I recently watched a documentary on plastic surgery among the hopeful wannabes in Los Angeles, because there’s nothing like the madness of others to make you feel good about your own life.

I doubt that I’m in any danger of ever feeling the urge to live in La-La Land, but I still had to do some philosophising on the issue, cause I’m… well… me. And I can never resist a little good old-fashioned philosophising. You know that by now if you’ve been paying attention.

LA is probably the worlds biggest chop shop. Only it’s got a twist. In stead of the cars going out with all new parts, their drivers do. A great, big masquerade where the masks don’t even come off at midnight. It’s got to be strange living in a city where you have no idea what anyone really looks like.

Just imagine: Miss Perfect Barbie meets Mr Buff Hunk. They fall in love, have their fairy-tale wedding. Nine months later, everyone’s shocked when Princess Plastic starts popping out babies who look like a cross between Bert and Ernie.

I doubt that I’m in any danger of feeling the urge to move to the city of angels, but if I did, I suspect I’d be to creeped out to ever date anyone ever again. My love life would be deader (if that's a word) than it ever was back in Little Hellhole. And I actually declared it dead and buried it there. Tombstone and all.

Buttmunching

Today I am completely exhausted, and I'm not quite sure why. I could probably figure it out if I gave it some thought, but I'm too damn tired. Still, I did read something in the news the other day that I thought I might share with you all, knowing that you enjoy twisted things almost as much as I do.

There is a man in Sweden who has eaten parts of his ass on tv.

That's right. I did not make this up. Just to make sure that you're all paying attention, I'll repeat it.

There is a man in Sweden who has eaten parts of his ass on tv.

Another man cut of two small slices, which the swede ate and concluded that they tasted exactly like sellery. Later a spokesperson for a religious community went out into the media and said that he finds the whole stunt tasteless and that he sincerely hopes that it won't become a trend among the young.

Imagine that... Just when the cops were getting good at stopping underaged drinking.

Things I’ll do once I die

When I become a ghost, which is definitely on my list of things to do (towards the bottom, right between dieing and watching Elvis eat a peanutbutter sandwich), I’m not going to be like one of those idiot spirits on TV-shows like “The ghost whisperer”.

Say that I want to find a man named Elmer. I wouldn’t go around leaving dumbass messages such as “search for the man with the tiny nostrils” or “find the bloke with the missing pinkie.” No. I would get myself a permanent magic marker (I figure that when you’re a ghost, you can just walk, or float or whatever it is that ghosts do, into a store and nick one) and write the fellow’s full name and address on the wall of whoever was lucky enough to be haunted by me. Not only that, I would also include telephone numbers, because unlike all the moronic phantoms on TV, I would have the intelligence to look him up in the phone book. Honestly, if you can make lightbulbs explode and things move by themselves, you can open up a damn phonebook. If possible, I would also draw a tidy little map of how to get to Elmer’s house.

Another thing you won’t see me doing when I become a ghost, is floating around hallways and such at night, looking depressed. I’m going to enjoy myself, I am. If I get hungry – although I’m not sure what a spectres metabolism might be like – I’ll just swoosh on down to the nearest supermarket and pick out whatever I want. I also figure that ghosts can eat whatever they want to, without gaining any weight at all. If I feel like reading something, I’ll go to the bookstore and get it. All in all, the possibilities are endless. These activities would probably have to take place at night, though. After all, I wouldn’t want anyone to get too freaked out and decide to exorcise me. That would be very unpractical. Besides, the idea of someone showing a cross into my face and shouting stuff like “I expel thee,” gives me the creeps (the first time I saw that movie, I was sure he said "propell" rather than "expel". Made for an interesting scene).

I’d also like to find myself a nice mansion or a castle to haunt. Something with lots of room for me to hover, drift and glide to my hearts content. Perhaps something by the seaside.

I won’t be the most law-abiding poltergeist around, but I’m sure that if I continue to be a good girl in life, my conscience won’t be too bothered with it. Besides, it’s not as if they can arrest me, now is it?

Ghostpic by Merlinprincess for www.Flickr.com

Castlepic by SteuveFE for www.Flickr.com

Childhood, briefcases and the big bucks

When I was a kid, I decided that I wanted to be a lawyer. Basically, the reason for this was that I’d been watching LA Law, and I wanted to wear a powersuit and carry a briefcase. That was pretty much it. Still, the idea stuck in my head until I had to start thinking about which college I wanted to apply to. It wasn’t until then that I started asking myself why I wanted to study law. Eventually I came to the conclusion that the outfit and the briefcase weren’t all that important to me, after all. And so, law was out.

Another thing that I was even more obsessed with as a child, was the thought of having a big income. And by big, I mean huge. And by huge, I mean gigantic. And by… Well, you get the picture. My parents used to say that I could probably chew my way straight through the walls of the National Bank. Sometimes I dreamt that I actually did.

I figured that in order to be like the people on LA Law and make really big money, you’d have to be an overachiever. The only problem was that I had very mediocre work ethics. I still do. I’m lazy at heart. But I’m okay with that. It’s not necessarily a good thing to overachieve. Look at Napoleon, for instance. He did really well at first, but in the end – not so happy.

So the fact that I’m sitting here, writing this, in stead of solving various math problems, like I ought to be doing, doesn’t really bother me all that much.