Photo Booth fail or Photo Booth good-surprise?
So apparently Apple have made something new for the market. Oh my fucking god a brand new iPad mini, you say?! “That is just to cum over” are you probably thinking. But I’m not so impressed.
Let me first tell you I’m a proud owner of a destroyed iPhone 3GS and a new MacBook Air. Two products you seriously could cum over. I could and I have, to be frank. I take all of my previous bad words back about Apple – cause they really know their shit.
But one thing that really pisses me off – pisses me off to the moon – is how stupid we are and how Apple is abusing this for their advantage. Think about it: who needs a fucking iPad MINI when there are iPhones, MacBooks and iPads on the market? Do you really – and I mean REALLY – need an iPad MINI?!?! Its fucking bigger than a brand new iPhone 5 and yet smaller than an iPad and maybe weighs 100 grams less or more, but other than that it is a completely useless product for me. I feel so fooled and so pathetic, flashing my Apple products in school when they actually just raped the world from behind by making their old ideas smaller and therefore fooling the entire world – so much, that people wait 15 hours in the fucking cold to get one while the people behind Apple sit in their 10.000 dollars offices, sipping on their fat-free-soya-macchiato and laughing at us for being so easy and stupid.
The new iPad mini ISN’T a revolutionary fucking thing. It’s just a smaller iPad, and isn’t the new iPad great enough as it is? Seriously dude.
Now I will take a shower and wash all the nastyness of me.
early morning zombie, being bathroom-narcissistic in my university
So one thing I wasn’t prepared for when I started to study medicine, was all the goddamn parties. If my liver could talk, it would ask me to go fuck myself pretty heavily. Sorry liver, it wasn’t my intention to mess you up like a used-up hooker.
With that said, this past time have been so crazy, that my brain cells are suffering from permanent damages. I had millions, now I have none. It’s scary, huh? One day, hopefully, I’m a doctor and you will be my patient. If you knew how fucked medicine students are, you would just handle your operation on the kitchen table instead. I really don’t get how you can stay sane studying this extremely difficult education with extremely intakes of alcohol every week. Let’s see if I become a doctor before my body shuts down on me.
Another thing I wasn’t prepared for either was how insanely stupid I actually am. Like really godawful-braindead-american-cheerleader-movie stupid. I don’t and haven’t understood a shit of what I have been reading the past 2 months, and it seems to get worse. Everybody keeps telling me it will come, like a sun on a cloudy sky (or something) one ugly-turns-beautiful day. I keep telling them there are more full of shit than I am, but still they somehow believe in me or quite frankly just feel sorry for me. I haven’t quite figured that out yet.
But they say hard work pays off. If studying from 7 in the morning to 7 in the evening isn’t hard work, I will become a prostitute. Easy and fast earning money as well. Win-win.
Maybe I should stop rambling and go to bed. I’m looking 10 years older, my tits are hanging on my shoes, my skin is going through puberty again, my ass is softer than two pillows and I’m getting fat. And even though that are some shitty things studying medicine does to my body – ALREADY – I’m still in love with every single, fat-adding-to-my-body-and-ass day.
Maybe you should have worked on being the perfect man for me, asshole? Have you ever thought like that instead of chasing this unrealistic, pathetic dream of how your ideal woman should be?
So you think you have to work on yourself until you achieve the final state of “good man” and then your price will be the girl of your dreams, standing in line in a grocery shop with coconut oil and mango in her hands? No, you stupid fool. You met the perfect woman already and she was right at your door. The most unbelievable great, smart, beautiful woman you could ever meet in this fucked up western world with fucked up western needs. You were so unbelievably lucky that you met her while you still were the most imperfect, ungrateful man you can be. You are just that lucky, mate. And even though this perfect woman deserves better than you, you should have fought for her. This fight would have made you perfect, would have made you complete. But instead you chose the easy way out again. You chose your uncertainty, which in the end will do noting for you than bring you down.
You chose to be incomplete and alone. Now: go fuck yourself with everyone else.
I’m full of shit. This blog is full of shit. You are full of shit. We all are full of shit. Your mother shits shit. My picture looks like shit, and yes – there’s shit on my face.
What a ride I’ve had with the boys the last couple of months. Of course a “ride” in an almost non-sexual way. I’ve met crazy guys, who punched me while they were sleeping, and guys who were too limited emotionally. Guys, who just wanted to fuck and guys who just were too gay for my heterosexual taste. Who would have thought that one random day, sitting in and having no desire for making plans at all, I would meet the guy who really mattered. A guy, who just needed some love and caring to see his own potential and ours - even though he, at times, also turned out to be a sick bastard. I get the freaks every time I think of what would have happened if we just gave up and settled with being “just friends”. Though, we did that once and fortunately it didn’t last too long. Thank God for wine.
So there I have it. My problem with boys was mostly my own fault. I’ve pushed everyone away the last 2 years and finally I fought for someone.. and myself. I was vulnerable, I was fragile.. and I was scared. I lost all sense of control for the first time in years and let this one great guy take care of me. I did it. I fucking did it. My loser ex-boyfriend can go fuck himself now because from this day on he’s not a factor in my lonesomeness anymore. His adultery has nothing on me anymore. I’m free again, and one step closer to finding peace with myself.
Thank you, C. Thank you for seeing me for what I am and for ending a fucking lousy chapter in my life.
Pot heaven vol. 2
I had enough of smelling the pot from my neighbor in my dorm room. Every single fucking time I come home, there it is. The pot. The pot totally raping my sense of smell. Pot pot pot. Everywhere. When I’m sleeping, when I’m eating… shitting….. there it is, inviting itself to a onesome-fiesta in my room.
Scumbag of a neighbor I have, not tried once to offer me some of their good fucking pot just for the kindness. Just to say “hey I’m sorry that every single shitty item in your room smells like shit, and I’m sorry if you’re going to have some problems with your dad, when he is picking you up on saturday to move your things back to your hometown. I’m greatly sorry. Godspeed mate”.
Cumming soon to a mouth near you……
So yesterday I talked insanely about my dating life. People would think of me as a non-sexual slut if they knew the numbers of guys I’ve been seeing in a short amount of time. I don’t even put myself in that situation where I think “tonight I’m gonna pick up a guy” – I’m just one of “the lucky ones” who just randomly finds herself dating some guy she met some random place in a pretty random time. Suddenly there’s just a guy and I don’t even know where he came from, but certainly not heaven or paradise.
Until I met one person, who tasted a bit like heaven. Or my idea of heaven. To be clear he was just great. I was randomly seeing two great guys, finding myself living through my favorite new order song “bizarre love triangle”. It was pathetic. So deeply pathetic to be caught in that situation, and I hope it never happens again. In a perfect world you just want to blend these two guys into a perfect blueberry smoothie and sip on it all day long, everyday in your life – but unfortunately that wasn’t possible. I would probably get arrested.
Back to the guy from my idea of heaven: I knew him from the start. You know. That’s the most powerful emotion you can experience in this shitty thing called life. It seemed so clear what to do, and yet I couldn’t give myself in. I fooled myself to believe I was in love, when probably I just was ovulating. When that happens every month I feel myself falling in love with everything: mangos, dresses, girls, rocks on the road – I can’t handle it.
So… the guy from heaven and I ended it. It randomly happened like everything else in my life. I thought I knew him, and a part of me still think I do, but the last time I saw him he was a completely stranger to me. Maybe because he limits himself or maybe because I finally got my period and saw things clearer than before. Who knows? Right now I just know than I’m moving back to my hometown to start some new drama on my new studies. How many boyfriends do you think I’m going to have? 2, 3 or 5? Let’s see – I’ll keep you posted.
4xme – what’s not great about that?
I haven’t felt like blogging in a long time – not because I didn’t have a lot of shit to say and a lot of shit to give, but mostly because I had a life. It didn’t last too long.
I’ve been dating… a lot. And still I’m not good at it. It bores me. Maybe because I’m too demanding or maybe I just meet lots of boring boys. I can’t figure it out anymore, but they mostly just repulse me. I don’t think it’s their fault, but more the direction this community is turning. Nobody wants to put any effort in anything but themselves. Seriously. I’m about 2 boys from throwing up over this thing called “individuality”, always thinking of me me me me and yeah… me. And “personal development” is oh so important, and don’t misunderstand me, it is, but come on… You can’t use “personal development” for a squat. Trust me on that. If you think you will be a better person alone, you are delusional. Personal development is only a shitty concept developed by some capitalist assholes who are using this shitty, individual mindset for their own goddamn benefit. If you are so fucking holy and see yourself has a sucker for Buddha, you should just lock yourself in a rotten shed and eat fucking rice until you die.. pretty much. But if you still think you get “closer to yourself” by sticking your meat in everything that walks – be my guest and we will invite some hollowness and chlamydia to dinner: do you eat meat?
But enough of that – you can’t blame people. Today you can customize everything in your life, you can even get a burger without pickles (even though I really don’t understand people who un-choose that). So why even bother to fight for love, when you can customize that as well? Just be aware that you – in the end – just will date a robot, whom you have built. Or something. What the fuck do I know anymore…
So for something completely different. I’m going to study Medicine, and actually I got two spots. One on University of Copenhagen and one on University of Southern Denmark. What are the odds?! I feel so goddamn lucky. Finally I feel like I got the recognition I’ve been working so hard on. In secondary school my great great math teacher (feel the irony here) said that I sucked at math and would probably have a difficult time passing and getting the grade that was necessary in high school to study Medicine. And guess what stupid math teacher? I was fucking great in high school, so fucking great that two – TWO!!! – universities want me. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it, mother fuckeeeeeeeeeer.
freshly squeezed photo from this morning.
I’m getting sick here in Copenhagen and I have absolutely no food at all. It’s snowing. It’s horribly cold. I’m tired and happy, I would be more happy if I had something to eat other than cabbage and eggs. I just fucking love cabbage – that sad veggie is totally underestimated. People should appreciate it more. Like pickles.
Did I mention that it’s snowing? It affects my pessimistic little heart, punching it back to hopeless romantic. I like it – you somewhat feel alive again when you step out of the real, fucking depressing world for a while. Just a little while, and then I will mentally kick my romantic little heart back to hardcore pessimism filled with anger – again. That’s just how you get ahead the most of the time: being a rock solid, hardcore, crazyass bitch.
But I’m happy – too happy and that’s too scary. I can’t control happiness, and certainly not this form of happiness, and I’m not sure if I had the power I would control it. Then it wouldn’t be the same. Sometimes everything is more beautiful when you are completely powerless and inches from falling into a big, dark hole of nothing. And maybe I’m ready to take that chance again. I couldn’t imagine feeling worse than I did before. This time I will feel. Either way. Happy or unhappy – and that’s always better than feeling nothing at all.
It’s still snowing….