How to get people to buy your junk.

Some time ago, more precisely in the blessed and holy two school-free months we had in the summer of 08, I had a little revelation of my own. Sadly, it was nothing close to a religious revelation, like that chubby and smiling Buddhist fellow had. It was also nothing near the revelation Bush had when he discovered he was a douche.

I was strolling down a lane in the beautiful city of Calgary in Canada, discussing dutch beer with a friend, when I came upon a dvd-rental shop. My mind was blown away. It was sublime.

You see, if a shop looks for employees here in Norway they usually just put up a small note with "Help Wanted" on. In the dvd-shop, that was not the case.

In absolutely HUGE letters, like the ones that says what movies are at the cinema, it said: "Movie lovers wanted, also; Henchmen are needed for our plans of world domination by pink teddybears with chainsaws."

"By Pikachu's beard!" I thought. This was just so new and exciting to me, and still, I really felt an urge to work at that store! The intensely random and funny advert had caught my eyes like a cat surfing a watermelon, and fulfilled it's purpose in this world. Happy advert.

Then I went on to philosophisticate (yes, i made that up) how our world needs a little more randomness and small laughs on a daily basis. People take things far to serious. I mean, sometimes you just have to go wild and make a fool of yourself. (Not to often of course, self respect is not a BAD thing, just MODERATE people 3-D )

Be more casual about your pride...

Like so:

Yes, that is me, and I am damn well proud of it. (The freak in the bed part, at least)

SO, how many of you guys have lately knowingly made a fool of yourself, for the entertainment of yourself and those around you?

Hold your heads up high!

The apocalypse is coming!

Well... no, not really. Hopefully.
But I am sadly currently awaiting the delivery of some pictures for my next dazzling diorama of the world.

Stay tuned.

For those of you who cannot wait, here's a picture of a cat. Kudos to lolcat.com

Also, if this doesn't satisfy your needs (greedy bastard) you WANT to read this webcomic. The awesome-author commands you!

http://licd.com/

Peculiar things to shove in your food-hole

What most people choose to eat, I have little interest in. Mostly, I'll have ceased to care within the duration of their plate-to-mouth fork movement.

HOWEVER, when people start putting truly random, disgusting or weird things in their mouth. (Yes, ten points to every pervert who tought that one through.) I am talking about those seemingly weird traditional courses that you only find in very nationalistic or exotic resturants. The ones that make you go (loudly): WHAT THE FUGGLES? Of course, this is only weird to an introverted hillbilly, and, as the tounge-in-cheek manboy of the world I aim to be, I will have a gander on some of the disgusting dinners. For the greater good.
(Warning: This checkout does not contain oral testing of any kind, and is based on loose knowledge and prejudice.)

As a sign of good sportsman-(/writer)ship, I'll go begin the test with an infamous Norwegian stomachturner. The "Smalahovud." Direct translation would be "Slim-head," but basically it is the head of a decapitated sheep with it's wool plucked off that has been roasted. YES, the eyes and brain are still there. You wouldn't want to miss those goodies? Eh? It is said to be quite tasty if you enjoy oridinary sheep-meat, yet the thought of consuming a head is quite the turn-off for me. Personally, I'd rather try something as weird as the leg of a pig, or the inner meat of a cow. (Oh, how adventurous of me.)

Next up on our little malevolent menu of the day is a Spanish classic. The (well sized) testicles of a bull. As a kind gesture to those of weak spirit, I have chosen to portray this by a bull showing his disagreement, and paying a fine gentlemen back for the imposing treatment of the bull's genitials. Well, eating the reproductive organs of a big animal may be the big dream of some people, yet I will chose to stay far out of both the bull's and the bally-eaty people's way.

Coming up next is a Scottish delicassy. The Haggis. From what I have gathered, this fine meal consists of a lot of junk being put into a sheep's bladder. (Poor sheep, they get battered around a lot.) The taste is described as incomparable, and I do not doubt that this could taste very well. It is, though, a bladder they are eating. The bladder is the big sack of pee. Pee is not very attractive to me, so I will just stay away if possible.

A quick search on the interweb, has, shockingly, proven me wrong in my immediate assumption. The haggis is onion, sheepmeat and other fine stuff boiled in the STOMACH of the animal for three hours. Still, it is cooked within the entrails of a sheep... Okay, if anyone actually makes it for me, I hereby solemny swear to EAT the haggis. Well, at least taste it thoroughly.

Then, last but not least in this cabinet of creative cooking, there is the tradition of certain Asian countries to eat dogs.

Get me right people, I do will not call fowl yet. I am sure that the flesh of a puppy might taste jolly well and all, but upon the moment where we take an animal within our home, name it, play with it, abuse it and (in the worst case scenario) pamper it while dressing the animal up as human; you usually do not eat them.

This is, of course, just a reflection of how I have been raised. If my parents have started off my childhood by pointing at chihuahuas and gently whispering "food" into my ears, I would eat them. Yet, this is not how I am brought up, so this just seems a bit unnatural to me. Still, if old Rover tastes good, why shouldn't we - the dominant species- get to eat them?

I want to thank the random people from which I stole these pictures. I am forever in your debt, but I will most likely not pay you back any.
Also, the site from which I extracted info about Haggis was, of course, Wikipedia.

When people have too much sugar and a lot on their minds:

Here is an excerpt from my MSN conversation with a well-articulated friend of mine, I was overenergetic, and he... well... he was his own, loving, besserwisser self.

Enjoy:


ME: -Moe, the bartender in the Simpsons, is Dutch
-he even wore wooden shoes,
-Badass dude
-(of course, he is dutch afterall!)
(at this point he as not answered me in 20 WHOLE seconds.
-PLEASE give me attention,
-I am high on sugar and low on people to interact with!
-Oh, well screw off then

Friend:
-Hahahaha no kidding
-I knew he was dutch

Me:
Wow?

Friend:
-lol

-That's kinda old news

Me:
-...
-Kinda like YOU
-ZING
Friend:
-Just like the fact that Bart's voice is done by a woman
Me:
-I knew that
Friend:
Ok we're done talking now
Me:
-Cowabunga
Friend:
-You're like class in July
-Damnit!
-You're like school in July!
-No class! x)
Me:
-aaaah, got some lotion? cause that BURNS
Friend:
-lol
Me:
-But however much I enjoy trading insults and verbally jousting, I think I will bury the hatchet (for now)
Friend:
-Goodgood
Me:
-In addition, I am blogging
(yes, I whore my blog around A LOT)
-Topic of the day: Obscene foodstuffs.
Friend:
-LOL
Me;
-In norway we eat boiled sheephead
-Got some tasty Dutch stuff?
-Sausage is also kinda nasty, squished pig entrails stuffed into an... intestine?
Friend
-Do I even wánt to know what brought that idea in your head?
Me:
-What are those long slimy things called, you should know, you fiddle around in them all day,
-Entrails?
Friend:
-Not sure...
-Try www.dictionary.com
Me:
My internet sucks a chipmunk through a windscreen right now, sorry
Friend:
-That would hurt...
Me:
-For a second or so, yes :)
Friend:
-lol
Me:
-Did you know a decapitated head is consious for 10 seconds after being removed from the body?
-... that severely creeps me out
Friend:
-Yeah I know
-Did you know a decapitated chicken moves for more than 10 secs?
(He's a vet-student, so he knows these things...)
Me:
-One actually lived for several weeks...
-don't they need their brain??)
-If you answer "No, kinda like you" now, I'm gonna head down south and hit you once
-ONCE
-!
Friend:
-Haha okay: No, kinda like you
Me:
-Darn!
Friend:
-Come on, bring it! Do your worst!!! :D
Me:
-Ohohoho! Time for payback!
Friend:
-I mean as soon as you come over you'll be blinded by the good beer and dutch girls so it's okay
Me:
-... You know me to well...

Prepare to be blinded by awesome

Do you ever get that incomparable feeling of being so full of ridicolously positive energy that makes you wanna rip of your clothes and (no mom, I'm not writing anything sexual!) run naked into a rainbow of happiness? Okay, the last part there might have been slightly overkill, but come on people, cut me some slack.

My point is, it is not often that you are so full of energy that you feel like you can change the world, and not very many things are able to fill you with that energy. Two of those things, however, are hereby officially pictured in this blog. If the people who own these pictures do not approve of me hijacking them, that is fine. They can send their goons over, and I'll go "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" on their asses. It's kind of hopeless to keep things private on the net, and I think people who doesn't realize should be forced to accept that fact. "How were I to know the nude pictures of your mom would be seen by thousands?" Bah! Blockheads.

Back to the issue at hand. The movies "Yes Man" and "10 Inch Hero" (oh my, that is a sizeable hero.) have made my world a little brighter :) Moviecritics can castrate them both and throw them off a cliff if they want to, and I couldn't care less. Movies that make you smile and look at the world like a big bowl of opportunities are what we need. I like them. Also, Jim Carrey and Jensen Ackles (Pictures) can rock your socks clean off at any given time, if given the opportunity!

Another thing that make me smile, is keeping in touch with friends all around the planet. After a brief trip lasting 3 weeks this summer, destination: Canada. I made a good 25 new fantastic friends, that taught me a lot about our world, and other cultures. They are wonderful people, and that is exactly the same thought that went through my head last night, helped by good old alcohol-consumption.

12 AM I decided that I should start off at the top of my telephonelist, and call everyone I care about on my phone. As the plan went into effect, I had soon chatted up my bro Aidan from Canada, (tried to call) Bart from Holland and had a brief drunk conversation with my man Daniel from The States. Luckily I passed out around the letter F, or my phonebill would make my dad have a business-related meeting between my knecaps and a hammer.

Then, another strange event took place in my life.
Waking up the day after a party is seldomly attractive, but up I woke. Shambling into my living-room, I found my father watching the telly and chilling out. Nearly before I had sat down on our couch, he politely requested that I vaccumed and tidyed our entire house.
Lesser men might have broken into tears, while begging for mercy because they were hung over. Not me, though. Not Wonderboy. I leapt into action, jacked some earplugs into my iPod and then proceeded to vaccum the house while DANCING to some highly energetic irish folksongs.

Never doubt my ability to impress. ;)

Cold Hard Bitch = Kald, hard tøyte

As my hands flutter away across the keys of my sister's laptop, writing this piece of awesome, I consider to a great extent to jam toothpicks under my increasingly heavy eyelids. A weekend at a cabin with family and friends takes it's toll on my beautysleep, and you do not want to undereastimate my beautysleep. My reckless sister (the one who's laptop I am not writing on) decided this morning was a nice one to wake me up by going ballistic in my room, bouncing around the wall until I was awake. This day has not been a pleasant one for her, mark my words.

Alas, my grumpyness and wish for the immedient dismemberment of my charismatic little sibling, is not my topic of today. Today, I will ramble on about... saunas.

"Waterbug, has you enigmatic mastarmind run dry of ideas?" You might ask, but no. It has not.

The sauna, for those not already enlightened to it's purpose; is when a person, or a whole group of (more often than not) men, by their own free-will choose to shut themselves inside a small wooden room, only clad in towels and with an oven from hell on the wall. After a short while the temperature will ineviteably rise, and air-moistness will gain a whole new meaning to the participants. After sweating for a while, the soaked pieces of meat within the sauna will re-emerge, and cool themeselves down with a cold shower (nothing compares) while the more manly men (and women) will throw themselves out through the door, and into piles of snow.

"What the devil's beard is going through the minds of these fools?" One might ask, yet this is a tradition that has survived here in the frozen north for many ages. In theory, the sweat you produce cleanses your pores, and washes away all the dirt you have actively collected on your body. When the water or snow is later applied to the heated bodies, all dirt is removed, an a feeling of unparalelled freshness is experienced. The contrast of incredible heat in the sauna, to the freezing claws of the snow is amazing, and highly reccomended.

My point is; if you have never tried to sit in a sauna until you sweat your glands off, before throwing yourself into snow, you have never lived. Well, you can at the very least not call yourself a northerner.

By the way, the conversations that occur when a group of sweaty lads sit tightly together with nothing but a hankerchief to cover their johnsons, is priceless.