what a silly lil girl i have been!

now i get it! all this time i've been stupid and blind and trying to make an impossible equation balance out. yesterday, i had my epiphany.

i was watching this documentary. something like "women talking abt sex". most of it was just the usual crap: american women being ecstatic, cause they can be oh so liberated and say things like 'clitoris' or 'oral sex' on television. didn't pay much attention.

but the epiphany part?

there was this old hag who had had like 40 or so lovers. she explained, that she had found that irl it's the best solution to have three men, not just one. three you can still juggle and every one of them has an important part to fill:

1. the shit hot guy in a pinstripe suit who you can go out in the public with and look good next to in a gallery opening
   
2. the sex god who get's you off and fucks your brains out at least three times a day
3. the smart one to have interesting conversations with and who inspires your mind and soul
   

and all this time i've been trying to find all three in one. no wonder i haven't found him...

the only downside is that before i was one guy short... now i'm three guys short. crap.

so much to do...

yay for new hair!

i finally had a chance to drag my arse to see a hairdresser. abt a fucken time if you ask me (or anyone who saw me irl for that matter).

the colour is a beautiful dark chocolate brown with black streaks under the fringe. the long tip of the asymmetrical bob is also black (the colour idea was inspired by tira's beautiful locks...)

a family friend of ours who used to be our neighbour (ages ago when i was still a lil annoying anklebiter myself) recently moved to tampere. she used to be the best hairdresser in town back then and i was pleasantly suprised to see that if anything, her talent had only improved over time.

even tho she is abt to turn 50, she looked abt 35 (30 in oz yrs) and had the hard core trend and technique knowledge equivalent of the best young hairdressers i know. i was impressed.

(edited after posting, so sue me.)

so depressingly perty

i could watch this video over and over again just for that bum. pure perfection. as far as bums go, i'm definitely a kylie-gwen kinda girl. no one else comes even close.

gwen stefani - hollaback girl [via]

you know you're in australia when...

• the mexicans next door ask you over for a bbq.
• you don't actually use the words 'sheila' or 'shrimp'.
• you actively dislike americans, but watch their telly, eat their food and worship their idols.
• democracy means the freedom to draw caricatures of john howard.
• a posh meal = an all-you-can-eat buffet.
• your most offensive curse also doubles as an exclamation of awe or amazement, like, "fark orf!"
• you don't drink fosters, but you let the world think you do.
• the only thing better than beating the poms at ANY sport is giving them shit for it.
• you can compress several words into one - ie 'g'day', 'd'reckn?' this allows for more space for profanities.
• you have a customised stubby holder.
• your soap stars become pop singers and move to the UK.
• you use the words - grouse, tops, ripper, choice, sick, rad, exo, ace, wicked, ballistic - to mean good. and then you place 'bloody' in front of it when you really mean it.
• your cooking apron has plastic breasts on it.
• the "aussie aussie aussie! oi oi oi!" chant has been a religious experience in the past.
• the blokes at the local gym think your weight training is an opportunity to ask you out on a date.
• the bbq is a male-dominated arena. and the women do the salads.
• 'fair go for all' excludes indigenous people.
• an eight-hour trip to go camping for the weekend isn't out of the question or excessive.
• you take pride in living in a tolerant multicultural society but firmly believe that all poms and kiwis are fair game.
• slick pick-up lines like 'wanna shag?' and 'carn, show us yer tits' can constitute male-to-female conversation.
• you say 'no worries' quite often, whether you realise it or not.

[orig. edited rather heavily on the way]

a [boring] saint

two days in a row, i've done a 10km run instead of the usual 5km. if i can do ten, i feel like a slacker if i only do five... mind you, i do feel fucken fantastic.

man, i gotta stop this shit soon, or i'm going to turn into an all good, nice and boring lil angel girl. angels like that have nothing juicy to write about, not even mentioning creating from. to be even mildly interesting as an artist, you just can't be all healthy and stabile. fuck that.

"a successful artist has to be either [a] an alcoholic, [b] crazy or [c] gay."

good ole finnish adages just know it all. i think i'll aim for all three, just to be safe...

dun worry bunnies, i should be back in black if i get to helsinki on saturday. there's a very promising piss-up and i'm more than tempted to drag my arse there.

time flies...

...i just realised that lbts is having it's first birthday in less than a month. kinda scary.

i wonder why i started this ranting in the first place? well, i guess i have three weeks to come up with an explanation.

it's all health, health, health, darling...

first a 5km jog in the beautiful sunny forest, then 300 abs on the lawn, continued by some intensive deep stretching and then finish it off with sauna. in other words: a perfect sunday.

oh, don't worry bunnies, i'm not going to make a habit out of this shit. i'll be back on my bad behaving drunken track in no time. i just thought that i could use a lil bit of healing time too. i'm beginning to fear that my liver is abt to divorce me if i don't remember to be nice to it every now and then.

ooh, i do believe that the divine smell coming from the kitchen spells pancakes and ice cream!

you know what bunnies? sometimes life is just very, very good.

this shit is so unfair!

ok, first of all, i'm a fucken saint. we went out with miss m. last night. and i did not drink at all. not a drop. me. therefore i must be a saint. or at least an angel.

miss m. can't drink atm, so i thought i'd be a good mate and struggle along not drinking. which i was (suprisingly enough) able to pull off. yay for me. we walked to the city, met up with a couple of mates of hers and then just showed them around tampere.

i think we walked for something like 6-7km (with high heels!), drank only cranberry juice, water and tea in the bars and then we walked back to my place.

and get this: in the morning, i wake up with this hangover-like physical state. how the fuck does that work?

on top of this, my fucken body decides that today is the perfect day for celebrating it's capability to create a little evil army. so now i'm all cranky and in pain. ouchies. poor lil me.

i think there must be some mint chocolate ice cream in the freezer. that'll help.

*sigh*

i tried bunnies, i really, really did.

i thought that if i'd train back to tampere, i'd take it easy and just relax for the rest of my holiday. heh. then my phone rings.

(this is the part where my plan fucks up)

it's miss m. telling me that she's on her way to tampere too and she's kindly informing me that we are going out tonight. that lil voice in my head goes "nononoNO! no way! not tonight! i'm way too tired to party. i'm just going to go to sauna and then call it an early night."

instead i hear myself saying "great! just tell me where and when!".

crap.

quiet drinkies night out

such a good lil girl i am.

i went out last night with miss s and her friend miss m2, tira and schizo-janne. the plan was to have a quiet one. start out with a glass of good quality aussie white at home, a cider or two out on vanha balcony and then continue to dtm to shake our booties.

and believe it or not bunnies, that's *exactly* what we did. i know, i can't believe it myself.

thanks for the good company guys. and thank you, perty miss s. for providing me with a place to stay and such an excellent party company too. do keep me informed with the future twists and turns...

--

today i had a v. nice early lunch tira and mama p's family. you all know that i don't like kids, right? well, despite the fact, that this 6 weeks young thing was a living and breathing mustard machine, he was really quite the little angel.

my theory is that the sneaky lil thing is just trying to kick start tira's biological clock by acting out all nice and shit. but i don't think that the other's were that convinced.

it was very good to see what a great daddy-o mama p had found for herself and they clearly seemed great together. and man, did that kid have a cool mohawk.

your inner european is spanish!

energetic and lively.
you bring the party with you!

who's your inner european?

grah. not much better

well, it wasn't bad enough to require yet another pair of shoes, but not quite right either. back again tomorrow and let's see if they get it right on the 5-6th time.

this london bs is fucked up. i can only imagine what kind of hell this shit raises. i better not wear my bling-bling lingerie to the plane now, or it's rubberglove action for sure at the security check. i just hope that this doesn't mean that i'm spending 12hrs at heathrow on my way back to sydney. cause heathrow must be one of the worst shitholes on earth.

to cheer myself up a bit, we're going out tonight. i'm dragging miss s. and her friend with me and i think tira and eg should be joining up as well. let's see who else shows up.

bunnies, things can only get better...

bloody fucken hell!

grah. today was a fucken disaster.

first, i drag my arse to the dentist and the fucken quack fucks it up completely. despite me telling him beforehand that this would happen - cause it did last time - he goes ahead and does the same fucken mistake, twise. fucken hell. i had to sit through the pain twise today, and tomorrow i have to drag my arse there at 7:30am! and naturally the pain will be ten times worse cause my teeth are already sore as hell from today.

needless to say i was fucken homicidal when i walked out. it took a pair of highest stiletto heels i've seen, followed by a slice of cheese cake (yay for low lactose goods!) before i calmed down a bit. even then, any granny or teen bumbing into me would have experienced the sudden pleasure of having my brand new stilettos shoved up where the sun doesn't shine - sideways.

then, i try to make myself feel a bit better by doing some lingerie shopping. tell me bunnies, have finnish chicks stopped wearing beautiful lingerie, or what the fuck is the problem??? i went to EVERY lingerie shop/department i could find, and there was absolutely nothing worth buying. and i was so pissed off i would have been willing to buy anything even remotedly nice. but no. not a fucken thing.

i have a bad feeling that tomorrow, i will come home with another pair of shoes and a hell of a toothache.

today, i was a very, very bad lil girl

i "accidentally" found out that my stockmann credit card works (read: i walked up to the chicky behind the counter and ask her to test it). and went on a lil bit of a shopping spree...

i found a lot of lil things, like make-up and g-strings that had enough bling bling on them to beep like hell in a metal detector (yay for that rubberglove funfun!). i think i have to do the stockmann lingerie sale again tomorrow. i feel like something new, pretty and very, very lacy. maybe i'll have a chance to wear them again if/when my celibacy once again finishes. heh.

it could have been worse tho: i didn't buy a single pair of shoes! so it should balance out as me being a nearly good girl?

besides, it's ok to pamper myself a bit since i have to go to the bloody dentist tomorrow morning. *panic*

i will never, ever drink again. really. honestly.

well, at least not until the next time. i'm still only a shadow of myself and even as that, a shaky and trembling one at best. at least the damn headache is gone. looks like the good ole caffeine od helped with that.

mind you, we did - once again - prove, that even if we are getting older by the number, it doesn't mean that we couldn't do the ever so embarrassing drunken teen shit. always as entertaining and always as funny... as long as enough time passes that is (and no one brought a fucken video camera along... damn you hospodar. damn you to hell!).

mental note to self:

1. when taking a dunny break, always take the glass with you to the bathroom
2. if however you fail to do so, do check that the amount of the liquid doesn't increase while left alone
   
3. one drink of whiskey is 4cl, NOT "filled to the brim"
4. drinking with the boozing society equals a MAJOR hangover
   

i think i'm going to stay as far away from vodka as i can for the rest of the week and just enjoy cranberry juice on ice. it's all health, health, health, from now on bunnies. (yeh i know, i know. but let a girl dream, will ya?)

that reminds me. i was recently told that my work had fucked up my mate's date. heh. apparently my dear inner beauty ladies combined with his extremely fucked up sense of humour, had offended his date and ruined THE moment. heh. hun, next time try not to be so damn funny...

piss weak

ok bunnies, now it's official: australia has made me piss weak.

all it took was a magically refilling (sneaky!) glass of vodka (although i do believe there was also some mixer involved in the beginning of the night...). followed by a whiskey. but not the 3cl (oz drink) or the usual 4cl finnish drink. nono. "the glass has brims for a reason!" fuck me.

the only thing i was able to do yesterday, was read a book. even that required a lot of effort. but miss s. provided me with another great book: "the male sexuality". i read the female version some time ago and it was very informative.

maybe even an old dog can learn a few new tricks...

ouchies. loud voice! very pain!

i do believe that the light motorcycle left the hands pretty badly.

fantastic night out

beer, bbq and bad taste. i guess the night had a bit of an oz flavour in it.

there were 7 guys, me and my parents. two of the guys have been my best mates since we were lil kids and they dragged their mates along with them. awesome.

heh. we were shitting the neighbours by being extremely loud and obnoxious while pissing up at our backyard before heading to the city around midnight.

the night involved black burned stuff that was supposed to be hamburgers, copious amounts of alcohol and bad stories, shakin our arses in a v. dodgy joint in the city, drunk fatty food at 5am and laughing.

man, i laughed so hard last night that my stomach muscles (or well, the fatty formations that should be my tummy muscles) are hurting like hell. heh. i think i elongated my life with several years. unless you count the damage my intestines took from the combination of the carcinogenic food and alcohol. i think it's abt even in the end.

now if i could just gather up enough strength to rock up at the train station and head towards helsinki, so that i can start mentally preparing myself for an even bigger night out.

bunnies, this shit is going to be the end of me.

tampere rok

there's nothing like paying $10 for a cider in the restaurant car, to make you cry yourself to sleep later on in the sleeping car. never fails.

i have to admit, that it's a bit difficult to get used to having finns around after spending such a long time on the other side of the planet. there's no denying it: finns are quite unique.

there i am, sitting in the restaurant car, by myself and obviously up for a chat with anyone who's even remotedly sane or sober enough to spell their name. but no. every person travelling alone, takes up a whole table by themselves, not even glancing at other people. so for the whole time, the restaurant car is filled with tables of just one person, but no one trying to make a conversation to the table next to them. i have a hard time trying to picture this happening in an oz train.

and in helsinki, if you see someone walking in the city looking happy, theyre:

[a] drunk
[b] crazy
[c] a foreigner
[d] all of the above

if you have ever spent a longer time in helsinki, you should know exactly what i mean.

besides, after spending so much time down under, you kinda get brainwashed into this having manners bs. like, saying please, being polite, smiling... that kinda shit. now ppl in here take me for a full on patronising arsehole(*). heh.

(* in finland, the 'normal' way of ordering a coffee in a cafe is not:
- "hi, could i get a cup of coffee, please?" (with a smile),
but instead we use a more time- and energy efficient form:
- "coffee!" (not bothering with a smile, the bitch is getting paid anyway)
...and the same rule can be applied to pretty much anything.)