What would a caveman do?

As an experienced daydreamer, I consume and produce lots of incredible day life events and questions that stick to my brain like a salamander in heat. There are times, though, where obvious knowledge doesn’t apply to where the act of ticking my box of obviousness doings does. I’ve been captured in cheeky situations, where my glorious brain sensations smear impulsive-dust over whatever triggered my confusion at that moment. Just like an unwary octopus defending itself with ink (= my brains impulsive dust) surprise-attacked by the spur-of-the-moment burst of a fish-fart-bubble. So when I was asked to cook Super Noodles the other week, a quick stream of previous noodle cooking moments got a good smear of impulsive-dust, and I intended to cook them just like Cup Noodles. In the act of doing so, a handsome man with a wooden spoon ran towards me with speed leaving dust like an Iron Man take-off. Apparently I was supposed to use this wooden spoon to stir the noodles in a bowl with hot water, until all water was out of sight. I didn’t consider the option of cooking them that way. Do I really have to start reading manuals? Sneaky manuals.

What about the things that doesn’t come with a manual though? My brain produced impulsive dust and I have agreed on one rule when it comes to situations like this. I call that rule WWACD. What would a caveman do? When I came up with this rule I knew that it had to be something simple and unwary of manuals. As fish seemed more complex with all their “air? Screw air, gills and water is the shit”, I decided on the cavemen. So when my air mattress came without a pump (who, okayed that idiotic idea) with an impulsive move, I picked up the first tool I had in mind. Blow dryer! A slight melted air hole and an aroma of burned rubber later, I had successfully pumped up my air mattress without a pump! Winning.

I turn to the WWACD technique every time I pick up those overly annoying Heinz Ketchup glass bottles of a restaurant table as well. The inventor of this legendary ketchup bottle must have thought; “Muhah, I will make the whole world an underhuman – and dumber by giving them this irresistible good looking non-squeezable bottle”! The amount of times I have witnessed poor ketchup famished guests being tortured under the power of Mr. Heinz’s glass bottle. This is what they do to the bottle: 1) stoke it like a furry cat. 2) Put the lit back on and turn it upside down while making a wish for the ketchup to slide out like a drunken vomit-supreme. 3) Start shaking it. 4) Now shaking it furiously 5) Flick the bottle in the air to look in the hole, no longer caring about ketchup inflations in eye. Well, they are not going to find the manual in there. Again, WWACD! – Tool! Find the nearest tool! Punish that bottle-condensed air with your knife while growling (this action has a better WWACD effect with just growls – no words). Now, ketchup is served. And for future references when confused about the need for a manual, just think;  what would a caveman do?

When I wrote “a handsome man with a wooden spoon ran towards me” I thought of this random clip. Please enjoy!

How to surprise yourself

I have had the pleasure of a with-born unfortunate quirky balanced and insufficient interaction of movement. My co-ordination is as unbelievable as a shark swimming backwards. I like to think of it as if you splattered your breath on a spoon and stuck it in-between a hammer-head sharks eyes in close distance. It totally wouldn’t see that coming as I just don’t see things coming. You would think it would be hard to get through the day after uncontrollable escapades of dropping stuff, slamming in to everything that moves against my groove – or in fact things that doesn’t move at all. Therefore, I have been acquainted with methods to make the small things in life rule a bigger part to erase some of the awful clumsy moments. Just like having a serious nowhere-going conversation and as a squirrel suddenly pops up, you both point and shout “Squirrel!!!” enthusiastically. = a fun mood change! The squirrels’ doesn’t even know how much their presence enlightens humans. My glorious methods for getting through a crummy day are to secretly surprise myself! (It’s the little moments in life that counts). I like to set my alarm an hour or two earlier than my actual planned awakening. I wake up with the alarm buzzing ready to yell horrible evil things to it (it is okay if you talk to your alarm like it is a person too), but then I notice I have another luxury hour to unconsciously sound like Darth Vader, while tugging in to duvet paradise. Works every time!

I like to keep my room above average messy as well, so when I take action in cleaning, I find random stuff I though I had lost. A winner is always my £2 headphones, and random post it notes I have punished my wall with. A recent “buy bearded lady beard” post-it made me happy. A good way to surprise yourself as well is to hide non-eatable stuff in your freezer. So when you have mouth-punched several Tesco’s value pizzas and Ben & Jerry’s you’ll be like surprised how happy you are to find whatever you have planted there, because it’s silly to find stuff in a freezer. A clever, but dangerous move to surprise yourself is to buy random stuff on Ebay when intoxicated, and three days later – anything could creek our from that hole in your door.

I had a private laugh attack the other day. Someone had put eyes on a mailbox, and my eye luckily caught it (like a hawk). I’m gonna start doing that. Stick eyes on random stuff. Hilarious. That made my day.

Annoying things people do on airplanes

I recently had the exquisite pleasure of travelling on an airplane, as I had to go back home for the festive Christmas season. I usually find this sort of transportation joyful, so I was expecting a hoot of a ride. Obviously – walking in my shoes, theres is a 89% chance that I would supposedly stumble in to something unexpected. This act of predicament happened before I even set foot the plane, and then again while flying. This triggered a sort of epiphany that reminded me of all the annoying  random things people do on this cloud stabbing machine. A sudden vicious frustration sizzled upon me as well, because im always the one winning the seat next to these randomers.

1) As my sight of infortunateness had predicted, I didn’t succeed in squeezing my suitcase down Ryan Air’s carry-on- restriction-size-cage. I was told to make it fit, or they would take off without me. (Little harsh, thinking it’s Christmas and all). I’m no wizard, but at that moment I could sure see the advantage of carrying a wand and a magic ‘resize’ spell. I simply couldn’t think of anything else than wearing all thick clothing I’d  packed, and finally after my suitcase plunged in the cage I was allowed on the plane. Two seconds after sitting down I obviously started sweating horridly as I was wearing what seemed like the fur of three bears. After take off, the kid next to me pukes everywhere. There I was. Cooking up in three sweaters slowly choking from the funky puke smell.

2) This is not the only time I’ve been exposed for annoying kids on airplanes. Another time, I placed my self at a nice window seat in front of an Indian family. Turns out, the Indian boy is handicapped! He was determined to furiously wiggle, no not wiggle, dislocate my seat while making weird snorting sounds until we landed. My seat twisted like a bunny orgie in their sexiest month ever. I looked back at the mother with my eyes begging “make him stop, unleash me from this nightmare”! She shook her shoulders and looked at her son like he was something sweet that should be sliding on a rainbow. I found this situation annoyingly random. I couldnt really burst out with anger because  it would look like I was rude to the handicapped Indian boy.

3) Getting stuck in a row with an overly obese person is something I can cross off my list as well. This man looked so uncomfortable and tense that me made me all nervous. He ended up looking as anxious as the next lobster in the aquarium to get eaten, that I, in my state of fear was considering just to yell “Kill it before it lays eggs”!, and sit in the toilet for the rest of the flight.

4) Theres always like five people with no sense of peeing structure on airplanes as well. These people never sit in the same row, oh no. So all the sleeping you were planning on doing is more like snoozing because you have to wake up every time they feel like a tinkle.

5) Then there are the people complaining that they can’t hear the pilot (I don’t think anyone can, really), so they choose to express their confusion like oral diarrhea, which leaves the rest of the passengers even more confused.

6) At last there’s the randomly annoying people who wasnt lucky enough to get a window seat, then scooches over and awkwardly presses against you to get a little piece of the action.

I do hope my next flight doesn’t include any of these above. Silly random passengers.

Winning the Poo moments.

Luck-quality is a bubble wrap that protects you when you are struck down by a glimpse of uncertainty. My bubble wrap unfortunately decided to scoot off somewhere in-between not being the proper age in 1997 for having everly MMMBop hunk Taylor Hanson as my imaginary boyfriend, and being chosen to make a convincing performance as a dog in a sheep costume. Being in the wrong place at the right time is a natural force of the life of me. The glorious happening of stepping in dog poop is a popular accidental moment, and I have had the pleasure of doing so, many times. I once stepped in a dog poop that could have been produced by something highly likely to tour the world with this big ass sized act. The outcome of this creature was so big that my foot didn’t even make its way through the flob of poop. Instead I ended up sliding through what seemed like a festival toilet on day three, somehow bending my legs and knees in my personally voted most awkward position ever. My idiotic attempt to do a lady like after-tripping-walk-of-shame didn’t succeed very well either. My stepping- in- poo- meter has an uncontrollable high frequency. After a very eventful walk on the monkey trail in a Danish zoo my family and I decided to drive through the lion park. As we drove through the gate and accessed the park, a funky smell appeared in the car, and it turned out that my unluckiness had shined upon me once again. I had stepped in monkey poo while happily walking on the monkey trail. Of course. The zoo had one rule for driving in the lion park. Do not open the windows. I wasn’t picked for family member of the week that week.

I have become surprisingly talented in handling moments like these, just as a private heroic move to escape the embarrassment.

Banana – where did you come from?

“Remember who you are. You are my son and the one true king. Remember…” – yep that’s right. Only a quote from Lion King is appropriate for my taking-action-in-thinking-out-loud process. (which will gradually help me get some sort of brain relaxation, I assume.) For Simba to fulfill his destiny to be a king (while my destiny is fulfilled with a simple task of solving out my difficulties with walking properly in rubber shoes,) he needed to remember who he was, and where he came from. Roots are no joke to these lions. I do agree with this lion theory to finding your true self- it is important to know where your seeds are planted. To humans though, it is less complicated and it doesn’t include bug eating adventures with random safari animals. The longest our roots can take us is; man + woman + love = new root. Whales (yes I will get to the point soon), on the other hand just splurt their ”magic dust” out in the daring blue, and hope they get lucky. Their roots must be just as screwed up and confused as Simba was. The lazy apples takes the prize in the least effort olympics, though. You eat them, plant their seeds – and business is done. That’s a reproducing gold medal right there. Lots of fruits have this glorious feature, but the bananas are left out from this social seed digging circle of life. It is worse enough that they are the unfortunate root of penis jokes and cherished by monkeys. Where do they come from? This piece of fruit is so mysterious. Do you dig the whole peal into the ground and shazzam; a banana is produced? If the seeds are not produced by the actual banana, where does this humble fruits get its seeds from then? You know. Humans come from humans, whales from whales and the lazy apples from their own seed. I’m gonna give the banana some credit. Today I have officially now been randomly confused by a banana. You sneaky fruit.

What didn’t happen? – A yawning bird.

A revelation of a wonderful speculation popped up while riding my luxury carriage – also known as bus 57, the other day. I was sort of fake reading “The Gum Thief” (staring at the words while challenging myself in guessing the colour of the next traffic light, therefore causing the distraction of the book as I found myself fake reading.)

As I turned the page with no intention to actually reading the next one, I was promptly confused by the two words my twinkie of a finger had located. Two words now causing distraction in my private traffic light prediction, which was already distracting me from whatever chance I had of understanding this book, and the these two words had now become the headquarters of my full attention. …bird yawn. Hm. Bird yawn. Bird yawn? I don’t know in what kind of Harry Potter world this dude have seen birds yawn, but I can only imagine he must have been trapped inside the body of Alice in Wonderland where cats pops out of the thin air, and caterpillars smokes. However, my bird observations don’t reach much further than the absence a beautiful singing sound coming from a raven. Poor things. They sound more like a disappointed deer in breeding season. My head was banging trying to think of a time in my life, where I’ve seen a bird yawn and it just wasn’t stored anywhere. Imagining the process of a bird yawning turned out to be extremely difficult as well. If they do yawn, is this awkward peak opening caused by tiredness and a reaction of their brain needing oxygen? And if this glorious moment have ever occurred in the wild – can one bird look at another bird while yawning, and cause this victimized bird to yawn as well – even though it wasn’t tired? There I was. A random passenger with one random thought. Do birds yawn? I just don’t get it.

Greetings fellow randomers.

Yes, you did end up here because you have an urge to think of the thing you never thought you would think of. (In case you later on have to enlighten yourself on reasons to come back.) I seem to produce a certain form of questions from my big bubble of a mindset, which I have now decided to share with you. I will talk about the pink elephant in the room that everyone refuses to mention. Growing up, I rocked the farmer life in with a family of five and being given the freedom of a white pony, space and air might have been the actual root of these random oral splat outs. (who knows?) The smirk smile on my face is an everlasting struggle to wipe off; I do certainly hope it stays there.

I have never drunken a cup of coffee; however, I have drunken a liter of Fanta without peeing. The honey badger is to me the king of the jungle, I still love Hanson, and apparently I tend to buy stuff that disappear. The worst thing that could happen to me is losing my memory. (i’ve got a golden stash of jolly moments there) I’m Danish – yes, just like the pastry, I did though, relocate myself to London last year. Your following glorious visits here will undergo awesome pieces of my randomness. That’s how I roll. Yes, I let the cat out of the bag.

Lighten up randomers! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg