onsdag den 29. juli 2009

a crumpled receipt for a pair of leather boots

Do you want to share a listen? Do you want to lend an ear?
I was looking for the old Regina Spektor albums at the library, and ended up going through the whole S section. I didn't find any Regina, but I still walked home with quite the stack of precious music.
I have no wallet, I have no wallet. I keep my cards together with a blue rubber band.

tirsdag den 28. juli 2009

bread and sand


Is it over already?
The Viking Fair, Moesgård Beach, the last whole weekend of July. Since 1974.
Good moments were my aunt doing fire watch, getting very drunk and sending codes all over the walkie-talkies like "Foxtrot Bravo" for free booze and "Delta Delta" for big-busted women (double D's), sitting by the fire and singing Irish folk/drinking songs and theme songs from Pokémon, Bubbi Bjørnene (Gummi Bears) and Friends, falling down the stairs and finding a big drinking horn, and getting a new Viking dress to wear. Already excited for next year.

søndag den 26. juli 2009

i like taking time and i like your mind


Don't you want to share the guilt?

So I'm a huge Kate Nash fan. Like über fan. Well not really, but I love her music, and her lyrics make me happy and she's so pretty and nice and down-to-earth and real. Her concerts are so vibrant and she truly radiates, whether it is behind a guitar or a piano, or behind nothing at all, alone on the stage with a vintage dress and her cute bangs and a nervous giggle in the mic. I would turn gay for her. Again, not really, but she truly is wonderful.

I hate seagulls and I hate being sick. I hate burning my finger on the toaster and I hate knits. I hate falling over. I hate grazing my knee. I hate picking off the scab a little bit too early. I hate getting toothache. I hate when it's a piss take. I hate all the mistakes I make. I hate rude ignorant bastards and I hate snobbery. I hate anyone who if I was serving chips wouldn't talk to me. But I have a friend with whom I like to spend any time I can find with. I like sleeping in your bed. I like knowing what is going on inside your head. I like taking time and I like your mind and I like when your hand is in mine. I like getting drunk on the tunes by the beach. I like picking strawberries. I like cream teas and I like reading ghost stories and my heart skips a beat every time that we meet. It's been a while and now your smile is almost like a memory but then you're back and I am fine 'cause you're with me and I'm in love with you and I can't find the words to make it sound unique.

But honestly, you make me strong.
I can't believe I've found someone this kind.
I hope you'll carry on.
'Cause you're so nice and I'm in love with you..

darth vader was framed


Who can resist these sexy beasts?

The moon is shining on a fat night. Hilary Duff is really beautiful. I'm watching A Cinderella Story and thinking about what a big fatty I am. Well, I'm starting my running routine again tomorrow - I've been doing it since I got back, but have missed out the last three days because of the Viking Fair (pictures are coming) - but I'm still not feeling totally awsome yet. I took a bus and a train home from the beach today, smelling like fire smoke, lamb meat and seagull. I got so many angry looks from people (I know, I'm so rude to smell weird and have a big bag with me on a crowded piece of public transit), and even a toddler sticked her tongue out at me. God, I wanted to stick my finger in her soft spot so bad. Just kidding of course. When I got home I spent almost fifteen minutes cleaning my finger nails.
Tonight I'm going to be drinking lots of green tea and drool like a Quazzy over Chad Michael Murray. I might just start washing my clothes and getting organized, clean my face for the first time in a week, and maybe check out that math I've been neglecting since the end of school in June. Or maybe I'm just going to watch more crap TV.

open to the opportunities

How could anyone ever get rid of this?

I got some awesome stuff down in town today. A retro shirt that says "Patrick" on it, a pink kid's rain shirt (I'm thinking festival), a slightly-oversized dark purple velvet dress, and a very red and very large "Red Barnet" ('Save the Children' Denmark) zip-up sweater. The next festivals that are on my mind are the Denmark's Ugliest Festival on thursday (which, by the way, is also my 17th birthday) and Denmark's Most Beautiful Festival in the beginning of August. I know it will be rainy, there aren't really any super amazing large foreign bands coming in, but it will be Danish and it will be a beaut. Hopefully I'll see something new that will drag me towards them like friendly fire. Other than that I will be spending my time creating tank tops with band names and listening to Choir of Young Believers, Vinnie Who, and Juvelen over and over and over again.

fredag den 24. juli 2009

i'm no superman

Why must it always rain in the last whole weekend of July?

Last night I hung out with Stine and Anne. We drank, watched the old Hairspray and Sound of Music, and talked through life.
Today I'm packing, while drinking a really large glass of coke on puzzle-piece-shaped ice cubes and getting ready to head out to the Viking Fair. It sure is going to be a slice. Scrubs is on. I'm no Superman, either. Now where did those rubber boots go?

torsdag den 23. juli 2009

no handlebars

But you know what sucks?

Tour de France. It is blocking all the local channels on my TV, it's on all the news, and people just make way too big a deal out of it. And then there are all the freaky middle-aged plump men in my neighbourhood who have decided that anything Lance can do, they can do better. They appear to be popping in from out of nowhere everywhere I go in town, on their tiny skeleton-bicycles, sporting outfits that are way too tight and helmets that make them look like retarded foreign politicians. And to top it all, Tour de France is (gasp) French. Like what the fuck. The coolest thing to be said about this bicycle race is that Danish cyclists have a record in getting this sexy little yellow tricot to flash around the field. How embarrassing for our nation.

pretty little things


Should I stay or should I go?

I'm suddenly incredibly excited about the prospects of me moving out soon and the fact that it is clashing with my birthday. I've never been the type of person to have a big count-down going to my Big Day (it's honestly not that interesting and it's not much unique either, with this many people being born on the planet all day every day), but I've always been a sucker for presents. I was wondering about what kind of household stuff I need to start putting on the wishlist/shopping list in case I don't get it for my birthday. The next instant I was surfing all over Urban Outfitter's site with their lovely clocks, awesome books, cool mugs and amazingly stupid collection of random objects like key chain covers shaped like guitars and french fry telephones.

onsdag den 22. juli 2009

wrinkles and reading glasses

Would you rather have a wrinkle for every smile in your life, or no wrinkles and no smiles at all?

Golly gee. There is one week til my seventeenth birthday! I feel pretty damn old. My hip is making squeaky sounds and I'm pretty sure I'm starting to get bladder control issues. I can just smell the age formating all around me (or maybe I should reconsider the whole vacuuming-and-washing-the-floors ordeal in my room again). It's the wee hours of a thursday morning and I'm not tired at all. I might have issues. I've spent the last two hours looking at H&M home wear and KitchenAid mixers and I've decided to have my birthday party with a fifties housewife-theme. My mother likes to remind me that since I'm moving to Copenhagen this August, it's time for the countless albums and wardrobe additions to give way to less exciting stuff like towels and spatulas and linnen and perhaps some extra light bulbs (just in case) on the birthday wish list. I was starting to feel really old and disgusting in the f-my-life kind of way, but then I did a lot of googling and catalogue browsing and holy moly, there is a lot of sexy housewife gear out there! Suddenly I'm not so sad about the whole another-year-another-tear diva-concept. Who knows, I might even go out and buy Seventeen Magazine.

toilet walls and sharpies

How do you get permanent marker off a mirror?

I went to a party with a friend who lives near Copenhagen. We grew up together in the little golden nugget of Gørlev on the biggest island of Denmark, and she is still the girl I run to with my ups and downs these sixteen years later. One of her friends was turning seventeen, so we took a bus and a couple of trains, picking up more lovely party girls and 'a few bottles of Bud' on the way. We partied for almost ten hours straight, and all the way through I managed to still be chewing the same piece of cheap overpoweringly-minty gum that I had brought from home. At one point I wanted to take pictures of the party, but instead this guy who was hitting on my friend knocked my camera out of my hand and into a very red and very grown-up looking drink. Luckily I got a really cool conversation out of it with Hot Blonde Bartender about knee socks and tooth brush etiquette.

plucking away


I wonder if I can grow a unibrow... Or maybe a moustache?

So, I was heading down to Magnus' place to have a little drink in the garden and chill with my homeslices. I was about to scatter when I received a text from Emilie, asking me to wait for her so we could walk together. Oh how dependant that little monkey is! As I was all ready to go, I did what all girls do when they find themselves in front of a mirror with too much time on their hands; I started pinching every inch of my face, and had to grab my pink butterfly tweezers from Sephora to distract myself. When I was done plucking my brows and everything looked well-balanced and not-too-reddish-or-inflamed, I started looking at my hair. My long, dark brown hair with the long-past-outgrown bangs that I could finally stick together in a high ponytail without the use of bobby pins or hairbands. Did you stop at the word could in that sentence? You should've. Because moments later I had started chopping off bits and pieces. Bits became parts that became ends and then, voila, Anne got bangs! Trust me, I'm still in the process of forgiving myself and loving whatever I'm left with. I like the look, don't get me wrong, but I was just so excited about the bobby-pin-less hairdoes I could finally indulge in again that I was a little bit pissed when I realized my new fate in the shower the next morning. It was a bit of a slap-both-cheeks-and-scream-really-obnoxiously-Home-Alone moment.

it's back

What is the difference between anti-perspirant and deodorant?

I've become really curious. I've always been a deodorant kind of gal, but what if I'm missing out? I mean, we've all been there. It's summer-time in Denmark, it's hot out; it's inevitable that I'll wear something grey or lightly coloured, the way my clothes budget and laundry-skills are heading. Chase-cutting: I will be hot. I will suffer. And I will sweat. Perhaps it's time to do a little experiment?

A part from my perspiration wonderings, july's been pretty busy for me. I've been hosting a couple of grill parties for those of my friends that are in town at the moment, I just came home from a four-day biking/camping/all-girls trip to Samsø, an island off the East coast, and I'm still settling in to being home after living in Canada for a year. It's quite the mouthful, I must admit, and I expected myself to be freaking out by now, chewing my nails down to little bloody splits and hyperventilating into H&M giftbags. Instead, my nails are long, surprisingly dirt-free, and covered in two almost-perfect layers of varnish, and my breathing is as normal and relaxed as it will ever be.

And lastly, as you might have noticed, the blog is back! Better, faster, stronger, juicier, and a damned lot more feisty than before. Always remember to never forget the good times.