Fantasies come true

Gosh, I don't know what to say
I'm really glad you feel that way

'Cause I'm afraid
That I like you more
Than I ever liked
Any guy before

Speaking of, I'm relieved to be able to air this in a public forum: How shitty are Avril's friends, as portrayed in her seminal work, "Sk8tr Boi?". According to the song, this dude they all went to school with, and on whom Avril had a secret forbidden crush, turned into a rock star. And she discovers -- whilst home alone with her baby -- that he's having a local concert. So she calls her friends, and, I quote, "They already know. They've got tickets to see his show." WTF! Why didn't any of these so-called friends call her and say, "Dude, Frank (or whoever) is like a ROCK STAR now! Isn't that crazy? He's playing here Friday night -- do you want to come?" Instead, they're all going out to party and leaving her at home alone! It's mean. I think Avril's biggest problem herein is not that she lost her rock star high school crush, but that her friends blow. Also, I just realized that the person in that song to whom that happens is not Avril, but some other girl, and Avril is rubbing it in that she's dating Frank the High School Rocker now. Avril, that girl doesn't have any friends and you got the guy, so maybe stop gloating.

(Btw, den sangen er nok et flashback til åttende >_<)

Something about short drummers...

George: What's the matter with you, then?
Ringo: It's his grandfather. I can tell he doesn't like me. It's cause I'm little.
George: Ah, you've got an inferiority complex, you have.
Ringo: Yeah, I know, that's why I play the drums - it's me active compensatory factor.


Åh, om dere bare visste hvem dette minner meg om...

Filmer jeg har sett i det siste...

Og apropo






Jeg begynner for øvrig å tro litt mer på min egen happy ending <3

GEORGE: "Ringo and I are getting married."
RINGO: "Oh? To whom?"
GEORGE: "To each other. But that's a thing you'd better keep a secret."
RINGO: "You better not tell anybody."
GEORGE: I mean, if we said something like that, people'd probably think we're queers. After all, that's not the sort of thing you can put in a reputable magazine like PLAYBOY. And anyway, we don't want to start the rumor going."


Og så lurer de på hvorfor...

Jeg hadde helt glemt at jeg fulgte denne bloggen, til det i dag dukket opp masse nye innlegg på BlogLovin.






Flott da.

(Har ikke kilder, dessverre)

Jeg har vært forelska i Sondre Lerche siden Two Way Monologue-videoen.

Og så i duett med en av mine favorittsangere da...

Jeg elsker dette bildet av the Beatles.

Det er så sykt cheesy, de ser ut som et danseband^^

Hver gang jeg ser denne, forelsker jeg meg i Hugh Grant igjen.

I'm kinda pretty
And pretty damn smart
I like romantic things
Like music and art
And as you know
I have a gigantic heart
So why don't I have a boyfriend?
FUCK!
It sucks to be me

"I'm not amused, but George and Ringo are; by the horse montage."

"Don't get trampled, John. Random cop."
(den er frickings awesome)

Trefusis watched him contentedly.
"A good wine is like a woman," he said. "Except of course it doesn't have breasts. Or arms and a head. And it can't speak or bear children. In fact, come to think of it, a good wine isn't remotely like a woman at all. A good wine is like a good wine."
"I'm rather like a good wine too," said Adrian.
"You improve with age?"
"No," said Adrian. "Whenever I'm taken out I get drunk."
"Except that in your case you get laid down after drinking, not before."

Til å bli glad av

(trykk på bilde for link)

Required listening

når du går hjem alene midt på natta, og du kan ha volumet på fullt...



og den gjør deg så lykkelig at du danser. Omtrent som historien bak:

"The idea for the song came about when Starr was on a boating trip with his family in Sardinia in 1968. He ordered Fish and Chips for lunch, but instead of fish he got squid. Then the boat's captain told Starr about how octopuses travel along the sea bed picking up stones and shiny objects with which to build gardens, Starr said that hearing about octopuses spending their days collecting shiny objects at the bottom of the sea was one of the happiest things he had ever heard, inspiring him to write this song."
- wikipedia

Keith: Do you wanna have sex?
Dave: sure.
Keith: I wanna do it on the floor.
Dave: OK. Just let me put these groceries away.

Som kommentaren under sa, aww, John has a man-crush on Ringo. How sweet.
Og George er så søt når han nesten river ned den greia (1:32) ^^

Billy: That's the thing about Narciussus, it's not that he's so fucking in love with himself, because he isn't at all, he fucking hates himself. It's that without that reflection looking back at him... he doesn't exist.

Innimellom danser de litt.
"Hør nå," sier hun, når refrenget i en gammel Bob Marley-låt nærmer seg.
Og Doppler hører.
If you are a big, big tree, synges det.
We are a small axe
Ready to cut you down
To cut you down
Maj Britt gestikulerer rytmisk underveis,
"if you are a big, big tree," synger hun, og peker på Doppler med den ene bambusstaven på you.
"We are a small axe," fortsetter hun, og peker inn mot seg selv med begge hender på we.
"Ready to cut you down," synger hun, og gjentar:
"To cut you down," og begge gangene denne siste linjen synges, mimer hun huggebevegelser på cut, og på down.
Når sanger er over, halter Maj Britt over til anlegget og får den til å begynne på nytt, og Doppler lar seg rive med. De synger og mimer begge to, under første refreng peker de på hverandre på you, men senere stiller de seg ved siden av hverandre og peker mot en usynlig tredjepart, mot alle svinene der ute som tror de har det så klart. Det er Maj Britt og Doppler mot resten av verden; hvis du tror du er så jævlig konge, og kan herse med andre mennesker eller med naturen, så kommer Maj Britt og Doppler og hugger deg ned, og hugger deg ned.

What about little microphones? What if everyone swallowed them, and they played the sounds of our hearts through little speakers, which could be in the pouches of our overalls? When you skateboarded down the street at night you could hear everyone's heartbeat, and they could hear yours, sort of like a sonar. One weird thing is, I wonder if everyone's heartbeat would start to beat at the same time, like how women who live together have their menstrual periods at the same time, which I know about, but don't really want to know about. That would be so weird, except that the place in the hospital where babies are born would sound like a chrystal chandelier in a houseboat, because the babies wouldn't have had time to match up their heartbeats yet. And at the finish line at the end of the New York City Marathon it would sound like war.

He had fallen in love with Hugo Alexander Timothy Cartwright the moment he laid eyes on him, when, as one of a string of five new arrivals, the boy had trickled into evening hall the first night of Adrian's second year.
Heydon-Bayley had nudged him.
"What do you reckon, Healey? Lush, or what?"
For once Adrian had remained silent. Something was terribly wrong.
It had taken him two painful terms to identify the symptoms. He looked them up in all the major textbooks. There was no doubt about it. All the authorities concurred: Shakespeare, Tennyson, Ovid, Keats, Georgette Heyer, Milton, they were of one opinion. It was love. The Big One.
Cartwright of the sapphire eyes and golden hair, Cartwright of the Limbs and Lips: he was Petrach's Laura, Milton's Lycidas, Catullu's Lesbia, Tennyson's Hallam, Shakespeare's fair boy and dark lady, the moon's Endymion. He was Garbo's salary, the national gallery, he was cellophane: he was the tender trap, the blank, unholy surprise of it all and the bright golden haze on the meadow: he was honey-honey, sugar-sugar, chirpy chirpy cheep-cheep and his baby-love: the voice of the turtle could be heard in the land, there were angels dining at the Ritz and a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
Adrian had managed to coax Cartwright into an amusing half-hour in the House lavs two terms previously, be he had never doubted he could get the trousers down: that wasn't it. He wanted something more from him than the few spasms of pleasure that the limited activities of rubbing and licking and heaving and pushing could offer.
He wasn't sure what the thing was that he yearned for, but one thing he did know. It was less acceptable to love, to ache for eternal companionship, than it was to bounce and slurp and gasp behind the fives courts. Love was Adrian's guilty secret, sex his public pride.

Det tok
tre dunk
å stave navnet
ditt i hjertet,

But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain

En tanke begynte så smått å dannes hos Erik. To dager senere da han la seg for å sove, og irriterte seg over lysene fra stereoanlegget som ikke slo seg av med mindre man trakk ut kontakten, noe man ikke kunne gjøre uten å stille klokken på nytt, skjønte han hva han måtte gjøre. Det var på tide å reise fra Oslo.

i miss you more than just a boy missing a girl, i miss you as a storm without wind, only rain, quiet rain

han kommer til Norge i september

Falling feels like flying
until you hit the ground.