Gosh Yellow Doll

Gosh Yellow Doll

I have a sudden craving for chartreuse. I want chartreuse eye shadow, eye liner and nail polish. Especially chartreuse nail polish, to brighten up this sad, grey weather we’re having. I want all the chartreuse, and I blame Brightest Bulb in the Box.

But I don’t have any chartreuse anything.

I scoured my nail polish collection, certain I would find something. According to cute boy, I have more nail polish than he’s ever seen, so surely I would have a neglected chartreuse stashed away somewhere?

Between assorted mints and grassy greens I found Gosh Yellow Doll, the only vaguely chartreuseish candidate in sight, and on it went.

Gosh Yellow Doll

The only thing I can say what the crap is this crap. Despite the green tinge this polish has in the bottle, it applies a pure yellow. A really, really bad yellow. At two coats it’s hideously transparent, patchy all over the place, and has randomly flooded or pulled away from my cuticles. What the crap. Why is this even in my collection?!

So I don’t have a chartreuse polish at all. I doubt I can be bothered to hunt down an OPI Fiercely Fiona at this point, but maybe Inglot can help me out?

From the feminist armoury

It’s International Women’s Day, and I have, unfortunately, been far too ill to join the protest march downtown. It’s an important one, as our new government is trying to casually restrict access to abortion, hiding it in the language of “rights” and “conscience,” and telling women we “don’t understand” when we protest. Thankfully I would have been just one voice among many, had I been there.

Over ten thousand people showed up at Youngstorget to protest.
Foto by Ingunn Andersen for NRK.

Instead I’ve been home, playing Diablo 3. Which is somewhat ironic on this day, as the game contains Blizzard’s usual helping of sexism, racism and lack of original storytelling (hello Kerrigan, I mean Sylvanas, I mean Leah). And yet … the game won’t let me forget.

Chivalry Blocker
Chivalry Blocker

I present to you the feminist shield of choice, the Chivalry Blocker. Anyone who has experienced street harassment will appreciate the added resistance and reduced damage from melee attacks, and extra intelligence is always useful.

May your abortions be safe and legal, and all your days free of sexism, benevolent or otherwise!

Becoming fabulous!

It's very nice of my hairdresser to offer me tea while I wait for my appointment, but there's something vital missing here.
It’s very nice of my hairdresser to offer me tea while I wait for my appointment, but there’s something vital missing here.

After two weeks of being annoyed and wearing my hair in a pony tail, I gave in and got a haircut.

I don’t like getting my hair cut. I don’t like dealing with hair at all, so I let it grow until it becomes unwieldy and unflattering and annoys the crap out of me. Only then do I book an appointment with the expensive hairdresser — I’ve been to several cheap ones, and at best they give me a haircut that does not actively annoy me. The expensive ones can give me a cut that almost makes this whole hair business seem worth it.

I don’t like being at the salon. Keeping my attitude towards hair in mind, it’s hard for me to find a common topic of conversation with someone who loves hair so much they became a ladies’ hairdresser. Sometimes it even gets me in trouble: One hairdresser threatened to shave my head because I mentioned I didn’t use conditioner. The same person also told me I needed to smile more through the whole ninety minutes it took them to give me a terrible cut. I probably don’t need to mention this was one of the cheap hairdressers I’ve since stopped going to.

Today was thankfully quite pleasant, and even a little amusing.

I told my hairdresser I don’t blowdry my hair, and that my only real styling implement is a hair brush. They responded by wincing and giving me a blowdry that would make a Wella model envious. Incidentally, the style of choice involved having a curtain of hair over my good eye, so for the last half of the styling process all I could see was fuzzy blobs.

Who needs sight when you can be fabulous!

Last days of Fitbit Ultra

I got my Fitbit Ultra a little less than two years ago, and I’ve been wearing it daily since. If assorted forums are anything to go by, people lose and replace these things every six months, so mine is practically ancient.

And it really looks it. This is what my Fitbit Ultra looks like as of today:

Broken Fitbit Ultra

The scuffs and scrapes have been there for ever, bits of the outer casing started falling off months back, and today the outer casing has come loose from the back, exposing the electronics within.

The unit still works, and I hope it will continue to do so for a while longer. I was hoping to upgrade to the Force, but the european release date has been pushed back to “spring 2014”.

As much as I’d hate to leave two years of data behind, the Withings Pulse and associated ecosystem is looking sexier by the minute.

Happy bloody new year

Happy bloody new year. It can only go uphill from here, if this quite unpleasant new year’s eve is anything to go by. This day — and half the week leading up to it — has been marred by people thinking new year’s is a license to be inconsiderate jerks and discard common sense.

Let’s take the whole mess in order.

I’m used to the occasional firework going off in the days leading up to new year’s eve, but this time has been ridiculous. There’s been fireworks going off non-stop from sunset to two or three in the morning for the last three days. I don’t understand why you would want to dilute the special occasion like that, and I really don’t understand why you choose to be so inconsiderate towards neighbours who have pets, small children, or who simply need to get up early and don’t want to be kept up half the night by constant explosions.

Oslo has an official fireworks show off the pier on new year’s eve. While I’ve seen better fireworks elsewhere, it’s the best I’m going to get if I’m home for new year’s, and so I like to head downtown to watch and photograph it. So does the rest of the city, so lots of people in various states of drunkenness on public transport is to be expected. That’s fine. But a dozen people getting on the tube while smoking and continuing to smoke while in transit is not fine.

A young man in a suit didn’t think this kind of behaviour was quite antisocial enough, so he decided to graffiti the tube stop while the crowd was walking past. I’m not ashamed to say I punched him with my tripod as I passed.

There was a higher than usual number of police cars between the tube stop and the pier. Good to see the police keeping a good ratio of officers to assholes on the streets! I heard rumours about them confiscating illegal fireworks, unfortunately I didn’t see this myself.

As usual, people had been shooting up fireworks around the pier for hours before midnight, so the air was filled with smoke, obscuring the official fireworks. I really, really don’t understand why you want to ruin the good stuff with the very much un-spectacular store-bought fireworks.

Those floating fire lanterns are really pretty, but sending them up on the pier when the wind is blowing inland makes me think you are actually braindead. Why are you sending flying fire into downtown Oslo?!

The night bus home is going to be crowded and full of drunk people. Again, this is expected and fine. However, you being drunk and in a party mood simply does not change that the bus doors need a certain space to open and close. Shouting Money talks, muddafocka at the bus driver when he tells you to move out of this space for the third time is not helping anyone. What does that even mean? How does that statement make even a lick of sense in this context?

Ah well. It’s late, I’m grumpy, I probably didn’t get any decent photos (although that is my own fault), but I’m going to not care and go to bed. Tomorrow will definitely be better.