Crap and happiness

TV is a device that helps people who can't entertain themselves to look at other disabled people.

You get entertained by people in your bedroom that you would never invite into your home.

There you are with your nice little family, sitting in front of the flat screen altar that you bought on sale last summer, drinking coffee and eating homebaked cakes, watching complete strangers having a booze party, complaining over the lack of taste in displaying such abhorrent pictures just when you want to relax.

You complain about the colour of the tie that the TV host's wearing. While your bum's getting bigger and bigger and your head smaller and smaller.

Doubble moral is better than no moral.

Are you happy, by the way?

Posted by Asta2143


Straight from the heart

Sitting here listening to one of my favorite albums while reading Miss Moccas blog. She reflects over a lot of things that's been happening to her during her life. I like reading Miss Moccas blog, because what she writes comes from her heart. She's being very honest. And that's cool. Not many people dares to write straight from their heart, including myself.

When we're small children we're being honest and pretty much speak our minds. But the older we get, the more we are being taught to keep a low profile. By parents and by teachers. It's not comme il faut to be honest. We learn to get around the truth and wrap our words into nice gifts with sweet words. Why?

We're supposed to fit into the norms that society decided are right. It's okay to have a personality, as long as it doesn't differ too much from societys personality norms.

Miss Mocca has ADHD. Lots of people have that. - It disqualified her from school and education. Because tolerance is pretty low for people with DAMP or ADHD. They're considered to be trouble makers.

In my mind, Miss Mocca is not a trouble maker. She never was. She is a warm hearted girl. She doesn't create problems. Problems simply find their way to her. And landing in her knee, they simply develope, because she has low patience.

Mr. Asta and I spent hundreds of hours with teachers, doctors, psyciatrists and other "professionals" over the years. Little did it help. Because their philosophy was always some sort of blame game. I could play that game too. But why would I? Miss Mocca is a perfectly normal girl with concentration problems. Lot's of people suffers from that. Lots of people who was never diagnosed as ADHD or DAMP. It's not a sickness. It's a temporary state of mind.

People with ADHD or DAMP are not un-intellegent. On the contrary. Miss Mocca never managed school, but she taught herself to read and write in 3 different languages. She learns by watching movies or TV programmes. She listens to music. She communicates with people. And she has a public blog, where she is being very honest about what's good and what's bad in her life. None of that is new to me. I am not in for a big surprise, because there's always been honesty between me and Miss Mocca. And I am not a complete fool. I have a good ability to figure out things. I know Miss Mocca is not a saint.

I'm very proud of her. It takes a lot of strength to share inner thoughts and mistakes with others. And to overcome the burden of societys weird and bungled norms.


The Meat Eaters Club Celebration

Yesterday was made for celebration. We welcomed back Miss Winty into the Meat Eaters Club. - She quit her membership of the club 2 1/2 years ago and joined some ridicolous club of grass eaters. - She hasn't been smiling ever since.

But now she's back - with a BIG smile. - And Freddie is smiling and clapping his hands. Poor man's been suffering all this time, trying to pretend he actually likes soya beans and - even worse - soya sausages. You might as well stick your tung out of the window in Bombay!, because that's what it tastes like.

A 6 feet 88 rocker must have meat!

Mr. Asta keeps complaining over the bumps I give him in my blogs. I don't know what he's babbling about. - I have the right to tell the truth from my point of view. Since I am the blogger, that's my legal right! If he doesn't like what I write, he can write his own blog and see if he can get anoyne to actually believe him. However, I doubt that very much!

Just to challenge him, I've created him a blog: Mr. Asta Talks Back (http://mrastatalksback.blogspot.com). Yeah - let's see if he can fix the challenge-:)
Because I'm in such a good mood (due to Wintys re-newing of her membership) I might as well give you some other pictures from last nights celebration.

- I do anything for Miss Winty - even cook!

Posted by Asta2143


Orange anonymity

Once a year I do a complete make-over of myself. Usually right before christmas. Since last christmas my hair has been very dark, but now I decided to use a brownish red colour instead. To get started I removed the almost black colour yesterday. Which means I blonded the hair. When done I realized that I bought the wrong new colour. It's too dark.

So today I had to get down to the supermarket where they sell this stuff and get a better colour.

And my hair is orange, you know!?! Yeah, it looks nice. I look nice. Except on the top of the skalp, where it's actually white. I had to wear a hat. I never wear hats.

- And a lot of make-up, lipstick, painted eyebrows, I mean pure party look. Just hoping I wouldn't meet anyone I know. I did my outmost to hide behind the shelves.

But of course I met people I know. At least 25 persons from work to start with! "Hey Asta. Nice hair colour". Grrrrrrr!!!!! - Just when I really needed to be an Anonymous! And that silly hat. I don't know how they were able to recognize me, cause I was also wearing riding boots and old jacket and jeans. I never wear that sort of clothes in my hometown....... - I don't get it.......?!?

Perhaps my size? Because I am - I guarantee you - the smallest adult in the whole town.

I'm gonna get this fixed today before exposing myself any further. - Or perhaps just add a little carot to the skalp and enter 2009 as an orange...........



After 21 years Mr Asta and I kinda know each others weak sides, and surely Mr Asta knows exactly which buttons to push if he needs a nice little argument with me. Usually we never fight, because most of the time I pretend I don't hear that he pulled the trigger.

Thursday morning was one of these mornings where I heard it, and it was much too early in the day to just pull a spell on him and move on.

We were supposed to leave at 4.45 - Mr Asta was to drive me to my Kick-Off transportation. But at 4.45 he was still in the bathroom - not at all ready to leave. I reminded him on our agreement, and his response was like "Why are you fuzzing over this - they'll wait for you".

- So I got annoyed (translation: pissed off). This is not what I want to hear that early in the morning, so - yes - I shouted at him. When we finally got into his car - I say his because the older men gets the more sophisticated toys they need, and right now he desperately needs a BMW 320 turbo - What happens? I managed to spill coffee all over myself.

When we arrived my meeting spot I was so angry, that I just rushed out of the car and slammed the door without saying goodbye or stick it up yours. I decided never to speak to him again, and that this was the final drop.

Late Thursday evening Mr Asta phoned me asking if I was still upset with him. At that time I'd almost forgotten the dispute, so we made friends again. Which was more mature of us than screaming garbage in each others ears.

Come to think of it, it would have been rather difficult to explain to Miss Winty and Miss Mocca that I filed for a divorce because of a spilled cup of coffee.

"Consideration and little care means so much"
A. A. Milne, Author