Thursday, August 31, 2006

Holy smoke

After spending an hour reading news on the web, I too have seen the now famous John Travolta man-smooching and also enjoy the fact that Jane Fonda is coming to my land to talk about the benefits of a feminist party. But it was not until now, an HOUR LATER, that my eye caught the really great news of the day. There seems there may finally be a cure for cancer.

Unless this is a smoke screen from the Scientologist crew.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Thank you for the weekend

Dear Marc, how was your weekend?

Mine was terrific.
First there was a great table tennis party, hosted by my friend Sara (above left) and her man, Nille. The food was delicious, the beer overfloweth and while men around the world may engage in air guitar exercises while intoxicated, that was not the case last night. Thank God.

Instead, they played air ukulele.

This is a picture from downtown Stockholm, taken last night at around midnight. Don't you wish you were there? We missed you. We could have used another finalist or two in the important games.

I had the best time, then had to go home, and since there were no taxi cabs available, I did so by public transportation that brought me almost home - only half an hour by foot from my home. Once again, my feet made me feel like a fairy tale character. Last night, I felt like Cinderella's sisters. The shoes didn't fit, and the pain was immense. But damn those shoes looked great. Almost worth the pain.

Today, we had lunch at a nearby farm, pretending we were to the manor born. Except for Vanja, who pretended to be a native American acrobat, fighting a gianormous steel spider.

A showed us how to dance to make Giacometti shadows:

And then that guy from Entourage came running around.

What did you do all weekend?


Wednesday, August 23, 2006

girls who wear glasses

Dear Marc, you have any small glasses for cyclops?
We have one in the family.


Tee and Sympathy

I just received my new Moonblood t-shirt. The above picture lets you know how it looks. The one below how it makes me feel. This tee is so darn comfy, I might never take it off.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Do you need to have a lazy eye?

Dear Marc, I've stared at this dress forever now, but I still can't see the jumping dolphins. Can you?

Monday, August 21, 2006

The devil wears whatever.

Dear Marc, you've probably read "The devil wears Prada". I'm struggling through, currently on page 125 out of 390. The heroine has just described her dream man, clad in Gucci jeans and LOAFERS with TASSELS and a BLAZER. And he's not even 70 years old.

Does this book pick up in a few pages? How did it become such a hit? I just read "The nanny diaries", which was enjoyable, but this one....

How many books did you read this summer so you could watch the movie and complain about mal-casting?

Scarlett should be a perfect nanny, but shouldn't someone like Catherine Keener play Mrs X? With, say, Robert Downey Jr as Mr X? Instead of Laura Linney and Paul Giamatti filling the X's shoes. But they will probably be just perfect.

I've bought the books, I'll see the films. It seems my goal in life is to contribute to the wellbeing of already wealthy Manhattan girls.

Marimekko Mentality

Dear Marc, you make your own line of towels, don't you? Or is there no Marc Home division yet? I should know these things, but I don't. Fill me in if you do.

The other day, I was shopping for a wedding present. Not that familiar with the couple's taste, I wanted to go for something classy and timeless. In Sweden, this means I headed for the Marimekko store.

I chose a few glasses I liked and as I did, I overheard two girls standing behind me, in the plush & luxurious towel section.

Girl #1: Look at those towels. The striped green ones. We have such towels at home, but we're not allowed to use them.

Girl #2: Right. We have that too. Towels that aren't for use.

Girl #1: What's up with that?

I have no clue? Do you? Have towels at home that no one can use?


Thursday, August 17, 2006

Colour me green

Dear Marc, doesn't Christina look hot these days? I want everything she's wearing. Especially now, when that doesn't include intimate piercing jewelry!


So I am an idiot.

Note to self: Always read up on wikipedia before posting thoughts on triplets.
There can be identical anything, up to whatever. But not all make it to Playboy.
See post below.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Solve this genetic puzzle!

Dear Marc, did you hear Dr Phil's son Jay just got married? You probably do, perhaps you were even invited to the wedding. I was not, but am thinking a lot about the bride, Erica Dahm, one of the blonde triplets featured in Playboy and elsewhere, (this funny sauna spread is my favorite).

The thing is, Erica and her pretty sisters are identical triplets. How does that work. Doesn't that mean they were originally quadruplets, but one didn't make it? Did the world miss out on identical Playboy quadruplets?

Or can a fertilized egg split three-wise?

I know you're not a biologist, but you're older than me. Perhaps you can answer this one.


ps. Congratulations, Jay!

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

That perfect date

Dear Marc, I don't know how much you eavesdrop. For me, it's almost like a profession. I do it all the time, everywhere.

Once, in the video store, I fell witness to a guy setting up that perfect date. He made sure the guys behind the counter were involved.

"It's a very important night. Everything has to be just so. In fact, I would like you to come with me to the apartment to set up the moviebox".

"Surely that won't be necessary. It's so easy. Just plug it in and press play."

"But you don't understand. This is a BIG night. I've bought wine and chips and candles and...please come make sure everything works!"

"Well, we're kind of understaffed and.."

"Please. It would mean the world to me."

"Ok. We'll be there."

"Thankyou! She'll be charmed. everything will be so perfect now. She'll love it. She'll love the snacks, the wine, the candles, the movie and me!"

"Sure. By the way, what movie are you guys planning to see?"

"Passion of the Christ".

This is where the real world failed. Instead of suggesting "When Harry met Sally" or even "The Break-Up", the video guys didn't even raise an eyebrow. Why? How could they help to spoil a date more? Is this normal? Is Passion of the Christ a date movie? How about Shoa? Nice and cuddly!

The passion of the Mel made me remember this whole story. What women want. Mel Columcille Gerard Gibson. That must be other women.

I didn't trust the people in the video store before, and now I never will. They could have averted a catastrophe, instead they helped set up the movie box. From now on, I will only trust rotten tomatoes.

Want a great tip for a date movie?
Watch Fletch, again.
If your date doesn't laugh, ditch him.


Monday, August 14, 2006

Summer conversations, 2.

Dear Marc, my dad just read a few letters intended for you. He was happy to find himself mentioned, although a little saddened that the topic was his weight.

"Do you think I'm fat?"

"No dad, but you obviously do."

"Yeah, and your mom thinks I'm a little fat too."

"Does she?"

"Yes. But what can she do? We've agreed I've subjected her to fat accompli."

Friday, August 11, 2006

Hello, computer?

Dear Marc, you may wonder why you get so few postings these days. Well, let me tell you:

My computer only starts if I press start with the cord in, then remove the battery during start-up, while holding the lap top upside down.

As I proceed to work, turning the lap top the right way, I often accidentally disconnect the power and everything I've typed gets lost. To cheer me up when computer rage hits, my Mac hums a fine tune coming from a spinning library CD, permanently stuck in the DVD-slit. Can I write "slit"? Is that offensive? Sorry! My computer made me this way.

Will buy new lap top tomorrow. Throwing logic to the wind, I will get another Mac. They may break down, they may stall, they may shed little silver screws (can I write "silver screw"?) around like dandruff but they have personality. This very computer refused to co-operate at all until I brought out a regular hammer and forcefully banged my computer a few times.

Don't try that on your best friend, even if I did.

ps. Can I write "banged my computer?" Could I be suffering from computer induced Tourettes? I know I'm not the only one.

The accidental tourist

Dear Marc, one of my best friends just left for the states. She's in the air right now, headed for LA. She's one smart lady, and I'll miss her, since she'll be gone for a year. She's been working in the music business, doing PR for quite some time.

Now she's going back to school.
I had the details mixed up. I told people she was going to show biz school. Entertainment school.

She looks at me, a little worried.

"How many people have you told this?".

"Many", I say, happily, since I'm so proud of her and happy for her.

"So now all our friends think I'm going to show biz school? To learn how to sing and dance and wave a hat in the air while I sing "Cabaret"?".

"Maybe. I didn't really think it over. I just told them you were going to the states. To entertainment school".

She does happy hands, jazz hands and laughs. She's getting a masters in marketing/communication (I hope, I'm such a terrible listener!). Not really the same thing as taking a few jazz dance classes and learning how to juggle.

I'll miss her, but you should dress her. She's 6 feet, gorgeous, hilarious and smart.
Look here: (that's her to the left, kneeling next to the midget beer slut that I am)

You Americans should be nice to her.

Just as nice as the New Yorkers were who I met on my last visit there. You know that rumour, that Manhattanites are assholes?

Well, they were scambling for change to help me take the bus across the park and I was called "sweetie" 3 times in the same day. I was so surprised. Only later did I take a look in the mirror and understood what had caused this pleasant effect. Wearing my Peace on earth tee and yellow Chucks I was looking so much like a gullible "let's-pick-pocket-her" tourist that I received help from all around. My theory is this: New Yorkers may very well be cynical assholes, but like anyone else, they don't like to be predictable.

I should have gotten more of those t-shirts.


Saturday, August 05, 2006

Too good to be true

Dear Marc, I fished up a sleeve from the bag. Ramones MANIA, a great yellow compilation. The memories come back, hard, my feet start tapping. This used to be my workout album. I skipped rope to Beat on the brat and Blietzkrieg Bop. I jumped mysyelf silly to The KKK took my baby away and Rock 'n ' Roll High School. I did pushups to Howling at the moon. And then a nice little set of crunches to Needles and Pins, that fine, fine love song. Some people miss out on the romantic side of Ramones. I was never one of them.

Just take this line from 7-11 (not from Mania):

She was standing by the Space Invaders So i said can I see you later

She's busy playing, and like a gentleman, he respects that. She makes an impression, he waits her out. They find extraordinary love in 7-11, the most ordinary of ordinary places. Then she dies and he mourns her, forever. It's almost Shakespearian.

When I was 16, I was moody and blue like other teenagers, but my room was always a comfort to come back to. My room was a fun fest. I had a drum set in one corner, a trampoline in the other and on my table I had a big, nice knitting machine.

That was my room. If I saw that room in a teen movie I wouldn't have believed it.

I'm letting Vanja have a pre-taste of room magic.

Tomorrow, a different record.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

You spin me round round baby, round round, like a record baby

Dear Marc, there's a big bag in my study. I'm afraid to open it. My brother just moved and he said "I've got your old record collection in a bag here, do you want it or should I just dump it?". I had to take it. So many hours of my life, studying the sleeves, reading the lyrics.

I still haven't looked at it. I opened it just a little. The 45:ers were on top. I glimpsed "sonic boom boy", and a Dead or alive album. Then I had to zip the bag up again. I couldn't take the suspense.
What if there's no magic left?

Did we ever dance to the same music? What albums did you save from your past?
Which do you still love?
Tell me yours first, then I'll tell you mine.


Wednesday, August 02, 2006

It's not my party and I cry cause I want to


Dear Marc, you don't have kids do you? And you have a special someone?
Then you're probably welcome everywhere.

As a single person or a parent person, doors close. Otherwise nice people decide to no invite you, because "she probably can't make it" or "she'll be uncomfortable around all these couples".

I was recently uninvited to a gathering with some of the people I love most in this world.
I asked my closest and oldest friend "why did you not invite me?"
He said he assumed I couldn't make it. That the party was so far away, and what with the kids and I don't drive and blah blah blah.

He said I was welcome. I said I did not like to invite myself. But I contemplated reworking the rules. Since he was to hold the party where I already was, in our cabin by the sea, I could send the kids home with my parents and stay where I was, without food, water or car. To show that nothing can stop me! Where there is a party, that's where I'll be!

I will sit there emaciated and dehydrated. Days, perhaps weeks, will have passed before the other party guests arrive. My dress will be bleached by the sun, my hair a shadow of the do I made in preparation for the party. Too tired to talk, I will wear a big sign stating "Perhaps you do not want me here. But I still love you!".

Friends don't let friends forget friends just cause they go on to have little friends.

Now you say they might not want me there, for other reasons.
That's what I secretly think, too. But, being a prettily dressed party martyr, I give them a perfect reason to not invite me next time. A reason that we both understand and can live with.

What did you not get invited to this week?
Ps. Also please list the stuff you were invited to.
Ps 2. That pic above is from a site saying you shouldn't do drugs. Don't do drugs! It's taken from the Sailors Paper. Don't do drugs on boats! and don't sue me for linking to your picture.