Not That Gloomy Actually

So very, very old

2009-01-25T00:17:00.002Z

Hah, I came across a relic of the past and it has done nothing but enforce my idea of having gotten really freaking old somewhere in the last year or so.
I was so very young and so overly dramatic, and this was in 2005. I was a good and healthy 24 years of age (well, almost 24 anyway), and really have no excuse for this kind of crap.
So, without further ado I present some hard evidence of my naivety and masterly dramatics (seriously, how silly can you be?):

There is no sound, my love, in this deep, dark night but for your quiet breathing and the flutter of tiny wings as the phoenix of hope rises from its ashes
once more.
For in the stillness of this near-spring night I find my feelings growing stronger, asserting themselves.
Before this day I did not know they were ther, could not hear their soft whispers within my heart. But their voices grew stronger as the night fell and suddenly I am very aware of their being.
Like the coming of spring they snuck up on me. Tiny, fragile green buds on the barren branches of my love. So small, so delicate and yet so amazingly strong, withstanding the strain of the nightfrosts and growing into those graceful dreams of trees.
I wonder how I did not notice them sooner. Had I paused, on my hectic run to chaos, would I perchance have sensed them?
An intangible smell of spring, of new hopes and dreams lingers in the air.
Would I have seen the buds if I'd stopped and looked at my leafless trees? Or would I have thought them mere figments of my imagination, of my desire to feel again? I shall never know that, but of one thing I'm certain. These feelings are real.
For I have tried to rid myself of them, to tell myself they're only dreams of feelings and not to be believed in. But still they persist. They keep whispering deep within me and by now I can hear what they're saying.
They talk of hope and love and the chance of us. Romance and clouds and soft, white feathers and flowers and sunshine and you. Kisses in the midnight sun, dancing well into the morning hours, soft embraces, tender words blowing across naked bodies and you. Laughter and friendship and the sharing of
secrets, comforting hugs and passionate love and you.
The phoenix of hope speaks to me in this deep, dark night.
He whispers your name, my love, your name.

Old!

2009-01-24T23:57:00.002Z

Yeah, I think we've officially moved into the "old" category, my husband and I (can you tell just how funny I still find the fact that I have a husband?).
It's Saturday night, just around midnight, and we've spent the evening watching videos, surfing the net and drinking beer. By now we've actually started talking about hitting the sack really soon. Sad, innit?
It makes me wonder about what happened to the apparently limitless (at the time) party energy that filled me a couple of years ago.
Back then the norm was to go out and party like crazy on Friday, wake up hungover - possibly even after afterparties that lasted till eight in the morning - and then do the same thing again on Saturday.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm most decidedly not saying that I miss that lifestyle. I just wonder how the fuck I managed to keep that pace, weekend after weekend after weekend. Hell, we also threw in quite a few evenings at the bar in the middle of the week as well, for good measure. It was a bit (and sometimes a lot) insane. It was also a lot of fun at the time, but I'm grateful that those days are behind me. I really couldn't do this any more.
So, here's to quiet evenings in front of the telly. I'm growing old, and I'm not entirely sure I dislike it.

Driving

2009-01-20T23:36:00.002Z

Through the endless whiteness, punctuated only by the occasional
clutch of yellow straws that poke through the snow and the coal black cliff faces that are too steep for the snow to catch hold on.
Even the houses we pass are white and their roofs covered
by snow that blankets all the colours that otherwise would relieve the eye.
Our journey takes on a certain dreamlike quality at times. Where
the ground and the sky and road are all the same pure white colour you get an eerie sensation of not quite knowing which way is up.
It feels like tumbling into eternity and not moving at all at the same time.

Bragging (but just a little)

2008-12-30T15:13:00.004Z

I've just been playing this game, and I desperately want to brag a little bit about my amazing prowess at it:

This Traveler IQ was calculated on Tuesday, December 30, 2008 at 03:11PM GMT by comparing this person's geographical knowledge against the Web's Original Travel journal's 3,493,018 travelers who've taken the challenge.

Yes, I know, I have way too much time on my hands. But at least I can pretend that I'm not just wasting my time on the internet. I'm also learning stuff.
Also, I have no idea why it looks so weird, and I'm far too lazy to figure it out just now. I'm still in a Christmas coma from eating and sleeping too much.
But when I recover a bit more things will get done around here.
I plan to change the look of this entire site, if I can find something that suits my style (yeah, like that will happen) and try to make a point of writing shit down in stead of just talking constantly.

Just because

2008-12-20T20:03:00.001Z

I really freaking love this sketch, and I'm in a sharing mood.

"Prop 8 - The Musical" starring Jack Black, John C. Reilly, and many more... by Jack Black

Maybe

2008-12-04T22:14:00.002Z

Maybe I should give this another go.
If nothing else, because it gives me a reason to fondle my lovely new little computer, the new object of love and lust (only metaphorical, though) in my life. The most feminine laptop I've ever dreamed of having. It makes me feel all streamlined and space age to pet my pretty little baby. So yeah, in this aspect I'm practically a man. I can get so completely overwhelmed with gadget lust that it blinds me.
But apart from that, I feel like it's high time to take another shot at this site. After all, I no longer speak English daily so I need another outlet to keep it fresh in my head. And I like to imagine that my friends of foreign stock may read my ramblings and really, what more justification does a girl need.
So let's try this anew. Expect a lot of rambling that may not make sense at times, sporadic updating and general me-ness all around.
If you girls ( pretty much only Annie, Nina, Eavan (you know I only ever tried this for you guys anyway)) are still out there and seeing this, know that I miss you and I strongly believe that you should drag your lovely asses back to this freezing rock in the middle of fuck-all and come visit.

The love of a band

2007-05-05T22:03:00.000Z

I know that it's terribly unfashionable by now and that it'll make Annie think I'm a complete wanker but I have a deep and profound love for the band U2.

I think I was probably about 8 or 9 years old when my older sister introduced me to their music.
Music was never a big part of life in our home so mostly I got exposed to it through her.
Together we went through a slightly embarassing period of Duran Duran devotion (I could name all the guys in the band AND most of their girlfriends), a brief fling with some bands I can't remember and then a rather fervent Culture Club phase.
And then we found U2. It was a life altering moment. Right from the beginning it was obvious that this was something different from the other ones. This was a whole new thing. And this came at a time where she had begun teaching me english so I could understand a bit of their lyrics and they resonated with something in me.
We both fell head over heels in love with these guys.

This love affair with the Irish band still lasts, almost 20 years later.

I may not always agree entirely with what they're doing, what paths they tread in their music, but I'm always aware of the fact that they're true to themselves and what they feel is right.
And of course I radically disagree with their religious beliefs but they still manage not to piss me off with their faith and their worship. Probably since it's so obviously sincere and heartfelt. You can't really take issue with that. It's a bit like one of my oldest friends who in her christmas cards sends me wishes for god to bless me. Can't possibly take issue.

I've followed the career of U2 for many a year now. I have all their albums (except for Wide Awake In America, and I don't really count that as a full album anyway). I have wet dreams about going to one of their concerts.
And most of all, I have endless respect for these guys. How they've stayed true to themselves and each other for all these years. How they've managed to protect their personal lives and families and have not fallen prey to the "classic" rockstar living.

And most of all, I kinda adore and worship Bono.
I know that a lot of people get annoyed with him for his political involvement and his do-gooder-behaviour, but that's part of what I think is most amazing about him.
Here's a guy, a rockstar, who's incredibly famous and he actually uses his influence for good.
I mean, most people of his level of fame are busy just being that rich and famous and don't really think about much else besides themselves.
But he actively tries to use his image, his fame to do good for the world. He co-founded and works for DATA, an organization that fights for giving up the debt of third world countries and embracing free trade with them so they can stand on their own. And DATA also fights the AIDS problem.
His fame has drawn a lot of attention to the problems that f.x. Africa faces and he's worked hard at getting the leaders of the western world to do their part in the battle. I firmly believe that if he hadn't fought for the cause it would be lightyears behind where it's now.

And on a less moral ground I also think that he's a sexy, sexy man. But that's the smallest part of my adoration of the man.

Names & nicknames

2007-04-24T14:45:00.000Z

I've been discussing that thing with my sister quite a bit lately.
She and of course her husband) give their kids names that are impossible to bastardize into nicknames. Fríða, Dvalinn, Pálmar and the latest one is Auðun (intentionally with only 1 n).
She's bypassed a few names that she could and possibly would have named the kids if not for tha fact that they get shortened or some other way forced into some other shape of name. She hates that and so do I.
And this has led me to wonder, why the fuck are people so hellbent on giving each other nicknames? I don't get it. And boy, do I ever not like it!
Even though my name can't really be shortened into a nickname, there have been some attempts through the years to give me a nickname of some sort. I've absolutely loathed each and every one of them. I like my name, I think it's just great, and suits me to a tee. So why, oh why do people feel the need to fuck with it or to call me something else?
I mean, fair play to you if you want people to call you something else than your given name. I'll call you whatever you want (within reasonable limits). But I can't stand the habit people have of forcing this on others.

It's a boy + Angelina and Josephine

2007-04-18T20:04:00.000Z

Yup, a bouncing baby boy was born to my sister and her husband on Sunday the 15th of April. They're coming home tomorrow and are, to say the very least, eagerly awaited by the older kids.
And then there's a christening on Friday. Sis likes to just get these things over and done with. I like that about her.

And now for todays random thought.
Is it just me or is there rather a lot of similarity between Angelina Jolie and the late Josephine Baker?
I mean, there's the estrangement from the father, the humanitarian/revolutionary work, the multiple adoptions, the several marriages, the glamour, the beauty, the shock factor and infamy et cet. et cet.
I think they're very much alike in many ways. And were I thusly inclined (i.e. if I believed in stuff like that) I'd find it easy to speculate about Jolie being a reincarnation of Baker. In fact, it fits kinda beautifully. Baker died in April 1975 and Jolie was born in June the same year.
But I don't really believe in stuff like that. I just think it's a neat coincidence.

Countrylife

2007-04-10T20:03:00.000Z

Is lived at a completely different pace than city life. I'm sure for most of you this is hardly news, but somehow I'd almost forgotten just how different it is here.
Out here you don't really set any stock by the ticking of a clock. Things are done in their own time and when they must be done.
So far life here is very calm and quiet. We're still awaiting the birth of the little one, some of us more impatiently than others. Today my sister is a week past her due date and she desperately wants the baby out. If only to rid herself of the incessant "so, still no news?" phonecalls. But of course she, and everyone else, is also quite excited about meeting this new person that we're all waiting for.
What with the lack of tiny newborn baby person my duties here are still pretty few and far between. But I'm settling into the family and the kids are slowly getting useed to having me around. I think, and sincerely hope, that the smallest one is taking a shine to me. He's at least been very sweet and happy to have me here today. And he endures my cuddles, for which I'm extremely grateful. It's good to have someone to vent the affection on.

For even though life here is nice and I quite like it, it's colored by the fact that I don't have my fiancé with me and I miss him terribly. It sucks going to bed alone at night. Waking up alone isn't much better. And going through day after day without meeting him is not something I approve of.
But it won't be for too long. I'm only here till the end of May and after 2 weeks I'm coming to Reykjavík for a short visit. And then around the middle of May he'll come here for a few days, so it's not as if we won't see anything of each other for all this time.

Photos

2007-04-03T19:28:00.000Z

I've been in a bit of a melancholy mood these last few days. Possibly because it's really getting entirely too short a time until I'm leaving my beloved for a whopping two months (I know, I'm pathetic).
But I decided to try and kick myself out of my funk today and haul my ass out and take some pretty pictures.
And, to a certain extent I succeeded. I went to one of my absolute and all time favorite places in Reykjavík and took quite a few pictures, strolling around, climbing up on things (not very much/high though, since that would be completely inappropriate) and generally being a pillock.
But as you'll come to realize if you look at the photos, this favorite spot of mine is the old graveyard nearby the University.
So they're more than a little tainted with melancholy. But I still think they turned out ok. See for yourselves.

Contentment

2007-03-18T21:04:00.000Z

So, here we are. Just returned from a wonderful trip to Sweden where we were visiting Ragnar's brother and his girlfriend.
We've officially grown all mature and shit now. Our evenings were not spent doing the whole crazy party thing, but rather just chatting over beer and cider at Teddi's and Frikka's home. And it was fan-fucking-tastic.
And soon I shall start flooding this blog with sappy entries about things like love and Ragnar and marriage and weddings and all that stuff. But now, I must sleep. 4 nights on a rather uncomfortable IKEA foldout bed leave a girl wanting for some real cozy sleep in her betrothed's arms.

Big news!

2007-03-05T17:15:00.000Z

So, I've been suffering from lack of internet and time as well.
But now I'm back, and boy do I have the news for you.
So, I quit my job and am now unemployed and just lounging about the house, doing as little as possible. But that's not the big news.
And Sam and Ragnar moved in to my apartment, but that's not the big news either.
No, the big news is that Ragnar popped the question and we are now a blissful engaged couple.
Now, that's big, big news, isn't it. I think so at least. And I'm happier than ever.

Happy new year!

2007-01-08T15:18:00.000Z

So. It's been a while, huh?
My internet absence has mainly been caused by two things:
a) my utter infatuation with Ragnar (I mean, why would you need the internet when you can be having sex?) and
b) the slow and agonizing meltdown of my computer. However, that evil piece of machinery has now been sentenced to hanging and today my brother found me a new computer (with considerable discount, I might add) so hopefully I'll soon be up and running again. Well, except for the fact that the infatuation and sex is still a valid factor.
Well, we'll see how it goes.
And anyways, happy new year. I hope you had a great time at new years and that 2007 got off to a good start for you as it did for me.

Welcome to Hicksville

2006-12-25T14:10:00.000Z

pp. 13 this Christmas. Well, 13 plus 2 snooty siamese cats, one impossibly cheerful and cuddly little dog and about 900-1000 sheep.
This is my home. And amazingly enough I like it. Aside from the crummy internet connection. It took me about ten minutes to get online. And the connection is so poor that sites displaying pictures, simply don't.
But here I am in the midst of the insanity that is my family. I think they believe me to have been gone for to long now, cause every now and then I just burst out laughing, cradle my head in my hands and moan in pain over them. It takes a little getting used to, being back here.

My father picked me up at the airport, mocked me mercilessly for being hung over and then drove home at the speed of light (around 130-140 km an hour), only slowing SLIGHTLY when he found the need to pick up some little metal bit intended for a light fixture and start reading the very small inscriptions on it. While driving! Slowing to about 60 km an hour, and that was mostly so he could find his reading glasses and fumble them onto his nose. The reading glasses that he does NOT use for driving cause he can't see squat long distance with them. It's a wonder that we got home in one piece.
And of course there was the annual geography quiz on the way, with him asking me endless questions about the name of this mountain and that river, this thingy and that stuff. Every single question that I was forced to answer with something like "shit, I really know this, honestly, I do" and "crap, it seems to have slipped my mind at the moment" got me closer to being kicked out of the car. He probably would have slowed down a bit for me first though, I think. But father does not like the fact that his youngest child is physically incapable of remembering this stuff. Until it comes to our own land, that is. But that's a story for a different day.
And the rest of the family is just as weird. Ok, maybe not quite as strange, but it's a close shave with some of them. And the littlest ones are no better than the rest.
My one year old nephew looks like a darling little angel, with his huge blue eyes and his oh-so-soft whiteblond hair. A terrifically beautiful child. That however gets partly forgotten when he starts howling like a banshee, which he does quite a lot, most often because someone tried to take his food away from him. Or because he dropped it. He just does not take kindly to having had food in his hands and then suddenly not having it there anymore. So he screams. And small as he may be, the kid's got quite a set of lungs on him and can really make himself heard. And yet he's so cute when he smiles and babbles that I just want to gobble him up.
The other kids are awesome as well, but there's something special about them when they're so small. That being said, I thought I'd melt last night when the 6 year old crawled up into my lap and cuddled up cause he was so tired. Eventually he asked me to take him upstairs to bed and he was so adorable with his arms around my neck and his sleepy little head resting on my shoulder as I carried him upstairs and lay down on the bed with him, stroking his head so he could fall asleep, as overexcited and exhausted as he was after all the christmas stuff. Darling little brat.
So, yeah, life is pretty gosh-darn good at the moment. The only thing missing is Ragnar. But it isn't that long till I'll get back to town and he'll hopefully be in the airport to pick me up so I can pull a holiday-movie-scene when I enter the terminal and run across the crowded room and fling myself into his arms. Or just because I really look forward to seeing him again and it would be nice to do so as soon as I get back (hint, hint, since I'm pretty sure you'll be reading this, darling:)).
So anyways, a very merry christmas to you all. I'll be seeing you shortly.

Drinking in the day

2006-12-15T14:45:00.000Z

Sweet, sweet christmasy buffet. Every december my work goes for one of these at lunchtime and then the office is closed for the remainder of the day.
So we went today and I may or may not be slightly drunk right now. At half past two in the afternoon. Shocking, innit?
We had the loverly Beaujolais Nouveau 2006 with lunch, rather liberally applied, and right now I believe that it may be the solution to all the world's problems. Mine seem decidedely less significant at least.
And not only was there great food and wonderful wine, there was also a christmas bonus that'll easily pay for a nice pair of boots or two. And I'm going to meet two of my favourite girls, Ringa and Sigrún, and go be silly with them today, since they both had exams today and are on a short studybreak. Yay that.

Pleather and lust

2006-12-14T15:56:00.000Z

I smell of him. His scent lingers on my body and fills my mind with images of carnal pleasures.
I smell of him and it turns me on.
My short pleather skirt rustles softly against my legs and the sound turns all my thoughts in that same direction of intertwined bodies and lustful moans.
I smell of him. He has marked me as his own.

It and the lotion

2006-12-13T09:35:00.000Z

It's been pointed out to me that it's not exactly romantic, the habit of mine of referring to my boyfriend as "it".
I'll state in my defense though that I only do that when talking about him, never when talking to him. And also that it's far more in a comical vein and possibly a bit like the "my precious" thing from LOTR (i.e. where is it then, have you seen it?) than it is meant is the "It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again" creepiness from Silence of the Lambs. That's just Sam's interpretation of it.
But what does he know anyway, he that claims that this strip of Questionable content (best webcomic ever btw) reminds him of us. I'm not sure how I should take that. But since I love QC then I guess it's fine.

To sleep, perchance to dream

2006-12-07T14:36:00.000Z

I'm tired. I want to go home and wrap myself in the ever-so-faint aroma of sex and aftershave that lingers around me and in my covers that smell of us both and I want to rest my bone weary self.
My job is sucking all my energy out of me, even though I've only been back for three days. There are too many problems to solve, to many things to think about and a general sense of dread regarding my impending farewell to the place.
I'm tired and I don't want to be responsible for so many things any more. I want to curl up in my bed and not come out till spring. Hibernating seems like such a sweet option.

I'll have an ugh with a sideorder of blegh!

2006-12-06T11:56:00.000Z

After the requisite two week recovery time I'm back at work. And I hate it no less than when I left. If anything I'm having a harder time keeping it together now and not just shouting random abuse at the people who want me to solve problems I don't give a shit about.
My mantra for getting through the day has me focusing on the fact that it's a little less than three months to go. Well, that and the Christmas bonus. But even that is not enough to keep me cheerful or anything even remotely resembling it.
When the boyfriend came over for dinner last night he found me slamming pots and pans about, to the beat of Ministry's Bad Blood and some Rammstein and Prodigy. That's usually a good indicator of a foul mood on my behalf.
And as if work wasn't enough to piss me off, I also found out that my ex is coming back to Iceland soon. I'm not going to start the tirade and shitstorm I feel like pouring out on the internet, and rather let it suffice to say that I find this a far better city without his presence. In fact, everything and anything is better without him. But now I can expect to run into the one person I truly despise at my favorite places. So, that sucks. With a vengeance.
Thankfully the boyfriend (dammit, it feels stupid calling him that - from now on I'm going with Ragnar) is sweet as ever and willing to cuddle me when I' m being a grumpy bitch. And that counts for a lot in my books.

Beer me, goddamnit!

2006-12-01T20:05:00.000Z

Argh, that's it. For over a week I have vegetated on my couch/e-z-chair/bed and and soooo thoroughly sick and tired of it that I have no words to describe it. Seriously, I've got nothing. And you know that's saying quite something.
And that's just how sick'n'tired I am of sitting here like a grumpy dumpling, and not even remotely touching on the subject of how I miss my dear friend Beer (which is a lot, I can assure you).
So tonight I'm freaking well going to get all dolled up (but in a somewhat sensible way though) and be a good girlfriend and go see my boy play a gig at Kaffi Amsterdam, even though Amsterdam is a horrid dive and I normally wouldn't be caught dead in there. But in the name of good girlfriendship I will venture forth into that sleezehole.
I actually look forward to hearing Coburn play, since the last time I saw them was kinda less than perfect and I also had other places to be so I couldn't sit through their set.
It's also gonna be fun cause this is the first time that I've ever had a boyfriend in a band. Be still my wildly beating teenage heart. I should probably wear a really short skirt and glare fiercely at any and all groupies that may be there with an air of proud ownership about me. Oh, and lots of black eyeliner. And be totally prepared to get into a catfight. You never know, the boy is cute so I might have to fight for him. Although he does rather like me, so fighting will probably be uncalled for. But it would have been fun though, wouldn't it? Or at least good storyfodder.

Of Prejudice and no Pride whatsoever

2006-11-25T18:03:00.000Z

Ok, I'm cheating a little bit today as I'm simply translating a piece I wrote on my Icelandic blog. It's however not entirely unlikely that I'll do that from time to time, if only to practice my skills in writing the same text in two languages.

But anyways. There's been a lot of talk lately here in Iceland about prejudice and possible problems stemming from the immigrants, after a congressman made some very dubious comments slip at an interview. The internet has been ablaze about it, and the following is my own little take on the subject.

I take pleasure in walking the streets of the city and coming across different individuals.

I like meeting tiny little asian women who chatter loudly in a language so different from mine that I can't possible imagine what they're talking about.

I adore the Polish accordion player who often sits outside Bonus and plays his melancholy music and the feeling of gliding onwards up Laugavegur on his beautiful chords.

I find it nice to see the black guy that hangs at Sirkus a lot and always smiles at me when he sees me walking somewhere.

I love having friends of different nationalities that have chosen to come here and make this tiny frozen island in the distance their home (even though I really can't understand what it is that brings them here).

I think it's fantastic to be able to take my pick of different restaurants from all over the world, all sorts of exotic food that we didn't have here just a few years ago. If anything, I'd like to see more of these places. How about a Polish restaurant in downtown Reykjavík? I wouldn't mind having the option of grabbing some pierogi and kabanosy every now and then.

Quite frankly I think it's not only good, but neccessary, to have this country open to new influences, new people. In my mind that's one of the main ways to keep this a habitable land and not just a frozen rock where lopapeysu-clad people sit scowling, muttering to themselves "Well, that's the way it's always been done here and I don't see why we should start changing anything now."

I have no legs

2006-11-22T18:51:00.000Z

Well ok, that's not true. But I do not have any tonsils. Sometimes the health care system here works fast and well. And it was even less expensive than I was expecting. So, have no tonsils. Yay!
What I DO have, however, is this:
- a mandatory period of two weeks off work
- a broken dvd player
- a big bag of painkillers, all of which are of the "stick it up your ass" variety. Oh, the fun and glory of it all. And please note that I also have a bottle of antibiotics that I'm supposed to swallow, so it's clearly just for amusement points that the painkillers are not to be administered orally
- a Sam that is willing to pamper the sickly chick and make soup and bring icecream
- a boyfriend that is going to be extra special nice to me, but without the cooking though
- two boxes of popsicles, for medical purposes (oh, how I dreamed of this when I was a kid!)
- an unholy longing for chocolates and bananas (but that's only because I'm not allowed to have them for two days since they apparently stimulate the nerves and cause more pain)
- some new books, i.e. Eragon, Eldest, Fragile things and Giants of the Frost (although the last two are already half read), that should last me for a few days

Something tells me that these will be a good long two weeks

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

2006-11-19T22:58:00.000Z

So yeah, it snowed last night. When I woke up this morning (or more accurately around 13:00) my windows were covered and the entire city blanketed by a thick layer of snow.
And for the time being it's actual snow, not the horrid grey slush that usually fills the streets.
So there was of course only one thing to do, take a long walk in the fancy white stuff, before it melts away.
So I put on a warm sweater, put my mp3player firmly in my ears and went out and embraced the crystal city. It was perfect. Some quite deep snowpiles that I could wade through, snow reaching well above my knees, and great music playing in my head. Note; Nick Cave and The Ramones go especially well with fresh snow.
So I spent about two hours walking, and possibly dancing a bit, in the snow. There're probably quite a few people in the west part of town that think I'm a lunatic by now. Or would, you know, if I had danced. Which I'm not saying I did or want to admit in civilized circles.
So, a wonderful, wonderful walk on a wonderful day, topped off with the new Gaiman short story collection and an amazing cake at Café Oliver.
And later the gentleman caller is paying yet another visit. Although, I feel that in all fairness I should probably stop calling him that, since he's now been upgraded to boyfriend.

Ectomies and gentlemen

2006-11-15T21:55:00.000Z

Well, actually only one of each.
I'm going to throw myself at the mercy of a specialist tomorrow and beg him to remove my evil, evil tonsils. I've had horrid tonsillitis for ages now and I'm sick of it. Plus, in a way it sounds rather nice to get a legitimate excuse for not being at work for around 2 weeks, cause we all know just how much I love my job. So, there's that. I'm rooting for the surgery and preferably having it as soon as humanly possible. I'm sick and tired of not being able to eat.
And now that there's a gentleman caller in the picture I absolutely won't stand for not being able to kiss him without hurting my throat and/or giving him an infection. That sort of thing just won't do.
So, that poor specialist throat doctor person will never know what hit him. I'm willing to cry and whine and make a terrible scene until he caves and rips out the cause of my pain and annoyance.
And for once that doesn't refer to the ladybits.

Today's newsfind

2006-11-13T14:03:00.000Z

Must be this. Yes, I know it's a real estate site and not news.

But I still think it's pretty freaky that this is the Clutter home. As in THE Clutter home. The Clutter family murders that Truman Capote wrote about in In Cold Blood.
I mean, could you imagine living in that house? Even if it has original hardwood floors and a spacious kitchen, it also has a chilling history.

Sweet, sweet Sunday

2006-11-12T19:27:00.000Z

Yup, this is turning into an all around awesome sunday.
A long and steaming hot bath with Treasure Box, the Orson Scott Card novel I just bought, in my hand. It kept me entranced enough that I didn't get out of the tub till after almost three hours, all pink and wrinkly and very very clean.
Since then I've been sitting on my couch and reading the glorious interweb while Ingimundur putters around in my kitchen. He's pretty much done cleaning and by now he's cooking for me. Best houseguest ever! I should probably be helping him, but I sooo don't feel like it. Plus he seems to kinda like fussing about like an old maid, complaining softly to himself over the dust on the fan and all the dirty dishes and the general terror state of the kitchen. I am a lot of things, but housewife/domestic goddess is not one of them.
And as if this wasn't enough, I may just be getting a gentleman caller over later on. Which is a bit of an odd feeling, since I've completely forgotten how the hell it's supposed to work to not hook up with guys while at the bar, but instead invite them over and entertain or something like that. I'm not sure how this is supposed to go. Oh well, can't be too hard, can it?
Unless of course it will all resolve itself by the young man freaking the fuck out over the fact that my ex is here cleaning and cooking and is in fact rather likely to act like a cross between a protective older brother and a teasing friend.
Huh, this has potential to become one very interesting evening.

Far from the madding crowd

2006-11-09T18:36:00.000Z

Or at least hopefully from the mad freaks that want to "meat me". Ah, sweet internets, your wonders never cease.

So, here I am, giving up my never-actually-been-written-on-anonymous-sex-blog-site. The things I do for my friends. I could have become an interweb celebrity, I totally could. If I'd ever, you know, actually written anything on this site up until know. But it did seem like a great idea at the time.
Well, I guess I'll settle for being vaguely funny at times, with a loyal readership the grand total of three! I do hope you'll keep up your end of the bargain, darling ladies. Comment. And laugh at my jokes. And Eavan, you get your ass back to Iceland soon, I want to actually get to party with you and not miss all the fun for a guy. Even if he was cute.