taxi. And then kindly asked us if maybe we would like to donate some food for the kitty because he was getting rather hungry?

My poor, poor suffering Mother. One of her daughters hides her purse from herself and buys no more food for an entire christmas, the holiday of endless gluttony. The other daughter keeps a blog that is not Mother-safe. There is a special place for mothers like that in heaven. Where they get red wine and chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner and can watch romantic comedies all day.

The science of making tea.

2005-08-11T12:41:00.000+02:00

Again.. I have nothing to write here.

Tonight I'm gonna see a movie with Mia and Marianne. Yes. We're gonna watch Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy. But first we're going to the PIZZA BUFFET! Y'all.. I might eat myself to death and don't get to see the movie. Which would be sad because I have already paid for the tickets (for ALL THREE OF US. Yes. I am a good friend like that. But I will demand that they buy me food and popcorn). I love pizza, people. Don't trust me around pizza. When I see pizza greed turns into a yes-word and gluttony becomes a life-long goal. Especially if there's bacon on it. Bacon on pizza is like getting laid while playing Playstation. It's TWO good things all wrapped up in ONE! A friend of mine eats rice with her pizza. I know! She's weird like that. Also, when we have been out on the town and take the last bus home, the one that leaves at 4am and delivers a bunch of drunkards safely to their home around 4.30am, she's sitting there, on the bus, talking about how tired she is and how she is gonna sleep in tomorrow, and I quote "I might even sleep to 10am!!!" Yeah. Wow. What a lazy ass. Sleeping way past church and everything. Jesus is crying for you, weird rice-eating friend.

I will buy myself a digital camera. So that I can post plenty of irrelevant pictures on my post. And send a very, very lonely Mother lots of pictures of my new life in England and of my dormroom, which will probably be falling apart, and of my new English friends and of me drunk on English beer and... well lots of things. The adventure starts in September, people!

Speaking of English, I have develped a new obsession and I blame the English! You lot taught me that tea should be made with water that is "BoilING not boilED!"So fine. I have this water boiler thingy that turns off when the water boils. Then the water stops boiling. So I have to get it just at the right moment. And at the right moment I'm always somewhere else. Because y'all, if you have not noticed yet.. Me, I am Easily distracted. Yes. During one of my Impurtent Ecksamz that would "be the most important thing you do in your academic life" according to the principal, I sat there watching a spider making a web from my desk to the desk next to mine for thirtyfive minutes. Thirty. Five. Minues. I don't think I even blinked once. It was very fascinating, it made one thread then used that to fasten three more like in an asterix, and then he kind of weaved.. it. Anyways. I spend 10% of my examination time watching one of the VERY MIRACLES OF NATURE, ok? I learned way more from watching that than I ever would have learned if I spent these minutes discussing how Ibsen reflected realism and the Norwegian bohem-people's ideas. What the hell was I talking about?

Oh yeah. Making tea. I get easily distracted. So while I am trying to get the water JUST AS IT BOILS, remember I want it at exactly 100 celcius, not 99 and God forbid 98! So I am thinking "Must. Watch. Water. Must. See. When. Water. Boils. Very. Impor... OH LOOK AT KITTY! KITTY IS WALKING ACROSS THE FLOOR! HOW FASCINATING! HEEEERE KITTY KIT.. Fuck, the water boiler has turned off." So then I have to boil the water again. And then I get distracted again because, you know the thing that you get your sugar-substitute thing out of? That deal? When you press the button and it comes out? That thing, it is very advanced technology and I have tried to figure it out for 17 of my 20 years. So while I am doing further research on that, the water boils again and cools down, and I have to boil it AGAIN.

Maybe my tea is healthier since I have been known to boil my water FOUR OR FIVE TIMES? I mean, boiling something makes the bacteria and stuff die.. you know? So my tea should have 5 times less bacteria than any other tea? ...No? Can someone consult a nutrition expert as to this?
And while you're at it, can you ask him of it is true that if the water is not boiling when I pour it over my tea that I will die an early death provoked by bad tea and non-boiling? I think it better brings out the flavour from the tea-leaves? I am completely obsessed with this and I don't even know WHY I do it? Why? WHY? Englishmen! Britons all over the world, answer this to me. And if even ONE of you say that the water needs not be boilING but can just as merrily be boilED I will surely strangle each and every one of you, just for the hard work and toil that I have put myself through so that my tea will live up to your boilING standards.

So there.

Today I am blaspheming

2005-08-08T23:23:00.000+02:00

Have you ever been stopped on the streets by one of them "Have you found Jesus?" people?

I was today. They always get mad when I offer to help them search, ask where they last saw him and suggest putting up missing posters. I'm not trying to be cheeky or disrespectful. I just don't want to have someone else's religion shoved up in my face as I walk along minding my own business. If I was to give anyone a hard time about their religions, then I'd get bunches of negative reactions... but it seems that my lack of religion is free for anyone to bitch around with. I DO believe in God, I really do. But I don't believe in organized churches. I admire people who can belong to a church, I envy the calm and insurance they find there, but it's not for me and I don't want to have people try to push my face into it.

So today, I am blaspheming.

I am gonna prove to you all, once and for all, that my life and religion are not compatible. I have chosen Catholicism as a comparison to my life since it's the biggest religious body in the world. And also the funnest one. And also that gave me the opportunity to interrogate a catholic and piss him off, which was kinda fun. And also I have a thing for catholics, as you know. They are fascinating! I think I might marry one. I should get a medal from the Pope since I lead Catholics into temptation and help God find out who is good and who is bad. I think so! OH! And people! Catholics get cut! They are one huge religion with NO FORESKIN WHATSOEVER! How could you not love Catholicism?

Catholicism is (on top of being almost impossible to type correct) a very fascinating "religious body". At least in my mind it has been, ever since I almost failed a test about Catholicism in school last year. "Almost fail" for me means "getting a B" for everyone else. Anyways, I was shocked to find out that "hitlist pop" and "bringing your screaming kids out in public" was not 2 of the 7 deadly sins. I would say both of those are worse, and more deadly, than greed, gluttony and pride PUT TOGETHER.

So anyhow. I have made a snazzy table that compares my life to Catholicism. Now if I can just find out how to put it here... time for some magic.

No Catholics or Australians were hurt in the making of this post.

And a big thanks to Nader of Lebanon for bringing the magic and proving that he is able to do more than look worried as I slide down the side of a mountain (with sharp rocks!) in slippery shoes.

Guys, answer me one thing.

2005-08-07T23:06:00.000+02:00

If someone pokes/pinches/hits/God forbid, kicks/slaps etc you in the nuts, you are put through so much pain that you cannot hardly call us stupid bitches before you fall over and don't get up.

BUT! When you are (people who have a problem with vulgarity please realize/realise that you have come to the wrong place entirely and stop reading now) taking a girl doggy, they hit and slap so hard that the sound could wake a sleeping Kirsti. And that takes alot y'all. Not that I ever fell asleep while being taken from behind. Wouldn't possibly happen. Not even if I was propped up on pillows and all was very pleasant and good. No. I would not do that. Africa! Why does this not hurt your oh-so-sentitive, saggy, hairy friends?

Answers. I need them.

WHY does the smallest little poke hurt "SO, SO MUCH YOU EVIL, COLD BITCH! TAKE THE GODDAM REMOTE CONTROL, THEN!!!" in a non-sexual setting, but not at all when you are eagerly smacking them on some willing ass?

This has been twisting around in my brain many, many hours now and well. I demand answers.

There will be no more posts untill we solve this mystery. Well, there will be. But PLEASE give me an answer!

As a thank-you I will leave you with a picture of my pussy.

His name is Freddie. That is a playing card on his head. It was funny to us. He did not find it even slightly amusing.

Europe For Dummies

2005-08-04T00:41:00.000+02:00

...namely Americans.

No. Americans are not dummies. You lot just elected one for president. And when given the opportunity to change it, you elected him again. I won't judge though. I re-elected English even though the teacher was a total... it's all the same. It doesn't matter.

When I lived in America I concluded that although friendly and... friendly, Americans do not know much about life outside their own state lines. I was constantly asked questions about Norway and Europe in general. I did not mind at all. Some of them were very good blog-material, such as "Do you still keep your cows in your living room in Norway?" and "How old are you in Norway?" All I am saying here is that the average high school hick in the Midwest has a... limited world perception. Meanwhile, us Europeans know where "Germany" is, and also we know that "The Empire" is not a misspelled baseball player. I have many times read about the Roman Umpire, who was very good on fastballs I hear. Did that make any sense at all? My baseball knowledge is like... an American's world perception.

So in all my niceness, and in answer to JQP's wonderful and very enlightened questions I will now make a guide for you all to to mysterious, yet wonderful world of Europeans. You must feel free to print it out and use at will. Also give my URL to all your friends. I love the attention.

So here it is, to all you Americans (And also, of course, Asians, Africans, Australians (even thought you lot are really British. Oh shush, you are so) and the French):

The Big Guide To Europe, Written By Me, Kirsti, From My Point Of View.
(This list excludes the French, as they are a breed of their own)

1. Yes, we do have the following: Televisions, Videos, DVDs, CDs, Mobile phones (we have so many.. you'd never understand), Houses, electrisity, water closets, beds, running water, washing machines, all kinds of gadgets you lot have never heard about.

2. No, we do not daily encounter the following (well, most of us don't): Outhouses, igloos, straw huts, polar bears, jodeling dwarfs, leprechauns, trolls, cows in livingrooms, ages that change from country to country.

3. No, we do not know which way our toilets flush. This is becasuse no European, ever, has been staring down a flushing toilet trying to figure out if it flushes clockwise or counter clockwise. Nor can we say we really CARE how this relates to YOUR toilets' flushing-direction, nor to that of the Australians. As long as is flushes downwards, into the sewer, and not upwards towards the seat and out on the floor, we are merry on our way.

4. We do shave. All of us. The bikini line and everything. Well most of us do the bikini deal.

5. I shower every day or every other day. That is average.

6. No, we do not strunt around naked all day. I do that for only one hour every day. Max.

7. We do not like country music. If a European tells you he/she likes country music, he/she is lying to you and you must punish him/her immediately. If he/she still sticks to this story you must go to get the friendly big man in the white coat with all the funny medicines. It will be best for everyone. All statistics about increased sales of country music in Europe is a scam made up by the record companies to try and make us jump onto the band wagon.

8. If your grandmother/great granduncle/mother-in-law/best friend's brother is Norwegian, that does NOT make you Norwegian. So when I say I am Norwegian, and you answer you are too... No. 1/16th Norwegian descent doesn't make you Norwegian. You're a mutt, that's what you are. Have you an American passport? Then you are American. Learn Norwegian, get a Norwegian passport, eat lutefisk, learn to pickle fish and row from New York to Ålesund in a long boat. Then you'll be Norwegian.

9. America is the one country with most overweight people in the world, you put barbeque sauce on anything and will EAT CHEESE AS A SNACK. Still, you are the first ones to talk down about European food. (Unless it's Americanized and served in grotesquely oversized portions at Olive Garden.) LEAVE MY PICKLED FISH ALONE! This one is personally dedicated to JQ "I liked german food untill I tasted actual German food"P. Oh, and also, we pickle fish once a year so that it's ready for christmas. I will expect you there this year, with aquavit.

10. We speak different languages over here. Yes. As in not English. Well the English speak English. The Scottish and Irish attempt to speak English but it doesn't sound like they totally succeed at it. But the rest of us. We speak a "different language". A "different language" is not just English with another accent and an o at the end of every word, despite what they tell you in James Bond movies.

11. We hate the French, too. (Again I must point out that this list excludes the French themselves. The French, in return, hate everyone else.)

Getting Down With Mother

2005-08-02T20:17:00.000+02:00

You know how mother was all cool about me not being sweet and innocent? (which I am, I am damnit!) Mother has now.. taken a liking to "cool" things. No, it is not the running clishè of middle-aged women trying to be young and cool. Mother really LIKE these things.
Mother likes some hitlist songs. I am ashamed to say it. Because me? I am more into old things. Queen and AC/DC and Pink Floyd and Destiny's Child. I didn't really say Destiny's Child did I? No? Good. That is a secret. You know Uriah Heep, don't you? I met someone out in a bar the other night that DID NOT KNOW of Uriah Heep! That is like not being able to find your own foot. I just felt like sharing that. It got me majorly concerned about the future of our generation. What the hell will we be listening to while we build a new, improved world if the guys in charge do not know of Uriah Heep? Maybe I will have to negotiate world peace while they're playing Eminem on the radio. Oh and what if there is Techno playing? I will lose all interest in saving the world completely.

I was talking about Mother, wasn't I? Yes. She likes hitlist songs. Well not every song. Most of it is "not music and certain proof that they do not make proper music anymore". But the occational song. She'll dig it. 100% groovy.

Problem is, she'll forget the name of the song, the band, the genre, the name of the singer, her own name, her cat's name and the name of things in the world in general. She forgets things. And after forgetting all these things, she'll still want me to download this unnamed song by the mystery band or singer for her and burn it onto... onto.. one of them.. one of them...
"Recordable CD's Mother?"
"Yes... One of them..."

And of course, she asks me to do this while I'm busy doing something else. Mostly while I'm making dinner right after she comes home from work, and she's heard some song on the radio and now she wants it on "one of them..."

Kirsti: Welcome home to your Sweet and Innocent Daughter, dear Mother that I love so much.

Mother: Hey what is that song with that girl?

Kirsti: That song with that girl? Well lots of girls sing songs you see...

Mother: Oh you know what I mean! The one with the band!

Kirsti: ..The one with the band... So there is a girl in a band and she sings and you want that song?

Mother: (exasperated) NO! The one where she is walking with the band! You know, in front of the band!

Kirsti: And... this girl and this band.. they walked past your car on your way home from work?

Mother: NO! Stop being difficult! You know who I mean! It isn't Shania Twain.

Kirsti: ... Girl.. walk in front of band... not Shania Twain..

Mother: YES! That one!

Kirsti: I... have no clue?

Mother: Oh come on! It's on the tip of my tongue! And there is a cabriolet and cheerleaders and a banana and everything.

Kirsti: A what? A banana?

Mother: YES! She says banana! Like this "This is a banana. B A N A N A"

Kirsti: OOOHH!!! Gwen Stephani? I don't think that's exactly what she says, mum.

Mother: Oh? What does she say then?

Kirsti: She says "This sh.." ...actually I think she really DOES say "This is a banana" when I think about it.

So that's it. My mother loves Hollaback Girl. Which is. Fine. We can play that in the car now.

Oh! This weekend... me and Mother went out to see a middle age festival that is going on now, with a market and everything. And we managed to come home with FOUR PAIRS of very non-medieval shoes. Plus several other items of new clothing. Also medievally-challenged. I think we were at the market for 20 minutes (we bought soap!) and then roamed the downtown shopping-areas for well over the recommended doseage, and then I ate a burger that was so good. SO GOOD. And then we went to the mall.

So it's proven. Mother is a shopaholic. It definitely must run in the family. I think she got it from me. It's not so much that we go shopping so often. But when we get started. It is hard to stop us. It's such a material sense of euphoria.

Now I will go and lay me down as I did not sleep much last night because I was gritting my teeth over how some people change and it plainly sucks and I was very angry. And I am still angry. But now I am angry and sleepy so at least I can remedy one of these things. And also, you need to let me know if you are culturally challenged and do not know off Uriah Heep, so maybe I can burn some of their songs on "one of them..." and enlighten you.

I leave you now with a picture of me where you can see how happy I always am to have my picture taken. Looove the attention.

Based On Popular Request

2005-07-31T22:31:00.000+02:00

...which is Atom, 6 minutes ago, leaving a comment to something of the effect of "Post and you will forever be my hero", I will now make a post. Even though I have nothing, NOTHING to write, whatsoever. Not in the deepest depth of my heart. No clue. Nothing.

But. Since me and Atom are practically twins, albeit one year apart, THIS DOES NOT MATTER, I feel compelled to write. Something. And also I feel kind of bad for abandoning you all for such long periods of time. I know how much you love me. I'm sorry. So sorry. I love me too.

Oh! First alittle ANECDOTE about Andy that I have forgotten to share. It was supposed to be under the disturbing-post. But I thought that post was too long so I will post it under THIS one instead. Hooray! This isn't so disturbing though. So you faint at heart who have allowed yourself on my site, you must not be warned at all. You can all sit back, relax and I promise you won't have to turn up your pace-makers. Ok? So.

Andy, and me too, it must be said, have this profile thing up on one of them "Make Friends Here And Maybe Get A Date, It Will Be Fun, I Promise. Satisfaction Almost Guaranteed" sites. Yanno. Where you have a profile and people can send you e-mails through the site. It's fun to make fun of silly people on there. In fact, making fun of intelectually challenged people from that was the majority of content on my last webpage. Which is.. Well it was more fun for me than for the readers. HOWEVER. Andy cancelled his profile. Then after he LEFT ME, it was REOPENED! Due to some facts I was... tempted to believe that it was just someone who had stolen Andy's screenname and started a new profile. This majorly upset me, because Andy's screenname.. it was awesome. It was great. I could SO TOTALLY RELATE! It hit me deep in the heart. I cannot say it here because you crazy people will go through all those Friends-sites and you will eventually FIND HIM and tell him that "DUDE! Kirsti is writing mean things about you on the internet!" and then he'd sue me, which would be a problem because I WOULD LIKE TO CONTINUE writing mean things on the internet. But I can give you hints!

* It is something that is "very old". (To me, anyhow)
* It is something I used to play with as a kid.
* It is something I stole from Sister after she did not want it anymore.
* It is something that still exists but in newer, improved versions. But, like my men, I prefer the older version.
* It is something that I keep hidden in my closet, but still take out sometimes to play with.
* It is not a "very old vibrator", nor is it a "Secret Brazilian Lover". I knew you were all thinking it!

There was a list! But. And now we will get to WHY I thought someone had taken the screenname. Firstly. It said: Hairstyle: Above the ears. Which is not incorrect, per se. I mean "Shaved untill the point of ALMOST BALD" is "Above the ears". "Receding hairline" is "above the ears".
But to confirm that this next fact, that I will not reveal just yet just to KEEP YOU ON YOUR TOES, or more acurately, on the edge of your chairs, because you KNOW you are SO EXCITED to know what Andy did this time! Uh.. Where was..? oh yeah. To confirm that this WAS Andy with the hair "above the ears" I sent a very nice mail to his mail account on this site, the content of which I do not recall since I did this on my birthday, and I was sobriety challenged. But sure enough, he replied and AGAIN asked if I was in England yet. Sigh.
Now, that we know this is Andy. I will tell you that this.. new profile, it said funny things. Things that make me laugh. Such as "Hair: Above the ears" and also "Children: One"

Which just...

Wow.

I was never told about this. When I last saw him he had "Children: None". Suddently he leaves and BOOM! There is one love-child. I mean, this is the man who held my hands, looked me deep into the eyes and declared "I would like to have kids one day". Apparently "One day" was "yesterday", which is ok, totally. I mean. Last time I checked this was not my child (and damnit, I will get the DNA testing done to prove it!) but I could at least have been "informed" and not so much "kept in the dark". I only have known him for uhm.. april untill July.. = uh.. 4 months. Now, even with my VERY LIMITED fertility knowledge (I shall have to double-check with chench) I think it takes just alittle more than 4 months to have a baby? Maybe it is a very touching story. Maybe.. I don't know. Lost love child or something. We are all very happy that they have found eachother. But still, how could he conveniently FORGET that he had "Children: One", maybe it was because he loved me so much, honest.

OH! Did I tell you about the "love you, honest..." incident? No? It is very simple. Once, in the early days, like so early I hardly even KNEW his NAME (I kept thinking his name was Allen, and all my friends thought it was Mike) Andy send me a TEXT MESSAGE to my MOBILE which is the most IMPERSONAL way of contacting anyone EVER with INTIMATE INFORMATION and delivered the following line. "Love you... honest"

HONEST, y'all! Take no bullshit from this man! It is HONEST!

OH! One more thing! I casually mentioned to mother that I had this page. Because she was reading that Belle de Jour book (which is good and hereby recommended) and I blurted "OH! She used blogger too! That is where I keep my blog!"

This, people is what happen under situations when Brain: Shut down, Mouth: Working. This is too typical for me.

Of course, Mother demanded to read this blog. Whereupon I have tried to

1) Change the subject
2) Claim that it is boring
3) Claim that it is written in a language she does not understand
4) Claim that it is only written for gay men. (with whom she identifies, apparently.)
5) Hit her hard over the head and hope she forgets she ever heard about it. (Ok, not really)
6) Say, in all honesty, that I would have to censor it first.

Now, number 6 lead to a few.. interesting minutes of conversation. Which to me.. oh. so. horrible. Mother, let's just.. do you want ice-cream! Ok? Because this? Now I need to go to therapy for the rest of my LIFE. The conversation was something like this.

Kirsti: ...in a language you do not understand only for gay men and also I need to censor it.

Mother: CENSOR? What, do you think I am stupid?

Kirsti: What? No..? I do not..

Mother: Do you think I think you are some innocent cute little girl?

Kirsti: ...Yes?

Mother: Pffft! Yeah. Sure. I might be forgetful but.. So this blog does it have comments and everything?

Kirsti: Uh, yes.. but.. OH LOOK AT THE BIRD MOTHER!

Mother: Amazing. I can leave a comment! I am the person in this world who knows you the best and also..

Kirsti: Ice cream! I feel like ice cream! I do not care if I am milk intolerant! If I am lucky maybe it will kill me.

Mother: ..and also I have been young once too.

Kirsti: Shoes? Let's buy shoes? Would you like some shoes?

Mother: I know more than you know about you, you know

Kirsti: WHO TOLD YOU? I mean... No Mother, I tell you EVERYTHING because I love you so much.

And so it went on. So. Mother knows. But. I CANNOT LET HER READ THIS BLOG. It would surely kill me. Maybe. Maybe when I am in England. Mum, I love you but you CANNOT KNOW that I had SEX with a 33-year-old in a LAUNDRY ROOM slash KITCHEN in the YOUTH HOSTEL. I would Just Not Be Able To Live On. It is not Mother-appropriate! It would ruin her life! She had such big hopes for me!

And so, someone (who might have been me during my brain-shutdown) told her that it is possible to surf blogs by using the "next blog" button. Now it is her mission in life to find my blog this way. It is my ONLY HOPE in this ENTIRE WORLD that she gives up before she finds it.. But y'all, my mother is DETERMINED. Or, maybe, her server has BLACKLISTED ME, as described by JASON/Justin in his very awesome blog. It is very awesome to be blacklisted! I am bad!

So. This was my very long post of nothing.

Now I have to go and check that I do not have any love children that I have overlooked. Oh, and mum? If you really DO happen on this site? Please hit yourself hard over the head and forget about it. It is the best for both of us. I really AM sweet and innocent! HONEST!

The Perfect Cure for A Hangover

2005-07-29T13:37:00.000+02:00

..I could sure have used one yesterday. But people.. there is none! No! Other than "sleeping it off" and "feeling like crap all day". It's true, my doctor said it. Instead of her two "remedies" I chose to "act like I am not sick", "refuse to come out from under my blanket for hours", and "evacuate my bowels into the sink after smelling the dishes I am attempting to wash". Why must I feel so compelled to do chores when I am brutally hung over?

The worst part is I had to go down to Sister's house in order to babysit her little kitty cat, and I did not so much want him to starve because I was busy hurling into the bathroom sink after making a mad dash from the kitchen and the GOOD CHINA that would under NO CIRCUMSTANCES be covered in my sick. No. We do not starve cats in this family. Or so I thought. But when I got there, after a rather LONG and PAINFUL trip and might I tell you that I looked VERY pale and scared ALOT of people, the poor little kitty had eaten none of his food. Awww poow wittaw kitty witty, do you not like your food? So since he apparently was not lacking food I laid down on her couch and refused to come out from her blanket for another couple of hours.

See, guys, this is the case: Sister adopted this cat from the shelter. Aw, that's so nice of her. BUT. It turns out that Sister? She is a nazi catowner. In all seriousness, she treats the cat good, but she will take NO BULLSHIT from him, OH NO SHE WON'T! So she won't allow him in the bedroom and not on the couch not on the tables and DO NOT play with the carpets and whatnot. Therefore me and Mother have named her The Most Evillest Person In The World and spoil the cat rotten every time we get our hands on him. Like a good grandmother and aunt will do you know. Thing is, a couple of years ago the vet told Sister that Billy, that's the cat's name, needed to DIET. A task that Sister has met with the outmost enthusiasm. And I will tell you, this cat is now being dieted. (Dieted?) As far as I am concerned, Sister has developed a case of Anorexia by Proxy. (Hehe, this is a funny psychology joke. Very funny. I made it by myself! It made Mother laugh!) And Sister's latest invention for keeping the cat from eating is buying food that he won't eat. Apparently they are now having a cold war at home, him trying to trick her into feeding him, you know, EATABLE food, meanwhile she holds her case of "Oh buddy, you WILL eat that food!"

After a couple of hours under my blanket poor Billy had still not touched his food, and in my calculations that means that he had now gone well over 48 hours without food. So I did what any babysitter would do when the child is not eating. I called my mother. After explaining the whole not-eating situation she BEGGED and PLEADED me to PLEASE go buy some proper food and *sob* give the cat some *sob* good food to eat! He will break in *whimper* half soon! Keep in mind all of this was going on while I was EXTREMELY hungover. What won't I do for that cat.

So now the cat is fed and I have slept and decided to come out from under the blanket and maybe it was time to post something. I removed the last post because it was... not very well written. But trust me, I will write out that conversation with Shane PROPERLY once. And also put some hidden advertising in there for him. So that maybe he will love me again. *sniff* After deleting it I saw that chench had left a comment pointing out that he was definitely infatuated with me. (Shane, not chench. He is a happily married man. As rare as those are these days.) I totally agree. I know how Shane LOVES being called up by angry little girls who DOES hold a grudge, OH YES SHE DOES. For what reason the grudge is being held neither is 100% sure on, but it's a fun game nevertheless. But I still hold my case and am 100% certain that Shane WOULD have sex with Elvis given the chance and solemnly promise to type it out BETTERER next time. Because somewhere, deep into that conversation, there IS at least one good laugh for all of y'all! I PROMISE. I just gotta look for it.

And now I am working on a post with everything about me from A to Z. You know "A is for Alcohol, which is my SWORN enemy" Because I am the most important person in this world and I think it's vital that you should know everything about me and also my family. Because you are interested.

And also I will try to make it funny.

Bring on the bubbly!

2005-07-27T00:20:00.000+02:00

And a very happy Norway-birthday to me and ATOM! We are both now old enough to buy vodka! Due to time-zones we are still awaiting our America birthday.

I am not done panicing yet. I liked being a teenager.

Sigh.

Surprises and Mysteries!!

2005-07-26T20:04:00.000+02:00

This might be the longest post in the history of blogs. As I am writing this, a copy of Harry Potter is lying RIGHT BESIDES ME. Unopened. Yes. I put you all before Harry Potter. Therefore, you shall all read EVERY LETTER of EVERY SENTENSE in this blog, and you will LIKE IT and you will COMMENT on it. Thank you.

So. I went to the cottage in the COUNTRY. Ah. The 'Norwegian countryside', which is a Norse word for "Hell".

Mother was there alone as I was home trying to recover from London and tons of screaming kids and whatnot.. when suddently Mother decided that I, The Worst Daughter A Mother Could Imagine, should come visit her YESTERDAY, or at least FIVE MINUTES AGO, and WHEN WAS I PLANNING TO GET ON THAT BOAT (because this place.. yeah. You have to go by a BOAT. How far away from civilazation isn't that? BOAT!) BECAUSE SHE WAS LONELY AND WE SHOULD AT LEAST SPEND A WEEKEND TOGETHER.

So. I got on the boat. No problem. I would just be a few days, right? Overnight, just one night and then home. Yes. And then I came. And stayed one night. And stayed another night. Well this is ok, I will stay one more night. And then the days got LOOONGER AND LONGER andMother, maybe I should go home now? No no, because Sister was on her way and WE SHOULD AT LEAST SPEND ONE WEEKEND TOGETHER AS A FAMILY AND ALSO WHY WON'T WE, HER OWN DAUGHTERS, SPEND TIME WITH HER?
Ok. Sigh. Mother... we LIVE TOGETHER! We spend hella lot of time together. So fine. Sister came and took pictures of me when I told her not to, and we spend an entire night calling eachother's phones laughing hysterically and I was RATHER HOMESICK and IS THERE REALLY NO INTERNET IN THIS DAMNED VILLAGE?

Y'all. There wasn't. No internet.

After WELL OVER A WEEK, I finally made it home, but only after Mother had made me help her PAINT THE KITCHEN. There was never mentioned any painting of any kitchen when I was lured up to the cottage.

But I shall hold no grudges.

BUT! This lovely family vacation held just A TON of surprises and even an UNSOLVED MYSTERY! PAY ATTENTION, Y'all! It's like an episode of CSI except the investigators (me and Elvy) are TOTALLY and UTTERLY incapable of solving it. But we will get back to this at the end of...

The List Of Surprises Kirsti was exposed to during her FAMILY VACATION

1. Do you remember the CD's that Andy 'failed to return' that I had to go to Hamar to retrieve? That was the time when the taxi did not want to come even tho it was FOUR THIRTY ON A MONDAY MORNING AND HOW HARD IS IT TO GET A TAXI AT THIS TIME? Sorry.. I am still somewhat.. bitter. BUT! The CD's.. they were in this.. you know.. thing that you keep CD's in. What's it called? You all know what I mean. Ok. Then I got them back, or RECLAIMED them, or, if we are being literal, picked them off his desk and put them in my bag because as I was leaving maybe he was SLEEPING. Maybe. Anyhow. That whatchamacallit.. when I opened it, had an EXTRA CD in it! Yes! It was marked DJ. And I have been trying to think of any bands with the initials DJ? Can you think of any? Knowing Andy's taste in music, it is probably short for "Disc Jockey" this time. It would be.. odd.
I haven't yet listened to this CD, because it would ruin the exitement of wondering what it might be! Probably it contains 16 remixes of "Schnappi, das Kleine Krokodil".

This is not Le Grande Mysterie tho! Stay tuned!

2. A friend of mine called. I haven't heard from him for ages and ages and then. Brrring ring! There he was. Good old Patrick who argues with me about ANYTHING and does so with the passion and vividness that only a 41 year old ex-teacher can. Not my ex-teacher.
So we talked and he listened to me bitch about Andy and he kindly asked me if I was ever to write about anything BUT Andy in my blog, which I probably won't. This has a deep and philosophical meaning to it, which I won't bother to explain because you'd all think I was going soft. But the other reason is that he is just A BUNDLE OF FUN THINGS!
Patrick also explained to me that Baptists do not have sex standing because it could lead to dancing and that stopping being a teenager isn't a COMPLETE crisis(4 hours left!!! AAARRGGHHHH). Just a minor one that can be solved with copious amounts of vodka.
And who can refuse the advise of an ex-teacher and also an ARTEEST? Not me. So tomorrow the main goal is to be drunk before the 6 o'clock news. Teacher's orders.
Also.. that might not have been EXACTLY what he said, but I wasn't listening so I will assume that his advice was "Drink Smirinoff untill it pours out of your ears."

3. This kid, a boy, 18 years old.. has.. erh. Taken an interest to me. As in.. worshipping. And also, this guy. He is GUDD LUKKIN! Like. Whoa! And he lifts.. heavy things attached to a stick. And he's good at it. And tomorrow he will be in the newspaper with pictures and everything because HIS MUSCLES ARE SO NICE THAT THEY ARE IN THE PAPER! That is how hot this guy is.
So apparently, I possess the ability to charm this boy's pants off. Which is my intentions exactly. Shut up. HE IS LEGAL, ok? Oh, and Roger, when I say "charm his pants off" I mean "Tell him to go and find someone his own age." The rest of you, STAY TUNED FOR LISTS ABOUT 18-YEAR-OLDS AND MUSCLES! Ah, and also he might be a virgin, but this is unconformed and of no interest to anyone, and hehe, I have no intentions of starting to deflower 18-year-olds at the age of 20. No, no, no.

4. When I FINALLY came home on the BOAT and made my way home and I was SO EXCITED to be back on the innernet and tell y'all that I am alive and that I was only vacating with cows and sheep and farmers (in order of intelligence) and having a helluva time!!! And y'all. My internet? IT DID NOT WORK! IT WOULD NOT CONNECT! PANIC! PANIC! RED ALERT! COLOR CODE.. orange? blue? What is the most dangerous color on the Bush-panic-scale? Anyways, I WAS FREAKING OUT. My laptop just opened its little screen, looked lazily at me and yawned "No. laptop cannot find any wireless networks. Even if you are clearly PAYING for one in your VERY APARTMENT that you ARE IN NOW, I cannot find any available networks. Ok? Get over it."
So I had to find a CABLE and PLUG IT IN. And now I have to use WIRES to connect and it is SO 2004!! HAH! Worst surprise ever. It better work tomorrow by way of laptop's means of giving me a birthday present. Oh and also, laptop, I AM GIVING YOU TO MOTHER AND SHE IS BUYING ME A NEW ONE! That is what you get for not locating available connections! You will be given away to someone who thinks pounding on the touchboard is a good way of problem-solving.

5. People.. it's mystery time. Please help me solve this mystery! Ok. So I spent this week STARING at my phone, hoping that SOMEONE WOULD CALL ME. And you know, patrick did and 18-year-old-Wonderboy did. But then they stopped calling too. And I sat for HOURS staring at the phone and if I picked it up and called someone then THEY DID NOT PICK UP. By the end of this weekend everyone that I have ever encounered in the duration of the last 3 years had at least 4 missed calls from my number. Because I WAS BORED AND LONELY. And then, nature called, and I had to go to the bathroom, no, excuse me, OUTHOUSE, which is nothing more than a fancy hole in the ground. I was away for NO MORE THAN 3 minutes and when I was back. I had one missed call. Hah. GOOD FUCKING TIMING. One missed call from AMERICA, of all places. And one message on my answering machine sounding something like "GZZZZZ KWWWXXXXXZZZZ" ya know. Static. But after listening to this message of static and NOISE! OH THE NOISE! And now y'all, I am deaf. But! I decyphered it. And it goes "Kirsti! Hey I was just trying to get your home adress, wanted to send you a card or something for your birthday on Wednesday. Ok. Hope you're doing ok. Take care. Bye."
Notice something missing? Something.. that SHOULD have been there but is, unmistakeably NOT? An introduction? "Kirsti.. this is.." Yeah. I have NO IDEA who this is.

So I called Elvy. And asked her to look up the area code. According to her it was in Texas. Yeah.. who do I know in Texas? My ex-boyfriend is from Texas. BUT. Had it been him I wouldNOT be writing you a list about my vacation, I would be HYSTERICALLY writing about the coming Apocalyps and Armageddon and END OF THE WORLD and probably also the SECOND COMING OF JESUS CHRIST and whatever other prophets. Because this will ALL HAPPEN waaaay before Mr.Texan-ex remembers my birthday, AND my phone number AND cares to send a card "or something". Also the voice wasn't his.
The only other person I know from Texas is sarathena. And well... if that dark voice on the message is hers then I SURE don't want her to know my home adress. Freak.

3 days later and some research, the mystery American still has not called back and I have found out that the number is in fact from Florida. Well. If the mystery-man wants to send me a birthday card he now has 2 hours and 40 minutes to track down my adress.

Sigh.

Well well.Now I must go and aquire Smirinoff and warm up for my drunk-before-6-marathon tomorrow.

DO NOT REMOVE ME FROM YOUR BOOKMARKS! REPEAT DO NOT...

2005-07-26T16:51:00.000+02:00

I am here! I am alive!

I was KIDNAPPED!

By my own MOTHER. BY MY OWN BLOOD AND DNA.

She wanted to 'vacate' with me.

VACATE... in what I would refer to as a RATHER VERY FUCKING SHORT NOTICE.

So I have vacated and now I ran away. Because...

DO YOU KNOW HOW BORING THE NORWEGIAN RURAL COMMUNITIES ARE?

DO YOU?

Because I am painstakingly aware of this.

And

Also this vacation was full of surprises.

And after I have recovered I will write a LIST of SURPRISES and MYSTERIES.

Untill then, this is what you get

Pink & Purple. And also blue.

2005-07-17T21:27:00.000+02:00

Here I am. The blogger. The drinker. The Temptress of Catholics. The teenager. At least for another 10 days. Sigh. Holding back panic attack now. Little Satan herself. This is me.

Notice my purple lesbian porn hair. Also notice a pretty fucking BIG part of my bra that you can see if you know where to look. Utterly visible. For anyone to notice. Classy!
Please do NOT notice my eyebrows. This was not a good night for my eyebrows. But you may notice my blue eyes. They are blue, y'all.
And also notice the possition of my hand. It is like PERFECT. Looks like I was posing. But I was in fact not.

I was trying to listen to one of the speeches. Yes. This picture was taken at The Wedding.
And I was paying attention to the speeches and elegantly sipping white wine and the speaker is very relaxed and just the right amount of funny and the whole situation is VERY quiet and VERY formal when suddenly I hear "PSST! Kirsti" in one of them loud whispers that is not a whisper at all. And then there is a bright flash in my face just as I turn around to see what it is and it is Sister with her brand new digital camera and now she is looking around at everyone that are now looking at her and she has NO IDEA what could POSSIBLY have lead the attention from the speaker and onto her. Which is when I start laughing. This is the kind of sisters the bride is blessed with. We think maybe "etiquette" is a fancy car?

Also during the ceremony which was IN A CHURCH which is the HOUSE OF GOD, as the happy couple were saying their VOWS Sister is completely fixated upon her New Love, which is not her SEKRET BOYFRIEND this time, it is her new digital camera. Her new digital camera with SOUND. Her new digital camera with rather LOUD, ANNOYING sounds. And as the ceremony, which was rather NICE and I must admit pretty close to beautiful and maybe even touching, moves on and love is just filling up the air in the small, intimate chappel, sister is LOOKING THROUGH THE EXAMPLE PICTURES that are on her camera. Did I mention that this camera.. yeah this camera IT HAS SOUND EFFECTS!

"...take thee, Semi-Sister of Kirsti..." said the happy groom

"Sob. Sob. Whimper whimper. Sob" said 90% of the women present

"BIP! BIP! BIPBIP!! BIPPERIBEEP! BIP!" said Sister's camera.

"Sister... these people.. they are crying because this is the most perfect wedding ever and they CANNOT HEAR ANYTHING other than annoying bips!" whispered I, smoothly.

"Kirsti. They are crying because they missed today's episode of Days of Our Lives."

I am not as think as you drunk I am !!!

2005-07-17T03:36:00.000+02:00

(Upon reading this I realize that this post has some spoilers concerning the movie Sin City. If you have not seen it, go do so.)

I had a blast tonight!

Do you know how long it is since the last time I went out and had FUN. Like.. REALLY kick-ass fun. The kind of fun when you just look at your friends and they are awesome and you are like.. THE LORD IS GOOD! She granted me these awesome friends. And also She made Smirinoff! For me to drink. And Y'alll... tonight.. I have had SmirrEnough!

Heeeeeeh!

So. Short blog. It is .... 3.30 am. I think. I just wanna you know. Write while in a GOOD mood! As opposed to.. a... not so good mood.

I heart Smirinoff.

But. LIST! A different list tonight. I will.. write a list of suggestions for lists and then you can vote out the one you like the most.

The next time I get drunk I will write it out!

Also this list MIGHT relate to my night in some vague, INDIRECT ways.

Lists that I, Kirsti, should be punished to write after this night.

1. Reasons why someone as faint at heart as me should probably NOT see Sin City. Y'all.. There is a YELLOW MAN.... IN THEIR CAR!!! THAT IS WHY THE SMELL FOLLOW THEM TO THE HOTEL! HE IS IN THE CAR HE IS IN THE CAR!!!! BRUCE WILLIS, YOU ARE STINKING HOT AND A LIFE WITHOUT SLEEPING WITH YOU IS WORTHLESS, BUT I MUST TELL YOU!!!!!! THE YELLOW MAN IS IN YOUR CAR!!!!!!!!!

2. Reasons why... when you are STARVING... you should NOT go to the pizza buffet. Now my tummy aches. Too much ham and cheese and mushrooms. And salsa. let me hear you say MODERATION IS A SIN.

3. Reasons why STOPPING HITTING ON MEN 20 YEARS OLDER THAN ME... MIGHT BE A FUCKING AWESOME IDEA! But am I able to? No.

4. Multiple reasons why showing everyone in the girl's bathroom the SELECTIONS of condoms that you keep in your wallet MIGHT NOT BE GOOD FOR YOUR REPUTATION. But they were very impressed by my black condoms. They are awesome. And also they all liked my "Wanted: boys who do not lie" t-shirt. YA HEAR, ANDY? THAT IS ALL I ASK!

5. Why going to a gay bar with a female friend is maybe not so smart but hella fucking fun, especially when you hold hands and open her bra strap.

6. Why making out with your male, gay friend in a gay bar in front of every soul in the world AND their brother MIGHT NOT get you where you want. But it was hella fucking fun. Especially when directly after you proclaim "I am still better at it than you"

7. 100000 good reasons why I should maybe NOT call back the 18-year-old who wanted me to "call me after you go to bed tonight". But y'all... I will do it anyways. Blame smirinoff.

8. Why we all should lynch Blof Surfer for accusing me of writing long post. YO! I HAVE MORE TO SAY OKAY???

9. THINGS THAT I WILL SOON SAY... erm... I forgot the rest of this one

10. Good reasons NOT to water plants when you are in a sobriety-challenged state. Now... things are wet. EVERYthing is wet. Did you know that when the watering.. utensils break... they SPLASH? But it was ok, turns out I was trying to water my shoe. which is ok, really. I am thirsty.

11. Why Burger King should get a PRIZE for always being there for me in my drunken burger cravings. NOBEL PEACE PRICE

12. A number of ways in which Elijah Wood's character in Sin City freaked me out in EVERY FUCKING POSSIBLE WAY AND OH MY GOD I CAN'T EVER WATCH LOTR AGAIN I WILL SURELY DIE

13. The pretty picture of myself I will post next time I write.. soberer.

14. Amazing things I keep in my handbag

15. Reasons why I do not let my VERY shocked and appalled and ANGRY friend and also protective who knows EVERY DETAIL about things Andy did to me call him and tell him what she thinks about him. IN fact there's only one reason: I do not have his number anymore.

16. Reasons why it is MAYBE a very GOOD idea for me to GO TO BED now, even tho I will not get any sleep because I know for a fact that THE YELLOW MAN IS IN THE CAR HE IS IN THE FUCKING CAR THAT YOU ARE DRIVING AND IT.. OH GOD HE IS IN THE CAR!!! AND THE GLASSES! THE GLASSES! THE FUCKING GASTLY GLASSES!!!!!!!!!!!

HE IS IN THE CAR!! YELLOW MAN IN THE CAR!!!

Some Readers Might Find The Content Of This Post Disturbing, Part 1

2005-07-15T13:50:00.000+02:00

As I am writing this the contents of the apartment directly above mine is flying down right besides my right ear.

Apparently they are redecorating.

And what better way to get rid of the things you tore off your walls than throwing them out the window? Sending them sailing past my livingroom window, where I am sitting peacefully staring at the screen of my laptop when *woooosh!*. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it the suicidal man up on the 4th floor? NO! It is the dumbass people upstairs tossing heavy boards out the window out into the TRAFFICATED streets where people walk and children play and where I daily walk around without a care in the world because.. NO ONE would be DUMB ENOUGH to heave shit out the window directly down on my head now, WOULD THEY? Hahaha. No. I have no such retarded neighbours.

By the way, these are the same neighbours that woke me up at a VERY ungodly hour with their REDECORATING sounds. Not like hammering. Hammering is usual, people need to hammer in shit all the time. I can sleep through a good lot of bang-bang-bang (including bad sex). It wasn't drilling either. No, they were filing. Not like filing wood, like you do to say, wooden furniture, so you won't get a fucking splinter in your fucking finger every fucking time you touch the fucking shelf which MAY or MAY NOT be the case with a fucking piece of furniture I have in say, my BEDROOM. No. They were not filing wood. They were filing METAL.
Now. Let's imagine being woken up at 8am in your VACATION while you are trying to rest up after two very TIRING and soul-shaking weeks, to the SCRAPING sound of metal on metal. In the room RIGHT ABOVE YOURS.
These things they are now throwing out their window? It would be ISOLATION. And I, Kirsti, can bear witness to that this isolation was removed BEFORE they started the metal-killing-spree in the room above mine. But, I shall bear no grudge. In all my neighbourly friendlyness and love and care and goodness in my heart, and since they are so fond of the sound of METAL, I have a few good metal-rock-albums that I am gonna let them listen to at, say.. around 1am tonight.

Other than that people.. I have NOTHING to write about. My mind is empty. My Great Source Of Inspiration (aka Andy) has left for Sooht Dakutah. And I am left with no more dumbasses to write about. If I had known that this would happen I would have been at the airport the day he left screaming "ANDY DO NOT LEEEEAAAVVVEEEE MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOO!!!! YOU MAY NOT GO! IT WOULD RUIN MY BLO.. I MEAN LIFE!!!" with tears streaming down my face, mascara running, the whole nine yards, while desperately clinging to his feet all the way to the passport control, instead of standing on the pavement outside his house, stomping and screaming "WHERE IS THE TAXI THAT IS GONNA TAKE ME TO LONDON AND AWAY FROM YOU FOREVER?? I WANT IT HERE TEN MINUTES AGO!!!"

But ehh. Moving right along... I noticed some of you commented that the fighting with Mother and making out and livingroomfloor-sex could be read, or interpreted very.. wrong, by those of you with the FILTHIEST minds. SHAME ON YOU. Anyhow. I admit that the thought.. that you.. suggested.. I CANNOT WRITE IT OUT it would damage me forever. The ALTERNATIVE interpretation presented by audioholic and blog-surfer... it is MAJORLY disturbing. What I MEANT was I want a BOYFRIEND to have sex with on the livingroom floor because ONE CANNOT DO THAT TO ONE'S MOTHER. Ok? Cleared that up.
Anyhooooo... those comments gave me an idea for a LIST. That I will now present to you. Yes. Allow me to introduce to you

List of things that I find.. just a little.. DISTURBING.
(I have omitted obvious points, such as politics and Bush and Micheal Jackson and stuff, out of fear for redundancy.)

1. Y'all (Y'all!) know my brother-in-law? The fireman? Yeah, him. Ok, keep him in mind now. Story: There was this huge fire in Trondheim, in this furniture outlet.. big one. It burned down. Major fire. Huge. Now. Mister Brother-In-Law, he was on vacation while this happened. And Sister commented that he was lucky to be away on holidays when such a big fire happened. Whereupon he was SHOCKED and APPALED. He was in fact majorly dissapointed to have missed the fire, in fact he was sitting tuned, hoping, PRAYING that they would get short on men and have to call him back in.
So. Now you know. If your house burns down, not only will you have to deal with losing all your values, treasures, your comfortable BED and teddybears and maybe even your SHOES! (all in order of importance.) No, also you will have to get over the firemen standing around going "Weee!!! Look at it GO! MAN, am I glad I came to work TODAY!"
Firemen are not supposed to like fire! That is why they come to put it out! Begone, flames!
And what if the Norwegian Mafia sells me a nice pair of concrete boots and drops me off by the quai, not only will I have to get over being pulled out of the water by my Brother-in-law, the hero, and my hair being a COMPLETE MESS from all the water, but also my rescuers calling up the mafia all "AWESOME! Thanks guys! It was hella fun! Hey, next time, try to throw her further out so that we get to try our new boat!"
At least some of us have a job that they love.

2. The fact that the name "Little Satan" that was only supposed to be my petname for the graduation celebrations.. has kind of.. stuck with me. I cannot get rid of it. Which is.. well it is not a good name to have, yanno. What is my child has to grow up with a birth certificate that says "Father: Orlando Bloom. Mother: Little Satan" (Yes, I am convinced that I am gonna marry Orlando Bloom! It is written in the stars.) The even MORE disturbing fact is that people are finding MORE AND MORE reasons to why this lovely name is so appropriate on me. Like for instance this scene.

Place: Kitchen. People: Arnt, friend that I am constantly fighting with, minus the mad making out and floor-sex. Myself, covered in water that Arnt has lovingly poured down my cleavage. Andreas, Innocent bystander.
We are cleaning up after the kids have been there making "pizza"/a mess.

Kirsti: *throws some water after Arnt who manages to get away despite having a good grip on my wrist*

Andreas: I WILL NOT CLEAN THIS KITCHEN COUNTER! I DO NOT CARE IF YOU ASKED ME TO. I WILL PRETEND LIKE I DID NOT HEAR YOU!

Arnt: *Tries to bend me backwards over the kitchen counter*

Andreas: ...AND ALSO I FORGOT THAT YOU ASKED ME TO CLEAN IT AND ALSO I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO DO SUCH TOILING...

Kirsti: *Tries to get a knee between Arnt's legs while being pressed backwards at a 90 degree angle over the STILL DIRTY kitchen counter while screaming hysterically*

Andreas: ...PLUS THERE IS NOTHING TO CLEAN THE COUNTER WITH AND IT IS NOT ALL THAT DIRTY ANYWAYS!

Arnt: *Turns me the hell AROUND and tries to bend me over the kitchen counter*

Kirsti: NO!

Arnt & Andreas: ...No?

Kirsti: NOT JUST ANY MAN BENDS ME OVER THE KITCHEN COUNTER!!!

Andreas: I need to clean this kitchen counter RIGHT NOW and please do not notice how red my face is and you should BOTH know that I am completely comfortable with this kind of information.

Arnt: Only Andy?

Kirsti: NONOTEVENANDY! YOUWILLLETMEGORIGHTNOWIFYOUAREINANYWAYATTACHEDTOYOUR SCROTUM!

Arnt: Not even Andy? With his 20 years of experience?

Kirsti: *Free from the counter* 20 years experience? That means he would have had started at 13!

Arnt: Do you doubt it?

Andreas: *Singing* clean clean clean the kitchen counter.. look it is very clean and I am comfortable.. lalala I hear nothing over my singing lalalalalaLALALALA

Kirsti: He is a good catholic boy! They do not start at 13! He.. WAS.. a good catholic boy.

Arnt: Hahaha! Untill he met you! Haha! That is why they call you Little Satan!

Kirsti: What? Excuse..? As if.

Arnt: YOU LEAD CATHOLICS INTO TEMPTATION!

Kirsti: ...YES! THAT IS WHY!

Arnt: YES!

Kirsti: YES!

Arnt: ...YES!

Andreas: This is where I make my unnoted departure. And also I must remember to lock my door tonight and say 20 Ave Marias for protection.

This post is already getting far too long for one where I have nothing to write.. I will continue the list of disturbing matters later. When I am not so hungry. Now I have to go eat, shower and lead good catholics into temptation.

Now Accepting Applications

2005-07-11T23:25:00.000+02:00

Andy went back to the Good Old US of A. All the way to Soot Dakutah. Which is no fun at all. Who will entertain me now? I mean.. Andy... He was class A entertainment. Always had some stupid action to perform, ridiculous excuses to throw at me or some sentimental bullshit if he'd been drinking too much. CLASSY! Now who can I lean on? Whose back can I scratch? Whose feet shall I massage? I have no one. No one! Not since Andy, an eager candidate for the Man-Of-The-Year-Award watched helpfully as I hauled my VERY BIG AND HEAVY bag up the stairs from his little basement crib into the waiting cab that was NOT THERE to drive me to the train that was leaving VERY SOON and FUCK YOU HAMAR TAXI! FUCK YOU SO SO VERY MUCH! HOW HARD IS IT TO FIND AN "AVAILABLE CAR" AT 4.50am on a MONDAY MORNING?.. Where was I? Oh yeah.. Not since Andy ALLOWED me to contract hernia from the PILE OF BRICKS in my BAG that he elegantly handed me as I took my coat on, thank you Andy, have I had a male in my life that has been anything.. even alittle-tad-wee-bit more than a friend.

Speaking of Andy. I have not heard from him since the taxi arrived FIFTEEN MINUTES LATE and then I had FIVE minutes to make a train that was CRUCIAL in order for me to make the plane to London. His last words to me, in all seriousness was "Oh yes, I will DEFINITELY email you the VERY SECOND I get home. I PROMISE."
I mean. We all have learned the meaning of an Andy-promise. But I thought that he would email me at SOME POINT. ESPECIALLY since the last thing he knew was that I was in London. And he did not know how long I was gonna be there. He did NOT KNOW that I was home at the time of the bombings. Which I am glad that I am. I told him that I was going to London on VACATION several times, yet somehow he thought that I was moving there when I went now. Yes, Andy. I am moving to another COUNTRY for THREE YEARS with nothing but ONE (big, I confess, but still) RED BAG and my purse. "I thought maybe you were going back up to Trondheim to pick up your stuff?" says Andy. "So I brought a BIG, HEAVY red bag just to spend HALF A NIGHT with you?" asked I. "Well I don't KNOW!!!" Iddjot! (Info for the not-knowing, I am in September moving to England, Stoke on Trent, not London, to get edumucated and read your mind. Andy knew this, he asked me many times and I said "not until September. September is after August and before October. September is after you leave. September is after you have started teaching again mister teacher man. You know when schools start, YOU WORK IN THEM!") Anyhoo...
Yeah. He hasn't mailed me yet. The city that FOR ALL HE KNOWS I am STILL IN gets bombed and HE DOES NOT EVEN ASK.
I mean. We didn't have any Le Perfique Lurve Story Deluxe... or anything more than sex, actually. But one would THINK that he would CARE to at least send a FEW LINES to make sure. Am I being selfish now? All you perfect people that I love more than breath, YOU all wrote me, comments or emails, to make sure. And y'all haven't even had sex with me!
I mean... every relationship, friendship or any form of love or caring, it boils down to this... IF THERE WAS A SLIGHT CHANCE OF ME BEING STUCK IN A BURNING TRAIN WRECK... WOULD YOU CARE TO SEND A *SMALL* EMAIL... you know.. JUST TO BE SURE?

Apparently not.

So. I am looking for someone else.

Someone better.

And here is your opportunity to apply! Are you not the lucky ones!? Both males and females can apply. (HAH! Bet y'all didn't know that about me!) Except I have kind of found someone and he is... so good. So good. But if I spend eternity with someone as good and kind as he is.. what the hell will i blog about? So in the name of blogging, it is smart to apply people! I am one good catch! I am smoking hot (of course) and a good cook and smart and funny and I know how to keep a man happy! And more!!! But that is for me to know and you to find out! But YOU! You need to meet some criterias. And here is the SEKRET LIST! The list every man with a pulse and a brain is just ACHING for. The list that all the drysticks in FBI have been searching for for YEARS now.. yes.. it is the much longed for list of...

What Kirsti Is Looking For In A Partner

1. Must hold hands. Because holding hands is nice. Not all the time. Not like "we are glued together" holding. Just.. fingers are sensitive. Hold them damnit.

2. Must enjoy comics and cartoons. It is a must. Well.. the partner doesn't have to love it.. just don't give me a hard time if he walks in on me watching Tom&Jerry. In my heart, Cartoon Network is sacred. They send good shit. My grownup brain needs a rest sometimes!
Also my... whole.. house... It might be filled up with magazines full of "comic strips". The ratio of serious science magazines, that I ALSO READ, DAMNIT, to cartoon ones.. is something like...1 to 1000000. So shut up. It is ART. The ART of drawing and making me laugh. It is not so easy to do!

3. Playfights. They cannot be forgotten. These are a necessity for me. As of now, only Mother wants to fight me. Because I have some "ugly tricks" that might put some people off. But Mother's tricks.. they are much worse. We start bickering over the remote control or a magazine or something and I try to snap it out of her hand and tickle her into submission and before I know it she is holding my head under the faucet trying to pour water into my nose which means I have to force her to the floor and try to push her under the couch which is where our guests start to say "erm... yeah. Time to leave. If we don't call it's because we are.. busy. With.. washing our hair" and I yell "FINE! Just lift them feet, they're in the way. I am trying to slide a fighting mother under the couch you are sitting on!"
Only bad thing about fighting with Mrs. Mum is that it doesn't end in passionate making-out and hot sex on the living-room floor. Which would just be awesome.

4. Must not lie. Only exception is when I ask "does this look fat" "do you ever look at other women" "am I the hottest girl you know?" and the like.

And that's it. Please include pictures with applications and state when you are available for an interview.

The Streets of London

2005-07-01T01:14:00.000+02:00

Did you know my cheap-as-dirt-hotel has internet? Because people, it does. For only ONE British pund per hour. POund? Pund? Pond? That... Stirling shite. Things. Yeah. One of those for one hour. And. Well London is almost over and the cute children going to camp is almost here. Almost. So close.

And since I am loving London as always, and since there are too many tourists here (such as myself) as always, and since I would rather whine than tell you what a good time I am having, I am gonna make you alittle list. If you would like to read about my good times in London, please look under bars, plenty or drinking, excessive or boys, fucking hotassgetthemclothesofanddomenow-hot and also hotel, cheap.

But anyhow, just in the spirit of eternal complaints I will try to stay positive and SOLUTION FOCUSED and I present:

Big list of suggestions for improvements that could be doen to make London just alittle better.

1. Streets. Wider. Move the fucking buildings, I don't CARE. I am WALKING here and I do not want to be hit by a car up on the PAVEMENT because Hi, This street is NO MORE THAN 5 INCHES, and also it has SIX LANES and no one really knows what direction one should drive in any of these lanes. Please fix it so I can come home alive. It would make my mother happy.

2. You know the Dali museum? Or the thing. Dali's world or whatever? Down by the... Water? River. Yes. It's there. It's a huge building with Dali stuff. And he... he was a cool man. But the place goes almost unnoticed. It drowns beneath the London eye and everything else down there. That place needs some razzle-dazzling. Dali should get snoop dawg to Pimp My Museum. Because it deserves more attention than it gets. Maybe if they made it neon green. And made a banner that said "WHO'S YOUR DALI?" then more people would be able to go there.

3. There need to be less hot men in suits. I am going nuts here. I have to turn my head after every man I see. Men in suits = so hot. So hot. There is no need to wear a tie every day. It could get you a severe neck injury as I violently grab it and pull you to me so I can fondle you. Suits.. so hot.

4. If a tourist is too stupid to understand the underground transport system then they should not be allowed to leave home. Period. You can't ASK people every time you're going somewhere. EVERY TIME we're at a station someone comes up to us "Is this the train to Ye Ole' British Town?" It is PRETTY FUCKING WELL MARKED UP. Ok. Learn how to read. Or contact the information desk.

5. British keyboards. This one is driving me nuts. Improve it. Please. I cannot find a single key. Something is weird about it. Like I couldn't find the accent in Dali. I know there's an accent over the i, so don't EVEN leave a comment bitching about that. This keyboard = hard to type on. I keep writing weird shit so.. there's probably a bunch of errors in here, just laugh at them, ok? I am very tired and I am leavign tomorrow. Soooo.

Yeah. Camp next. Hooray. See y'all July 11!

Hi. I am.. Online!

2005-06-24T01:46:00.000+02:00

Thanks to my sister's helpfulness and my mad hax0ring skillz. 1ee7, folks!
Because I am at my sister's place now. And sister.. works for a very cool company. It is a most excellent job. They sell domains. More so, they are responsible for the .no domains. The Norwegian .no domains. I think Norway has the best domain ever. And sister sort of controls it, just a little. Doesn't that kick ass? Her job is almost kooler than the girl herself. But of course I am lying because it is not even close. My sister is betterer than anyone else. Well almost anyone. I mean I don't wanna put Mildred or poor Al-benny in the shade like that. But you get the point. Sister = Kool.

Back to my sister's innernet. Her job, her INTERNET job, provides her with innernet at home. Yes, goddamit. And of course this innernet connection would then not be open to other computers, such as my humble laptop that I have brought along. But Sister hooked it up so I could just "plug it in and connect" after having provided her with addresses to my computer that I have never heard of before. IP? Gotcha. Mac..adress? Mock? What?
So I found those.. Did you know there's a MS DOS command for that? And I got here, and I "plugged it in and connected" ..Not. No. There was no connection. Plug'nPlay my ass. So for the TWO LAST DAYS I have been SWEATING and TOILING to GET CONNECTED. Which finally, I have. After doing something I have NO idea what was, but I pressed something and some program started and I pressed next and next and next and Finish and suddenly.. Innernet. Plugged in and connected. So here I am with exciting pre-London posting. But I'm still kind of caught up with the whole.. I got connected thing. Since I was DENIED ACCESS and suddenly I am in.. I feel like I have HAX0RED the entire .no domains. Which I haven't, I'm only on a stupid LAN connection that my laptop was probably not set up to accept. But people.. the FEELINGS, the EMOTIONS of having gained pretend-access to the .no-control-boards! Yes! Excitement!

Do you KNOW what exciting things my sister gets to do in her job? Except from being yelled at by Americans that forgot to renew their contracts to keep their Norwegian .no sites? She can DELETE pages! YES! Once she took away www.bigimportantairplanecompany.no. Yes, sorry. No more internet bookings. Should have paid your bills!
And they threatened to take www.HUGEinternationalcompanythatallofyouseeandprobablyuseeveryday.no too! But those guys saved their domain at the last second.. waaay overdue. Yupp. They can advertise and kill competitors all over the world. But can they pay bills on time? Hellll .no!

So anyways, here's for rambling on about my internet connection. I am considering registering www.justsay.no or www.howbout.no. Maybe I can get those as a birthday present?

I have nothing to say.. really. I'm just so excited about having gotten online after TWO WHOLE DAYS WITHOUT INNERNET. I feel like I've been living in a cave for a month. "You might be addicted when..." I had e-mails waiting for me damnit. And wish-lists to make for my 20th birthday that MIGHT NOT BE SO FAR AWAY, PEOPLE. I am getting old and you should comfort me. *cough* shoes *cough*. And.. here's just a random list. I have NOTHING to write people. I have NOTHING.

Random things that I just feel like telling you.

1. Hmmm. I am scared of scary movies. Yes. Duh. But not so much only that. Because maybe.. just maybe.. it's 2am, and one little girly is still not in bed because she saw the trailer for a rather CHEESY, not so scary horror-movie to anyone else. Maybe this trailer scared this girl so much that she is... NOT COMFORTABLE with going to bed before she has looked at many pictures of pretty flowers on the internet. Maybe not. I don't know.

2. My sister is in Dublin.. to see U2 and to.. vacate. And she is also looking for a handbag. Slash purse. Yes. Which is cool you know. But.. Yeah. We must all.. put our little heads down and send supportive and compassionate thoughts to her friend that has to handbag-shop with her. Because when sister is buying something? She will not buy just any old thing that she likes! No! Sister will buy the thing she likes the MOST. Literally. She will not buy ANYTHING untill she has seen them all. I have myself committed the terrible error of going shoe-shopping with her.. and WOE. WOE AND MISERY. I was begging her to just PLEASE let me get HOME I am crying on an open street and in all seriousness, she does NOT need to see every shoe in town.. because people. Trondheim. It is a big city, considering. It has to have enough shoes in it to keep 150, 000 people shoed. And before sister buys one pair of these, she needs to see EVERY SHOE THERE IS. Every bloody store in a 10 mile radius. After 5 hours of LOOKING you start begging. At that time even I am tired of shoes. You just hold up the shoe closest to you and press out these words, sounding like a dying hero "..this... This is the shoe for you. Please.... please buy it. Here, I will pay. I don't care. Please.. just PICK A PAIR. I will pay.. I will buy you a shiny new car. Just please... get me out of this misery." Then you faint on the floor from sheer exhaustion and over-shoe-exposure.
And Sister looks at the shoes and sniffs and say "Sister doesn't know.Maybe. Sister will have to think. I will keep them in the back of my mind. Now start breathing again so we can move on. Also you will have to stop bleeding from the eyes right now, I wanna catch 89 more stores before they close."

3. Related to this, before she left for Dublin, sister had some difficulties finding a suitcase for her travel. We did not understand this, being as suitcases.. they are not so hard to find. In any price range. So why did not sister find a suitcase, after having had me drop by her work to give her money because on the day she was gonna shop for it... she LEFT her visa card at home,why so much effort for nothing? Because.. the suitcase she wanted.. the ONLY suitcase in the WORLD that she would even CONSIDER buying? Small enough to pass as hand luggage. Fair enough. It had to be hard. Ok, sounds smart. Oh, and also, it had to be MINT GREEN. My sister would rather travel with all her clothes in a PLASTIC BAG than buying a suitcase in ANY OTHER COLOR than Mint Green. So she bought no suitcase. And how the got her clothes from Trondheim to Dublin is a SHEER MYSTERY, but rumors have it someone's Mother, possibly ours, had to drive to her apartment VERY LATE AT NIGHT with a temporary solution. Namely our black suitcase that is neither small, hard nor mint green.

4. This one is not for the faint at heart, but S-S should love it. You know how.. lately I have been having alittle.. sporadic contact with a.. erm. Partner. I will not mention the name anymore because I am tired of saying/writing it. And y'all (I said y'all!) realize that this "partner" really for me, turned into a fucking good friend, and little more. And what said partner wants.. is a mystery that my humble mind, after endless efforts, have given up uncovering.
But imagine that you have such a partner. And you are having.. adult relations. And you are enjoying it a lot, in fact you are enjoying it so much that you are very damned close to a climax, because your partner is nice like that. And right before said climax, this SONG pops into your head. Yes. A SONG. Not just any song. No. A song that goes "Africa.. AAAAFRICA!" And that is all your mind is thinking of. So as your body is reaching pleasure-peak, your mind is happily playing "Africa... AAAAFRICA!" over and over. And say that when you.. Climax... and say that you are a loud person and that you uncontrollably scream. And say that the thing your body wants to scream is what is in your head, which is not "YES!" nor "F*CK!" this time. No. It is "Africa... AAAAFRICA!" And say when you open your mouth.. this might be what you scream. And say you make a VERY narrow escape and manage to turn it into "AAAAAAFFFFF.......UCK!"
Did this ever happen to you? Yes? So I am not the only one! This is a BIG relief to me. I am not crazy after all!

5. You know these 2 days? Without internet? And without company? And without seeing my friends? Like AT ALL? When I am used to doing all these things PLENTY, EVERY DAY... You know then? Then I get BORED as a motherfucker! And what is there to do?
Watch TV. Do you know what is on TV that is fun to watch, and is always on when you wanna see it? You know what just pops up on the screen when you sit down and want to be entertained? You know is on TV that is not a re-run and is not mindnumbingly boring and/or stupid? You know what that it?
NOTHING. That's what that is. Death to television. Damnit. TAKE MY GODDAMN MTV! TAKE IT ALL! I don't want it anymore. Give me my DVDs and a playstation any day.

And.. LONDON CALLING! Soon! Coming up!

Oh, and do you know how Andy (wait, I was tired of writing that) told me to come see him? And how I have tickets to make a RATHER LONG STOP in the little dump, excuse me TOWN, that he lives in? You know that? And you know how now... he is NOT ANSWERING MY MESSAGES? You know how this AGGRAVATES ME? Because it does. Send Angry Thoughts.

Your point, please?

2005-06-21T22:55:00.000+02:00

My mind is still on the wedding. Sort of. Since you sweet, sweet people keep on coming with nice comments and your thoughts about weddings. It's very nice. I appreciate every comment I get, thank you so much. You lovely people.

But yes. Me. Still thinking about wedding. You know when you go to these family get togethers. And there are family there that KNOW YOU but you are CERTAIN you have never met these people before. So then I think.. Screw it. I will pretend like I know them too. And walk up to a woman and she talks to my sister and sister knows her, so I go "HEY! Nice to see YOU again!". You know, like she is the most important person in my life and I have thought of nothing else but her since I last saw her. After which she looks at me like I just told her that Jacko got acquitted and Bush got re-elected (hey.. wait..) and then she says "I don't think we've met? My name is [insert name that Kirsti immediately forgets]" Of course I had to bump into the ONLY person there that did not care to pretend to know me. BUT, she proved to be one of the loudest criers.. so I'm glad she denied all knowledge of me beforehand. Things Work Out Sometimes.

But anyhow. You know how these people want to engage in conversations with you. Interesting conversations. That leads to NOTHING. Conversations kept alive on the sole basis of "If this ends then we both have to sit alone by our tables for 2 more hours and WE ARE STARTING TO LOOK PATHETIC!". So you discuss your work "Wow.. Forensic psychology.. that is so interesting", your relations to the happy couple "You are not her sister! She is sister-less!", your life in general "I noticed you are sitting with your sister.. do you not have a boyfriend then?" (Asked to me by EVERY *female* in the goddamn wedding. Thank you for reminding me of this. No, I do not have a steady boyfriend, and I do not wanna get married within the next 20 years or so. "Oh, 20 years. Gosh.." They said as they slowly backed away.)
My POINT is, these things.. they are so pointless. And also, like Jeff POINTED out, we are all so styled up and dressed in uncomfortable clothes. And all we want to do is "hook up" or in my case "go home" and "get away from all these crazy people" or "get over myself and try to socialize. No sorry, not an option."

What I am trying to get to, ironically, is how annoying it is to me that some things? They have no point at all. They try to make themselves.. so important. But in all seriousness... THEY HAVE NO POINT AT ALL! None!

A... Yes, you got it, LIST, of things that I think is MINDNUMBINGLY pointless.

1. "Street fighting"-Martial Arts. I have the upmost respect for those.. Judo and.. Tae Kwan Do and Tae Kir Sti and whatnot.. that are ancient fighting sports from Japan or outer Mongolia and where else.. They teach respect and peace in your soul and peace on Earth and hand on heart, I believe these do a helluva lot good for the kids that do it. They only teach self-defense which is nice to know when you are a cute girl (such as ME) who is walking home alone late at night.
But there is a NEW, KOOL thing on the block. Taught street fighting. Yes. Awesome. It is a.. set up "defense" thing for.. yeah. Street fighting. I think this... this is not so good. A friend that is deeply into this demonstrated it to me. They have like.. Routines for imaginary fights. You know, in case someone pulls them into an ally and starts a fight with them. It happens. Of course I hope this person who starts the fight knows the routine too! Because the routines are made after responses to what the other person does. And well.. they just kind of decided what the other fighter will POSSIBLY do. Literally, the demonstration went like this "He does this.. and then I do this.. and then he comes like this.. and I give him THIS! WUUU-YA!"
Doesn't sound very realistic to me. Where is the part where they pull a knife/gun on you? Why would they pick a fight with you in the street for no reason?
I have decided to start my own Street fighting school. I will teach how to turn over your wallet without a fight, not to keep too much cash with you at any time and how to run away in zig-zag. Oh, and also "How to NOT join a gang" "how to scream for help REAL LOUD" "how to not walk alone late at night".

2. Censorship. Really. What is the difference between Fuck and F*ck? Everyone is gonna understand what I mean if I write F*ck. No one's kids will have a better childhood because of one asterisk. No. No one. And the same with sex. I'm not saying they should show hardcore porn flicks on ABC at high noon, although I would not so much mind. Just how they shield the kids from sex.. some schools won't even teach sex-ed. Not good. The more taboo something is, the more tempted everyone is gonna be to try it. If marital sex was outlawed the divorce rate would go down drastically.
It has the opposite effect. You know how, when something is blacked out on the TV, how you try your FUC.. excuse me, F*CKING best to see what it is? Even when they cover labels on MTV, oh trust me, I will find out what it is and I WILL BUY THAT F*CKING SHIRT. Just out of fuck*ng spite. Does anyone, EVER, feel any better because there is a little black dot on the TV? Or because of a single, innocent *? I'm not saying swearing is good, because it is bad! BAD! But if we're gonna do it, might as well do the real thing, mmmkay?

3. Going to IKEA (you know what it is, no?) with the intent to "just look". Like me and Mother did today. Yeah. We came out with a lot. We now have blanket #14 for our small living room. It was LIGHT blue and we only had dark blue and sky blue already, ok? We needed LIGHT BLUE. Also we bought towels #241, 242, 243 and 244. When we got home we had towel #245 with us too, we don't really now how they got in there. And also "marguerita" glasses for me and my blender-mania, that I hysterically carried through the store screaming to little kids "YOU WILL NOT BREAK MY GLASSES OR I WILL BREAK YOUR FOOT!". Them were some nice glasses! Oh and also spotlights. Because... Well in case it got dark. And of course something for the kitties. And some stuff we don't really know what is yet, but.. well we had to buy it, we are pretty sure it's real neat! Also it was on sale. Why would one go to a store just to look anyways? Who are we kidding?

4. Women's relationship to shoes. I used to have 3 pairs of shoes. Every day shoes, running shoes and pretty-shoes. Then the... women/shoe bacteria bit me. And.. why? WHY? Can we get so obsessed with SHOES?! Except they are pretty! And they should match the outfit. And also we need comfy shoes and pretty shoes and these are hardly the same. Today outside Ikea.. mother complained about taking on her "hurt-shoes" without thinking about going shopping after work. Yes. We have shoes that we KNOW will hurt us, but we put them on regardless. Hell, in the store, before we buy them we KNOW they they will hurt so much that we will wonder if our feet are still one piece inside the shoes. But hell, they look SO GOOD! And they match my NEW top! And they're on sale damnit! One can buy anything on sale. It's my prerogative. But the point of walking around cursing under your breath because it feels like walking on COAL? It's beyond me. But they make me look SO cute!

5. Writing a blog entry about pointless things when your mind is numb and you can't think of anything.

You all need to prepare yourself for a... Kirsti dry-spell. I am going to London. Then I am going to volunteer at a camp. For children. From not-too-good backgrounds. So I can do good things that week and go back to live normally, Kirsti-style the rest of the year without feeling bad or sinful. I am a saint.
I will try to get in one post next week.
After that.. I am gonna go see Andy for a few hours. YESSHUTUPIKNOW! It is bad. But I shall not rationalize. Just add it to my pointless-list.

#6: Visiting people that you are finally halfway over and make sure to reopen any feelings you had for them before they travel to another continent and stay there for you to never see them again, most likely. I have a right to do so, damnit.

And then.. we could also add..

#7 Going all the way to fucking London to get drunk when we could just as well do it in Norway. Here. In my very livingroom.

But PEOPLE! It's LONDON! All the hot British guy with no pants OR trousers!
Anyhow, one more post and then this little girl goes to have fun!

Now don't tell me there's no point in that!

Aren't Weddings Just Effin' Wonderful?

2005-06-19T12:27:00.000+02:00

Yesterday my sister got married. Half sister. We are very happy for her, finally finding her prince and they are so in love and yada yada.
And she was the prettiest bride. Well, she's always the prettiest girl in the room wherever she is. Apparently she got all the pretty-genes. I'm left with the.. uh.. other, more useless genes. Damn these sisters, running away with all the good genes. And of course the groom looked very handsome in his tuxedo... But, hear ye, all males. Those striped pants that come with tuxedos, yanno? Them buttugly, ridiculous pants? Yeah those. Refuse. Just say No. No striped pants, ok? The tux was designed by some male-hating turbo lesbian, I swear. Would it KILL them to change it to normal, black slacks? Instead of clown pants? (and for all ya Brits out there, I am talking about TROUSERS, not underpants.)
But anyways, he is a fireman and.. like.. one of those guys that dive in after ya if you turn your steering wheel to the right and the road turns to the left and also on the right there is a lake and now your feet are starting to get wet. It happens to the best of us.
And if I ever get taken by the Mafia and they donate a pair or concrete boots to me and then takes me swimming in the FJORD... Hell, my brother in law has got my BACK! I am no longer worried about the Mafia now! So this means I can reopen all my connections to the Badass Norwegian Mafia! Of course, I am counting on the Mafia guys calling up mister brother-in-law to report it. "Compadre, we just dumped her by dock 7 on the quay! Yes, right where Al-Benny was." And then I would be saved in no time at all.
So, my point is: I am very happy for them and glad to have him in the family blahdiblah.

But the wedding? Not so enthusiastic.

I mean.. You read the reasons I never get invited to parties? Because I am not a social person. I love going out with my friends and all.. but I don't like making NEW friends at parties. Because.. it's noisy. And I do NOT like noise. People yelling in my ear "I DON'T THINK WE'VE MET!!!!" just... yeah, it's not my way of life. It's also funny to go to a wedding as the bride's sister when no one knows she has a sister, let alone 3. "You are her SISTERS?! No, she doesn't have any sisters." And then they look around for the bouncer just as I say "Yes she does! Half Sisters. We have the same father." And since all these distant, distant relatives of the groom knows the bride so, so well they play the "her father is dead" card. "Yes but he made us BEFORE he died!"
Is there ANYONE other than me that thinks this was rather rude? What if I walked up to a friend of the groom and said "No no, he doesn't HAVE any friends! You WEDDING-CRASHER!"

Speaking of friends of the groom.. Y'all know how firemen tend to be.. not bad looking? I mean if you are female and you did not design the tuxedo and you see a firetruck, you DO peep in to see if there are any hot firemen in there, undressing.
And you know how good looking guys tend to have other good looking friends? And you know how friends tend to come to eachother's wedding? And you know how all these friends came with WIVES AND CHILDREN? No? Because they did. Because the groom doesn't have any SINGLE friends.
Also you know how in a gang of goodlooking, cool friends, there is always the odd one out? That is not so goodlooking and not so cool. And you know how he was the one that spent a CONSIDERABLE amount of time talking to me? About a big project he has going with a fruit cooler. Yes. A "fruit cooler". If any of you pretty people ever hear about a BIG INVENTION from Norway concerning a BRILLIANT way of cooling fruit, then SEND HIM A THOUGHT. Because it was invented by a friend of his. No not by him, a friend of his. An old man with gray hair. Keep your eyes open people! Revolution on the way!

And do you know how this post has not seen a list yet? I will make one up NOW.

Other things I just LOVE about weddings:

1. How people... Cry. And sob. You know as the bride walks in and every female lip in the chapel just starts trembling. I mean there was not just tear shedding, they was SOBBING. And I know it's so beautiful that they met and they were both having a hard time in life and they made it through TOGETHER and now they are happy. But PLEASE. Shed a tear quietly! Literally, I could not hear the wedding vows out of sheer whimpering-noise. Loud sobs were being dramatically choked, shoulders were bopping, kleenexes were flying all over the place. Seriously girls, if you cannot see a woman in a white dress without crying aggressively, then you SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO LEAVE THE HOUSE.
Oh and also how the groom's mother held a speech and completely broke down bawling. And then was fine 10 seconds later to finish the speech. Drama queens.

2. How at weddings one wears PRETTY SHOES! That hurt! And now my feet are a PRETTY shade of blue! I love shoes but shoes do not love me back :(

3. You know in American movies? Where there are certain stereotypes that we laugh at? Because they are annoying to the main character and it's funny? Well imagine that you are at a wedding and ALL THESE CHARACTERS ARE REPRESENTED. Not the sweet main character. No. All the annoying ones. With annoying children. I can't really blame them tho, because I fit in under one of these too. You know how there is always one girl sitting at a table by herself trying to force a smile. Yes, this is me. Except in the movies some goodlooking guy comes over to her and is all "you hate weddings as much as me?" and she goes "twice as much" and they laugh and totally hit it off and the next wedding is theirs and they laugh at how they met. Hah, at that point the American movies are mindnumbingly inaccurate. But they are spot on with all the annoying characters.

4. How the annoyingness of these characters for the main part has to deal with my problems with crowded rooms, that make me extremely stressed and aggressive, and not with their personalities. And how this particular wedding had A FUCKING LOT OF PEOPLE, in a rather small room with a band that played music VERY LOUD FOR SUCH A LITTLE ROOM. And I hate noise. I am pathetic.

5. How I am sitting peacefully on the toilet.. Doing what one does after having been drinking a large amount of PEPSI, since one cannot drink alcohol. And how someone tries the door and find it locked. Because hi, I am here and I think I might stay. Here it is quiet. And how someone starts KNOCKING ON THE DOOR. Not like one or two raps, but non stop, continuously knocking. And then I think; holy shit, someone's gotten sick and of course I try to finish as fast as I can because being sick when the bathroom is ...not available... It is no fun. So i try to wash my hands and flush and fix my clothes all in one fluent motion, and run out literally holding my skirt in place with my hands. Only to find the groom's 8 year old daughter. In perfectly fine condition. She just wanted to get in fast I assume. Because her bathroom business is more important than any others. And this happened at ONE THIRTY in the AM! 8 years old! Oh, if I did not have to hold on to my skirt to save honor and grace, I would have sent her to sleep RIGHT THERE.

6. Did I mention the NO SINGLE FRIENDS thing?

And that's it, folks!

I hope y'all come to my wedding when that time comes! I will provide kleenexes!

Little Known Facts About Kirsti

2005-06-17T23:02:00.000+02:00

Y'all.. I know I did the quiz and all. But I feel like you all just don't really KNOW me. You know.. like know-know me. I mean.. answer this: If you were buying me lunch, what would you get? That's right. YOU DON'T KNOW. (And don't you try to safe it with pizza. You little sneaks!)
So to make it easy for you, I have made for you... a list of things about me. Yes. Hooray! Now you can read up on fact about me, and maybe one or two of you would like to write your thesis on me. Or maybe just a research paper. Or maybe you would like to hire me? Maybe so!!

Great List Of Little Known Facts About Kirsti

1. I am convinced that a ghost lives in my bathroom. Yes. The Great Shower Ghoul. I don't know. It resides behind the bathroom door, I am certain of it. Truly, it freaks me out. When I go in there I get this feeling of not being alone. It's gotten to the extent of me having to just run in, grab my toothbrush and get the hell out. And brush my teeth in the kitchen. Plus all those other.. nightime things. Shower? I only do that when it's daylight. One does not shower at night. I swear, I will draw aside the shower curtain and find the girl from The Exorcist in there. That bathroom is CURSED.

2. I do not learn names. I forget names. Just like that. There are two friends I have... One's name is Tina, the other Suzanna.. and they look completely different. And I? Cannot learn which one is Tina and which one is Suzanna. I have known them for almost 4 years now, admittedly I don't see them all THAT often.. but I just NEVER learned. They told me MANY times. But I just don't-- register it. And also, I am mortally afraid of moaning the wrong name in bed or something. Because I have done this while making out with someone. Yes. The name of his BEST FRIEND came out. The best friend that I HARDLY KNOW.
I just mix names up real bad.
Funnily enough I constantly mix up Elvy with Whisky. Now.. Elvy = friend from school. Whisky = my CAT. And this is not funny when you are telling everyone a story about how your cat was so cute last night and cuddled up to you in bed, and you mixed the names. And tell everyone your female friend curled up to you in bed last night. And I was wondering why all the guys were so interested in a story about my cat.
I am NOT a name person.

3. I forget things that I've said the second I say them. Litterally, when the other person answers I will have forgotten entirely what my question was. Of course I will not admit this, no no. A girl has PRIDE. I will just make up some response and throw it out, without the faintest CLUE what we are talking about. And forgot that one too a nanosecond later. This, of course, makes a conversation with me rather... interesting. And with "interesting" I mean "mindnumbingly annoying for the other person". Here is an example:

Kirsti: Hey, did you read that book I told you about?

Friend: Yes.

Kirsti: *blank stare* (...) Yes. Yes I think so too.

Friend: You think WHAT?

Kirsti: I think...? Think? Erm... About that thing you said?

Friend: Fuck you. Stop talking to me.

This is why I love the written word so much.

4. My CD-collection? Is all bought for $5 and down. I only buy music on sale. Which means that I have only crap CDs. And I LOVE them. I love them so much. I will listen to the WORST, lamest, poor excuses for music ever made, and it makes me happy. Nothing like some Vanilla Ice when the days go rough. Or the best of MC Hammer! How bout we put on some Westlife? They crack me up. I mean, NOTHING is such good humor as bad music. It's all so funny to me.
Did you ever hear of the very successful boyband of Take 5? My favourite band. In the entire world. Shake it off!!

5. I am a binge eater. But not just any kind of binge eater. No, no. I do not hit the cakes hard. Not at all. I am healthy. I don't like chocolate much, really. So what do I binge eat? What do I occationally eat unbelieveable amounts of? Fruit. Yes. Especially nectarines, grapes and mandarines. And how do I prefer this fruit to be? Ripe? No! Ripe fruit is for pussies! I eat insane amounts of far-from-ripe fruit in one night. Which then leads to just as insane stomach aches. But I never learn, oh no. Because fruit is good for you, no?

6. I can remember a 34-digit number I've only been shown once. But I can't learn the date of my mother's birthday. That's just how it is.

7. In my world, none of the following will EVER be accepted as sport: Shopping, Cheerleading, any form of card games, chess, crocket, cricket (It's a GAME! An Indian GAME!), rugby (It's a FIGHT!), Pool, Snooker (if you're particular about those two), cooking, mothering ("Oh parenting is an extreme sport, let me tell you"...does it annoy you too?) ..I'm sure there is more.

Well that's all for now.. but if it's well accepted maybe I'll make a "Little Known Facts About Kirsti II"! Hell. I'll do it anyways, no matter what you think! Now I have to go fight ghosts in the bathroom.

...what did I just say I had to do?

For Those Of You With A Husband To Make Happy

2005-06-16T02:43:00.000+02:00

You know how summer is coming and everything? And the pretty flowers? And yay.. spring and now it's summer and we are happy. This you think to yourselves as you run in your pretty white dresses around in the flower fields with your pet of choise by your side. I hope you are all doing this! At least those of you that don't have allergies. As for me and jeannabelle, we are gonna have to stay indoors and play yatzee. And eat non-dairy products. And tofu. But the rest of you! Enjoy!

Because here? With me? It is not so fun. And that is why I do not have a very funny, creative list this time. There is just... no real understanding as to how much not-fun I am having right now.

Before you all ask and start moaning, no it has nothing to do with Andy. Andy can sail his own sea. With my CDs. I hope it BURNS in his soul every time he sees them.
It doesn't have anything to do with allergies either. Or having to eat tofu. Because maybe someone's stomach does not so much like the medicines they've been given, and has grown alittle... oversensitive to meat. Yes. Maybe that has happened. Maybe someone had that happen to them.
But this is not the basis for my lack of fun. That has more to do with friends.. being.. well. Not alive. Anymore. Only just one friend. But that's enough, really. I don't think I have really.. accepted things yet. So we will leave the topic for now.

I understand that you crazy Americans have father's day coming up? Yes? Fun For You!
And some of you people here are bound to have husbands/boyfriends/partners/one night stands gone wrong? That you have children with? And then they are fathers! And thus this upcoming Sunday... it is their day. That y'all are gonna celebrate. Good for you! And if you do NOT have any of the above and you do not feel like celebrating your own father.. well then you can come here and play yatzee with me. With 6 dices. I take it all the way y'all.

ANYHOW. Fathers should not be celebrated only by children. So sayeth Me. I think that as wives/girlfriends/partners/one night stands gone wrong we females have to.. make a little effort to please the men we love. That love us. And care for us. And don't get too mad at us when we happen to misplace our lunches on their couches. After we have eaten it. I never did this.

Just to make things easy.. Being as I have no husband/boyfriend/partner/one night stand gone wrong (phew! Sweet relief!) and also my father passed away a long time ago, here is my contribution to all the doting fathers around America (and what other countries might celebrate Father's Day next Sunday)

10 Things you can say to make your man happy for just alittle while:

1. "I think we need a new lawnmower. An expensive one. I have been saving." (this also works with car, boat, truck or maybe even a tractor. Be creative.)

2. "You know that hot secretary of yours? Me and her took some fun pictures together.."

3. "My mother wanted to come over to see us this summer but I told her to mind her own business."

4. "...and since you have been so nice to me you don't have to remember my birthday OR our anniversary anymore."

5. "I never really cared for Valentine's Day anyway."

6. "...and instead of talking about it I think we should just move on to the make-up-sex"

7. "I bought some snacks and alot of beer and thought maybe you'd like to have some friends over for pokernight? And also you can show them your brand new Playstation 2!" (Or x-box or whatever the hell is the bestest console these days)

8. "No no, it's ok. I wasn't saying anything interesting anyhow. Go back to staring into the air. Sorry for disturbing you." (This one isn't good as it is very often said sarcastically in an angry tone right before the banging of a door and a very confused man sleeping on the couch.)

9. "I am not wearing any underwear."

10. "The most attractive feature in a male is a beer belly and no sense of fashion whatsoever."

Some Things Are Just Wrong Together

2005-06-13T23:45:00.000+02:00

You know how some things are just not made for being together. Like they are.. the materialized oxymorons of the world. You all know what I mean. Some of you might be married to your own materialized oxymoron. Because that is just how things go. Very often these Things that should not be together wind up with eachother afterall. And they seem to stay there.. just to spite the rest of us. But it is not a good thing. They should by no means be together. Like toilet paper and shoe, they are not a good combination. Yet it happens to me all the time. And being as I am not an attentive person, this has cost me a great deal of.. pain.

Because this is the result of the Things That Should Not Be Together But Somehow End Up Together Anyhow. It has to end with pain. I cannot repeat this too much.. IT IS NOT A GOOD THING. Ok. I think you are ready now. Presenting...

Great List Of Things That Should Not Be Together But Somehow End Up Together Anyhow:

1. Eurosport and Poker. I shit you not. A European sports-channel is.. AS WE SPEAK showing a POKER tournament. Poker is NOT a sport. What will be next? CHESS?! Ah, they showed that yesterday. Snooker? HAH! Weekly! I mean, there must be SOMETHING better than Poker for a sports-channel... Can't they at least show some 3rd league soccer match? Some Army guys chasing a high school girl around the track.. I mean ANYTHING must be better than Poker! Unless it's hands-on Poker of course. Then I'm game. Nothing like some good old hands-on Texas hold'em!

2. The Bush-family and the White House. But do you ever learn? No! I blame the soccer-moms. (PS: Did any of y'all notice a certain... Similarity between Barbara Bush and George Washington? I mean.. the hair.. the nose.. Any of you?)

3. My sister and electric appliances. I bet everyone knows someone like this. They just walk past your dishwasher and 2 seconds later there is water all over the kitchen floor. Sister has now kept a cellphone for almost a year without fatally hurting it. Which for anyone else equals having a cat that lives to be... one hundred years. It's just amazing. That cellphone is tough shit.

4. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. No further comment. Except soon he'll be in a bar near me wearing a T-shirt with AMAZING in rainbow letters, proclaiming how GHEY Ashton Kutcher is.

5. Me and screaming, spoiled brats. I have many times, while at the store, asked Mother what is the exact punishment for locking a screaming child in the milk-cooler-thingy. Does anyone here KNOW what the punishment is? Because I am pretty DAMNED SURE that it would be worth it.

6. Me and good, honest men. No, wait. Wrong. Those factors have yet to meet each other.

7. Michael Jackson and the words "Not Guilty".

American Things That Need To Stay American

2005-06-11T12:47:00.000+02:00

America is the Greatest Country In The World. Any American will tell you so. And because most Americans have been traveling to see a lot of different countries, have throughoutly read into other countries' governmental systems and social situations, most Americans have a good base to say that their is the best. You go. Lucky bastards! (We will of course ignore articles such as this. No way is Canada better than y'all! The UN is biased anyways, am I right people?!)

But. There are some not so great things about America that I... came across while observing you lot when I lived in Iowa back in the days. Little things. That just... annoys a foreigner.
Enter globalization. Hello. I hate you. Not because it's gotten easier to travel. No I love that, love to travel. Not because you mix cultures with eachother. That's fun. Nothing like a good 'ole culture crash. No. I hate you because those little things.. The American Things That Need To Stay American are starting to infiltrate Norway. MY INNOCENT VIRGIN COUNTRY! Molested by these... American culture things.

So... Introducing the great list of:

American Things That Need To Stay American.

1. Cheerleaders. They look cute and all.. But. They. Are. Annoying. "Let me see your [insert school mascot] spirit!" How bout you let me see you choke and die?
Have any of you seen a European Soccer stadium full of people? Even during a not-so-important game. There is NO WAY you can compare a semi-enthusiastic American football audience to that. We got too much spirit. We got hooligan spirit! We need less spirit, and we didn't even have half naked women to wind us up!

2. White Trash That Think They're Cowboys. I bring this up because I saw a couple like that while I was waiting for the bus the other day. It brought back memories from Iowa. Had a bunch like that in my school. I know we all like the myth about cowboys, even tho they were just.. men that looked after the cows. It's way cool and we all love "Wanted Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi. There is a distinct difference between "Cowboy" and "White Trash" that I will now take you through.
-If you live in a trailer and not on a farm, You Might Not Be A Cowboy.
-If you have never touched a cow your entire life, You Might Not Be A Cowboy. (ok I know being a cowboy isn't what it used to be. But even so.)
-If you think ANY high heeled boots are cowboy boots, and also you ARE A MAN, You Might Not Be A Cowboy
- If you tuck your denim jacket into your jeans, You Might Not Be A Cowboy.
- If you have no teeth, You Might Not Be A Cowboy.

3. You Might Be A Redneck jokes. "If you have ever hauled a bucket of white paint up the water tower to save your sister's honor, You Might Be A Redneck". They are fun... But ENOUGH ALREADY!

4. Old ladies with big fluffy red hair, an attitude and sweatsuits. Oh, and bright shiny running shoes. Old ladies always have the newest, hippest shoes. They will wear a big, flowery dress, pantyhose, a cardigan and Michael Jordan's Spankin' New Runnin' Shoes With Air Soles And Blinking Red Lights. It's funny to me. Anyone else noticed this? BUT! The Big Redhaired old ladies... that speak through their noses and have opinions... They need to stay American.

5. Soccer moms. Having been raised by one I am pretty experienced on the topic of Norwegian soccer moms. Clear no-no. You try growing up with a Norwegian soccer mum that is convinced that you are a lesbian. And keeps telling you that she is FINE with that. Yes... At MY house, I have to come out of the closet as a heterosexual. "Mum.. I need to tell you something. I like men! That's just how it is. I know this will be hard for you to believe."

6. Country music. Now... This is what this post is ABOUT. I HATE COUNTRY MUSIC. Through my soul, from top to button. When I die and Satan open up the Gates of Hell to let me in, Kenny Chesney will be standing there in the welcoming committee, singing about his gay dog that ran away with his son. And it has already infiltrated our country... WE HAVE SINGERS THAT SING COUNTRY IN NORWEGIAN. Way to molest our language! Get that work of Satan out of here! It needs to stop! Makes me cry so, so much.

Other than those American plagues slowly making their way to Norway.. little is going on here.
I just colored my hair purple and now.. I look like a lesbian porn star. Not that I ever.. watch... that. I just.. HEARD that I look like one. I read it in a book. Yeah. Maybe mummy was right afterall?

Albenny

2005-06-08T18:22:00.000+02:00

This might not be such a good substitute for my bra pic. (Chris please fix this soon) But anyhoo.. This is a picture of The Love Of My Life, Albenny. When you read it out you should say it like Al-benny. Not like Albenny on one word. Because Al-benny sounds so much betterer.

Albenny is a boat. Some of you might be surprised now, as this does NOT show in the picture. One day he was laying by the quay in Trondheim. Tipped over just like in the picture. Albenny was always tipped over, looking like he might do a Titanic any day. But he never did. Albenny stayed in there. He became a great inspiration for me. No matter how much they load on me, no matter how much they tip me over, I WILL NOT SINK. Yes. It's all such a beautiful metaphor.

One day, just as he had arrived, Albenny suddenly disappeared. All I have left is this picture that I hijacked of some site about boats. I would credit them but unfortunately I forgot. Albenny is now in foreign docks, a tropical paradise far far away, always on new adventures. He will always be missed.
Good luck, Albenny, in everything that you do! Keep that radar above the water!
I think you should all look at this picture and think about how much we can learn from good old tipped-over Albenny. Meanwhile I will think about something to post about.

A poem?! For me?!

2005-06-05T01:39:00.000+02:00

A very good friend of mine has through no pushing or nagging from my site written a poem about me. I feel that is sums up my life pretty good. The themes are Blender, and Being Stood Up. I think it's a deep poem that I can totally relate to. I shall never know how he came up with writing a poem over those two themes. I am amazed. And throughoutly thrilled. It's all too beautiful. So much love.

The writer is the muchly loved audioholic, that is also known for leaving the nicest comments on my page. Well...

Poem:

dear diary

this friend of mine
got stood up
and I was all
dude
and she was all
huh?
and I was all
let's make daiquiris
and she was all
what?
and I was all
I got a new blender
and she was like
oh no you didn't
and I was all like
did what?
and she was all
buy a blender?
and I was like
what blender?
and she was all
I got stood up
and I was like
sucks

Yes. You might interpret it. I think I might base my thesis on this poem only. So. Deep! And about me y'all! Like I said, I never even MENTIONED to him that he should write a poem for me. Never. Not once! No nagging from my side!!

Also, famous bra pic has been postponed. Until I can find it on my computer. Yes, I am disorganized. Anyhow. Enjoy this literary masterpiece.

Pop Quiz, please put your books away.

2005-06-04T18:16:00.000+02:00

The internet is not a safe place to be. These days you leave electronic traces almost everywhere you go. No matter what you do someone is gonna be able to track you down.

This makes me wonder... I am writing this and posting it on the internet.. For anyone with even a slight interest to read. How much information about myself am I putting up here? I mean.. I expose my inner feelings and all. Ok, maybe not so much. Like I will never reveal here that I like R'nB more than Classic Rock, that I claim to be my favorite. That stays with me. Nor will I tell you how I actually like some of Christina Aguilera's songs. No. That kind of information is not for you to know.

But, as a little test of just how much you know about me, I have prepared a little quiz for all you pretty people to take. The answers can be left in the comments. You are not allowed to cheat off of eachother. The winner will receive my famous bra-pic, which is me with a bra and a big smile. In fact, if anyone gets more than 5 answers right I will post it on this site. Yes. I promise. So let's get started, shall we?

The Ultimate Quiz: How much do you know about Kirsti?

1: What year was I born?

a) 1985
b) The same year as AC/DC released "Back in Black"
c)The year before Chyrnobyl (sp)

2. What is my favorite drink?

a) Water
b) H2O
c) The stuff that you find in the oceans and lakes and rivers and stuff...

3. Who is at home alone this weekend?

a) Me
b) Kirsti
c) The writer of this blog

4. What did I learn today while making dinner?

a) You know how they say you shouldn't put silvery things in the microwave..? They're really not kidding about that.
b) When you're making food and you are also really dumb you should always stand close to the microwave so you are ready for action when it starts spewing blue sparks.
c) If you have been warned against something SEVERAL TIMES and it is also printed on the side of the microwave in big, bold letters that you SHOULD NOT DO THAT... Then you probably should not do that.

5. Who was pestered by a dumbassed Dutch in the pub last night?

a) My friends and me
b) Everyone at our table
c) The group of people that I was in that STRONGLY hinted that he should bugger off and would he PLEASE stop fondling our friend that was trying HARD not to throw up but doesn't know how to say no.

6. What did my clever friend tell me when I complained about not having sex for so long I was about to become a virgin again?

a) Some smartassed answer that was rude and UNDESERVED.
b) A somewhat funny but still totally WRONG and RUDE comment
c) "That takes 25 YEARS not 25 DAYS."

7. Before, when I was younger and not so smart as I am now, I used to get insanely drunk and do what?

a) Something I should never, ever have done.
b) Something I regretted deeply for weeks afterwards, every time.
c) Dance.

8. Mia is coming over tonight to do what?

a) Marvel at my bad housekeeping and NOT eat the snacks that I FORGOT to buy
b) NOT get drunk on the drinks that I can't make because I forgot to buy ingredients
c) NOT eat strawberries because I might have eaten them all for lunch because I forgot to buy something else to eat.

9. I am kind of glad that it is overcast today, why?

a) the sun is the work of the devil and also it HURTS MY HEAD
b) The sun makes it so LIGHT and BRIGHT and it is NOT GOOD!
c) I might be a little hung over.

10. What do I get to do this Monday morning as opposed to go to school?

a) Sleep.
b) The opposite of being awake
c) That thing you do when you are not out of bed and also you are dreaming.

Well that's it folks. Good luck!

Now I have to go search my freezer for anything.. snack-like that I can feed poor lil Mia that agreed to come over, bless her heart. You think frozen peas and a popsicle will do?

Why I never get invited to parties

2005-06-01T14:47:00.000+02:00

I am not a party person. And by "party" here I mean the private, teenager "oohh my parents are out of town, let's have a party and trash the house they will NEVER notice, awesome dude!" parties. I don't go to those. Not even when I was 14 did I go to those. I'm more a... Pub to pub to police car person.

But I have been to the before parties. Yes. When you get together and get drunk BEFORE you go to the actual party and get drunker. And I HATE those. Especially when I only know one person there and the rest are strangers. I love my friends.. But their friends? I might seem judgmental here but... They are, all of them, the most ANNOYING, IMMATURE and... CLUELESS people I have ever met. Except for that time I visited the Norwegian Government Building. But that's another story.

Now, when I go to these, to SOCIALIZE and HAVE FUN, I always end up sitting on the couch with a pillow in my lap, knees drawn up, leaning away from the others as much as I possibly can. These people.. are insane. Scaring me. Scared. Me. Awful, awful people. It's times like these I'm convinced Satan forgot to lock the gates that night. And it's the same types coming over and over again, in different shells. Y'all see where this is going. Therefore I present to you:

Full list over types that I, Kirsti, have encountered numerous times at fun, fun parties:

1. The hyper KREIZI PERTEYH GURL!! She ALWAYS has to have something fun happening around her. She is like a happy Christian except she's a Child of Satan and she drinks. A lot. Also she constantly complains about people being SO BORING AND...WHY ARE YOU JUST SITTING THERE?! According to her she whole world needs to GET UP AND DANCE. Preferably to Eminem. Or any random KOOL BEAT. If she gets overly bored, and she will, oh trust me, SHE WILL, she has to play a DRINKING GAME!!!! Anyone of us that do NOT wanna do this are boring people who will probably die alone with our cats after... whatever bad faith. So then we all play I never, hoping that Hyper Kraizigurl will get so drunk she passes out. Which will happen. But not until 5 minutes before we HAVE TO GO. She is also the one that invited...

2. The person that can't come to any party without bringing 10 friends. They will always call beforehand and ask if it's cool to bring ONE friend. Then they will show up and ask "I hope it's ok that I brought some more people" sounding like they brought two friends instead of one. And then the Friends From Hell parades in. Of course she will abandon these friends to sit on the couch with me, in order for her to be Hyper Pertyh-Gurl's disciple and echo. One of these Friends From Hell is guaranteed to be:

3. The Guy That There Is Something About. Whatever there is, there is something about him... Either he talks funny or he has funny hair or he just involuntarily became a father... Whatever. That's cool. BUT. Everyone will make fun of this, and come out with snappy little jokes about whatever THING there is about him. Not funny jokes. Really bad, inappropriate jokes. Like he'll ask: "Can I get some of that chocolate" and someone will scream "NO! YOU CANNOT! HAHA YOU JUST BECAME A FATHER AND YOUR HAIR IS WEIRD AND ALSO YOU TALK FUNNY HAHAHAHAHA!!" This will cause everyone to laugh hysterically, and high five the Amazing Joker for her good humor and quick wit!
The Guy That There Is Something About will also laugh all "hahaha I can take a joke too!" and be convinced that we are all flirting with him and grow more sure of this for every lame "punchline" that is delivered. Sadly, he is mostly right, because one of the girls at the party will ALWAYS end up having an affair with The Guy That There Is Something About. Which causes him to, at the next party, be...

4. The New Boyfriend That is SO DAMNED CUTE To Everyone (As Long As He Is Within Hearing Range): This is a boyfriend that someone has brought along with her. Because as you all know, when you have a boyfriend it's JUST TOO PAINFUL to be away from him for a whole night. He is probably a normal guy, just doing what guys do, and also he is madly in love with whatever girl brought him. Whatever he does, though, will be squealed and "aaawwww!"ed about for several minutes. Like she (the girlfriend) will ask him to send her a pretzel, and he does and everyone, lead by Hyper PartyGurl will go "AWWW HE GAVE HER A PRETZEL!! I want someone to give me a pretzel too!!" *pouty pouty* Five minutes later the same people are in the kitchen going "Did you see how he gave her that pretzel? OH MY GAWD! Like how he did with his hand? JESSUS! If MY boyfriend did that I would hold him under water until there was no bubbles coming out!"
The interesting thing about The New Boyfriend That Is SO DAMNED CUTE To Everyone (As Long As He Is Within Hearing Range) is that he doesn't even have to attend the party to be a part of it. He can just call her while the party is going, or send her a cute text message like "I love you" or "Please buy some milk on the way home". And you know the "AAAWWW!"s and whatnot. And 2 minutes later in the kitchen: "OH. MY. GAWD!! He is SO POSSESSIVE! If MY boyfriend was like that I would lock him in the suer and tell the whole city to flush simultaneously!" Jealousy is not part of this game at all.

5. The Answer-Man. He has the answer to every drunken, semi philosophical question ever mentioned during the night. You know how you down four vodka shots and wonder why ducks never get wet. He knows it. He will explain it. If you have a really dumb question he will explain why is it "actually impossible". He is annoying. And probably also an award-bragger. Stay away.

These are the most common stereotypes... I hope you are all warned by now, and never, ever set foot in a Norwegian home-alone-perteyh.

This spell check was brought to you by Chris.

"How To Cure A Broken Heart" and other sarcastic titles by Kirsti

2005-05-29T18:47:00.000+02:00

This Friday I got.. "dumped". So... Ok. Yeah, I'm up to date now. Andy dumped me. Getting dumped = broken heart. I have learned this from movies and those bullshit books that is the only thing they have in the girls section in the middle school library. So he "had an idea of how it was gonna be" and apparently that didn't happen. I guess me vomiting on his couch wasn't part of the plan. Whatever. But he would "still like to see you again tho...".
This is where I am confused. Being as he is a guy... "seeing eachother" definitely = sex. This provoked confusion. We had... more than sex..? I was not aware. So I get "dumped" yet we are at the exact same spot. It's not even one step foreward, two steps back. He just jumped up, shook the ground abit and landed in the exact same spot. Congratulations. Anyhow. It is my duty now, as the dumpee, to be heart broken and... I don't know. Bitter. I already sent a few bitter text messages... so I'm doing good there. But for the rest of you who are broken hearted and not handling as well as I am, here is a list over what I have done post-dumping (that sounds so... so wrong). Maybe you can learn something about how to get over a heartache. Also, maybe this is just a poor excuse for me to write about what I have done lately without having this look like a 14-year-old's diary. But of course it isn't, as you all realize.

Kirsti's loving tips on how to get over an aching, aching broken heart:
(or, What I Have Done Lately, by Kirsti)

1. Discovered a new talent. I make the BEST drinks that requires a blender... I have impressed everyone with my mad mixing skillz. I make daquiris.. margaritas... and... whatever else. Screwdrivers with crushed ice.. I mean whatever. If it comes from a blender, I am your woman. Also I might have taste-tested some of these drinks while developing my skillz. Also I might have taste tested ALOT of drinks. In one night. Which might have provoked me to, on the night I was "dumped", write beautiful, emotional love poems. About my blender. All of these were then text messaged to my friends. Who told me to please, please don't bring my blender to bed with me like I had planned to. I love Mr. Blender. I mean I LOVE him... but he ain't no Mildred.

2. Had a long, serious discussion with a MALE friend concerning how I like my left tit more than the right one. I really do. Lefty is well behaved. It stays where it should be. Righty is like a... hippie. I swear, my right tit is an actionist that wants to burn my bras and scream "YOU CANNOT KEEP ME LOCKED IN!" Righty is a rebel. No one likes rebels. If I got a tumor in Lefty, I would probably ask them to remove the right one still. Some things are worth dying for. My MALE friend found this really interesting, and claimed that he could wholeheartedly say that he did not have a favourite testicle.

3. Tried to write a post about the things an apple and a hamster have in common. I wrote that they are roughly the same size and they are both green and edible. "A hamster is not green" say the non-believers. "It is if you color it" says I.

4. Discovered that lists should not have two #3s.

5. Laughed at someone who apparently hate both me and my blog, but still bothers to come back to read the updates. Read all of it. Proofread it. And always gives of his precious time to leave comments. Baby, please don't leave! We love you, mystery hater!

6. Ordered my FABULOUS trip to London. In case some of you haven't noticed... I GRADUATE this spring. Yes. No more school. Except university. That I will attend for the next eternity so that I can become a SUPERB Forensic psychologist. BUT! Me! Graduate! Hooray! And off to London goes the Kirsti to drink and celebrate and maybe also drink alittle. And there might also be drinking. And I have ordered tickets to the Billy Elliot Musical and ALL IS GOOD WITH THE WORLD! And I fixed this over the innernet with my new credit card that is for GROWN UPS, not the lil kiddie-card I had before. Eff you old bank that did not want to give me a card that worked. Eff you.

7. Illegally downloaded what I believe to be EVERY SINGLE EPISODE EVER MADE of South Park, and watched them all. Twice. Clapped, cheered and laughed hysterically at just about every line Cartman said. When I grow up I am gonna marry Cartman and I will SO respect his authority! Oh and also, when I say "illegally downloaded" I meant to write "bough the DVDs". Typo. My bad. Screw you guys, I'm going home.

8. Watched Factotum. It is a movie. You MUST see it, it's very, very good. And there was your MENTION, Matt.
Point: I watched it with Sister. I told her about my awesome experience with Andy lately, and she was all "Awww, poor Little Sister. But listen to what I have been through..." And guys, please send flowers to my sister. That girl is brave.
What happened is... she went with her BOYFRIEND (that she has not told us about because telling your family about your personal life such as boyfriends and.. whatever else is not for her. But Little Sister knows. Oh yes she does! Mainly because she was told. I digress.) Ok, sister + boyfriend meeting boyfriend's friend and boyfriend's friend's friend. You with me still? And boyfriend's friend's friend, hereby known as BFF was very into.. choirs. Yes. BFF sat for 3 hours. THREE WHOLE HOURS... talking about choirs. Non. Stop. For 3 hours. That is 180 minutes... 10800 LONG seconds. Of choir-talk. It just puts everything in perspective... I mean we think WE suffer sometimes... Just think about what she went through. So brave...

9. Bought... AWESOME SHORTS! Now.. I am not a model-type girl. I am not ugly. I am not fat. But I am no model. But these shorts!! They just... BAAM! I look good in shorts. It has NEVER happened before. Me... look good in shorts. And also they were on SALE and I can wear them in LONDON and... It doesn't take much to put a smile on my face.

10. Listened to "just a gigolo" by David Lee Roth at least 1000 times over and over every day. I don't know why... I just love that song these days. So if any of you have business at my house... you must realize that there is an overwhelming danger of being exposed to me "singing" IIIIIIIIIII ain't got noBOOOOOOODY! While making drinks. And watching South Park in my awesome new shorts that were on sale. All while crying over my brave, brave sister.

Conclution: The solution to a broken heart is: Alcohol, talking with friends, self-realization, laughing, traveling, watching funny tv-shows, cool sisters, shopping and listening to the same music over and over. See? My list wasn't so off anyways.

Mildred!

2005-05-28T11:11:00.000+02:00

Mildred!
Originally uploaded by Kirsti85.

Just so you know. This is Mildred. He protects me. He's a moose. He is very very cute. And also dangerous. So if you try to hurt me, Mildred will come to the rescue. Concider yourselves warned.

Naughty, naughty girl. Naughty, naughty, disorganized girl.

2005-05-23T17:55:00.000+02:00

This might be the last post before I head straight to jail.

No. I did not maime the guy that stood me up (and has not been heard from since). And Due to some common misconceptions: He Who Did Not Call Me is not Chris. Chris = nice guy. Chris = not jerk. Chris is my friend. And that is the THIRD time, man. How do you do it?

But here's what I did... I was sitting through an all day math exam today. And they gave us the assignment. And on top it had the date and "IMPURTENT MATHE ECKSAM" written on it. And after that there were some assignments that I could actually do. And by "some" I don't mean "all" and not even "alot". Maybe not even "most of them". But SOME of the things on that sheet of paper were actually doable.
But I was not looking at the questions. Or the numbers. I was staring at the date on the top. May 23rd. And my mobile phone bill was due the 22nd. I KNOW! Man, am I in Barney now... I expect they will show up at my door and haul me away kicking and screaming any time soon... Tell mummy I love her. They're gonna use The Chair on me, I can feel it.

BUT, since this is the last post that I will get to write before they give me a lethal injection for Failure To Pay, I will grab the chance and let some important things off my chest. Things that I thought I was never, EVER gonna let out. But what are they gonna do? Put me in jail? Hah. So here it is:

The Big List Of People I Cannot, CAN NOT Stand. Icky, Nasty, Stereotypes!

1. Pretend Japanese. It's OKAY if you like anime. I can handle that. You like swords too? That's nice, you go! But these people that are so "interested in Japanese culture" that they are just a MAJOR PAIN IN THE ASS... now that bothers me. If you are not Japanese by birth, well then that isn't what God wanted. Also, Japanese culture is more than ninjas, anime, samurais and hentai. No really, it is! And you DO NOT SPEAK JAPANESE, so don't pretend like you do. Knowing how to say "Sayonara" or whatever the fuck doesn't make you inneresting and KOOL. Anyone can learn 5 words from another language. I know Japanese too. BUKKAKE! Yeah, in your face! (sorry. so sorry. that was lame)

2. People who have awards and are NOT afraid to use them!! You know the type.. Like there is a group of you talking and someone makes an innocent joke about someone. And they respond something like "Yeah. Yeah... You say that. I only had a 4.1 GPA, was the Vale dictorian in my elementary class, captain of the Ludy-club, got the Murray-Cantore accomplishment award for weather-spotting, won the attendance award in my Bible Study Group, got a $5 Scholarship from Uncle Poppy's Barbeque and Chicken Lips and was named President of the Outstanding Spectators' Sports Society. But if you wanna try to put me down you can go on." EVERYTIME they don't feel like the King of the World they pull out their List Of Great Accomplishments. Effin show-offs. And they are always really sarcastic and pretend-casual about it. No one CARES if you were the captain of the badminton-team in 5th grade (I wasn't! ..no! I swear I was not!) In the REAL WORLD we don't get awards when we do something REALLY impressive.

3. Happy Christians. There. I said it. I respect people with religion. I really do. You have yours, I have mine. But those happy christians... they have to spread the WORD. Hear the Gospel my child. Because their lord Jesus gives them so much joy, and they just wanna spread it. Chocolate chip cookies give me joy too. You don't see me running around wearing my "Cookie Loves All Children" T-shirt telling everyone how much fun we have in the cookie-club where we play volleyball, watch movies and stay up ALL NIGHT (sometimes AFTER ten!!) and play fun fun games. And the happy christians, they are young and they are always hyper. And apparently they don't know the word "no". Because the Lord has granted them so much happiness that all they hear is "YES YES YES!". People, once and for all. You can believe in WHATEVER YOU'D LIKE. But I do not wanna come with you and sing, dance, swim and eat pizza in the name of the lord. No. Hear me? NO!

4. Anti-drug people. Anti-anything people that go out to the schools. Here are a few true facts: a) I have never done any kind of drugs, except for alcohol. b) say... 40% of my friends smoke, yet I have never put a ciggarette to my lips my entire life. c) I have a healthy relationship with alcohol. Except that once... but that was just once. Maybe twice. Whatever. d) When any of you force yourself upon me.. and tell me about your filthy past as abusers and why it is important NOT to drink and to NOT do as our friends do and take our OWN choises that happen to be the SAME ones as you lay upon us... when this happens... I wanna go out and become a junkie. Because the way you fucking nag and bitch.. being high is the only way to handle you. You might THINK you're doing something important but you are NOT. This message is dedicated to the MOT bunch in Norway. Ya hear me? Go home!

5. People who... like... you know LOLZ ;)))) when they write you liek..n dey cnt spll... u jst wanan liek :O strngel dem!! :(((( its sad bt tru.... ppl nid 2 schtup wrtn liek monkys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :OOOOOOO LOLZ jk!! :)))))))

Open letter to God

2005-05-22T19:25:00.000+02:00

Dear God

Being the omniscient God that you are, of course you realize what incidents have been going on lately.

He. Did not. Contact. Me.

I am just reminding you now so I am CERTAIN that we are on the same page. Man. Promised he would text message me so we would meet and I would be grinning and walking funny today. Which I am not. On account of... I was STOOD UP. Of course I realize that there could be all kinds of reasons you know... Maybe he was busy all night. Maybe he had to sleep. Maybe he was abducted by space aliens. Maybe his mobile is broken. Yes.. yes that is likely. But, God, I am not a disillusioned person. I am, as you know all too well, not a person of faith. And so, I am not a happy person today.

The reason I am writing: As it was getting late last night and I was surrounded by the cruel silence that was my mobile NOT ringing... I was trying to get all my male friends to apologize on behalf of their gender. While doing this, I was informed that this in fact does not only happen to me. No. It's unbelieveable but it is true. And not only that, but it happens to BOTH genders! Therefore, Creator of All Men, I am writing to you to ask for an apology on behalf of (wo)mankind. In all confidence God, it says that you created men in your own image. So obviously, you have made them able to do this. I believe a sincere apology is apt. Per text message will be alright. Also you should send out apologies to everyone who has ever been put through bullshit like that. And we should get some Get-Out-Of-Hell-Points, as a comfort for what we've been through. You know I could sure use them.

Imagen if it happened to you. Or your kid. What if Joseph had told Mary "Honey I'm just gonna go get some... uuhmm... Fallafels. Catch up with you in Betlehem." and was never heard from again. You wouldn't have liked that, no you would not. Or what if Moses went up on that mountain to get the commandments and NEVER RETURNED. Thousands of jews would STILL be lost in the desert, while Moses was at some bar pulling chicks with his mad water-splitting skillz. You are a sensible woman, God. I think you realize something needs to be done here.

While we're at it I have some comments on other things you could have fixed:

1. Pop music. Thank you. I have no further comment.

2. Why am I allergic to EVERYTHING except for fish? Fish is the most disgusting thing I know, yet I have no excuse not to eat it, because... I am not allergic to it. I am allergic to everything that is good in this world.. like wine, milk products, chocolate, and purdy fields of flowers. But nasty, stinky fish, THAT doesn't hurt me the slightest.

3. Snakes. They need to be removed. Don't give me that "they control the rodents" speech. Why did you make rodents in the first place?

4. Please make Chris nicer. I know he's amazing because he gives the truth when everyone else feeds me bullshit. But please make him less of a vicious, anal poopyhead.

I hope that you will see to this situation... and that you will give some special attention to stood up dates, non-believers and broken mobiles. (Hey, you're the one who wrote the book on hope. Just... let me hold on to the liferaft that is the broken mobile phone!)

Since I realize that I have only kept you as an emergency solution for when I am lost at sea and about to drown or simular situations, and that my only prayer to you has ever been "Please save me from your followers" I understand that this wish might seem a bit rich. But you are the only omnipotent spirit that my religion allows me to contact. So please listen to me, just this once. I promise if you do, I will realize that I should have saved myself for marriage.

Unfaithfully yours,

Kirsti

Times my head has almost exploded

2005-05-20T17:50:00.000+02:00

I am a freely spoken person. A little too much. I say the first thing that falls into my head. Often before my head has even realized that it has fallen into it and it is already said. There is this genetical thing in this family where the connection between brain and mouth is very, very delaid. It is serious and doctors don't know what to do. In fact they don't really care to do anything at all.

However... there have been some times where even I have realized that... "BEEP BEEP! Kirsti this is a good time to NOT say what you wanna say! Hold back, repeat, HOLD BACK!" And I am sitting there with my eyes popping out, trying SO HARD not to say what is PRESSING on my tongue. And also I have purple smoke coming out of my ears. It is HARD to hold back. So hard.

So in order to celebrate myself and my impressive ability of self control... here is the... I think perhaps the complete list of times when I have been wise enough to shut the hell up.

1st incident: We were sitting in this bar place. It is called Fifth Avenue, I recommend it if you ever happen to be in Trondheim, Norway. Good place to be. Dicey Riley's next door is even betterer. They have Newcastle brown and it is yummy. Where was I? Yes, we were sitting there... And there was this girl with us who had just showed up suddently and then she was just.. part of us. Very nice girl. Incidentally, she knew half the city, and the half she didn't know she had to get to aquainted with RIGHT NOW. She talked to EVERYONE.
And this incident in question, she was sitting at our table talking to this guy. He had tight pants on. And a very tight shirt. And something lame like "INCREDIBLE" or "AMAZING" printed on his shirt in rainbow colors. Repeat, rainbow colors. Also he was packed with "bling bling". And I would not use a term like "bling bling" unless I heard it from him. He had bling bling in his EARS. Hanging. From. His. Ears. Bling bling.

People. I am not one for stereotypes. But he must have known what vibes he gave.

My lurvely friend Elvy started talking about this... happening in Berlin.. we had a school trip to Berlin in November... It got alittle wild. I was a good girl, I promise! Anyhow, what she was talking about was when two drunk guys were fighting and one of them put his... thing... into the other guy's mouth. Well you know, these things happen on field trips.
And bling bling guy went NUTS (ooohhh pun hah hah hah!) and was all (like) "Oh I could NEVER do that, that is GROSS!! How GHEY isn't that?!"

And I got very busy zipping on my beer. And there was purple smoke. I managed, but only because I almost choked on my beer and was unable to speak for 10 minutes.

Incident 2: I visited this guy named Andy. And it was very nice. I guess we were somewhat 'seeing' eachother. Are. Were. Whatever. Well, according to his friend we 'hooked up'. Let's use the term 'hooked up'. So anyways I went down to see him. And he sent me out to buy beer. Bastard. Then we sat outside and Andy started talking. And Andy talked. And then Andy talked some more. And then Andy thought "These accustics make my voice sound so manly and soothing. I better talk some more". What Andy was talking about was his *dun dun dun* past. I listened, like the good girl that I am. By all means, if he wants to talk about "The Time I Was Engaged And Exactly What Went Wrong And When" then he can have at it. But it wasn't my topic of choice. being as.. you know... pasts.. touchy subject. Especially when..

Andy; 33: "i was engaged, dated this girl for a million years, this other one, my promdate and one hundred billion other girls.."

Kirsti; 19: "I kissed a boy once... It was nice."

I might be guilty of a few overstatements just there, but you get my point.
Later his friends came over and started feeding me Vodka Lattes. (Or white russians as anyone except me and my friends call them.) And things are a little blurry. Being as I had the good idea to mix beer, vodka latte, allergy pills and also MILK which I am very allergic to. (this had an interesting outcome the next day that I won't get into here.)
Somehow one of the guy's girlfriend became the topic. And somehow... I... think... Well anyways, Andy ended up saying "Well she has her past and you have yours and just don't ask it's for the best" And then took a break to THINK and then delivered the wonderful "Except for women, they are ALWAYS nagging... "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE BEFORE ME?!"..." And then he looked into the air all thoughtful. And both the other guys turned to look at me all "you annoying little twat"

And I said NOTHING. I know later now that I SHOULD HAVE. Shock people, it's my only excuse. The ONE TIME I should have talked up I choose to shut up. Because I was too nice to start bitching. And also it would seem defensive from my side. "NOIDIDN'TDOTHATSHUTUPSHUTUPYOUBASTARDYOUTOLDMEWITHOUTMEASKING! IPROMISEY'ALLHEDID!!"

Those are the only two times I haven't immediately screamed up about something. A much funner post would be "Times I should have shut up but was unable to". I will do that as soon as I can sort out the funniest of MILLIONS of times I got into trouble before I even knew I'd said something. But you know... it's all part of my dirty past.

Evil Sadists That Should Be Shot And Then Hung After We Castrate Them With A Rusty Spoon.

2005-05-18T22:05:00.000+02:00

Yes, I am talking about PE teachers.

As you all understood.

WHO gets a degree at a UNIVERSITY and then uses that to be a PHYSICAL EDUCATION TEACHER. They study for years... pay tuition...sit exams... and for what? All in order to tell a bunch of sweaty 18-year-olds "Do laps. Then we're gonna play soccer." WHY?! WHAT?! WHO!? And also.. WHY!?
It's all so... pointless to me. This is why I have for the last 12 years or so been a very... lazy Gym student. This year I graduate. This finishes my physical education. I cannot express what joy this brings forth within me. I wanna hug people. I wanna kiss the earth. I could make out with the principal... I am THAT HAPPY.
Don't get me wrong. I DO work out. It might not show as much... my muscles are to busy to be sore to actually show. Also I like cookies a little tad too much. I digress. I just HATE being told what to do. And I HATE team sports. And I HATE climbing ropes. In fact I have refused to ever try. I don't do push ups on command. Anything that involves a ball is out of the question for me. I won't run if I don't feel like it. And to this day I have never felt like it between 1.30 and 3pm on Wednesdays. Which is when we have PE. There is hate and contempt for this class. True, real, deep-felt hate. And now it's almost over.

I will celebrate with a small list over things I have effectively proven over the 12.. no 13 actually, years that I have had Gym.

1. I do not know, nor will I ever know, the rules of the following: basketball, baseball, dodgeball, cricket, tennis, russian baseball, soccer, american football, australian football, hockey, bandy, volleyball, rugby, wrestling, flag football, pickleball, badminton, canon ball... there is more.

2. At any given time I have NO clue what goal my team should score in.

3. No I can not lift that, no I am not gonna try, leave me alone. Also I am not able to jump over that, climb over that, crawl under that or anything else you want me to do.

4. To you that might just be a headroll, to me it's an advanced actobatic stunt. And I am pretty sure I would break my back and you would be sued. I'm just trying to protect you.

5. "Self training" is to me a synonym for "slacking". And I will lie about it later.

6. Given any of the following I will hurt either myself or someone close, willfully or not: jumping rope, climbing pegs, rolling boards, any form of ball, manuals, wests (IT HAS HAPPENED!), any form of stick or peg, rackets, hockey sticks, cones... The list goes on.

7. I will not dance. But I will sing along to the music. Loudly. With spirit!
I will not run. I will not jump. I will not lay down on my back if you're gonna blow the whistle and have me get up again. Not on my stomach either. I will NOT touch the ground while running. That is DANGEROUS. I will not lift my knees OR kick back. I don't do laps. No I won't stop playing air guitar on the tennis-racket, not even if you turn off the music. I won't catch the ball. I won't "feel the burn".

All in the spirit of self-justice.. here is a list of PE-related things I am good at:

1. I am a very, very good loser. It's because I just don't CARE, but it is the truth and no one can dispute it.

2. I am always the first one to the changing room when we're done. I am FAST. Often 5-10 minutes before the others!

3. When I am on the bench spectating, I NEVER yell good advice at the players. Admit it, you hate these people. "TEAMWORK, PEOPLE!" "BERT, YOU SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN THAT ONE! NEXT TIME, BUDDY!" I never do that. I am nice that way.

4. I never nag to the teacher about what I wanna play. It's all the same to me. I hate it all.

5. I'm pretty good at badminton!

Questions for PDH. And The End.

2005-05-12T19:57:00.000+02:00

Just to conclude the Case of PHD... once and for all. As a nice little end to these two years of utter confusion from my side and God Knows What from his side... I will present here (where I am sure he will not find them. At least not untill the next time I get drunk) a list of questions I would like to ask PDH.

But First. Let's clear something up.

Like you must think that I only think about this guy and all but I don't. Hardly at all. Only when I see him and it's like... well he's pretty! BUT! He is mostly Out Of My Mind. HONEST! I have way more braincells working with Why Did I Get The Flu During Graduation Celebrations And Exams Life, Why Do You Hate Me, and also I Will Fail School Definately Although I Get Almost Exclusively As and Bs And I Have Never Failed Anything In My Life, But I Will Fail I Know It And It's KILLING Me!! And also there might be some thinking about guys and food and sex and other things that makes life worth living. BUT you see the point now? Yes. Good good!

Ok! Questions:

1. What were you THINKING?! "I is horny on you"...?! Come ON!

2. What was the background for the note? Did you just randomly send out notes to every girl in school trying to find one that was horny for you too? Did you.. I'm all out of theories.

3. Shall we have a farewell-shag?

4. My place or yours?

5. 8pm?

6. Would it freak you out if I gave you the note back, framed, with an answer, it being questions 4 & 5?

7. How freaked out?

8. Do you really LIKE that bitch in English class or are you just polite to her?

9. Would you defend her if I kicked her ass? As I might just do soon.

10. How did you get such perfect teeth? Because I floss and I use Aquafresh and it just doesn't... how?

11. Do you know that your ass has got FUR on it? I think I should inform you of this being as... well people don't stare at their own ass all that often you know. You might not be aware. Well it is. Definate donkey ass.

12. Please tell me that revealing your ass to me was an accident... please? And also the second time. In English class again. WHY ALWAYS ME??

13. Is it hard getting through life being so stupid.. I mean you actually thought the Japanese flew over Asia, Europe and America to get to Hawaii to bomb to Pearl Harbour. You demonstrated this for us on a map. Do you not know The Earth is round? Just because the European maps show Japan at one side, Europe in the middle and Hawaii on the right other side doesn't mean the two sides don't meet.

14. Are you gonna stop sagging anytime soon? Please?

15. What's the square root of -1?

16. Will you think about me after school is over?

And that's that I think... Next time I will write something that's not so... pubertal.

This is a story about a guy named PDH

2005-05-07T00:31:00.000+02:00

Let me tell you a story about a boy I used to know. Well actually I still know him. Except I avoid him due to past incidents. This is not of any interest to anyone whatsoever at all. But it feels SO good to vent. Thank you for your patience.

Well I started this school. Upper secondary. After I got home from America. I managed to sneak into the English class to get at least one good grade. "Yes, counselor, it is to MAINTAIN my English, not to safe at least one good grade) (For the uninformed: I am from Norway, we speak Norwegian here, English is a FOREIGN LANGUAGE.) Moving on: In this English class was this... you know.. mildly cute guy. And by mildly cute I mean that heaven opened up and there was much song and rejoycing once he entered the room. There might also have been harps playing. My memory is fogged. And Kirsti says to herself. "Kirsti" she said, "Kirsti. How many times have you fallen flatassed for the first goodlooking idiot you see and how many times have you made an idiot of yourself and do we remember the Kile incident? Do we? Yes. Eyes back in their sockets please and start reading "The Story of an Hour" for the hundreth time." And the class went well and I walked out the classroom vowing to myself never to lay eyes on this guy again. Hah. Hah. Hah. I love it when I'm a dumbass.

One night me and my lurvely friend Elvy was walking on a fine fall night around the gorgeous streets in Norway. And I casually mention that I wouldn't mind getting into Mister Gorgeous' pants... being as what was underneath his clothes was the only thing that could hold any interest for me. Yes. It makes me sound bad but such is life. Ladies, he was a stud but I am certain he could not chew gum and spell his name at the same time. Partly because he had to use 99% of his concentration on being KOOL the entire time. Yes. Anyhow. Me wanting into his pants. And Elvy says, the smartwitted little girl "It shouldn't be too hard, he wears his pants down to here" then indicated her ancles. Which is when I realized... mister Gorgeous is a sagger. YES. he sagged his fucking pants. And his boxers too, as would later be discovered. Thus, after this we called him PDH, meaning Pants Down Here. It was all in bad humor. We do this shit.

This genious was also in my mathclass. He was one of the best students and I am being ironic. Also he started talking to me. Him. Talking to me. Asking all dumbassed questions like where I lived in America and then he nodded all dumbassed "aha!" and pretended that he knew exactly where Sperry, Iowa is. And then his FRIEND started being all friendly to me. His REALLY FUCKING LAME AND ANNOYING FRIEND... started being friendly to me. Now this friend's favourite subject? Reality TV. So Mister Fucking Gorgeous would be sitting there smiling like a dumbassed fucker, and mister lame friend would IN DEPTH discuss the rose ceremony from the last episode of The Bachelor. Or Queer Eye. Yes. I know. He wears tight T-shirts too. Denial all the way. Then they moved. They now placed themselved right behind me in math. And this was hardcore math, like Kirsti-needs-to-pay-attention-math. And When you're being boasted full of the last episode of Big Brother... Deriviation is HARD to focus on.

Then it happened. IT. He sent me a note. Yeah. Did I mention at the time we were both 18? So PDH sent me a note in class. First it was ok. I mean, it was alittle "did this motherfucker just send me a NOTE?! Wasn't he just TALKING to me?" but I managed. The note said, and I quote "hey baby". Yessum. I sent back a "Yo hun" which I later had to translate to him, because "hun" short for "Honey" was too hard an English word for The Guy From My English Class. Then he sent the note back. And this time... hold on to something.. it said, and again I quote: "Wanna kiss with me? I is horny on you" AHH! You don't believe me do you?! Well take THIS!!!

Did I also mention that he offered me sex in the ladies room? Because he did. Yes. Publically. With his lame friend grinning from ear to ear. I guess this was flirting to him. To me it was sexual harrassment... but only if I'm being a dramaqueen. Actually it was just pathetic.

So. Good looks. No brains. Hormon overload. Great so far. Then IT II happened. I had an IMPORTANT EXAM later that day that would determine what grade I'd get in science. Also, I was coming down with the flu. I had around 39C fever... and I was plain sick. Feeling very sick. And then IT II happened. PDH stood up.. and showed me his ass. Now.. imagen being cold, sick and friggin out about IMPORTANT EXAM... and also there is FEVER which is KILLING YOU. and in front of you there is a skinny, hairy ass. And by hairy.. i mean MONSTER hairy. I'm talking Robin Williams hairy. There was no skin on this ass there was just FUR. Whether he showed me his ass by a boxer-sagging accident or if he was trying to tempt me to get horny on him remains a mystery.

And there is so much more to this story but now I'm gonna bitch about getting the fucking flu at a very inconvenient time (!!!) and I will do the making of the tea and the complaining to Mother ordeal. Also later I will need to tell you why I still think about Tony and why I'm all disstressed over guy matters AGAIN now. And the story of Shane. Oh it's all coming out now!

Some day I'm gonna make a great housewife for a very lucky man!

2005-05-06T08:39:00.000+02:00

So... I did the laundry. All by myself. Yes. I know. I'm quite driven to tears myself. It's all so touching. I'm growing up. I am 19, almost 20 and I have just found out how to use a laundry machine. Which puts me in a category way below college guys. Which is sad.
What is sadder is the procedure which I painstakingly go through every time I attempt do to the laundry... I never learn. I can fix any computer, I can make the most equisite cuisine, I can open a carton of milk without spilling a drop! But I cannot learn how to work this washing machine.

Kirsti's 10 easy steps to do her laundry when Mother is out of town or... out of town.

1. Get pile of clothes that you are gonna wash. Realize that some clothes need different temperature than others. Be utterly confused. Find laundry tag. Be astonished that this tag that is always irritating my skin when I'm wearing the clothes actually serves a purpose. Wonder for at least 30 minutes about what temperature should be used to wash a bra. Send text messages to at least 40 people asking about this and also the price on spaghettios while you're at it.

2. Try to open door to washing machine. Press all the buttons in the close proximity to the washing machine while yelling something about sesamy. Get screwdriver. Decide it's probably best to put that back. Send text message to at least 40 people asking how to open door. Thank profusely for advice to press little button on handle.

3. Put clothes in and mumble "40 degrees 40 degrees" over and over to self while searching for thing to set the temperature. Be unable to find it anywhere. Send message to at least 40 people complaining about this. Get at least 90 pieces of good advice back, but still be unable to find it. Curse and complain about non-user-friendly utilities. Find "on" button and timer but nothing else.

4. Move clothes from dryer into actual waching mashine. Look around and make sure no one saw you. Send out messages to at least 40 people claiming the temperature setter thingy was hidden behind a shirt that was hanging down over the edge he he he isn't that slightly funny?

5. Wonder how much detergent to use. Send out text messages to at least 40 people asking about this. Also complain about price for sending so many text messages. Spend at least 20 minutes figuring out average amount of the 40 different answers recieved. End up using completely random amount because you're getting delerious from sniffing detergent fumes.

6. Realize why so many housewives take to the bottle. Send out messages to at least 40 people sharing this dicovery.

7. Wonder on what end of the timer you should start the machine. Does it count foreward or backwards? What the hell do these symbols mean? Why is there a picture of a tree on this machine? Send messages to at least 40 people asking about this. Get 40 'haha's back. Be mad at bad friends and look for booze. Decide that you have definately figured the timer out by your damned self, be very proud and then press ON, BABY!

8. Try to solve intricate, hightech problem that is causing washing machine not to start. Send message to at least 40 people bragging about how great you are at this problem searching and that it will be fixed in no time! Thank profusely for tip to plug it in, and also to turn on the water.

9. Desperately try to turn off fast spinning cycle that started when you pressed 'on', and decide that the timer might not count backwards afterall. Set it to 1, and wonder again about mystery-tree. Send out messages to at least 40 people and complain because no one has yet explained this to you.

10. Be amazed and proud because not one single piece of clothing is miscolored, torn into thousand pieces or eaten by cookie monsters. Send messages to at least 40 people to brag about your mad washing skillz! Vow to marry rich so you can get a maid.