I suddenly realised it’s Friday and that I hadn’t heard from FridayFive.org. The questions are up, though, so here we go:
1. Explain why you started to journal/blog.
The first one was started as an alternative to a manual publishing of what I’d been reading lately. This one was started becasue Roger complained that the other one wasn’t very lucid on the theme of me.
2. Do people you interact with day to day or family members know about your journal/blog? Why or why not?
Some do. I don’t go around begging people to read it, but I talk about it in RL if it’s relevant to the conversation, so it’s not as if I’m trying to hide it either.
3. Do you have a theme for your journal/blog?
4. What direction would you like to have your journal/blog go in over the next year?
I want to move to Movable Type. I’m planning to do so this weekend in fact. Other than that… Well, new readers can be fun, but I quite like the light drizzle effect I’ve been having and I don’t think I particularly want a deluge.
5. Pimp five of your favorite journals/blogs.
Five, eh? arwen.org and Not So Soft, are both visited daily, no matter how busy I am. I have to swing by Jane’s Thotful Spot, too, or she’d wonder what I was up to. Sara Hatter was threatening to shut hers down, but it never happened, I’m glad to say (at least it’s not happened yet). Oh, and Joh, of course. Why does this list seem to look a lot like the “Blogs I read” list down there on the left, I wonder…
One of the Norwegian radio channels along with, of all things, a crisps brand, are on a search for the most romantic Valentine’s day message. If you feel so inclined you can send an electronic postcard to your loved one and copy it to the competition judges. For a start, this seems pretty weird to me. An electronic message composed in order to win a competition and sent to an actual person more as a sort of afterthought fails to impress me with any feeling of romance.
However, the greatest drawback is the prize. 10000 red roses (yes, ten thousand, I did not accidentally add a 0 or two). This might have seemed like a good idea at the time, but think about it… I like roses as much as the next girl, but what would I do with 10000? What, for that matter, would I do with 1000? I imagine 100 would make a pretty hefty bunch and I only have a dinky little vase (the large one currently being inhabited by a fish).
The going rate at Interflora is 40 nok per rose. I assume the people who are arranging this are not paying as much, however, even with a very conservative estimate the prize must be worth 50000 nok. Right. Could I trade 9990 of my roses for two plane tickets to the UK (6000 nok), train tickets to Hay (say… 1500 nok at the most), a few nights (ok, a week + the weekend, 9 nights) at The Famous Old Black Lion, lunch and dinner in the bar and champagne every evening (max. 2000 nok per night, and that would mean overeating at every meal), and the rest in spending money, please. Even in Hay, 24450 nok would last me a while (though with the right companion I guess I should say 12225 nok).* And that’s assuming I’d be generous enough to invite the person who thought the competition was a romantic way to send me a Valentine’s message, which is not at all certain. I’d have to have a ponder.
I don’t suppose 49950 nok would be enough for a limousine, but maybe we could rent one for a while? Or we could go to Scotland instead, you can get a lot of whisky for 12225 nok. Or Mauritius. I could probably do with some sun. Or we could do my kitchen and have money left for me to cook you a nice romantic dinner in it afterwards. The possibilities are endless. Except they’re not – you may not exchange the prize for money. It’s in the rules.
But I repeat, what would I do with 10000 roses? I’m not even sure I could fit them all into my flat, and they’d wilt so quickly even the whisky would last longer.
Of course, another serious accusation against the organisers is that “Tio tusen röda rosor” is the title of a Vikingarna song. For reminding me of that they deserve to walk barefoot over a bed of the roses they’re offering (on the assumption that it’s real roses with real thorns).
* The exchange rate to pounds is around 12 nok for 1 GBP, to US dollars it’s 8ish nok to 1 USD.
From the oddly lyrical:
I was meant for you
loving the machine
To the downright weird:
cards – Geek Myths quizes
I do like the phrase “motorcycle valentine”. Can you tell?
This was fun. I might just make it a Monday tradition.
If you’re the person who found this site using the search string “Narvesen Sewing Machine“, happening to drop in again, would you mind please explaining what you were looking for? Narvesen is such a well-recognised news agent brand name in Norway, that I have problems imagining what connection it could have to sewing machines. Thank you, that is all.
(ever eager to learn)
Today was a good day. I spent most of it moving some more furniture around (I partly rearranged the living room a week or two ago), tidied up a bit and moved some books around. I now have a few open spaces on my shelves (it won’t last) and the books are no longer heaped on top of each other in a space-saving-but-not-particularly-good-for-them manner. Hamsun is now next to * on the shelf instead of on top of him. Very good. As a result of the furniture rearranging, I now have more usable open space. Also very good. I even got around to vacuuming the floor.
Topped it off with a Trivial Pursuit evening. Perfect company, more or less. Two old friends and a potential new friend. Another person should have been there, but was prevented, which was unfortunate. Anyway, one can’t have everything, I suppose. As it was, I provided them with Meg’s Toucan Lasagne (delish) and red wine, playing at being the perfect host. Not quite perfect enough to let the guests win, though, as I was on the winning team. Well, at least I had a good time. No one else complained, but they may simply have been too polite to say anything.
The experiment will be repeated shortly. Preferably at a time when the missing person can be present. I might try another of Meg’s recipes. Based on the sucsess of the lasagne, I have aquired a profound respect for her culinary abilities.
I like cooking for company (whereas cooking for one is not much fun at all). I really need to get the kitchen sorted so that I can do more of it. At the moment it’s not very condusive to culinary excersions, and I therefore invite people over for dinner far less often than I would like.
Oh, and there’s lasagne left over for my dinner tomorrow. Ah…
Voice on the stereo: whatsername singing All by Myself (the Bridget Jones soundtrack)
I’ve just watched Waiting to Exhale (I also saw it in the cinema when it came out, it was on telly this evening), and the first half certainly has a lot of “I’d rather have a good cuppa” moments. Crikey. Anyhoo, I cried all the way through the second half, so I suppose that’s good. Or is it?
Well, at least the men weren’t all bastards. Most of them were, obviously, but not all.
Voice in my head: Whitney Houston singing Saving All my Love for You (which makes sense, seeing as she was in that sort of relationship for a while in the movie – though she threw the bastard over after a while, I’m glad to say. Whew, but he was sexy, though. Pity, that. Still, that whole “I’m doing what’s best for my child by cheating on my wife” act is rather off-putting, so I’m glad she threw his drink at him. Still…)
Untranslatable joke laughed at this week:
Må bjørnejegere betale bamsemums?
Voice in my head: female voice (don’t know who, whoever sings it on “The best Christmas album in the world, ever”) singing the “Come and trim my Christmas tree, with some decorations bought at Tiffany’s” verse from Santa Baby (yes, just that one verse) and Robbie Williams chiming in with “Straighten up and fly right, straighten up and stay right, straighten up and fly right, hoo-ton papa don’t you blow your top” as a refrain. (Is it “hoo-ton”, or “hoot on” or “who don”? I dunno. Something of the kind.) If you want me I’ll be in my corner muttering quitely to myself.
Valentine’s Day. It’s coming up.
Yeah, right, as if you hadn’t noticed, what with all the shops coming out with a “fluffy pink with hearts and chocolate” rash.
Anyway, Meg has created some wonderful anti-valentine cards that you may wish to send to your loved ones (or otherwise). I am certainly in the process of coming up with suitable recipients. Keep an eye on your mailboxes.
I took a test on some website where one of the questions was:
Within the past 6 months, how often did you use a seat belt when riding in or driving a car, truck or other motorized vehicle?
And the alternatives:
Rarely or not at all
Some of the time
Almost all of the time
Now, is it just me or is there a missing alternative here, as in ALL the time? I get into a car, I put on the seatbelt. This is a completely involuntary action, pure autopilot. Nevermind that we might be waiting for one of the other passengers and might sit in the car for half an hour before actually going anywhere, sitting in a car with no seatbelt on feels inherently wrong, so I just don’t.
Voice in my head: A very odd medley of “Yes, sir, I can boogie” in a squeaky girl’s voice and a scratchy Evert Taube recording of “Flickan i Havana”
1. What did you have for breakfast this morning? If you didn’t have breakfast, why not?
A pot of yogurt and some chocolate (the chocolate just happened to be there on the the table, I don’t normally have chocolate for breakfast, honestly).
2. What’s your favorite cereal?
Corn Flakes, I guess (Kellogg’s, has to be Kellogg’s).
3. How often do you eat out? Do you want that to change?
Somewhere around 3-4 times a month, and, no, that’ll do nicely, I don’t want to change it. Except I suppose if I were filthy rich I’d probably eat out more.
4. What do you plan on having for dinner tonight? Got a recipe for that?
Spagetti and crispy bacon. (Fry the bacon, which should be Swedish, smoked and very thinly sliced, to a crisp. Boil the spagetti (al dente). Drain the spagetti, then put it back in the pot and add an egg or two – stir until the egg has solidified. Serve with the crispy bacon. Yummy.)
5. What’s your favorite restaurant? Why?
The Bar of The Old Black Lion, Hay-on-Wye, Wales. The food is gorgeous. The cider they have on tap is unusual and very good. The staff is charming. The building is old and nice and cosy. Oh, and if I’m eating there it probably means I’ve spent the day browing Hay’s bookshops. Which all makes it deceptively close to heaven on earth.
Voice in my head: Whatsisface – “I Don’t Like Mondays” (oddly enough)