Saturday, August 27, 2005

If I can't be a star I won't get out of bed

Having been to the Malmö Festival yesterday, I spent most of today in bed, which was quite nice especially because, while I was waiting for my night bus, I had the foresight to buy peanut-M&M's and thus, I could lie around in bed till around 3PM and then eat chocolate for breakfast.
It was also a pretty good trip to Malmö. In general, you have to love Sweden; unlike Denmark, they actually possess the ability to produce good bands, Peking duck is called "Peking anka" which is way funny and the Swedish guys (possibly girls too, if you're into that sort of thing) are just so much better looking than Danish ones.
You also have to love the fact that the Malmö Festival is free, but still manages to pull in rather decent bands. It's a week-long event, but we just went there yesterday to see Håkan Hellström which is always a pleasure. It wasn't the most energetic Håkan-show I've seen, but then again that doesn't really say much as he always runs around on stage like he's being chased by angry villagers.
His trademark is obviously his very off-key way of singing which also gave name to his latest album Et Kolikbarns Bekännelser (that's The Confessions of a Colicky Child to the foreigners who miraculously make it in here), but no-one sings off-key quite like Håkan, it's one of the things that make him so cute (I said cute! Gross...). However, yesterday's gig was a different matter; like I said, Håkan is cute (again!), but never really dirrty. Until last night, that is. He moaned his way through Mitt Gullbergs kaj paradis so we couldn't look at the stage - the friend with whom I was going was blushing wildly and I could just stand there staring at my own feet. Naughty, but nice, indeed.
Later on, there was The Ark, which was O.K. as well. I'm not really a fan, but their hits are catchy and, in general, how can you not love a guy in hotpants and angel wings?
And just before we went home, we saw a bit of The Raveonettes' show. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't anything special either - very much the way it generally is with Sune Wagner these days, sadly. I used to have the biggest crush on him when he was in Psyched Up Janis, but now he's gone a bit chubby and his hair is just getting worse and worse. He's really morphing into Robert Smith which is pretty scary.

Between the Håkan and Ark-shows, we went for dinner at an Italian restaurant, which was really strange. The place was sort of split up in very normal restaurant and then a bar with red, slightly worn-down velvet-sofas, golden bar stools, red wall-lamps and a black grand piano, where a bald Italian in a pinstripe suit stood, singing Rat Pack-songs accompanied by a guy who looked sort of like Billy Ray Cyrus in Mulholland Drive. And people were dancing the way old people who never really learned the steps dance. You know; close, but not indecently so, stepping a bit back and forward while moving slowly around in a circle. It really was a bit like being in a parallel universe - I don't think that I've ever seen that sort of stuff outside mafia-movies!

By the way, at his gig, Håkan Hellström was wearing cherry red, 1o eyelet Dr Martens, which got me thinking: Do you think that Docs are ripe for a comeback?
I've had a pair since I was 12 (not the same pair, obviously), but the ones I have right now, I hardly ever wear. Mostly because I'm not very happy with them; they're not uncomfortable or anything, but I bought them while I was still a vegan, which meant I had a bit of a limited selection a the time. The only Doc-model made in I-don't-wear-leather-leather are the 8 eyelet ones and I always preferred at least 10. Also, the faux-leather isn't as shiny as the real thing.
Anyway, bearing in mind the fabulous weather for this year's Roskilde Festival, it's very likely that it'll rain and rain next year, making Docs the perfect footwear. I'm thinking 14 eyelet cherry reds?

Friday, August 26, 2005

You'll never get to Heaven if you're scared of getting high

When I at one point will be able to scrape together the money for an iPod, I am totally getting this thing. I mean, Kate Spade-iPod-case... in red... that is nice!

Sunday, August 21, 2005

It's loud and tasteless and I've heard it before

Pretty much everyone has one band or artist that will make them bury their finger nails so hard in their palms that they are close to bleeding. It's not the same as being annoyed with just one song, like, I dunno, Fuck Dig by Anna David, you genuinely have to be annoyed with everything these people see fit to pester radio playlists with and everything they wear, do or say.
I feel that way about the Black Eyed Peas and especially that Fergie girl - this should give some idea as to why. I mean, there must be hookers out there with more class in their acrylic pinky nail than this girl has in her entire body; making fashion mistakes is one thing, but this girl has never worn a decent outfit in her life. I'd be inclined to disregard that, though; style is something you buy, class is something you have and some people just buy crappy styles, what can you do? But being so drunk that you piss yourself on stage? That is classless if I ever saw it.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Brothers and sisters, I don't know what this world is coming to!

Something more scary than the spider outside my window does exist, though. Go here.
I mean, what is that? It's not a joke, though it easily could be, but it's really f***ing awful! She's trying very hard to come off really bad, but seriously, how much of a bad girl are you if licking a bottleneck is your definition of pervy?
I'm also pretty miffed about the way her makeup "artist" completely lifted Christina's Lady Marmalade makeup concept. I don't usually pay much attention to makeup unless it's bad, but I remember really liking Christina's makeup in that video. It was way over the top, but very well done (especially the lipstick) and then this pouty, Danish skank just comes along and copies it... badly! Depressing.

An Ohwellian Nightmare

Having done little else than shouting at girls from their rickshaws and drinking pints in the "authentic" English pubs here, the ugly, English football fans (bit of a pleonasm, "ugly football fans". Is there any other kind?) have left Copenhagen, probably feeling slightly disappointed. I got the "You can be damned sure that everyone on a bike is a local" in passing from one of them. So strange, I'll never get used to tourists being utterly bemused at the amount of bicycles in Denmark. Once, as I was getting off my bike at Rådhuspladsen, an American guy smiled at me and said "You do very well, riding a bike in a dress". What does that mean? Is it a compliment? Did he just see my underwear? What? To me, that's a bit like saying that "you're doing very well, eating soup with a spoon" - what else would you do, really? Strange...
I had another nice Copenhagen-moment when I went to Tivoli with a friend this Monday. The whole concept should be tacky, but there's something about the lights in there at night and about seeing your city from the Balloon Ferris Wheel that is just so beautiful, you have to love it.

Not quite so beautiful, is the revolting spider which right now lounging on the outer pane of my bedroom window. I don't think I've ever seen a spider that huge outside a zoo. It's the size of the outer joint of my thumb, without legs that is, has nasty stripes and is obviously total devil spawn as right now, it has a ladybird in its web. Not only do every girl know that ladybirds are the cute bugs, I also seem to recall from a biology lesson where I accidentally paid attention that they taste hellavile and the whole red-black thing is a warning about this. So, this is a huge spider, who'll eat just about anything. Evil, I tell you. Evil.
And it's not like I can't usually manage. I can take care of myself, I can use a hammer without sustaining any injuries, I can even open my own pickle jars and I can usually kill the bugs that make it inside the walls of my home. But that spider is pure evil. I need a man.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005


I'm just in the middle of ripping all my CD's to my computer and having been 13 in 1995, I have Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill. However, I had completely forgotten that, growing up close to the Danish-German border, my copy was bought in Flensburg and has an extra booklet in it with German translations of all the songs. I swear I would listen to that album a lot more if You Oughta Know was called Du solltest das wissen and contained the line "Würde sie über dich herfallen in einem Theater?" instead of "Would she go down on you in a theater?". Pure brilliance, I tell you!