Amor vincit omnia

Why is love stories so appealing to people?
Personally, I don't care much for the romantic-comedy-teenage kind of love.
Stories about flirting, dating, fling-ing, one-night-stand-ing and other stupid things ending with -ing connected to superficial love stories. No.
What I do love (and deeply deeply hate) is stories with real and raw, uncovered everyday love. Strong love. Love that conquer struggles and throw away obstacles like they were yesterday's takeaway.
My mum and dad's love.

Let me make up an example to prove my point.

He is my all. Before him, I was only a half. Now. Me and him are two halves, we are a whole. I am still just a woman and he is still just a man. We still lay in bed. Its late and its early. He kisses me gently, like only he knows. I look at him again. I don't want to sleep, there's too much to see. He likes oranges. I like plums.  I feel his breath. Our bed is a ship, and we are sailing together. He is my all and I am his

Know what I mean jellybean?

Why do I hate stories like that? When they are utterly and completely wonderful,  filled with tenderness, and a childlike fascination, like they're seeing the world for the first time. And with a love, stronger than the smell of Gorgonzola in the morning.

Because, frankly they make me feel bad, and good at the same time. They make me tear up and get this feeling like someone bitch-slapped my heart and then told it to shut up. It gets cold, confused and bitter. It shuts down.

I think these feelings occur because I do not allow myself to hope that something like that will ever happen to me. That I have sort of accepted the fact that I might have fun,  for sure, and maybe get close enough to even care about someone. But never for a second truly believe that a love that pure, that vital, intoxicating and fantastic will come my way. No way.



Agape love, unconditional love, love in spite of, not because of.

YOLOSOCO, you only live once, so chill out!

Lemme tell ya'll one funny thing...sometimes, what you wish for, isn't really what you need or really what you want at all.
Especially when it comes to luuuuuuuv and relationships.
One night you're sitting alone, watching Bridget Jones in your pajamas  You have maybe had a little too much wine in Bridget's honor and that's when it happens, you start ranting about how much being single sucks right now and how nice it would be to have someone to cuddle with, someone to talk to, someone that gets you. The self pity is overwhelming and conquers all rational facts, Jane wants Tarzan, Jane needs Tarzan NOW.
What happen to the secure and confident woman you were yesterday? The one that loves the freedom of being young and single, and is generally mortified by the thought of being dependent on another individual.Hmm. Fucking A.

Then despite that every rational fiber in you body is telling you to chill out, to enjoy life to the fullest while you can and is nearly screaming at you; You want to be tied down?! Are you crazy?!... You still decides to be a go-getter, thinking; you can do this, you haz the powah. No more late dates with Miss Bridget...sorry girly.

And you do have the power. To be honest, it's not that hard go out, chat someone up, maybe dance a little and then... the infamous smooching. It's a crucial test, if he can pass it, well then maybe night can turn to day. Of course alcohol might play a tiny role in the whole "hey, wanna dance"-bit, but once you get passed it, it's all good from there. The real nerve breaker is the day after or at whatever time you decide to meet this person again.
The tall, handsome and totally H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S dude from the night before, can without the beer goggles have turned into a semi-tall, semi-handsome, and kind of boring and needy bloke. And he's of course all about you. Calling you all the time, sending cute messages, making himself very available and very unattractive. I'm a true believer that women likes to hunt and chase just as much as men do, but there's no fun in catching Bambi if he's already eating from your hand.

So what do a girl do? When all she wants is to snuggle up under her duvet, reconnecting with Miss Bridget, and the two men that's always been there for her and loves her unconditionally, namely Ben & Jerry.

Fyllechatting...

Ja, hva kan man si. We're all been there, haven't we? Du kommer hjem fra en fuktig og lite fruktbar kveld på byen. Det stikker litt i hjerterota, bittelitt ensom kanskje? Da fomler man seg selvsagt fram til alltid-tilstedeværende, varme og imøtekommende facebook...Så finner man seg et intetanende offer for dine slørete tilnærmelser, en gammel flamme, den kjekke naboen eller værst av alt, eksen. Så resulterer ustødig tasting og skjeve blikk på skjermen til en del skrivefeil og overly emotional sentences filled with neediness and that reflects just how empty and lonely you feel inside. Great. And then you have to wake up the next day and face facebook once again. Oh God. At what time and place was this a good idea?! Well, I seemed to think so when drunk at 4:30 am. Faen. I compared your cock to what now?! Duuuude..facepalm. Hele seansen er over ganske kjapt, men konsekvensene av den følger deg, gnager på sjelen din, og du gruer deg til å treffe vedkommende ansikt til ansikt. .Jeg vil derfor råde deg til å fyllechatte med noen du slipper å treffe hver dag, preferably en person som ikke bor i samme by eller land som deg selv. Da er du ganske safe. Ganske. Da slipper du å kjenne på skammen og awkwardnessen når du tilfeldigvis treffer ditt stakkars offer på Rimi. For mens du lener deg over frossenpizzanene, mellom Big One og Grandiosa, ser du plutselig i et splitt sekund din guilty pleasure from the night before. Dayum. Som den skitne overgriperen du er, smiler du et forsiktig og kleint smil og drar deg sidelengs mot kassa. That's not weird at all. Teeeeerrriifffic!!

Det som er greia med fyllechatting er at det egentlig bare er en light form of bootycalling. Hva er det du vil oppnå med å chatte, egentlig..to be honest...du vil ha oppmerksomhet, du vil ha nærhet, du vil høre at du er digg. Eventuelt også sex.
Fordi en uskyldig liten samtale om norsk utenrikspolitikk kan fort eskalere til å omhandle ekstremt kåte 19åringer i militæruniform, klare til å rive av deg klærene in a blink of an eye.
Da har texting become sexting. Nothing wrong with that mate, whatever rocks your...tanks.

Fyllechatting er definitivt a phenomenon that's going to stay, so why not make the best out of it, just take some precautions, or end up looking like a shallow, empty and lonely drunk. Cause we're not, aight? ;)

Procrastination

I'm the queen of a nation

procrastination

3am drinking poem

Friday is the party day
me and you, and chardonnay
gettin it on, getting it out
you and me
scream and shout

Hitting the clubs
Dancing, drinking
tosh tosh tosh
my heart is sinking

Lips touch, tounges smoosh
God I hope
he's not a duche

Either you're with us
or you're nuts
norwegian girls..
no, we're not sluts!

We just like to have a good time
a drink or two, a beer, and wine!
where the fuck's my jegerbomb!?
damn it girl, I'm gonna get me some

Come at me bro
I got your back
snogging, bouncing
until you crack

short ones, long ones, big ones too
I like em stiff and posh
how about you?