posting without plan, grammar or talent

I have nothing to say. I think this merits bullets. Read at own peril. Pronouns optional.

• Bored.
• Watched "Wet Hot American Summer"tonight. Ever seen it? That's one frigging funny movie. It's the perfect movie for the 13 year old me, except the 13 year old me would not have gotten half the jokes, so it's better for the much-older-than-13 year old me.
• Have been drinking a nice French pinot noir. From the Bourgogne region.
  
• Sauteed some chicken breasts and had those with black beans.
  
• Farting will commence anon.
  
• I really should pack for my trip to London but am instead avoiding everything by noodling about on the web.
• Bad me, bad.
  
• Will procrastinate further by taking a nice hot bubble bath. How decadent is a hot bath with a glass of wine? Woo!
• The bubbles will be made a bit more fragrant with black bean farts.
• Just kidding. Girls don't fart.
  
• Ever.
• We just explode.
• *Poof.*
  
• I really think I am funny here.
• You probably don't agree.
  
• Posts like this are probably why my hit counts have gone down of late.
  
• I don't really care.
• I might just change this post to '100 things about me".
• But I think I am too lazy to do 100 of these bullet points.
  
• This wine is good.
  
• And I have a whole bottle of it.
• Ok, I lie, half a bottle now.
• Yes I am a cheap date.
  
• And a happy drunk.
• I had to look at Borat's crotch again this AM.
  
• Didn't crave limes.
• Craved a lighter so I could burn the cardboard thing down. I am not anti-Borat, I am anti mankini before 9am.
• Have lost ability to write sentences. Can only do phrases.
  
• This is a bad thing for someone who must write at work.
• Told naughty stories at lunch at work today.
• Everyone at work thinks I am a freak.
• Except the Canadian girl I hang with, but she's a freak too.
• I like her.
• She's funny.
  
• She says "eh" and "aboot" just like you'd expect from a Canadian.
  
• I can't stop these bullet points.
• It's addictive.
  
• Help me!
• I think I will use the patchouli romance hippy granola bubble bath when I take my bath.
  
• Which I will go do now.
• Don't picture me naked.
• I bathe in shorts.
• Not.
  

0 for three

We are now 0 for three on making Griff cry. I think he feels my nervousness. I even look at him and hil little mouth curls in rage. Maybe he really DOES sense my evil nature. Damn. (My evilness does not go in the direction of hurting anyone, by the way. I am pacifist evil. My evil runs more towards innuendo and saucy wisecracks. Small attempts at totalitarian domination. Naughty laughter and humorous fart jokes. Hey, that's EVIL, believe me.) Funny how a two month old creature that can't even really focus his eyes yet rules a household completely. As I am the godmother and will have to hold him at SOME point at his baptism, I am not sure what to do. Wear earplugs?

Um...also, is it a problem that I will be a godmother that doesn't really believe in God? Just wondering. Cuz, you know.

I'm on the deck at Mozart's coffeehouse in Beautiful West Austin on a glorious breezy day. Just cool enough for a sweater, but the sun shines so you stay warm. It bounces off Lake Austin and sparkles in my eyes.

AAACK! BIRDS! Attacking! ME!

A guy just walked away from his VERY yummy looking cake and the grackles attacked it in seconds. Unfortunately I am at the table next to him and grackles totally wierd me out. No amount of waving and shooshing will make them fuck off farther than the radius of my frenzied waves. Their beady little yellow eyes stare and scritchy scratchy feet scramble madly about as they attack his cake. Ew...the cake is red and now they look like they have blood on their beaks.

GAACK! Run away! Run away!

I have an appointment to get my hairs (all 4 million of them) cut at 3pm at Sage Salon. Tomorrow I will go to the eye doctor and get that all checked out...and try to get some contact lenses again, to prove to the world that yes, I have eyes and they are actually quite nice when not hidden behind mondo-trendoid Brit Glasses.

Today I met Bookhart for lunch and she is sporting the most KICK ASS haircut and color I have EVER seen her in...and believe me, I have seen her with every hair color known to man (and some that aren't) and haircuts to boot. She looks AWESOME. Annie Lennox sexie lady confident glam. You GO girl. I'm tempted to do something equally drastic and fabulous, but I do not have her perfectly shaped head...mine is sort of squashed in the back or something. I dunno. I think I have so much hair merely as a way to hide my squashy head. I bet I have moles, too.

OK, altogether, now...1..2..3...EEEWWW!

post reunion

Ow.

(grrgg...barf.....grrraarggg)

Ow.


(baaaaarrffff....retch....hurl)

Ow.

........OW.

aftermath

Is there such a thing as beforemath? Like, I had a straight "a" average in school beforemath, but aftermath it dropped to a "c"? Cuz, that, like, totally happened to me?

Ahem.

So, I got my passport back with the visa in it. AND the nice lady at the embassy gave me tons of brochures about Turkey. She's awesome. I heart her.

My bank card, alas, is toast. And I can't get another one before I go. It takes a week! Jeez, so much for service. So I got some USD out of the account here and will have to do an exchange once I get to Turkey. NOT my favorite solution. Luckily I am there with my parents...so, Dad, can I borrow some money? It'll be just like high school. Except now I can drink and cuss and I don't have a curfew. Well, not if they don't give me one......

I am not hungover after my "whine cure" of yesterday. So that's good. I do, however have cramps and will be flying on Day Two. So, pity me. Or, maybe more to the point, pity any poor SOB who dares fuck with me on that day because they will be destroyed. Destroyed by the withering glare of the Girl with the Evil Passport and Non-Magnetized Bank Card of Doom.

My dear husband has my useless passport pictures from yesterday pinned to his bulletin board above his desk. He says they are really good and "you can never have too many passport photos". Um, ok. How come it's always the things you don't really want that they say you can never have too many of? Like socks. You can never have too many socks. But seriously, who the fuck cares about socks? Not me. Unless they are in odd numbers, that pisses me off.

Which leads us to a good example of laundry aftermath.....

good news, bad news

Good news: I am wearing a pair of jeans today that I could not get into a month ago.

Bad news: I may not be able to get back out of them.

Other news: I saw a guy on the train today who looked EXACTLY like my friend Clark in Austin. Except for the fact that he was a goth sort of metal head dude, and dyed his naturally blonde hair black, he looked just like Clark. Clark, you have a darker side doppelganger here in Oslo!

In other OTHER news: To blog trolls: This blog is moderated and policed. Thanks to the miracles of the internet and the fact there really is NO such thing as privacy.....I know who comes here, I also know what your ip address is, how you get to my blog and what your ISP is. I know where you come from. I know a hell of a lot more about you than you think. I do not hesitate to block anyone who posts negativity or personal slams against me. I do not have a problem with healthy debate, but negativity is right out. So.....
Blog trolls, you know who you are, you are not getting through, EVER, so I suggest you go elsewhere. Get a life. Get a job. I don't know....but find something productive to do with your time, ok? I appreciate the obsession, but really, you just don't matter to me and could use your energies better elsewhere. How about taking all that extra time and working for a charity? Might be time better spent. Also? I spoke with your ISP as I do have your IP address, and guess what? I can press charges with the police. I talked with the police, too. They confirmed what your ISP said. I'm keeping records......just so you know.

rising above

Sorry I have been such a lame blogger of late. You know how sometimes the world just decides to make you its bitch and you just sort of have to go with it? It's kind of been like that. Everything's ok, in general, just a sort of low ebb that has cast me into a time of thinking and pondering. We all have those at times. My mom (and my aunt and probably my good friends too) would be telling me to stop thinking and just go out into the world and BE, and I am slowly working my way back to that now. In fact, my aunt bought me a book entitled "Women Who Think Too Much" but I haven't read it yet because, well, I think it might be too thought provoking. How's that for a conundrum?

Anyhow, the world is carrying on in its inexorable movement forwards. Fall is slowly gaining its hold on Norway, and today is one of those perfect crisp clear days you get sometimes in Texas. You know, right after that first Blue Norther runs through and blows away all the heat and guck and just leaves you with "Ahhhh'? It's like that outside. So, I am going to grab the iPod, go for a walk and wander away the thoughts and worries.

However, I did want to leave you with one thing:



While I was in the US this statue(?) appeared in the plaza outside our flat. I am of two minds about it.

First mind is: Aw how cute. And up close, it's really pretty because that mottled texture is actually tiny bits of mirror and porcelain all mosaic-ed into the surface. The kids love climbing on it and it is so Bambi/Creatures of the Forest cute.

Second mind? Holy shit that thing is EVIL. Is it a rat or a deer? See the eyes? The empty, alien slanted eyes? I bet those things glow red at night and suck in the life force of any thing that passes by. It is aimed directly at our flat...I am sure this is why I am so tired. And you see the innocent child sitting so delicately and trustingly in its paw? If you take your eyes away from that rat/deer/alien, for even a second, that hand pops up to the statue's mouth and it opens into a nightmarish slavering maw that EATS CHILDREN whole. But it's all done in a time warp sort of thing so that no one can see it because it happens too fast, yet scarily slow for the victim, so that the child is in an endless hell of getting its legs and arms eaten off. (Like that time in Buffy? Season 6? Where she had the tiny pin on her? That made time warp and flash but no one noticed it but her? Because the Triumvirate were trying to fuck with her head? Yeah, like that.)

I swear, I leave for a week and the forces of cartoon evil come to my doorstep. It's. Looking. At. Me.