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Heyoo.
I come to your computer screens this evening firstly to procrastinate from writing a 6 page essay on nationalism, secondly to tell you about what a marvelous couple of weeks I’ve had.
It all started last thursday. I went down to my basement storage compartment to get the inflating air-matress I keep there. I arrived to the sight of my lock gone, my air-matress gone, my entire DVD-collection gone, and one of my moms suitcases. The basement floor was also covered in water, I’ll get back to that. So after a moment of “WTF” I accepted that my storage compartment had been broken into and I had been robbed. I went into the city to talk to the police (my case has been rejected as unsolveable. Thanks, useless norwegian police), bought a new padlock and went home to lock up agian.
When I returned, i noticed that while robbing me, the thieves had tumbled one of my cases of books, scattering them on the floor. On closer inspection, I saw lots of books ruined by water-damage. Worst day ever!
So I called the student-collective place I rent from, and they told me to take pictures of the ruined books and mail it to them with a list of them, and they would pay me back. So I did, and the monday after the weekend I got a responce saying the wouldn’t cover my damaged books after all. Argueing did not help.
It does get even worse, though. Because Oslo, as most cities, has a public transportation system. You get a fancy card, which lasts for one month at the time. Every month, you buy another month of travel. And there are fancy beeping machines on the busses and trams, that you beep your card infront of to activate tickets or something like that.
Well, when I moved to Oslo, I read that they could not give tickets to people for not beeping their cards every time, which was judged in court. I was also told that I didn’t have to beep my card by friends. But apparently, unlike in every other city in Norway, the month of travel-time you buy isn’t activated when you buy it, but when you beep your card on a machine. I had no idea, so I still got a ticket.
So it appears that Oslo has realized I’m here to stay, and is trying to reject me like a virus. But as a guy who won norwegian Idol a few years ago, had one hit, got booed of stage and now is a nobody once sang, I’m standing tall!
I can’t get the embed video-thing working, so here is an anticlimactic link instead.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HW_siSnPWqs
Vegard
Once upon a time, in a faraway and distant land, I wrote a blog all about the changing face of Jimmy Page. I come to you today to talk about a startling development I became aware of last Monday: Ralph Macchio’s face.
Some of you are, perhaps, unaware of who Ralph Macchio even is. For that you should be ashamed, but who am I to judge, eh? Macchio was the shining star from the amazing 80’s movie franchise known as “The Karate Kid.” He somewhat faded from public view in the years following the movies’ success, but he has recently resurfaced on the soul-sucking show “Dancing with the Stars.” When I sat myself down to watch the season premiere yesterweek, I nearly pissed myself when it came time for Macchio’s dance. By no means was my near-soiling caused by amazing dance skills or horrendous missteps, instead I was amazed at how little his face has changed in the past 30 years!!! What I am about to show you may not make sense, but I assure you- it is real.
Age 15-ish Age 50, that’s right, 50!!!
Now, when I make the claim that his face has hardly changed in 30 years, it is not simply with the intent to give him a kudos. No, indeed, I have serious concerns that Ralph either sold his soul to the devil or is an alien. Equally viable, these are the only possible explanations I can possibly come to. I must admit, I am deeply disturbed. Almost more disturbed than I was with Jimmy Page’s transformation into an elderly Chinese man. Almost. (Click here to read said blog and laugh/weep your little hearts out.)
Gah! I just can’t stop staring at the side-by-side comparison! Did he have more wrinkles in the before pic? What the hell is going on?!
My little blog friend, how I have missed thee.
What has happened to BRBcoffee? It seems the “honeymoon phase” is over. I occasionally feel obligated to post something on here, but no topic ever really seems worthwhile. And by worthwhile, I mean me putting forth a mere 30 minutes of my time to write something slightly sarcastic, related to unicorns, or slightly depressing. That being said, today I would like to talk about happiness.
Happiness is a fickle thing. It is nothing without sadness. The heights of joy influence the depths of sorrow, and vice versa. This sounding a bit too Mr. Miyagi for you? Let me explain myself using various examples:
Let us say you are underfed on a regular basis. You therefore expect to be hungry often. Going a day without food doesn’t seem like a big deal to you, but getting extra food once a week is a joyous occasion! Now, let us say you overeat on a regular basis. You therefore never experience the pangs of hunger. Going a day without food seems like pure torture, but getting extra food once a week is hardly even noticed. See what I mean? Our past experiences of high and low, pleasure and pain, define our future likelihood of being happy or being sad.
Let me share a personal example. Whenever I go to my grandma’s, I am enveloped in a world of absolute love, respect, and all the things which make a person happy. The more time I spend there, the more I get used to living such a life. Then, I come home to a house where, let me say, that isn’t the case. Sure, many people would find my living situation to be a fine one, but when I have to come back from that high of being at my grandmother’s, it seems like a crap shoot. It’s somewhat painful to experience that transition- I assume it’s like coming down off a powerful drug high.
My question is as follows; is it better to experience the absolute highs of life and to constantly judge your happiness accordingly? Or is it better to have low expectations of what can be and draw happiness from lesser things?
According to this study by the University of Michigan, the top five happiest countries in the world are Nigeria, Mexico, Venezuela, El Salvador, and Puerto Rico. I therefore nullify my previous question and come to the conclusion that happiness = living near the equator and worshipping soccer.
Adios Amigos!
Greetings, glorious gonads
Gonna get going, gobstopper
Alright, I can’t write an entire blog entry with only words starting with the letter G. But it’s one of those things you have to try at least once.
What is this greatness I refer to in my title? Well, my
[poll id=”40″]
has agreed to lend me his awesome
[poll id=”41″]
, and I’m gonna drive that thing all the way from my current place of residence (being Oslo), to Stavanger to get my speakers and my bass and stuff. Woo!
That is all.
Vegard
A loud and glorious hello!
Chillin’ at the Youth against EU office (an organization which I am as of one month ago in the central board of), I decided to run an entry in the organizations blogg, which I wrote about 2 weeks ago, through google translate. Well, the resulting text turned out so brilliantly that I thought I’d post it here, so I can pretend to update regularely. Wall of text-time!!
“Hello good people.
I am Vegard, one of two bodø residents of the central board. Such stands
great respect. This week, it’s already my turn to blog, and
I’ll tell the story starts on Youth against EU office last
Tuesday.
For once I did not get to the office to find Jonas sitting
alone with lots of accounts ahead and thump thump music (eds. bit-pop) in the speakers.
As the day went and the relatively normal work hours glei past,
most people went home. Only three people remained in the office, namely
me, Angelica and Jonas.
We concluded that we should do something cool and socially, and Jonas had
mysterious heard rumors of a quiz on one of the local water holes, where
sometimes older gentlemen hanging and gulp down a barrel at the barrel of
adult soft drink of the best black. I’m talking of course about the shack!
Wherever we went, with stars in her eyes and faith and hope in your heart. We lose
Never stand on one of the posters hanging on the office wall, and this
tank followed us into enough shack, and guess if it failed!
The first round did the hopeful trio if the group name was Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtles to scrape together the pipe of 2 points, out of about 30
possible, and came to a proud 11 space of 11 possible. Joy roar
and High Fives were a lot of the corner of Bula, where we have three
mukterer set, and we were sure: the next round, which was called “Trivia”
where we take us back! And guess if we did, we were able to answer right
on so many issues that we still had an impressive two points after this round
too. Not without reason we changed group name to “the relatively untalented”.
Last round was even worse. We pride ourselves three European opponents must have
escaped us into a fierce debate about Dublin 2 Convention and the
headless immigration policy leads to, for suddenly the man said on the
speaker “now comes the last song in Round 3.” Of course, we reacted
all dedicated kvissdeltakere do: Huh? Has the round started? We
apparently got a consolation point when the points were counted, we had
sharp 3 points. Of the 70 possible.
After the last round, we changed its name to “Gamer we do not golf?”. We got
minimum points, hence we won the somewhat unorthodox popkviss-round. We lose
Never!
C’mon c’mon all veia from Youth against EU office.”
Nice, huh?
The name of the game is figure out what the story actually is.
Vegard!