This yahtzee totally makes up for me being unemployed and broke

I have always been known for taking great pride in accomplishing rather small and redundant tasks; it will always be easier to be able to sing all of the Disney theme songs in a highpitched tune whilst dancing undignifyingly and scaring the children to tears than to pay your bills in time, be in charge of your life and other trivial and meaningless things. I live for my art. However, last night I think I overstepped a certain line. Or rather made cartwheels over it while singing the theme to The Little Mermaid, but you get the point. I was playing Yahtzee with my family and my new boyfriend (oh yes, I do know how to party down on a saturday night!), and tried my best to make a good impression and keep my family from actually being themselves. That's how genocide starts, you know. The thing is, I made a beautiful thing last night. I scored Yahtzee TWICE! And as a humble and responsible adult, I of course broke out into something straight out of Scarface or the Godfather. 

Me: "YAHTZEE! AGAIN!"

Mother: "Look at her go. She is so proud. Let her have this moment." 

Me: "I AM THE MUTHERFAKKIN CHAMPION!!"

Brother: "Someone tampered with the dice."

Father: "I don't like spending time with any of you."

Me: (doing an Italian-American voice): "FIRST YOU GET THE MONEY, THEN YOU GET THE POWER, THEN YOU GET THE WOMEN!"

Boyfriend: "I think that you are taking this a bit too seriously."

Me: "Here you go, buy yourself something pretty", and stuffs a bill down the cleavage of his shirt. You know, to make him feel special and loved.

Boyfriend: "Ehrm.. Thank you?"

Me: "I buy you diamonds. I take care of you. But if I ever catch you disrespecting me, I will..."

Mother: "Rebecka, what have I told you about threatening your boyfriends? Not before dessert, that's what."

It is important to acknowledge when you succeed in life; there is no point in covering up your awesomeness by trying to be humble. I don't need to be humble. I scored motherfucking yahtzee TWICE! 

Kittens - a cynical woman's worst enemy

I have during the years created a quite solid reputation as a stern, cynical and sometimes straight out disgusting girl with a tendency to say inappropriate things when nervous and being chronically afraid of pregnant women (they have another living parasitic thing inside of them!!! Has nobody seen Alien vs Predator?? Don't tell me I didn't warn you.) My sense of humor is upright abnormally politically incorrect, and I am seriously considering printing businesscard with my name and the sentence "I'm not a nazi, it was just a joke!" as a social procaution. But there is one thing, that completely shatters my bitter exterior and sends me into a downward spiral of "OMFG ITS SO CUTE I WANNA EAT IT AND PUKE IT UP AND SNUGGLE WITH IT UNTIL I DIIIIIIIIIE"s and "LOOK AT THE LITTLE FEET, OH THE LITTLE FEET! STOP STARING AT THE NEWS ABOUT ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE, LOOK AT THE GODDAMN LITTLE FEET!" What it comes down to is to prioritize.

Let me introduce you to my very own kryptonite: Nietzsche. And I love him even though he doesn't have syphilis. But just because I am of a very forgiving nature.

Wife-beatnik, at your service

My ego and I have had quite a complicated relationship ever  since I hit puberty; most of the time we get along just fine, smalltalk about the weather and part as friends - sometimes we are even the best of friends (always when alcohol is involved), the BFFs of self confidence, and my ego supports any spontanious whimsy of mine, for example, to try to put on an Oscar Wilde-play using onion rings at the bar or my decisive yearning to try to surf on top of a police car (if they didn't want people to dance on top of it, why put on the funloving untz untz light?) But the past few years, I have grown quite tired of being polite towards my ego. I can sometimes catch my self esteem glancing at other people's egos, wearing those tight little skirts to show off its taunt perception of my worthiness as a human being and letting all sorts of people eyeball the goods - the diploma from the creative writing competition, relatively sufficient grades and acceptable looks. Well, I have put enough of this crap - it is time to teach my self esteem a lesson. Putting on the wife beater shirt, thrusting a big piece of snuff up my lip, and   chasing my ego down, trapping it in a corner with a raised palm.

BITCH I TOLD YOU NOT TO MAKE ME FEEL GOOD ABOUT MYSELF!!
Please, you have been drinking. Please, not in front of the children; don't let Potential and Perception of body see you like this! I promise, I'll be good!
BITCH YOU BETTER BE GOOD! SO IF I ASK YOU "AM I GOOD ENOUGH?", WHAT DO YOU TELL ME?
I'll tell you... I'll tell you... You are good enough?
*SLAP*
WHAT DO YOU TELL ME?
That you are fat, worthless and ignorant, and that you spend too much time on the internet.
THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! AND WHEN PEOPLE ASK YOU WHERE YOU GOT THE BRUISES FROM?
I'll tell them I fell down the stairs.
GOOD GIRL! HAVE ANOTHER SLAP!


It is important to keep your ego in check -it asked for trouble with its "you are beautiful because you are you" - LIES UPON LIES! Now bring me a beer.

An introduction

Hello, fellow procrastinators. I've done something so radical, so groundbreaking that scientists worldwide gasp of chock and amazement and women approach me in the streets, begging me to bless their babies' foreheads with a tender kiss - I've started a blog. So yeah. Take that society.

This blog will probably just be an outlet where I can write and say things that generally just make people throw things at me and chase me with pitchforks and torches ablaze. Apart from my mothertongue Swedish, I am also fluent in awkward silence as well as drunken gibberish, with a P.h.D in ruining family dinners by using sentences such as "I think I would be really lousy at committing genocide - I mean, I'm such a procrastinator. I would probably start the day with checking facebook, reading a few blogs, calling a friend and drawing quirky genocide-to-do-lists before actually getting on with the task at hand."

                                           Fuck iPad, I want this for christmas. 



Interests are dressing up my cat Nietzsche in bowties and letting him play with such wonderful toys as these, replacing friends with memes, googling "how conjoined twins have intercourse" and studying history at Lunds university in Sweden. I used to have a life which prohibited me from blogging, but thankfully I have now had that pest taken care of, so now I'm free as a bird to spread my literary faeces across the internetz.