Flere grunner til at jeg elsker Norge!

Ikke bare elsker jeg deres valuta, men jeg elsker også sine sangere! Jeg tror min favoritt må være... Sandra Lyng Haugen! Selv om jeg er bare en dumt amerikansk, jeg elsker musikken hennes. Stemmen hennes er så pen (og så er hun) og hun gjør både triste og glade sanger!

Såååå søøøt~

Som du har trolig lagt merke til, jeg snakker i norsk i denne bloggen. Norsk er ikke mitt første språk, og jeg er bare bruker en oversetting maskin, så ikke bli sint på grammatikk min! Snakker i norsk virkelig hjelper mig lære enda mer.

Hade!

Why I love Norwegians, and WOAH. Is that Justin Bieber?

First off, Norwegians.

Not only do they have a pretty language, and a beautiful country, but they also have adorable currency. Their coins HAVE HOLES IN THEM. If there's anyone reading this who lives under a rock and thinks Norway is a city in Sweden, 1) You're stupid, and 2) Norway is actually a country. The currency is called a Krone, and their equivalent to the penny (which is actually worth about a USD nickle) is called the øre. A NOK is about 5.6 times as much as 1 USD.

They got little shippies on them~

SO CUTE. Why can't our money be purple and red...

Now to the second thing. The Bieber.

Don't get me wrong, the guy's singing kind of sucks; I CERTAINLY don't follow his every move and whatnot. But I happened to notice while flipping around on the telly that the Beaver seems to be looking older. Like, actually his age. And something interesting to go with that is the fact that his voice has deepened quite a few keys since last summer. I still remember his first music video, and keeping that in mind and fast forwarding to the new Justin Bieber with his shorter hair and deeper voice, only one conclusion can be made.

Justin Bieber is finally going through puberty.

Old Beiber:

New Bieber:

I am still far from even being able to spell his name right on the first try, but with Justin looking his age, I can sort of see the appeal. He's even gotten taller.

He still sounds like a pre-teen girl though.

Next Week Resolutions?

Yes, my minions. These aren't resolutions for the year, or for half a year, or for the next month, but for the next week. It came to me as I was sleeping on the second floor ledge that I really needed to put some order in my life. Give myself some goals. So I began writing down all of the things I wanted to accomplish during next week. Here they are:

+ Don't eat chocolate for the entire week
I highly doubt I'd be able to accomplish this, for chocolate is like the Diet Pepsi that is my life-water. Chocolate is my soul food.

+ Write a blog post every day
Now THIS is more like it. I can totally trash this goal, man. Do it like I did your mom.

+ Lose 5 pounds
Less likely to accomplish. But it's for the sake of my health I guess, so I'll try.

+ Read a long book
I was thinking about the Book Thief, because to me it's an easy read and I could really use one. I haven't read for fun in so long.

+ Write at least one poem a day
I'm going to be reading at the Poetry Slam, and I need some fresh stuff. I'll probably post them here. If my two followers don't mind. Ahahaha.....

+ Learn a lot of Norwegian
Jeg snakker litt norsk (I speak a little Norwegian). I really need to catch up on it, because I want to be at least semi-fluent before I eventually move there.

+ Keep the perverted thoughts to a minimum
I'm too pervy. Saying goodbye to the pr0nz for a week....

That's pretty much it. I'll post again when I get back from school.
Bye, minions.

A post about nothing.

I have just realized the depressing situation that I am in.

I only have two followers on this blog. And this is my only blog.

Anyways, I have finally made an appointment to get my cat spayed. Do I feel bad? No, for this is the cat that goes around terrorizing my other cats, moaning with her arse in the air 24/7, and will try to attack/rape me if I make too many sudden movements while she's horny. She's even snapped my bra-straps with her teeth.

If you've ever had to hide under your bed covers from a psychotic cat in heat, you know what I mean.

On a closing note, Ray William Johnson's song Zombie Love has been playing in my head non-stop for the past few days. It's really really sweet, and I highly recomend that you listen to it. So that's about it. Later folks.

I squished.

Yippity do da, it's Valentines day! That time when you write your lover cheesy poetry, dress all in red, and sing Disney songs.

Yes, my school does all of this.

And, being the cliche ze that I am, I told the person I like that I like them today. And yes, it was awkward as heck. I even pulled the "wait-till-they're-about-to-leave-then-tell-them" card, but I still felt awkward as crap, and now I don't even know if they took me seriously.

This is why I hate it when I can't read someone. Normally I'm fantastic at being able to tell what someone's feeling, but with hir, ze doesn't even give me any nervous twitches or blushes to go off of. Normally ze just looks happy all the time; only one time did I suspect that ze was a bit depressed, but ze could have just been tired.

I think I just want to lock myself, hir, and a psychologist or whatever and have the doctor person make hir show hir ACTUAL EMOTIONS. Cause masks make me twitch.

Well, I've had enough ranting for today. Night ya'll. I'm getting some sleep.
Maybe tomorrow I'll make sure ze knows I was actually serious...

Thumpity thump thump.

Valentines day is tomorrow; I know that because my heart won't stop going thumpity thump thump. See, I have this condition where around this time of year my organs start metamorphosing into about twenty thousand butterflies. Each time it's a different species of butterfly, and this year it was the Plaided Canadian. This species will remain dormant for most of the day, until they are in close proximity to a plaid-wearing Canadian, when they will flap their little wings as fast as they possibly can.

It makes me look like this:

Yeah, not really a picture of beauty there.

And I just happen to know a plaid-wearing Canadian this year too! Who just loves to stand in close proximity to me. And pretend to flirt with me. But thankfully, ze doesn't like to hug people much.

But I'm starting to like hir hugs.

And I wanted to tell this person that I like them before Valentines day, but due to nerves and an unfortunate display of events, I'm going to have to go with the cliche route of telling hir how I feel on that day.

So I will be going into school tomorrow, armed with a bag of Halls and my best friends poking at me saying "you can do it!" and then when I get up to hir my support will leave and I'll be a crumpled mess of nerves on the ground.

Sometimes I just want trade my heart with someone else's. Just once.
I really hate Valentines Day.