Second hand man

Slowly but surely I'm restocking on ancient artifacts to color my low-budgeted life. The other day I had my first dead mans garage experience finding all kinds of amazing stuff from the days of disco and polyester. Peering through the life of this deceased uncle I found some 70's picnic cups, a Kodak Instamatic 104 and a carry on American Tourister kit. Some pieces of Americana I had never seen before. Like Scandinavians have their strange Russian/German/French stuff lying around, the Americans are mostly self-provided when it comes to vintage knick knacks. I hope to reap more from this chamber of secrets.

I just came home from the ghetto surroundings of 7th and Lucas Ave. My fresh friend Alan took me there after we helped Jonathan carry his stuff into his new place. I'm weeping silent tears over not getting to live with him, you can't have it all. I am now thinking of ways to spiff up my living quarters for cheap, my last expensive investment was a mountain bike me and Alan just haggled down to 150 bucks. It runs great but needs some tweaking, I'm hoping Tommy will turn it into one of his many art projects so it doesn't look like a Sears Catalog item anymore.

If people are still wondering what this trip was about, I'll try to enlighten you. I am here to look for a way to legally stay. I fell in love with this town, the first time around and I would love to live here under a prolonged visa situation. The student life was good for me, but I would love to be able to work in some way, while being here - maybe even through Norway - in order to support whatever projects I get into in the future. I feel like my mind is being put to work again after repetitive months at the Book Club back home. I miss a lot of things about Norway, but the living in between the peaks feels easier on the soul over here.

Lucy the pit bull is snoring next to me and Jonathan took most of the lights with him as he left, leaving the place a dungeon. I have already started to put the wheels of cleanliness in motion here and will get this place back in ship shape ASAP. If I have to play the house wife/commanding officer for a while, then so be it. I hope your ever-sparkling thoughts are with me.

Peace out mofos, cause space echos in smelted legos and eat hardy!

My Chemical Romance sucks ass in hell AKA Your garden variety rage fit

My chemical romance... The name says it all. You would need to administer Prozac rectally after hearing this filth.

STORY TIME!
Last Saturday I woke up to the harshness of reality after an unintended Friday night chug contest at La Cita - one of Downtown's cheaper waterholes. "Oh, the harshness of reality - how can I go on", I pondered. Failing to get up, I reached for the remote - you know, the thing that turns the TV on. "Mind-numbing escape is what I need"! From the depths of my pillow, unbeknownst to the horror that was currently airing on everyones favorite channel : Music Television I witnessed the apocalypse as brought forth by 5 white kids from New Jersey.

The band that spewed out these hellish whines (this is getting pompous, sorry) bore the name My Chemical Romance. Or as I have so cleverly named them "My Hemorrhoid Retards". (Yes, I am in fact 25 years old. Sad really.)

I shuddered, yet somehow I could not turn away - the The spokesperson for this fantastic quintette had put me under a spell. He was the handsome and brilliant Assface McShit.

This guy :

(LOOK! He's thinking.)

He looked like he had been injected with concentrated Jim Carrey leftovers. His facial poses shifting at a rate of which rabbits mate (No rhyme intended). I believe the dramatic term is "presence". Though the urge to move into the forest rose within me, I felt it was my responsibility to witness this degeneration of mankind, so that I could one day tell my grandkids. And so I did...
END OF STORY TIME!

What was that!? I'm an asshole.. sry sry (sorry sorry). I'll bet those guys are really awesome in RL (real life). And when they're not fitting each other for cups and trying out new hair colors, they probably enjoy a nice stroll down the boulevard of broken dreams and wake each other up when September comes as American idiots. (See what I did there?! I used the song titles of another shitty pop-punk band to diss them. WOW. Pulitzer candidate anyone? I suck.) Luckily they have enough money to get me killed. At least there's some justice in this world.

Katharsis complete