Archive for May, 2011

No new bullshit

Every post is a repost of a repost.

That’s an old internet saying, or an old chan saying. Not part of the rules of the internet, although the rules of the internet can be found here. It’s quite a humorous read, that is if you understand it, but that will be your problem not mine. If there are things that makes you go “These foreigners are using such strange words in these rules” then I suggest you use google. If you don’t know what google is I only hope to God that you will NEVER reproduce.

However, I feel the need to complain about something. Sadly, I’m now in what some newspapers call a down period when it comes to news; nothing really exciting happening so they just come up with a bunch of news that no one really cares about. So, I thought I should tell you guys about the six empty coke cans on my desk.

They’re bought in Norway, so if I return them I’ll get 1 NOK(around 9-10 pence) a piece, which will give me 6 NOK all in all, enough to buy… hell, you can’t buy anything for 6 NOK in this country. Maybe a tiny piece of chocolate, but nothing more. So I have 6 rather worthless cans sitting(or is it standing? They have no ass or feet, so it’s kinda hard to pick the right word) on my desk, and I’m gonna do the right thing and recycle them. I could just throw them in the bin, but I’m doing my part for saving the environment. You assholes probably just chuck everything in the bin. Swines. Think about your children!!!!

Like pretty much any can of coke, they’re red and white. Shocking, isn’t it? I know. I had to look several times before I realised that it actually was coke.

Jesus Christ. This is one of the most severe forms of writer’s block you’ll ever witness. I’m writing about empty coke cans, like it’s some sort of new scientific exploration that I can patent. “I swear. With these new EMPTY cans of coke I can create energy out of nowhere and break the laws of thermoydynamics!” (This is about the first law of thermodynamics, which is explained in a horrid way and you will just have to take my word for it… suckers). I’m glad I don’t have an editor. He or she would probably now be yelling in my ear to deliver, threatening to send me to a Shaolin monastary where I’d be spending the rest of my life as a punching bag in the ballkicking section.

A decent human being would probably apologise for exposing you guys for such a horrible post, but I never claimed to be a decent human being and thus I’ll just laugh at you for having so little to do that you’ve actually read through it all. Always good to finish with an insult.


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I wish I could wake up tomorrow and be 67 and retired. Right now that’s pretty much what I look forward to. To be old and grey and not waking up at 6 in the morning and think “I gotta go to work today”. You might be wondering why a 24yo suddenly want to age 43 years over the night, but there are some good reasons to suddenly become old.

First of all people won’t look at me strange when I say “In my time, when I was young”. The strange thing is that at 24 I can actually say those words and it’s legitimitate. When I was young the cartoons were actually entertaining and not supposed to be educational or moral in any way. The Scooby Doo show’s only moral was “don’t be a criminal and dress up like a ghost or monster, because if you do some kids and a dog will bust your ass and send you to jail”. It was either that, or “cops are useless, their jobs are so easy that even teenagers can do it and catch them in a way that doesn’t require guns”. Anyway, they weren’t trying to tell you that 2+5 equals 7.

Second, what’s worse than a retired person who’s a first class asshole. Whenever someone talks to you you can go “What? What? WHAT? Speak up!” even when you can hear them perfectly and then in the end go “Calm down, I’m not deaf!” as a cherry on the top. As an old person you have a whole lot more leeway than as someone who’s in their 20’s. You can trip someone as they walk past you with your cane and odds are they’ll apologise or just not say anything when they see you’re old.

As an old person, you can easily be a burden to society. Maybe I’m a narcissist, but when the ice lays thick on the pavement I will walk out to buy shit that I really don’t need on my shaky feets, then trip over and break some of my fragile bones and then my hospital bills will be payed for by the younger generation’s hard earned tax money. It’s something that will give relief to the pain.

Should I ever end up having grandchildren I can tell them complete and utter lies about how I was when I was their age. Hell, I can tell any child complete and utter lies. How I fought dinosaurs(only works on smaller children) and other lies. Most people will shake their heads, but since you’re an old person, most kids will accept your lies. And to give them ultimate proof you bribe them with ice cream or candy(preferably something that’s past it’s expery date. You’re old, who expects you to be able to read those tiny little dates. Bonus if there are tiny pieces of mould on them).

These are the pro’s I can think of right now. My blood has a redish colour, which means I’m lacking plenty of coke in my blood to make it black, so my creativity is a bit low. I guess that’s something I just gotta live with, just like you gotta live with reading a rather crappy blog post. If anyone has any connections with Coca Cola Company I would love to sign a deal for them. My blog is for sale and I will have no problems signing every blog post with “Drink Coke. It will turn you into a superhero” if they send me enough of the heavinly juice.  Until next time

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I don’t know why I do it. I know it all too fucking well, yet still I go through with it. Not every year, but in 24 years of breathing(sometimes struggling to do this simple task) on this planet I’ve been doing it at least 14-15 times on the same date, every year. 17th of May. For those of you who knows jack shit about Norway other than that we dish out the Nobel Peace Prize and we kick ass in skiing, I’ll give you a brief(and yes, it will be brief in the usual meaning of the word) to what this day is all about.

In 1814 some powerful Norwegian dudes decided that it might be a good idea to draft up a new constitution since we were now free from the Danish(Norway was under Danish rule until the end of the Napoleon war and then handed to Sweden as “prize” for joining the winning side) and that the Swedes were so stupid that they hadn’t managed to get their hands on us just yet. 17th of May this constitution was finalised(not really, but it’s complicated and I won’t get into it. Just go with the flow on this one and be as oblivious as the other 95% of the Norwegian population) and thus 17th of May has become our national holiday, where we cheer and go “Yay us!”, pretty much like 4th of July in the US, only we do it better because we’re Norwegians.

So 17th of May consists of parades in every city, town and countryside where there lives more than 10 people. We wave our flag, a pand marches while playing marches and songs that pretty much consists of “Yay Norway, we are the best.” This is the day of the year where the children compete in how many hotdogs and icecreams they can eat before they get sick and complain to their mum or in best case throws up(come on. What’s more awesome than a kid complaining about feeling ill and then throwing up a bunch of half chewn hotdogs and 5-6 ice creams?). They don’t do it because we’re very nice people, it’s just that if you manage to suffer through one of those parades you actually get a reward. And it’s not like those lazy ass American parades, where they spend big bucks to drive trucks through it; we actually get our asses off the couch and we WALK. This is something America could adopt, but seeing as half of the population would have a heart-attack after 100 meters I guess the idea isn’t all that good.

Anyway, when you play in a band, either it’s as a kid or adult, you march on these parades and you play. We did a bit of calculation yesterday and came to the conclusion that we probably marched around 15 km or so. That’s 9,3 miles for you wankers who stick to the absurd imperial system. Now you might think this isn’t all the much, and go “I’ve walked longer than that in a day and I didn’t get tired or beat up.” If you say this you’re either one of those work out freaks who prefers walking over the North Pole than having sex, or you’re lying. If you’re neither, then try this;

First off, you’re gonna march. Not walk, march. You will keep a steady pace of 120 steps per minute and you’re gonna walk both uphill and downhill. You will walk on paved or cobble roads, so there’s no soft ground like grass or gravel. The only comofortable thing you’re allowed to wear is shoes, but they HAVE to be black. Black trainers is not allowed. We’re talking the type of shoes you could wear to your suit. You will have to wear a pair of wollen pants, a bit loose, a shirt and a wollen jacket, basically anything that resembles a band uniform. And finally, fill a backpack with 15 kilos(or 33 pounds for the rest of you) and put it on so the stuffed shit is on your chest.

In case you haven’t already figured it out, marching and playing the tuba is tough work. It requires lungs and legs and a back that can handle it, but even if you got all this by the end of the day you will hurt like hell. I doubt there is one person that when we’re done goes “Oooo, that was fun. Let’s do another one!!!” and seriously means it. If he/she does so, then he/she is insane.

So we’re back to the old question that have been asked since the dawn of time and by every man who’s getting married; why the hell am I doing this? Like the man who’s about to be legally miserable I am without a clue. Of course everyone who plays in a band as an adult has a screw or two loose in their head, but still, that’s not enough to suffer through a day like that. Many say that if they don’t do it, then they feel something is missing. It’s not just a day off, it’s like something just isn’t right, sort of like if your teenage daughter hasn’t told you she hates you that day. Playing in a band is a bit like marriage; you know there will be good days and you know there will be bad days. Unlike the marriage, you know specificially that one of the bad days will always be 17th of May.

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The US President has his first 100 days in office as a sort of landmark, I have my first 24 hours on a blog site as a landmark. Not because I within 24 hours have gotten a million readers, but because after 24 hours my blog has yet to be taken down by the admins to be offensive in every possible and impossible way, or simply been taken down with the reason “Our lawyers aren’t expensive enough to handle the lawsuits you will generate”. So hopefully this blog will still be unseen by the admins, because I doubt it will be within the guidelines of this site. Are there guidelines on this site? I have yet to read them. Maybe I should, so I know what I can write and which rules I will ignore.

I read a news article the other day, a rather disturbing article actually. It was about a bunch of feminists trying to shut down a sex shop. Not the brothel kind of sex shop, but a shop that was selling sex toys and legal porn, approved by the authorities to be within the rules. So this chap was not breaking any laws and he wasn’t doing anyone any wrong, he was just setting a business, and these feminists wanted to close down his shop. Why? Because he was selling porn.

Now what’s wrong with porn? Well, as we’ve all heard, porn makes women look like sexual objects and that by watching porn a man’s view on women will be this; they should be blonde, skinny, have big boobs and be able to do all kind of sexual things that a man desires. Also they should scream a lot. That’s what the radical feminists say.

Now before I go on I would like to say that I support the women’s rights for equal pay and a man shouldn’t get a job just because he’s a man. However, these man hating self righteous bitches who brands all men as pigs and all men should be locked in labour camps because all we do is make the world a shitty place won’t get any support or any sympathy from me.

Here’s a newsflash for you that you might want to consider; men who watches porn do NOT get their view on women from porn. They don’t sit down, watch 5 min of porn and get off and then get up and think “Hmmm, I think that’s how every woman should be and I will now become a politician so that every woman turns out like those girls.” I doubt there has ever been a man who has thought that. If you feminists have ever dated a man that gets his view on women from porn or commercials where women show up in bikinis, then let me tell you this; his view on women is not your biggest problem.

Since I’m a decent guy(I think I was before I could talk) I’m not gonna suggest that these women get sent to the labourcamps that they want men to go to, but I do hope that the media start ignoring the stubborn old hags and don’t give them the press time they so desperately crave for. I’m thinking what if they actually spent their time on fighting for the causes that really matters, equal rights and pay for women and men and all that, instead of branding all men as pigs. Try working with us and not against us, and you might be able to see that we are good for something.

You have no idea how good that felt. OK, I’ve talked about a big thing this time so I’ll move on to a couple of weeks of pure bullshit from now on.

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So here I am. Writing a blog. Who would have known. I bet that I once swore that if I ever started a blog I would bring a mixture of sharp and blunt instruments to my groin region handled by the most sadistic people you would find in prison, but like any stereotypical man I have forgotten that I once said it and I will thus ignore it and say “It’s not true. I swear it”.

So what makes someone write a blog? Boredom? Lack of social life? Maybe a total lack of life in general. I bet the last one. At least that’s true in my case, because Playstation Network is still down(which I think Sony could get up soon. I missed Alan Wake because I didn’t go to Xbox). Who am I kidding. I never played online anyway. Ignore that last part so you still have the illusion that I have something of a life and isn’t a complete miserable basement dweller that will end up as a burden to society. When I think about it, I actually am a burden to society, but that’s for medical reasons not social.

When I come to think about it, I should have called this blog “Digress” or something like that, because I really have a god damn PhD in that. I will start talking about the current situation in the Middle East and after half an hour of non stop talking I’ll be explaining why Genghis Khan was a sucessful conqueror and how he created the greatest empire ever seen on Earth. If you want to talk to someone about basically anything in the world, I’m your man. However, I will try to avoid digressing too much on here, but no promises.

Right now you’ve read three paragraphs of  what is pure bullshit and you’re still thinking “What the hell are you gonna write about in here?” The answer to that is pretty simple: I have no freakin idea. This is as spontaneous as a woman going shopping(and yes, I LOVE stereotyping and will be doing a shitload of it in here). I can at least tell you what I won’t be writing about;

1) Details about my sex life: I have no reason to share how many times I orgasmed last night with you guys. If you wanna know those things, you go somewhere else. You won’t be reading about how I did a girl in many impossible ways last night, but if you want that sort of things there are other places to go, I just have no idea where. Try Google.

2) My innermost feelings: This is not a place where I will pour my heart out and cry while I tell you how miserable I felt this day because the busdriver ignored me when I pushed the stop button and now it feels like the whole world is ignoring me. This has never happened to me, but I won’t be saying similar things anyways.

3) Minute details about my life: I won’t be telling you that today I had three slices of bread with cheese and salami for breakfast and that I ate 10 grapes afterwards. I have no interest of reading this about other people and I doubt you have any interest in reading this about me. However I might tell you that I got piss drunk last night and that I now have a hangover from hell.

I bet there are several other things that I probably won’t write about, but these are the main things, at least that I can think of right now. I can promise you that I will rant a lot, a whole lot, about anything that pisses me off. Either it’s Justin Bieber breaking safety protocols on an airplane(I think the air stewardess should have been harder on him and told him to get the hell off the plane) or it’s shampoo commercials, I will rant about it. I might even go so far as to talk about big political things, like the war in Libya and how Donald Trump should have his mouth sewn shut, but I guess there’s a great risk of pissing people off if I do that. Who am I kidding? I love pissing people off and this is MY blog(insert very evil laughter here).

If you’ve come this far, you’ve already realised that I can write very long posts. I won’t apologise for that. I guess it just shows that I have little to no life(and I guess you should look yourself in the mirror if you read the entire posts).

One last thing; I’m a Norwegian and thus not a native English speaker, so if I have grammar and spelling mistakes, that’s the reason. Even if I’m at my most creative at midnight doesn’t mean that I’m awake.

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