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Fashion. I fucking hate that. It’s ludicrous and something that I honestly can’t understand people are willing to pay 100 times the cost just because it’s a brand name. Not to mention all the crazy shit the designers come up with it. I’ll get more into the last bit later.

I admit, I don’t know how to dress. I will wear colours that clash, clothes that makes me look worse than I feel and if I was to shop without aid I’d pick outfits that would make girls run away screaming or fall on their knees and cry, asking God what I had done to deserve such a punishment. When it comes to picking out jeans I pick a pair, put them on and then squat. If they’re not painful then I don’t really give a fuck about what everyone else looks at. the whole “does it fit my body type and does it make my ass looks bigger?” gets one massive FUCK YOU from me. Then I go and grab a couple of t shirts that looks fairly nice. What I have as criteria are the following; 1) Are they pink or have any pink parts in them? If so then it’s a no. 2) Do they actually fit? 3) what’s the price? I really can’t be arsed to spend large amounts of t shirts that I don’t give a shit about. They’ll end up as working shirts or something along those lines in the end so no point spending too much money on them. I’ll pay for a nice shirt that goes with a suit, but a regular t shirt for every day use, not gonna happen. Then I’ll take a few sweaters that I feel suit me.

But that said, most of my t-shirts comes from supporter shops, mostly Arsenal stuff. I have around 10 different Arsenal shirt that I wear, and no girl will ever come near those unless the purpose is to wear them or wash them. They’re not going into the bin. I like them and I wear them. Same with my massive large disney jumper. So yeah, I have no sense in how to dress properly and fashionable, nor do I want to. I have better things to spend my time on, like doodling circles on notebooks and read about fish on wikipedia.

So what’s my problem with fashion? Well, one thing is the cost. How can it be that a pair of Ralph Lauren jeans costs 10 times more than a pair of jeans from another brand that’s not so posh? Quality is the same, and style isn’t that much different. Maybe it is for you twats who knows this shit, but if you have eye for those details you’ll do society a better service at checking spy photos for your military intelligence programs.  Not to mention the t-shirts and jumpers. Who the fuck came up with the idea that it’s a good thing for guys to wear pink? In hospitals they seperate girls from boys by giving the girls pink clothes and the boys blue. Pink is for girls. There’s a reason barbie dolls comes in pink packages and the guns comes in orange packages. The year I graduated we had a bunch of different parties. One was called “Traffic light” where you dressed in the colours of a traffic light depending on if you were single or not. Red was taken, yellow meant you could be persuaded, if you wore green you were open for most, and lastly, those that walked around in pink would pretty much fuck anything with a pulse. So congrats all guys who wear pink; we know that single guys will fuck anything with a pulse, but no need to advertise it or dress like a girl while you’re at it.

So what about the desginer shit that comes out on the catwalks every season, promoted my models that never shower because they’ll fall down the drain of the shower? I’ve seen a video of Russian Neo-Nazis that decapitated a hostage. That made more sense to me than what “walks” on the catwalk in Milan or Paris. I’m wondering if the designers gathers at a massive rave party and takes all kinds of different drug coctails and then head straight to a designerroom where they draw out what people should were. It’s never bold or challenging, it’s always something that a drunk hobo wouldn’t even wear. A couple fucking nude in the middle of the high street would be less attentionwhores than those who would even think about wearing that shit. And if you’re gonna categorise the people designing this shit as geniuses then I’d put them in the same category as dictators and war criminals; evil and insane. I’m pretty sure that the Geneva convention says that you can’t humiliate and ridicule prisoners, so I’m wondering why it’s ok to strap civilians in peace time into something that makes them look like birds who have swallowed different things in peace time.

Fashion sucks, and if you’re one of those that follow the shit that goes on in Milan and Paris I have a word of advice; turn back now, before it’s too late. Start studying and get interested in stuff that makes more sense, like finding out the optimal growing temperature, humidity and amount of rain and sunlight for dandylions.

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I’m an overprotective fucker. Just ask my girlfriend and she’ll tell you(I’m not gonna give out her info, but feel free to ask any amazingly good looking girl you see “Is your boyfriend the dude who writes the blog Midnighttalk?”). I very often act like some sort of body guard over the people I care about, and if you hurt them and I get the chance I will in 30 seconds have come up with a dozen different ways to make you suffer until you pass out from pain. And yes, I have seen a shrink. He considered me healthy.

If I got a daughter I would go into the stereotypical overprotective dad. I would do my best to make the insecure boyfriend she brings home to introduce to her family piss his pants out of pure fear. If it would be done with pure words or with a show and tell or just be silent I don’t know. I guess I would make an assesment right there and then. I most definetely would try to get my hands on ancient torture devices, preferably something that would bring immense pain to his cock. “You see this? This was used to slowly crush a man’s testicles while they wanted him to confess.” If my girlfriend’s dad showed me different torture devices when I was 16 I would probably be a bit scared. At least if he had this evil smile and a bit of a worrying chuckling while he was at it. er

I would constantly worry that my daughter was out with STD infested guys that would do their best to get her drunk and somehow trick her into bed. Odds are I would bribe one of her friends to videotape the entire thing and put up a live feed so that I could intervene when I saw it necessary, which would probably be every 10 minutes. Car would be parked ready to drive out like an ambulance to a crashsite where a busload of Japanese retired people hit a mountainside, of course with different weapons in the back, legal and illegal.

Another good reason is because I would be a very poor man, even if I earned millions every month. Reason; she would know me and know how to wrap me around her middle finger. I have more problems saying no to a girl than to a dude. A girl gotta ask for something big for me to say no. “Can I fuck you violently in the ass with this big strap on while I gag you with a washcloth that you just came in?” “Just use enough lube and warm me up before you push it in. And I hope I can spit out the washcloth if I struggle to breathe and might pass out.” (That would be me saying yes to my girlfriend, not some random fat slag that has “Team Jakob” tattooed on her ugly ass).

And this is pretty much just the top of the ice berg. Odds are I’d get a daughter that would rebel against the intellectual upbringing I’d give her and she’d become shallow and think a macintosh is something useful(i.e. a complete and utter idiot).

Which is why I’d want a son. He’d be bossed around to do all the crappy stuff I don’t want to do, like taking out the trash and mow the lawn and all that. And when he interrupts me when I’m reading the sportspages and goes “Dad, can I have a new pair of jeans? The ones I have are almost falling off.” “Come back when they’re falling off. Now go mow the lawn. The grass has grown 5 milimeters since you cut it last.” That and I’d have someone to beat in gaming. That and I probably wouldn’t worry as much when he goes out. If he gets hurt then that’s another lesson learnt and if he does it again then he’s obviously just stupid.

So please, God. Give me a couple of sons to bully. I’ll be a good dad(at least my definition of a good dad).

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Yes, twatlight/cuntlight/fucklight/someone-please-shoot-stephanie-meyerlight is back. You can take your pick on what you wanna call it, but all of the above are true and we know it.

For weeks I have been dreading going to my university. It’s not because I’m being bullied or that there’s asbestos or other poisionous materials in the buildings, but it’s because at the bus terminal there are huge posters of edtwat cuntum and bella. The stuff seriously scares me, and I have been on a small edge of a steep cliff that had a 20 meter drop down on some really nasty looking stones while clinging on to a some grass that probably would have snapped if I’d slipped. In short, I have been on the edge of death and it was still not as scary as having to look at the posters at the bus terminal.

I have a question for you; what do you do if you have Bella, or Bucket because she has the personality and carisma of a bucket full of donkey shit mixed with chemical waste, and edtwat cuntum in the same room and you have a gun with only one bullet? Simple; you shoot the cunt(that’s edtwat cuntum, easy to confuse since they’re both cunts), rip off his arm and beat Bucket to death with it. Don’t try to beat her soul out, because if you’ve seen 10 minutes of the movies it’s obvious she has no soul.

I’m still wondering on whether I should actually suffer through these last two money milkers of a movie, or if I should just wait until I can acuire it in a way that won’t cost me the ticket to the movie(I’m not mentioning anything illegal. I could go rent it, so plausible deniability). However I do believe that going to watch it and be a complete and utter arsehole during the movie, like booing whenever bucket shows her very punchable face(normally I wouldn’t hit a woman, but since she acts like a bucket of donkey shit mixed with chemical waste I think I could get off with it being described as littering) or constantly repeat what edtwat says in the most gay voice that is possible to imagine, would be worth the money. Maybe I should pick up my phone and make a call in the middle of the movie. There are some great ideas coming to me right now.

However, I still think that despite the entertainment value of sitting in a cinema and enjoying ruining the experience for all the twatlight hardcore fans, these movies should be outlawed all over the world. Not because of censorship, I’m against that, but because it’s fraud. They say it’s a movie, but there’s not a single SENSIBLE(which rules out all the twatlight fans) person in the world who would call that shit entertainment. I feel for all the dudes that have been dragged to the movies by their girlfriends. If they are to ever make up for that it’s sex three times a day, every day for one year for every film.

The people behind the “movies” and everyone working with it(yes, Stephanie Meyer, that includes you you destructive evil cunt) should be jailed, put on water and bread for 2 months(apparantly it fucks up your digestive system). Then they should be tortured in every possible and impossible way and only be let off when the finally renounce their false god and apologise for producing such crap. Then they should be taken to a public place and then be beheaded, preferrably with a dull fruit knife. Afterwards their heads should be put on stakes and placed on different places around the world and their bodies left to rot in what could be a public toilet.

Because twatlight haven’t just ruined many people’s lives and probably mental health, but it has also ruined the entire vampire genre. If you asked my parent’s generation, they’d tell you that vampires are Bram Stoker’s Dracula and so forth. Proper bad ass vampires who sneaks in and sucks the blood out of women, just to be pure assholes. Ask my generation(the one in their mid 20’s and 30’s) and we’ll tell you about the badass Blade and all the vampires there, who again drinks blood from humans and treats them like nothing more than a source of food and amusement.

Now ask the teens of today what a vampire movie is, and they’ll tell you twatlight. Some of them might be sensible and give you the Underworld series, but odds are that you get twatlight. So we go from creepy as hell to asswhopping creepy cunts to sparkling in the sun. If you don’t believe me then google Bram Stoker’s Dracula, then Blade and then twatlight. You’ll see it’s like that evolution map where man goes from monkey to man to the computer geek, only this will be with the man standing upright first, next is him holding a sword and the last will be him sparkly driving a Prius to his sports gymnastic training. Somewhere something went horribly wrong, and someone should pay!

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Unless you live in a god forsaken area you probably have neighbours. Maybe you have one, or maybe you have several. Either way, you’re bound to have one arsehole living near you that annoys the living shit out of you. It can either be because of their kids are screaming all day, they might be rude, or maybe they come knocking at your door at 1 in the morning and ask to borrow some sugar when they know that unlike that jobless hobo, you have to get up in the morning.

Maybe they do all these annoying things because they are complete and utter idiots. It could just be that they don’t have the regular XX or XY chromosone that most people have. It could be that they have special chromosones; the CUNT chromosone, that makes them complete and utter cunts. These fuckers are here because society has yet to find a way to weed out these people and it’s socially unacceptable to put them in special detention camps where they live their annoying shitty lives(another thing Hitler ruined for all of us, but good job on making Fanta and Volkswagen). And before you pull out the racism card and call me a racist, let me tell you that there are cunts of all ethnic background, religion, political views and sexual orientation(apart from gingers, because they have no souls and thus can’t be cunts). But since there are no proof of this genetic error, all we can do for now is speculate.

A second possibility is that yes, there is a God and he has a very evil sense of humour. Maybe he got piss drunk one day and decided to fuck things up a bit and snapped his fingers, and suddenly a certain amount of people on the planet ends up as… cunts. This way the odds of you living next door to one suddenly becomes increadibly high. Or maybe it’s just so simple that the Devil exists, he was pissed that God created something so awesome as me and then decided to annoy all the people on the planet by creating cunts.

If you drop these two theories then you’ve just gotta assume that cunty neighbours have existed in society for quite sometime. Given that it’s not a genetical error then I’m assuming that there’s only one option left; how the cunts are raised as children. If their parents are increadibly cunty, then chances are that their kids will adopt this cunty attitude and become complete and utter cunts themselves, especially the later generations. Since my generation has access to internet, it gives them a chance to come in contact with cuntery and other cunts online, and thus share experiences and give tips and hints. So parents, unless you’re a cunt, check what your kid’s doing online. He might just be learning how to be a cunt.

I say that since the amount of cunts in our society is rising, we need to start doing some research on it. Maybe there is a cure for cuntery. If so, the governments and WHO and UN need to act! Before it’s too late and we become a society where the cunts are the majority. Then we are well and truly fucked.

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I like Wednesdays. They are like the no man’s land of the week. You’re not trying to forget all the drunken shit you did in the weekend, like you do on Monday and Tuesday, and neither do you prepare for the following weekend’s drunken shit, like you do Thursday and Friday. Wednesday is the neutral day of the week. So there are a couple of things I like doing on a Wednesday.

1 – Oversleep. Nothing is more fun than waking up, looking at the clock and then realise you’ve got 10 minutes before you need to get out of the house and start heading to the bus stop. And since you’re in a pretty rotten shape you know that taking a shower and then run is out of the question. As you half awake stumble through the room and find your clothes on your way to the bathroom and get dressed while doing your morning business, you suddenly find yourself with socks on your hands and what you thought was your dark sunglasses turned out to be your trousers over your head. Wallet and keys have been moved around by the evil house gnomes that move shit around while you’re sleeping and panick strikes as you hurry out the door.

2 – The bus. As you walk to the bus stop you constantly check the time in fear of that the busdriver has gotten an epiphany and found out that the timetable is something he should try to follow, it’s not just some random timestamps that they cooked up at 2 AM during the Christmas party(although when I look at some of the timetables here they might as well be). Ignoring the rain and the shoelaces you didn’t have time to tie before you headed out the front door(and probably forgot to lock, but too late to do something about that now) you finally reach the bus stop. To your relief you see plenty of miserable people standing there waiting for the same bus as you, although you almost start laughing before realising that you are one of those miserable people as well. On the bus you sit down on an available seat with plenty of leg space and relax. Feeling optimistic you think that it can only go upwards from here. That’s when the almighty God puts on an evil smirk and goes “Oh yeah? Fucking watch this, you wanker”. As you sit in your own thoughts and admire the amount of space you have you see the fattest woman in the area have decided to take the bus at the same time as you. Not only can you imagine the axels of the bus starting to bend as she steps on, but of course she decides to sit down next to you, completely altering any notion you had of both time and space, especially space. As a final cruel joke from God you feel a strange odor coming from Shamu’s stand in. You’re not sure if it can be defined as perfume, but the word “fume” fits perfectly with the smell that’s creeping up in your nostrils and starting to torture your nerves. I doubt any of us mind that a person has put on perfume or cologne to mask their own BO, but when a person who’s Indian name would be “Sitting Whale” is more or less drenched in something smelly that reeks so bad that you have to spend what feels like the 15 longest minutes of your life breathing through your jacket, you wish you had no such thing as a sense of smell.

This is just two of the many things that makes me looooooove Wednesdays. I hope I never see a fucking Wednesday again. Or a Monday.

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I must admit, before two days ago I had no idea who this woman was. It was just another name that mattered to me as much as Lindsey Lohan, although I know that Lindsey Lohan is a cocaine cunt. In case you didn’t know, Meyer is the terrorist behind a terrorist attack probably worse than 9/11 (expecting hatemail now). I speak of course about the Twilight saga, or Twatlight saga if you like. This monstrosity that probably breaks a shitload of laws all around the world and would normally get you killed, is published and by many people, praised. Although it’s probably protected by free speech, I think an exception should be made with Twilight. There’s an old saying “Where they burn books, they will eventually burn people”, and if this means burning the Twilight books and all the other things related to it and then burn Meyer along with the people behind the movie then I’m all for it. Hell, I’ll even pay for the wood.

I have now seen the three Twatlight movies and I must say I’m disgusted. It’s shit. Totally shit. The first thought that struck me when hearing eddie speak to bella, or balls, was that he says everything not only she wants to hear, but any 14yo girl wants to hear. How more populistic can you get? It’s like hearing a fucking politician three days before an election. Who knew that you could get so many cliche riddled lines spilled out from one person at the same time? What the fuck did the Meyer do? Did she find a program to write the book for her and added a ton of cliches, just to make the crap sell? A girl willing to give up her “soul”(doubt she ever had one, because a more soulless character is hard to find, if you don’t count the cullens) so she can be with her “one true love” forever and ever? The only way it could have been a more sickening cliche is if it had been the other way around.

What stunned me was the total lack of knowledge about vampires that this book shows. Everybody knows that vampires can’t handle the UV rays from the sun. This means that they are unable to survive in daylight. There are UV rays even if it’s cloudy, you stupid cunt. If it’s the white light from the sun that “exposes” them then the fuckers shouldn’t be able to sit near a lightbulb without sparkling like a fucking chandeleir. And UV light doesn’t make vampires sparkle like the fucking tooth fairy, it fucking kills them. As in death. The only vampire that can walk around in daylight without turning into a badly burn frozen pizza is Dracula, and even he has reduced powers then. Do some fucking research.

I found it amusing that whenever the vampires were injured or lost a limb it was like their whole body was made out of fucking porcelein or something similar. Pull the arms off and it’s like fucking plaster. How “family friendly” is it possible to get? It’s obvious that these books and movies were made for 15yo girls because the lack of knowledge, cliches and blood is just increadible.

Vampires can’t take garlic or silver, and if you’re gonna kill one, the most secure way is to pierce their heart with a stake. Silver for great sucess. That’s all. You don’t have to tear off the limbs with your superhuman strength and then burn it. Watch a  GOOD movie that includes vampires and you’ll know.

Here’s a little fun fact about the vampires “enemies”, the wolves. The wolves are awesome, simply because if it was up to them Edtwat Cunt and his family would be dead. The fun fact is; the first book was published in 2005, 2 years after the launch of the movie Underworld, which is part of a triology that goes on about the battle between vampires and… wait for it… werewolves! I wonder where Meyer got the idea of having wolves hate the vampires. Strange coincidence, huh? And to make it more “mysterious” the wolves are Native Americans who has had these shapeshifting genes for generations.

Twatlight is every girls dream: Two dudes on steroids fighting over the same insecure girl that every girl can relate to. There is so much wrong with these movies and books on so many levels that I’d have to write a book just to cover it all. I bet that when the publisher read through it he/she didn’t think “This is good”, but “I can make a shitload of money on this.” because that’s what it is; it’s something that sells to the stupid masses, not something that’s actually good or even decent. If I was the director I’d ask Wesley Snipes to do a comeback in the last movie and kill off every single one of them, Blade style. Then the movie might be somewhat survivable.

And to top it off, thanks to Meyer and her fellow criminals, countless boyfriends have been dragged to the movies by their girlfriends and forced to sit through the pain and torture that this shit presents. I hope that if vampires really do exist, they find Meyer and crucify her, Hannibal Lecter style.

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No, I’m not talking about cocain or any other reference to drug. You fucking junkie. Just because it seems like I’m constantly high on something, doesn’t mean that I actually am. Well, I’m usually high on caffeine and sugar, but that’s a legal substance, even though I abuse it as well as I can.

I’m talking about Coca Cola, the stuff that I consider black gold. Screw oil. The world would survive without it. I wouldn’t survive without coke. Coke should be given on perscription simply because it brings new life to your body. I can feel like I’ve just had a train run over me and then had the neighbour’s cat pee on my leg after I slipped in dog shit, and then have a glass or can of coke and then be a new person. It’s better than redbull. Redbull sucks donkey balls compared to coke. If Jesus had any sense, he would have ignored the request of turning water into wine and make it into coke instead. People would have gone apeshit and he probably wouldn’t have been nailed up to a cross. “Guys, think about it. This is the dude that gave us coke. We might be stupid, but we’re not that retarded.”

So you might be wondering why I want it on perscription. Well, the thing is that here in Norway after you’ve spent 1800 NOK(or something like that. That’s the last number I’ve heard at least) on medicine perscribed by you for your doctor due to long lasting or chronic disease, the government will pay for the rest. So if I( I don’t give two fucks about the rest of the people) could get it on perscription, I could have the government pay for my coke.

Now you might wonder why I want this delicious and life bringing liquid on perscription, when the propaganda calls it unhealthy and that it will ruin your teeth and toes and whatnot. Now these are of course all lies put out by the vegetable and smoothie industry, trying to make sure that you buy their so called “healthy” crap instead of the nourishing coke that will bring your body to life.

We’ve all been there. The morning after. You feel like shit. You wanna throw up and your head is hammering like the fast beat of a bad porn movie. You look around and you see half naked strippers on the bed and on the floor, drooling and condoms on their face. You stagger into the bathroom and everything from last night comes out and you feel  a micro orgasm as you empty your bladder, and a small sense of victory that you didn’t spill anything on the floor. You look into the mirror and instead of seeing yourself you see Quasimodo after a 24 hour shift of bellringing in the Notre Dame.

Then you stagger over into the kitchen, feeling like you’ve run a marathon that’s only an upwards hill before you finally reach the fridge. With the effort of a Strongman competitor you open the fridge door, and there inside the fridge you see the holy grail of hangover cures. An ice cold can of coke. With the final effort of a dying man you grab the can, open it and try to ignore the loud sound that almost ruin your eardrums, and even already as you can smell it you feel a spark of life growing in you. Then you raise the can to your lips, take a sip, and instantly you feel your body react like Popeye after getting a mouthful of spinach. You realise that this heavinly drink was in fact given to man from God himself to cure hangover. Every drop of coke that enters your body brings new life, and you realise that Jesus didn’t ressurect Lasarus; he only gave a really hungover Lasarus a cold coke.

That’s why coke should be on perscription.

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