Anna Karenina and the simple life

The biggest conspiracy of all times?

2010-05-02T20:58:00.007+02:00

Did you know that Hitler Jugend was founded the 04. July in 1926? This is not the only co-incidence the American history has with Nazism, can you see what and the Nazis and the Statue of liberty have in common:

Déjà vu!

2010-04-30T12:02:00.008+02:00

For more than 20 years ago my Jewish boyfriend Frank was so anxious to see me that he forgot to fill gas on his car. On his way from Paris to Biarritz he ran out of gas, had to walk 1000 kilometers to the nearest gas station, but he made it, we got to spend 3 hours together before I had to leave the sweet life of the Bay of Biscay.

For a month ago I was in Paris, and as always, my Jewish boy Olivier invited me out. This time he wanted to show me Paris by night, and yes, Paris by night was as wonderful as for 20 something years ago. But then, at 02.00 in the morning, my Jewish boy ran out of gas. “Well, fortunately you have a hybrid car, you can always drive on the battery, can't you?”

BUT THERE WAS NO ELECRTICITY LEFT EITHER! My Jewish boy is a man so there was no need for sister solidarity. I went back to my hotel, and gave him the pleasure of finding a taxi and a gas station that was open by himself. He got home 2 hours later.

What are the odds to run out of gas and electricity at once? Hey, let's make this even harder, what are the odds of running out of gas and electricity TWICE in one month?

My Jewish boy called me the other day and told that he again had run out of gas and electricity on his hybrid Prius. Gosh, I thought that he was a very intelligent young man, what on earth can be the reason that he keeps running out of gas and electricity while having a company Total card in his wallet?

For my Jewish boy I am the funniest girl he has ever known, maybe this is his attempt to be funny, too. Well, he succeeded, I laughed and called him funny. Or did I say ridicule?

Expert comments

2010-02-09T14:35:00.002+01:00

The other day on the radio there was an interview with a children’s psychiatrist who had researched children’s suicides for 8 years. After the 8 years of researching she had come to a conclusion that the reason why children commit suicides is loneliness and bullying.

8 years!!!!!!!

I have just applied funding for a 7 year project “Why do people prefer to wear left foot shoe on left foot and right foot shoe on the right foot”.

More burka or How to get rid of your husband, part 2

2010-02-09T14:18:00.003+01:00

Danes are again discussing some of the very essentials topics in the society; should we forbid the use of burka in public. I couldn't care less what people are wearing, but there is one thing that is interesting in the new legislation proposal. Anyone forcing someone to wear burka can risk up to 4 years of prison.

From tomorrow I will start wearing a burka and say that my husband forces me to wear it. As none of us is a Muslim, the Danes will be totally outraged. My husband will probably get a couple of extra years on top of the 4, see you in 2016, honey!

9 vs 11 cm

2010-01-26T09:04:00.003+01:00

Any girl knows that size matters; there is a huge difference between the tiny two centimeters, going from 9 to 11 centimeters.

Any guy who doesn’t get this, well, you should try yourself!

For years I have sworn that 9 cm is just the right size for me; it guarantees the ultimate satisfaction by giving me the perfect balance and making me feel very feminine.

Along came a Jewish boy and made me change my mind. Now I am definitely a 11 cm girl, and a happy owner of Jimmy Choos. Amongst the possible models, the Jewish boy chose these ones:

Men, hommes, miehet, mænd!

2010-01-19T09:29:00.000+01:00

I like to take long walks in the evening whenever I have time. The other day my husband wondered if I went to meet someone on my walks. Heavens! He never wonders about my Paris trips even I tell him about the fantastic restaurant Olivier took me to. He doesn’t worry at all even I just have been to Africa for 3 weeks camping with 6 Italian guys. But if I am seeing someone in my little village!

(Just like MY village people, yeah, my husband should be worried!)

Back on blogging!

2010-01-16T22:41:00.006+01:00

Why write a lot of nonsense on one’s blog, when you can have a Jewish boy reading all your nonsense and hear him laughing all the way from Paris to Copenhagen? It is called grateful audience and it is very difficult for a girl let go when she finally finds a man who understands her humour.

I couldn’t help trying to find out if my dear Olivier is a man behind his words, “….quand je rencontre une femme comme toi, je donne tout ». I already had asked him to bring me a Statue of Liberty from New York, which he did without any complaints. When I left for Africa, missed my flight to Burkina Faso and stranded in Paris, I called the Jewish boy to come and rescue me from airport suicide, and what does he do? He brings me a box of chocolate from La Maison du Chocolat (any sucker who never heard about this, it is the best chocolate in the world!), and suddenly the one day delay for my Africa adventure wasn’t that bad at all.

When I got back home, I decided to go a step further. I asked the too-much-travelling Olivier to get me a pair of Jimmy Choo boots next time he is out of town. He had to admit that these boots were indeed very, very beautiful (not only he understands my humour, he also shares my taste in shoes!), but that HE WOULD NEVER PAY 750 EUROS FOR A PAIR OF BOOTS. What? He is single and has a great job, what is 750 Euros for him? I had even made him a budget; if I come to Paris 3 times in 2010 and he invites me out for dinner every time à 250 Euros = 750 Euros = Jimmy Choo Boots (but no dinners).

I guess it is just a matter of principles. I would neither NEVER pay 750 Euros for a liter of gasoline.

(The most beautiful boots in the world!)

« Tu es vraiment très drôle, j'adore! »

2009-11-30T16:29:00.000+01:00

No, it wasn’t my mother-in-law who said it. When I am funny she lifts her eyebrows and asks loudly if I am drunk.

Still, the weirdest couples, the most wonderful duets…

Money for nothing……and chicks for free?

2009-11-10T22:13:00.003+01:00

I have spent 2000 kr for vaccinations and malaria pills today, and I haven’t even left the country yet! I am so mad, and I let my Jewish boy feel my anger.

My Jewish boy is a pharmacist, he is very aware of the medical costs and also of my economic situation being always interested in what kind of shoes I have been buying lately. So I wrote him today that he should have warned me about the cost of the medical preparations for my Africa voyage. And I told him that knowing this, he should have given me the choice of choosing between the expensive dinner or taking the money he spent at the restaurant in cash instead. If I had known the vaccinations being a total rip off, I could have settled with eating a Big Mac and kept the 200 Euros for myself.

Gerald, adorable!!!!

Très chère...

2009-11-09T09:16:00.002+01:00

...c'est encore moi!

Paris, la ville de l’amour or 4 reasons to go out with younger men

2009-11-07T16:56:00.006+01:00

1) In attempt to impress the older woman, the young boy will take you to a very fancy and expensive restaurant.

2) If you ask the young boy to bring you a Statue of liberty from New York, he won’t for one second wonder why, but just do as you ask. If a lady wants a Statue of liberty, she is going to get a Statue of liberty! My son is also a young boy and he won’t for one second wonder why I bring him a Statue of liberty from Paris.

3) Young boys are tenacious. Even if he has just arrived from NYC in the morning, been at work the whole day and not slept in 24 hours, he will keep you company as long as you wish to profit his Carte Bleue.

4) You can be as serious or weird as you want, it will only be considered as funny. Though I wish that my Jewish boy for once would take me seriously when I ask him to fix me up with one of his quite wealthy uncles. I realized that the sweet Olivier after all isn’t the love of my life, but I am quite sure one of his uncles is.

PS. Is is totally impolite to ask a guy to define "quite" wealthy?

Belle Blonde aux yeux marines...

2009-11-01T16:22:00.002+01:00

...oui, c'est moi!

Tour de….trois villages

2009-10-31T22:44:00.002+01:00

I love biking but I have always said that I would for nothing in the world participate Tour de France. Today I changed my mind, I wished that I had been in Tour de France and not on my usual Tour de trois villages. My bicycle punctured, and I had to walk 8 km home.

If I had been in Tour de France, there had been a maintenance car right behind me fixing the bike.

Three things to do before I die

2009-10-27T12:28:00.003+01:00

I have never driven a car in Paris, but every time I sit in a taxi around Arc de Triomphe, I feel an awful urge to ask the taxi driver to let me take over. It just seems to be such a challenge, like driving in New York or in Bangkok, and I have decided that I will face these three challenges before dying.

Next week I am going to Paris, and I count on getting down with the Paris part. The unsuspecting Olivier has invited me out and instead of meeting him at the restaurant, I asked him to come and pick me up at my hotel in his car.

Amongst all the stupid things I have managed to say to my Jewish boy, I guess nothing will surprise him any more. So when I ask him to give me the car keys as God wants so, he will immediately hand them over.

Despite the 3 billion cars at Arc de Triomphe, I am not even nervous at all. It is a company car, so who cares if I have a little accident. And even if I fuck up Olivier’s car totally, it can only be partly my fault. The circus at Arc de Triomphe is the only place in France where any accident is always 50/50.

Theories...

2009-10-26T21:41:00.006+01:00

My French teacher said that in France it is the upper class that profits most from the health care system. Unlike her theory that the upper class is better fit to fight against the system, I could see totally different reasons for this.

According to my theory, the difference is men. We all know that men won’t go to a doctor, no matter how sick they are, it is always the wife who has to force the husband to seek for medical care. But if the woman is married to a low class, poor man, she cannot see any reason sending the husband to the doctor. Instead she hopes that the illness will kill the man so she can go and get a better husband.

But if the man is rich and successful, it is also a guarantee for a certain life standard, and of course the woman doesn’t want the husband kicking the bucket. So if the hardworking husband is showing any sign of not being able to make so much money because of an aspiring disease, the woman will definitely take care that the husband is treated immediately.

My husband is wondering about a big tumor in his neck. I keep telling him it is not a big deal.

(Please tell my husband to stop worrying, it is propably only genetic.)

I wish…

2009-10-21T17:30:00.002+02:00

…that I was a black woman called Fatima Abdullah. Then I wouldn’t need to work, I could just say that it is impossible for me to get a job because of my skin color and the name.

Hun-Ulven-Ilsa

2009-10-19T20:27:00.007+02:00

I guess I could make it to Guinness book of records with the weirdest nicknames; Miss Domina, Ma Petite Foie Gras and today She-wolf-Ilsa.

WHAT?

Hm…when googling for a good illustration, I found this one. NOW I UNDERSTAND! And I tried just to be funny...

PS. But even more worrying, is the guy calling me Ilsa really seeing this kind of films?

Compliments or insults?

2009-10-14T15:18:00.003+02:00

Someone just called me “Ma petite foie gras”. Cannot figure out if this is a compliment or an insult. Am I as delicious as foie gras or fat as foie gras?

Must be the latter one. In Berlin a German lady asked me for help finding a street and I told her I was just a tourist. She said that I looked like Berlin.

And I prefer looking like Berlin and not like a Berliner. Claudia Schiffer must have a genetic default; no German girl looked like her. Rather be almost lesbian amongst beautiful Danes than real lesbian in Germany.

PS. The guy who called me “Ma petite foie gras” thinks that Claudia Schiffer looks like a horse. Boy, isn’t he weird!

Ich bin ein Berliner!

2009-10-12T12:57:00.005+02:00

Berlin, ugly as hell, but what a cool city! Travelling is learning and again I have learned many important things after my week-end in Berlin. Here are top 5 travelling tips to Berlin:

1. Empty your husband’s wallet for Euros. If you are lucky like me, you find several hundreds of them, and don’t need to use your Visa card while shopping. This in return will impress your husband, still not aware of the missing Euros in his wallet.

2. If your travelling buddy lands a couple of hours later than you, go shopping, use all your money, and the day after you can settle being just your friend’s personal shopper.

3. Don’t empty a bottle of champagne before going to opera, Violetta’s suffering isn't suddenly that dramatic at all.

4. Do take a double espresso at the first pause at “La Traviata”. Then you can continue straight to a techno party for the rest of the night.

5. Drink in general a lot of champagne, then you can even dance to techno music.

At the Burkinese Embassy

2009-10-05T16:52:00.008+02:00

For years ago on holiday in Gambia I saw a funny traffic sign; “Watch out for sleeping policemen”. Today I had a déjà vu at the Burkinese Embassy, though the sign should have said “Caution sleeping embassy”.

I have never felt so transparent in my life; it is like the lady taking care of my Visa application had just smoked a joint and fallen into emotional coma.

“What should I write on this line?”

“What ever you feel like, it doesn’t really matter…”

“How about this one?”

“It doesn’t really matter either…”

“Well, here is the money; it was 240 kr, right?”

“Yeah…you get the receipt when you pick up the visa.”

“It was 240 kr right (me expecting to get some change back as I had given her 2 notes worth more than the 240 kr) ?”

“Yeah… (and putting my money, which was definitely more than the 240 kr, on top of many other western suckers’ visa applications)”

I have a feeling I will never get my change back. I have also a feeling that I will never see my passport again.

Principles!

2009-09-25T21:08:00.007+02:00

I have a principle, I never buy plastic bags. When I do grocery shopping, I always carry around huge IKEA shopping bags which are very practical as a whole shopping chart can be fit in two big IKEA bags making the transportation very practical (why carry around ten small plastic bags when you can carry around two huge bags weighing 260 kilos each!).

Today on the way home I had to do some emergency grocery shopping but didn’t have a plastic bag with me. I simply refuse to pay 2,50 kr for a plastic bag, so I went to a shoe store, bought a pair of boots and got a plastic bag FOR FREE to go with the boots.

Then I did my small groceries and saved 2,50 kr for not needing to buy a plastic bag.

Great...guess what my in-laws are gonna have for Christmas!

Daydreaming

2009-09-25T08:57:00.008+02:00

On my Visa application to Burkina Faso I have to sign under that I won’t do this and that during my stay, including WORKING AS AN AU PAIR GIRL.

Hm, this is a tough one, I have always dreamt of working as an au pair girl in Burkina Faso. But I guess I have to give up realizing this dream, just as the one having sex with Hemingway.

PS. Now I have a new fantasy. I am having sex with Hemingway while I am working as an au pair girl in Burkina Faso.

Girlfriend confessions

2009-09-23T09:09:00.002+02:00

What do you know? Not very much, not even people you thought you knew. An old friend just confessed me things that would make Lady Chatterley blush.

Nothing will ever surprise me again. If my husband tonight tells me that he is a Chinaman undergone plastic surgery in attempt to escape Mao’s secret police, I will probably only shrug my shoulders.

Marital talk

2009-09-18T11:28:00.005+02:00

After 20 years I have barely anything to talk about WITH my husband. This is a typical conversation between us during a normal working day:

Around 6 pm

“Hello husband, did you have a nice day at work?”
“Yes wife, how about you?”
“It was fine.”

Some five hours later

“I am going to bed, good night husband.”
“Good night, wife.”

But when I go out for a coffee date with an old copain, I can talk ABOUT my husband for three hours.

PS. If my husband has left a wine prop on the table, put my bra in the tumble drier or the scissors in the wrong drawer, the daily conversation is supplemented by a short monologue from my side. I don't think my husband is listening or is he just extremely stupid making the same mistakes again and again?

How to tell a person is a Jew

2009-09-16T21:34:00.012+02:00

I don’t’ know what this business about the Jews is in my life at the moment. First my French Jewish boy, then a friend telling he started studying French Jewish literature, and the guy I went to the DR season opening with turned out to be Jew, too (and I have known him for 10 years without knowing!).

I remember when I was an aupair girl in Versailles and told my host family about Frank for the first time. When they heard his family name, they said right away “Oh, he is Jewish!” When I got back to Finland, I showed a friend of mine some pictures of Frank, and she promptly said “My God, he is a Jew!” How could they know just by the name and the looks? I had to sleep with him to find out.

Today I am some wiser than for 20 years ago, now I could tell my concert pal being a Jew just by hearing his mom’s maiden name, Katz.

But how I found out that Olivier is Jewish, that I haven’t the faintest idea of. I must have commented while sharing mojitos with him at 4 o’clock in the morning that thank God the Jews killed Jesus so I can sit there and sin at least for one more hour.

(One of the pictures of Frank I showed to my friend)

Drop your Prozac!

2009-09-13T12:46:00.002+02:00

Feeling depressed, fat and ugly? There is a cure right at your hand and no need to spend millions on your shrink and Prozac. Instead do just as I do, go to ALDI supermarket. People working and making their grocery shopping there are so extremely unattractive, that you will feel like America’s next top model.

And if you also feel stupid, try socializing with the employees. You will leave the supermarket convinced about getting the Nobel Prize in chemistry one day.

My first, my last, my everything

2009-09-12T22:20:00.008+02:00

My first LP was with Elvis Presley, in fact my first five records were with the King. While my friends were listening to Spandau Ballet or Culture Club, I cried with my early teenage heart to “Always on my mind”.

Elvis is still there, not every day, but occasionally in many moments of nostalgia.

And Elvis will be there until the end. There will be no psalms in my funeral but this one:

Dear God....

2009-09-11T09:04:00.011+02:00

...I know it is not in my hands to decide when I have to leave this earthly paradise, but please don’t take me before January. There are simply too many good things coming up!

Berlin! No clients, no family, just me and an old friend, thousands of shoe stores, lots of giggling and La Traviata! My travel buddy said that the only concern will be chasing away all the interested guys. WHAT CENTURY IS SHE LIVING IN?

Hush concert! Even I would prefer to share this one with the Jewish boy, a good girl friend will definitely do.

Paris! And I can tell all about the concert to my Jewish boy.

Sergio! Coming to see me (bringing the wife along though, can't get it all).

Mr P! Coming to fill up my chocolate storage.

Africa! Or...? Is Gianni’s wife still threatening with divorce? What’s the big deal with one’s husband sharing a tent for a couple of weeks with la bionda finlandesa. I wouldn’t mind at all if some crazy woman took away my husband and gave me two weeks sleep free of his snoring. I would even pay a considerate amount of money if the lady wanted to keep my husband.

So God, let me have all this, and then in January you can come and get me, just in time before my French exams. To be sure that I don’t die before January, I won’t open any of my French books this fall; they beat even Hanan Ashrawi’s biography with the most boring content ever. And that would be an awful way to go, to be bored to death.

Angry Palestinians, listen up!

2009-09-06T17:32:00.005+02:00

No suicide bombings this week, my Jewish boy is attending a wedding in Israel!

In fact I thought that Olivier was dead as I haven’t heard from him for a while. When I don’t hear from people for a long time I expect them to be dead as I cannot see any other reasons for people ignoring me. So evidently I wrote back that I was happy him being alive, still at least, never knowing what happens when one travels to Tel Aviv. I did not write him about the statistical fact that Jewish wedding parties are a favourite goal for angry Palestinian willing to blow themselves in thousands of pieces.

I like wedding parties, unfortunately there is no one around me getting married. But if there were parties for divorces, I would be busy all week-ends.

PS. I am sure some people have big divorce celebrations. Like Heather Mills…well done girl, even with just one leg!

Career choices

2009-09-05T22:47:00.009+02:00

I went to the season opening at DR concert hall last night, hm...made me think. It wasn’t Rachmaninoff, nor Liguti that made me philosophic but watching the members of the orchestra; once again I felt that I have made some bad career choices in my life. I would very much like to go through life with minimal effort still having a comfortable life, and seeing people succeeding in this pisses me off.

No, I would for nothing in the world be the hard working conductor who was jumping up and down so energetically that I expected him to get a heart attack any minute. Instead I would very much like to be the CYMBAL player. Do you know how hard he worked during the 2 hour concert? Exactly 6 seconds. I might not be fair now; it also took some time to prepare the act; take the cymbals up, wait for the fatal sign, PAM, and put the cymbals back to the rack again. So in fact the 6 times he clashed the cymbals together during the evening were a result of hard work of 66 seconds.

Being a cymbal player beats even being an assistant referee in football.

PS. Go DECO (the best football player in the world)!

Schopenhauer sucks

2009-09-02T17:35:00.011+02:00

Schopenhauer (1788-1860) was a fool without comparison; he claimed that women are by nature meant to obey and that humans shouldn’t fall for hedonism. But what is there in life if not trying to find pleasure in things we do?

No, we should definitely go after pleasure, the problem is staying in the moment long enough to enjoy it before starting to want more.

Like today. It has been a wonderful day, I have been chatting with Søren Stryger about the motivational speaker business. I should be thrilled but all I can think about is when will I get a client who can afford George Clooney.

Birthday!

2009-08-31T16:12:00.004+02:00

Despite the 42 years disappointments, I keep believing that something wonderful could happen on my birthday. So this morning at the office, a black guy dressed in handyman clothes enters. He comes to my desk and begins to take his jacket off:

“Hello, I am David”

“My God, did the girls get me a stripper for my birthday!!

“What? I came to put up the new radiator.”

“Oh, I thought you were a stripper…”

He could see how disappointed I was:

“Come on, not so sad, it is your birthday!”

Then he sang Stevie Wonder’s “Happy Birthday to you” for me. Well, can’t get It all!!

PS. Today I have learned a very important lesson; there are things you can’t change, you might need to change yourself instead. As all the faithful readers know, I love white flowers and this I have been trying to tell my husband now for 20 years. So what did my husband send me today? Red flowers. From now on I will hate white flowers and love any other colour.

Germans…

2009-08-29T13:50:00.003+02:00

I am not the only one thinking that Germans aren’t very attractive people. Even Germans themselves don’t find other Germans very desirable.

I just saw a statistics about the number of sexual partners one has through the life, and while Finns have 12,4 and Danes 9,3 partners in average, Germans find each other so repulsive that they settle with 5,8 partners.

Finding a man

2009-08-28T10:06:00.005+02:00

I have a female colleague at work, a 37 years old single, a pretty girl, who just doesn’t seem to have any luck finding a man. She complains about never meeting anybody, and wonders where I always meet the guys I am talking about (but only talking as I am married and not promiscuous). It is a fact that one most often finds a partner through work, and even this is not possible at our office as we only have girls and gay guys, I must say that amongst our clients there are always many handsome rich guys; a very good potential for boyfriends and maybe future husbands. And for promiscuous married women, good potential for global lovers.

So why doesn’t Miss B find a man amongst the clients? Is the answer her having the German market? I agree that Germans are weird and not very attractive, but there are exceptions. I remember having 30 gorgeous German architects in Stockholm a couple of years ago. So gorgeous that I didn’t need any sleep in four nights but preferred to entertain them with Miss K at Café Opera, Berns and Spybar until early morning hours. Gosh how I sometimes love my work!

But if Miss B doesn’t want a Nazi* guy, there are still men all over the places in the fairytale land of Denmark! You find them when you are paying for your latte at a café, when you are waiting for the red light to change, when you are queuing at the supermarket. Just the past week I have met three very attractive guys, guys that could have been quite perfect for Miss B or any single girl looking for a man.

First I met a terribly handsome acupuncturist in my very own little village. He was so hot that if there was a world championships for the hottest acupuncturist in the universe, he would win without doubt. He gave me his phone number and told me to call him as soon as I find out a defect I want to be cured.

Then the other day I met an awfully nice architect, so nice that if there were world championships for the nicest bla bla bla….. I don’t usually pay attention to guys’ eyes but Mr Architect had such blue eyes that I couldn’t help wondering how blue eyes our kids could have had as I do too have BLUE eyes. He also had the weirdest business card ever; I had to ask him to buy me a new bag where his business card could fit in.

Yesterday while paying for a book in a book store, there was a very cute guy behind me in the queue. It took me exactly two minutes to find out that we had some common interests and to get him to introduce himself.

God is evil, this we know, putting a lot of cute guys on my way, me not being available, but not giving a single one to Miss B. So I should help her, yes, I must pass on my three new contacts to Miss B right away. I can’t stand her coming over and wanting my Jewish boy; I have told her that if I cannot have him, neither can she. There is a limit to my sister solidarity.

But Miss B, how about an architect with world’s biggest business card?

*No offense Germans but you did kill quite many Jews during WW2. And now the Jews are beating the hell out of Palestinians. Join my Facebook group “Give Lapland to Palestinians!”

Conversation with a German client

2009-08-26T17:03:00.009+02:00

“I need a motivational speaker for the evening, a sportsman. I think the famous football player Søren Lerby would be great.”
.
“Søren who? Cant’ be that famous, I have never heard of him. How about Laudrup the younger? Or the racer guy Tom Kristensen? No, now I know! I will get you the handball player Søren Stryger.”
.
“I don’t want a handball but a football player, I want this Lerby guy.”
.
“I am sure Stryger can also play football. A ball is a ball, a Søren is a Søren.”
.
“I don’t want Stryger, I want Lerby.”

Googling……

“Heavens, this Lerby guy lives in Holland, how the hell am I going to track him down? No way, I am not gonna waste time on him. You get Søren Stryger, he lives close by my house.”

“I want Lerby!”

“Jesus, can’t you hear how irritating you are, you Nazi….”

“What did you say???”

“Oh, just how incredibly NICE you are….”

She is right, Søren is not just a Søren!

Vibrators are only for women!

2009-08-25T13:11:00.005+02:00

My husband is sick at home, and as this is very rare, I was quite worried this morning at work. I tried to call him, but he picked neither the normal phone, nor the mobile. My God, is he dead? Should I call the neighbor to check him up?

Maybe he for once listened to what I said and went to the doctor. I kept calling his mobile, and suddenly there is no connection at all, no ringing what so ever.

He is most certainly dead. I call his insurance company, find out how much his life insurance is worth, start looking for houses north of Copenhagen and book a cruise to Caribbean. But then my husband calls.

“Husband, why the heck aren’t you picking up the phone?”

“Wife, I am very sick. I was sleeping.”

“Why is there no connection to your mobile?”

“Because you called my mobile too many times it being on vibrator so eventually it fell off the table, and went to 1000 pieces.”

Guys, never use vibrator functions, it is a woman thing.

SÅ KAN HAN LÆRE DET!

In love…

2009-08-20T09:18:00.008+02:00

It is no secret that I fall in love easily, but being a married woman I resist all the temptations that cross my way. Until for a couple of weeks ago. I met a man I simply couldn’t resist; it was love at first sight, wow what a guy! This Icelandic Jòki is a man who just knocks your feet away. Sweet, good looking and tender; everything a woman dreams of. I had to tell my husband that I have no intention to leave my family for him, but he has to accept that Jòki from now on will be a part of my life.

My husband isn’t a jealous man, but finds me loving someone else that strongly somehow very unconventional. The time I will be spending with Jòki is also time away from the family (from the cooking facilities), but he is now settled with the situation. He said that he is okay with that, but for the family’s sake I should be careful and think about the safety in my new relationship.

And showing that he really is okay with this, he even bought me a birthday present a couple of weeks in advance:

So Jòki, all fit and safe, counting for days to see you again:

Forbid burkas?

2009-08-17T10:21:00.003+02:00

In the liberal state of Denmark we now want forbid women to wear burkas. Why? Because they are oppressive for women. I guess that we in that case should also forbid mini skirts, deep cut t-shirts, big breasts, net-pantyhose, high heels and heaven knows what.

Burka is in fact a very practical costume in many ways. In the morning no need to fix hair or to put on make-up, and no need to worry about the extra kilos on your hips. And if you are born very ugly, cases where even make-up and hair spray don’t help, then you are also considered polite wearing burka.

Join my Facebook group “I demand Susan Boyle to wear burka!”
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The most important man of your life

2009-08-13T17:26:00.019+02:00

It is not your dad. Your dad eventually dies taking that unconditional love with him to the grave.
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It is not your husband. He will grow indifferent during the years and only consider you as a cook. .

It is not your son. He might love you most in the whole world until he gets Playstation 3, Wii and a girlfriend.
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It is not your lover. He will forget you as soon as you are out of sight.

No, the most important man of your life is the man who is never tired of hearing about your real worries; about all the awful things that can happen to your shoes. He is the one who will comfort you when the worst happens; when the heel of your favourite boots breaks.

The most important man in every woman’s life is her cordonnier.

Jealousy

2009-08-11T08:57:00.005+02:00

Jealousy is sick but the lack of jealousy is even sicker. My husband has never been jealous and I guess he never will be. He wasn’t jealous when we were working at the same office and a crazy psychopath (a very good looking psychopath though) was sending me flowers and calling me all the time to invite me out. No, my husband just laughed and said “It’s good, honey, that someone pities you.”

My husband isn’t jealous when I in the wintertime get in a snowball fight with my neighbour, my neighbour Jens sitting on me on and giving me a snow wash. My husband just thinks it is extremely embarrassing, especially when we start rolling down the sledge hill looking like two sumo wrestlers.

My husband isn’t jealous when I go to coffee dates with male friends or out for dinner with old lovers.

My husband isn’t jealous that I am planning to go to Africa with 5 Italian guys this winter (if there is space for me in one of the jeeps, and the jeeps they left in Burkina Faso still are there...) My husband doesn’t mind at all me spending two weeks with Gianni, Rafaello, Ricardo, Piero and a Treviso guy in African desert and he doesn’t mind that I have to share tent with Gianni.

I guess he wouldn’t even be jealous if he knew that I have replaced the picture of my imaginary husband Søren Stryger at the office with a guitar playing Olivier (and yes, all the girls and gay guys keep on coming over and slobber over him).

I bet even a camel is more jealous of nature than my husband. La vie est vraiment plus facile pour une chamelle!

PS. But I am sure Søren Stryger would be jealous if he knew he has been replaced by a Jewish boy.

Forbid fighting dogs?

2009-08-10T09:31:00.006+02:00

These days there has been again a lot of discussion about prohibiting fighting dog breeds. I agree, but I would like to add, forbid any dogs! I am sick and tired trying to avoid stepping in a dog shit every time I put my feet out of the house.

I don’t get the thing about having a dog. It is pervert, a pseudo friend that totally depends on you. Do people get dogs just to be able to control someone in their lives? Why bother having a living creature that has so many needs and gives you so many obligations, why not buy a Barbie doll? The Barbie doll can also be good company, but you don’t have to feed it, or take it out. When you go for holiday, no need to get space at the local Kennel for 3 weeks, you can just put the Barbie back to the drawer or on your bookshelf. You can even take it with you at all times.

Don’t get offended, any friend having a dog and reading this. Just ask yourself why you have a dog when you have me. You can take me out for a walk, give me food and something to drink, and I will show my appreciation in better ways than just waving the tail.

Torture by words

2009-08-03T22:46:00.005+02:00

I had planned to stop this nonsense as I shouldn’t have time for blogging anymore. My friend Vips hasn’t given up and found a maybe interested publisher for my great idea of children’s travel books, again. I should be excited, but have I proceeded with my book? No. How have I settled with my urge to write then? Writing plenty of obscure e-mails.

I figured I cannot go on with this anymore. I have eventually a need to write stupid things, but no one has sinned that badly they deserve my personal mails.

First offer was Olivier, being a part of my survey “What does it take to turn a guy off”. I have written him a couple of stupid mails, but little have they helped. So I decided to tell him how I didn’t really believe in his Jewish God, and introduced him instead to my philosophy of life, shortly put as La vie est plus facile pour un chameau (Life is easier for a camel). To spice it up a little bit I mentioned about my obsession of naked women and ended my mail calling him an apple pie, "Je t’embrasse très fort, ma tarte aux pommes". Well, if this doesn’t work, I guess I can always invite him to accompany me on the yearly Nazi ball.

Then I found out that I had run out of Finnish chocolate, and had to get in touch with Mr P, too. While inviting him over to bring me some chocolate, I wrote him how women should always have younger lovers as young guys are physically tenacious and grateful for older women’s experience. First of all, what could I possibly know about that, and secondly, why would Mr P care???? It is like telling an Eskimo about the importance of taking malaria pills. Unless Mr P has gone through sex exchange operation, and this in fact I couldn’t know. First turning from world’s best kisser to a gay guy, so stepping to another sex isn’t maybe that far away after all.

Today I got a mail from my ex-favorite hetero guy at work, the one who left us in November. He was complaining about how it was hard to get the ends to meet his new work being so far away. I suggested he turned into escort business instead, then he could decide himself how much and when he wants to work. Thinking about how easy it would be to get clients with his good looks, I offered to manage his calendar, and we would both get rich and happy. I guess I will never hear from him again and this even without mentioning of (only thinking about) offering myself too if any beautiful female client would request threesomes.

So I guess it is better to blog. I could also start writing my children’s books or use the time at office for actual work. Yes, the last sentence was a joke.

Happy birthday, blog!

2009-07-28T13:14:00.002+02:00

Yep, it is exactly a year ago I started this nonsense. As I am still in my Italian mood, I celebrate it with Eros.

Un emozione per sempre
envoyé par bidou-eros. - Regardez la dernière sélection musicale.

vorrei poterti ricordare così
con quel sorriso acceso d'amore
come se fosse uscita di colpo
lì un'occhiata di sole...

Hush!

2009-07-22T17:04:00.014+02:00

I went once accidentally to a Hush concert as one of my clients wanted to go, and I have been a fan ever since. A good fan gets new fans; now there is also a French Jewish boy loving Hush...

" My brain is soft from last night..."

Oh la la...

How the cruise control was born

2009-07-20T16:54:00.002+02:00

I guess it happened when a woman was driving with her flip-flops on German highways 160 km/h, trying to keep up with the Porches. The flip-flops got constantly stuck in the carpet under the clutch and once in a while she lost the flip-flop totally from her right food which was on the speeder, while having a Porche in front of her and a Ferrari just behind. Then this woman thought it would be a good idea not needing to use the feet at all, and came up with the idea of cruise control.

PS. If driving with flip-flops, never park next to a German police officer at a Rasthouse. Driving with flip-flops is forbidden in Germany and with the fine you get, you could have bought some more decent shoes.

Driving on German highways

2009-07-20T16:51:00.004+02:00

.
“Wife, you are driving too slowly.”

“Husband, I am driving 150 km/h!”

“But wife, all the Germans are overtaking us.”

“Husband, poor man, the Germans are driving Mercedes, Porches, BMWs and big Audis. We are driving a French car!”

« La vie est belle” followed by “La vita e bella” followed by “Life sucks !”

2009-07-20T16:40:00.006+02:00

After two weeks in France and one week in Italy, the awful truth always hits me. For some reason God loves to show me for 3 weeks every year how my life could have been if I had made some smarter choices in my life. Instead of going through 3000 boring mails at work now, I could be sitting on the piazza Bra, drinking prosecco and waiting the second act of Carmen to start. Life sucks big time! If my darling Olivier hadn’t also sent me a mail (there were in total 3001 mails), I would probably have committed suicide by noon.

This is also the time of the year I wish I had a cow. After 3 weeks' absence the garden looks like a rainforest, the cow could have kept the grass and the bushes down. And the fridge being empty, the cow could have taken care of the milk for my morning coffee and the kids’ cereal.

The kids were delighted about the empty fridge though. Yesterday morning I asked them if they wanted ice cream or frozen peas for breakfast. They wanted to have frozen peas. Sure. Just as sure as I want be in Denmark right now.

(How could I exchange the endless summer nights here to this f.... boring life?????)

New ways

2009-06-28T01:42:00.012+02:00

I have spent the Saturday with some French guys, a lovely day, enjoying life and laughing. But even these guys think I speak fantastic French, they just can’t get me over my disappointment with my exam yesterday. This is the reason I don’t take IQ tests. I might be for Olivier une femme intelligente but as soon as the IQ test shows 25, I don’t give a damn for Olivier’s sweet words.

But no exam is getting me depressed ever again, I have decided to drop my French studies. Instead I will join a needlework course. I am sure needlework will be much more useful on my journey to Buddhism, reaching Samadhi.

My boss will also be happy that I replace my expensive French studies with a definitely cheaper needlework course. She will be so delighted that she won’t wonder for one second why on earth she should pay for my needlework!

(This is me with backwards rebirth)

Look forwards!

2009-06-28T01:39:00.000+02:00

There is a reason why the car windshield is 50 times bigger than the rear view mirror.

I Buddhist, escaping from dukkha

2009-06-26T21:58:00.005+02:00

Why can’t I just be happy over a 12 in one exam but let a fucking 7 in another one depress me totally?

Why do I let one annoying client ruin my day when I have lots of grateful ones?

Why do I cry over one friend letting me down while I have so many who love me?

Why do I get upset of a husband who ignores me when I am for Olivier une femme geniale & très belle, when I have lots of guys to make coffee dates with, and when Kimmo year after year offers me his shoulder to cry on?

Because I am always flying too high and God dammit how it hurts my butt to fall down. But now God, I will leave your Via Dolorosa and join Heaven on her Buddhist journey. I will no more crave anything! Except maybe a little bit champagne once and a while...

Lessons in seduction 2 (or I am so easy 2)

2009-06-25T21:03:00.006+02:00

Now listen very carefully, all the LAZY unromantic guys in the world. You might not be able to write as poetically as a French lover, but straight talk à la Swiss guy will also do:

“Meine Liebe, coffee at 10 o’clock?”

And right away I throw all the important work assignments from my hands (like reading, re-reading and re-re-reading Olivier’s mails and afterwards giggling stupidly bla bla bla…).

Raymond, I am all yours, me so Italian under my Finnish cover!

Lessons in seduction

2009-06-25T09:01:00.005+02:00

Now listen very carefully, all the unromantic guys in the world. It doesn’t turn a woman on saying things like “Move a little bit, you fill too much on the couch” or “Exercise would do you good, can’t you get up and get me a beer?”

This is what turns a woman on, I totally surrender:

"Donc oui, je te ferai des caresses, je te prendrai dans mes bras, je te ferai l’amour. Je pense avoir beaucoup de choses à donner et quand je rencontre une femme comme toi, je donne tout."

Oh la la…….

How to test if a person is an organ trafficker

2009-06-23T09:04:00.002+02:00

Write him something stupid and he will discover that you have no brain. Remember also to mention how you liver and kidneys are useless after too much partying in your youth. If the person is still interested, he is not an organ trafficker.

So let’s see, dear Olivier, was it nervous laughter in the early morning hours when I suspected you to be an organ trafficker?

Advantages with blogging 2

2009-06-23T08:49:00.003+02:00

I haven’t seen my chess teacher Johan for 23 years, and now the past 10 days I have met him twice. On our second date yesterday the café latte was changed to beer and rainy Stockholm to sunny Nyhavn.

It is funny how you can laugh with an old friend, the humour will always stay. And it is funny how by just telling people about your blog you don’t waste time on indifferent small talk. You go right in to the essential subjects, your marriage and sex-life!

God bless all the guys without problems of intimacy!

I am so easy!!!!!

2009-06-22T13:16:00.007+02:00

In my village there is no fish shop, so the fish van comes by once in a while on Sundays. I buy my fish in Metro, en gros boutique where I pay only a fourth of the supermarket price, and I had no intention in the first place to buy fish from this van. But what can I do, when they don’t just ring a bell on the streets, but knock on your door? I could always say no to an old wrinkled fisherman, but this fish van is run by two totally cute young guys. It is impossible to say no to them!

Normally I try to hide myself when they come, but yesterday I fell asleep on the couch with Houellebecq (I guess I have grown immune to him, I don’t vomit anymore reading him but fall asleep instead). The fish guys could see me from the window; impossible to escape.

Later that evening my husband asked what’s for dinner.

“Well, 2 kilos salmon, 3 kilos lemon sole, 5 kilos cod, 6 kilos shrimps, 8 kilos tuna….”
“God wife, one day they sell the van to you!!

My husband hasn’t had a look at the garage yet.

(This guy could sell me the government of Nigeria!)

Suck it up!

2009-06-20T19:05:00.012+02:00

In my job I often have to suck up both clients and suppliers. I have learned that it most often pays back being nice to suppliers; you get them to do the impossible things when just asking nicely. How ever, there are two kinds of people where it doesn’t help talking nicely to; Michelin chefs and Hell’s Angels. You just have to yell at them so they get the message.

Last week I had to make a Michelin chef feel my anger, and I promise, he will NEVER fuck up with my clients again. Problem with Hell’s Angels is that you don’t want to yell at them. But as long as you don’t know they are Hell’s Angels, it works perfectly.

For years ago we had a nice guy, let’s call him Mr R, to renovate our bathroom in Copenhagen. He fixed it well, but there were some minor things I wasn’t satisfied with, so I called him and asked him to come and fix them.

“I don’t really have time…” Mr R answers.
“You just better get your ass over here, NOW”

Mr R came, fixed the things and I was happy.

When we moved to our house, we had again a bathroom to renovate, and of course we contacted the liable Mr R. He came, fixed the bathroom, but again left a little thing undone. I called him:

“You didn’t cover the pipes under the sink!”
“It wasn’t included in the price.”
“Bullshit, you better get you ass over here NOW and fix it!”

Again Mr R came, fixed the pipe cover and I was happy.

A couple of years later we found out that there was something with electricity that Mr R hadn’t done quite after the book. Meanwhile a colleague of my husband has also engaged Mr R to fix his bathroom and told that one evening Mr R had forgotten his HA jacket in the bathroom he was working at. So now we had to call Mr R and ask him to fix the electricity;

“Wife, you call Mr R, won’t you?”
“Hell no, I am not gonna call him, you do it!”
“No I am not gonna do it, you do it…”
“No, you do it…”
“No, you do…”

One million and one reasons to divorce your husband

2009-06-20T14:13:00.004+02:00

My husband doesn’t bother reading my blog, but he reads “La Mom”, a blog about an American lady living in Paris.

I will now pack my belongings and accept some of the very tempting offers I got in Stockholm.

(I will start with the invitation sailing in the blue waters of Mediterranean)

Olivier, Olivier or….(O)liver?

2009-06-19T21:42:00.003+02:00

Of course I have been wondering why a very handsome, romantic, intelligent 35 year old Jew with a successful international medical career would be interested in a 40 something, overweight, simple girl like me. I also remember asking Olivier in the early morning hours, if he was an organ trafficker or a psychopath. He said he preferred to be a psychopath.

So now you know.

Happy birthday, boss!

2009-06-19T19:03:00.007+02:00

Someone at the office was stupid enough to give me the assignment of buying a birthday present to our boss today. First of all, I am very annoyed with this kind of obligations. She wanted a CD with Pet Shop Boys (no, she is neither 6 years nor 60 years old!), but it was sold out (the 6 and 60 years old had obviously bought them all!). I had no time for further research, I had more important things to do at the office. Like reading, re-reading and re-re-reading Olivier’s mails, and afterwards giggling stupidly with my fat colleague.

So what did I do? I bought her a fart on internet. Yes, Folkekirkens Nødhjælp has a campaign where you gan give a fart, “Giv en prut”, a biogas project to help poor people in Honduras. My boss was delighted. And no one is never asking me to buy birthday presents to anyone at the office ever again!

What the hell is going on 2

2009-06-19T16:42:00.001+02:00

At the moment la vie est trop belle, I am waiting for a catastrophe to happen any minute.

Patricia Kaas: Il me dit que je suis belle
envoyé par brainstorm. - Regardez plus de clips, en HD !

Knowing people in right places

2009-06-19T16:31:00.004+02:00

I am not really afraid of NEC arresting me, I know the chief of NEC quite well, and I am sure he would risk his career to get me out of trouble. But if he really risks his career, my crime better be a good one, not just getting involved with a young boy of 35 years.

Why I know the chief of NEC? Because I am often knocking at his door with my son. Why am I bringing my son along? Because my son has a weird way of showing his love, the offer often being the daughter of the chief of NEC. So I force my son to write letters of apology, which the chief of NEC is quite impressed of. And he would of course never let me go to jail, how could he live without the entertainment value of our visits?

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?

2009-06-17T21:43:00.008+02:00

First passing four days with endless compliments from Frenchmen. At home my husband trying to kiss me all the time. Then today staff evaluation with my boss where I for 1,5 hours had to listen how valuable I was for the company, how creative and magnificent I am.

Am I the only one not knowing that I have cancer and only 3 months left to live?

Or did the laboratory guys really get back to my boss and say that if they ever come to Copenhagen, it will only be because of me? I have many clients that make it impossible for my boss to fire me. I don’t definitely deliver the cheapest services in town, but if my clients once use me, they will never go to someone else. It sounds like I am a prostitute, but no, I would never sleep with a client for money, I do it for free (just kidding husband, of course I take paid, how do you think I can afford so many shoes!!!).

And as this wasn’t enough, the sweet Olivier is sending me text messages and e-mails, oh boy. I would very much love to get back to Olivier, but him only being 35…hm, I am scared that NEC will arrest me for paedophilia. I might have forgotten to tell Olivier that I was married, had two kids, and that I had passed the 40 something, didn’t seem that important at 5 o’clock in the morning sharing mojitos.

I guess that I can always write to him that I have cancer and only three months to live!

Fatigue!

2009-06-16T12:25:00.005+02:00

My husband has no sympathy for me being tired, according to him I could just have gone to bed earlier this week-end. He has no idea what a hard work in general it was being in Stockholm;

Hairdresser (always painful to support the stupid hairdressers), sauna and hot tub at the hotel (very hot, made me sleepy), fine dining (eating makes me feel guilty), coffee with Johan (I was scared to death he will challenge me in chess), cocktails in various bars (you can’t imagine how hard it is to say “no thanks” to every second drink offered!), roof top walking (VERTIGO), zodiac ride (I could have gotten sea sick), socializing with clients (it is extremely hard to keep track on compliments; “Vous etes très charmante!”, was it the 15.th or the 16th time?) etc etc.

The only thing I must admit wasn’t hard work was laying back and listening the sweet Olivier singing Georges Brassens to me. His guitar was missing, though.

Olivier is also definitely more tired than me as he had to attend a Jewish wedding Sunday night when he got back to Paris. Grazy Jews having weddings on Sundays. Oh, Sabbath on Saturday? Didn’t look much Sabbath to me!

Hamster trouble

2009-06-15T21:26:00.006+02:00

“Mom, Mille’s (the hamster) eye is infected; we have to take it to the vet.”

“No way, I am not paying 500 kr for a vet. Human life might be priceless but a hamster; most of the pet shops value it to 50 kr. We just flush it down the toilet and I buy you a new one.”

“Mom!!!!”

“Okay, I will take it to the vet tomorrow. When you come home from school it is cured.”

PS. If they don’t have same colour hamsters at the pet shop, I can always tell that the medicine made its fur turn from grey to brown.

Vertigo!

2009-06-15T11:14:00.006+02:00

I had no intention to climb up to the roof tops of Stockholm, knowing that I suffer from acrophobia. But what can I do when the 5 French lab guys insist and promise to take very good care of me? I couldn't resist, the thought fainting up in the clouds and Olivier catching me, well, can it get more romantic?

How romantic did it get? One of the lab guys turned out to have so bad vertigo himself that he had to be attached to the instructor the last 50 meters.

Good God I had gotten my client away from the idea flying with hot air balloons!

Stockholm, la vraie ville de l’amour or 40 reasons for not to become lesbian, at least not yet

2009-06-14T22:42:00.017+02:00

I have just spent 4 WONDERFUL days in Stockholm with 35 French transplant surgeons and 5 French commercial guys from the laboratory sponsoring the event, LA VIE EST BELLE! For four days I have heard endlessly “You look so beautiful tonight” (174 times), “ You are so charming (168 times) or “You have truly beautiful eyes” (197 times). I know that Frenchmen think anything blond, even if it was a reindeer walking on it’s back feet with a blond wig on, is beautiful, but the hell I care; women are always receptive for compliments!

Now you wonder how much fun can French transplant surgeons actually be? Hm, not much, they can be quite boring. But as I can be the queen of small talk, I can make any doctor laugh and find a funny story under each boring cover. You might also wonder how much fun can French commercial guys from the transplant laboratory be? Let me tell you, A LOT OF FUN!!!!!!

Networking is important; you never know what you will need in the future. So after the past 4 days networking with these mostly boring French transplant surgeons I know that if I ever need a new kidney or liver, there are 35 French surgeons ready to proceed with the transplantation. And I don’t need to get in line to wait for a donor; there are 5 commercial laboratory guys ready to give me one of their kidneys right away! It is a small price to pay that I had to manage with minimum of sleep, like last night’s 1,5 hrs. Here my boss would usually faint thinking about the bar bills, but this time I didn’t get my company credit card up from my handbag once.

Boy I am good! And belle, and charmante, avec les yeux tellement beaux!

PS. If you ever wonder whether you are able to know when you meet the love of your life, let me tell you, you just know! Amongst the commercial guys was Olivier, “l’homme de ma vie”. I have NEVER met such a charming guy before; totally mignon, witty, intelligent, romantic, the most sympathetic person in the whole world and very interested in me; just too good to be true. I had to tell him that he simply entered my life 20 years too late, but I could also see that for 20 years ago him being only 15 I wouldn’t definitely have been interested. And I guess it couldn’t have worked out anyway, me loving shellfish and him being a practising Jew.

PSS. No, Olivier isn't blind, but just as I said, too good to be true!

Abracadabra

2009-06-09T09:09:00.004+02:00

Yesterday I received a package from Mr P. The Clash-listening Mr P had sent me a Jamie Cullum CD. Obviously turning from hetero to gay doesn’t only affect your sexual preferences but also the music.

Now I will stop making fun of Mr P’s sexuality, coming out of closet is a serious thing. Instead I am enjoying the Jamie Cullum, I am all set to a western smoky piano bar in Istanbul…

More mind travelling...this is how I would like to live my life.

Florent Pagny - Le mur
envoyé par levingston76 - Découvrez plus de vidéos créatives.

alors j'ai détruit
les murs de ma maison
le toit antibruit
l'abri en béton
alors j'ai détruit
pour garder la raison
les portes en titane
et puis j'ai construit
un mur anticon

There are definately too many cons in my life, I really need that "mur anticon"!

Ghosts from past

2009-06-08T20:07:00.009+02:00

One would think that I’d write anything on my blog, but the other day I removed an entry I had posted just after one hour. I was simply afraid that Janni Spies will sue me.

A ghost from past found me on Facebook, and I suddenly remembered that summer very well. It is kind of funny, but I have something in common with Janni Spies, this guy. He was extremely unromantic, but GREAT fun. Later that summer Janni found him very entertaining, too (this she cannot sue me for, I guess). I remember also kicking him out from my apartment in favour to a female room mate, but being always positive, he took that remarkably well.

I thought it was fun to find old acquaintances on Facebook, but I am not that sure I am so keen to be found myself. Either I have to remove my profile from Facebook, or kill myself very soon.

PS. But without Facebook I will have nothing to write about!

Danish

2009-06-06T18:22:00.005+02:00

There are some weird expressions in Danish, like “tisse af” (=to pee). Instead of using simply “tisse”, especially the kindergarten and primary school teachers always tell children to “tisse af”. As far as I know, you can practically only pee in one direction; where does the “af” come from?

Some Danish teachers must have been on educational trip to England, where they heard teachers telling the children “Piss off”. Proving that they had learned something, and didn't waste tax payers' money, these teachers now tell Danish kids to “Tis af”.

Vive la lettre… or maybe not?

2009-06-06T16:37:00.007+02:00

In a yet another moment of madness I decided to write Mr P a letter. No text message, no mail, but a good old-fashioned paper letter. I haven’t written a letter since my grand-ma died, around the year Finland got independent, and as I really am someone making something from nothing, I managed to write two pages of nonsense. My purpose was simply to make Mr P happy; this was thanks for the good old times together, for the two days he spent in Copenhagen, thanks for the chocolate, thanks for the champagne.

I could not know that his secretary opens his mail, and as Mr P wrote back, according to the expression on her face, she also had read my letter. He wasn’t referring to rooftop walking in Stockholm, neither to my adventures in Chichen Itza in Mexico (my minds travels, one thing leads to another) but to a small innocent sentence: “And I would always prefer kissing with you for one hour to 20 minutes of sex”. This was just to point out what a wonderful kisser he is.

Now the secretary is chasing the poor Mr P; can he really be such a wonderful kisser? She won’t leave him alone, she does anything in attempt to get Mr P to kiss her.

Why doesn’t he just confess to her that he is gay?

PS. Don't climb to the top of Chichen Itza if you suffer of acrophobia. I wish someone had warned me!

IQ test of the day after

2009-06-05T10:24:00.003+02:00

1. How many bottles of champagne I managed to drink last night:

a) 50
b) 100
c) 150

2. When my hot date asked after the party if I would like to go and drink one more bottle of champagne at a nearby bar, in addition to the 50 bottles I already had had, I answered:

a) Hell no, gotta go home.
b) Okay.

3. How many aspirins are needed to cure today’s headache caused by 51 bottles of champagne:

a) 300
b) 600
c) 900

Before answering, please notice that if you get no correct answers, you are more stupid than Tennant the time-traveller. If you get one right, you are as stupid as TTT. If you get two right, you are slightly more intelligent than TTT.

If you get all the three answers right, you will be able to work at pharmacy.

Party!

2009-06-04T15:27:00.003+02:00

I have just had an exam on translation today, HAVE NO IDEA HOW IT WENT! It looked very Danish to me, but I don’t always agree with the Danes.

Fortunately I am going to a party tonight, with a hot date (my husband still doesn’t read my blog). So I can either celebrate that it went well or drink to my sorrows that I will flunk. Either way, I am going to have fun!

She will also be at the party!

Exactly my words...

2009-06-02T22:26:00.003+02:00

You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.
Colette (1873 - 1954)

Stupid guys?

2009-06-01T22:07:00.009+02:00

I saw once a documentary about David Beckham. He was sitting in a car on the way to Parkinson talk show, very nervous: “I am sure he is going to ask me something that I don’t even understand the words of, gosh, I am so stupid.” Victoria the wife tried to comfort him and said: “You are not stupid, would I marry a stupid guy?”

Exactly, we girls don’t marry stupid guys, we wouldn’t even have stupid boyfriends. Or…? I guess I have to admit I once had a total idiot as a boyfriend, Tennant the time-traveller.

I answered Tennant’s mail if I remembered him, that well, he kind of left an unforgettable impression. He wrote: “Hopefully a positive impression, drop me a line and let me know what you are doing now, would love to catch up”.

Is there something called "minus IQ"?

PS. David Beckham stupid? He certainly is no rocket scientist, but he has made awful lot of money...

Making something from nothing...

2009-05-31T00:56:00.006+02:00

... is what I do.

Haven't listen to Motown for years, thanks Mr P.

PS. I am wondering what kind of feeling you are talking about; the nausea being together with a woman you being gay? “I only get this feeling when I know you won’t say no”????

Facebook and old acquaintances

2009-05-30T15:03:00.006+02:00

I am not obviously the only one not having a life and looking for old lovers on Facebook. I just got a mail from Tennant the time-traveller, the boyfriend I found in bed with another girl once. Time-traveller? Yes, he always used to say that if I ever got pregnant, we should get married. Being only 20 years old I found this totally weird and figured out that he must have been Austen’s Mr Darcy who accidentally had landed on 20th century thinking this was the way it still works.

Tennant the time-traveller wondered if I remembered him. Obviously he is suffering from a severe memory loss; I guess if a boyfriend had found me in bed with another guy, I would remember this rest of my life.

What can I answer to him? I am considering two possibilities:

“If I remember? I am quite sure you don’t remember. I am not one of those girls you cheated your girlfriend with. I am the girlfriend you cheated on!”

Or

“Hm, doesn’t really ring a bell. Or maybe a little bit anyway, I guess you are one of the billion boyfriends I have found in bed with another girl. Am I getting close?”

What do you know?

2009-05-29T23:04:00.007+02:00

I thought that I knew Mr P very well being quite intimate with him for a century ago. But in fact I knew very few things about him besides that he really is the best kisser in the world (I have tested many men in my life, can’t think anyone better) and that he loves tennis.

I think our intimacy back then was very much concentrated on these two topics. The past two days I have learned more about him than during my teenage years. For example he has read more Pamuk books than me and he sees Jean Luc Goddard films. I wouldn’t have guessed that in million years.

I also learned that he in fact is gay. Last night he was talking with such affection about his male colleague, Juha, and he didn’t even try to have sex with me.

PS. Gay or not, he will always be my Tomas and I will always be his Sabina. The totally bearable lightness of being!

PSS. Gay or not, he still is the most romantic guy to spend evening with (even he NEVER has been romantic in writing!).

PSSS. Gay or not, he still makes me laugh.

PSSSS. Gay or not, my blog makes him laugh.

On a date with Mr P or the unbearable lightness of being

2009-05-29T09:55:00.009+02:00

Mr P, probably the best kisser in the world, is, as I have written earlier, a man who has never made me miserable. He was always a source of pure joy and happiness, and I must say, he still is. At least if I keep it to a selected part of our conversation from yesterday:

Mr P: I must say you don’t disappoint me; I have always said that being with you was DIFFERENT…
(…like the choice of this restaurant. What on earth am I eating?)

Mr P: Back then I was totally crazy about you. You could have asked me to make a salto mortale, and I had done it.
(Me: I want to see that salto mortale, show it to me now.)
(Mr P: Now? Now I am just wondering how the heck I could have been so crazy about you back then.)

Mr P: I used to love your butt, but your breasts, wow! I must admit that when I saw you at the hotel lobby, I right away undressed you in my imagination.
(Me: If you invite me to your hotel room, I let you see my breasts.)
(Mr P: Øh, hm, sorry, not interested. I said that I undressed you….)

Remember? I don't really.

Movies

2009-05-28T15:53:00.005+02:00

JB wrote that there are practically no movies that are worth seeing from the 80’s. This is how ever the decade I spent a lot of time in cinema and even I agree that many of these films were bad (films I fell asleep to, or if the company was good, spent time in other things at than watching the film), there are also plenty of good films that I actually saw. The following ones are some I clearly remember being wonderful:

37,2 le matin
Le grand bleu
Le père noël est une ordure
Once upon time in America
A room with a view
New York stories
The French Lietenant's woman
Sophie's choice
Amadeus
Gandhi
Chariots of fire
Fanny and Alexander
Ran
My left foot
Hannah and her sisters
Trois hommes et un couffin
Le Déclin de l'empire américain
Camille Claudel
Driving Miss Daisy
Dangerous liaisons
The elephant man

And of course my favorite ones with Harrison:

I even bought a hat and a whip at Universal Studios being so into Indy’s adventures. Oh, now I get it, the nickname, Ms Domina…

Carte de fidelité

2009-05-28T09:39:00.003+02:00

I can’t make 200 people to laugh with a joke but I can make one French lady to laugh. When I was in Paris I went to cinema, and the lady asked me if I wanted une carte de fidelité. I said that sure, then I can always prove my husband I have been faithful in Paris.

Auchhhh....

2009-05-28T08:46:00.006+02:00

Try to tell a joke to 200 people; it is not sure at all they will laugh. But fall on your butt in attempt to run backwards, and all the 200 suckers will certainly laugh. I don’t know why I volunteered to play “Høvdingebold - adults against children” at the school party, but I know that my butt really hurts.

What do I care that everybody laughed, as thanks I also teached the audience some very important Finnish words. But what pisses me off, is that my butt hurts so bad that I cannot sit down. Thank God I have an adjustable desk at the office and I can stand up, but what am I going to do tonight during the dinner with Mr P? I cannot dine sitting down, I must lie down. But there aren’t any restaurants with divan dining in Copenhagen; I guess the only solution is room service at Mr P’s hotel. And I am in fact very trained in lying on Mr P’s bed, this used to be my favorite occupation when I was 18 (LISTENING TO MUSIC!!). It will be fun to see if lying on Mr P’s bed is like riding a bike; if you once have learned it, you never forget how to do it.

Ras-le-bol 2

2009-05-27T21:03:00.004+02:00

Thise Gul Kornblomst, probably the best butter in the world.

This is how serious my ras-le-bol is. I am definitely in need of therapy or I will start writing about what I am going to have for dinner.

Ras-le-bol

2009-05-27T13:01:00.007+02:00

”Husband, I have an awful ras-le-bol, I don’t want to work anymore.”

“Have you been looking for a new work, then?”

“I said that I don’t want to work, I don’t want to replace this ras-le bol with just another one.”

“Well, you can’t make a living without doing anything, wife.”

“I have heard that one can make a living by blogging.”

“You little brain (I don’t even get offended when my husband calls me this, I am just happy that something with me is petit), you cannot make a living by blogging when you only have 3 readers; the weird Danish one, the even weirder Taiwanese one and the weirdest of them all, the gauloise.”

“How much money I have to make, big brain (my husband is also happy I call him this, at least one thing with him is big, too)?”

“Little brain, I need you to contribute with 3000 Euros every month to keep our economy going.”

“Okay, I will ask my three readers to pay me 1000 Euros each per month.”

From Ms Domina...

2009-05-26T17:46:00.004+02:00

How on earth did I get that nick name? Quite an achievement on communicating by mail only.

Awfulness of modern technology

2009-05-26T11:08:00.009+02:00

In the old days when someone was out of your life, he really was gone for good. Especially if you had burned all his letters. I don’t know what kind of masochism makes me look after old lovers (probably not really having a life anymore?) but not finding my Jewish lover on facebook, I decided to google him.

And I did find Frank, I also found his band. They had put their weird music on internet; why God, why? I was laughing loud, poor guys, was life treating them that badly?

But as the old proverb says, deep laughter leads to tears. Maybe the over 20 year’s old funny music made me laugh, but getting updated with Frank made me cry. He had become the vice president of a big international IT company; I could read everything from his career the past 20 years. God dammit, you Jewish drummer boy, you could have told me that you were serious about your future. That life for you wasn’t only Jonasz, your ridiculous band and Hanukkah. That you in fact could have offered me a life only playing tennis and drinking champagne. Then, I swear I would have been so true to you.

This time he really pisses me off. I am going to send him a mail now, telling him how his jealousy was totally for reason. How being with Frederic was million times more fun, how Emmanuel was billion times more romantic and how sex with Aurelio was trillion times better. And I will ask him to send me a check of 1.000.030 Euros. The 30 Euros covering for the Chanel lipstick he used for writing his farewell note on my mirror at, and the million Euros covering for the two weeks’ heart ache of being dumped.

Or maybe I for once should demonstrate a little patience. Frank is obviously very ambitious, so one day he will be the CEO of that company. He is also the only person I know more embarrassing things about than he does about me (this is the reason I have struggled against success and wealth; people would stand in line to blackmail me).

Frank being the CEO, my check will be doubled. But I will keep low profile with my 2 million Euros, thinking about all the people waiting to blackmail me…

(Is having BB as my tennis pro keeping low profile?)

Postal madness

2009-05-25T12:15:00.007+02:00

Two weeks ago I ordered a little, thin book on internet; I had to pay 25 kr for the freight. Last week I ordered a vacuum cleaner on internet, this time I had to pay 30 kr in freight.

Today I ordered a space shuttle on internet; I have to pay 35 kr for the freight.

(I had to order the space shuttle to get an astronaut costume, they are not sold separately. So Thursday night, Dark Waiter being fully booked, I will look very petite inside my astronaut suit when meeting Mr P. How can I create the weightlessness around me to really make the point?)

Women are always right

2009-05-25T09:28:00.001+02:00

Venus is the only planet that rotates clockwise. Since Venus is normally associated with women, what does this tell you? That women are going the right direction.

Help!

2009-05-24T14:12:00.005+02:00

No money for liposuction, no time to go to hairdresser and no burka to find anywhere. I am really in trouble for Thursday’s date with Mr P. Or am I…? I guess I can always change our dinner reservation from Custom House to Dark Waiter (the restaurant where you dine in complete darkness).

So I won’t pick up Mr P at the hotel as I promised but meet him at the restaurant; he will never see me. PERFECT!

Ideal place for a blind date.

Turkish tales

2009-05-24T11:26:00.006+02:00

Having been totally lost in the world of Pamuk, I can finally concentrate in other things in my life. I have just finished “The silent house”, WHAT A WONDERFUL BOOK! This is no recommendation as I expect people to be like me; I never read anything people recommend me. Quite the contrary, if someone says “You just have to read this book”, I will definitely not touch it.

I wonder when my daughter finds out how my reading preferences work and starts saying, “Mom, you just have to read my diary.”

Ticket to heaven

2009-05-22T09:12:00.007+02:00

My husband is driving me crazy. At the moment every other sentence coming out of his mouth has something to do with FOOTBALL. The rest coming out of his mouth is even more incomprehensible, and that I pay no attention to (“Bla bla bla, browser, bla bla, kilobytes, megabytes, gigabytes, bla bla, net framework…”).

Albert Camus is supposed to have said “All that I know most surely about morality and obligations, I owe to football". What? Explains at least why his name is connected with absurdism. There are certainly many useless lives, but the most useless one must be the one being a football player.

I can imagine Beckenbauer knocking on the heaven’s door, and God asks him:
“So Franz, what have you accomplished on earth?”
“Well, I have been running after a ball for 50 years.”
“And you call that for an achievement? While people have been locked up for years at Guantanamo without trial, you have just been kicking a ball? Back to earth and this time do accomplish something.”

And God gives Franz a broom to bring along back to earth.

Reborn Cannavaro?

"Livsnyder"

2009-05-21T15:08:00.004+02:00

Someone wondered how come I know so many things about football. Well, it is simply because I am a passive livsnyder. You know, like being a passive smoker; I watch passively by while my husband enjoys life.

(Short but fun life?)

Melancholia

2009-05-20T23:07:00.002+02:00

When a loved one dies, you can either cry the rest of you life or try to fill the void with the strangest things. Stupid things that leave you with emptiness worse than losing the loved one.

Instead you should try things like chain-smoking a package of Partagas. Makes you so sick you will only cry because of the physical nausea.

How to lose 150 kilos in one week

2009-05-20T10:31:00.003+02:00

How? I don’t know but if you do, tell me. MR P IS COMING!

Well, I have many kaftans and jellabas from my time in Morocco; I am going to wear one of those. Or should I buy a burka?

(So nice to see you again. What, cannot see me? I can see you.)

What happened to romance?

2009-05-19T12:46:00.005+02:00

When did romance die, or has it ever existed outside my world of fiction? Why are husbands (or any men) so unromantic? Was Pushkin or Baudelaire that romantic in real life? Probably not, I guess they also suggested their wives to watch football when the kids spent an evening at grandparents’.

Maybe Juan Antonio (alias Javier Bardem) in Vicki Cristina Barcelona was right when he said “Only unfulfilled love can be romantic”. A few days ago a wonderful guy in moment of over 20 years’ old nostalgia wrote to me: “Remember the last night I drove you home? I just knew that now the woman of my life walked away .”

Vive l’amour inachevé if that’s all there is!

How do you want to die?

2009-05-18T10:58:00.005+02:00

I guess in my sleep, peacefully, dreaming of George Clooney. I know that I don’t want to get strangled or drowned; this is why I always keep a certain distance to my husband and lock the bathroom door when I take a bath.

I also know that I wouldn’t like to die like Eero Antikainen, the former Finnish union boss. He got trapped in his sofa bed in a hotel room in Stockholm; the sofa bed locked in with Eero inside and as a result he suffocated to death.

(A murder weapon? I must buy one for the next time my mother-in-law stays overnight.)

Football again

2009-05-15T23:14:00.009+02:00

I can’t help wondering what the big deal about football is. I just don’t get it, grown up men watching lazily strolling football players for 90 something minutes; makes me sleepy. Watching football is about the most boring thing one can do, just next to queuing at supermarket or being a hamster.

As my husband time to time watches football, I might follow the game a little bit. And I think I begin to understand why men like football, it is just slow enough for them to follow. That men never listen to what we women say to them isn’t because they don’t want to listen, they just can’t keep up with female speed of thinking.

Guys watching, playing or commenting football are all crazy, just see/hear this one (thanks cousin):

Handbags and genetic heritage

2009-05-15T12:43:00.007+02:00

I have often wondered if I genetically really am a child of my parents. I have absolutely nothing in common with them, or at least very few things that can also be plain accidental. I might have inherited my dad’s passion for books and driving fast, but nothing at all from my mom. Or… the content of the handbag maybe?

My mom’s handbag contains everything a woman will ever need. Or in general anything anyone including aliens and Tom Cruise would ever need. If she was driving a late night in the desert searching for a place to sleep, well, she could just stop and build a cottage herself with the content of her handbag.

My handbag wasn’t like that for 20 years ago; it has grown considerably during the years. In fact in my early twenties I guess I didn’t even bring a handbag along. When I went out Friday night, I probably only carried around my keys (on a request of my neighbors who didn’t like to be woken up at 03.00 am because I didn’t have my keys with me), a condom and a lip gloss on my pocket. If I was on my feministic mood (in the beginning of the month), I also took a little bit money with me, in the end of the month I was very susceptible for offered drinks instead.

So what went wrong? Why is my handbag now the size of my daughter and weighing 20 kilos? Am I becoming my mom? Her handbag is also the size of her daughter (me) and weighing 150 kilos.

Kinsey report

2009-05-14T11:54:00.004+02:00

As a natural consequence of my obsession of beautiful women, I remembered the Kinsey report.

According to Kinsey, a very few people in fact belong to the extremes, 0 and number 6. Makes me really laugh when I think about the many homophobic guys I know. We women in the contrary are definitely more relaxed about our sexuality.

And I wonder…Probably women just have to put up with men because we suffer under God given urge for propagation. If we didn’t have that instinct, I guess we couldn’t use men for anything; we would need to kill them as needless creatures.

Waldo’s people

2009-05-14T10:17:00.003+02:00

The other night I saw Karoliina Kallio singing, only on TV though as I obviously am not in Москва. Not really my kind of music, but she is so cool!

Elsk mig i nat

2009-05-14T10:14:00.004+02:00

Last night I saw Maria Lucia singing, quelle fille magnifique!