HIM does Sydney again!

I've prolly raved on about this ages ago, but I absolutely adore HIM. For those who are not familiar with the band, HIM's an awesome Finnish rock band fronted by the oh so edible Ville Valo.

They did a gig in Sydney in early 2006 right when I had first met Deviant, but the tickets had been sold out before I was cashed up enough to get my hands on them. Man did being a povo art student suck!

Despite the cheesy goth lyrics and a tad too poppy flavour, Razorblade Romance still does it for me. I can't help but love it.

However, their latest album is fucken fantastic. Much darker, less tacky and oh so much better! Ballsy guitars, dark vocals and so very rock. Love it! In fact its one of my favourite albums at the moment.

I can't even begin to describe the joygasm of finding out they're doing a gig in Syd next month! I got tickets for Deviant, Daddy-oh and myself and I can't wait!

HIM - Bleed Well

Christmas Day piss-up

Apparently, Christmas Day is the new Boxing Day as far as piss-ups go. We - Mira Bell and I - heard from a very reliable source (read: from our certified piss-head mate Poof Jesus) that no longer do people wait till Boxing Day to go out, but instead hit the piss one day early. Naturally, we had to test it.

There was also the mystery of my missing jacket to solve. I had managed to lose my winter coat during my bday piss-up and showed up home in a tiny lil black dress, sans coat. Not good. The ulterior motive for hitting the pubs was to somehow track down my beloved red winter coat.

We had a clue: I found a mysterious cloak room ticket in my bag from a bar that I did not remember visiting. However, after bringing this up I was told that we had in fact spent the majority of the night in this particular dodgy joint. Clearly, I had drank even more than I had realised. It was truly a miracle I was still alive.

Back to Christmas Day. We made plans to hit a hideous bar called Las Palmas and started the night with salmiakki vodka shots. Back on the horse, hey? The novelty value of Las Palmas wore of even quicker than I expected and we continued onwards on our mission as soon as Poof Jesus and Candy Mama showed up.

On route to the meat counter also known as Doris, we managed to locate my beloved jacket from Onnela, just as the mysterious cloak room ticked had hinted and we had our first (and last) win of the night.

The theme of the night was 'nothing has changed'. See, the four of us have been hitting the piss for the past 15 years and therefore all equally suffer from a major age crisis. However it was somewhat of a relief to realise that nothing really had changed that much.

Doris was even worse than I remembered.

It was the worst I had seen. Poof Jesus had to hold all of us three chicks under his arms yet still there were hands trying to crab us every which way he was not looking. Every time we hit the dance floor, there were drunken idiots everywhere attempting to hump our legs or grab our arses.

The three of us (me, Poof Jesus and Candy Mama) were vicariously living through Mira Bell, as she was the only single in our merry crew. We were trying pick the best meat for her, ever if she did not agree with our opinions. At least it kept us entertained.

At the end of the night, we were leaning against the bar counter, off our tits and pointing and laughing at the heavily intoxicated fellow piss-heads around us still trying to pick up anything that moved... or actually, I don't think they cared that much anymore. It was more like they were willing to pick up anything they were able to carry home with them.

Then Poof Jesus directed our attention towards the dance floor to announce that Mira Bell had successfully picked up.

Clearly, nothing had changed.

The Big Three-O

So. I turned 30 and can now officially be described as an old cunt. Naturally this required a hefty dose of alcohol to numb the pain of aging, right?

We started with a practice run in Sydney a couple of weeks early. See, I was going to exit the country before my actual birthday and Deviant wasn't going with me, so in order to get him in on the fun, I needed to have a pre-party.

The usual group of piss-heads gathered in to meet us at our lil love nest, and with the help of copious amounts of alcohol, we went on till the sun came up and I believe I threw the towel in around 7am by crashing on the bedroom floor next to our bed that was taken by a visiting couple.

The following day was not so fun.

--

The actual birthday party took place in Tampere, Finland and after the trial run was such a drunken success, the Finnish piss-head mates of mine had a lot of expectations to live up to.

The task was not easy, however these were not just any old drunkards: Hospodar, Kennu and Mira Bell trained in from Helsinki while Jyppi and Junnu drove in from Jyvaskyla and we all met up at Cafe Europa, the same dodgy bar where we used to start up so many yrs ago as teens.

Mira Bell disappeared into the bathroom for a while and came back cranky as all hell whinging something about breaking a clothes stand and a lash curler. Apparently she had been attempting to open the bottle of Sol she brought with her and failed miserably. Not only did she have the beer in her bag, but also a slice of lime packed neatly in glad wrap to go with it.

Bring on the champers, Battery Vodkas and Long Island Ice Teas - the night had begun!

I had been afraid of these dear friends of mine getting older just as I had, but my fears were soon proven wrong:

Kennu was drooling after meat way too young, Hospodar was pouring alcohol down my throat at a very unhealthy pace, Jyppi & Junnu had a backpack full of beer with them and Mira Bell picked up a 22 yo at the end of the night.

Clearly, nothing had changed.

We put immense effort in both quality and quantity that night: we drank everything and in enormous quantities. There was karaoke, titty bars and dodgy joints - a true trip down the memory lane back to those glorious teen nights so many years ago.

The following day was even worse than the one after the Sydney pre-party and the majority of it was spent trembling in bed in fetal position or practicing my Norwegian at the slightest scent of food or alcohol.

The need to improve no longer exists, as I cannot survive a night bigger than this.

little parcel of happiness

nothing is better than receiving a post package from home.

mum sent me shitloads of finnish candy along with mätitahna (fish egg/kaviar paste), hotchocolate-powder (dairy free) and two bags.

i don't know how long you've been reading my rants, but there is a history behind the kitty bag that makes it oh so much sweeter to recieve this one from mum

see, i used to have a kitty bag. since i couldn't find one that i liked (they were all too plasticky, busy and pink) i designed and made one myself. it was wonderful and i loved it with all my heart. then i got robbed (well burgled) in newtown and some worthless piece of shit ran off with my priceless kitty bag and all of its contents.

about a year ago my mum visited austria on business and emailed me afterwards that she had found the best bday gift for me but that instead of sending it wanted to give it to me the next time i visited home. since i was unable to visit home this year and was pestering her for sending me finnish candy, she now remembered the gift and included it in the parcel.

mums rok big time.

kitty bag resurrected:

too much thesis not enough fun

you know you've been working too hard when you continue working after you fall asleep.

not good.

for the first half of the night i was forming sentences for my thesis and the latter half i had a very unpleasant dream. not quite a nightmare but not far from one either.

you know when in your dream you go through a scenario you fear in real life? it gets even worse when its a 'reality dream' - a dream so realistic that it doesn't feel like a dream at all. so yeh, i woke up all fucked up and confused and not in my bestest of moods at the moment.

i think i need a cup of coffee and a mind clarifying run. hopefully that'll do the trick.

also, i think i'm having lunch today with the finnish chickie who knocked my drink over at my local a couple of months ago. that should be fun.

yay for finnish design

i was able to acquire a half a dozen of tsaikka glasses in their original box from a local auction house for $5. score.

timo sarpaneva designed the tsaikka glass for iittala in 1957 and it has always been one of my iittala favourites. in fact, some of my earliest christmas/winter memories include eggnog/glög served from these glasses at my grandparents' house.

mebbe during the next xmas holidays i can hook up some glög from ikea and serve it hot from my own tsaikka glasses. its really quite funny how these lil patriotic things pop up once you're far enough for long enough. honestly didn't think i had it in me before i left the country...

the world is feeling smaller by the day

its funny what a difference the technology can make.

my mum has finally got her webcam purchased and installed at home. only took abt half a year of whinging to get her to do that. well, since that i've been able to transfer myself in the middle of our livingroom weekly while catching up with my family almost face to face. makes such a big difference compared to just hearing the voice.

(oh btw, any of you irl bunnies around the world are using skype, you can find me under the skypename 'firstname.lastname')

also, technology would make my jogs more interesting if i'd finally get the battery changed to my heart rate monitor watch. now i just have to go for my runs without recording the data.

oh well, its a beautiful enough day here is sydney again and for two days in a row the weather has provided enough motivation for running.

[insert here a chicky as sweaty and pink as a piggy on a barbie]

tomorrow deviant is driving me down to kiama and back to shoot my next video. such a perfect man he is. which reminds me, better go and scrub myself up so that i'll have enough time to doll up before he gets here.