Life sign.

Oh man, how life sometimes gets in the way. And by life I mean work and friends and boozing with my girls (and sometimes at work) and also ridiculous amounts of time I spend at a hockey rink screaming my head off.

So I wanted to pop in and say hi and also show you some fantastic stuff I found on the internet and enjoyed. Because that's how I do. Hooray.

1. The only song you ever need to hear about feminism. Also, it's super funny!

2. In case you like motivational posters: THIS IS CLEARLY FOR YOU!!!

3. In honour of that one surly-looking dude leaving One Direction this week - here's a dramatic reading of One Direction Tweets. "You can tell a man bis his ankles" is probably my new life motto...


I don't wear make up. I wear war paint.

Whenever the topic of conversation is "make up", I like to play a round of bullshit bingo in my head. The always winning sentiment is usually - but not exclusively - uttered by a dude and it is this: "Girls look so much better without any make up!" The "BLEEEERGHHHH!!!"-sound that goes off in my brain is sometimes so enormous, it stretches out to my vocal chords and I actually say it out loud. Because the sentence above is the. most. stupid. thing. to. say. ever.

Dear People with this particular opinion: please, just, shut up, okay?! I know you think that you are saying something nice and wonderful and lovely, but it's a goddamn fucking lie. No, we don't look better without any make up on. That's the whole point of cosmetics! What you mean to say, is that you'd prefer make up that is tasteful and not immediately recognizable as such, over a crazy get up that makes us look like morons. You mean to say, that you prefer Gwyneth Paltrow over Amy Winehouse. You mean to say, that you'd prefer Natalie Portman over Snooki.

But let me tell you something: Natalie Portman (who I love dearly, don't get me wrong here!) probably wears a shitload of make up. Only you don't see it. You just see her flawless skin, her lovely pink lips and her endless eye lashes and go "Oh, that's a lovely, natural looking girl. She looks gorgeous. She doesn't need anything on her face!"

The thing is: Nobody on the planet looks like Natalie Portman when they get up in the morning. Not even Natalie Portman looks like Natalie Portman when she gets up in the morning. Because nobody is flawless and perfect without even trying (at least that's what I hope is the case...). We have zits and wrinkles and weird bright red spots that sometimes happen for no apparent reason at all. We think that we have eyes that are too small or lips that are too thin and because nobody sees these things more than we do when we look in a mirror, we use make up to make ourselves feel more beautiful. Or stronger. Or fiercer.

A lot of guys don't like make up that is clearly visible, they don't like red lips, they don't like cat eyes. "Girls look so much better without any make up!" is their way of saying that. To these guys I'd like to say: Shut up. Sit down. Nobody cares about your opinion on the matter. We don't do this to look nice for you. We do this to make ourselves feel awesome.

I recently overheard a few colleagues (one of whom has uttered the "Girls look better without make up" sentence in front of me, by the way) talk about a girl with quite heavy acne that had just passed us by. "Frankenstein" was amongst the nicer things they said about her. After I had put my exploding head back together and hissed at them for a little while, I realized that this is probably close to the center of the problem I have with the bullshit sentence about no make up: Men who say these things expect a flawless person. One that doesn't need make up. And if she does, she is supposed to sneakily pretend that she doesn't. To cover up her flaws in solitude. It's the same thing with Photoshop and plastic surgery: Demi Moore gets complimented on the fact that she still looks like 30, even though she's over 50. But Renée Zellweger gets slammed because it's visible that she had "work done".

You're supposed to be flawless but without any effort. And "Girls look so much better without any make up!" is rarely meant as a way of saying "Relax Girl, you look fine either way, don't stress out!" but instead a way of saying "You need to look like a goddess, but please, don't let me see the work you actually put into that!"

(the very lovely and very fitting picture above is taken from here)


Life should be more like hockey. When someone pisses you off, you just beat the shit out of them and then sit in a penalty box for 5 minutes.

As you know I work for a local radio station, which is fun most of the times (as some might remember, I wasn't a big fan of the "getting up at 5 am" thing...). Last month, my boss remembered that I am into hockey and asked me whether I wanted to be the new person in charge for the entire coverage of our local ice hockey team.

I said yes. And then I frantically started learning names of the players, and the numbers on their jerseys and also hockey rules and I ordered a book on Wayne Gretzky on Amazon (alright, so the last one wasn't strictly necessary, but still...).

So now I get to stand in a freezing ice stadium every weekend and watch grown men beat a tiny puck (and sometimes each other) around with sticks. Which is surprisingly awesome. Last time I actually got so excited, I yelled at the referee and sloshed around my beer for a bit. (I was properly ashamed afterwards...)

(Working so late that nobody but you and your camera lady are in the office, has its perks. Most are alcohol related..)

And the first time I had to interview one of the players after the game I almost shat my pants and then drank two beers in rapid succession whilst giggling hysterically. By now - I'm glad to report - I'm much more cool about the whole thing. I also get to write a blog about the hockey guys for work, so that's why I have been blogging so little here the past few weeks. Sorry about that...

But it's a bit weird honestly: I had this thing for skijumping for a while, now I'm really into hockey. Winter sports seem to be my thing, even though I hate sports and I hate winter! What the hell is wrong with me?


My February on Instagram

February. What a miserable pisshole of a month. It's a good thing it's the year's shortest month, and it's a good thing alcohol is always an option.

But - oh shock and suprise - I just flicked through my own Instagram feed and it looks like this last month wasn' actually all bad. I've had some fun times, too. Let's take a peak.

Just like February is my least favourite month, Tuesday is my least favourite day. So a Tuesday in February is the perfect time to have a glass of crazy overpriced champagne with your friend.

I also bought the most glittery, sparkly golden shoes in the entire world. And I love them.

As past of my job, I went to a bowling alley with our local hockey team. Who are all much, much better at bowling than I am...

I ate the best burger you can find in this town. The sweet potato fries that come along with it are stupid, but the burger, oh the burger....

And I had the girls over for a fun evening of boozing, overeating and gossiping.

The sun came back and we decided to have our daily morning meeting at work on the rooftop terrace. (It was still crazy cold and everyone froze to pieces, but still...)

I bought myself an outfit that shows off my newly acquired abs. Here's to something I sure as hell never thought would happen...

My friends came to town for a Saturday afternoon and we all hung out and had fun.

I went to the shooting of a commercial with the hockey guys, which kinda makes up for all the times I had to get up at 5 in the fucking morning to go to work...

I also had the best curry of my life, when I went to that new curry place in town, together with my mum...

And I ended the month with a raging hangover, loads of shame and a wonderful breakfast with an old friend. (By the way: These are sunglasses I plan on wearing this summer. Awesomepants doesn't even cut it here!)


The last days of Peter Bergmann

If you have 20 minutes to spare on this grey Sunday afternoon, you should watch this short but haunting documentary about Peter Bergmann - a man that never existed.

In 2009 a man who called himself Peter Bergmann traveled to a remote Irish town in order to disappear completely. Which he kind of managed. This documentary is the portrait of a ghost.

You can watch the entire documentary here.


Elegie For A Dog.

Almost 12 years ago, my mother took my little sister and me to the dog pound and showed us eight wee, black, fluffy balls of fur. We picked one of the fluffballs, a tiny black thing with a white cross on her chest, a bare pink belly and light brown paws and took her home. We called her Molly.

Molly wasn't the smartest dog in the world. Nor was she the bravest. But she was sweet and kind, she never barked and she never growled. Even people who are scared of dogs loved her. Because all she did was shove her nose into your crotch for greetings and then lie down under the table. Or basically anywhere where there was food. She loved food. One year, when my mum was having a birthday party, she snuck into the coat room and ate an entire platter of spicy chicken wings. Once she raided our Easter chocolate baskets.

She also loved the snow and lakes and rivers to swim in. She loved rolling around in other animals' poo. She once hunted down a small deer, only to lick its shaking head and then leave to sniff at something else. When she wanted us all to get up in the mornings (usually at the reasonable hour of around 5.30...) she would stick her wet, cold nose into our faces and huff and puff until we got up. During cold winter nights, she would sneak under our blankets, place her head on the pillow and spoon us. She also managed to take up an entire king size bed for herself somehow.

And when we sat in front of the tv in the evenings, she would plop down next to the couch and stick up a paw for us to hold, until she fell asleep. If you let it go before she was fully asleep, she would puff indignantly and stick it up again, until you took it.

This Saturday I came home to the usual crazy welcome by that lovely dog. For 10 straight minutes she wagged her tail, made her weird squeaky noises and made me rub her belly.

It was the last time she did that. A few hours later, she was in so much pain from the tumors that have plagued her the past few months, that we had to take her to the vet to be put down. She was sweet and kind until the very end.

Sleep well, Molly Malone. I hope you're somewhere where you can eat fox shit, roll around in dirt and hunt rabbits forevermore!


Middlefinger Thursday

Looong silence on the blog the past few weeks. I do apologize for that. January and February are usually the most sucky months of the year and this year I have the added bonus of a shitload of work to do at my job. So I haven't been in a very bloggy mood the last time.

But - here are some fun things from the internet to brighten up your Thursday (which used to be one of my favourite days of the week, but now I'm just like: Why isn't it Friday afternoon yet?!)

1. This young Ukranian ballet dancer dances his heart out to Hoziers "Take me to church". David LaChapelle directed the whole thing, which only goes to show: The man got skills! (other than taking weird, oversexualized pictures of famous pop icons...)

2. Here is a small girl who's best buddy is a tiny pig. Prepare to say "Aaaawwwww", everybody!

3. My imaginary boyfriend Andy Samberg sings about a very lovely day he is having. Story of my life. (Minus the drugs!)

4. If you are looking for a fun destination for a trip, go and check these out. I want to pack my fucking bags like RIGHT NOW!

5. Tiny hamsters go on a tiny date! No more words necessary!


5 things to brighten up bleak January


God I hate January. It's too dark, too cold, too bleak and all I want to do is to crawl up under a blanket and not see or hear the horrible stuff that is going on in the world and around me. Since I can't, I try to give myself a few tiny breaks during the day and look at happier things. Here are five of them.

1. A fairly short horror opera about Shia LaBoeuf. There is actually no proper way to describe this (because it is INSANE!), but it is oddly brilliant!

2. This is Pixel. Pixel is a French bulldog and has found his evil counterpart in his owner's cat. This video contains every reason I love dogs and despise cats. I mean, this cat is clearly an asshole!

3. How Rock'n'Roll Legends would look if they were still alive today. John Lennon is most shocking I think...

4. The trailer to "Mortdecai". It's funny, silly, it has Olivia Munn and Johnny Depp in it - I will most definitely watch it!

5. Aaand last but not least: Some designer is trying to make penises happen. Of course this is happening... I mean, we already had this...


Why 2015 sucks sweaty balls so far.

Last Friday a large portion of my favourite co-workers lost their jobs. The local tv station that was part of our company is now history, the people who have worked there for the past years (and in some cases: decades!) are now out of work.

There are no words to describe what happened on Friday, no words to describe the shock and the incomprehension. The weekend was filled with a haze of hours spent sitting together, drinking and chain-smoking and somehow trying to make sense of it all.

I have no idea how my working life will be,without these people within a few metres radius from my desk. My guess is: Not great. Yet I am deeply grateful that I got to know them, got to work with them and have them around for almost every day for the past year. Without them, the office already feels eerily empty.

These people were not so much co-workers as a weird kind of family to each other, fights and disagreeings about daily bullshit included. And even though I've only known them for a year and mostly got to watch from the sidelines, they have always welcomed me with open arms, invited me for beer and let me in on dirty inside jokes. You guys were a massive part of what made my job awesome!

I still don't quite believe that this is over.


There's a reason people fuck with us.

I like myself a good documentary. And sometimes, when I'm in the mood, even a weird one. I recently stumbled across this oddity by Vice on the internet and was instantly hooked. Slightly off-putting, it tells the story of the (apparently famous?!) ATL Twins. I had never even heard of them, but evidently they are a big deal in the US.

They are porn stars, actors and semi-pro skaters and are mostly known for sleeping the same bed, never being apart, dressing alike and fucking the same girls at the same time (at one point they were engaged to the same woman.). They also casually hang with Bieber and James Franco.

If you have 30 minutes to spare, you should watch the documentary below. It's a bit like a car accident, you can't really look away...

(as always, click on the picture for source)