Afraid to ask (!?)

Thursday means pea soup accompanied by pancakes. Obviously I only wanted pancakes. But as I approached the counter my mouth froze, hypnotically ordered the full set and sat down. Quietly stirring the bowl of soup with some contempt. To the soup of course, but perhaps more at myself.
Next time…

Shave/no shave

So. As a follow up from the last post. What has this meant to a person’s face, one might think. Well. Someone hasn’t had a proper shave for a couple of weeks that I admit. Just a random trimmed, half-neat/half-wannabe-sexy look.
Ok, sleaze ball.

Grand theft razor

Lost my Gilette razor a few weeks ago. But I’m sure I didn’t lose it. It’s just gone. All gone. Despite the “mess” I have in my room – it’s still an organized mess – I know where I have things and if someone else would change/move/remove anything I’d notice (and it would mess up the whole organization/orientation).

Ok, so we’ve settled a third party broke into my room and stole it. Fine.

"So buy a new one", someone thinks out loud, clearly unashamed of his or hers lack of intelligence.

- I don’t want to buy just another Gilette-razor. Why? New arrival in stores today – it’s the Gilette Fusion Power Phenom – and I loove new things/flavors/arrivals/etc/etc. Can you even imagine how impeccable my face will look after some strokes with that puppy? I can’t. But dying to find out.

Stay Hungry Stay Foolish

Someone sent me an email. “Stay hungry, stay foolish”, she wrote. Bells rang but I couldn’t place it. I couldn’t place what I knew is one of my favorite quotes.

And of course it’s from the Stanford Commencement Speech. Something you should pretty much watch, say, once a day as inspiration.

I KNEW it would happen

Damn it.
I no longer have this distinct compulsory-urge to constantly listen to KOL.

Score

What strikes me the most about the trailer of Frost/Nixon is that they use the same unbelievably great score by Clint Mansell, from the always-underestimated film, The Fountain. My ears can take hours of that with immense ease.
Same thing when Lord Of The Rings used, yes same Clint’s, score from Requiem For A Dream, (no, I don’t care if Mozart composed it). That Clint is one hell of a Clint.

I'm sure it's a great film btw.

It's called a Turkish Shower

You don’t want a strange (ie pure, natural and thus far disclosed) odor to follow you to work. That’s why I turned around this morning after I’d left home to return and put on some fragrance.

And that sums up a piece of shared information even before we dwell into the fact that I didn’t do my run this morning (ie no shower either then).

Work-hours?

The place where I spend my hours makes me puzzled. I’m not sure what hours they have here. Sure something says nine to five.

But who ever do that (except some here at the office)?

Usually you’re the last one at night anyway. And didn’t a really smart person say that work-hours should be individually shaped. Meaning, if you’re a morning person you’re very much welcome as early as you wish. And for those who prefer to sleep then (obviously meetings and appointments and yadi-yadi-yadi are excluded of course) can come in whenever they wake up.

As long as you do the work you might as well be in Bahamas (they have internet too – yes, they do).

I’m scared when I come in five minutes late (seldom) and horrified at ten minutes (standard). I’m also too scared to ask. Or is it that I couldn’t be bothered. That my soul, perhaps isn’t here, but out ----- there. In the big ‘ol place called abroad.

A perplex review* of Slumdog Millionaire

Some have seen the trailer I guess. Looks amazing and makes you want to see it and hope for your own destiny to come knocking on your door (or a TV-show to call), doesn’t it?
Well.
The film is good. Even, occasionally, great.

But I was one of those poor souls who did watch that stupid trailer (amazing trailer as a trailer though). And despite the film is being setup the way it was – you knew what was going to happen. I mean we’ve seen films jumping in time-order/years/between-stories before – it’s not that. It’s the way the trailer is setup against to what the film delivers.
I don’t want to see scenes that standout in a trailer and wait for them to come. And when they haven't – you know it will come – cause you've seen it in the trailer and it is no surprise anymore. But the movie builds it up as if it is suppose to be a surprise.
It annoyed me.

What made me really go hurrah though is the way they reinvented subtitles. Now who says they should always be perfectly aligned white text on black? Hurrah!
But ok, it's beautiful. She's stunning and cinematography - isn't the very best - but good enough to make me smile and remember it.
I want to see it again.


* More of a comment on the trailer vs the film, I guess.

Ok, perhaps not so "hot"

So it’s not a real gala-premiere on Thursday. Apparently that happened last night. Guess I won’t be seeing fat Swedish celeb’s then.

Something I should perhaps know – my friend were the designated driver to take the Danish director to the theatre yesterday.

Funny story here.

When the director saw that one of the stars of the film (Noomi) had a white limo waiting to take here there, and spotted the car he was supposed to be driven in – he simply refused to sit in it. "No way I’m getting into that one – she, she’s got a white limo", he perhaps said. Even funnier when we all know how comical an angry Danish sounds like.

And my friend drove there alone.

Premiere...

Going to this “big movie premiere of the year – heck – decade, on Thursday. The first film of the Millennium trilogy about these fictional characters Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomkvist who solves crimes and yadi-yadi-yadi; Men Who Hate Women.

Everyone’s super-excited and can barley sit still. All they want to do is chitchat around someone’s – anyone’s – desk and express their expectations, thoughts etc etc. Where even gonna have drinks and food here with everyone’s spouse invited (yep, going solo!) as a “get together before”.

I can mildly say that I couldn’t care less. I have a really hard time with these kinds of movies. These Swedish movies. I hate when Sweden goes half-Hollywood, but hard-hit lands somewhere where they wish they were close to Bollywood.
Two-hours and forty-minutes nap on Thursday coming up. Nice.

Awkward

Ever had one of those meetings where you think you meet for the first time, but your counterpart surely recognizes multiple encounters. So you play along.
And smile.
Perhaps act like you are on the same page. But you know the entire you, looks puzzled. Keep telling yourself, not to talk or ask too much, what if “you’re supposed to know this”. Probably come off as a slight retard with no social skills. A puzzled retard with a smile. Could be worse I guess.

This I LOVE

A few bricks of Lego, a little bit of passion a slice of imagination add a stint of naiveté and woolah. And that’s all you really need.Watch it all from hero, Christoph Niemann.

Dave loves them too

Listen to, and especially for Dave – wild enthusiasm, at the end of the song.

There is something about this trailer…

Something that amuses me more than the regular horror flicks.

Hamburger Menu ‘09 (wtf!?)

Bought a Hamburger menu at the local grill. Returned with a burger and a Coke Zero (hell if I’m gonna gain excess weight just because it’s lunch) but no fries.
Turned out it wasn’t even included in the so-called menu. Well. Where and when did I miss all the big changes here in the world?
Luckily enough we still have KOL.

So very weird

Woke up outrageously tired but got the up same time as always. Did my run and for some extremely peculiar reason I noticed I was back half-an hour (!) earlier than usual. Great. Maybe I’ll be in time this morning I thought and smiled.
And yes, this is a very rhetorical post, so there’s no “surprise” or “punch-line” to this story, as I was exactly as late as I habitually am.

Nevermind it’s Monday, we’ll always have KOL

I can’t stop listening to them. It’s one of my many flaws. I let it go on stupid repeat until I (almost) hate it. I do it to all, everything and everyone. Very much all-in, if you ask me.

Lunch today

I can see myself having something completely reckless.
That, I can admit.

Just because you assume someone is a Polish prostitute doesn’t mean you’re right

- So, where are you from?
- (Unclear response)
- Huh?
- (Unclear response)
- Eh…I’m sorry, where?
- Småland!

So nice

It’s great I’m not hangover at all, nor tired and wanna go home.

Sleep-coma!!

It usually strikes the way it did just now. Hard. Ruthless. And without any notification.

It’s one of those days

When all you want to listen to is this.

I’m winning the Olympics

I always fly high when I run. A diverse hero, rescuer, multiple-time winner of multiple-different events/sports/activities, etc, etc. I've been it all. A lot and often*.
It keeps me motivated, something to strive for (you never know…) and gets me out of bed.
But lately I’ve been having the same occurring dream. I win the Olympics on 10 000m. Obviously finishing the last 200m faster than Bolt’s record time (that is only shown in replay when a very smart commentator/producer decides to match our runs against each other).
"Wow amazing! What a finish!"
The thing is, it still happens in Beijing. I’ll be 31 when London goes off, and that doesn’t really do it for me.
27 is good. "The impossible triumph by the unknown 27-year old Swede."
And I personally take huge pleasure of winning in front of fanatic Chinese on the stands. But that's just me.

* always.

Never seem to learn…

Damn it. Didn’t do my run this morning. And yet again, I feel like Officer Jim Kurring in Magnolia when he’s lost his gun.
– I feel like a fool.
And another yet again – not once have I ever regretted that I went for a run.
But always regret the ones I don’t.