Later losers!

I’ve left Bø for good. My flight home is on Tuesday, I’ll be back on sweet Washington soil by Wednesday. I’m thrilled to be out of the Norwegian version of the town from Footloose, but not so happy to be leaving my friends and Norway. I met a lot of people this semester, some of you are amazing heroes (Chanels No. 1-6) and some of you are awful weirdos who wouldn’t know fashion if it slapped you upside the head.

It’s no secret that this semester was difficult for me. I’m incredibly mentally unstable, so everything is difficult for me. If I forget to say hi back to someone who greets me in passing, I’ll obsess about it for a week. If I think I look ugly I’ll spend the whole day hiding from people and usually sneak into the woods so no human is forced to look upon my visage. I’m like Baldwin IV, Crusader king of Jerusalem. He had leprosy.

I was finally forced to come to terms with a significant trauma in my life, which is part of the reason why I’m so mean and nasty (shout out to the Pierce County Sheriff’s Department!). Also Arwen, my cat child that I raised from a tiny kitten, died while I was gone. I lost the cat who spent every night during the worst years of my life curled up next to me. The emotional blows left me feeling like an old dried out corn cob (nibbled upon). So I’m sorry if I wasn’t as nice or as fun or as accommodating as I could’ve been, but whatever. At least you’re not me.

My friends really made this semester. I’ve spent the last 5 months marinating in a sublime soup of female company, made up of Elise, Vince, Kelsie, Karin, and Andrea (from the Luther crewther as I annoyingly call it). Jackson is also my good buddy pal but he’s not a girl so he’s more like the dinner roll that you eat with the soup. I know lots of people (idiots) think women are catty and mean, but my female friends have never told me I look like a stupid hoe or insulted me during a game of cards. In return for their love and generosity I provided them with an excellent example of what not to do in your life. Andrea is going to visit the PLU crew this spring and we’re all going to collect sand dollars together together, now that I’ve written it in a blog post the contract is sealed. The rest of you can come too if you stop pronouncing Rainier wrong.

This is embarrassingly nice and incredibly off-brand for me, but my friends are really so good. They told me that they thought I was smart, really smart. That was incredible for me, because I think I’m quite stupid and have been told that more than once. I know a lot about Lewis & Clark but not much else. I was just blown away. Like wow, how could they have such a high opinion of me? These people are truly 6 of the 8 wonders of the world. 7 and 8 are Arwen and Sailor. Sure they’re not around anymore but neither is the Hanging Garden of Babylon and that pile of crap is considered a wonder.

I did not enjoy my academic experience because HSN is a poorly run school where nobody is ever in their offices. All the classes were pathetically easy. As a 3rd year Norwegian language student I didn’t especially enjoy going over the alphabet in class. I know very well that I’m not perfect in Norwegian and I make lots of mistakes, but come on. Most of the material was literally taken from a book I already own. I probably sound incredibly obnoxious but I won’t be able to take Norwegian this spring and was really hoping to be pushed hard during this last semester. We hardly ever met for the friluftsliv class and Regional Identity was 2 hours weekly of the most boring parts of Norway’s history. St. Olav who? Let’s yet again talk about logging and the invention of nynorsk. I know nothing interesting has ever happened in Telemark but there’s no need to punish us for that.

However, Norway in general is simply sublime. Everything is so organized and quiet and the people are friendlier than I’ve been told, except for young Norwegian men, who only communicate through nervous glances. I would have liked to see more dogs in malls but most of the world is woefully regressive on this point so I won’t single out Norway. Here you’re free to wear aggressively Nordic knitwear. I felt like I was finally living my truth.

I’ll be continuing my blog after getting home, I never miss a chance to torture others with my heinous opinions. It will still be written in 2 languages, although I’m very sensitive about my Norwegian right now because the cashier at 7-11 didn’t understand when I asked for a piece of carrot cake. It was embarrassing. I’ll probably make a post with like every picture I took so be prepared to have your tits blown clean off!

Here’s a list of some topics I’ll soon be absolutely butchering:

“How To Set Things On Fire and Get Away with It”

“We’d All Be Worthless Scum Without Dogs”

“An Exhaustive List of Everyone Who Has Ever Wronged Me and The Punishments They’ll Receive in Hell”

“Why You Deserved to be Bitten by That Dog”

“The Tragic Fashion Disasters of People I Personally Know”

“How to Astral Project into Your Enemies’ Nightmares”

“Why Animals Should Rise Up and Annihilate Humanity”

and finally,

“Cursed Images: Part Two”

Now to those who knew me in Bø: I have eyes and ears everywhere, and if you badmouth me I’ll drop a nasty secret about you in a post and tag you in it. If I don’t know a secret I’ll make one up.

Ta det med ro og jeg skal se deg igjen snart, Norge.




#it’s called fashion, look it up

Since tons of my followers (translation: 0 of my followers) have been begging me to do this, I decided to finally write a post about my iconic looks from this last semester. My style is incredibly unique because nobody else is stupid enough to wear crop tops during the winter in Norway. I would say my #1 most outstanding look was this little number:

Fordi massevis av følgerne mine (oversettelse: null av følgerne mine) har spurt meg å skrive det, bestemte jeg endelig å skrive en post om ikoniske stilen min fra det siste semesteret. Stilen min er veldig unik fordi ingen andre er dumm nok å kle crop tops på seg i den norske vinteren. Jeg sier at mitt mest enstående antrekk var det:


There I am wearing the Allsaints 2016 little witch hat, a slip dress, and knee highs like nobody’s business, and tbqh I had that party SHOOK. You know what they say, less is more. Don’t forget the choker of course, it really screams, “I have deep seated trauma and serious emotional problems!”

If you want to copy my style (of course you do), then just wear as little as possible while still remaining within the bounds of the law. I’m sure my last ex remembers with horror the “dress” I wore to the 2016 Villa backyard kickback. It was there that I told his friend he was wearing women’s sunglasses. Denmark’s weave was SNATCHED.

I come up with all my outfits while meditating to a potent playlist that includes John Denver, the Red Army Choir, and ghostly sound effects. All this combines to astral project me to a realm where foul images are placed into my mind. You could even call those images cursed.

Jeg hadde på meg den Allsaints 2016 heks luen, ei kjole, og knesokker. Dere vet hva de sier, mindre er mer. Ikke glem chokeren selvfølgelig, det sier egentlig at jeg har dyp traumer og alvorlige emosjonelle problemer.

Hvis du vil kopiere stilen min (selvsagt), bare kle de minste klærne som er lovlige på deg. Jeg er sikkert at eksen min husker med redsel kjolen som jeg kledde på meg på 2016 Villa festen i hagen. Danmarks weave ble SNAPPET.

Jeg tenker opp antrekkene min mens jeg mediterer til en kraftig spilleliste som inkluderer John Denver, det Røde Hæren koret, og spøkelse lydeffekter. De kombinerer for å kaste meg til en andre dimensjon hvor vulgære bilder settes i hjernen min. Dere kan kalle slike bilder forbannet.

I also gain inspiration from this genre:

Jeg tar også inspirasjon fra denne sjangeren:

One of my favorite pastimes is looking like I belong so innocent passerby are tricked into asking me for directions. Like 4 people asked me for help in Oslo and I sent them all in the wrong direction because I don’t know anything. Seriously, Oslo is the only place where people give me any credit for intelligence, even though I rode the bus in a circle.

Back at PLU I get asked all the time if I’m Norwegian, even if I’ve met the person before and told them I’m from Seattle. I love that. It really shows that people listen to me. It’s pretty easy to copy Norwegian style, just don’t wear colors and have blonde hair. I used this to convince lots of drunk Americans that I’ve never heard of electric cars because Norway doesn’t have them.

I know that my stolen Norwegian couture is more blending in than I’ve claimed my style to be, but there’s a time and place for everything. I have the body of a labor camp survivor, I require clothing. Wrap that scarf around my stinking head!

Ett av mitt favoritt tidsfordriv er å se ut som jeg passer inn så forbipasserende tror at jeg kjenner byen og kan gi retninger. Omtrent 4 mennesker spurte for hjelp fra meg i Oslo men jeg ga alle gale retninger fordi jeg vet ingen. Oslo er det eneste stedet hvor folk tror at jeg har etterretning, selv om ridde jeg bussen i en sirkel.

På PLU synes folk at jeg er norsk, selv om har de møtet jeg allerede og ble fortalt at jeg kommer fra Seattle. Jeg elsker det. Det viser at mennesker hører virkelig på meg. Det er lett å kopiere norsk stil, bare ikke kle farger på seg og har gult hår. På grunn av det har jeg overbevist mange fylle amerikanere at jeg vet ikke elektriske biler er virkelige fordi de finst ikke i Norge.

Jeg vet at min stjålet norsk stil er ikke så unik som jeg har krevd, men det finnes en tid og et sted til alt. Jeg er veldig liten og må ha varme klær på meg. Sett det jævlige skjerfet på hodet mitt!

Here’s a little scientific diagram to help you out with this concept:

Bildet skal hjelpe dere med begrepet:


My last category of looks is the most important and really forms the meat of my wardrobe: sweats and pajamas. I feel like it’s couture. I never wear real pants inside. I’m wearing pajamas right now, and have hardly taken them off for the past week. In fact, I hope to be buried in my pajamas when I die. Don’t cremate me, I want the future owners of my house to get a nasty surprise when they pull up the floorboards.

Den siste gruppen av antrekkene mine er viktigste og blir den største delen av skapet mitt:  svettebuksere og pyjamas. Jeg føler at det er couture. Jeg har aldri ekte bukser på meg inne. Jeg har pyjamas på meg akkurat nå og har sjelden tatt dem av i den siste uka. Jeg håper å være gravlagt i mine pyjamas. Ikke kremer meg, jeg vil at de fremtidige eierene av huset mitt kommer til å få en ekkel overraskelse når de trekker opp gulvet.



I’m back losers

I would just like to start this post out by saying that I would love to cook my din din right now but my housemate is in the kitchen so I can’t. I don’t know who it is but ever since I decided that they must be stealing my socks I refuse to talk to any of them. Why would they steal my socks? People are so mean to me.

I haven’t been up to much since my last post, other than behaving terribly and spending lots of money. So yes I am still completely crazy and my grip on reality is becoming ever looser! I will never change!

Of course NSB has continued to commit horrible offenses against me. I had to sit on the ground on the way back from Drammen because the trains were “full” and the cafe is only for “paying customers.” Also they wouldn’t let me steal coffee. RUDE. Worst of all, I was told that vomiting is not allowed in the cafe! I had to go all the way to the bathroom!

Jeg begynner posten med bare å si at jeg ville elske å lage middagen min akkurat nå men huskameraten min er på kjøkkenet så derfor kan jeg ikke. Jeg vet ikke hvem er på kjøkkenet men siden bestemte jeg at huskameratene stjeler sokkene mine, nekte jeg å snakke med dem. Hvorfor stjeler de sokkene mine? Mennesker er så grusom mot meg.

Jeg har ikke hatt det travelt i det siste men jeg har oppførte meg forferdelig ut og brukt mye penger. Jo, jeg fortsetter å være helt gal og kan ikke få tak i virkelighet! Jeg kommer til å andre meg aldri!

Selvfølgelig har NSB fortsatt å gjøre meg dårlig. Jeg ble tvunget å sitte på gulvet av toget tilbake fra Drammen fordi toget var “fylt” og kafeen brukes kun som “kunder.” Jeg var også ikke tillatt å stjele kaffe. UHØFLIG. Det verste var at de fortalte jeg at jeg kunne ikke spy i kafeen! Jeg måtte gå til do!


Here’s a pic of me posing strangely yet seductively in Tønsberg. That wall is medieval. I took a trip there a week ago with Jackson and Elise. We scammed the Airbnb guy by telling him that only 2 people were coming, but really there was 3 of us! We all had to sleep in the same bed, so it was like winning times 2. Tønsberg is the oldest town in Norway so obviously I peeped some ancient monuments [eye emoji]. Jackson was very excited over the whale skeletons and preserved fetuses we saw. He’s a real sicko.

Her stiller jeg i en rar og forførende måte i Tønsberg. Veggen er fra middelalderen. Jeg reiste der for ei uke siden med Jackson og Elise. Vi lurte den Airbnb fyren og fortalte ham at bare 2 mennesker skulle komme, men egentlig var det 3 mennesker! Vi måtte sove i bare ei senge, derfor var det som vi vant dobbel! Tønsberg er den eldste byen i Norge så selvfølgelig kikket jeg på noen gamle monumenter [øye emoji]. Jackson ble veldig glade over hval skjeletter og bevarte fostre som vi så på. Han er egentlig skummel.


Yet another pic of me looking INCREDIBLE. This is at the Thanksgiving dinner hosted for international students, so of course I had to look unbearably sexy. 4 children also attended the gathering, which is 4 children too many to be like anywhere. I saw how much joy they brought to others and I hated it. I should be the center of attention at all times. If I was president I would pass a law requiring everyone to mail me a compliment every day. I didn’t bring a dish or money so was harassed by a jack-booted thug who happened to be 6 years old.

Afterwards we went to Quiz Night at Kroa (Norwegians love quizzes). My team didn’t win but I totally deserved an award for knowing the anser to every question about the USSR. Soviet facts are implanted into my brain every night as I listen to the vocal stylings of the Red Army choir.

Horribly, tragically, devastatingly, I was only to see about 30 minutes of the Nation Dog Show on Thanksgiving. We started watching at the wrong time and the internet connection was trash, but at least we saw who got Best in Show. It was the greyhound, even though the cavalier ALWAYS deserves to win. I wanted to spend the rest of the night forcing everyone to watch videos of homeless dogs getting life saving surgery, but SOME PEOPLE wanted to watch football, a sport for boob heads. So I went home and cried. JK, I talked to Lilz on the phone.

Enda et annet bilde av meg hvor jeg ser FANTASTISK ut. Det er på høstfesten for utenlandske studenter, så selvfølgelig måtte jeg se utrolig sexy ut. 4 barn var også der, som er 4 barn for mange å være på et sted. De ga så mye glede til de andre og jeg hatet det. Jeg vil være i sentrum av oppmerksomhet i alle ganger. Hvis jeg blir president, skal jeg skape en lov at alle må sende meg et kompliment hverdag. Jeg brakt ikke en rett eller penger så jeg ble trakasserte som en thug som var også 6 år gammel.

Etterpå gikk vi til Quiz Natt på Kroa (nordmenn elsker quizzer). Laget mitt vant ikke men jeg fortjente en premie fordi jeg vet svaret til hver spørsmål om USSR. Sovjetiske fakta blir implantert i hjernen min hver natt mens jeg hører på russisk musikk av Det Røde Hæren Koret.

Dessverre så jeg på bare 30 minutter av Den Nasjonale Hund Visningen på høstfesten. Vo begynte å se på det på feil tidspunkt og internet-tilkobling var søppel men i det minste kunne vi finne ut hvilken hund ble vinneren. Det var greyhounden men cavalieren fortjener å vinne ALLTID. Jeg ville tilbringe resten av kvelden å tvinge de andre å se på hjemløse hunder som får deres liv reddet av kirurgi, men NOEN ville se på fotball som er en idrett til puppehoder. Så jeg gikk hjem og gråt. Bare tuller, snakket jeg med Lilz på telefonen.

Last Friday the whole Outdoor Perspectives (or whatever it’s called) class went on a field trip like we’re 8 years old to Oslo. These pictures are from the tippity top of the Holmenkollen ski jump. The museum there was really boring but I knew these iconic views would get lots of likes on instagram. I don’t like anything remotely related to mechanics or  tools or fun. I mean I like skiing but I don’t care who invented the self-cleaning ski boot or whatever. I bought a really expensive sweater there, so it was worth it I suppose.

Next we went to the Kon Tiki museum, which was cool because they had a really big model of a whale shark and a video of fish. I can’t believe Thor Heyerdahl just set off into the ocean without so much as a washcloth. I’m irritatingly high maintenance (like Monica) so I can’t fathom people who are ok with life without moisturizer and Crest white strips. I haven’t gotten my brows done for 5 months and life is really starting to look like it’s not worth living.

The last museum we went to was the Fram museum, which is built around the polar ship Fram and is all about Norway’s arctic explorations. Norway was the first country to reach the North Pole, which was a pointless exercise in human vanity. Do you know how many dogs they killed on those expeditions? God will surely smite humanity for our arrogance, we have already been judged and sentenced. I hope the frostbite was worth it.

Some may take issue with my opinion but to them I will say just this: I’ve never learned anything in my life and I pull all my opinions straight out of my colon. You’re wasting your time with me.

Siste fredag dro den hele friluftsliv klassen til Oslo som vi er barn. Bildene ble tatt på toppen av den Holmenkollen hoppbakken. Museet der er veldig kjedelig men jeg vet at de ikoniske utsiktene kommer til å få mange poenger på instagram. Jeg liker ikke noe som er mekanisk eller blir relatert til utstyre og morsomhet. Jeg liker å ski men jeg bryr meg ikke om hvem oppfunnet skistøvler eller hva. Jeg kjøpte en veldig dyr genser på stedet så turen ble verdt det, synes jeg.

Etter det reiste vi til Kon Tiki museet som var kult fordi det hadde en enorm modell av en hval og en video av noen fisk. Jeg kan ikke tro at Thor Heyerdahl seilte ut på havet uten bare et håndkle. Jeg er et menneske som har veldig høy vedlikehold (akkurat som Monica) så jeg kan ikke skjønne folk som klarer seg uten fuktighetskrem eller Crest hvite striper. Livet ser mørkt ut fordi jeg har ikke tatt vare på øyenbrynene min for 5 måneder nå.

Endelig dro vi til Fram Museet som ble bygget rundt skipet Fram og er opptatt med Norges arktiske undersøkelser. Norway nådde Nordpolen første som var en målløs øvelse i menneskelig forfengelighet. Vet dere hvor mange hunder ble drept på undersøkelsene? Gud skal sikkert ødelegge mennesker for hovmodet vårt, blir vi dømt allerede. Jeg håper at frostskader var verdt det.

Noen kommer til å bli sint fordi av meningene mine men jeg sier til dem bare det: Jeg har aldri lært noe i livet mitt og jeg trekker meningene mine ut fra min kolon. Dere kaster bort deres tid med meg.

Everyone else left Friday night except for me and Karin’s cool cousin Hannah. We kept running into everyone else on the way back downtown and had to say goodbye like 3 times. Some maestro was practicing Christmas songs on the trumpet in the building where I was staying so that was lit. On Saturday I went to the Viking Ship Museum and the Cultural Museum. In the viking museum some kid was like, “Why don’t they have any goooold?” Well if you’d read the signs you’d know that the gold was all plundered by grave robbers, you little turd. Anywaysies, the artifacts were amazing, like you’ve never seen such intricate carving. The Oseberg ship was the most impressive and was the final resting place of a powerful woman. One day I too hope to rise to power and dominate others by stepping on the heads of my friends and relatives.

Alle andre dro tilbake på fredagskveld bortsett fra jeg og Karins kul kusine som heter Hannah. Vi møtet alle andre på veien tilbake til sentrum og måtte si ha det tre ganger. Noen øvde julesanger på trompet i bygningen som jeg bodde på så det var kult. På lørdag dro jeg til Vikingskiphuset og Folkemuseet. I Vikingskiphuset sa et barn, “Hvorfor har viking gravhaugene ingen gull?” Hvis du hadde lest tegn skulle du lære at gullet ble plyndret av tyver, du lille bæsj. Likevel var gjenstandene utrolig gode. Dere har aldri sett på slik vakker utskjæring. Oseberg skipet var mest imponerende og var gravhaugen til ei kraftig kvinne. I framtiden håper jeg også å bli kraftig og dominere over andre fordi jeg knuste min venner og slektninger. 

These are buildings from the Cultural Museum. They’re all originals that were transported to Oslo and reassembled. Norwegians love to put grass on their rooftops. All of their architecture is irresistibly cute, which is how they trick us into forgetting that they’re oil tycoons who run the world.

Most of these buildings are really old, and were used up until the late 1800s and early 1900s. Lots of Norwegians still used open hearths in the middle of the room until relatively recently as well.

Disse er bygninger fra Folkemuseet. De er opprinnelige laget på andre sted i Norge og ble tatt til Oslo og ombygd. Nordmenn elsker å sette gress på takene sine. Norsk arkitektur er veldig søt som er hvordan nordmenn lurer oss til å glemme at de er olje konger og driver hele jorden. 

Det meste av bygningene er veldig gamle og ble brukt før det tidlige 1900-tallet. Mange nordmenn fortsatt å bruke ekte åpne peiser i senteren av et rom før det siste også.

This is the oldest wooden building in the world, built in the late 1200s. It’s a typical medieval farmhouse, with no windows and a fire pit in the center of the main room. I know that you philistines know nothing of medieval construction but this is the goods right here. The Big Log. In those days people didn’t really have separate rooms of any sort, and often animals lived in the same building. So you got to live with all your barnyard animal friends, which is amazing, but you had to look at the ugly mugs of your family 24/7, which is torture. Probably couldn’t even close your eyes to get away.

Det er det eldste trehuset i verden som ble bygget opp i det sene 1200-tallet. Det er ei typisk stue fra middelalderen med ingen vindu og en peise i senteren av det store rommet. Jeg vet at dere tosker har ingen kunnskap om husbygning fra middelalderen men det er de gode tingene akkurat der. Den Store Loggen. I gammeldags hadde folk ikke sitt eget rom og dyr bodde ofte i den sammen bygningen. Så du bodde med dyrevennene dine men du måtte se på de stygge ansiktene av familien din hele døgnet som er tortur. Trolig kunne du ikke stenge øyene dine.


Also I found out how I’ll die. This is entirely accurate, as most of what has happened to me in my life has been because I didn’t want to make waves. Just name a more iconic duo than my crippling lack of self-esteem and my insatiable need to be liked by everyone! It’s actually quite amazing that I haven’t been sex murdered yet.

Dessuten fant jeg ut hvordan jeg kommer til å dø. Det er helt riktig og det meste som har skjedd til jeg i mitt liv skjedde fordi jeg ville ikke plage andre. Bare si en mer ikonisk duo enn min ødeleggende mangel på selvfølelse og mitt umettelig behov å være likte av alle! Der er egentlig sjokkerende at jeg har ikke blitt sex drept ennå.