Edinburgh, Buses, Brown Turtles and Feminism

The United Kingdom is a breathtaking experience, and I am so thrilled that I have the chance to visit its fair hills and particularily the grand city of York.

Holy flatulent cow on a pogo stick, this country rocks. Since me and my class arrived we have been treated to exquisite architecture and awesome language and beer made by people who obviously loves the stuff. I am stunned, and not even a pirate riding a pegasus could persuade me to leave just yet.

Although you might be able, Captain Chimp-Chimp.

However, I have also visited Edinburgh this weekend, and MAN did that city show me how it's done. When the new day rose grumpily from its bed, scratched its fresh arse and peered over the horizon, we strutted out from our hostel to see the Scottish marvel of our dreams. It was much more. The first thing we witnessed was the incredible phallic marvel of gothic architecture known as the Scott Monument. Wikipedia tells me that it was completed in 1844 and is approximately 6o meters tall. In any case it had nearly 300 steps and it was a delight to skip and hop to the very top so we could witness the imperial elegance that is Edinburgh, and the sturdy and resiliant hills and crags that penetrate and look over the city. Then, to top it all, a street-musician started to play "Amazing Grace" on his bagpipes. The moment was complete.

Aye, certainly nothing penile about this.

While in Edinburgh, we made use of the excellent Princes Street for our shopping needs, and bought enough 360 games to make your eyes bleed. For the cute little sum of £ 50. Yes, for the price of one cheap game in Norway, you can get 5 in Scotland. Guess where I want to go. The HMV Store on Princes Street was also a gamer-haven like you would not believe. I tried Microsoft's new Kinect there, and it actually works. My wish-list for Santa this year just got a helluva lot more expensive. (And if you followed that link, you'll see why that concerns me.) I also bought a scarf with the tartan-pattern of Edinburgh on it, and has added a new life-quest to my list. Collect all of the major cities in Scotland.

Even this one, so help me Obi-Wan

While in Rome, do like the Romans. But when in Edinburgh, hike up the Salisbury Crags! At least, that is what I and my fine compatriots set out to do. Armed with good faith and tickets for the bus, we ventured towards the Crags. At least for the first 10 minutes. After we had arrived at the third town over, we started to be a bit uncertain about wheter or not we would ever start going back to the mighty hills. A quick query with the driver asserted our positions as complete tossers. Still prideful, we strode out of the bus and over to the other side to spend another HOUR backtracking into town. Alas, time well spent; we can boast about having seen the Queen Margaret's University. It was ok. This reminded me only too well about this summer's adventure to the Hove-festival, where I managed to board the train going in the wrong direction and sleeping outside on the bus-station until I could catch a ride to Drammen.

A fair desription of the relationship between me
and collective transport

This whole trip has also led me down the scary and dark and horrid and unspeakable path of thinking a bit. Now I know why many Scandinavians are uneasy around our new countrymen from the middle east: TV-shows for kids.

Say whaaat?

I am genuinely not kidding. Most Norwegians of my generation and a couple of the previous ones sat down each day at 6 and marveled at the adventures of a certain character called Mummitrollet. (The Moomintroll.) This show also aired in numerous other countries, but since its origin is close to Scandinavia, I'll go with what I experienced.

Now, I am under no circumstance trying to endorse racism, or some people's fear of ethnic people. It is silly and unneccesary and as helpful as a Hobbit-basketballer. However, I can now clearly see how some unfortunate people are jarred for life. You see, Mummitrollet is a happy little chubby lad that lives in the Moomin-valley.

In da Hood

Everything is mostly palatable for the spherical little fellow, except when a Hufsa, or "The Groke" steps by to look ominous, sad and infineately scary at the same time. As I said, with no intention of insensitivity, feminist and religious aspects aside: Would you really be unaffected when you see a woman dressed like this:

"Zup?"

After seeing this:

My guess is no, and you might want to lock your door tonight, because Hufsa might be right outside your door, lonely, sad, and terrifying.

Sleep Fighting

Before our summervacation, I was part of a movieproject where an insanely talented young editor from my town asked me to help him with a short movie. Glad to help, I joined him, and wound up with the main role.

Now the movie is edited to completion, and it is among the things I am most proud to have been a part of.
Enjoy it!

All credit goes to Daniel Volle for making this awesome thing.

Cause your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance then they're NO friends of mine

-Well you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man. No time to talk.
Bee Gees.

So, initially I intended to make this post a casual yet devastating gateway into the mind of an outcast teenager, but what the hey, Awards for Literature will have to wait as I DO have to write about my vacation in Spain and Sweden.





After having a ball back in Norway, even after enduring the tragic loss of a dear classmate, (Rest in peace, Knuttis.) and hanging out with my beloved gang of rascals, (causing incidents like the one below... yes we tried to mow the roof, big laugh, wanna fight about it?) and attending the most EPIC consert of my life. (AC/DC has still got whatever makes us retarded for them, and will continue to have that essence of awesome imbibed in their music and performance for many years to come. Seeing Angus and Brian on stage was like having a religious orgasm and the Devil skullfucking (pardon the offensive lingo)
my ears into oblivion. I was flabber- gasted and speecheless and god knows how many other verbs affected me at the time. It was, in short, sweet.

After rocking Norway, and saying my goodbyes to all the lovely people I continually miss like Coke on a hot day, I set off to the fabled land of blondes and cheap meat. Sweden.

In Sweden I just happened to be the High DJ of my cousin's wedding... okay, I just pressed a button twice, but I do feel that the wedding could not have proceeded successfully
without me. Kinda. In any event, I really
enjoyed being 18 at a swedish wedding,
and it was fun to be liquored up by my cousin and his friends who have known me since diapers was my choice of apparel.
In addition, I felt like quite the little Che Guevara in my brown SNEAKERS at a WEDDING. (Crowd gasps and faints, frail
women are carried out on stretchers.)

Then, ladies and... okay... forget it....lady who is reading this... mom...
anyhow: Then... I went to Spain. Oh dear allmighty Yoda, I went to Spain!
2 weeks of chilling and drinking and hanging with some awesome and lovely people, and then my awesome and lovable bros stopped by for a week in our own appartment. Casa de Sogn was a reality, and we did so much fun, crazy and messed up shit that I am not allowed to talk about half of it. I can, however, tell you that I pulled off a nearly perfect Double Backflip, only slightly hurting my knees... and face... and balls... with a slightly smacky pain. I also went out on the town dressed like a pirate and tried to do the Michael Jackson "Thriller" dance. Sorry, Mike, that was probably the worst tribute to you ever.

Well, that's it for now. The next time I will write about something that makes sense, for once.

Vacation and suchness

Quite scurvy pirates in Spain. Arryarr

The following is an actual excerpt of a dialouge between two of the millions of voices in my head:

-Man, I have really got to stop demolishing my nights like this.

-Shut up gigglebutts, and keep that hand of my lower thigh.

-I mean, why do I keep staying up late just to watch

-PORN!

-No, I keep watching that ridicilously awesome show "Arrested Development" (Ka, and might I add FUCKING POW that show kicks ass.) and chat with my beloved, and scratch my thigh.

-I told you to stay off the thigh, hombre. Now I'm a lay down a thunderstorm of whoop-ass on ya.

-Whatever, I am going to sleep now.

... Okay, I lied. This conversation never occurred, and most certainly not within the fortifications of my highly functional brain. You may now adore me for being funny.

This is a girl whose charms I have grown very fond of.Glad i deg Elice

In other news, I have had a ROCKING month abroad. Headed over to my cousin living in Sweden, the man went and got hitched so I attended the wedding and had one hell of a time. Swedish people can dance.

This was just the beginning of a sweet trip that proceeded onwards to Spain, La Manga.

Two bros in La Manga

You might remember the one on the left as the creator of HappyJuice©

Tellings of that tale will require far more awakenness than I can muster at the moment, so I shall retire and wait for the proper moment to spring my story.

In ordinary-speak, that means: I am lazy and tired, so I'll be posting it later.

-What do you mean about Horse?

Simen

Clubbing, hard!

Leiv Olav in the back
Gøran Rømo Mogaard is the new king of pop.

Woho! <3

Elice-e-tøff!

The Red Bull story and more gladness.

So, I apologize for my absence the last days that may or may not have been caused by a Red Bull induced blackout that may have sent me on a mental roadtrip through Happytown.

Howevvah!
On to my epic tale of semen and Spain.

I was sitting in a bar by the seaside, sipping on the wonderfully blue and silver boxes containing bliss, when a somewhat tipsy Spanish dude dumped down next to me and greeted me with a slurred "Hóla!"
Always pleasured by new aquintances I greeted him back with an overenthusiastic wave and took a sip of 'Bull.
"You know what that means?" I suddenly heard from my left. The Spanish dude had a cheeky grin on his face and pointed at the can where it said "Contains Taurine."
"Naah?" I answered. He laughed, and told me that a can contained 0'4% of the stuff, then he asked me again what I thought it could mean.
Then he revealed the horrible answer.
"Taurine, means bull semene. Bull sperm!" and laughed like a hyena on weed.
I didn't drink RB for a week.

Then I discovered that Taurine is a proteine that is a part of making the bull semen. Not the semen in itself. (Thank god, or I would have a trillion of small calves swimming around in me)
And I mean a trillion. Because - when avaiable I drink it like a gold miner drinks beer.

On another note, this is my bro making his new invention. "Happy Fun Juice."©
The recipe will be guarded with our life, because when he dies, he will be serving the stuff in heaven. It's like a roundhouse kick in the tounge, but in a good way. I mean, like if you see something awesome, and discover its' yours. That drink is rosepetaled bliss covered in chocolate sunshine and happy smiles.

Last but not least... Guess.... just guess which AWESOME band worshipped by me and millions more I am going to see on monday!
I am so excited I need a restraining order against myself! Let there be rock!

Hey, are ya good? Yeah I'm good, I'm doing super!

Hey, yeah. Hi. How are ya, gang??

REDBULL IS LEGAL IN NORWAY!!
Smell ya later, gonna go pass out from insomnia and caffeine!
Gonna tell you an awesome story about Red Bull tomorrow.
I am love Redbull muches!
Sleepy.
I like Red Bull.

I try to behave, yet sometimes....

-Every song ends,but that's not a reason to not enjoy music.

Hey guys.
I'm back from the stack with crack,
now I'm talkin' smack with Mr. Jack 'n shit.

That was a rap in your face.

So, on to my rant of the day, and beware, because today little Mr. Smartypants is gonna whip religion for all it is worth. Am I going to be offensive? Maybe. Will I be controvercial? Perhaps. Will religious people want to hang me by my nuts? All the time, babe!

So, let's back this broad up to start.
I had just gotten out of bed, and was rummaging through my kitchen after something edible that would refrain from poisoning me. Then, all of a sudden, I realised that the radio was on and that some scientist was talking about an archeological find that seemed to be the "missing link" between animals and humans. The fossil in question has been named Ida, and I am a little proud that it is Norwegian paleantologists that research the fossil now. The fossil was found in Germany. Looking something like that --->

"Fair enough", I thought, "then that problem is gone like a cup cake in the hands of the Cookiemonster."
HOWEVER, the media, in their eternal wisdom and pursuit of equality (you might think the last sentence a sarcasm, but I am honestly very supportive of freedom of speech and thought. It is our greatest achievement and a obligatory part of every democracy!) had decided to not only let the excited professors and archeologists jabber on about their find, but stopped by the house of an old codger to interview a creationist about the find...

For those of you that doesn't know what the consept of creationalism is, just check our nearest christian holy book. Basically, it is the conviction that our planet, every sentinent being on it and our entire universe is not the result of billions of years of evolution, coincidences and the survival of the fittest, but that God has created it all. Many also belive that the Tale of Creation is an exact depiction of how our universe was created.

Now, I don't have much in favour for religion in general, and I know that my point of view must not make me indifferent to other opinions. However, it staggers me to no extent that people can choose to ignore evident scientific facts!

The creationist on the radio commented that the pre-historic lemurfossil was "looking like a little lizard" and how "it's only 3... how can it be our fore-mother?"

I started screaming obsceneties to the radio, waking my sister and making my cat look oddly at me. How can anyone be so ignorant? We have Carbon dating! We can now to a T when the critter died, and it was 47 million years ago! Stick that in your bible and pray it! Paleantologists can also see that their teeth and skeletal structure somehow matches ours.

The last argument for creationism the old coot said REALLy tipped me over. "Science proves that during the great flood 96% of the species on our planet died."
Science... he actually managed to use the word science in defence of his believes. According to his holy book, the flood was a couple of thousand years ago. When did the dinosaurs die out? 64 million years ago. Why? Most likely because of a meteor and LEAST likely because they were heathens and punished by God.

I do admire people who have faith in a religion, but using 2000 year old scripts as "proof?"
They are fine guidelines, and make for many good moral questions, but proof of God creating everything? Well... that I do not believe. I find the theory of Big Bang a lot more plausible, for MANY reasons. (fx. our universe is expanding.) But what sparked the massive explosion that created the universe? Well.... that might be a higher being. Who am I to know? But he sure as hell hasn't interacted much with humankind in later years.God, if you do exist, meet me in the woods outside my house. If i'm wrong, you may slap me. If you don't show up. Well, your loss.

I want to save the world, can someone tell me where to start?

Well, this chick has totally seen what we are being tricked into doing. This is the Story of Stuff and it tells us about how we are insane consumers that will eat this planet alive like zombies that has smelled Einsteins' brain.
Yum, small graysies. Zombie likes.l

Anywhoo, that's it for today. More thorough update coming soon.

Peace & love, y'all.

Quote of the day:

NONSENSE, POOPYPANTS!!!
-Jim Carrey as Ace Ventura

Whoring my life, then opening your naughty eyes to the truth!

Hello faboulous beings on the planet earth. It's me, your benevolent bastard.

I have been absent for quite some time, because fate and destiny has conspired and hired henchmen like teachers, organisations around town, ninjas, orange cats and even my own parents to preoccupy me to a such extent that I haven't had the time to sit down and let my art flow unto the net.



The pictures you see around here are some of my utterly awesome and loved friends, the only good explanation to how I care about these people (and the rest of you) can only be described by this song: You're My Best Friend - Queen
There, said in an utterly non-gay fashion. I mean, no one can relate gayness to this band or song? Right?

All righty then, on to more pressing issues.... and we're out of time. Exams are raping me, these months... sorry gang.
However, I promise on my mothers left leg and my fifth born child that I WILL return with random facts and views on life.
Like: Your mom's a lousy lay. (just kidding, she's great)

Running free with my hat in a spin

Well, I'd like to start of this little masterpiece of awesome art with a fun fact from last night. While walking from my friend's house in a slight beer-induced stupor, I suddenly felt the irresistible need to sprinkle the trees by the side of our current path. In a casual manner, I flipped it out and commenced sprinkling... only to realise I had placed my potatos and a bit of my carrot on the world's most evil and cunningly placed burning nettle! It still stings.
What has this got to do with the topic of the day? Nothing, but I kinda felt I had to grab your attention fast and hard. OY! WAKEY WAKEY!
One week ago (yes, I am currently a lazy son of a mother with only so much time on my hands to write awesomeness) me and my gang of athlethic madmen went to Førde for a contest where youth from our entire county participated with different cultural shows. Everything from satanmetalrockblood to classic violin or balett makes an appareance and among them were a band of liberated souls, of exquisite acrobatic elegance and finesse. Free Running Sogndal (my crew) rocked the town that day, yet we didn't proceed to the finals. Frankly, I don't worry so much about the fact that we didn't win. My focus has and will always be on delivering a kickass show. However, when the feeble and apathic bureaucrats in Førde decided to pu on a monstercareface and then proceed to massively shrug when we politely tried to get them to deliver the effects we needed (two picnictables and a clean stage) my panties went in a twist and I added them to THE LIST. The list of people I am very discontent with, and that will feel my wrath if I am ever given a position of power. (I am watching you, creator of Teletubbys)

We had to find and bring our own stuff, and the stage was way to small, lowering our achievements on stage. In any case, I am mad as a cow on steroids with the lubbering bunch in Førde, yet extremely content with my boys. They have really gotten a long way from messing up floorrolls.

In other news. TADAH ->
I have comandeered a new piece of head - equipment and it has a + 100000 sweetness rating. I do love my hats long time, and since my old hat of manliness and potence was ripped and destroyed some time ago, I felt the time was ripe for a new one.
A fun fact is that it seems to look good on anyone...

Well, my time of wringing random thoughts onto the web for no other reason than being an attention whore is over. Thank you and goodbye.

PS: Got any tips for removing the pain induced by burning nettles? For once I can honestly say, MY GONADS ARE ON FIRE!
Lesson of the day? Never coc*slap a burning nettle!

Being a helpy helper!

Been disconnected from the interwebs for a little while.
Been at a CISV camp, met wonderful people, fooled around in the snow, snuggled and many other wonderful loving activities.
Loved them all.
However, SPRING IS HERE! yabba-dabba-doojah!
I can finally shed my winterclothes and emerge as the laid back chillaxer I am. (Nicely put)
Gone is tons of warm sweaty attirements and in their place is loose shorts, tshirts, comfy shoes and pilot-glasses.
Love.

Yes, I am aware that I am behaving, and writing like a giggly schoolgirl on prozac but that is NEVERTHELESS the effect a hot sun has on me... and an increased amount of bare female skin.
Also, I am totally getting a Rubix cube, and renewing my vow to take up harmonica-playing.
For real, this time.














Got a bit short, this time. But enjoy the pics.

Giving two weeks the awesome-treatment

The last two weeks (before this one) has been sacrilicious!

A very good chickfriend of mine (I am very discontent with the english language for not providing a non-relationship-implying comparative to girlfriend.) returned home for two weeks, because she was working at a school here, and we had a blast!

On March 8th (The Ladies' day) we went to see the chickflick of the century, "The Women." An hour and a half later, we emerged, and my dear Natalie was ashamed and resigned at the way I had behaved. Yeah, my friends do that a lot, yet they love me somehow. Strange.
Anyhow, I had been moaning and sighing like a depressed moose, and also placing suitable comments in the scenes I found tasteless or vulgar. (Read: Every) This resulted in some hilarious looks in my direction. Still.... okay, here goes. I HEREBY PUBLICLY AND OFFICIALLY APOLOGIZE FOR THE WAY I BEHAVED AT THE CINEMA THE 8th OF MARCH! That one was for both her and the pussywhipped guys and their dominators in the back.

Before that, we attended the most random drunk-fest around. After witnessing the "alpha-males" displaying their testosterone, and being harassed for a bit by braindead homophobes from Planet Asshat, we headed for a kickass naschpiel! We talked about sexlife and fetishes for a while, then spent some hours annoying a third friend that was fast asleep on the couch, but after a while her brother showed up and magically transformed a lot of ingredients into a meal worthy of kings! After stuffing my face, we rocked a bit unsteadily out on Guitar Hero, before I headed to bed.

The last thing I can remember on the fly, is an amazingly nice visit to our town's China House for a dinner, where I could vent my frustrasions, (sexual and otherwise) and she could whine about her loved loving lovy lover, who is out at sea for a while. The inconsiderate bastard.

Thanks for stopping by Talie, I've greatly enjoyed your company ^^ <3

Now, onto more pressing issues, who do I have to see to implement the Norwegian word "veninne" for chick-friend into the English language? Time to kick ass and take names!

Also, Natalie, thank you for letting me use that old badass stupidface pic. We sure look good.

Quote of the day
"'Cause when you worry, your face will frown. And that will get everybody down, so don't worry. Be happy"

-Booby McFerrin

Bringing out the big guns

Before you ask, yep, the blueheaded lunatic in red scarf is me, myself. I had been modeling and gotten an extreme makeover on my personal roof. End of story.

It's springish and I am bringing out my trusted Batracer. A black bolt of lightning that sends tremors all the way to China when I rev the engine and hear it's apathic lion-roar! Crowned with two faded blood-red stickers of AC/DC's logo and more attitude than a spoiled teenager in a stolen car.

And with my awesome ride comes road rage from a whole other world! You might tell me rally-racers have guts, or that drifters or underground-racers are brave. I'll tell you as much, son, we two-wheeled brothers of pure hardcore zooming around on our motorized stools have got the biggest HUEVOS you can imagine! How else would we deal with everyday lifethreatening situations? You can sit in your hum-vee, the size of a small house, and feel safe as an armoured turtle, while I get more of a face-on interaction with other vehicles. It's when you can see the white in the eyes the drivers around you you have the most absurd experiences. Like when I was sit-dancing on my way home to "I'm so excited" (yes, absurdely hetero-sexual of me) and I get passed by a family of five that applaud me through open windows.

The most hilarious thing I have ever seen, however, was when I was holding a steady 50 km/h (my insanely high top-speed) and get passed by a red sedan. This might seem uneventful, so I will add that this car had been stuck behind me for a while. Then, as I look over to who was passing me, as I usually do, I see a wrinkly old face, two thin lips pressed hard together, and a wrinkly middle finger raised in my general direction . Yes, I got flipped off by an old woman passing me...

I have never been the same.

So have mercy and show a little respect for scooter-drivers. We deal with a lot of random things daily. A lot.

ALERT!!!

I would like to issue a warning to the consumers of beer and other alcohol and party-related consumeties. Also, I would make a reccommendation for the producers of said yummy-in-the-tummy products.

WILL YOU DEAR-GOD-PRETTY-PLEASE print warnings on the containers saying something like: "May lead you thinking you can dance!" or "Is capable of making you belive you are a young and caucasian Michael Jackson. (oh wait, SATIRE!)

In any case, I had an awesome weekend, two parties in a row and just one heck of a time.
Now I'm going to bed. I am sleepy, and my legs hurt.

Moving free like a messy monkey.

I have realised that just reading my junk cannot be all that great. (Even though I am a masterful writer.) So I have just looked around on the net to find a couple of things that relate to my daily life and personal philosophy.

I was skimming through material for learing the art and lifestyle of Free Running on the net, and came upon a clip that just really spoke to me. It's about a group of professional Freerunners, just sitting around and talking about what goes through their head as they move around.

I completely agree upon it all, and I love the way they have no idea what they are saying, but at the same time they could have freaking PhD's in it. These guys are the sit, they are what it's all about. In a way they feel like brothers, as the mindset is so much the same. Just watch it, and you know what I'm talking about. They are messy, but they know their stuff.
The lifestyle of a freerunner is quite logically a free one, and I love it. It's all about moving through things that seems impassable, and having a great time and laugh while doing it! Just act naturally, and become one with your movements.

Well, it's late, and I am sleepy. Check the clip out, and see what I mean.

Move free! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xgZr1w8ydU

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...