Wednesday, 30 September 2009


Once upon a time in July, a Finnish lady tagged me for a meme. I was awfully excited about this, but due to not having an internet connection or even my computer at the hotel where I was staying, I thought it better to complete this meme thingy when I got back to Melbourne. Which was almost two months ago.

So shameful.

Aaaanyway. I'm doing it now. Happy?

The idea is to create 5 categories each containing 5 favourite items of said category but without necessarily being listed in any particular order. Did that make sense? It doesn't matter, you'll get the idea. Oh, and then you tag 5 other people to do the same thing.
Sort of like chain mail but without the vague threats of being unlucky in love for the next 7 years.

So here goes:

My 5 favorite (random) things:

1 Breakfast - My favourite meal of the day, every day. Though I've always enjoyed breakfast, my love for it didn't fully flourish until I moved to Canada and into a culture where going out for breakfast is not only something you can actually do, but is encouraged. Overwhelmed by this new option of having someone cook me eggs and then letting me pay them for it I started having breakfast as often as I could, substituting it for lunch and dinner whenever I could get away with it. Which thanks to a high number of cafes sporting all-day-breakfast menus was surprisingly often.
Ah, those were the days...

2 Finding things you don't expect - Like a twenty dollar note in your pocket or a new coffee shop that makes reeeaaally good coffee and has an all French staff or a mint condition Burberry trench for $200 in a thrift shop. Thank you universe, it's just what I wanted!!!

3 People watching - I know it's slightly pervy, but I love watching people when they're unaware that they're being watched. It's like being at the zoo. When I was 16 I lived in this apartment that if you sat in the windowsill you could see up and into another apartment located diagonally across the road. I used to sit there for hours (yes sadly, hours) staring up into that apartment and watching all the things going on there. It was all very mundane everyday things, no one ever got shot or anything but somehow that's what I liked about it (the everyday mundane stuff I mean. And yeah, I guess the no-one-getting-shot part as well now that I think about it).

4 Mail - Letters, postcards, care packages, or just things ordered online. I love receiving stuff in the mail. It's the only thing I can think of that still has a bit of that childhood sense of excitement normally associated with christmas attached to it.

5 Puppies - It doesn't matter if my day has consisted of being deprived of coffee, sleep and food all while being punched in the face repeatedly, stick a puppy in front of my eyes and all is forgiven. Puppies make the world go round. For realz.

My 5 favorite celebrity crushes:

1 Ricky Gervais - Because of "the Office"* season 1 and 2 and the christmas special. I have never known a love like this.
*British, not American

2 Jon Stewart - Because he makes politics sexy

3 Andy Samberg - Because of this and this

4 Hugh Jackman as Wolverine - I feel no need to explain this one. But I will anyway: Because lumberjack shirts and massive sideburns will always hold a place in my heart. And spank-bank. Forever.

5 Jennifer Connelly - Because if I ever had to have a full face transplant I'd hope hers was up for grabs.

My 5 favourite articles of clothing:

1 My Burberry trenchcoat - We were destined for each other and as if by sheer magic, everything else I own looks great with it. Even the dining table.

2 Leggings - Though always, always (I cannot stress the importance of this enough) worn with crotch and ass covering shirt/dress/skirt/dashiki.

3 High heels Because I walk better in them after a few glasses of wine and any excuse to drink more wine is an excuse worth making it on a list somewhere.

4 50´s style dresses Complete the look with pearls, a smile and a secret but raging alcohol addiction that is revealed in a humiliating manner after a drink too many at the Joneses dinner party.

5 Tracksuit pants What can I say, I'm a sucker for comfort.

My 5 favourite frequent food cravings:

1 Tuna sashimi When I was I kid I watched a documentary on Inuits, and I remember one scene where they were carving raw seal meat from a (surprise!) seal and eating it, sort of in the fashion my grandma used to eat an apple. I also remember not feeling grossed out but actually a little disappointed that I would probably never get to do that. And so far, I never have. But sometimes while eating tuna sashimi I close my eyes and pretend.

2 Scrambled eggs with parmesan cheese and chili flakes Scrambled eggs has been a constant food craving of mine since I was eleven. I just want to eat it all the time, something I think was hinted at in the "5 favourite random things" section. And if you add parmesan cheese and chili flakes before scrambling it magically get better. I didn't think that was possible.

3 Toasted and slightly burnt fruit loaf with insane amounts of butter As in obscene amounts. As in melted butter literally pooling and dripping of the piece of toast. Mmmm, butter...

4 Seaweed salad I think it's the texture. Whenever I see seaweed salad I need to own it. Then eat it.

5 Vanilla malt milkshake I usually and for some inexplicable reason think "loser" about people who when buying scoop ice cream or milkshake pick vanilla flavoured such. Why? Why would you pick vanilla when you can have chocolate or rum or honey dew melon flavour? I just couldn't see any reason for it. But something has changed. Maybe it's the added malt (which strangely I also used to despise), maybe it's the sign of my ever changing palette. I don't know. All I know is that I can no longer resist the siren call of the vanilla malt milkshake. And I don't want to.

My 5 favourite things that make my life easier

1 Dry shampooI hate washing my hair and now I don't have to and still manage to avoid smelling like a homeless person

2 GoogleHow did people live before google and not go insane from all the things they could not get the answer to immediately? How I ask you. But maybe I should just google it instead.

3 ClothesWhen growing up in Scandinavia they come in pretty handy if you want to make it to adult age.

4 FiancéKind of like google but at times more infuriating and with glasses.

5 Caller idI'm not a confrontational person. So I just screen.

And that's it!
That's all.

Now for the lucky 5:

1 Nancy @ f8hasit: Because her blog is funny and honest, and because she posted a photo of herself in a Peter pan collar.

2 Ladytruth over @ happily AFTER ever: Girl has Louis Vuitton heels and gay dates. Sounds like a good time to me!

3 Mysterg @ Meditations in an emergency: Because I want to, no need to know more about him. You hear me? Need.

4 Not so glamorous housewife @ Diary of a not so glamorous housewife: She knows how to knit a robot. I give cred where cred is due.

5 Dutch Donut Girl @ The world according to donut girl: A while ago she posted pictures of bedrooms from different German brothels and claimed they were sources of inspiration in her looming bedroom make over. What can I say? I like it.

Oh, and I just remembered. You can make up your own categories. Mix and match. Whatever floats your boat as they say.

I'm done.
Over and out.

Tuesday, 29 September 2009

If I were a bunny, where would I shop?

There is a store I pass every now and then that I have never once entered, and yet there is something about this particular shop that makes me slow down as I pass just to try and catch a glimpse of the items being displayed inside and more importantly, the people who buy them.

It's the playboy store.
Which, sadly does not retail tall, dark, handsome and financially affluent men but instead specializes in leopard print evening gowns, rhinestone everything and tennis skirt/knee sock combos.

While I'm no stranger to watching that trashtastic reality show featuring Hugh Hefner's girlfriends who are not his girlfriends anymore, I can´t say that I have ever, not even once while watching it thought to myself "Gee, that Holly Madison really is the epitome of style, now if only there was a way I could dress like her... say a store... a store that sold "girls of the playboy mansion" type things..."
No, I have never had that thought. Except for now, and even then it is only to make it quite obvious that I wouldn't, would not, produce such a thought.
Which is why it's so intriguing that that store is there. Because that has to mean that somewhere, someone is in fact thinking this, though perhaps phrased differently.

I'm not judging (...) I just want to know who these people are, where they're from, where they're planning to wear that pink spandex dress and if they, by any chance are the same people who when I worked at French Connection used to buy matching mother-daughter tops with a rhinestone embellished "fcuk" splayed across the chest. And if so, it's pronounced "effseeyoukay" and not "fuh-kawk". So stop saying that.

Friday, 25 September 2009

Old people is da shizzle

If I ever have kids, one thing I am never ever ever going to say to them as they're going through their teenage years is "be happy for as long as it lasts, cause it'll be the best years of your life".

Come again?

I don't know what kind of messed up reversed psychology this is supposed to be, but looking back knowing that this was the wisdom passed on to me by various adults, I am surprised that I didn't just drink a jug full of cyanaid kool aid right then and there.
I mean, seriously.

Maybe the people telling me this were captains of the cheer squad, sporting perfect complexions and suspiciously well balanced hormone levels, or maybe the years following high school, regardless of how traumatizing that experience might have been, were just even more disappointing and for some reason did not include you scoring a great job or you magically transform from nottie to hottie, but a rather badly timed pregnancy by some guy named Jonno who's mullet you vaguely remember brushing against your face during your Scorpions soundtracked one night stand and a dead end job that steadily eats away at your dreams and ambitions.

I don't know.

I just know that my teenage years were the most awkward, horrible and angst filled years of my life and I would never in a million years go back. Ever.
And come back in twenty five years and maybe I've changed or repressed enough facts to have changed my mind, but I truly enjoy ageing. I love getting older, getting better.

Young people can suck it.

Just kidding.

Thursday, 24 September 2009

Just an observation

My belief is that leggings are not called pants because they're not pants and should therefor not be used as such.

I'm sorry people, but I can't take this assault on my eyes any longer and I don't care if your leggings are printed to look like denim, the fact is they are not and it looks horrible when you pair these non pants with crop tops or really any garment that does not cover your ass and crotch area.

So yeah.
Just wanted to clear that up.

Monday, 21 September 2009

The bald and the beautiful*

Ah, the weekend has passed, the orangeness patchily subsided and once again I find myself on the couch, waiting for the week to begin...
And while waiting, indulging in a little "Days of our lives"-action.

The love/hate affair I have with daytime soap operas is not new but seems to come and go in waves, forever ebbing and flowing, pulling me in and releasing me from it's hypnotizing and possibly incestuous embrace.

At times (not all that surprisingly these times often coincide with the times of paid employment) I have not the slightest hint of interest for them, scoffing at the outlandish intrigues at hand and rolling my eyes while changing the channel and letting out a patronizing "puhleeze" under my breath.

And then there are other times, the less productive (and much more recent) times spent on the couch, where the windowless and apparently time warped existence of the Brady family casts me under it's spell and has it's way with me.
Then usually I have a little nap.

I do realize that I am but one pregnancy away from waving my hand in my child's face while yelling "Be quiet Lula-Mae, mama's watching her stories!!"
And as horrifying as that may seem, at least I'm not married to the half brother of my daughter.
At least not that I know of.

*This is what my fourth grade English skills lead me to believe was the title of that famous soap opera. It made sense to me at the time, but then again, so did over sized hypercolour t-shirts.

Wednesday, 16 September 2009

It is I, the Oompa loompa

Dear readers,

The person writing this is not the Josefine you know and are so very fond of, but a slightly more Hollywoodized and much more orange version of her.

Yes people.
I've done it.
I've had a spray tan.

Now, before you avert your eyes in disgust and mime sticking your fingers down your throat contemplating my vanity, I will say in my defence that this was a first (and quite possibly a last), and that it was done as a favour to a friend who's learning how to, ehr, spray tan people.

It should be stated that with the exception of my rather thick and very dark eyebrows and my dire need for some serious IPL, I do display the stereotypical traits of the Scandinavian. My hair is dark blond (or, roughly and literally translated from Swedish "rat coloured"), my eyes are blue/green and my complexion is very very very fair. With a sort of pinkish tint to it.
An unflattering tint, and one that despite years of trying to condition my skin into thinking otherwise, does not tan well.
Or at all.

So when I got a call yesterday asking me if I would be at all interested in having somebody practising spray tanning technique on my pale and very unready for bathing suit season body, I of course said yes.
I could picture it in my mind; me on the beach, all tan and glowing and somehow through a diet consisting only of wine chocolate and cheese, seem to have lost 5 kilos.
It was glorious.
And, as I believe I disclosed, a figment of my imagination.

In reality it turns out that Scandinavian complexion + spray tan = a look most recently sported by Magda, Cameron Diaz's kooky landlady in "There's something about Mary".
Or in the loving words of fiancé as he walked in the door:
"Wow. It makes you look... older

On the bright side, I won't be made fun of at work tomorrow.

You know, cause I'm unemployed.

The end.

Monday, 14 September 2009

There's a mucus party in my head and you're invited

Oh how glorious it is to wake up only to realize that your body has betrayed you and decided your skull should like totally host some kind of phlegm themed festival. Which then, in the way festivals do, escalates to the point where it's completely out of control and the phlegm has nowhere else to go but out my nose, and from the feel of it, soon out my eyes and ears.

It's also a beautiful feeling when this betrayal of the flesh coincides with the annual coming of spring and the glory of pollen.
Which for me means allergies.
Which, you guessed it, means phlegmfest '09 is one gift that will just keep on giving.
Oh joy of joys.

I feel like somebody has implanted one of those instant towels in my head and then left the water tap on and it just keeps expanding and it's not stopping and my eyes are bulging out from the pressure and I can't hear anything cause all the sounds are muffled and OH MY GOD, MOMMY JUST PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!!!!!!

My eyes are so itchy and my nose is all raw and irritated and whenever I walk past the mirror I wonder who put that poster against domestic violence up in my apartment.
Not cool.

So now, without further due, I will go drug myself into a coma and hopefully wake up looking a little less like I'm dating Chris Brown.

Thursday, 10 September 2009

Coffee, of all things I thought I could trust you...

No one drinks drip coffee in Australia it seems. It's all posh espresso machines and the cleverly named nespresso machines and stuff.
Which is fine. I love coffee and that love is of the kind that does not discriminate.
However, I have noticed that drinking a pot of espresso doesn't seem to affect me very much, and I can easily have more coffee during the day with no other side effects than my urine smelling suspiciously like a latte (too much information? I'm sorry, I just find it quite interesting how that happens... Maybe I should have my kidneys checked? I've never heard anyone else having this happen to them, but then again maybe most people don't find it necessary to fill people in on what their urine smells like. Unless they've had asparagus recently, which seems to be an acceptable excuse for talking about what you did on your visit to the lavatory).
Nothing else. No twitchiness, no extra energy, no feeling nauseous. Nothing.

What's up with that? I thought to myself.

And I'll tell you what's up:

Apparently drip coffee has more caffeine than espresso, for the simple reason that the water spends a lot more time hanging out with the coffee grind in a drip coffee maker than in an espresso machine.

I am so confused right now.
I mean it makes sense, the way most things do once you have them explained to you, and yet I feel as if I have been deceived.
How is it I didn't know this?
I feel ashamed.
I feel like if coffee was a person I would look at it with a hurt and puzzled look on my face and say something like "It's like I don't even know you anymore".
That's what it feels like.

Tuesday, 8 September 2009

On children and not having them. At the moment.

A while ago I read an article in the paper, stating that couples without children are generally happier and enjoy way better mental health than couples who have procreated.

Reading this article, all I could think was: "Well, duh.."

Despite my mother assuring me that I was a very good child, and a very good teenager, I can remember quite a few instances of being a complete asshole to my parents. A spoiled brat, whining and screaming and slamming doors, sulking and more often than not responding to the question "how was school today" by throwing a tantrum.
As you do.

It is obvious that in an effort to keep from feeling hate and resentment for her child, my mother has repressed memories of any such incident.
Which is kind of great news, since I do prefer her to keep loving me.

Being a parent a lot of times seems to mean putting up with all kinds of abusive behaviour that in any other kind of relationship would be pretty good grounds on which to tell the person in question to piss off.
That is however, in most cultures not considered good or even acceptable parenting technique, though I'm sure the children of Joseph Fritzel might have some objections to that statement.

I'm sure I will at some point in my life at least attempt having a child, considering fiancé's aversion to indoor pets and all, but a process that starts with not being allowed coffee, wine or soft cheeses for nine months only to be followed by being ripped apart from the inside by a small persons head?
As tempting as that sounds, I think I might have to pass.

At least for now.
But who knows, maybe it's like how I used to hate olives and now I really really like them?
Maybe all that stuff will seem like fun and exciting in a year or two.
Until then, I will continue to gorge myself on cheese and wine and maybe I'll throw in a bit of mercury laced salmon just for the thrill of it.

Wednesday, 2 September 2009

Excuses excuses excuses.....

I know I haven't been the most frequent of posters lately, and for this I apologize.

However, I actually do have a reason for this seeming lack of devotion, and a valid one at that.

As fiancé's mom is in the hospital for surgery, his dad is staying with us. This, I know, doesn't seem like a reason at all, and even less so a valid one, but just let me finish. Ok? OK.

Fiancé's parents had him quite late in life, he was what I suppose you'd call an accident if you wanted to be funny about it, which I often do. Fiancé's dad was 46 at the time of birth of his youngest son, which according to my calculations makes him a 78 year old man today. This is another useful piece of information as this enables me to make funny jokes about fiancé's parents obviously having relations even after 14 years of marriage and suggesting that this might still occur.
Iam aware that this is not so much a joke as it is deliberately making fiancé uncomfortable, but it's funny none the less.

Anyway, I digress.
So fiancé's dad is 78, and Italian and has pretty much worked his whole life while fiancé's mom has run the home and taken care of children and still managed somehow to be a successful artist, which is weird since I have no job and no children but still seem to only ever manage a pot of coffee and watching the occasional "the bold and the beautiful" episode before the day is over.

But that's besides the point.

What I'm getting at is that fiancé's dad, when faced with such tasks as grocery shopping or cooking, seems puzzled and confused, much in the same way I would if someone suggested I'd change the oil in a tractor.
I could probably do it, given enough time and instructions, but if given the choice I would gladly hand over the assignment to someone more capable than me.
He's never had to do these things, and it's easy to see how he is just a little bit lost without the woman who's been his wife for 48 years close at hand. They've come to depend so completely on each other for all those tasks they're each assigned, to the point where it's not only emotionally but also practically difficult to live without the other person.

Which is kind of lovely. And a little bit sad, somehow.

So anyway, that's the reason I'm a little bit absent at the moment.
I'm trying to prevent my father in law getting scurvy caused by a salami-only diet.
Thanks for understanding.