A LEGO Stormtrooper Christmas

Yet another irrational decision

far too many good TV-shows are made nowadays. The US of A is really good at producing them and they come in numbers. It started way before the most recent boom (e.g. Sex & The City, Sopranos) and has started to out-do even the most daring Hollywood budget. Main reason why they’re so darn good, besides having the enormous budget is, time. Time to develop characters and story worthy of your interest (compare to any given “cozy rom-com” nowadays and you catch my drift). And time is also its own Achilles heal. You have more choices sitting in your sofa with the remote and its zillions of options a simple click away, than in a theatre (basically one then; leave before it ends – but then what?) and TV-makers knows this. But most of all – they respect that, and repay it with some bad ass TV-shows.

I try to be very selective when it comes to new TV shows. Basically cause I know they’ll be great. That’s why I haven’t seen a single second of a single episode of Sopranos for instance. I don’t have time to be captivated by yet another show. It consumes me. I get greedy. I want to have it all. Now. Cause time, is not your ally here. Waiting for a new episode every week doesn’t work. I need to download the whole series and watch it in one scope. Like I did when I bought the full Season 3 of Lost at 10pm on Friday night and finished it 4am Saturday night/morning. That was great. That’s how it should be consumed.

And now, as my selectiveness has expanded, heck I haven’t even had time to watch the series I really want to watch (hello, Eastbound & Down – I apologize – I will come for you, and not to mention finishing season two of Mad Men (3 is airing now) and take on the most recent season of Lost so I can catch up when the last one airs – soon! And The Wire – all the great things I’ve heard about you; can’t wait to confirm them – I know I will), I’ve catapulted myself into two series I never intended to follow. The Ultimate Fighter and True Blood. Both very different from each another but both equally addictive. And it’s all because of my brother, roommate and best friend, Staffan. I curse him – cause I have no choice. What am I supposed to do when he puts it on? Leave? Do something productive with my time? Hell no. I’m hooked.


*They aren’t.

Hands off fool!

Rio just sent me this link and instant memories from a remote past comes flying. The A-Team remembered how much I loved them and related the most with Murdoch, despite Face was obviously prettier. Baby: Secret of the Lost Legend, Back To The Future, Knight Rider, He-Man, you name it they got a sticker from it.

Eye of the tiger

I had just finished Rocky III and had visible goose bum all over my skin. Never had I seen such grace and athletics glued together by immense bravery and courage. All impersonated by this tiny man.

And now, as he had beaten the contender and obvious threat to the entire US nations, Mr T, the music emerged. Oh dear lord. Still to this date my biggest music influential moment when Survivor hit those cords.

And here’s when my early producing/develop-skills began and ended on the same evening. I plugged in a cassette tape in my record player, placed it next to the TV and told everyone in the apartment to be absolutely quiet.

I had to redo it over-and-over again… but the sound just wouldn’t stick to it the way it was on the TV. It sounded like it was trapped in a box. I was as furious as naively persistent.

But by the time night came, my mom gently tapped me on the shoulder and said it was time for bed and that it was a new day tomorrow. Parents. Never do they fully understand or appreciate the value of literally seizing the day.

It’s funny when a simple touch becomes funny

But this Star Wars / MacGyver opening only makes me think of the cartoon “Gummi Beers”. O well. Soon, beer.




Ok, so perhaps not so similar after all, but that's besides the point.
Back to; soon, beer.

Never wait for a good time to nap. You just have to take it.Don't expect it to come - grab it. Bom.

Got up pretty early this morning, convinced to take a nap later on. As things turned out, I noticed from my vertical position that I've been too busy (moving back and forth between the sofa-bed-kitchen might not seem much at first - but somebody has to do it) and can honestly say I didn't have time.

And now, when I just want to crash, I realized it's less than ten minutes before The Footballchannel begins on TV. Yieeiy.

Cause what is simple in the moonlight by the morning never is

Extreme real-life tragic

Watched Stockholm-Arlanda, which is a reality show about Sweden’s major airport about the people working there and folks who travel there/via/to Arlanda.

Yesterday we got the opportunity to meet the couple Svensson. They’d been together for 30 years but the last six months had been some sort of injection to their relationship (no idea what) that made them want to do what they’d always dreamed of. Getting married.

Hurrah! you think and clinch your fist in conduct to the fact that real, true love persevere even a long, dull relationship.

Then something weird unveiled before our bemused eyes. The Svensson’s wanted to get married at Arlanda Airport. Wedding chapel, hurrah! you yell in happiness. But no, the door was unlocked to what must have been the most concealed room at the entire airport.
A tragic table, some aged chairs, a lot of strange, dull posters displaying aircrafts of some kind on the wall and an old overhead machine poorly hidden in the corner filled the grey room with its sheer nothingness.

But the tragic almost culminated when we saw the newly weds sitting outside in the departure hall, toasting their marriage in cheap champagne, while empty, lit down Tax Free stores tried to hide in the background, and the man raises his glass and says, “Good luck”.

Out or not out

Am experiencing some difficult decisions. Some hard issues to confront.
Thing is. Tomorrow is Gustaf’s birthday and we will all go bowl during the day and after I've striked away he’s having some drinks at his place and we’ll probably head out afterwards. Fair enough. All good.
But whatabouttonight then. Well yes, that’s what’s troubling yours truly. Should I “just head our for a short little while, and head home very early" or "remain seated" at Erik’s. continue "doing nothing".
This is to be taken very seriously, I reckon.
That’s why I won’t leave it to none other than the hands of the one-and-only-master.
Chance, what do you say, is it my destiny to go out tonight or is it by sheer accident I’ll go out?
And remember, as far as we know it, despite what anyone else says about rebirth, reincarnation and yadi-yadi, (no one in the world really remembers their past life anyway) we only live once.

Underestimated

Lately I’ve been having a lot of…spare time, so to speak. Not doing anything forces a great deal of strange habits. Watching the Ellen Show to mention one.
Which isn’t so weird to be honest. It’s actually amongst the top talk shows in the US. Letterman, unquestionable first, Conan of course, the guy who fucked Ben Affleck, but I mean she beats Jaws by far.
So what’s so strange about it then one might ask and refer to my opening of this note.
Well. My friends and I were sitting talking, and for whatever reason the Ellen Show came up as topic of discussion. And everyone unanimously agreed she was a second-class talk show host and everyone who came to her show was either a second-class celeb, or being cruelly punished for something they’d done in their career, at a celeb-party or having humped the wrong spouse of someone top-exec somewhere.
And I quietly nod my head in agreement. Like a lousy, coward dog I didn’t step up (or spoke up) and told them they were wrong. That the Ellen show is actually one of the most underestimated shows in television and way better than Jaws and (probably) only beaten by a few better shows.
But I didn’t. I never want to experience that chap again.
So here’s her redemption. At a widely read blog. This one’s for you, Ellen.
You’re funny.

Late hours

Got home 3am…ehm, today.
It’s loads of fun, but it’s crazy, people work so much here.
Getting home early means you’ve probably done something wrong.
Like the feeling when you stayed home from school, and when your mom asked you why you weren’t there, you cocky replied that there’s no school; day off, remembering the teacher mentioned something about not coming back tomorrow as you left yesterday.
Just to discover that your class is all off to an excursion looking at flowers; conscience crawling under your quilt like eczema.
What what’s gonna happen with my life, I must tell mom; maybe she can drive me.
Then you switch on the TV and discover cartoon Transformers is on, so you ponder the options.
Evil Decepticons taking over the world vs biology.
Knowing that Prime’ll need all the support he can get and that flowers will, most certainly continue to grow anyway, and you suddenly cough.
No way, the flu? Don't want to infect the flowers and damage the process.
And now, I sit here smiling, thinking about the toxic pollution here, and that an unwatched Indiana Jones part four eagerly waits at home.
I’m not desperately tired, but I am starting to feel unexpectedly ill.
But then again, Prime and Bumblebee did make it, and those flowers did smell awfully nice, eh?

First time

Imagine this kid, glued to the TV. The presenter has just announced that a brand new show is coming up next.
First episode ever of Björnes Magasin.
The claustrophobic sense of time-encapsulation is attacking from all angles. He wants to tear a hole in space, throw his excitement there and seal it with a sigh.
Almost bouncing he feels that the tears are near, but restrains himself, he knows from experience that moist eyes won’t be of advantage when watching TV. He's ready.
But this kid’s excitement of being part of this imprint of Swedish television, introduced to a new, fresh cartoon bear-character and his best-mate; Snigel, can only be measured by the disillusionment of what the brilliant cartoon-intro revealed.
Björne doesn’t look animated at all. It’s a guy in a bear suite.
Even a kid with his chest jam-packed of anticipation and clustered eyes of excitement can tell you that.

How Björne and Snigel really looks like.