Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Helping the Icelandic Secret Service
Historians have discovered that Iceland has had a secret service since the late forties. Apparently the conservatives founded this super secret foundation to spy on the lefties, you know just to be sure about when the reds were planning to start the socialist revolution. Incidentally, the leftist governments which have occasionally ruled this rock, were kept in the dark about this; it's not a good idea to tell the premier that some dudes were spying on his every move. How has this institution been funded you may be asking yourselves, since it's supposed to be a secret? Well, with government funding as in: one toilet for the state run wc downtown=1,000,000 crowns, one toilet brush for the ministry of foreign affairs=2,000,000 crowns etc.
I find this information most interesting and now I also wonder who are the biggest threats to this democratic country as the Soviet Union has been cut into a zillion Far-a-way-istan's. The answer is obvious; environmental activists such as myself. We are highly dangerous with our horrible herbal tea drinking habits and nasty songs about a "green" future and unpolluted rivers. I am pretty sure that the minister of justice and ecclesiastical affairs, whose world was turned around when the Cold War ended (if the bad Russkies aren't bad anymore, who am I going to play Bruce Willis Die Hard games with?), has realized this and is now using the secred police to spy on us evil greenies.
However, as I would feel a lot better knowing that government funds were spent on assisting single moms and the disabled citizens of this country, I have decided to help the minister a wee bit. So, the secret police doesn't have to tap my phone and spy on me anymore. I will write it down right here what I an enemy of the state have been doing.
Example:
Phonecalls yesterday:
1) Mom called and talked about her goldfish for about 10 minutes while I was trying to work at my office. This is not a codeword for a nasty demonstration, AKA Operation Urban Goldfish. Nope, she was really talking about her goldfish so the government seriously doesn't have to call in somebody from Stasi to decipher the conversation.
2) My friend Hildur called to tell me that she had a sinus infection and was staying in while the penicillin kicks in. This conversation was also a literal one. There was no hidden meaning and she's absolutely not taking sick days off from work to organize a coup to overthrow the government and replace them with some wheat juice drinking hippies.
Actions:
Took bus to work, did not try to convince the bus driver to join the revolution, honest!
Worked, nothing bad there.
Took bus home and cooked chicken soup. This action was highly dubious since the purpose was to freshen up the mother unit, so that she could join me downtown in a demonstration. Alas Mission Refresh Mother Unit was an absolute failure.
Went downtown to demonstrate against evil goverment and evil Bectel/Alcoa with around 15,000 other dangerous protestors. That is 5% of the population so I think the secret police should possibly hire more people to spy on all of us vandals.
Went home and watched back to back episodes of 24 before going to bed. Wondered whether our secret service was as potent as CTU and Kiefer Sutherland.
Must ask minister about this... http://bjorn.is/
Monday, September 25, 2006
A different world?
This morning on my way to the office I all of a sudden got the funny feeling that I was in a different world, or at least in a different country. I took bus S4 and as soon as I entered I felt that something was strange about it. When I wanted to get off the bus, I pressed the normal "Stanzar" button, but it looked weird and then the sign lit up and said "Arrete Demande" or something like that.
Hmmm, was it possible that bus S4 is some sort of equipment that beams one straight to France? Do the fellowes at Icelandair know about this? But the sign on the road said Lækjargata, so I knew that this notion wasn't possible. I suppose the other answer to this puzzling mistery is that the Reykjavík bus company bought a cheap Renault bus and didn't bother to change it.
I must say this experience really caught me off guard and messed up all my normal bus paranoias. You see, I normally choose a seat on the opposite side of the bus driver to keep the balance and in that way hinder the bus from tipping over. I also get annoyed if I see a bunch of people sitting on one side of the bus while the other side remains empty. Why do these people test their fate like this? I would hate to have to say "told you so sucka, you didn't keep the balance and the bus tipped over".
The strangeness of the French bus got my so mistified that I even sat on the bus driver's side of the bus! I sure hope the bus company will soon stop using that darned French bus and go back to my usual Volvo bus.
There needs to be a certain balance in the force Luke!
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
The professor's back
So, Professor Porndog's back! I spend my time looking at his shared I-Tunes and wonder whether his "interesting" files are real or not. I must admit he's got a really specified taste when it comes to the gay-old-times... However, it seems a bit surreal that I am pondering over this whole situation while listening to the incredibly entertaining song Eldorado by Goombay Dance Band, a hardcore A-lister from Hamburg. This man sings with feeling (the voice and German accent eerily remind me of Christopher Lambert on crack) about the Indians of central America under a rhythmic eighties electronic drumbeat, which sounds like a laser gun fire from a sci-fi movie. So while I try to discover Professor Porndog's real identity I leave you with the lyrics of the ever so talented Goombay Dance Band:They came fivehundred years ago
they stole the gold of Mexico
killed the people one by one
only talking with their guns
Brave men locked on iron chains
all young mothers sold as slaves
babies crying through the night
will they ever see the light
Golden dreams of Eldorado
all have drowned in seas of pain and blood
golden dreams of Eldorado
may come true but only in your heart
Reach out your hand and you´ll be free
then we shall live in liberty
oh, will mankind ever learn
shall the whole world die and burn
Golden dreams of Eldorado
all have drowned in seas of pain and blood
golden dreams of Eldorado
may come true but only in your heart
Within the memory of man
the search for happiness has never ended
but the gates of Eden will ever be closed
for those conquitadores who are only hungry
for power and might
because the real Eldorado
isn´t made out of diamonds and gold
it´s the immortal yearning
for peace, love and understanding
in the hearts of everyone
Golden dreams of Eldorado...
they stole the gold of Mexico
killed the people one by one
only talking with their guns
Brave men locked on iron chains
all young mothers sold as slaves
babies crying through the night
will they ever see the light
Golden dreams of Eldorado
all have drowned in seas of pain and blood
golden dreams of Eldorado
may come true but only in your heart
Reach out your hand and you´ll be free
then we shall live in liberty
oh, will mankind ever learn
shall the whole world die and burn
Golden dreams of Eldorado
all have drowned in seas of pain and blood
golden dreams of Eldorado
may come true but only in your heart
Within the memory of man
the search for happiness has never ended
but the gates of Eden will ever be closed
for those conquitadores who are only hungry
for power and might
because the real Eldorado
isn´t made out of diamonds and gold
it´s the immortal yearning
for peace, love and understanding
in the hearts of everyone
Golden dreams of Eldorado...
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
We need to learn how to share
Professor Porndog seems to be absent from this office building today. Unless he (I assume that it's a he) has learnt that his porn is accessible from all our computers and has thusly decided not to share his unhealthy fantasies with the rest of the academic world. His willingness (in the past perhaps..) to share has made me think that maybe I should share stuff with the rest of the world too (apart from the fact that I've been blogging). Unfortunately it's nothing as unique as the images Professor Porndog has submitted, no it's just what I've been listening to lately, so here goes:- Omar Bashir's "Sound of Civilization". Ever so exotic and cool.
Iron & Wine's "Woman King". I just discovered this fab band and love it, love it and love it. It's been described as Indie-Folk and I suggest everyone get a copy of their cd.
Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit". This song always reminds me of one of my favourite films "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" and when I listen to it, I imagine I was at Woodstock...
Metallica's "One". What can I say; there's a little heavy metal fan inside all of us and Lars Ulrich's drums brings mine out.
Jimi Hendrix's "Fire". I blame Magni and Rockstar Supernova for this one. Darn TV!
I assembled this list because I have been unable to share my music on the Academy's network. I honestly don't get it, is my stuff not good enough for the network? Do I have to add some pervy porn-stuff to my playlist to get published in this place? Hey, maybe I'll send an e-mail to all my colleagues here and ask the guy who's sharing his "after school specials" for some assistance. You know, I might just do that...
Peace
Monday, September 18, 2006
A porndog ruined my working day
I think that one of my fellow scholars here at the Reykjavík Academy has sadly misunderstood the meaning of the phraze "anal-yze". Here I was working hard on a highly important topic concerning mortality in the eighteenth century when I thought to myself: "Hmm, maybe I should check out the shared files on I-Tunes to see if anyone's got some nice and mellow tunes for me to listen to while I work". Well, actually it was my desk mate who thought this, but as my world revolves around me, I had forgotten all about that when I wrote the previous sentence.
So anyway, much to our dismay, we discover that someone doesn't know enough about the privacy thingy on I-Tunes and has accidentally shared his girls-like-other-girls'-bottoms-a-tad-bit-too-much-for-our-taste videos. This has needless to say destroyed our working day and we have spent the last few hours cooking up conspiracy theories about which one of these distinguished scholars is a super-perv in hiding.
I hate it when pervs ruin my working mojo!
The new age girl in me?
 | You scored as Cultural Creative. Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational.
Peace! |
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
The queerness of relative X
Who would have believed that these five pretty boys could cause a riot? I can only say that it utterly caught me by surprise. So here's the story: Last night I was preparing for yet another exciting night in the life of the soon to be middle aged spinster. I was thinking about looking up cute cats online eligible for eating me (dead) sometime in the future when I pass away unannounced and nobody checks on me for weeks... (Darn ranting again).Anyway, I decided that a night in front of the evil box that produces pictures would be a nice change... I mean it had been a whole day since I had done something like that. I reached for the spinster’s Bible, the TV guide and immediately saw that before a double dose of a 24 rerun there was an episode of the fab five AKA queer eye for the straight guy. Oooooh, loverly I thought to myself as I rubbed my hands together in excitement. I then spoke to the relative who’s the proprietor of the evil box (let’s call this individual Relative X to protect the innocent) and suggested that we tune in on the boys.
However, relative X decided to use this opportunity to attack “the gays” and exclaim that it was certainly not ok to watch such things. According to relative X the fab five are poster-boys for gayness and bad, bad people. Under normal circumstances I would just laugh at this attitude and blame it on the generation gap between myself and relative X. Last night however, I had a bad headache and was thusly a wee bit under the weather. When relative X explained that the Gay Pride Parade was a tool to lure young minds into gayness, I sort of exploded a wee bit and the result was that I didn’t watch TV at all and left the room.
This is not the end of the story, you see my reaction to relative X’s prejudices caused further domestic disturbances… Relative X decided to confront me about my constant tendencies to defend “the gays” and ask since I had a bunch of gay friends whether some of their gayness had rubbed on to me…
This makes me think about my idol Homer Simpson who asked his son this question: He didn’t give you gay did he?
Yes it sure is a strange place we live in, I think I may tell relative X some of the stuff I’ve learned from the Simpsons such as “there’s a country called U r gay!”
Peace
Friday, September 08, 2006
Limitless women
I came across this stroke of genius and hope you all will enjoy as much as I did, after all we women do like the simple things in life like soft and furry kittens and cleaning the house with state of the art machinery: http://www.kleppur.is/Linkur.aspx?id=396&MainCat=-2Have a quiet and lovely weekend
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Lakagígar
This is the topic of my dissertation. I think it's breathtaking and maybe these pics will make you understand to some extent my fascination with this subject. Voila...
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Autumn autumn autumn
For the first time ever I embrace the coming of autumn and I think these pictures I took explain why. The rock in the North Atlantic becomes even more magical at this time of year when the shadows become longer and a mystical fog covers the mountaintops. What can I say, it fills me with a sense of enormous well-being walking amidst lava and moss with the cold, crisp autumn air filling my lungs. Yup, this country sure is an energy source for me.
Monday, September 04, 2006
The life and death of the real Mick Dundee
In other news it makes me sad to announce that Mr. Crikey is dead, killed by an angry stingray. Animal Planet will never be the same. I don't really know that much about this guy and everytime I saw him on TV he was saying something like: "Aaaw crikey, will ya look at the teeeath on that fella". I usually changed the channel after a bit, but now that he's gone I feel the Crocodileman deserves his own entry so this is my tribute to him. 
Peace!
Peace!
The aftermath
So the wedding is over. I had a fab time and didn’t get a chance to give a speech on how marvellous the groom is. In any case, the funniest experiences I’ve had with him don’t seem appropriate in a crowd of aunts and uncles. The speech would have sounded something like: “I remember this one time when he was soooo drunk, oops…”. I also didn’t catch the bouquet since the bride informed me that I was the only single woman present when the thing would have been tossed, which I think is a bit unfair because then I would have caught it for sure.
Yes, there is only me left being single in this group of friends and again I am surprised that my friends don’t name their toddlers after me, mini-Björk or mini-Bjarki would inherit a fortune (that is after I make my fortune from my amazing best-seller sometime in the near future). They would also have all my attention and I would shower them with presents and sugar bombs and then return them spoiled rotten to their natural parents. Hmm, maybe they are right to name their kids after somebody else.
I have also been having strange dreams lately. The most vivid dream was that I had bought a lovely flat next to my childhood home. I was decorating it Björk-style and had put up my dream Tintin wallpaper. The only non-realistic aspect of the dream was that I was married to Johnny Cash. The weirdest thing however, was that I found out when I woke up that the flat is actually for sale. So now, I just need to find the Cash and make the owner an offer he can’t refuse (please hum Godfather tune). Maybe you think that my dream house looks like this...
Yes, there is only me left being single in this group of friends and again I am surprised that my friends don’t name their toddlers after me, mini-Björk or mini-Bjarki would inherit a fortune (that is after I make my fortune from my amazing best-seller sometime in the near future). They would also have all my attention and I would shower them with presents and sugar bombs and then return them spoiled rotten to their natural parents. Hmm, maybe they are right to name their kids after somebody else.
I have also been having strange dreams lately. The most vivid dream was that I had bought a lovely flat next to my childhood home. I was decorating it Björk-style and had put up my dream Tintin wallpaper. The only non-realistic aspect of the dream was that I was married to Johnny Cash. The weirdest thing however, was that I found out when I woke up that the flat is actually for sale. So now, I just need to find the Cash and make the owner an offer he can’t refuse (please hum Godfather tune). Maybe you think that my dream house looks like this...
And maybe you are right...but then again maybe you are not...
