Coming soon:
My best and worst purchases!

The new "it" girl / sucker...
Hello darling. Lately I've been in the papers a lot. Doing stupid things. The thing is, I keep calling them (the papers) up to publicize the Company and what's going on here and then they grab me: Oh, would you mind answering a quick question. Can you answer it right now?

Anxious to please my benevolent patrons and wanting to create a good atmosphere for me to exploit later on (hee hee) I say YES.

So, the notches in my belt so far are:
My Dream House!
My Dream Weekend!
My First Appartment!
What I'm Reading!

My Favourite Piece of Furniture! Got cancelled when I told them how often I'd been in one of these columns...

It's kindof funny, really!
This is not to count the times that I've actually managed to find someone else
to do this for me (usually it's a "Do it now!" kind of thing).

Ooh, if I made this like a mission, I could be famous! Famous, I tell you!
The paparazzi would flock at my door! Exes would be paid handsomely for intimate
details of our lovelife!

Ok, I quit. I'll quit now. Give the public a break.
The wonderful, adoring public...

he he

Bloody theatre is filled with FM957 people (audience awards for the worst radio station in the country)(incidentally, also the most popular one). Lord have mercy. I wasn't told this was gonna happen when I signed up for this job.
Thank God it's only once a year. I don't like intruders. Especially intruders with a deep tan (in January. In Iceland.), stripes in their hair and uh, whatever these kids are wearing these days...

Super powers. I just need superpowers. I've got the disguise thing covered, you see. Although it's not altogether very original - kindof stolen from Clark Kent. You see, apparently people don't recognize me with/without my glasses (depends on how they know me, see). I think this is amazing.

And people treat you differently according to whether or not you have glasses.
Marilyn, bless her heart, coined the phrase in "How to marry a millionarie" (I think it was) when she said "Men don't make passes on women with glasses"
(note the rhyme, the rhyme is what's important here)
If I ask for a bank loan I deffinitely wear glasses. If I want to dress up and go out... well, contacts are a given.

I don't have superpowers, though. Some skills, but not superpowers. I can do makeup and I can type really fast. Maybe I was a secretary in a past life and got fed up with the sexist system and killed my boss with a potted plant.

And got reborn as this :/

Bah, I live a good life now. Should come back a-ok next time round.
(Unless I kill my boss with a potted plant again)
(highly unlikely)

Another crazy week gone by. I foresee a relaxed week in June, though. Just counting down the hours! Hee hee... this year I hope to go sailing in the Mediterranian. And get a tan. Hopefully not a spotted tan.
I might be being followed. Went to Penninn in Hallarmúli and then Vínbúð in Árbær... and the same guy was after me in the queue. Queue is a weirdly spelled word. Or perhaps I just spell it weirdly. Anyway. Scatterbrainorama.
I've been alone at work today, dancers having a day off and the other people at the office working from home. This makes me slightly odder than usual. Alone with too much caffeine. Today is day six without television since my landlords still haven't fixed the antenna. Maybe they are trying to get rid of me and found the one thing that would get me moving... Ach fuck it. Have a VISA card and a DVD player... I don't know why they are so afraid to go on the roof of a 3 story house in the crazy frost and cold and darkness. A landlord's gotta do what a landlord's gotta do. Suddenly I'm very glad I don't own my own flat. That would mean me going up on a roof. (Guess who won't be joining Fear Factor anytime soon)
(Although I am available for Survivor, I can eat bugs. Not fish, but bugs.)(I'd be the first contestant to perfect the arts of bow-making and hunting birds)(this skill with my sunny nature/guileless cunning (oximoron?) would guarantee me the prize)
Have a marvelous weekend, ya hear?

I have filled out an application to get a home phone. That means I'm grown up. And smarter than you!
At least grown up.

It's a good number too, I chose it myself. Verra, verra nice.

I've been cruising myspace a bit, and now I have a minority complex. I am neither a model with fancy artsy photographs or a bubblingly impulsive and creative artist. Bubbling and crazy, perhaps. Not sure that cuts it. I want to know how to make my photographs move. Moving images, what a novel idea. I'll work on that one.

If you never look at anyone else, you'll feel great about yourself.
If you never look at anybody else's work, you'll feel great about your own.
Maybeeee... nope. I wouldn't like to go blind. Maybe blinders? Blinders and very dark sunglasses until I'm in the safety of my own home. Which is ompleeetely created by me.
Or, I could move to a desert island... Darnit, Jan Mayen is occupied.

Dear God - must not fail to mention: I started Thai Box classes with Ransý and Doja. Except we didn't do any boxing the first time. A lot of pushups etc. But no boxing. Maybe next time. If I can move.
My trainer's name is Kojak.

Dear God. Just had a horrific epiphany. I am Ratbert.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. Who on earth wrote that lyric? And why did he or she do it? What on earth were they thinking?

There's just something about January that brings you down. Months and months of cold and darkness ahead, without the nice little carrot of Xmas to look forward to. January is when it becomes very difficult to wake up in the morning, when you get home from work and just want to sleep or cry or drink a whole lot of red-wine and wake up in February. Or better yet, Easter vacation.

I'm going to see Dagur vonar tonight and hopefully I will do something marvellous and exciting to tide me over till next weekend...
(is my joie de vivre fading a bit?)

Sweat.
Not Sweet, sweat, as in perspiration.
That's what I did! Oh, boyoboy!
I went to Sweat. Which is a kindof Indian tent, heated up like crazy
with stones that have been on a bonfire for two hours (they are about 700-900 degrees Celcius, making the top of the tent over 100 degrees hot)(so don't try sitting up too straight). Then they splashed water on the stones and everything gets filled with very hot steam.
Let me start from the beginning.

There are these two guys who organize this Indian ritual, and you go with a
group of people to experience, uhm, something or other. Depends on what you expect and are open too, I guess. You are greeted at a bonfire, where one of them tells you your color and what your year is going to be like. This would be warm and cozy, normally, but yesterday was really cold, rainy and windy (me wearing classical Icelandic Winter Wardrobe - jeans and cowboy-boots) After that we go in the house, get cleansed (spiritually, you see, with a feather)(not too big on the particulars) and dance in a room for about an hour. After that you slip into a bathing suit (or similar) and go out into this little, low tent, waiting for five cycles of chanting and sweating in extreeeeme heat(more than you have EVER done in your life). For two and a half hours. Unfortunately the spirit of my ancestors did not appear to me, nor did my animal spirit - I guess the spirits of the buffalo and the hummingbird (that we chanted thanks to) did not know their way to Iceland.

After that we went back inside the house for some warm soup and bread, very yummy.
That's quite a brief summary of a very long and intense evening. What was it like? Well, I think focusing on your spirit and having a good sauna is good for everybody. I could have done with a little less, uhm, spirituality... some of it went just a wee bit overboard, which is difficult for someone a bit more, uhm, sceptical, let's say. But it did sum up to a very nice, cleansing evening and I can tell you two things: My skin feels maaaarvelous now, and I woke up feeling completely rested and relaxed for the first time in months.

On another subject:
By my account all the magazines in Iceland, except Grapevine, are owned by the same people now. (And perhaps some periodicals dedicated to specific groups, say Orthodontists' weekly and such, are still owned by other groups.)
THIS IS SCARY. If you have any information that might prove me wrong, please do. I'm almost begging you.

Happy New Year! May you have a good one, with lots of happiness, wisdom, comfort, money, love, etc.
I had a great time this holiday, with quality time with friends and family, jolly good presents, a graduation party and a thirty year old birthday party (not mine, I'm still very young, mind you), and New Year's Eve, of course -with crazy explosions and a party etc.

Pet peeves (has to be in Icelandic, sorry)
Verstu slagorð ársins 2006
1. Flott síðan alltaf
2. Og hafið sagði ókei
Ég geri mér grein fyrir að ,,og hafið sagði ókei" sé úr ljóði eftir, uh, Stein Steinarr, ekki satt? En það tók nú smá tíma og basically þá pirrar þetta mig. Ég held að kannski 2% þjóðarinnar kannist við tilvísunina og án ljóðsins er þetta bara SLÆMT slógan. Og Flott síðan alltaf? Hvað í ósköpunum, lærði þetta fólk aldrei málfræði? Og Habitat fólk - hafiði nú búðina örlítið snyrtilega - hvað er með að troða svona í búðina, hafandi pappakassa á miðjum þröngum göngustígum etc. Má fólk í hjólastól ekki versla í búðinni eða hvað? Þetta pirrar mig svakalega - og í samneyti við þetta hræðilega slagorð þá bara get ég ekki orða bundist. Já, og ég veit að þessi færsla er morandi í málfarsvillum. En ég er ekki að auglýsa!

ANYWHO. Enough with the whining - I'll give you a true sad story now.
Please refrain from crying, I assure you all went well in the end.
On boxing day I went to spend the night with my aunt in Borgarnes. The next day I was helping her move stuff around when my back gives up. Just quits. With pain! We somehow manage to get me into the basement, lying on a couch when the pain just gets worse and worse - cramping at the least bit of a toe-wiggle. We ended up calling for a doctor who gave me intravenous morphine to ease the cramps that were causing the bulk of the pain. After that I still couldn't walk, though, although at the end of the night I could manage to crawl on all four... crawl to the bathroom to puke from the morphine etc. Yey! Very dignified.
I think I was a good patient, though. Not too whiny. Well, after the first few hours at least. I imaigned myself being stuck in the basement of my aunt's forever, like the big family secret, of sorts - hidden away... becoming an expert Singstar player, singing "I'm so lonely" at the top of my lungs. (I was in the TV room, see, with the PS2)

Good thing was that the thing I had been carrying was my new sofa - which my dad then picked up from Borgarnes and threw the other one away along with my brother in law (the sofa - not my brother in law).

So goodbye Klippan and hello (albeit a bit ironically, given the peeve) Habitat!

Anywho, am back at work now. Yey. And must stop blogging and start doing some work.
Catch you later, darling.