Tom Clancy, Iller Illersky, Orhan Pamuk and Astrid L.
@Grocery store
S: Now that we have a lemon squeezer, we should buy oranges.
T: Yes! And we can mix orange juice with lime juice with lemon juice. And VODKA!
A guy in a Social Democratic Party jacket who just happened to walk by: Yes please!
S: You'd just love that! [packing oranges] Is this enough?
T: More!
S: They are from Soutch Africa. They have AIDS there!
T: That's why we'll have vodka in the juice, alcohol kills everything!
S: That's some excuse...
WHAT? No sand box this year?!
There is a thing called the Nobel prize in literature. If you don't know what it is, then... uh... shame on you. It's announcement is one of my favourite annual events. There's normally no wank about the other categories, but literature compensates for them all. There are always short interviews with random people in the streets who say "never heard of him, they always choose someone obscure" and there used to be a lot of wank about giving the prize to Astrid Lindgren before it was too late. And when it was too late, there was more wank. Last year's laureate, Harold Pinter, wasn't even published in Swedish before he got the prize, and there was so much wank that it kept us ROTFLOLing for a month. But this year, it looks like there'll be no kindergarten fights. Cooome on? Please? For me?
Horace Engdahl (som är med på listan över mina fangirlobjekt) svarar på läsarnas frågor i DN
TOP GUN
is the best film EVER.
And just for the record, tomorrow is the last day to send university applications for the next term. PAAANIC. Total bloody panic.
S: Now that we have a lemon squeezer, we should buy oranges.
T: Yes! And we can mix orange juice with lime juice with lemon juice. And VODKA!
A guy in a Social Democratic Party jacket who just happened to walk by: Yes please!
S: You'd just love that! [packing oranges] Is this enough?
T: More!
S: They are from Soutch Africa. They have AIDS there!
T: That's why we'll have vodka in the juice, alcohol kills everything!
S: That's some excuse...
WHAT? No sand box this year?!
There is a thing called the Nobel prize in literature. If you don't know what it is, then... uh... shame on you. It's announcement is one of my favourite annual events. There's normally no wank about the other categories, but literature compensates for them all. There are always short interviews with random people in the streets who say "never heard of him, they always choose someone obscure" and there used to be a lot of wank about giving the prize to Astrid Lindgren before it was too late. And when it was too late, there was more wank. Last year's laureate, Harold Pinter, wasn't even published in Swedish before he got the prize, and there was so much wank that it kept us ROTFLOLing for a month. But this year, it looks like there'll be no kindergarten fights. Cooome on? Please? For me?
Horace Engdahl (som är med på listan över mina fangirlobjekt) svarar på läsarnas frågor i DN
TOP GUN
is the best film EVER.
And just for the record, tomorrow is the last day to send university applications for the next term. PAAANIC. Total bloody panic.