It’s funny how the support staff (whose help I’ve enlisted in finding a home) seem to be more interested in me finding a “nice Nordic girl.”
I awoke once more from a recurring nightmare; one in which my mom signs me up for singing classes and I bow out of it in some scary fashion.
My mysterious-looking office keys seem to have gone mysteriously missing. Mysteriously, the rest of the key-bunch is still intact.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the greatest television show ever made. Ever.
I think it’s unfortunate that mouldy cheese has a bad rap. Someone really ought to stand up for the cheese.
I’ve never seen anyone with more pairs of shoes than she has clothes before. I always thought those sorts of needs scaled uniformly.
I’m spending a couple of days in a tiny town called Åsgårdsstrand: the home of the world famous (in Norway) painter, Edvard Munch.
I actually saw a real life flame thrower today. It’s a pity it was this itsy-bitsy thing that was being used to burn away some weeds.
As I stepped out at 8 pm to go see Wall-E (which ended up being sold out), I noticed that the sky looked like it did at 3 am in summer.
Lipsticks and pigs
I’ve been paying way too much attention to U.S. politics; even more so I think than when I was in America. It’s just that the presidential race has been way too much fun to ignore. And here’s what I think is going to happen:
At least, until the rumours that Barack Obama fathered a white baby out of wedlock begin to circulate.
Her grand idea of a sweeping career change was for me to shift my focus to fluids? Great, now I get to deal with unimaginative voices.
“Abandon solid mechanics,” a strange, disembodied voice whispered to me in semi-sleep.
I’m walking with a limp; I think my right knee is busted. Perhaps the sports-injury fairy failed to notice I haven’t ever played a sport.
Tabula rasa: If there was a button I could push to erase every memory I have, I’d probably push it.
If I spend any more time in my bathtub, I’m going to have to consider giving up my lungs in favour of gills.