Gone shopping

I spent 6 hours yesterday roaming from shop to shop, running away from hordes of screaming children, trying to avoid shopper enthusiasts gone totally mad and being jostled by what seemed to be the best part of the entire human population, all trying to break the current world record in squeezing inside one shop.

But in the end it was worth all the trouble, with the much-appreciated help from H I now know that I want rosewood-coloured laminate on my floor and which colour will end up on the bedroom walls. The exercise did not help me to get rid of this godforsaken flu I've been suffering for the past couple of days but hey, in a couple of months I don't have to be ill in an unstylish enviroment. In addition, I have purchased a 30 x 90 cm poster of a basset hound, a pillow shaped like a crab (don't ask, it simply begged to be bought), been donated a table, a Bonk Art poster (it reminded H of Rammstein's music) and also been asked whether I'd be interested in giving a good loving home to a surplus sofa. In short, life is good.

Anyway, to continue the successful series of totally useless but fun links, I can now with some confidence reveal that were I a dog, I'd be a Welsh Terrier.

Does this mean I'm a grown up now?

Today finally the apartment I had my eye on became mine. I had thought the actual event would have been filled with sombre people in black suits, suitably serious atmosphere and more, you know, ceremonies. Like the bank demanding I'd have to sign my soul over to them in blood. I didn't expect a light, airy room with a fashionable Marimekko tablecloth, a bowl full of apples and no more to do than to sign a few papers and then pocketing the keys.

Everything's been happening so quickly that I have been suffering a some kind of post-purchase depression. I can't shake the feeling that

a) There's something terribly wrong with the apartment, and I keep imagining the seller and the real eastate broker now opening bottles of champagne, lighting expensive cigars and chuckling the word "sucker!" not believing their luck,

b) Even if there wasn't anything wrong (or that I could fix whatever it was), if I ever wanted to sell the bloody place, no one would want to touch it,

c) It's going to suck each and every cent I'll ever earn as long as I live,

or d) my parents, who live near by, will lose all their understanding in what is my life/home/territory and what is theirs.

Plus, all the furniture I currently own are a bookshelf and a bed. It'll be ages before I can call anyone over and who knows, they might completely forget my very existance during the time I'm trying to hunt down a sofa.

In any case, I now own an apartment. I can't say that I'd feel any more grown up than before.

And now for something completely different...

Hamster! A dentist! Hard porn! Steven Seagull! Warrior! This rifle! In me the fishmaster!

Dear Sirs,

I appreciate the importance of hosting the ASEM meeting here in Helsinki, what with all the publicity and money and whatnot but I swear, if the goddamned helicopter does not disappear from above my home right now so help me any passing deity I'll climb on top of the roof and give them the finger.

It appeared first at 8 bloody a.m this morning, making a godawful noise and waking me up and throughout the day I have had the pleasure and privilege to listen to the sweet melodies it creates every 30 minutes. Give a policeman a helicopter and they think it's Christmas all over again...

Why, if you absolutely have to arrange these kinds of meetings, not lease a suitable remote island somewhere out of everybody's way? Yesterday morning on my way to work I spent at least 5 minutes at a zebra crossing staring at the red light, the absolutely car-less road, and the dozen or so policemen loitering about with the air of giving me at least a sharp look had I so much as thought about crossing the road until the green light went on. Our deliveries were 2 hours late thanks to the extensive security checks. The wannabe-rioters were on my way when I tried to get back home some 10 hours later. All these little nuisances would be so easy ot overcome if one were to put some though into the location.

Besides, it's amazing how quickly you can hammer out important decisions if you have to dig your own toilet.



Today's attempts to drown out the helicopter engine:
Laibach: B-maschina
Schmerz: Gott
Corvus Corax: Venus Vina Musica