I just got back from a peaceful protest against nazism and all forms of racism. It was a peaceful demonstration until we were almost done. A nazi started shouting and hit a young girl who was peacefully listening to the speakers.
At the same time, the “Norwegian Defence League” was hosting a demonstration of their own. NDL is a group of racists who want to eradicate Islam and throw muslims out of Norway. They’ve had a nasty history with a lot of nazi members, and strong ties to their sister organization, “English Defence League.” The nerve of hosting a nazi demonstration on this day is unbelievable.
On a side note, when I tried to immediately upload this short clip, android whined about the file being large and needing wifi. The file was a whopping 21mb large, 22 seconds of hd video. Really, Google?
Anyhoo, demo was awesome, we were many, the nazis were few, and we won. Pics to come.
Song of the blog: Skambankt!
Yours truly
Bjørn
I just got back from possibly the best 3 hours of my life: an Elton John concert. The man is a God. Seriously. Okay, maybe I’m slightly delusional but something- no, everything about him speaks to my soul! The way he moves on stage (something in between a gremlin and hobbit), the way his short/stubby fingers caress the ivory keys, the way he belts out a note for way too long but somehow pulls it off….he is magic, I tell you. MAGIC!!!
I must admit, I have loved Elton for some time. Ever since high school when my friend introduced me to his amazing records, he’s been one of my favorites. And guess what, ya’ll…he played my favorite song tonight!
“And Jesus, he wants to gooo to Venus!
And leave Levon far behi-i-ind!
Take a balloon and go sailing,
While Levon, Levon slowly dies!!!!!!
He was born a pauper to a pawn,
On a Christmas day,
When the New York Times said God is dead,
And the war’s begun.
Alvin Tostig had a son today-aaaay-yayay!”
It’s so good. I’m not even joking you, I had a tear in my eye on some of his songs (i.e. “Candle In the Wind,” “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me,” and “Sorry Seems To Be the Hardest Word”). That could possibly be due to the fact that I am PMSing right now, but I like to think it has to do with the raw emotion only my Elty can accomplish.
And now, dear readers, I am off to bed! Tomorrow I must get up and get a haircut. I’m kinda rockin’ a mullet right now, so I definitely need it.
Peace out, and GOODBYE YELLOW BRICK ROAD!
Elaine
So it’s been a while. I’ve been thinking about what I want from BRBcoffee, and what you want, dear readers. That’s why I made that poll you see on your right. Sadly, the participation was low, and the results inconclusive. Therefore I turned to analytics, and found an interesting fact: You guys are crazy about unicorns.
Now, while I like unicorns, it’s not something I like to, or can, write about at length, so I choose to disregard that statistic, and instead I choose to focus on what I want, and what I want to give to the people who enter this humble corner of the web. Politics has taken an ever larger role in my life, as has music; I work at concerts at least once a week these days, and will be putting up more than a few of my own later this year.
The more perceptive among you will have gathered that I’m talking about a rebranding of sorts. We average at around 40 visitors per day now, and while I’m proud of those 40, I think we can go a lot bigger if we don’t spend quite so much time confusing them by writing with no coherence. When you blog, you’re supposed to focus on a niche, and if that’s a target, we’ve been shooting in the opposite direction, adding new authors and categories consistently, spreading ourselves thin. Most of our authors are what would be considered political radicals, and quite a few of us are in the Norwegian communist party, or it’s youth organization. You see where this is going, don’t you?
Now, without further ado, I present to you my glorious concept:
“BRBcoffee, the lives, thoughts, and coffeebreaks of the revolutionaries.”
Expect redesigns, fewer categories, and more offensive posts!
And now for a private public word with my cohorts. I know we’re not all revolutionaries, and some of you will probably disagree with this new concept. I’ll be sad to see you leave us for my egotism, and you’re more than welcome to stay and write. You can even write blatant right-wing propaganda, I’ll be happy for the discussion material. So, with me?
And to kick it all off, in Norwegian only, sadly, here’s my public speech on the data retention directive:
Ah, and our cat being cute.
Yes, our cat is also a revolutionary. Hers will be the claws that tear through the bullshit of the bourgeoise once and for all. Our cat is that badass. And her claws are very sharp. Seriously, ow.
Song of the blog: We Are Sex Bob-omb – Sex Bob-omb
Yours truly
Bjørn
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
How some women feel when stepping on the scale...
… is their weight. Some people say it’s their age, but weight is more of a touchy subject to most women as it is one thing that they have somewhat control over through dieting and working out. Age is (contrary to popular beliefs) uncontrollable.
Because women don’t talk about their weight I figured I should talk about weight. My weight, to be more presice. And this brings to mind another question to never, and I mean NEVER, ask one of your female friends…
The big and scary “Are you pregnant?”
Roughly a year and some months ago (right around christmas 2009) I was at the college I went to, in the cafeteria. Here I met a friend I hadn’t seen in some months, because he studied in England. We met, we hugged, we chatted, and then he dropped the p-bomb.
Why should you never ask a girl or woman if she’s pregnant?
1) If she is you just ruined her moment of surprising you. She’s the one with the alien in her stomach for 9 months, she gets to tell you about it.
2) If she isn’t pregnant you just told her she’s fat.
If a woman is wearing this shirt, you may ask her if she's pregnant. I think...
Additions:
1a) While stealing her thunder you are also reminding her that she’s fat. And will continue getting fatter.
2a) You also ruined her day, possibly week, possibly longer, and that delicious dinner she was planning is now ruined.
2b) Important: If she isn’t pregnant this question only leaves for one response (the one I had to my friend’s question…):
No, I’ve just gotten fat.
More than one year later I still have no problem with remembering the comment from my friend. I will have it said that I am not mad at him in any way, because if it hadn’t been for him I’d might never have started working out and dieting, and I wouldn’t have gotten all the health benefits from it. Also, I met him when I visited my sister in London 4 months later, and he made it all better by telling me I looked fabolous.
Why am I writing this?
First off: To brag! Obviously.
Second: To teach all you guys (and possibly girls?) to never ask you female friend if she is pregnant! I can not stress this enough. If you think she might be pregnant, wait for her to tell you herself. And if you think she has gained weight, and are a really good friend of hers, you can possibly comment on that, but I would advise you not to go there.
There we go, an entire entry about one of the top subjects a woman “never talks about”. And I’m a woman. How ’bout that!
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