Benji's Modern Life

Farewell, Whit Whit

2012-02-12T22:07:00.003+01:00

If your name is Britney or Whitney your nickname from me will be Brit Brit or Whit Whit. Deal with it.

By now everybody in the damn world has heard about the untimely demise of Ms. Houston so I thought I'd add my two cents about the life and times of Whit Whit Houston-Brown.

In grad school, back when I had cheap access to a gym and therefore weighed a number of kilos less, the 80's channel on the gym TV played I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) all. the. damn. time. It's an OK song, it's no I Will Always Love You, but good enough on a musical level. However, I will argue that it is one of the best workout song ever for one very simple reason:

Whitney Houston had the hottest body of all time.

Exhibit A:

This is the closest thing I could find to a full body shot from the video but damn, her body was slammin' in that video. Like, she-could-be-in-a-White-Snake-video good. Truly rockin'.

The mile high crimped hair and neon make-up were also a real treat to witness. I wish to god we could get away with looking like that today, as my thin, curly hair is ripe from the crimping - and "back combing".

Divas Live will be a little more somber this year (Is that still a thing? Does VH1 still exist?) but life must go on for Gloria- Celine-Shania-Mariah (Cuba-Canada-Cowgirl-Crazy).

Personally, I will remember her as a source of thinspiration, though I suspect the rest of the world will use her legacy as a reminder to Just Say No.

From Tundra to Tropics

2012-01-13T12:32:00.008+01:00

Exciting news! I'm moving...

...Down Under!

My hot Norwegian why-don't-you-just-get-married-already boyfriend is transferring internally with his company and I, the good shacker upper that I am, am joining him as a trailing spouse!

We'll be moving to Brisbane in February 2012 once his Temporary Business (Long Stay) - Standard Business Sponsorship (Subclass 457) - got that?- visa is approved, which should be 2 to 5 weeks as of this writing.

As much as I've "enjoyed" my post-grad school life of leisure the past few months I'm ready to get back to work, so as soon as we touch down we'll be 1) searching for an apartment in a rental market tighter than Buns of Steel and 2) securing employment for me. If you happen to be in charge of an International Office at one of the three universities in Brisbane, and happen to need an extra body, and you happen to be reading this, give me a holla. It's time to put my edu-ma-cation to work!

Here is a short list of the things I hope to do/see/experience during my minimum-two-years stint living in Oz:

#1 Watch Steve Irwin dangle a baby in front of a crocodile

That baby is half grown by now and a sting ray smote him good, so I'll have to settle for visiting his zoo, the cleverly named Australia Zoo. Zoos to me are like cigarettes or heroine to others. I know it's wrong but I just can't quit them.

#2 Dive in the Great Barrier Reef

This will require me to get PADI certified, which I stupidly started but did not finish when I lived in the US many moons ago. I have zero faith in the assholes we call humanity so you know that reef won't be around much longer. I want to get a good up close and personal look before it's all gone (or bleached to smithereens; see asshole comment above - that was not a coincidence).

#3 Eat kangaroo

I'm working on the assumption that seeing a live kangaroo is a given. Eating one, however, might take more effort. I have really come to enjoy moose meat (as you will see in a future edition of Norsk Mat) and I'm expecting kangaroo to taste similar: Meaty, gamey, delicious. There's only one way to find out, NOM NOM NOM.

#4 Discover (embrace?) the sun

If I'm ever outdoors (and that's a big if) you will find me slathered in SPF 75 or higher, under an umbrella, wearing a hat, bitching about the heat. Then why would I move to Australia you might asking yourself. I have no rebuttal to that.

Australia has the world's highest rate of skin cancer and the sun is legitimately more dangerous than elsewhere due to a thinned ozone layer (or so I hear) so I guess my ultimate goal is to not bitch too loudly - or frequently - about the sun and heat. On the plus side I've purchased some adorable shorts which I look forward to rocking. I haven't worn shorts in years, so I'm excited. With the legs of an East German shot putter I just might be able to pull them off without horrifying the locals.

#5 Go cage diving

If there's only one thing I could choose to do/see/experience while living in Oz it is cage diving.

OMG OMG OMG I cannot wait. Can. Not. Wait.

I love sharks. Nay, I am in love with sharks. Shark Week on the Discovery Channel is the #1 reason I would ever move back to the US (almost). Cage diving and seeing a Great White would be an absolute dream come true. I can't even accurately convey my feelings into words, that is how much I want to do this.

And I will. And it will kick ass and I will probably pee a little from excitement. I just hope I make it into the water before I go on a tinkling spree.

Of course I want to see the Sydney Opera House and visit Ayers Rock (actually I could give two shits less about seeing a rock in the middle of the desert but Martin really wants to see it, so I'm in) and all the other tourist things one must do when visiting Australia. I want to nip on over to New Zealand, but don't care to bother with Fiji. I want to feel fat and inadequate on Bondi Beach, and hold a koala bear if I'm reasonably assured it lives a happy life in captivity.

This will be my third international move in just shy of five years. I am very grateful for the opportunities afforded to me and am very excited for the adventures that lie ahead for Martin & I.

Goodbye tundra, hello tropics! Stay tuned for future tales of cage diving, pants pissing and new adventures.

Norsk Mat - Norwegian Food part deux - totally nasty edition

2011-12-23T21:50:00.007+01:00

Being a gigantic fatass I love/will eat just about anything (barring pickles, mustard or American mayo). However, a few Norwegian culinary creations should not be consumed by anybody, ever. Because they are F'ing disgusting and can barely be classified as food. Case in point:

Dish 1: Beef tartare

Raw hamburger meat, topped with a raw egg, and pickles, sweet baby Jesus pickles! It's almost too heinous to comprehend. As I've mentioned before, I'm told that salmonella doesn't exist in Norway so eating raw eggs is no problem. That's awesome for raw cookie dough eating, but really unnecessary for anything else. Raw eggs are not food. They're aborted chickens. Why would you eat that?!

Eating raw hamburger meat just beggars belief. In less than 10 minutes you could whip that up into a lovely taco or sloppy joe. And yet you eat it raw. You disgust me.

Because there is obviously a benevolent god out there I was offered the most delish frozen pizza ever as a meal while the rest of the family "enjoyed" this dish. I tried a teeny tiny mouthful of raw beef and while it didn't taste like much, on principal alone I deemed this Never to be Consumed by Me Again. Eew.

Dish 2: Rakfisk

Fisk in Norwegian means fish (duh) and rak is an old Norse word for soft. "Soft fish" doesn't sound so bad, does it? Except that it really means fermented, raw fish.

Rakfisk is almost as spreadable as butter and smells like a ten-year-old corpse. It is not, by my personal account, food at all but rather a dish so rotten that zombies wouldn't even touch it with a ten foot pole.

In this picture it is shown next to chopped leek, which is served with the heinous fish and plenty of sour cream in a lefse. If you grew up in the Midwest I reckon you know what a lefse is. If not, there's always Wiki to show you the light.

I had a bite of this fish, with sour cream, in the proportion of 1:10. As much as I love sour cream, never again. It tastes like it smells: like death incarnate. That is some Walking Dead shit that does not belong in my mouth.

Dish 3: Lutefisk

As you can see from this photo, this "food" didn't even make it into the house. I was surprised demand is high enough to carry it in mainstream grocery stores. I'd categorize lutefisk as something you should know about if you grew up in the Midwest. Knowing what it tastes like, however, is a whole different ballgame.

Lutefisk is some type of fisk (who cares which) that has been soaked in lye. Lye being "a corrosive alkaline substance" - which will burn the skin straight off you if you touch it. In other words, it's poison.

So poissons + poison = food in Norway.

I had one bite of lutefisk in my youth, but it was so drown in butter that it almost tasted pleasing. But if I wanted to eat poison I'd just go back to America and have my pick of the litter.

I'm getting queasy so that's where I'll end. Looks like it's only Ginger Ale and saltines for me for the rest of the day.

All I want for Christmas...

2011-12-19T23:03:00.015+01:00

...is tons and tons of name brand shit. None of this "Tis better to give than receive" malarkey for me. I want stuff. Awesome, awesome stuff. If you plan to buy me stuff in the near future, here's a handy list to guide you through you all the sweet stuff that's sure to please me, or any other female who fits into my narrow demographic:

This is my numero uno. Watch by Michael Kors, style 4227. It's sold out everywhere online, so that just makes me want it all the more. I just love it. I <3 gold.

Staying on the gold theme I want small gold "hoop" earrings. I put hoops in quotes because if it barely covers the lobe I'd hardly consider it a hoop. Either gold is making a comeback or I'm stuck in 1986. I love yellow gold.

My current set of make-up brushes aren't so much a set as a single brush, that is embarrassingly old and overused. I'm pushing 30, it's time to get a real, matching nice set of make-up brushes.

I love this movie, it's one of my all time faves. It's been on my Christmas list since I first saw it a few years ago and I've never seemed to acquire it. I watch it every year on TV and refuse to get into the Christmas spirit until I've seen it. What if the networks decide not to show it one year?! Christmas would be ruined. Ergo, I need this DVD (I ain't fancy enough for Blu-Ray) in my collection.

I am a lotion lover and heavy user, so I really should invest in something a little better than Vaseline Intensive Care. In Asia we got a full size (full size!) bottle of Crabtree & Evelyn lotion at the Millennium Hilton and you better believe that sucker came home with me once we checked out.

This is a random/generic picture of a small, cross body purse that's perfect for traveling. I would prefer a fancy schmancy label on it, and I'm still unsure of what color I want. Black? Brown? Whatever is the most versatile. I need a pickpocket-proof purse, though, for carrying my hand sanitizer and emergency toilet paper supply on my world travels.

Crock pot! Now here is a tale of love and loss if ever there was one. I had a crock pot once, very recently, but she (yes, she) had to be returned due to an upcoming move where I have to pack light (more on the move coming soon). Once settled into my new locale I hope to acquire another crock pot, hopefully at a fraction of the cost of my old girl - goddamn crock pots are expensive in Norway!

This is very close to the top of my wish list, neck-in-neck with the watch. It's a purse that holds wine! It's sheer brilliance, just imagine the places you could smuggle wine into undetected! Picnics! Concerts! Work! There's even a compartment to put an ice pack, in case you're smuggling white wine. I will own this modern marvel sooner or later, even if I have to pay for it in pennies I begged from a hobo.

Did you know you can subscribe to American magazines even if you live abroad? It costs more than a domestic subscription but isn't overly expensive. This is my favorite magazine in the post-Seventeen, pre-Good Housekeeping demographic. It's intelligent, not The Slut's Handbook (I'm looking at you, Cosmopolitan) and has lots of pretty I-could-never-afford-that fashion for me to look at. No longer will I have to pay €5 a pop for one measly issue at an airport kiosk

Tory Burch flats. Not much I can say beyond classique. They come in a variety of colors and patterns, I'm not particularly picky about which I get. I'm a size 10 US, 41 European, 8 UK. So worldly my feet are!

I don't necessarily want note cards with a Vespa scooter on them, but this is the best picture I could find. I don't know who else besides Vera Wang has a stationary collection, but I want some pretty, blank note cards. They don't even need to be designer, just pretty. Artsy-fartsy, even. When I have note cards I actually send people mail, just because. And that makes me look like an awesome friend. You get mail and I get good karma. It's win-win!

From the picture alone you might be asking yourself: What is this mideval torture device? Well, it's a bra washing ball. For the males out there, this means you put your bra in it, then wash it, so the bra retains it's shape. This want fits squarely in the why-don't-you-just-buy-it-yourself-you-freakshow camp and I agree. My answer to that is because I've never seen one in a store, ever! If I came across one, believe me, I'd snatch it up immediately. I'm not about to pay 100% duty on it by ordering it online, so on my Wish List it goes. Perhaps if I get it I'll wash my bras at the recommended frequency, after every second wear. Ha! Not bloody likely.

This is my favorite (lady) scent ever. I actually looked up the difference between eau de toilette and eau de parfum when researching which one I want. I forget which was "better", but Madomeoiselle comes in both and the parfum bottle is prettier. So parfum it is. Again, a total classic. It's all the flash and luxury of Chanel without smelling like an old lady (ahem, No. 5).

Estimated value of my entire Wish List? I don't know and don't want to know! I don't want to look the reality of my consumerist bourgeois tendencies in the face. Or realize what a tactless label whore I really am.

Paris, France - Favorite Pic

2011-12-16T21:00:00.005+01:00

Imagine having to pick just one favorite picture from Paris. The City of Light, Gay Pairee. You just try! It ain't easy, especially when you have tens of pictures to choose from.

So I thought I'd take the road less traveled and choose a picture that brought me the most entertainment. Because that's what this whole charade [earth] is here for, isn't it? My entertainment.

I am about to let you in on a little secret. A secret that isn't intentionally kept under wraps (Da Vinci Code-style), but is a secret more because the truth is simply and sadly overlooked (Tom Selleck almost was Indiana Jones-style):

There is a painting of a midget in the Louvre.

A real painting of a real midget. Oh the JOY it brings me!

There is the reason why this delicious morsel of truth is unknown to the masses:

It's right next to the freaking Mona Lisa.

So everybody is too busy doing this BS:

to turn their head slightly to the right and notice their proximity to a sweet midget painting.

I don't know who painted it, I don't know who the people in the painting are. Nor do I know who the artist pissed off to get such a highly trafficked yet still-totally-crappy location. What I do know is this:

Midgets in ancient (Ok maybe not ancient) artworks are hilarious, and have resulted in my favorite picture from my weekend in Paris. Enjoy:

Disclaimer: I do not mean to offend any "little people" with this post. I know you have it hard enough with Matt Roloff's hair brained scheming ass being your de facto spokesperson. P.S. If you ever run into him at one of your conventions tell him to get his shit together and get a job.

Norsk Mat - Norwegian Food

2011-12-16T17:15:00.007+01:00

Norwegians enjoy some....interesting....culinary creations. Some are legitimately tasty while others I would maturely classify as "barf-tacular". Word on the street (mostly in-flight magazines, so take that for what it's worth) is that Scandinavian food is the haute cuisine du jour.

Immediately upon returning to Norway from a year spent in Scotland we went on a quest to enjoy the Norwegian-est of Norwegian food, to cleanse our palate of that haggis taste and make up for lost time. Here is a collection of our culinary adventures, with a description (and link to a recipe if you speak Norwegian and/or have Google Translate) for those who want to try these dishes for themselves.

Disclaimer: I am a sucky photographer in the best of circumstances, but when there's food in front of me waiting to be eaten I care even less about the quality of my photographs, so don't expect food blog-quality photos here.

Dish 1: Salmon, potato and cucumber salad

While salmon isn't exclusively a Norwegian dish (those Scots sure claimed their fair share of the world's supply) I would say that one of the accoutrements is. Agurksalat, cucumber salad, is a simple side dish that is mainly thinly sliced cucumbers and white vinegar. Being a lifelong hater of all things vinegar, I don't particularly care for this salad, but the pinch of sugar in it does make it more palatable.

Somewhere I heard that there are daily flights from Norway to Japan, to supply them with the freshest, most awesome fish available to use for sushi. Even if that's not true, Norwegian salmon, served cooked or raw, is awesome. This ubiquitous Norwegian fish dish gets a big thumbs up from me (as long as I don't have to eat too much of the salad to be polite).

Dish 2: Lapskaus stew

This dish is called lapskaus, which Google Translate tells me means "stew". I would consider "stew" a classification that encompasses different types, but lapskaus is one specific dish. It includes the cheapest beef money can buy, along with bits of potatoes, carrots and rutabaga. My mother-in-law is about as picky of an eater as a 2-year-old (Lord help me if she ever actually reads this) so this version contained only beef and potatoes. It's plain, it's cheap, it's filling. Everything that Norwegian cuisine, invented before Cindarella went to the ball, is destined to be.

You might be asking yourself: What is that gelatenous, blood clot-looking red blob on the plate next to the lapskaus? If I were more clever I'd throw in an abortion joke here, but alas I am not that bright so you will be spared. That is tyttebærsyltetøy, or lingonberry jam. I love tyttebærsyltetøy, and eat it with pretty much all Norwegian dishes. It adds a sweet little kick to food, like a little dessert with each bite.

I would like to point out an epic Google Translate fail here. It translates tyttebær as cranberries.

Lingonberries =/= cranberries

These are lingonberries:

And these are cranberries:

Ok, that really doesn't help my case much but they are different. Cranberries are bigger, I believe. And more bitter. The Norwegian word for cranberries is tranebær. Norwegian doesn't have many words (literally - only 1/3 the number of words as the English language), so trust me, they wouldn't waste 2 separate words on a single thing. Tranebær are cranberries and tyttebær are lingonberries, and lingonberry jam is the shit.

No Norwegian meal is complete without it. Them. Whatever. You buy it in a jar next to all the other jams so no oppskrift (recipe) will be provided. If you make your own you've got way too much time on your hands, and nobody makes their own. End 'o story.

I'll wrap this up now since my old heart can't take much more berry related stress. Plus I just enabled the new Facebook timeline, or what I like to call How To Stalk Yourself, so I can't possibly keep away from my new favorite thing ever one second longer.

Stay tuned for more featured Norwegian dishes in the future, once I tire of my new Facebook toy. Next time the dishes won't be so kindly looked upon by me. Yes, I'm talking about barf-tacular food!

Why Do People Move?

2011-10-18T10:48:00.001+02:00

Why do people move? What makes them uproot and leave everything they've known for a great unknown beyond the horizon? Why climb this Mount Everest of formalities that makes you feel like a beggar? Why enter this jungle of foreignness where everything is new, strange and difficult?

The answer is the same the world over: people move in the hope of a better life.

-Yann Martel, Life of Pi

Where Have I Been All Your Life?

2011-02-04T01:39:00.004+01:00

It's been 10 months since I mustered the mental energy to keep up this dog and pony show. Now that my days consist of a lot more than Simpsons re-runs I figured it'd be worth it to put my blogging panties on once again.

Here's a quick run down of how 2010 played out. I...

1) Went to the EuroVision song contest in Oslo, like I said I would last year.

This is my favorite act of EuroVision 2010, Greece. They totally broke my cardinal rule of One Must Speak English at EuroVision but it totally works for them. Love this song, and it was so fun to see in person!

I also got to see last years winner performed live which was awesome.

2) Was a bridesmaid for the first time.

3) Went to Asia (you can follow me day by day here)

4a) Quit my enjoyable, stable job.
b) Moved to Scotland.
c) Started grad school.

5) Went to Paris.

6) Turned 28.

A combination of 4 a (lack of money), b (damn TV licensing fee) & c (lack of free time) has lead to me no longer having a TV.

So long, beloved Simpsons re-runs. You are greatly missed!

Of Guns and Squirrels

2011-01-26T01:03:00.004+01:00

I'm baaaaaack! More to come on my blogging hiatus later.

For now I will indulge the reason you're all here: The story of how my dad shot a squirrel in the house with young children in close proximity. Or, for the sake of brevity, TSoHMDSaSitHwYCiCP.

But first, some background. I have a crazy weird memory. I will forget every single thing that happened two days prior but can remember very clearly things that happened as far back as age 2 (for reals). These are not important events, mind you, just...events, random ones, from long, long ago.

Since starting grad school (thus consuming much, much more alcohol than usual) I found myself retelling a latent memory of my dad shooting a squirrel inside the house more than once. I wasn't entirely sure this really happened (mind you, my crazy weird memory can sometimes be dreams or my mind playing tricks on me) so I went to the source himself to ask.

To which The Old Man replied [editors notes in brackets]:

-------------
You and [sister, 1 year younger] were just little and for some reason I had the day off, so was home baby sitting you guys. For quite some time you had been saying there was a squirrel in the house. I never saw it and figured you guys were full of baloney. I went out to [owner of horse farm]'s and got a trap and set up in the back entry by the old International chest type freezer (an integral part of the story). Put some peanut butter on it and nothing happened. No squirrel so I passed it all off.

On this particular day I was sitting in the living room reading the paper when I caught something out of the corner of my eye -- something moving extremely fast, coming from the kitchen into the living room. It was the squirrel - with Puskar [family cat] chasing it. The chase came into the living room and around and around. The squirrel was so quick that the cat would lose track of it. I went and got my .22 pistol and found some shells for it - bird shot, sorta like a small shotgun shell with bb's in it. Puskar chased the squirrel back to the back entry, where it jumped up on the railing going to the basement. I didn't have the gun loaded yet, so I threw a shell in the cylinder, spun it to hopefully the right spot, aimed and ---- click. The bullet wasn't in the right chamber.

Hearing the click the squirrel scampered under the old freezer. I looked underneath and couldn't see it anywhere but knew it was up in the works someplace. The freezer was too heavy to move by myself so I went to the garage and got a piece of 2x4. Put the 2x4 between the wall and the freezer and reefed on it - which moved the freezer out a little bit. Out came the squirrel and the chase was on again, Puskar in pursuit of the squirrel and me behind both of them. Back to the living room. The squirrel ran up and down the curtains -- almost thought of pulling a shot when it stopped at the top of the front window curtain but sanity prevailed -- first, they were Mom's new white curtains (!) and second, there was a window behind that curtain.

Shoed the squirrel back down to the floor and it ran under the old hutch, cat in pursuit. Round and round the circus went. One of you two, think it was [sister], was sitting in the middle of the floor watching tv. Anyway, the squirrel was getting tired and ran into the northeast corner of the room, behind the piano. A blind alley so to speak. I could see its shadow sitting there so I aimed and fired. Hit the squirrel but didn't kill it. It came running out towards the kitchen/living room door but I stomped on it with my boot - end of squirrel. Gun smoke circling in the air.

When the story got around town that I'd shot the squirrel in the house everyone thought I was kinda nuts. [Neighborhood kid whose name I have never heard in my life] was our paperboy at the time and he would see the thing sitting in the living room window when he would delivery papers early in the morning. He thought we had a pet squirrel! Since then a lot of squirrels have met their demise on the property but that was the only one in the house!
-------------

This was America, people, where we have the right to bear arms!

My dad pulled a Dick Cheney on that poor squirrel, and it didn't even die! So he delivered the death blow with his boot (cowboy, I would bet) in front of three children - girls - aged 7, 6 and not-even-walking-yet 1.

So there it is, folks, my childhood. TSoHMDSaSitHwYCiCP.

Stockholm, Sweden - Favorite Pic

2010-04-08T01:11:00.005+02:00

Despite working 60 hour work weeks at the local pork processing plant, my dear friend Lindsey came to visit me in The Mother Land in late February. Having grown up in poverty in a trailer park in Buzzards Gulch, SD Lindsey had never traveled outside of the Dakotas before, much less to a different country.

Imagine her surprise when she was treated to not one but two international destinations. After pawning her 3 kids off on various family relations, Lindsey was ready to see the sights of not only Norway, but Sweden as well. I had never been there before, either, which brings me to my favorite picture of our trip to Stockholm:

We stayed in The Red Boat, which is a floating boat hotel that is colored a deep shade of aqua marine. Nah, I'm just shitting you - it really is red. And this is the view of the one and only window in our room, also known as a porthole. Lindsey had never heard that term before and assumed I was talking about some sort of latrine type apparatus when I mentioned it. Oh mercy me, the things you have to teach these country folk!

After yet another pregnancy scare for Lindsey during our trip we wound up having a fabulous time, complete with a traditional Swedish dish called tunnsbrodsrulle. Nothing says "Just like Lindsey's mom used to make" like shrimp salad and mashed potatoes surrounding a deep fried hot dog.

Full disclosure: Today Lindsey makes $250,000 a year and is engaged to a United States senator. She hasn't spoken to me since her visit.

In Praise of Gaga

2010-03-06T00:03:00.013+01:00

The very bestest thing I like about living in Norway is the ability to shield myself from American popular culture. Call me a grumpy old curmudgeon but I am in no mood to put up with the youth of today and what they consider hip and with it.

That said, have y'all heard about this popular new musical artist Lady Gaga? Rumor has it she has lady bits and man bits, but from what I can see she is all woman:

And you know what? If she does have a teeny weeny peen that won't make her any less hot. Because homegirl can sing. And dance. And, lest we forget, America celebrates a rich heritage of dudes-who-are-hotter-than-most-chicks:

Oddly alluring yet undeniably sexy. Moustache or not.

Gee Thanks, Uncle Sam

2010-02-15T21:47:00.004+01:00

I got a care package from the United States of America:

And by care package I mean "even though you don't live here anymore or earn money here or pay taxes here you have to file taxes here or else" package.

*gulp*

Last year I, like the good expatriate I am, filed my taxes in the U.S. For an income earned (and taxed) entirely in Norway. Yeah, you figure that one out. But, I'm a rule follower, so I bucked up and filed.

But - I flinch just writing this - my bottom line was a negative number. Oy vei. I made less than the Foreign Earned Income Exclusion of $91,400. Yes, folks, I'm sorry to break your illusions but I make less than $90k. However I did pay student loan interest in the U.S., for the sake of ease let's say $500.

Let's do some math:

$0 (income)
minus
$500 (student loan interest paid)
equals
-$500 (bottom line of tax return)

I'm no mathematician or IRS finger breaker but I do know that having a negative bottom line on your tax return is like riding Osama bin Laden's back through a gay pride parade with a basket of Haitian babies wearing this:

So Uncle Sam has tracked me down and has shown me in 300 easy to read pages how to not screw it up this time.

*gulp*

To Roast a Chicken

2010-02-05T19:06:00.005+01:00

Perhaps one of the most perplexing questions of the universe, I have solved the riddle of how to turn this:

Into this:

And how might you ask? The answer is absolutely astounding. The answer is: EASILY!

I never in a bijillion years thought I was grown up enough or had mad enough cooking skillz to roast a chicken. It intimidated the bejesus but it is nothing to be scared of! Here's how you, too, can impress your friends and fam with a big 'ol fancy roast chicken.

Ingredients:
Whole chicken
1 lemon
Bottle of lemon juice
Butter
Garlic (I use pre-chopped from a jar, sue me)
Salt
Pepper

Disclaimer: I am not a measure-er, I'm an eyeball-er. I eyeball almost everything I cook. So, when roasting your very own chicken use the amount that looks right based on the size of your chicken.

Step 1: Wash chicken
Yes, run that bald, nasty looking thing under the kitchen sink. It felt icky to do so (aren't we going to eat that?!) but, for some reason I don't understand, it must be done. Make sure it's thoroughly thawed first. Pat dry with paper towels.

Step 2: Put stuff on chicken
I used a mix of melted butter, lemon juice from a bottle and a few teaspoons of garlic. Having a basting brush would really come in handy at this point, but I'm not comfortable with that sort of financial commitment so I just spooned the juice over it. Don't forget to baste the cavity, which will from here on be referred to as the a-hole.

Step 3: Put stuff in a-hole of chicken
Roll a lemon around on the counter to get the juices flowing. Slice it in half and shove it into the chicken's a-hole. The a-hole of my chicken could only handle 1 lemon but I suppose if your chicken had a super big a-hole you could fit a few more in there.

Step 4: Cook chicken
A nifty little tip I read online is to let the chicken spend half the cooking time breast side down so the delicious moist-inducing juices run into, not out of, the tasty, tasty breasts. It was a good tip and you should follow it, too. My chicken spent the first 45 minutes of its hour and 45 minute cooking time breast side down.

Cooking time depends on the weight of the bird, but a good rule of thumb is 20-ish minutes per pound plus a little extra. I was expecting my 4 pound bird to cook for 1 hour and 30 minutes but the meat thermometer I inserted wasn't quite up to the chicken symbol at that time so I let it cook another 15 minutes. Thankfully that was sufficient for salmonella prevention, though I remember hearing somewhere that salmonella does not exist in Norway.

Let the bird sit for 10-15 minutes once it comes out of the oven - remember, chicken cooking is all about moisture creation, retention and preservation. If you cut it too soon the juices will run right out and you'll be left with dry meat. This also applies to steak. Rachael Ray taught me that.

Resting time is also a good time to finish whipping up your side dishes. I served my roast chicken with garlic mashed potatoes and lemon-shallot brussel sprouts. If you said 'eew' to the brussel sprouts I would like to personally punch you in the face. They are so good and have a totally undeserved bad reputation. And they're healthy, too (if you care about that sort of thing)!

If you're an anal Norwegian male who can't cook without a very specific recipe, check out the one I based mine on.

Impress your friends and fam, roast a chicken with these 4 easy steps. Martha will be so proud!

Blog for Choice

2010-01-22T21:50:00.003+01:00

Oblivious me, without fail, forgets this date every year until I stumble upon a reminder that today is the anniversary that Roe v. Wade was decided. And every year I think "I am so lucky to have a choice in what happens to my life".

I was reminded by this nifty little campaign by NARAL Pro-Choice America:

The campaign asks bloggers to answer the question: What does Trust Women mean to you?

It's hard for me to answer a question that's so simple. So painfully, obviously simple. To me it means trusting women, not a government, not a religion, not an outside force, to make decisions about what they think is best for themselves. To not treat women like fragile porcelain dolls that, those poor dears, need to be told what to do, lest they wrinkle their pretty little foreheads thinking too hard.

Abortion ain't pretty; it's only ever talked about in hushed tones and, increasingly to a terrifying level, through spitting venom. Most people who've had one, I'd guess, wouldn't publicly admit it. And why would they? It's their choice and their lives. Nobody needs to be involved except the people of their choosing. Again, no government, no religion, no outside force. Nor is it something to be ashamed of.

If I ever have daughters in the future (sons, too - children I choose to have) I don't want them growing up in a world without abortion. Access to abortion is a civil and human right.

Being Martha Stewart

2010-01-10T22:41:00.004+01:00

Lots of bloggers write about their culinary adventures for all the world to see. I like reading about said adventures so, in an effort to mask just how lacking in personality I am, I'll jump on the bandwagon.

After an attempt at pumpkin cheesecake on Christmas Day (damn you Norway and your lack of pre-made graham cracker crusts) I had some leftover pumpkin in a can, purchased safely in July before the pumpkin shortage crisis of 2009.

I went to my favorite recipe website, Recipezaar.com, to see what was in the 'ol cookbook. Yes, I am awesome enough to have an account there which stores saved recipes in a "cookbook". That makes me a foodie, right?

In the time I've had an account with The Zaar (as we foodies call it) I've collected quite a few recipes over the years. 184 to be exact. A quick search for "pumpkin" reveals this tasty sounding delight: Pumpkin Chocolate Loaf. I like pumpkin. I like chocolate. I like loaves. And had all the ingredients in the house, which is vital on a Sunday when the grocery stores are all closed. I would've murdered for such a luxury as a grocery store employee in high school, but that's a story (rant?) for another day. Back to the food.

My blogging-about-cooking idea came a wee bit late, as most people take pictures during the entire step-by-step process. Well, my dough was all mixed up before the light bulb went off in my head so all I have is a before and after shot of my culinary creation:

Before baking:

After baking:

Was it good? Yes. Was it great? No. But I think I know why. One nifty tool on the Zaar is the ability to change the size of the recipe. The original recipe made 3 loaves and, pumpkin shortage crisis notwithstanding, I didn't have enough to make 3 whole loaves. So I adjusted the recipe to make only 1 loaf. Because of that I don't think there was enough of the "pumpkin spices" (cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg) in the reduced size recipe to make the bread taste super super pumpkin pie-y, which I was expecting.

The Zaar also lets you view the nutrition facts of all their recipes. This information I usually ignore. Useful tool, though, if you care about silly, vapid things like fitting through doorways and premature death.

All in all the Pumpkin Chocolate Loaf is a tasty carbonanza that stinks up your house real nice and pretty. I will make it again one cold winters night, and add more spices, but I've got to get my hands on more canned pumpkin first!

United Airlines FAIL

2010-01-09T21:22:00.004+01:00

Attention United Airlines:

As you may or may not know, there are 365 days in a typical, non-leap year. 2010 is one of those years.

So why, according to you, does March end (31) on a Wednesday and April begin (1) on a Friday? What happened to Thursday, United? What happened to Thursday?!

Proof:

(Click to enlarge)

Bad attempt at an early April Fools joke, perhaps?

Regardless, you are in a world of hurt when people book flights for the completely wrong day/date, which is going happen for 3/4 of the entire year. And every single year after this one.

And you wonder why your industry is in the crapper.

Go shorty, it's yo birfday

2009-12-04T23:01:00.003+01:00

Today I turn the big 2-7, an age at which it is not completely unreasonable to buy a house, get married and/or hatch offspring. Will I be doing any of these in the near future? Absolutely not, but the point is I could if I wanted to.

Since I am physically unable to make a post that's only text here is, hands down, the best birthday song in the whole wide world:

I, too, hope I get better than my heart desires and my first kiss from a boy. :)

Bravely I step towards my 3rd decade on this planet. So long, mid-20's. Hello upper 20's!

Totally Looks Like

2009-11-30T21:54:00.006+01:00

I super love the blog Totally Looks Like, a blog that shows celebrities/inanimate objects/cartoon characters/etc. that totally look like one another. I'd like to submit one of my own:

Flava Flav totally looks like................

...............................a gremlin

The Netherlands - Favorite Pic

2009-11-30T21:33:00.004+01:00

There aren't many healthful, wholesome activities to do in Amsterdam. Jogging? Cobblestones are death to your ankles. Biking? Asking for a traffic accident. Not altering your conscienceness? Lame.

So what better way to piss away an afternoon than seeing how beer is made at the Heineken Experience? When it's raining cats and dogs any indoor activity sounds attractive. One that gives you beer with the price of admission - even moreso.

Included in your admission price ($22.50 USD by the way, wildly overpriced) you get access to this fancy little kiosk that lets you take pictures or videos and email them to people. For free! Tourist crap like this is never free! So, I call SCORE, and best pic of the trip.

I like this picture because because for ONCE Martin's not holding the camera himself and concentrating so hard on focusing it that a few chromsomes fall out his butt. He looks cute and nerdy. Just the way I like him.

Plus, there's a windmill, and I can pull off ruffles. That's a double SCORE!

Memory Lane Monday #10

2009-11-30T20:15:00.004+01:00

I'm going to divert from my regular MLM format and treat you to a little something that, while still musical, is really a trip down late night TV memory lane (only THE BEST KIND EVER).

Blu Blockers rap by MC Dr. Geek

TELL ME I am not the only one who remembers this infomercial from the 90's! There are several things awesome about this video:

1) A sweet rap
2) A phat pair of specs
3) The uncertainty if this was planned in advance or if it's true free style
4) That boombox (or is it boom box?)
5) That HAT!

Coincidence much?

I think not.

I can't seem to find a date on this video. My best guess would be 1994. Originally I was surprised that THIS was the best tactic they could come up with to sell sunglasses on late night TV (a crappy venue in itself, were there no Sunglass Huts 15 years ago?). In 1994 Nelson Mandela became the president of South Africa (the good), Tonya Harding went on a knee bashing spree (the bad), and Michael Jackson married a chick (the ugly). Times were not as they are today. They were cookier than Cocoa Puffs. And that's not even mentioning OJ "Murder McMurderson" Simpson.

Was this guy actually walking down Venice Beach looking like that? Seriously? Pauly Shore dressed more appropriately than this, and he worse ass-less chaps!

Memory Lane Monday #9

2009-11-23T21:43:00.005+01:00

It's been a while for the MLM, hasn't it? An embaressing while - sorry about that, my bad. But I have plenty of new inspiration from the most exciting thing to hit my life in months (years?):

I can't really put into words how I feel about this Fox (funny Fox, not dipshit psycho Fox - there's a big diff) show. It's like my-hatred-of-the-world meets a musical. And need I repeat my wish for my life to turn into an around the clock musical? I think not.

Plus, in true Hollywood style of "25 year old teenagers and 35-year old parents" (direct Jack McFarland quote) I have found the love of my life:

I'd let this Canadian man child teen impregnant me any day, even though I'm well past the possibility of that happening (as is he).

Glee is not all delightful snark and singing, though. Glee has had me crying like a b!tch on more than one occasion (ususally wine fueled, I must admit). Particularly when Kurt (I LOVE KURT) came out of the closet to his rough-and-tough single dad and Sue visited her sister with Downs Syndrome.

Holy, am I off track here. This reads more like a love letter to Glee than a proper MLM. Let's get to the tunes, the most recently aired song on my fave show ever:

"Lean on Me" by Club Nouveau

Love. This. Song. I was thrilled to hear it on Glee (even though I am so over the story line it centers around). I'd like to dedicate this song to my guuuurl Sara "Chuckles" Cook. Holla atcha boy, girl. Make sure that fridge is strapped in nice and tight. (Apologies for the inside joke)

One last Glee-related note: Does anybody else recognize Kurt's dad, Mike O'Malley, from the old Nickelodean show Guts? Because I totally do. And that makes me awesome.

Spain - Favorite Pic

2009-11-23T21:03:00.004+01:00

If you ever have a week to kill in Spain and you're a native English speaker, do I have the job for you: Pueblo Ingles.

Pueblo Ingles is a program where 20 native English speakers (called Anglos) and 20 Spaniards (called, um, Spaniards) get together for 1 week of sweet, unadulterated English speakin'.

Spaniards, as a whole, speak much less English than the Norway folk. So in order to improve their skills they are mercilessly isolated together with people who don't speak Spanish so they're forced to rely on English. Or as I like to call it, the greatest language in the world whybotherlearninganythingelse?

The best part for me was all the (admittedly shitty) red wine you could drink. For free. Starting at 2 p.m. Whoever said wine was the "classy" beverage choice ain't never seen me pour 2.5 bottles down my throat - over lunch.

Nay, the best part was meeting new people - I did this entirely on my own - drinking and "having a laugh". I picked up a lot of British terminology there. I love those Brits! But I will save my love letter to them for another day.

And, God love my frugal ways, the entire week was free. Crappy wine (red only) and all. I just had to get myself from Point A (currently Norway) to Madrid and house myself there for 2 nights. I highly recommend you look into this program if you're serious about chilling for a week for free in the gorgeous Spanish countryside, and meeting some seriously awesome people.

Now on to my favorite picture. The location of my program was a few minutes walk from the village of La Alberca in the region of Salamanca. We took a day trip into town to see the sights and, like, learn stuff and stuff. This is one of the things we learned about:

This big, smelly-ass pig lives on the streets of the town! And it lives off the generosity of the townspeople to feed it. At the end of the year, back in the day, they would give it to the poorest family in town. Nowadays they raffle it off, as I don't suppose any family would be too keen on being dubbed "the poorest in town".

When I said "smelly-ass" I was not being facetious, nor trying to be funny or cute. He smelled. His ass smelled. To be literal, as my adorable new British friend said upon seeing the copious amounts of feces caked to his backside, "he shat himself!".

......and I'm back

2009-11-23T20:31:00.003+01:00

So...awkward pause...watcha been up to the past 16 weeks? Not blogging? What a concidence, me too! Let's skip the excuses, I will just break it down to a quick 3-part explination:

1. Start of school year, busiest work time of year
2. Grandmother died, surprise trip to USA only 6 weeks after last visit
3. Got lazy

Now we're nearly at Thanksgving break and I'm just now getting off my lazy arse and back into blogging. I hope you have found alternate means of self deprecating entertainment in my absence.

USA - Favorite Pic

2009-08-05T00:01:00.003+02:00

Quite possibly the classiest picture in the whole bunch, I present to you my favorite photo from my recent visit home. It shall be titled The Essence of a State Fair. I didn't realize how perfect this picture is, in that it says "A State Fair" in the background. Perfection.

I am an unabashed lover of the North Dakota State Fair. The deep fried foods, the real lemonade, the stench of farm animals (which doesn't really bother me), the fat ladies in tube tops. I love it all. Love it! I've only missed 2 years of the fair in my whole life, if memory serves me correct, once when I was 15 and last year. I grew up there.

The highlight for me (can coozies aside) was "people watching bingo", where you crossed off a square whenever you found someone/something they had listed. For example:

-Someone with a mullet (variations such as she-mullet and mexi-mullet accepted)
-Camel toe and/or moose knuckle
-Horribly obese child eating
-Fat white mom with black baby
-Carnie missing 1 or more fingers (this was surprisingly difficult to find; they might as well rename the Free square 'carnie missing 1 or more teeth')

And the list goes on. I can wait while you go rinse out your mouth after throwing up in your mouth a little.

You're back? Ok, good. Despite the horrors I saw I did win 1 out of 2 games. And saw a lot of super classy North Dakotans. Love the NDSF - it's beyond compare!

Social Studies Lesson

2009-08-04T20:23:00.002+02:00

Since 90% of what I do on this blog is yap about Norway I thought I'd give y'all a little background on the place with a professional Social Studies lesson:

Tilbake i Norge

2009-08-01T02:18:00.005+02:00

For all you mono-linguals out there -since I'm sooo super fluent - you wll be happy to learn I am back in the motherland. Motherland of lefse and lutefisk, but tragically not uff da tacos (also known as indian tacos, see Appendix 1). It took a lot of effort to get through my binge eating tour of the upper Midwest but by golly with my strong American work ethic I made that happen.

Awkward segue: Speaking of work ethics, I heard a super disturbing statistic on NPR about aforementioned motherland. 11% of the working age population is out on disability. Eleven percent. Why can't I get my MSN "WTF face" on here? I'll have to visualize it for you. Here, it's something like this:

11% is a lot, yo. So who's actually working to pay the taxes to fund these leisurely adulthoods and year long maternity leaves? I don't really feel like I'm being taxed up the proverbial wazoo, maybe because all taxes paid are "out of sight, out of mind" to me. Imagine there are 89 workers in Norway to support 11 people "on disability". (I am using that term very lightly, as we all know 80% + are absolute B.S.) Not to mention those 89 people support the pension system, and universal health care, the super fabulous train system (note: sarcasm) and all the other seriously kick ass social perks of living in Norway. 'Tis interesting.

I should mention I have zero idea what percentage of the working age American population is out on disability. Even with the sheer difference in size (350 mil vs. 4.5 mil) I bet it ain't no 11%.

I should make a shout out to my lover National Public Radio for bringing me this statistic. Love them. Pink puffy heart love them, and a side shout out to Minnesota Public Radio for being awesome and being in awesome Minnesota. If you're interested here's the story I got this from:

http://www.npr.org/templates/player/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=111192127&m=111273270

And major props to Norway for saving/investing their oil money instead of blowing it when it was first discovered. Had America discovered such riches in the 60's you know it'd all have been spent on hookers and blow by now. My American brethren can learn from you, my norse friends. But the ramifications ("oil-for-leisure program") might be biting the ass of an entire generation who have never wanted for anything. 'Tis another interesting thought.

Appendix 1:
Aliases:
Uff da taco
Indian taco
Fry bread taco
Taco especial

What Happened Here?

2009-07-05T21:30:00.004+02:00

Did I...

A. Decide to end it all but chicken out many, many times?

B. Get attacked by a rabid pack of puny cats?

C. Have an unpleasant end to a rock cliff-to-boat transition?

Super Freaky - Update

2009-06-30T18:37:00.004+02:00

Unsolved Mysteries has been on TV a lot lately and, while scaring the bejesus out of me, my favorite favorite favorite episodes are the ones with updates where years later they solve the mystery. So Robert Stack's monotone voice has convinced me to offer you an update on my mother's super creepy head cut-out.

As I suspected it came from my mom's retirement party. When I was talking to my dad on the phone for Old Man's Day I inquired about it and he had totally forgotten that he sent it. When I described it enough for him to remember sent me the horrifying explanation of where it came from:

T-shirts were made and corresponding head photos were placed atop the shirts, ever so fashionably. From left to right: Mrs. Abrahamson ("Mrs. Abey-canabey" - love that woman!), my ma, Mrs. Longtin, Mrs. Lacoste and Mrs. Patton.

Only in my nightmares can I imagine what happened to the 4 other heads. Can I just say, for all you Walhalla people out there, what I would give to own that Mrs. Lacoste head?! That woman has been scaring the pants off children since literally the 1940's. Perhaps we could line her chicken coops with it? She might like that.

I have decided how to dispose of my head. I'm bringing it back home to mommy and letting her get rid of it. Dad said she had it in the garbage before he retrieved it and, uhh, "gifted" it to me. So I'll let her do the dirty deed and wash my hands of it!

Parenting - Am I Ready?

2009-06-30T18:31:00.002+02:00

Every fiber of my being screams "Sweet mother of Christ, NO!" but this little fella...

...makes me wonder.

Memory Lane Monday #8

2009-06-30T17:53:00.004+02:00

Nobody will notice this wasn't done on Monday, right? But it's harder to conceal the fact that I haven't done a MLM in a super long time. I think with the recent sad events an MJ MLM is inevitable. With no introduction needed, I bring you this weeks selection:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyBs6-cmFvQ

Black or White by Michael Jackson

(Sorry I've only got a link for you. Some asshat has gone and disabled all the embed codes for all Michael Jackson videos.)

The beginning of this video is cut off, as it doesn't show the Cheers guy screaming at Macaulay Culkin to "turn that racket down". This video is star studded! More on that in a minute...

This is the first Michael Jackson song I ever remember hearing. I didn't have older siblings to show me the way and my parents weren't big into popular music, so I had to stumble onto Michael on my own time. Coming from Wonder Bread-white North Dakota this was a bit of a cultural experience for me. Africans! Indians (dot and feather)! Russians! Oh my.

I really love the part of the song where Macaulay Culkin raps about racial equality. It's dripping with early 90's bad taste and, coupled with the urban backdrop, reminds me of the highlight of my youth: Ghostwriter. Am I right?

WORD.

Another favorite of mine is how a fat Asian dude turns into Tyra Banks. Do you think when Michael cast this video he knew the pretty little runway model would turn into the world's biggest egocentric, inflated-sense-of-self bizzo the world has ever seen?

Yikes. That rabid ego (and super shitty/random favorite playing) turned me off of my beloved ANTM.

In closing, the world has lost a fine musician. Sure, he was, shall we say, eccentric, but being different never impeded anyones ability to kick ass. If you were forced into stardom at the age of 6 you'd be strange, too, I'm willing to bet. I'm just mad I'll never get to go to one of his concerts. I am not a concert goer but that's one of the very, very few I'd attend, much less pay for. My opportunity is now gone. :(

And Mr. Jackson's rags-to-riches story is the reason I so dearly love my homeland of USA. Where else could a poor black boy grow up to be a rich white woman?

Ziiiiiiiiiing!

Go Away!

2009-06-23T20:25:00.003+02:00

I bet I'm one of the few non-albino people on Earth who really dislikes the sun. What has it ever done for mankind? Give us skin cancer, get in our eyes when we're driving, make us sweaty, the list could go on. I'll casually ignore the fact that its existence allows us to live on this planet and state a widely held human belief: The sun has no business being up at 3 a.m. Yet here in the "land of the midnight sun" it's visible pretty much 24 hours per day at this time of year...which I give two thumbs down!

This photo was taken about midnight. I speak on behalf of sleep lovers the world over, please Mr. Sun, just go away between the hours of 11 p.m. and 6 a.m. and let my natural sleep cycle go unmolested by your always-in-your-face presence.

Super Freaky

2009-06-12T18:13:00.005+02:00

Warning: What I'm about to show you is seriously disturbing and may not be appropriate for all audiences. I'm warning you. It's pretty disturbing.

It is a life sized cut out of a close-up of my mothers face. Let me repeat that: a life sized cut out of a close-up of my mothers face. What. The. Hell.

My dad sent me my monthly stack of Walhalla Mountaineers and in between the papers was this seriously creepy life sized cut out of a close-up of my mothers face! In broad daylight it freaked me the hell out.

I was home alone at the time (adding to the creepy-ness) so I thought to myself, "hmm, how best to show Martin the new portrait of my mom?" And an evil idea popped into my head...

Behold, what Martin woke up to this morning (sans glasses):

Shower ConBon! I knew this would freak him out, as it did to me! I was expecting him to scream but he kept his hair-whitening fear silent. But it did scare him, as evidenced by the note he left on the back of it:

Hahahaha!
Very funny.
I almost shit my shorts!
-Love you

It's pretty big of him to still love me after that (hilarious, I might add) stunt I pulled on him. Imagine finding this thing in the shower (a very vulnerable place, as Psycho taught us) mere seconds after you've woken up?! *shutter*

This thing seriously gives me the heebie jeebies and I don't know why. I'm guessing my dad got it from a display at my mom's retirement party. And for some reason thought I needed it.

But what do I do with it? I can't throw it away...it's my mother for crying out loud! I'm taking suggestions of what should be done with the ConBon close-up. Ehh...donate it to charity, maybe?

May The Force Be With You

2009-06-12T17:50:00.002+02:00

I've always thought my absolute #1 dream job would be a regular cast member on Saturday Night Live. But after rewatching this for roughly the 40th time I'm amending that a little. I desperately want to be an "insult comic", like this little mutt Triumph.

I have been an avid (rabid?) Conan fan since about 1997. Like, publicly-celebrating-his-birthday rabid. Yikes. So I remember seeing this tasty gem when it first broadcast in the early 00's, and am proud to admit I rewatch it a few times per year just to keep the magic alive. It is that good.

If you have never seen this before shame on you. Here is the greatest Conan sketch (possibly the greatest few minutes of TV) of all time in 2 parts:

Here are a few of my favorite tidbits from that sketch:

"These are lonely men, who have never had sex. Not even with a Catholic priest."

"What are the Jedi knight principles?" *hears responses* "And to eat a lot of peanut M&M's"

To pregnant woman: "Wow. That's the last time he'll ever see female genitalia."

And tied for my favorite:

Spoken to the Lord of the Ring nerd, Blackworth the Drrragon Master, "And don't you forget to finish your Filet-o-Fish."

Spoken to Darth Vader himself, "Which of these buttons calls your parents to pick you up?"

There aren't even words for how freaking hilarious that was. Conan, I bow down before thee. If you're ever in the market for an insult comic, please, hire me!

Berlin, Germany - Favorite Pic

2009-06-04T21:11:00.003+02:00

I'm no history buff but I know important monuments when I see them. This is me with the teeny tiny part of what's still standing of the Berlin Wall. Can you believe people would get shot for trying to cross this wall and get out of the Commie infested east side of Berlin? My motto: The hallmark of a crappy place is when they shoot you if you try to leave. That is a level of suck unknown to most Americans. Thankfully!

Not going to lie, I like this pic so much because I look pretty skinny (by my standards) in it. Ladies, regardless of your size, skinny jeans are your friend. Love them!

To sum up Berlin in 4 words: Texans, Humid, Technologically Unadvanced. Not sure if unadvanced is even a word (my word making up has increased 100-fold in the past few weeks) but it's fitting here. I'm glad I went, though. This place was ground zero during WWII (well, besides Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but I'm not being literal). So much history!

Eurovision Song Contest

2009-05-17T20:59:00.003+02:00

Here's a tasty little tidbit that Americans are seriously getting shafted by missing: The Eurovision Song Contest. Country vs. country going head to head via song and dance. Loving it!

Last night was the finale, and up until then I was a Eurovision virgin. And I must be a good luck charm, because last night Norway won (woot woot)! You know when you're a kid (oh hell, to this day even) when your state makes it into the top 10 at the Miss America pagent? Well, Eurovision feels kind of like that. Except the people voting for the winner aren't washed up pseudo celebrities, they are your competition (the other countries)!

In honor of my new yearly ritual, I will count the top 4 best and worst songs in the finale. There were 25 total. And picking 5 of each wasy far too much work for my sloth self. Let's start with best (starting at numero uno):

#1 Norway

Yes, I'm biased. But myself and every other country in Europe (plus a few random ones in the Middle East) cannot be wrong. Alexander Rybak is adorable! And he can play the fiddle! Winner winner chicken dinner.

#2 Malta

Can anybody even tell me where Malta freaking is? Because I have no idea. But homegirl can sing! And homegirl has got meat on her bones, which is refreshing to see. She's got such a voice, and this song totally could be on the next Disney soundtrack. Do they even do that anymore what with Pixar taking over the world?

#3 Iceland

Again, I'm biased. I have Icelandic heritage and I feel so bad for the Icelandic people and their toilet-esque economy. Also the winner of the contest gets to host next years competition, and I know Iceland could use every tourist nickle they can get. But this girl can sing and picked a beautiful song. I vote her and Alexander Rybak get together and make beautiful Nordic babies. Hot hot hot!

#4 Estonia

I think rule #1 of Eurovision is to, as I say on an almost daily basis, speak freaking English. Yes, you've got a nifty language of your very own and you're proud of it. But 98.9% of the world can't understand a word you say! And I think that's what screwed poor Estonia. This song is haunting yet funky and seriously cool...but it's in Estonian. Raise your hand if you understand Estonian. Exactly.

We've seen the good, now let's move on to the bad and the ugly all rolled up into one. I realize Eurovision is a celebration of Euro-camp and flamboyant show off-ery but my God, people, have some dignity. These songs would make me ashamed to live in your country! Maybe even visit. I might cross these off my list of places to go before I die, just to punish them for making me listen to their craptacular music. In order from 4th suckiest to 1st suckiest we start with:

#4 Romania

No, sister, you like to suck like nobody. Repetative, silly Tinkerbell costumes, all around terrible. And thanks for the repeated near crotch flashes. More on those later.

#3 Greece

So I knew Greece doesn't always have the highest standards but umm, what is up with this guy?! The song itself could be worse, it's really a non-entity for me, but I think we have found the first male nip slip in the history of nudity. I want to know where Greece found this over-Botoxed, tanning-bed-living-in freak. He's icky.

#2 Turkey

Warning: This is not PG rated. There is near cooter shots every other second on this one. Not to mention the "tuk tuk tuk" pelvis thrusts. Correct me if I'm wrong but many women in Turkey wear traditional Muslim coverings, right? I'm as liberal as they come and this makes me blush. I bet this video was banned as porn in half the countries of the world. If not they should ban it for sucking.

#1 Finland

I can only sum this song up with a loud and clear "WTF". Apparently old Finnish white dude needs to be told that the Eminem look can't be pulled off by...old Finnish white dudes. There are burning garbage cans, there are 1980's hookers, there are flaming batons. Everything about this song is an absolute, vomit inducing, smeared-on-the-walls disaster.

So there you have the best and worst of Eurovision 2009. Since Norway won this year (we're #1! we're #1! we're #1!) we get to host it next year. And I will do anything to get my hands on tickets to the finale!

I Want That!

2009-05-16T19:44:00.004+02:00

Tomorrow is the 17th of May, Norway's version of 4th of July (kind of). At the very least it's the day when everybody is patriotic and uber proud to be Norwegian.

I have 2 beefs with this years celebration:

1) It is on a Sunday this year. No day off work or Norwegian class. BOO!

2) I do not have one of these:

This is a bunad. And it is pimp. They're really old timey and traditional but so, so beautiful. And expensive. People wear bunads at dressy events like weddings, Christmas or on the 17th of May. So I feel like a fish out of water without one of these things!

The cool thing about them is each county in Norway has their own. So you get the bunad design where you come from. Some, in my humble opinion, scream working class. But others are really beautiful, with embroidery and silver jewelry. I especially love the male ones:

How freaking cool are those socks?! And that hat. Love!

Since I'm not really from Norway (*ahem* proud to be an American *ahem*) I see a few options for bunad purchasing in my future, if I so choose to. I could get an Østfold one, which is where I live now. Or an Oslo one, where Martin was born. Or I could put on my genealogical researching panties and figure out where my ancestors came from (but 2 of 4 grandparents families came from Norway -which to choose?).

We're going to Oslo tomorrow to see the royal family (who I am, for the record, highly unimpressed with) and enjoy the national day in the capital city. I've got to sit out of the bunad wearing this year :( but next year, who knows! Maybe I'll spend several thousand dollars on an outfit that is worn a few times per year!

P.S. I will post pics of the billions of beautiful bunads floating around Oslo!

Which Sucks Less #1

2009-05-12T20:44:00.005+02:00

Memory Lane Monday is starting to feel like a chore every week and I don't want it to turn into that. I'll save that sort of do-I-have-to?! miserable drudgery for marriage and parenting. In the meantime I want to spice things up a bit for myself and for your enjoyment.

People often say I have nothing but bad things to say about Norway. What these people don't realize is that I have nothing but bad things to say about everything. So they don't know me very well. I have lots of stuff - good and bad - to say about both America and Norway.

So I'm going to start a little segment I like to call Which Sucks Less? which compares the good old US of A with Norway to see which country sucks less, and is worthy of my presence for the next, give or take, 65 years. In practice this will be a segment where I rave about things that are vastly superior in one country over the other.

Which Sucks Less #1 - Hotel Breakfasts

Winner: Norway (and Scandinavia in general)

I have one word for you people - meatballs. Meatballs on a breakfast buffet! I have found my people. I have enjoyed hotel breakfast buffets in Norway, Sweden and Denmark and let me tell you, included in the price of your room is absolute heaven. We're talking quiche, excellent bread, cheese and jam (fabulous trio combo, for my American friends who have never heard of it), and meatballs, people! You wouldn't think they're great breakfast food but take it from somebody who knows food: meatballs for breakfast are absolute heaven.

Here's one small fraction of what you will get on your breakfast buffet if you visit Scandinavia:

And I mean just a fraction. Replace all that fruit with meatballs and sausages. That's a taste of Scandinavia right there. Kjempe digg, if I do say so myself.

One note, though: Norway could do with a lesson in muffin making. Hey, this place ain't perfect. Which is what I hope to illustrate with my new segment. No matter where I live there are ups and there are downs. There are yays and nays. But in the end, one must suck less!

Norway: 1
America: 0

Memory Lane Monday #8

2009-05-05T17:10:00.000+02:00

MLM has morphed into MLT due to my obscene laziness. Apologies. But I think this one is worth the wait.

Today is Cinco de Mayo, when Mexicans the world over celebrate something or another, and Americans, um, America over feel it's appropriate to get blitzed even though they haven't a drop of Mexican blood in them.

So Cinco de Mayo got me thinking about Mexico and Mexicans and women who look 20 when they are 40 (they do not age - I swear!) and the Spanish language. Which brings me to my song:

"Macarena" by Los del Río

Oh the times I had dancing to this in junior high! And oh the lyrics I did not understand! I'm convinced this started as 2 songs, one with the pretty girls dancing and singing in English and another with these old dudes singing in Spanish. Put them together, though, and it is mid-90's magic!

A quick Wiki search tells me this song was first recorded in 1992, way before I was of junior high rug cutting age. So clearly it had a (much deserved) long shelf life. For future reference: Playing this at a prom is acceptable; a wedding dance is not.

So tonight I dine on tacos in honor of USA's swine flu-inventing neighbors to the south, Me-he-co, while listening to what might just be the greatest one hit wonder of all time. Until next time I bid you adiós!

P.S. Shout out to Mrs. Bata, my Pierce Brosnan-lovin' high school Spanish teacher, whose efforts on me have entirely been wasted by my studying Norwegian, a language .00000001% as useful to know. Seriously, I had to really think what "goodbye" in Spanish was!

Weird Business

2009-04-29T23:36:00.000+02:00

Remind me to stay out of the furniture business. The commercials are...unsettling. Which is weirder?

Option A:

Option B:

A is catchier, I'll give it that, but B does so much for race relations in America ("And Hispanic people, too!").

Let's get a little poll going. Provided you couldn't make it on to Price is Right to score yourself a free dinette set where would you rather buy one for yourself? Flea Market Montgomery or The Red House?

Memory Lane Monday #7

2009-04-27T21:37:00.000+02:00

So this is a total cop out, I admit it, but I've been making up for lost time by blogging like a maniac and my creativity is pretty much dried up. I think this MLM would be appropriate anywhere, anytime, and I don't feel bad that I just posted this song a few days ago:

Theme song to The Golden Girls

Come to think of it I have no idea who sings this song. Whoever it is, I hope they earned a Grammy for it. And an Emmy and Oscar and Cable Ace award and whatever the bloody hell else awards are given nowadays.

Here is the description of the video from YouTube, which I found accurate and amusing:

About an old sicialian, a high school english teacher, a nieve, and a slut live together as roomates in a house in Miami Flordia. Starring Bea Arthur, Betty White, Rue McClanahan, and Estelle Getty.

Oh Blanche, you will always known as The Slutty One to the world. I wonder if the actress, Rue McClanahan, gets stopped on the street today - she is 75 years old - and people say "Oh I loved you - you were such a slut!" She must be so satisfied with how her career turned out.

Like I said before, this is hands down the best TV show theme song I can think of. Can we think of any others that even come remotely close? The Fresh Prince of Bel Air is all I got...and that's light years behind the sweet, sweet Golden Girls. Now who wants cheesecake?

Copenhagen, Denmark - Favorite Pic

2009-04-27T21:13:00.000+02:00

Martin's 95-year-old great aunt, let me repeat that - ninety five years of age - decided she wanted to take me and Martin's mom to Copenhagen for the weekend. Ladies weekend, woot woot! And she wanted to drive the 6 hours each way it takes to get there (side note: the 95 year old wasn't the one driving).

Free trip to Copenhagen, you say? Count me in. Ninety-five year old woman who speaks zero English that I can only communicate with in Norwegian, you say? Oy...that's a little scarier.

But I am proud to report that I "am awesome" and "speak really good Norwegian" and the weekend went off without me swearing off the Norwegian language forever. Good confidence booster, too! :)

Take a look at this beautiful harbor pic. If you ever have to decide between visiting Oslo and visiting Copenhagen, for the love of God do yourself a favor and get thyself to Denmark!

USA - Favorite Pic

2009-04-27T20:56:00.001+02:00

Whenever I go somewhere I deem awesome I will add my single favorite picture here, with a little explanation of why it rules.

Here we go for my Easter business trip/vacation to Grand Forks, ND, USA. My trip included many a journey around ND and MN, and this particular pic was taken in my favorite hotel ever - the C'Mon Inn in Fargo, ND, USA.

2 things I want you to know about me: I love my cousin (closest thing to a bro I will ever get) and I love State Fairs, particularly North Dakota's, the only one I've ever been to. And increasingly I love the game Apples to Apples. And I love the hot tubs at C'Mon Inn and the Asti my family drinks out of plastic cups there. So this picture pretty much sums up all the best things in the world. Stuff I love.

Naughty Girl

2009-04-27T20:10:00.000+02:00

Not surprisingly by the name of this blog I found myself still at work at 5:30 p.m....exactly when my Norwegian class starts on Monday nights. I took it upon myself to declare it, uhh, a vacation day and went straight home.

I thought "if I'm already naughty by taking an (uhh...) vacation day from class why not add to the deviance and eat something totally unhealthy, totally heart stopping - totally American - for dinner"? And this is what I came up with:

Kraft mac & cheese! Kraft mac & cheese! Kraft mac & cheese! In my opinion totally worth the early grave it will surely put me in. The color is blinding! Gotta love it.

It's nothing short of a miracle (or testament to my terrible memory) that I haven't yet eaten a bag since I've been back over the past 2 weeks. Note I say "bag", not box. Here is a clever tidbit of advice given to me by my boss, who has been subsisting on Norwegian variety with an American pallet for the past 2 decades: save your luggage weight and space by smuggling only the cheese packet. The macaroni is easily and cheaply available in Norway.

A huge bag of macaroni cost me 13 kroner (under $2) and didn't cost me so much as an ounce or inch of luggage allowance. The cheese packets were removed from full boxes of mac & cheese and left in the U.S. (Sara: enjoy). Just add a 1/4 cup of butter and 1/4 cup of milk (I think, I guessed those were the right amounts but wound up dumping about 1/4 of the butter I added). I have 11 servings left before my next American goods smuggling trip in July! Can they all be eaten by then?! Absolutely not...what kind of hog do you think I am?

Here is a shot of all my precious, precious loot:

That's a lot 'o mac & cheese [packets]!

As a believer in irony I should mention I sat down to eat this meal in front of the tube (of course) and Oprah was hosting overweight teens. Like, super overweight teens. Like, age 16 and weighs 375 pounds overweight. Yikes! So in their honor, and the sake of seeing my 50th birthday, I gladly trashed 1/4 (if not a little more) of the finished product. The other 3/4 was dumped...straight into my belly!

Thank You for Being a Friend, Bea

2009-04-26T16:14:00.001+02:00

I woke up to sad news today. Bea Arthur has died. :(

To put this mildly: Bea Arthur kicked ass. I know her mostly from her fine, fine work on The Golden Girls but she had a career long before I was even born.

How I do not own the boxed sets of Golden Girls yet I do not know. But I will one day for sure! In honor of Mrs. Dorothy (Petrillo) Zbornak Hollingsworth I present to you what I consider to be, without a doubt, the best opening credits song of any show, ever:

The world will always love you, Pussycat.

The Giver

2009-04-26T15:45:00.000+02:00

'Tis better to give than receive, isn't that how the saying goes? I have discovered something hidden deep inside me. Something terrifying. Something I'm scared to even admit. I'm as surprised as anyone: I really enjoy buying/wrapping baby gifts. And (if I may say so) I am good at it. Yikes!

Exhibit A:
Baby bottle tower. The paper is all that was available to me, so this could've been better than it turned out to be. But I still like it. This is 6 individually wrapped baby bottles, taped together to form a tower (or using a little imagination, a cake).

Exhibit B (full frontal view):

Gift card set. 3 envelopes: 1 for "mama bear", 1 for "papa bear" and 1 for "baby bear", a.k.a. big 'ol question mark (sex of baby unknown). These are tied together at the upper left hand corner with the orange ribbon but spread out for your viewing pleasure. Mama Bear's envelope contains a gift card to Victoria's Secret, Baby Bear's contains a gift card to Gymboree and Papa Bear's has a gift card to Happy Harry's, booze warehouse extraordinaire.

Here's the back view:

I have to get some props for my creativity so my name is in CAPS. Along with some straight-from-Dora-activity-book stickers. Don't you just love it?!

I did not actively seek (but totally wanted) to win title of "most creative gift" for Exhibit B and I did, according to Mr. & Mrs. Bear. Hooray for me!

An etiquette note: The bottles in Exhibit A came from the registry. The gift cards in Exhibit B I know are useful. I wouldn't dream of giving unnecessary/unusable/off-registry items. I am trying not to piss off the gift gods, lest I be stuck with hand crouched oven mitts or awkward religious wall hangings one day in the future.

I'm looking for a little ego stroking here. These are cute, no?

Memory Lane Monday #7

2009-04-20T21:37:00.001+02:00

Excuse the 2-week MLM absence. I've been in the U.S. so bugger off, as the Brits say. More on this related topic later.

So 10 years ago today Columbine happened. It's unfortunate that I say that word and you know exactly what I mean. I remember exactly where I was when I heard, and I remember watching the TV coverage of it. And being the selfish little prick that I am I can't help but think, "my God, it was ten years ago that I was a sophomore in high school". So to lighten the mood I took a gander at the Billboard Hot 100 to see what tickles my fancy from that terrible day, a whole decade ago, and I came up with this:

"...Baby One More Time" by Britney Spears

Oh, yes, the irony of it all. Ten years ago I hated this song and I hated this girl. But I shan't tell a lie in my old age; the tune is catchy!

I also get a smile at the days of yore when Brit-Brit (as I've come to call her) was fit and trim the old fashioned way: Through back breaking workouts forced upon her by overzealous parents. Even though people say today she's "back" (which I do not believe for a second) we all know that girl is a jar of mayonnaise and a missed lipo appointment from going back to the trailer park where she's been residing this past half decade.

But back in 1999 she was fresh and 16 and just oozing with that jail bait je ne se qua. Note the subtle but meaningful boobie shake at 0:53. You can almost see American youth culture instantaneously crumble into nothingness, gone and lost forever. Thanks, Brit-Brit!

As I reflect on what I have done with myself since April 20, 1999 (hint: some pretty baller stuff) ask yourselves this: How was I, a mere mortal, able to resist the Snoop Dog classic "Smoke Weed Everyday" as my MLM? The world is a cruel place. We may never know.

Memory Lane Monday #6

2009-03-30T20:53:00.001+02:00

I am nothing if not a sucker for nostalgia. With 11 hours until I get on the airport bus and 15 hours until departure to my fave homeland I present to you:

Born in the USA by Bruce Springsteen

Last weeks MLM was irritating, nobody can deny that, but am I the only American who thinks this song is about 6 minutes too long? On and on and on, the same thing over and over. Especially when he's letting the audience sing the chorus! Alright, Bruce, you're American. We get it. Now STFU. Do I have to give up my passport now that I've said that?

And am I the only one who thinks performing this song in East Berlin is like baking the worlds largest pie in a Sudanese refugee camp? And then not letting them eat it? It's like "Hey, oppressed people, let me rub in your faces how free I am and how great my democratic homeland is. Enjoy your stale bread crust rations while I drone on and on and on about where I was born. Freedom, freedom, freedom." Come on, Bruce, show some respect.

To sum it all up I, like Bruce, was born in the USA. I am ever so happy to be heading back for a visit these next 2 weeks! I just need Mother Nature to take a look at my karmic record and treat me appropriately. I need to get where I'm going on schedule! Please, please, pleeeeeease, Mama Nature!

Strayed From the Flock

2009-03-29T20:29:00.000+02:00

My last few blog posts have been Debbie Downers so let's liven things up with this tasty image:

www.churchsigngenerator.com, use and abuse it as much as I am!

And yes, I know I'm going straight to hell. But that's cool, that's where all my friends will be!

Fargo/Moorhead SOS

2009-03-25T22:48:00.000+01:00

Anybody reading this who can actually help will no doubt know this by now, but: If you are anywhere near Fargo, ND or Moorhead, MN get thyself there immediately and help fight the impending flood. It's blizzarding now, which can only make matters worse. And keeping people from getting there to help. BOO, Mother Nature you evil biz-natch!

I'm dying to help in any way I can. If you have any ideas about how I can help from a huge distance let me know! I'll be there in 2 weeks; hopefully there won't be much damage to be cleaned up!

P.S. Check out the national news coverage ND is getting:

CNN
http://us.cnn.com/2009/US/weather/03/25/north.dakota.flooding/index.html

MSNBC
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29873706/

I will never cease to get a kick out of seeing North Dakota in the national news. Never!

I didn't realize Bismarck was getting it so bad. I'm rooting for them, too, I just have zero emotional attachment to the place since I've been there I think a total of 4 times in my life. To sum it all up:

I love you, ND! To quote a wise man, "Don't you go dyin' on me!"

Memory Lane Monday #5

2009-03-23T23:40:00.000+01:00

This is the most nerve-grinding, nails-on-a-chalkboard annoying MLM to date but I feel it's necessary:

Le Freak by Chic

Why? Why in God's name you might ask I choose such a crap-tacular song for my one precious weekly song? It's for the same reason anybody in America does anything, really. Because I've got a political soapbox to get on and holler from!

Background story on this song. Several years ago, I'd guess about 5, my baby sister Jenna and I were shopping at the Old Navy in Fargo when this song came on. You might be asking yourself what we classy ladies were doing at Old freaking Navy but I must remind you I was 21 (give or take) at the time and Jenna was pretty much a zygote.

Anyways, this song came on and we could have swore that the song says "Awww....FREAK OUT....something something....say shit". To which we replied "How can one say 'say shit' at Old Navy?!" But after looking up the lyrics (yes, to this day I still kind of thought they said 'say shit' but knew it could not be so) they in fact say "Awww....FREAK OUT....Le Freak...C'est Chic" as if that makes a damn bit of sense. I don't speak freaky deaky French.

Now: My afformentioned political soapbox. The same little sister who was but a sperm fertilized egg half a decade ago (hyperbole, much?) is now all grown up, and driving pickup trucks like the good little cowgirl she is. And today she crashed that pickup truck, and rolled it two times. And she was wearing her seatbelt. Ergo, the worst she got was 4 stitches in her lip.

In 2004, the most recent year in which my lazy self could find statistics, there were 42,636 road deaths in the USA. Care to guess how many of those were because of non-use of seatbelts? I have no idea. I'm not going to look that up. But my barely-educated guess would be A Shit Load.

So the moral of the story here is wear your seatbelt. You'd be absolutely stupid not to. It seems like every single week I read an article in the newspaper about somebody under 30 (under 25 or 20 even) who is killed in a car crash. And the writers, bless their souls, go to great lengths to say ominously "he was not wearing a seatbelt". And yet people still don't learn! It blows the mind.

Bottom line: Wear your seatbelt = live. Don't wear your seatbelt = die. It's your choice. I'm glad my little sis, at just shy of 20, made the choice to live. I knew I didn't change those diapers for nothing! Love ya, squaw baby.

Afterthought: It would have been totes appropriate to have Joe Diffie's fabulous tune Pickup Man as my MLM #5 song, especially since Jenna's the biggest country bumpkin I know, but I thought I would annoy the crap out of you all with this say shit song. I could only make it through half. Anybody who makes it start to finish deserves a medal!

Afterthought #2: I was writing "will post pic of pickup when I get it" and wham, James sent it along. Feast your eyes on this next time you say "meh, I don't need to wear my seatbelt":

I'd say 4 stitches is a pretty small price to pay for taking a dirt bath in this big red beaut.

Seatbelts save lives! And I'm out.

Lost: Reward if Found

2009-03-20T20:32:00.000+01:00

I don't know if I've ever been so mad at myself. I lost my favorite jacket ever. No, not lost, just "temporarily misplaced". I have this strange feeling that one day it's going to come back to me . And I'm going to feel like a jackass for misplacing it for so long, in a location I cannot recall.

This is the only known picture of said jacket, and it's not the best shot of it:

The pic: So classy it kind of brings a tear to your eye, doesn't it?

I loved that jacket. I (ahem, Martin) bought it last spring when I didn't have my visa so we had only one income and we were so poor we could barely afford to freaking eat much less buy a spring jacket. But we got me the jacket (and scarf, also shown, which I equally love. I'd die if that disappeared, too) and it made me really, really happy. And now it's gone. Sad face. :(

With my upcoming USA trip I needed a decent, dark jacket so I had to go buy another one. Same price, loved half as much. Boo! Here's similar to what I got (not exact):

I got it in black but you can see the detail better on this color. Additionally, my old one was a navy blue color, so much preferred over black but I figured since this is Round 2 I better go for function over style. My old one made me look super slim and this one makes me look hippy, which is the one thing I am not.

I realize it's petty and ridiculous to bitch and moan over a lost jacket but that jacket was the first decent thing I got in a really, really long time after moving here. It made me feel like an actual grown-up human being who doesn't have to get married just for the rice. Bottom line: That jacket made me happy during a super shitty time. And I want her (she's no longer an it) back!

If you see my beloved misplaced baby you bring her back home to me. Like I said I know she's going to come back to me one day, I just hope it's not 50 pounds from now (she's pretty snug the way it is). $20 (100 kr) reward to whoever brings my baby back home!

Memory Lane Monday #4

2009-03-16T22:32:00.001+01:00

Beware, folks, this one is a creepy one. Growing up in BF Nowhere, ND we did not have MTV until I was gone off to college. We did, however, have VH1 and trust me when I say VH1 never showed anything like this:

"Jeremy" by Pearl Jam

The first time I laid eyes on this video was in about 6th grade (1994/1995). VH1 was no doubt spinning the Billy Joel "In the Middle of the Night" video for the 10th time that day when Casy brought over a VHS tape of - hold your breath - 6 hours of taped MTV music videos! Do you have any idea what kind of excitement that produces in a 12 year old, MTV-less small town girl?! Her brother lived in a far off, magical land (Grand Forks, I believe it was) and had graciously gave her a tape recording MTV for all to enjoy.

Boy am I glad he did. I did a lot of growing up the day I saw this video.

I distinctly remember seeing the gun at the end on our tape. A gun! This clearly was a pre-Columbine world. I'll bet this video is nowhere near the airwaves today, even in a heavily edited form. And I didn't realize (spoiler alert) until Casy's mom mentioned that Jeremy killed himself at the end, not his classmates. Had she not said that to this day I'd still be thinking he killed them, not himself. Am I the only one who made that mistake?

I also loved this video because Jeremy reminded me of the love of my life at the time, Brad Renfro:

That is, before he turned into a total crackhead and OD'd or fell off a bridge or whatever classy form of crackhead death he chose.

So I hope I have effectively scared the pants off of you with Eddie Vedder's demonic, vein-bulging look. And reminded you not to pick on the quiet kid with a crappy home life. The consequences, as we have learned since more innocent times when this video came out, could be dire!

Selleck Love

2009-03-14T21:17:00.000+01:00

Some might say finding a man older than your father sexy is creepy. Especially when that man isn't Sean Connery. Well let me take you on a pleasant trip down moustache memory lane:

I present to you Tom Selleck. Tell me that isn't sexy! He makes that 'stache work. I can think of no other man on earth who can rock it so well.

Here are a few fun Tom Selleck facts: he was originally supposed to play Indiana Jones (yay) and he endorsed McCain this past election (boo). He's a big NRA supporter (no feelings either way on that one) and was born January 29, 1945. Yes, folks, Tom Selleck was born during World War II. Damn that's old! For me to consider him sexy, I mean. If anybody is keeping track: He is 15 months older than my dad. Little bit creepy, no?

My attraction to this man, I can only assume, dates back to 1987 and his fine performance in the fabulous film 3 Men and a Baby. Man that movie kicked ass. And that little baby was really cute. Then the 1990 sequel 3 Men and a Little Lady. Ted Danson, Steve Guttenberg, Tom Selleck. What's not to love?!

Then he was later on Friends as Monica's much older, former-childhood-dentist-turned-love-interest. Again, sexy as all get out. I take that as validation that I'm not the only one who A) is young enough to be his daughter yet B) would totally make out with him.

In closing, it is impossible for me to shorten his name to anything less than "Tom Selleck". He commands such respect! And it is impossible for me to look at him and not think, "Daaaamn!" Does that make me sick?

Memory Lane Monday #3

2009-03-09T21:25:00.000+01:00

It's that time of week again, folks. I present to you what I think to be my favorite song by this group:

"Mad Season" by Matchbox 20

Matchbox 20 is probably my favorite current/living band. And by saying "current" you can see how hideously out of date my music tastes really are. I prefer show tunes and a mismash of random artists, so sue me. But I heart Matchbox 20! And all their songs are good so it's hard to choose.

I also like this video. First, because Rob Thomas is H-O-T. Second, because at about 2:30 the cops and crowd start fight dancing. Choreographed fight dancing, people! If there's one thing in this whole world that I want is for my life to be more like a musical and people randomly burst out into song and dance. Love that about this video! And lastly there's a cute/quirky ending, that you don't see coming. Even if you don't like the song (I don't remember it getting as huge as their other songs) stick around for a satisfying ending.

Another anecdote from my wild 'n crazy past: I saw these guys in concert at the FargoDome shortly after graduating high school in 2001. I went with a bunch of random friends (Casy, Delani & Sara) who had nothing in common except me. And it was a grand old time.

Better than the concert was watching people walk from the staircase that connected the mezzanine to the floor. It was all lit with lightbulbs but the top bulb was burned out so you couldn't tell if there was a stair to get onto the platform or if it was flat. So people would come waltzing through, then fumble/stumble/trip onto the platform because they couldn't see the ground. It's hard to explain in writing but trust me - it was better than an entire episode of people wiping out on AFV and that alone was totally worth the ticket price!

Friday News Night

2009-03-06T21:12:00.001+01:00

Look what my dad is ever so generous to send me!

8 Walhalla Mountaineers! Hooray for small town newspapers! I have literally tens of minutes of entertainment ahead of me with these. It's quite an effective gossip rag. I devour each of them like a package of Twizzlers (which I recently did, in public. It was not pretty).

One gripe: In the subscription section it says that international shipping is $55 per year. Would I (*ahem* my dad *ahem*) pay $55 for 52 copies of this paper every year? Oh hells yes. But when my dad goes to order they say no, in fact it cannot be shipped abroad because there's not enough overseas people who order it and make a bulk shipping rate possible. Boo! Then why is it listed as an option?!

So JimBo sends me 4 at a time in a manila envelope, at great expense to himself ($4-6), for which I am forever thankful.

Memory Lane Monday #2

2009-03-02T21:22:00.000+01:00

Before I unveil my second superfab blast from the past music video I have to ask: Is it possible to trade in my American citizenship and Norwegian residency to live in Sweden for just one day? Despite their dreadfully silly language (tack sö mycket - I mean what is that?!) they have the best. music. ever. Case in point:

"Joyride" by Roxette

I have several important points to bring up:

1. If I ever have a female child she will be named Roxette.

2. Sweden, God bless 'em, has given us, in chronological order:
ABBA
Roxette
Ace of Base

Seriously, where do I go to defect?!

3. What is up with their hair?! Granted it was the early 90's but I want to know how she (Marie Fredriksson) had a super stylish 'do channeling Agyness Deyn:

Yet he (Per Gessle) looks like freaking Linda Richmond from Coffee Talk:

But I am not here to play Jan Thomas (American refrence: Jonathan Antin). I am here to offer you absolutely kick ass music from Sweden.

Though this song came out in 1991 it will forever remind me of the 2001 North Dakota Class B boys basketball tournmanet in Minot, ND. It is, was, and always will be the best weekend ever spent in ND in my entire life. We're #1! We're #1! In your face, Evan Lindahl.

Mr. President

2009-03-01T19:10:00.000+01:00

Sorry I haven't been able to entertain you lately; I was at an education fair at the Oslo Spektrum from Thursday to Saturday. And was at a seminar at the U.S. Embassy on Wednesday night. So Sunday is the first day I've had to wear sweatpants all day and blog! Look who I ran in to!
A cardboard cutout of my beloved president, whose face is clearly superimposed onto somebody elses body. Look at those hands! Not his! Nor does he wear glasses (that I know of), so why is the cutout holding a pair of Coke bottle glasses? And the cutout clearly has been "lightened up" a bit. Meh, he attracted a lot of attention and brought a lot of people to our stand.

Check out my brain child:

I was pretty proud of coming up with this. Just as we were tearing down our stand at the end of the fair the British people at the booth next door came over and told us it should've read "Yes we can - study in the U.S." Those smart Brits, that would've been even better!

I couldn't count the number of people who took a picture with the cutout. And we could've made a killing auctioning it off, by the number of people who offered to buy it! I just hope the Obama wave keeps up, not just for the sake of the world but for the sake of recruiting students to study in the U.S.!

Worth Rehab

2009-02-24T17:34:00.000+01:00

I would like to intro-seduce the world to the greatest drink ever. My "brother-in-law" (boyfriends brother sounds a bit too high school for me) first made it for me and it was love at first sip. It's like Sprite - with booze! It involves 2 crucial ingredients:

1. Cointreau
2. Tonic water
3. Lemon slice (optional)
4. Ice cubes (optional)

I don't have any lemons (or other citrus) on hand right now, nor do I have access to ice cubes in my spacious 1 square foot freezer. But I am thoroughly enjoying this drink right now, thanks to the Duty Free shop at the airport. Only $31 USD for a bottle of Cointreau! How much would this size cost in the U.S., anyone?

Also, what's the difference between Indian tonic water and regular 'ol tonic water? I could Wikipedia that information but I am far too lazy.

Try this drink! If it lands you in rehab it will so be worth it. Trust me.

Memory Lane Monday #1

2009-02-23T23:17:00.000+01:00

Being the nerd that I am (who kind of gets off on routine and responsibility) I am starting a weekly ritual, which I will call Memory Lane Monday. I think you'll enjoy it. Lord knows I will.

I will wisk myself and anybody brave enough to read this little gong show of a blog back in time via the greatest hits of the 70's, 80's, 90's and today. Thankfully we have YouTube to guide us along our journey. So let's begin!

"Two Sparrows In a Hurricane" by Tanya Tucker

Listen, relax, relive. I dare you to hear this song start to finish and not tear up. It's not physically possible. Sorry about the crappy image quality but you can blame the early 1990's for that, along with your seriously fug Zuba pants that I know you would murder to have back.

I'll come up with a good variety of songs on MLM, so we can all take a happy little trip to the past on the crappiest day of the week. I know most of my Norwegian (and probably non-Midwestern) peeps have probably never even heard of Tanya Tucker. I have 2 words for you suckers: Your Loss. Old school country kicks ass.

Krakow, Poland - Favorite Pic

2009-02-22T17:56:00.000+01:00

This is my favorite picture taken during our trip to Krakow, Poland. It's dark and eery, and the German language (which naturally creeps me out) adds to the doom of the barbed wire.

There literally aren't words to describe Auschwitz and Auschwitz-Birkenau, and I do mean literally. My little brain can't wrap around the numbers and statistics of horror that happened there. It just doesn't compute. A defense mechanism, perhaps?

On a brighter note, I'd like to give a shout out to the airline Norwegian, who got us to Poland, for several reasons:

1) Their airport Moss Lufthavn Rygge (MLR) services both Østfold (equated to a county, I think) and Oslo
2) Their check-in process involves scanning a barcode which is emailed to you, making it a super simple and quick process
3) They don't weigh your hand luggage, so it's easier to avoid checking in baggage
4) Their flight attendants are pretty good looking, not swamp donkeys
5) Their selection of destinations is good at MLR and even better at Oslo Gardermoen airport (OSL)
6) Their website is very easy to navigate and fiddle with dates/prices, and comes in tons of languages
7) Great prices!

Each ticket cost us 835 NOK (about $120) roundtrip. They have been late more often than not when we have flown them but if you know that's a possibility going into it you can deal. It's no frills (meaning no food, no entertainment) but it's relatively spacious onboard and you don't feel like you're in an East German post office circa 1986 during the flight. If you're traveling in Norway, or even Europe, do not book with RyanAir until you have checked out Norwegian (www.norwegian.no). You will not regret it!

American Work Ethic

2009-02-22T12:57:00.000+01:00

Strange name for a blog, eh? Well no, not if you live in Norway and know what I'm talking about. It's not that (in my humble opinion) Norwegians don't work, or work hard, it's just that they don't (have to) work as hard as we Americans. Not. Even. Close. A few examples:

Vacation time
Norway: 5 weeks per year
America: 2 weeks per year

Maternity leave
Norway: 9 months at 100% pay, or 12 months at 80% pay
America: 6 weeks if and only if your company has 50 or more employees

Note: The above is government mandated only, nowhere near set for everybody. These statistics might do nothing to illustrate my point (I'm so pompous, my point being: we work harder than you) but they do show that Americans have a more can-do, pull-yourself-up-by-the-boot-straps-and-figure-it-out-for-yourself attitude. The attitude of my mother, basically. I will call it The Poop in a Scoop Attitude (apologies; only graduates of Walhalla High will know what that means).

Norway as a whole has somehow figured out the Socialism thing without descending into a country of lazy, incompetent moochers. People get free healthcare! People can get their drugs paid for by the government (seriously, people)! Yet people still work! Personally I think this was all made possible by a little thing I like to call a shit load of cash windfall. Norway is a great rags-to-riches story and my hat is off to whoever managed the influx of bazillions of kroner when oil was discovered here in the 60's and 70's. They've truly turned it into a Utopian society for the average schmuck.

The Repubs (Republicans, you might as well commit that term to mind because they'll come up again) fear now that Obama is in office America will go Socialist, too. But they also fear everyone will go gay and go godless and whatever other nonsense I can't even wrap my brain around right now. My American friends, imagine actually having legal recourse if you are ill and you can't be fired from your job. Imagine a world where losing your job doesn't equal losing your health insurance (which can quickly and effortlessly lead to bankrupting you). Oh the horrors!

Bottom line: both countries make it work. If I lived in the U.S. would I have less vacation time? Yes, probably. But would I toil endlessly around the clock, with no breaks or vacations, as the Socialist world sees America? No. Here in Norway do I show up to work if and when I feel like it, do a half-assed job while swimming in pools of your money, the way America sees the Socialist world? Again, no. But could I? I most certainly could, but I won't because I have an American work ethic in Norway.

P.S. I didn't mean for this to turn into wild social commentary, and it won't always be. Expect a good mix of rants, raves, complaints, musings, bragging, worries, hopes, fears, in the many blogs to comes!