Photo #93 - 96: Fire Time

Bought that crap when in Duesseldorf.

Never knew until tonight what it was good for....


Haha! Burn crappy German knit wear!

Burn in my Swedish fire!!! Die!!!

Selected Memories from Duesseldorf: Starbucks

Just kidding. It's true that I took the above picture when me and fellow SUPERBLOG!!ger Ugly Sambo visited Naziland, but I have no intention of trying to remember when and where and why I did. Hence, no memories to share.

I suffer from an affliction. Today it is causing me to walk around nude in my unnecessarily large apartment, clutching a beer in my claw-like left hand, and occasionally taking a sip. It is Friday afternoon, and I am bored. I've lived in stupid Falun the better part of a year now, and it's starting to dawn on me that this town is for shitheads. I am not a shithead, so what the hell am I doing here?

Selected Memories from Duesseldorf: The Kids Aren't Alright

So we were in this pub, something like the third in sequence. We were trying to establish some kind of rapport with The Kids, but The Kids were boring and stupid and ugly. One of them looked like half of Rob'n'Raz, and he was an asshole. His girlfriend was nicer, but still German, and Germans are pigs. Speaking of pigs, the third and last Kid was a policeman!

"Ein Zwei Polizei!" said my colleague, Uncle S.
"Ahhh!" said the policeman. "Ich bin ein Polizei!!"
Du bist ein Schweinhund, I thought, but I didn't say anything. But slightly later I exclaimed, "Bayern-München!"
"Ahhh!", said der Polizist.
"Düsseldorf ist traurig!", said I.
"Was meinst du?", said The Kids.
"Düsseldorf ist traurig!", I said once more, with a stupid smile on my lips.
"Warum?"
"Düsseldorf ist traurig", I said again, shrugging my shoulders. And that's when they stopped paying attention to me.

It was also around that time we realized that trying to speak Random German was a mistake. The rest of the night we spoke Drunken Gibberish, and thus was able to communicate far better with strangers.

I believe the photo above was taken by Uncle S at virtually the same moment this conversation took place! I'm posting it without his permission, as a political statement. Free Tibet!!

KoalaCam #11: Legless in Duesseldorf

I took this picture while lying on the floor outside my hotel room in Germany a month or so ago. I stumbled and fell. BUT, to my credit, I got up shortly afterwards (before falling down again, this time onto my bed). The ghost in the background is my co-blogger. He had his own problems.

When I awoke, I had a headache. I took a shower and then assumed a fetal position while listening to bob hund on my iPod Nano. I tried to watch German television, but it was in German. I drank from the beer on my table, but it was stale. Everything had gone wrong.

Photo #86: The Orange Revolution

This must be a great picture showing what the typical German man looks like. It's from this tiny little pub we visited in Duesseldorf. The guests were like retired or crazy and in some cases retired and crazy. Imagine how happy everybody became when a couple of young mad hatters like us came in and turned the sleepy little pub into a place that for the first time ever really rocked! We insulted them, we danced on their heads and kicked their butts but they just cried happy tears because we made them feel alive for the first time since the end of WWII. That's our mission you see. On the internet and in real life... To make miserable people feel OK for a while.

Photo #85: Police, Police, Potatoe Pig

I failed. There are thousands of famous Swedes but I just couldn't choo-choo-choose which one I should blog about tonight. Let's all make paper hats instead.
With a piece of newspaper and a little imagination, you can become another person. Recycle an old newspaper and roleplay your favorite character by making and wearing a hat!

Photo #84: Something New

After 3 minutes on German soil we saw these signs.
They meant a lot to us. As a matter of fact, you might say that they saved our lives.

Photo #83: Bling Bling

So, what is this? Pimp rings? The one ring and the other? Only the brown man knows....
BTW, posting pictures with the blogger thingie is fucking easy.

Selected Memories from Duesseldorf: The Brown Man

Hello Kinder! Was ist passiert? As you may have heard, we've returned from Naziland. We lost a great many brain cells, but we gained plenty of blogging material, so that's a fair trade.

This is an artist's rendition of the brown man we met in the hotel bar in the middle of the night. We spoke with him and his posse for quite a while, but I don't remember very much about what we talked about. He was American, played football for a living, and had some weird rings he was proud of. I think he might have used them to beat people up, but he seemed like a nice guy. I was drunk, and shortly afterwards I fell down. I awoke the morning after with a renewed sense of purpose.

Such was my encounter with... the brown man.

Photo #82: Sieg Heil!

They are loco. The German germs. And if you drink a lot you become a German too. We really tried to get drunk in order to speak lots of German but it was still hard to master loco language. English better, we met some people who could talk the talk. One of them was a fatter version of Svennis and the other one was some Terry Brown. He said he was a footballer but I was taller. More in depth reports from awesome Dysseldorf-trip any day. Please rhymes with Weeze which is the name of the little airport our plane landed on.

To Infinity!

Looks like we're going to Dusseldorf today. Any time now. Right on. Dude. Have no time for this. Must put stuff in bag and put bag in car and start car and drive. Bad picture. This better picture and also better post. Leave now and go read better post.

Photo #81: Monkeyland

I use magnets to attach things to my fridge. Pretty original yes? We're going to Dusseldorf and if you compare Dusseldorf with Disneyland you can can see that each place is spelled with the total of ten letters. Disneyland have rats and ice cream but in Dusseldorf you can visit Nachtresidenz Düsseldorf. They claim that it's Die Discotheque in Düsseldorf. We'll just see, won't we....

When researching the joint I found out that you are supposed to dress schrill oder schick. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? The krauts are already beginning to piss me off. I don't wanna be dressed in schrill oder schick girlymen clothes. I want to wear my usual outfit.