The vinyl sideboard!

It was a Saturday night. I sat in my couch and stared at my little dwelling and realized, shit, it’s time to reorganize my space. So I reorganized my room, and realized that my 2x4 Expedit shelf didn’t fit anymore. And because I’m a reasonable person, I gave the shelf away instead of just adapting my interior design to make it fit again. Ahem. So, when Sunday afternoon rolled by, I stood there, without storage for a cubic meter of books, papers and stuff.

So what does one do when suddenly giving away furniture I need to replace with a short notice? The buy-and-sell site Blocket of course! After some scrambling around ads that were way too expensive or too far away, I found one a fancy 70’s or 80’s version of a vinyl player sideboard, in that perfect glossy-ish 40 year old finish. It was a mere 30 minutes away. J and I was going on a roadtrip for the day and it was even on the way home! Done!

We strode into the countryside, to new parts of the land that none of us had visited before, and finally reached a coast side collection of cabins and year round houses. A nice man came out on the porch and we stared at the sideboard for 10 seconds before deciding that yes, let’s do this. 20 euros was swished and the sideboard was tucked into the car and within mere minutes of arriving, we were on our way home again.

When we carried the beast up the stairs and into my little apartment, it looked waaayyy too big, but then I dragged it into place and it fit perfectly!

Decorated and done!

Behind the door are the ugly things

My dream sideboard (1940's version with seductive sweeping corners and a more delicate form language) didn't have a drawer and no vinyl-holders which I today find great use in, holding floppy notebooks upright so I don't get them all bent and annoying when it's time to use them. And that edge on the top surface is great for things NOT slipping off and falling to the floor. 

I love it.

This thing with liquid lipsticks

Läppgrejs, ett evigt gissel? En midsommarafton för cirka 19 år sen tittade min mamma på mig och sa att jag nog hade potential att klä i hennes röda läppstift. Hon målade försiktigt på det och sa att jag var en av dom där som har en fylligare överläpp än underläpp. Jag blev tonårssur över min skeva mun. 17 år efter det hade underläppen fortfarande inte växt till sig, och alla läppgunkor jag försökte använda spred sig alltid utanför linjerna om jag var lite obetänksam på hur jag såg ut vilket jag alltid var (och är). Och i likhet med min underläpps envisa upprätthållande av underläget inför överläppen, så vinner den underhållsfria friheten framför att behöva tänka på hur jag ser ut. I kampen om att vara underhållstungt snygg och underhållsfritt mindre snygg, så vinner underhållsfritt varje gång, förutom kanske på nyårsafton. Kontentan var att jag liksom försökte köpa läppgrejs av olika sorter för nästa sort kanske skulle fungera, men det slutade alltid med att samma problem uppstod och att jag inte orkade hålla på.

Smink en aldrig använde anno 2014.

LIQUID TO MATTE LIPSTICKS

Men så gjorde en viss typ av läppgunk entré i mitt liv - sorten som kallas liquid to matte. Det kan tolkas som ett läppglans (rys) vid första anblick, men är lenare i konsistensen och torkar sedan ner helt matt, och det bästa av allt - det finns ingenting som kan flytta på sig! Lät ju som en dröm, och det var det!

Nåväl för att man måste hålla lite koll på hur de ser ut ändå (kan smula, gunka sig på innerkanten av läppen, nötas bort lite ojämnt) men det är en skvätt i havet jämfört med vanliga läppstift. Hittar man dessutom sin guldsort så är de i stort sett underhållsfria. Sen jag inhandlade min första Velvetine av Lime Crime så har mycket hänt, i stort sett alla märken har liquid to matte läppstift. Velvetines och Kat von D's Everlasting Love Liquid Lipsticks är två av de högst rankade, och hade det inte varit så jävla svårt att få tag på Kat von D (MVH orkar inte åka till sthlm för att komma till ett urplockat Sephora) så hade jag haft flera såna för dom två jag har är awesome.  Och ahem, kommer säkerligen köpa fler Velvetines också för jag är en amoralisk jävel. Ni vet. Ibland. De däringa Makeup Monster med grön kork vill jag ha fler av också men har inte kommit mig för då man måste beställa från utomlandet.

När de olika sorterna recenseras på ett gäng olika youtubeskönhetskonton så testas alltid läppstiftens förmåga att sitta kvar vid intagandet av lunch - men jag kan säga att inget läppstift någonsin har överlevt en måltid på mig. Jag får torka av det när jag börjat äta och sen på med ett nytt lager efteråt oavsett.

Rad 1: Makeup Monster - Birthday Suit, Lime Crime - Marshmallow, Lime Crime - Bleached, Kat von D - Bow n Arrow, Lime Crime - Buffy, Makeup Monster - Terracotta. Rad 2: Lime Crime - Teddy Bear, Lime Crime - Riot, Kat von D - Lolita 2, Lime Crime - Pumpkin, Kat von D - Plath.

Rad 1: Kat von D -  Santa Sangre, Lime Crime - Suedeberry, The Balm - Honest, Lime Crime - Squash, Anastasia Beverly Hills - Dolce, Kat von D - Lovesick. Rad 2: The Balm - Chivalrous, Kat von D - L. U. V., Kat von D - Roxy, Lime Crime - Raven, Kat von D - Echo.

Poängen när jag målade på allihopa på min stackars arm igår kväll var att rensa ut färger som jag inte behövde eller såna som var så pass lika varandra, men resultatet blev att jag behåller allihopa! Birthday Suit ser ut som ett vitt klistermärke i ansiktet på mig men jag kan ljusa upp andra färger genom att blanda med den så den får stanna. De mörka/skrikiga färgerna vill jag ha pga kul. Och genom läppgrejsinköpandet så har jag insett att nästan alla färger tydligen drar mycket mer åt rött och blir mer färgglada i mitt rosiga NC15-ansikte än många andra som man ser ute på internet, så jag lär testa mig fram. En mjuk korall på en annan blir klarröd på mig, och Lolita som blir dämpat rosig på andra blir klassisk röd. Jag kämpar på för att hitta lagom mjuka färger, så att säga.

Kat von D Everlasting Love Liquid Lipstick - Lolita II. 

Jag har kommit fram till att jag inte klär så väl i glada färger, men Lime Crimes Squash är fortfarande min favorit.

Lime Crime - Riot.

Jag har 22 stycken, så jag tror att jag ska göra en poäng av att använda dem under den kommande månaden. Ni vet, bara för att. Och kanske för att kunna avgöra ifall att det är någon av dom som i jag i dagsläget glömt att jag inte gillar. Har ni någon erfarenhet? Märken som inte jag har? Tips?

I listened to the pod "My dad wrote a porno"

Bildkälla: http://www.mydadwroteaporno.com

… and it’s epic.

Sure, I realize I’m about 18 months late to the party that started off like a little gathering with three friends and snowballed into a culture phenomenon, all thanks to a 60 year old man’s inability to write anything sensual all the while not letting that inability stop him from writing four, yes, four, books. The greatness of course resides in that his son Jamie, that was dealt the manuscripts because Rocky Flintstone, the name that his dad goes under as an author, and decided that this isn’t staying within the family. Shortly after that, he started a podcast with two of his most charismatic friends, and blessed the world with their magic!

I hesitated for a long time because you know, my inner secondary-shame nerve is so strong that I can’t take part in awkward humor without cringing off of my seat, but finally I got too curious and had to try it. 15 minutes into the first episode, I was hooked. I’m not gonna lie, there’s a LOT of cringing, face scrunching, laughing out loud, yelling “No!” while listening to this pod, and looking like a madman if I ever dare to go out in public with this in my ears.

Of course, there’s a certain kind of language that comes with the “erotic” territory which makes it maybe not that work friendly (unless you work in a tattoo shop that is) but the nature of the vernacular is eased up by all the other discomfort you will experience with the both the unreasonable storyline and the soothing agreements from James and Alice.

I’m on episode 12 of season 2, and it’s still equally funny.

My dad wrote a porno – Five out of five shame pillows. DO IT.

Kat von D Tattoo Liner

You know what it’s like. You’re sitting around at home, listening to some music, get into the groove. Putting on some eyeliner and all of a sudden, well well, maybe a little WINGED LINER PERHAPS?! Said and done, five minutes later you’re sporting the most awesome wings and proudly look at yourself in the mirror. Wink at yourself in the mirror. Then you put on clothes and go out. A gush of wind throws itself over you, a cold one at that, and you tear up a little. Oh well. It’s fine.

You get to the place you were going. Say hello to everyone, and they say hello back. You get a glass of water and catch yourself in the mirror. Oh. So the people that stared at you on your way here didn’t stare because you’re a feisty beauty but because they were busy trying to figure out if they have seriously Freudian relationships to their parents by analyzing your ex-eyeliner, having transformed into a veritable Rorschach test.

BUT! One day, this makeup lover walked into a Sephora in the capitol and had psyched myself up to pick up the Kat von D eyeliner that all of the internet is going on about. I bought a mini version of it and got BLOWN AWAY (much like my earlier eyeliner) by the fact that it held through everything on my skin. Summer sweat? Still there. Work? Still there. The oiliest days of them all so all the other makeup is gone? Still there. Rain storms? Still there. Slept for a couple of hours? Still there. A proper tumble in the sack? Well, the wings didn’t make it. But it’s my companion, from 8 am til 03 am, we hang out together.

It has a brush tip and it’s fine so it’s easy to make wings or details. The downside is that it can be a little dry and if I’m slow, I have to work it a little on my hand to get the colour flowing again, and of course, the price. It's not cheap but it's golden.

12 timmar and counting on oily skin

Interior update!

Jag vet jag vet! Alla har väntat så fantastiskt länge på att jag ska kasta upp bilderna på mitt fantastiska shagpad, men nu kan ni lugna er, dagen har kommit! Alltså, jag fick feeling och städade min lilla lya ett par veckor efter min plötsliga ommöblering. Det var fint i ungefär en dag, sen kom virvelvinden Ellet och gjorde som vanligt. Så det här ett litet ögonblick av min lägenhets existens. Let’s do it!

Ja, vad är det här? Biblioteket kanske!

Jamen ungefär sådär. Hallen och badrummet orkar jag inte visa pga blaha och supertrist med beigerosa plastmatta på väggarna. Men ska jag vara helt ärlig så är jag nog gladare i hur det blev än vad jag trodde när jag flyttade in. Nu får vi se hur länge den här konstellationen av möbler håller innan jag får ryck igen.

The demons come at night

During the day the sun shines. I laugh a lot at work, with my colleagues and their oddities. Fart around the afternoons, hang out with friends, chat with my gurl squad, study during the nights. Then the darkness lowers itself over the city, the sky turning dark blue. A halo of lighter blue enhances the contours of the city and reminds me of the coming light season, the one where the flowers start to grow and the new little leaves carry the shade of yellowy green.

I got to bed. I dream. I dream about everything that has happened. I dream about being a teenager again and that both of my parents are alive and still married, how I try and make them find each other again. I dream about old loves, the ones that I can’t miss because they were never mine. I dream about my ex-husband and his new and the child they’re expecting together. I dream about the house, how I’ve been torn from there and have to collect the remainder of my things.

I dream about how I’m talking to J about how we’re gonna settle mom’s old house now that she’s dead. I dream that I have to tell mom that rummages around in the kitchen, that she’s dead. I dream that I get anxiety over having to have that conversation with her, to tell her that she’s no longer alive and that we need to give away all her things. I dream of her being in the hospital and that she knows she’s going to die. I dream about her waking up and realizing that she’s still alive and still has death in front of her, crying in sorrow. I dream about my divorce. How I lost my job and security at the same time. About how I need to face old ghosts. I dream about soon being without somewhere to live and have nowhere to go.

Night after night.

Then my sleep is disrupted by the sharp light of morning. I get up, ruffled feathers from the night. Try to drench the memories with a bath tub of coffee.

I know sorrow comes in waves, and I know the waves are shallower and more regular nowadays. More like the seasons storms than sudden tsunamis. And I know that in the long run, I have to handle the grief of everything, no matter how I chose to do it. But I still can’t help but long for calmer nights, stillness in my dreams. The boring but safe routines of everyday life. Not having to face my demons every night.

This too, shall pass.

Grocery store dementia

Sometimes it’s nice to have someone that is just as bad as you are for company. Other times, it’s nice to have a friend that meet your weaknesses and make you stronger. The latter would have been preferred in the context of this post, because when my ex-roomie and I pass the little paddle gateways to grocery stores, something happens. I mean, we have both managed to survive thus far so I know we HAVE the ability somewhere, it just disappears when we’re together.

It’s like the cover falls down over the bird cage. The Homer Simpson brain monkeys start slamming their cymbals together. The Finding Nemo-seagulls stare mindlessly at things and yell “MINE!” when they see tasty things and put them in the shopping baskets. If we managed to grab any baskets, that is. Because most often we make it through half the store before even realizing we haven’t grabbed any baskets, or any food stuffs that we were supposed to collect. We’ve just been talking, looking at things.

When we’ve tried to focus on not talking as much, AND brought a list of things, even then things have gone to shits. Once, we even reached the register without having picked up ANYTHING. We had to walk all the way back and start over.

Like yesterday. We were getting sour cream. Sounds easy right? We were stood right in front of the shelf with sour cream. Looked at it. But from standing right in front of sour cream, to saying “Hey, over there is lactose free sour cream”, and making our way the ten feet over to the shelf with the lactose free sour cream, we’d forgotten all about the sour cream and my friend picked up a liter of milk instead. I looked on. Satisfied, we left.

So, now I sit here at home, without sour cream. And without milk. Because when I looked at my friend picking up milk, I didn’t register that milk was on my list too.

That little fact, I managed to forget.