Food... and now I have to go.

For some reason I am extraordinarily happy to be invited over to someone else's house for dinner.
I might just be served some bread and a glass of fanta, but at least I don't have to stand staying at home and hear my father say: "Your mum and me don't feel like making dinner. Go fix yourself some leftovers".

It's not that mum and dad are lazy. They're just at that age when everything's been done at least a thousand times. They feel like they're going around in an endless circle of pasta and meatballs.
So I tell them I'll make dinner.
They say: "what?"
I say: "I dunno.. We have some vegetables. We have some french fries... That salmon you bought yesterday. I could make some kind of sauce to dip the fries in."

And every single time,  I get the answer: "..hmmm. That sounds weird.."

You just can't help people who don't want to be helped.

And what the hell is wrong with eating salmon and french fries?

There will be no cook books in my house.
There will only be ingredients and free will.

Deliciousness happens by accident, anyway, doesn't it? My brother once dropped his chocolate powder on a piece of toast. Loved it.
I once put some chips on my toast.
It became an addiction.

Now, I have to go catch that bus, or Maria will kill me.


Yes, yes, yes. Everything sucks, Saade is the devil, let's not dwell on it.

I have this yearly tradition of writing a long essay about how much the world sucks after the swedish finale of Eurovision Song Contest.
But this year... I just don't feel like it.

We all know that the wrong guy won. He's a little boy with a microphone, and the girls voted for his face, not his voice. It's a disgrace.

But in my mind, Danny won. He certainly was the best artist of the evening, and I knew I wanted him to win from the start.

So... here's to dreams!
And seeing Eric Saade shatter them all.



I don't know.. Something about New Year's Eve.

My brain is screaming: ASS!!

So, that's what I'm going to do.

Today I want to talk about New Year's Eve, because... it's tomorrow. (Actually, for some of us.. It's just in a few minutes.)
The Japanese don't celebrate Christmas. They think they do, just because they make some cake and wear red sweaters. But no. (They take down the Christmas decorations on Christmas -friggin- Day, like: "Oh well, that was a nice couple of seconds. Time to move on")

BUT! They DO celebrate New Year's Eve. Big time.

For me... It's the other way around.
I don't give a crap about New Year's Eve, simply because no one else I know gives a crap about New Year's Eve.

When I was younger we used to go down to the nearest football field and watch fireworks... But then people stopped using fireworks, and suddenly we had a holiday --that's supposed to be all about fireworks-- without fireworks.
The only thing left now is gratinated potatoes and a long boring-ass speech on TV before midnight. (I know it's tradition, but it's the same speech every single year. We all know it by heart by now.....)

Of course, New Year's Eve is a party holiday. And therefore a girl like me --(a girl not very fond of getting drunk in front of strangers... or even at all)-- isn't supposed to get this holiday. But after talking to a few ex class mates, I have come to the conclusion that no one I know actually enjoys New Year's Eve. (Not even the drunks)

We must change this!!

We must turn New Year's Eve into something special!

Let's eat bacon and invent a new game called "48 hours sleepless." The losers have to walk around pant-less for the entire first week of January. That'll be tough for the colder countries.

Really, I'm just talking for the Swedes here.
I have no idea if other countries surrounding me have learned to enjoy this strange holiday.


Well... I suppose there is one thing I like about New Year's Eve...
And that is Dinner for One, a british comedy sketch from the 1920's.

I heard most british folk haven't even seen it. And to scandinavians it's an annual tradition, more important than getting drunk.

Google rules the world.

Ugh, lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy!!! >.<
*hits self with shovel*

Why do I have a shovel in my room?


Look, I don't know what to do with this blog. I really don't. I mean, what is this? Who am I? Where am I?
---- *gibberish, gibberish*

*hits self with shovel again*




Let's start over.

I started this blog because I missed my old blog. I wrote in english because I wanted everyone to be able to read it. But then I got lost, because ... writing in english made me connect it to all my other sites. And doing that made me think I had to write about books. But then I didn't write about books, and I started thinking: why have this blog at all?

I know that if I didn't have a blog, I'd want one. So I have to write about something.

...That "something" will have to be everything.
Are we all cool with that?

Maybe I'm the only one having these thoughts. Actually, I probably am.

Dudes and dudettes, I love you all.

...... Oh
, and speaking of connecting sites,
I'm starting to feel this burning hatred for google.

Of course I love the search engine, but why does google have to be everywhere? Why do I have to comment with my blogger account when on other people's blogs, even though I don't use blogger? And why do I have to get logged out of youtube whenever I switch email accounts? And for that matter, why do I have to create a new email account just because I want a new youtube account?
This entire inter-connectedness is starting to piss me off.

Oh, and just because I visited a website does n.o.t. mean I want to facebook or twitter about it.
Stupid buttons. Buttons everywhere.

You - Uhm, people are starving in Haiti?

Me - Ugh..... Fine, you win.

New video:


Young Swedes join NaNo.

This video warms my heart.

If you understand Swedish, you should watch this, and smile.


I love hearing what younger kids write about. Like: "His name is Tom, and he loves football. And he has a sister.. and her name is Sara. And she also loves football... and... and.. and..."

If I got to join NaNoWriMo as a kid, I'm pretty sure I would be better and finishing my stories.

When you get older, you lose that raw creative will, and a lot of imagination as well..


Teachers of the world!!! ------- Hear my plee!


Force your classes to write, write, write this November!


Why I don't believe in the art of debate.

"Arguing with a creationist is like playing chess with a pigeon.
It'll knock over the pieces,
crap on the board,
and fly back to it's flock to claim victory. "

This quote makes me smile, like marshmallows in my chocolate makes me smile.

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