How Facecbook Killed Death

Warning: Sensitive topic. Stop reading if you can't handle it.

Clearly Facebook is getting a too big part of everybody's lives - including my own. What stuns me, in a very bad way, is what happens on Facebook when people die. With between 150 and 200 friends, I occasionally have to red "RIP" statuses or similar, and even though I don't know the grandma of my friend's friend, I still can't help it to feel a bit sad. A family more or less known to me is now going through hell, having a damn hard time. Of course it's sad - I'm not a monster without feelings.

What makes me sick is what Facebook does to death. Highly unpleasant anyway, it is somehow treated without dignity. I am not meaning that someone shouldn't mention their loved ones and wish them well - at least that was what I thought that I didn't mind. While writing these very words, however, I started doubting what I just wrote. Where does the boarder go - what is private? I guess Facebook is too big of a deal now to just let it pass.

Recently a friend on Facebook lost his brother, what I learned through a status update. Ok - we are not that well known, and for me I guess it is natural to learn over Facebook.Yet, while, out of curiosity, clicking into the friend's profile to see what's going on, and what's up with the really sad status, I notice that someone acquainted with my friend wrote on his wall. Something in the tone of "random babble, bad news", as in "do you still X, by the way, your brother died, did you hear it?". Something that makes me wanna puke and explode at the same time. Who in their right minds would post something like that on someone's wall?! Like some random everyday post - it's just so damn wrong. Imagine learning about one of your dear ones passing away through a notification on Facebook - it's disgusting. Is this what the world is turning into? Is this not the situation where you go personally to the person who, after all, just lost his brother? Or at least pick up your phone and call him?

Another thing that makes me sick is linking people that have passed away "I miss you so much Jonathan Smith, RIP RIP" allowing anybody to click into some person who only 12 hours ago played Farmville and wrote statuses about how lovely the weather is, and what their days will bring. It is so morbid - it makes you wonder, as an outsider, what happened, why so early - and that regarding people you don't even know. Then I ask myself: should it not be more private - do RIP-ers really want that to happen? People that never knew their dear ones sneaking around on their profiles? It just seems wrong. 

Returning to my friend, there are also other things that seem wrong to me, namely RIP-Facebook groups. I guess in one way it is nice to talk about the deceased, your nicest memories, sharing pictures. I understand it.   So it is not the groups that I am against. What makes me sick about it is the linking and starting posts with "please share", or "please invite your friends", thereby turning a person into a group request on your side bar, or into a post in the news-stream that gets scrolled through thousand times a day - is it not too impersonal? Is it not misplaced?

Yes, social networks are getting a bigger and bigger part of our lives, and the topic of death is part of life. But some things should simply be obvious. It is a sensitive topic, treat it that way.

Learning Humour

I just realized what my biggest challenge is when living here in Germany. Language? Occasionally a problem, but no. Homesickness? Of course I have it, but no. The biggest problem is, readers, that I am completely incapable of being funny in German.

To be able to understand this, readers, I must present myself as a cake. A personality-cake. The cake that is me consists of 10 pieces. I suppose the type of cake is irrelevant, but let's say I'm a chocolate cake. The deal is that normally 8 of 10 pieces of the Trolldis-cake is humour. 8 of 10, that is like 80%! So this means that only 20% consist the rest of my personality, so you know, kindness, intelligence (we're only talking cake-crumbles in this field, but I guess it's there), and so on. Bottom line 80% of the Trolldis cake is humour, 20% the rest. So most of Trolldis is a lump of humour. Here's the problem: Turns out you don't only have to learn the language, and how the German people are put together, you also have to learn humour. Clearly I am completely incapable of being funny when talking German. It's not like I don't try, it's just that every try ends in a massive fail.

Mostly I learnt my lack of German humour when i.e writing someone. I often ask my boyfriend to look through, makes me sure I'm not sending something braindead to people. And more than once I got the comment "Ehm.. Yeah, well.. We don't say that in German". "That's not funny in German", "I don't get that". "Nobody will get that" - at least he kinda prevented me from saying something really stupid, so it did not seem like the 80% lacking was indeed a reduction of the brains.

At least the Germans can laugh when I fuck up in German, and make embarrassing mistakes. For example, replacing "Krawatte" (tie) with "Karotte" (carrot), or saying "Waffelstillstand" when I wanted to say "Waffenstillstand" (sorry, I have no good translation, so I guess this one is just for the Germans). Of course, I disgrace myself like this all the time, but that's not the kind of humour I mean here.

The biggest problem, when the 80% humour cannot be shown inside Germany, only 20% of my personality is left to be shown, and I suppose you can all imagine what this means: Not only do Germans see a Trolldis 80% reduced, but I must appear to be the lamest personality to ever have set foot in Germany. Imagine what person you appear to be if 80% of your personality is just gone. Yes, you may feel sympathy. Thank you, readers, it is so kind.

At least I hope that it is just in German that I'm lame, maybe I just really hope this is the case, when in fact I am just getting lamer and lame with age. And the day I turn 22, my humour will drop to 0% and people run away in order to not talk to me. So my 80% goes from humour to BORING. To be honest, I prefer to believe the "lame in German" thing, that means I can at least have someone smiling at me when returning to Norway. So, readers, let me live in this hope!

Whether I am capable of being funny in English or not is up to me to decide, but that's not my biggest worry. Now I will go learn some German, and I'm not talking about vocabulary or grammar. I'm off to learn some German humour!

Hopeless Intentions: Trolldis during Academy Awards

In my little world, intentions constantly.. let's say it in a nice way compared to what it really is - gets totally fucked up. And this does not only apply to intentions that argue with my lazy lifestyle. You know how cleaning the apartment is a good idea before you actually pick up the bucket and start washing? Or how training tomorrow is a good idea today? That's exactly what I'm talking about. Unfortunately, it also applies when I don't want it to. Like, for instance, when the Oscars were going on TV.

As you probably know the Academy Awards were a couple of nights ago, and then too, I had high intentions. (Not only in what I'm about to tell you - but I've been wanting to write this blog-post since the Academy Awards - point proven? Too well.). So the whole intention-game consists of what I intended to do, and what I did. And this is how it looked at the night of the Oscars.

What I intended to do
Stay up till 02.00, follow it with graciousness and full attention, in my imagination I looked elegant, very awake. With a cup of tea. I did not look like a troll, I did not have a hairdo of a, and please forgive the lack of creativity, troll. Breath like an angel, perfect makeup. So yes - nothing like I normally look at 2 in the night.

What I did:
Struggled like crazy to stay awake, fell asleep at 01.00, but my clever self had thought of that scenario, and the alarm went off at 01.50. Desperately forced my eyes to remain open till 02.00, though I suspect that I was actually asleep, just with open eyes. And then there's a lot of blah-blah, and Sandman had evil plans the whole evening already, and hid under the bed. So we fought. When the action finally started half an hour later, Sandman had kinda won the match. What a bastard. So what did I do? Sleep like a rock -  DAMN YOU Sandman. Hair like a troll, snoring. And though I cannot describe how I look when I am sleeping - I can guarantee you that it is no pretty sight. Not my most gracious Oscars, but what the hell - someone's gotta make the others bloom, ne?

But luckily my boyfriend had a back-up plan, and recorded it, so we had the opportunity of watching it the next day as well. As you can imagine, you still want the action, the excitement and the full glamour the day after. So no, you don't wanna read how many Oscars this and that film got at the front page of some tabloid, nor what this and that hottie had on. So the hours before watching the Oscars yesterday were hell for me. All potential spoilers hover around you like a hawk. TV remained off, Facebook was off limits, Twitter was creepy. And when it came to the news, well.. Anything could have happened yesterday, World War III could have started, dinosaurs could have arrived with huge spaceships from Mars, eating the American continent, and even chops out of Europe. And I wouldn't have known anything. But luckily it did not, and after a long struggle, around 20.00 it had all been worth it, as Colin Firth got the Oscar for Best Male Actor, and The King's Speech all in all 4 Oscars, I will go to bed for the next week with a huuuge smile all over my face.

For those of you who didn't hear about The King's Speech, do yourself a favour and check it out. Here's a trailer for you:



Enjoy! Good night, and I hope your intentions don't always fuck up as badly as mine.

PS: Really! Watch The King's Speech - It's awesome, it has everything. It's educational. Colin Firth. Funny. Touching. Great. Go go!

I hope you did not find what you were looking for

I hope that it does not make me a bad person, actually I have several arguments (I would say strong arguments) that I am not a bad person:

One: I have the dignity to hide it when I laugh of people falling on their butt on the ice.
Two: When the punker-burglars on the main station runs after me asking for money (that they end up using on beer, beer and more beer) I do not ask them to fuck off. (I know, readers, an impressive amount of self-control)
Three:  When Jehovah's Witnesses ring the doorbell, I do not slam the door in their faces.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? "What is she even doing still? She has clearly proved her goodness already." I could have listed a million reasons why I'm not a bad person, but I have better ways to spend my time. Old readers already know that I'm a giver, and for new readers: I'm a giver. So the whole "Is Trolldis a bad or good person" is not really a question anymore, agreed?

... either way, I still hope you didn't find what you were looking for - this applies to people finding my blog through searching terms like "panties made in Germany", "drunk Germans Lederhosen", "men in manties", and the terms "drunk German" and "lederhosen" in more combinations then you even would think existed, and when it includes the word "sexy", even more combinations come into light . Because - if you did search terms like this, and you did find what you were looking for, this automatically makes statement about my blog, that I would prefer was never made. Not only about my blog, but subsequently me as a blogger. If I were even half as fascinated with panties, and then especially manties, as most of my readers (ok, so not "readers", more "most of the random people stumbling randomly upon my blog searching random, and at times pervy words") I would personally send applications to the nearest psychowards begging them to take me in and fix my head, and I believe I would also get a spot pretty fast. We're talking sick, sick fetishes, ladies and gentlemen. I will not give you any percentage of pervy hits here, those of you who know me personally probably know that my strongest talents are not within maths, those of you who do not: I suck in maths. But who needs maths when they are such pure, good souls?

This a final proof of my striking lack of intelligence. What do you all think happens when writing a blog-post containing words that already bring many doubtful individuals to finding my blog? That's right, it is even more likely that these terms lead to my blog. If I continue like this I'll come before "manties.net" when someone search "manties" on Google. So, the chances are doubled that mantie- and lederhosen-lovers, people wanting sexy drunk Germans on Octoberfest, and other pervs end up right here. Plus, in this blog-post I also applied the word "butt" and "Jehovas Witness" - are we talking a fucked up new fetish? I will be sure to announce when someone stumbled upon my blog with these words. And if you're the person: Hi there, please send me a mail and let me write a blog about you. Love, Trolldis.

I suppose it's time to go to bed before I manage to write more crap, or fall asleep on my keyboard and post a blog written uniquely with my head, perhaps assisted by my nose.

Good night, dear readers! See you next time, then I'll try not to be overly tired and write crap. Promise. :)

Saying Goodbye

It seems like yesterday. We sat around the table, drinking beer, laughing, having fun. Little did I know, that this evening would lead to something dreadful. Little did I know that what seemed like a triviality, would have major consequences.

It was early in the semester, plans, hopes, dreams and intentions. Things were new for us all, new subjects, new time tables, new challenges. I personally had nothing to do with what was decided that evening, I was just the observer. I remained silent when I should spoken, still when I should scream "No, for the love of GOD, NO!". Knowing that you could have done something makes it even harder to say goodbye. But it is inevitable, at a certain point you simply cannot refuse to open your eyes - see the facts - accept the facts.

So here I am, trying to enjoy the last evening with you. Somehow it is hard to realise that you will no longer be here tomorrow. Hard to realise cause I do not want to realise it. Please, give me one more day - one more week. Why now?

I'm drawing my fingers through you one last time, not wanting to let go. But I have to face the truth. You will not even die a graceful death. Tomorrow you will be cut off by an electric razor, fall in a pile of dead hair, and later be flushed down the toilet - what a fate! You will be gone - and my boyfriend will end up looking like an egg. But in all the sorrow, it is important to see, that it is not over. Hair grows out again. The world goes on. However, before this happen: if you will see five eggheads wandering around the streets of Leipzig, you know that they all sat around the table the very night in question - the night that would change their lives more than they knew.

So what's the deal here? What happened this special evening? I think the time has come to tell you, readers: This very evening my boyfriend and his friends came up with this wacko idea of shaving their heads if they were to pass a certain exam at the end of the semester. And great news - they passed. And here I am - about to be the girlfriend of what looks like an egg. A charming egg - he'll get that. I'll just have to think every day that it's hair - it grows out again.

Well, well.. Now I'm spending the rest of the evening with my soon-to-be egg, parting with his hair, in other words: Goodbye.

A Bunch of Racist Assholes

Disclaimer:  My language is not particularly nice within this blog post, if you have a problem with the word "ass" and similar, I suggest you do not read this post. Really.

Na, so who do I mean in the headline? My own kind, Norwegians. Of course just a tiny part of it, and of course there are plenty of racist assholes all over the world. Ok, so if you're a Norwegian, and not a racist asshole - we're fine, no need to get insulted then. And if you are indeed a racist asshole, please get the hell away from my blog. If I find you I will hurt you. That having been said, let's proceed, shall we?

To be able to understand the rest, this is the song that will represent Norway in Eurovision Song Contest  this year:



I don't love it, but I don't think it sucks. My opinion on the song is anyway irrelevant, what is relevant is how much I hate these fucking racist assholes. Ok, so the comment field in youtube is clearly not the place to look if you want to locate the most intelligent people inhabited on earth, but sometimes I just can't help it. And it usually ends up pissing me off. Why? Some people can't think longer than their nose is, and should really all get a pair of robust boots up their asses.

The nominees for the price  "biggest asshole in the world" are as followed:

Asshole 1: "great.. african reps norway.. fucking proud of my country now ... right.. "
Asshole 2: "Go back to Africa and let a Norwegian sing."
Asshole 3:"she is way too ethunic for my taste"
Asshole 4: "And this is NOT representing Norway, our country in any way. We are not africans. "

First of all: You are all (please note: referring to the previously listed assholes) very welcome to kiss my ass, even though I would say my ass is not worthy of your kisses. Actually, you can hate the song as much as you want, I don't care, I'm not here to protect it, but the colour of her skin is irrelevant. Why is she less Norwegian than you? Because she is not as pale as a corpse, blonde haired, blue eyed? Guess what, shitheads - skin colour does not denote nationality, maybe it did an unknown number of years ago, but for Christ sake: We live in 2011, wake up! Multiculturalism. It makes me wanna puke when I hear/read these kinds of statements, why can't the world just be a nice place?

For the record: I find this song better than what Norway usually sends abroad. Finally someone who applies some rhythm, and makes it catchy in a way. For those of you "wanting something Norwegian", guess how many times "Norwegian" music got 0 points in ESC? 4. And Norway was last 10 times. Because? Crappy music. So in my opinion, be happy that someone finally does something different, and stop judging people after skin colour.

By the way, readers. If anyone of you happen to know Asshole 1, 2, 3 or 4. Please do the following: Kick their asses, and tell me that you did. I will bake you muffins, or cake. Whatever you prefer. One should get rewarded for participating in bringing justice to the world.

And now I'm gonna watch puppies and kittens on youtube to calm down and forget for a while how many idiots the world holds.

With the intention of turning your Sunday-frown upside down

If you would drug me down, put me into a completely black room without any contact to the outside world, or any knowledge about time, day, week, month or year. If you would keep me there for years, feed me through a hole in the wall where I'd get all food in floating form through a straw. No television, no newspapers, no nothing. I would go completely crazy. And in the state of being completely crazy - I swear - I would still be able to feel when it was Sunday, cause I am 100% certain that Sundays will always just feel a bit sadder, greyer and shittier. Now, this is not me making a bet or anything, so I'd really appreciate it if you would not kidnap me.

This particular Sunday you are all in luck, this is, if you like British humour. If you do not like British humour, I suggest you locate the cross in the upper right corner and click it. I would really appreciate it, cause guess what, I do not wanna be the person who made the crappy Sunday even crappier. That would make me the devil or something! And you know readers, that's just not me.

Ok, so lets get to business. The first attempt of making that Sunday-frown turn upside down!



If it is still a frown I officially failed as a blogger. But I'm not giving up before Hugh and Laurie gave it a shot too.



One last shot. And this, readers, is a classic. Thus: You have to find it awesome.



I hope I have made your Sunday evening feel a bit less like a Sunday evening. And that you smiled at least once. Then I'm happy.If you did not, I've gotta try harder some other Sunday, and mark my words: Once I will rock your Sunday!

Have a nice evening, everyone :)

The Evolution of Smileys: The Golden Rule of the Mouths

Once upon a time, early in the history of internet, there were two smileys. One happy one, :-) , and one sad one :-(. Theoretically there were four, since well, they existed with and without noses, but lets say that the one without noses simply had a genetic error. Can you all imagine a life in which two simple smileys, and two handicapped versions of these simple smileys, were all you needed? 

Today I can not and will not count the amount of smileys out there, but I am guessing millions. People tap randomly on their keyboard, and voila, a new smiley. Happiness and sadness are not longer enough, now it's of course hornyness, depression, hunger, tiredness, ultra sad, and super happy, cat face, frog face, angry, and I could go on the whole night but I will not. Sometimes you really profit from my laziness, readers. Let me hear a hallelujah!

A problem that developed over the years is the overuse of smileys. When "xD" first appeared I know that I found it awesome, and used it... let's say 'quite often'. And of course you use it when something is funny, so, for some people, maybe very many, maybe way too many, the "xD" is almost a signature. They feel that the sentence is not complete without one. So what happened, ladies and gentlemen. The smiley is completely overused, the effect is not the same as it once was. When it first appeared, and someone used it, it implied that something was oh, so funny. "OMG that's so awesome I peed a little!" Now it's just used randomly. "I bought a bike yesterday xD." or " I'm going to eat xD". Unless you have a very twisted sense of humour, you did not find that mentionable funny, indeed I hope not funny at all, cause that would tell me that you as followers only read my blog because your, and therefore also my humour is... let's say less good. Back to the point: If "xD" is the smiley used to imply that something is funny, and this effect is dead, what then? Is the world going under? Nah, let's just give him big eyes! "XD" should do, no? Ok, so now the effect of the big eyes don't work either, what the fuck do we do now? The Golden Rule of the Mouths, readers. It's like an unwritten rule, that I will now do you all the favour of writing down. I know, I'm such a giver. "When the writer would like to express happiness, sadness or that (s)he is amused, and belonging smiley does not show the mood strong enough, the writer should add extra mouths on the smiley". For those of you being unaware of this rule, I will explain it to you in detail, using examples that might just as well occur in the real life.

Friend: My dog just died. 
You: :(

(dear readers, it's me, Trolldis. You can see here, that the ":(" simply ain't sad enough. Do you remember the Golden Rule of the Mouths? Let's try again)

Friend: My dog just died
You: :((((((

(pst, it's me again, readers. As you can see, the second example is hellofalot sadder, and in the smiley world this is not looking like very many chins, it does look like a damn sad sad face. Let's use another example)

Friend: My dildo just fell in my mother-in-laws head when she was opening the cabinet
You: xD

(small comment. As you can see, this is a situation where a simple "xD" simply is unfair for the humour of the situation. If you are as me, you will probably all lie on the floor twisting in laughter, and how does a "xD" show this? In no way, readers, it's a shame for the world of humour. Let's try again)

Friend: My dildo just fell in my mother-in-laws head when she was opening the cabinet
You: xDDDDDDDDDDD


As you see, the second examples, both given more mouths, serve the mood of the situation better. Imagine how insulted the friend will be if their dog died, and you don't even bother to make a damn sad smiley, just a sad one. Did you even consider that? You are a cold, cold person. Actually, why is a sad smiley called a smiley? I hereby rename it: Sadley. Where was I? Ah, right, conclusion. I hope very much that I have been solving alot of your problems within this blog post, and the next time you find something damn funny, or your friend's dog dies, you know what to do. The Golden Rule of the Mouths.

Next blog in these series: The Evolution of Smileys: The Inevitable Companion.
Publishing date: Unknown.
Starring: Smiley, Sadley and friends.

Good evening, all! :)

Did y'all watch "Once"?

Today I saw the best film in a very long time... ok, at least since I saw Black Swan. (which, by the way, you should all go watch at this instant, cause it's incredibly good, and I suppose it cannot be hidden that Natalie Portman is gorgeous?) Namely (no, I have not been living under a rock, nor in a bubble, and yes, I know that it's old) Once. It's kind of a musical, but kind of not, with lovely music, where the actors aren't really actors but musicians (but it doesn't make the film bad, on the contrary!), and the two main people don't even have a name in the film. And it's special, unique, and far from clichèish. Though at the end I wish it would be, cause.. Well, now I'm in a pickle. I have two options. The first is to tell everything about the film, and then if you'd be interested to watch it,  you wouldn't cause guess what, Trolldis spoiled it for you. Oor two, not tell anything about the film, you get bored, uninterested, and I could just as well have written all about it, but if I chose option two there are always some people that actually got interested from the little things I did indeed write, and.. Ok, I take the risk. Boring blog post, but you might thank me if you watch the film and I didn't spoil everything for you. Were was I? Oh yes. I wish it would be clichèish cause (censored). You know what, here's the trailer. Then you can't blame me for spoiling it, rather some guy on youtube.. I can live with that. Bitte schön:



Friendly tips, if you didn't watch it till now, then do! It's well worth 80 minutes of your life.

Ok, another subject (theoretically not, since I already mentioned it.) Black Swan, people! Awesome, awesome. Again, trailer, cause then ye can't blame me for spoilers. Oh, Youtube, I really do like you.



"Oh, so Trolldis finally pretends to care about her readers". I know what you're thinking, guys. But listen to this. Done with two exams, two! Defining Structuralism and interpreting "The Flea" by John Donne was parts of it. Plus general questions about Britain and about literature, definition of metre and rhyme, info about the English Sonnet. All ok, and I am (at the moment, temporarily) FREE! Free equals time for blogging, eating, sleeping, and other things that you will not have time to do when reading for exams. So no, readers, I did not forget you, Shakespeare and Roland Barthes were both unfortunately a bigger part of my life the last months. So I promise: I did not forget you. (I hope you didn't forget me either, would be totally sad).

Well, guys. Have a great evening. I can tell you that I will. Ah, lovely, lazy life, I've missed you!

New years rant

Hello, dear readers. I know you're probably totally pissed cause I didn't wish you a happy new year yet? I hope you weren't all grumpy till now... Well, let me lighten up the rest of your year. Happy New Year! The new year resolution this year is to wish happy new year next year, when the year is actually still new. And you know loosing weight, start doing sports, eating healthier, be a good student, [insert all clichés] All are doomed, I know.

I'm always surprised the blog lets me log in, I kind of expect every time that I'll get some kinda refuse since the blog banned me.If I were this blog I'd totally do so, I refuse to believe that lousier blog owners exists. Oh yes, that should be another new years resolution, take better care of my blog, feed it a bit. Not to mention entertain my perhaps 3 readers, if they didn't ban me as well.

Is it a valid excuse that I've been busy? You know, reading books, Jane Eyre, Sense & Sensibility, writing essays about Violent Video Games and Children, and about Sonnet 128, and about Stephen King's "Last Rung on the Ladder". Is it at least a bit valid? (and I feel that you all can be a bit kind here, karma, people, KARMA!)

Fact is, readers, I'm turning old and boring, and the day that you'll realize, I'll be left here, with only a blog. No, actually, that's pretty much a lie, cause then I'll abandon the blog as well. So the blog will be left here, with nothing but old crap, and the occasional person stumbling in her by mistake looking for Sexy Germans in Lederhosen (and someone googling this term did indeed end up in my blog somehow). And it will die a sad death amongst endless loads of internet crap, what a destiny! I can always hope that you, readers, turn old and boring with me, and somehow find the old and boring crap I will write entertaining in your state of being old and boring. But I guess I shouldn't push my luck too far, I somehow suspect that it will come back biting me in the ass then.

Now, look what happens when a person writes just to write, so the blog does not end up hating me, and we'll always have a good relationship. A question just comes to mind, if a blog were to hate, would it hate most for occasional poopy blog posts, or no blog posts at all? I suppose it depends, if the poopy one kinda feeds it, I suppose it's just full and happy. So conclusion: A occasional poopy blog post is ok. (This is mostly to calm down my own mind when I wake up tomorrow and read all the crap I wrote yesterday, it's allright, Trolldis! Your blog is happy, that's aall that counts! Plus, if it is even poopier than you remember, you can always delete it.)

Now. That's enough crap for one evening. Once again, happy new year, and I hope not all new years resolutions went to hell already.

Shit. I'm getting old.

I just had a great Christmas celebration in Northern Norway with my mother, my stepfather, my boyfriend and my oldest younger brother, and for the first time ever I met his son. This, of course led to my mother telling stories about what my brother and I did as kids, and at times this was indeed very funny.

My brother, when he was small, he was quite the flirt, or should we say perv? Once when we were in church, he cannot have been older than two years old. He impulsively kissed a stranger in the church, an old women  that we didn't really know right on the mouth. She was totally flattered, and from that day on she always sent us flowers in Christmas. Some years later, he was probably around four, he flew for the first time. There were a couple of drunk guys sitting right next to us. Someone touched the stewardesses ass, as she turned to tell the drunk men to stop it, she saw my little brother, with a smile from ear to ear, staring at her in admiration, and she realized that the perv was a little bit younger this time. At this point she could not do other than laughing, saying that "well, you're starting early!". I bet stewardesses don't get felt up by kids every day...

I was the best big sister in the world, I pushed him down the concrete stairs, into a table, out of the bed. I took his bottle, drank all that was inside, and hit him in the head with it before giving it back. The number of stitches he had to sew cause of me is at least consisting of two digits.I would plan the crimes, I'd tell him what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. Organized Child Crime to tha bone. I'd tell him how he would be able to steal as many cookies as possible, without leaving a trace. How he would be able to cover up the broken vase, that I broke, of course. I used the poor guy as my own, personal, loyal slave. One time our babysitter was talking in the phone, or something, and we decided to eat some. He fetched the ingredients, I was standing guard. Eating is not illegal, the way we prepared the food, however... It can be discussed whether mixing corn flakes, milk, sugar, and jam on the wall to wall carpet was a good idea. We would say yes, our parents were more on the no-side. I bet the carpet still stinks like rotten milk.

One Christmas, when we were both quite small, my mother was going outside for a few minutes, she told us to NOT play with the Christmas tree. We replied "yes muuum", and she went. What was the first thing we did? Make one guess. The sight awaiting my mother when returning was two children decorated with one Christmas tree. One could barely be seen, as the tree was covering him completely, while the other was shown partly. Kid number one screamed in full panic, while kid number two (being me, the evil one) had a very confusing, and even more guilty, look in its face.

At a certain age my brother had the bad habit of waking up in the middle of the night and watch telly, grab a bite, whatever he felt like.It is not a secret that this was not very popular among my parents. One night he woke up in the middle of the night to get something to eat. He snuck into the kitchen, cut a slice of bread, put on strawberry jam, and was about to eat as he heard our father wake up to go to the toilet. My father is rather bad tempered, so my brother did what he had to do to not get caught. In full panic he ran towards his room, realizing that he had to get rid of the evidence, so he threw the slice of bread the first and best place he found, namely in my fathers shoes. Bad tempered father + strawberry jam and slice of bread in shoe = damn hilarious, believe me.


Oh, the good old times.

Shit. I'm getting old.

Oh Shit!

Something I just felt like sharing. Enjoy!

All the things you think you know...

And here I thought North Korea was actually North of South Korea.

Fetched here

Thank God that the news cleared that up for me! :D

A treat

A small treat for those of you eager to read something touching*, sad*, and beautiful*. It will take maximum 5 minutes of your time, and it is worth every minute. I am probably stating the obvious here, but you'll have to zoom when entering the link.

Click here

I cried*. Truth.

*Please note that this blog-post is written by someone totally over-sentimental, reactions may differ.

What I want for Christmas

We (my boyfriend and I) just ordered tickets to Northern-Norway for Christmas! I'm almost dancing of happiness cause of several reasons, the biggest reason of all is that I'm meeting my mum again, yaay! When studying abroad it is quite limited how often I can do that, so it is indeed great. And last year I was in Germany, so no delicious Norwegian Christmas-food for me, double-yaay! (Don't get me wrong though, Germany in Christmas is gorgeous and lovely and great as well, but well, without my family..)

So, anyway, I've been thinking, and I found out what I want for Christmas. And this wish is indeed what I want the most, if I get it I do not need anything else (ok, lie. If you try to take the Norwegian Christmas-food from me, I swear to God/whatever is up there,  that you will regret it) at all. So, ready? Unfortunately there is nobody who can actually make this wish come true, except for Mother Earth, and I don't think she's the kind to just give strangers what they want, so if anybody knows her.. Would you be so kind to ask her nicely? I'll give you money, hugs, I'll be your slave for a year, whatever you prefer.

So, what I want for Christmas, more than anything in the whole wide world, is this:

Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/walkadog/3389058334/


And I want it because I want my boyfriend to experience this fantastic phenomenon! So no, it is not for me, this is an unselfish wish (to a certain degree, I mean, it's not like I will sit inside and stare in the wall if I do indeed get my wish fulfilled.) and I cannot think about anything else that would make me more happy. Truth.

Please Mother Earth, please people who knows Mother Earth, grant me this wish. I was a good girl this year, and my boyfriend deserves it. Reason enough? I think so.

My boyfriend comes from Bavaria

In the process of getting to know people, there are always certain questions that always turns up. A dialogue could be something like this...

Where are you from?  
I'm from Norway


Why are you studying in Germany then? 
 (long answer, irrelevant for blog-post)

Where do you live?                                                
(no, rapists out there, this info I will not give you)


Huh?? You live with your boyfriend?
Yes, I do.


How did you meet?
(long answer, irrelevant for blog-post)

Is he from Leipzig?                                                
No, he is just studying here.

Where then?                                                          
He's from Bavaria.

Oh.......

Believe me, the "oh" is always followed by a very awkward, silent moment. And sure, I get it. Bavaria equals fat guys in Lederhosen drinking litres and litres of beer, right? Speaking a dialect of German that no Germans really understands. So, the guy who brought my heart, and therefore me, to Germany looks like this:

Picture from here.

This is why I understand the awkward, silent moment. Cause in the minds of whoever asked me the questions, thoughts are wandering around, and all of them officially declares me as crazy. I'll be the one with the stamp in the forehead saying "I left my home-country for a fat guy in Lederhosen".

So, it has come to a point where I always have to throw in a sentence after saying that he's from Bavaria. But he's not all weird! Really! I do not think anyone believes me. I actually think saying he's from Yemen would bring less reactions. Crazy.

Next time somebody asks, he's from Frankfurt : D You know, I'm a lazy soul, so this is strictly to save me from the argue, and the awkward moments. Who likes those anyway?

Have a nice evening :)

"How's your German"?

When talking to friends and family from Norway there are always some questions that gets asked over and over again. How are you? How's uni? How do you like it in Germany? I'm fine, uni is awesome, and I love Germany. Then there's a last question. How's your German?. Not fine, not awesome, and certainly not lovable. So this question is harder to answer. Of course they are curious, how fast does it get better? Does it even get better at all?

Of course when living in Germany, you are forced to speak German in many situations, at the store, at the bakery, when buying food, etc, etc. I've learnt that with some simple phrases you come far. "Ist hier noch frei?", "Stimmt so", "Danke, Ihnen auch", or for the slightly more pushy Germans, and with these I mean the ones wandering around at the main-station inventing one crappy lie after another, to get a Euro or 100 from you. ("Ich brauche Geld, sodass ich meinen Frosch im Krankenhaus besuchen kann"). Be rough, people, be rough. "Von mir kriegst du nichts, verschwinde!".

Unfortunately (and yes, this is unfortunate) I have many opportunities to escape from German, after all I'm studying English, all the fellow-students are fully capable of understanding if I ask them questions in English. It would be better if I would use a huge sign in the forehead saying "Reden Sie auf keinen Fall Englisch mit mir!", so that I would be 100% forced to talk German, always. I guess this is a question of self-discipline, really.

I suppose I should try to answer the question though. My German is getting better, and it would get better whether I wanted it or not. It is impossible not to pick up words and phrases when you have German around you 24/7, and that is good. It's one of the main reasons why I'm here anyway. So I'm looking forward to see my own German bloom, I'm hoping that I'll speak German fluently by the time I'll have my bachelor. We'll see that in three years, won't we?

Guten Abend ^__^

I did not lie

I tried to convince you last time that I'm still alive, and when posting soo rarely, I bet all my blog-posts will have to do that. Last time was 1,5 months ago, and in this big period of time, I might just has well been run over by a tractor, or eaten by a horde of bloodthirsty birds, you'll never know. But apart from perhaps feeeling half-dead cause of the amount of things to do at the university, I'm alive and kickin' like a frog on speed.

So, a lot of important, life-changing things happened since last time I said hello. I cut my nails at least 5 times, I bought a pair of new jeans, I cut off half my fingertip while making dinner. As you can see all these things are clearly very important matters that I will indeed think about when lying on my deathbed. Ok, back to reality. I live in Germany now. Yep, in the country of Bier and Lederhosen, (no, I'm not living in Bavaria, but they are funnier to make fun of anyway.). I live in gorgeous Leipzig, and loving it! The city is gorgeous, the university is gorgeous, and our apartment is gorgeous! Pictures will come (when I have time, a small Christmas-present perhaps?).

Maybe you forgive me for not writing often when you see all I've done? :) Moving, buying furniture, building the furniture that we've bought, fixing all kinds of official papers, fixing cable-tv (and this is for Kabel Deutschland: #%@(%& ))#&(!)! !!!!!), internet, electricity, and of course I had a lot of lost cuddling to do (and with this I won't be done before I have my bachelor..). So, just to convince you once more, I am alive, and I'll try to post more often here.

So, see you around, and hopefully before Christmas : D

Yes, she´s alive.

Truth, though I understand that you can't quite believe it. I was kinda busy lately dealing with angry customers at work, and stressing. Alot. See, the last months was the months where I was constantly nervous about the future. Would Uni Leipzig accept me? And what on earth would I do if not?

But, ladies and gentlemen, I hereby announce that I am in Germany, searching for an apartment. So yes, they accepted me. (and I don't think I'll ever realize it). So now I can start worrying about what the hell I got myself into? Studies in German? My, my, my..... But, let's all suppose I will actually survive this, and that all the cosy Germans wont think that I'm something that is quite close to braindead.

Wish me luck! :-)

It's official - I rock

In German, this is. You know the exams I took 6 weeks ago? German? Well, ladies and gentlemen, I got the result. And I am officially good in German, I can officially read, hear, write and talk German at a level that is needed to study in Germany. It's a number, on a paper, a number that tells whoever looks at this (and really, who does except from me, maybe parents, some friends I force it upon, and the Universities I apply to?) that I, yours truly, rock. Of course I wanted to blog about this the second I got to know it, but.. uhm.. I was busy, you know, partying all night, and soaking my brains out. (in a world where "party" means "sleep", and "soaking my brains out" means something like.. snoring. Yes, I know, I'm so graceful).

When someone now asks me if I "speak German" I can, with my hand on my heart, say yes. If this lil' bastard would doubt me I always have the diploma to shove in his/her/its face. Oh, the never-ending joy!

I rock this much:

LESEVERSTEHEN TDN 4 Kann geschriebene Texte aus dem studienbezogenen Alltag sowie Texte zu fächerübergreifenden wissenschaftlichen Themen, deren Struktur sich an der Allgemeinsprache orientiert, in ihrem Gesamtzusammenhang und in ihren Einzelheiten verstehen.

Oh yes!

HÖRVERSTEHEN TDN 4 Kann gesprochene Texte aus dem studienbezogenen Alltag sowie Texte zu fächerübergreifenden wissenschaftlichen Themen, deren Struktur sich an der Allgemeinsprache orientiert, in ihren wesentlichen Aussagen verstehen.

Uh-uhm!

SCHRIFTLICHER AUSDRUCK TDN 4 Kann sich in studienbezogenen Alltagssituationen (u. a. Bericht für Stipendiengeber) sowie im fächerübergreifenden wissenschaftlichen Kontext (u. a. Protokolle, Thesenpapiere) weitgehend zusammenhängend und strukturiert sowie weitgehend angemessen äußern; sprachliche Mängel beeinträchtigen das Textverständnis nicht.

Thaaat's right!

MÜNDLICHER AUSDRUCK TDN 4 Kann sich in studienbezogenen Alltagssituationen (u. a. Immatrikulation, Anmeldung zur Lehrveranstaltung) sowie im fächerübergreifenden wissenschaftlichen Kontext (u. a. gesellschaftspolitische Diskussionen) weitgehend situationsangemessen mündlich äußern, sprachliche Mängel beeinträchtigen die Kommunikation nicht.

Now, honestly,  I bet you left the page before coming here, cause I'm so full of myself that the half would be plenty, but.. Let's say I am allowed to.. once.. a year? Deal? (twice a year if Universität Leipzig accepts me.)

Sounds like a plan? Hell, it's a plan. Have a great evening, everyone!