My evening off

I tend to overfill my calendar. It sucks. I want to sit at home and vegetate antisocially, reading, knitting, or watching telly, or ANYTHING that doesn't involve going anywhere to do anything with anyone.

Last night was my night off. Generally it's supposed to be filled with blissful nothing from 4 pm, followed by a sauna at 9 pm and one ritual can of dry cider. After which, the rock'n'roll monster that I am, I nod off in front of the telly for a moment and go beddie-byes. Instead, I did two loads of laundry, washed three days worth of dishes, hung my two loads of laundry up to dry, cooked a vegetable quiche and fetched my fucking laundry in. And had a sauna. Is it any wonder, after all that splashing, that I continue to feel a bit weak & watery, quite washed out, a little watered down?

*groan*

Behavioural guidelines

Never, ever throw anything off a tenth-floor balcony, except occasionally, a snowball.

Ok, so now I am a little disturbed

It is fairly easily done. But someone landed on my site having googled the words "boiled alive". I would like to think they weren't disappointed. But.

Beware, I'm going theatrical again

We started rehearsing our spring production yesterday, Jean Genet's Maids (I am Solange). The play is based on a true story - two pious little maids went berserk in France in the 1930s, and got rid of their employers in a fairly graphic manner. Given my habit of in-character face-pulling actions when reading/going over my lines in public, I hate to think what this'll make me look like. Glad I won't have to sit next to me on the bus this Spring. (If you do follow that link, be warned, it's really rather harrowing.)

Afterwards saw Ville Valo in the pub. I nearly asked him for his autograph (for my son, I hasten to add - I know about his handshake, remember!) but then bottled out. An endearing side to Finland is how our big celebs and politicians actually drink & shop with us plebs. Of the four presidents we've had in my lifetime (one was in forever, hence so few) I have seen three amongst his/her subjects, pretty much casually minding their own business. I once saw the current pres Halonen shopping at my local grocery shop, with one female minder only. Apparently Halonen also goes to the same belly-dance lessons as my friend Arabella.

Yawn

There may be something fundamentally wrong with me, but I am increasingly fed up with the genitalia-orientatedness of our (current?) Western culture, mostly evident in the entertainment business but noticable in other walks of life too. I just cannot be amused, titillated, entertained by who someone does it with, how, when, where, how often or - hilariously! - seldom, or indeed, never (ha! ha! that's a real killer).

Kiddies. This may come as a surprise, but - sex is for procreation. That is precisely why it feels nice. We are all programmed to want to reproduce, your biology wants it even if you don't, so don't kid yourselves.

Signed, Bored Shitless of Helsinki

Ho-hum, it's called life

Cooking dinner late at night for my children who won't come home.

Tongue Twisters, Translated

The water-demon hissed in an elevator. (Vesihiisi sihisi hississä.)
The black cat's fat cheeks. (Mustan kissan paksut posket.)
The bean-pot of the assistant chaplain of Appila's chaplaincy boils and foams on the hob. (Appilan pappilan apupapin papupata pankoolla kiehuu ja kuohuu.)
I'll wind the R around the pole, S I'll put in my pocket. (Ärrän kierrän ympäri orren, ässän pistän taskuun.)
Don't torment the poor corncrake! - But I am not tormenting [it]! (Älä rääkkää rääkkä raukkaa! - En mä rääkkääkkään!)
Gather up the whole bonfire! - The whole bonfire? - The whole bonfire. (Kokoo kokoon koko kokko! - Koko kokkoko? - Koko kokko.)

(The Finnish-language originals in brackets. I am aware of some flaws in the translations - orsi is not really a pole, pankoo not really a hob. But some things have no translation, and sometimes the words are lost in time and the translator's poor mind.)

Ok, so god knows what makes me want to post such stuff.

Shit

My tracker has stopped working since I upgraded to layout. (Not that I have been receiving/deserving that much attention as of late, but still.) Bugger. And I did work so hard to cut-and-paste the html onto the new site. Rats.

Shrove Sunday, anyone?

I don't think it exists in the English-speaking world - and even Shrove Tuesday is probably better known as Pancake Day. However, in Finland we are lucky enough to have both a Sunday and a Tuesday dedicated to sledding and eating a special baked good filled with whipped cream and strawberry jam and/or marzipan. Laskiainen is the name of the day. Clicking on the link will allow you to see what it's all about:

"Holy shit I'm gonna die heeheehee"

What the blazes...?

Someone has somehow gone onto my flickr site and, it appears, "glued" a picture of a meerkat-like creature atop a picture of my dear friend Kanikoski. If you click on the image of the meerkat-in-attack-pose, though, out comes Kani again. How do they do it? And why? And who?

Own up, culprit, and I may allow you to keep your sorry life.

About time

I have, until now, been posting under Hawai'ian time. I hope I have now managed to change into EET.

You may also note I took down the other hemisphere, the Pacific one. It seemed like courting attention on false grounds, given I don't live there anymore.

Heights

Every time I go on my balcony, I think of jumping. It's what being above tree tops does to me. I don't have a death wish, it's just how easy it would be that bothers my mind.

I have

my great auntie's slippers and my grandmother's mittens. What more can I ask for in life?