tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58245592008-12-21T20:05:07.525+01:00Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.comBlogger248125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-83987349514960401232008-12-21T19:50:00.003+01:002008-12-21T20:05:07.534+01:00

There is something so very sad about this. How actual people can be either real, or figments of someone's imagination depending on what suffix you use.

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-81934901474003734442008-12-13T21:27:00.003+01:002008-12-14T21:37:16.985+01:00

As soon as Andreas falls asleep he becomes The Amazing Velcro Man, kittens attached everywhere. Or, well, the singular in this case, the other one has passed out on the floor from too much cat-nip. It's a slow night.

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-20202547132969929932008-12-04T21:17:00.013+01:002008-12-05T00:13:44.287+01:00

Fun facts: In Britain, the dental hygiene system is very poor. This, in addition to a British love of custard, makes for very yellow teeth. This is why British humor is more of the ironic kind rather than slapstick so as to encourage a playful sneer and deter toothy laughs. In Sweden, about 10% of the population is called Inga. Some might think this confusing, but considering the fact that

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-82033802418777711752008-12-04T00:22:00.011+01:002008-12-04T01:24:45.462+01:00

Hmm. Let me think, let me think. First class with its bigger seats and free internet to surf while nibbling on a bit of roquefort, as opposed to the MORE expensive second-class tickets with cramped seats, no internet and the rabble who just smell of roquefort. I don't know. If only there were a third option that would perhaps sweeten the deal. One even more expensive than second class but

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-87544096833369194392008-12-03T16:20:00.011+01:002008-12-04T01:26:39.124+01:00

When I worked at the hardware store I found something very, very satisfying about having to take out my carpenters' rule to help a customer. The action always warranted a barely audible sigh - denoting "What, don't You walk around with a carpenters' rule? For shame." A carpenters' rule is staple when you work in a hardware store, and is seemed to me natural that one would also bring a ruler

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-26096181119704433462008-11-25T17:32:00.014+01:002008-12-04T11:12:19.025+01:00

I'm making dhalpouri tonight. What's dhalpouri you ask? Well - Dhalpouri is yet ANOTHER reason why you need to find a nice Trinidadian and marry her. But I'll let you in on a secret, from me to you: Two very vital ingredients are salt, and black-pepper. None of which I had at home, I realized after coming halfway into seasoning some chicken. I headed off to the store instead to see if I couldn't

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-47274596222394322652008-11-20T15:19:00.015+01:002008-11-20T23:47:39.067+01:00

I admit, I'm a backseat driver. Not the positively annoying kind that sits behind you and tells you you're going too fast or too slow, or the kind that tells you that maybe you should have taken a left turn LIKE I TOLD YOU WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, but the kind who will sit quietly next to you, while you're playing whatever video game, and then, at the height of action - ask you if you were meant to

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-32111518579553063672008-11-19T18:15:00.010+01:002008-11-20T23:25:46.727+01:00

Being poor is hard work. I’m not poor enough to have to survive on water and mealy bugs, but poor enough to, occasionally get me into trouble. My dentist, for instance, now thinks that I have a mortal fear of him. I don’t. The reason for this is that I canceled an appointment with him oh-so-long-ago because I didn’t have the 3000 I needed to cough up to get a couple of teeth cleaned and fixed.

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-16058461474940869742008-04-06T22:55:00.005+02:002008-04-06T23:31:06.441+02:00

I'll be at my new job in exactly 10 hours. At the interview I was asked why I wanted this particular job. "That's easy!" I replied, "I'm a people person. I love helping people!" But I lied. I hate people. I don't like helping people, I like tripping them up. I confused the two momentarily - easy mistake during the pressure of a job interview. And so in retrospect, accepting this job was an

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-84660661665456621992008-03-26T22:06:00.010+01:002008-04-03T13:46:47.312+02:00

As always, Gondolen was wonderful. When you're that high up it doesn't matter how low you might be feeling. If only briefly, there is the city laid out before you, and for you alone. And there you are, pretending to crush tiny ant-people heads between your thumb and forefinger. Add a plate of gourmet food to that and ten years' worth of birthday blues are blown away. On our plates were a

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-90737231203250056202008-03-25T23:00:00.015+01:002008-03-26T18:08:31.878+01:00

I have a very smart brother who knows how to do very nifty things with the internet. The other day he was kind enough to look up which pages were viewed the most in this blog. The top two didn't really surprise me. "Why not to shave your pussy" and "Freeze it's a stick up your butt" both have an erotic twang to them, and might be of particular interest to genetalia afficionados in general. The

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-77054568994751894572008-03-18T18:06:00.008+01:002008-03-18T23:35:57.854+01:00

Last night I crawled into bed next to Andreas, a good hour or so after he'd fallen asleep. No sooner had my head hit the pillow than Andreas sits up, momentarily freezes as if to ponder his next move, and shouts a long, hearty "AAAAAAAAAHAAAAA!" to no-one in particular, save maybe the space of air directly in front of him. It's the hearty kind of "AHA" that seems to imply that Andreas now

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-37831832325680766652008-01-17T17:37:00.000+01:002008-01-18T01:40:30.466+01:00

Next to Donna, she's probably the most beautiful woman in the world. Sia, if you're reading this - return my calls. Why won't you return my calls. I swear, the dead pigeon was just a joke. Sia. Sia, so was the other dead pigeon.

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-29592447946867319112008-01-16T00:54:00.000+01:002008-01-17T23:55:44.266+01:00

Course, the fact that I'm giving up Snus might have something to do with the last post's bitterfittaness (as the Swedes say). The last time I tried to give it up was just before the start of summer 2006. I was off for some three months, which means a total two weeks into the job I'd just bagged. When the stress of work became too much, I went back on the patch. When the contents of lunch talks

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-43035904313265436282008-01-15T00:44:00.000+01:002008-01-18T01:44:31.497+01:00

Maybe I'm an asshole - Okay. I know I'm an ass. I voluntarily cut 45 minutes of lunch after I realizing that: 1) there was a heck of a lot of work to be done. Inventory, inventory, INVENTORY! And - Unpaid work-time is the shizznit when: 2) my lunch lady friends are intent on discussing crazy cute kitten behavior, and crazy hot Will Smith. Are you supposed to feign interest for the benefit of

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-26816535888515893942008-01-01T20:08:00.000+01:002008-01-03T17:01:47.728+01:00

Christmas Eve Christmas Day New Years Eve The Inevitable Aftermath (of optional scene from above) All the best for the New Year, folks.

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-51175232347392254332007-11-02T19:11:00.001+01:002008-04-03T13:48:31.269+02:00

A few years ago, when I was young and only slightly power mad and re-latively preposterous, I met a man. We'll call him Michell. Michell's real name was Mike - but having acquired a taste for escargots and now very multi-cultural - had his name legally changed to some French variation or the other. Michell loved to talk for hours on the phone, explaining his love of Islam, latest theory of

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-91021310832531809222007-11-01T22:29:00.000+01:002007-11-02T18:12:05.161+01:00

(Electric Six- I don't like you off "I shall Exterminate Everything Around Me that Restricts me from being Master".) Me: "Holy crap! William Shatner won't be in the next Star Trek movie! That's not right!" Workmate: "Who's William Shatner?" Me: "...He played Captain Kirk in Star Trek?" Workmate: "Oh, the movie?" Me: "Well, that too." Workmate: "I don't like Star Wars. I think it sucks.

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-44877026832583264752007-10-31T23:58:00.000+01:002007-11-01T21:35:51.513+01:00

They're thinking about banning baggy pants in a certain school in Stockholm. Personally, I don't care much for the style. These days it seems to be all about showing as much underwear as you can without showing the top of your thigh, because thighs are still taboo in this particular world of fashion. Buttocks took long enough to come out of the closet and into your alternative coffee place of

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-45606944847127333762007-10-30T23:16:00.000+01:002007-10-31T14:40:19.457+01:00

I came home today to find a shovel propped up against the wall in the hallway. ...Which is not particularly strange to me. It fits in with the rest of our decor. Our hallway still looks like a 1920's crazy person's world-war-five-preparation bunker, complete with peeling walls and the occasional ultra future nutrition bar (aka Snickers wrappers) squirreled away ("dropped") in various corners.

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-208132172008541492007-09-02T19:53:00.000+02:002007-10-30T23:06:38.211+01:00

This one is going to be in Swedish, unfortunately, but it was just so adorable that I have to print it: "Har ni fortfarande kontakt med Sonny och hans fru?" "Jo, men de har blivit väldigt muslimska" "Aha?" "Kvinnan, hon bär ju huvudbonad, och mannen har jämt en burka på sig." "Jag tvivlar att det är burka han har på sig." "Jo men du vet, den där lilla mössan. Som ser ut som en burk."

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-68004616002308659672007-08-31T03:16:00.000+02:002007-08-31T03:25:49.666+02:00

My mom and I went to the hairdresser early this morning. Mom needed a haircut and I thought I’d color my hair a lighter shade of dark. Seeing as how I’d colored my hair black shortly before leaving for the trip though, this proved to be too much to hope for. “But I can give you highlights” “To go with…black? What color would you recommend?” “Something light. A light blonde” “How about something

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-50886061341078965922007-08-30T03:13:00.000+02:002007-08-30T03:22:28.171+02:00

There were always been several spots I avoided stepping my foot on when I was younger. These were usually places where insects had been killed. I always imagined that there was something left of it on the ground. Like the spot outside the bathroom door, where we killed a cricket. All the juices that fled the now flattened body had left a ghostly cricket imprint on the floor, which lingered

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-78433330118767939892007-08-29T12:23:00.000+02:002007-08-29T12:30:55.802+02:00

It took a good 24 hours, but I finally got here. Now for completely random flight details: British Airways: If you want your complimentary sandwiches to fly faster toward you than the plane to the destination. Should you happen to catch it, beware of the bacon & tomato brioche if you have cholesterol problems, a heart condition, or a semi-functioning palate. Virgin Airlines: I love you. I love

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5824559.post-73819629763874024322007-08-02T19:29:00.000+02:002007-08-02T23:54:55.827+02:00

Yesterday Krister came with an unusual question. "See, Andreas and I, well, we'd like to see what would happen if we shaved Kerstin." Kerstin, for general information, is our fat cat. Shaving your cat feels like it's more of a people benifitting act that a cat-benifitting act. Something to laugh at long before the hair grows back out, but long after getting clawed to bits. It's one of those

Creephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16581969423626676657noreply@blogger.com5