Well i had sworn myself to hermitville following the barrage of visitors over the last 3 months and the pinnacle of social marathon the birthday slash sugarcubes weekend of extreme.
I almost became a hermit. I stayed home and ate good food with friends for a whole weekend. No dancing on furniture, no proper boozing past a glass of red with dinner. I did in actual fact enjoy this a great deal but it soon became a matter of itching to g.o. o.u.t.
Thusly when miss Björg invited me to go and see The Brian Jonestown Massacre play at Nasa i hastily agreed. Curver came over for dinner first and witnessed me tidying myself. That is the ritual of pluck, exfoliate, moisturise paint and bleach with great interest. I think boys assume ladies just leap out of bed highly maintained sometimes. This isn't the case. Its like a permanent job, for me at least and I am actually, for all my occassional diva-esque ways, low maintenance. But once every couple of weeks i have to tend to the out of control aspects.
For me, specifically, this involves a monobrow of epic proportions. Seriously its as if someone drew a line seagull on my head in fat marker pen. Björk's got nothing on me eyebrow wise. I let it grow when i went to France one summer for almost a month. It terrified me. What was even worse was when i returned and decided to restyle the fucker into a less werewolf looking affair, I was less than pleased to see it left a sodding tanmark. Oh well, I deal.
I have been feeling somewhat miffed of late, thanks to the fact it seems very true that
Icelanders don't do dates, there is drunken and whathave you attention blah blah but being approached for niceness would be more preferable. Not being one easily beaten, I decided before going to see the band i would do the pamper ritual and apologised to Curver for having to witness it. It does make a girl feel nice, well this girl at least, to feel like all the sundries are looking proper. I can quite happily don jeans and a tee and still feel princessy if i have pampered myself.
Jeans were not on the menu on wednesday though, for Svenni and Sruli had got me some black latexy trousers from Liborious for my birthday and aceness they are indeed.
We went, we drank rather alot and Björg, Curver, Daníel and I generally had a whale of a time in addition to kind of sort of seeing the band. It was quite good for what it is, but personally I don't adore that style of music and was quite happy drinking and behaving stupidly with friends, of which there suddenly appeared to be many.
The rest of the week passed in somewhat of a haze until Friday afternoon when i, or Kiki-Ow rather, Dj-ed at Gel, this was nice and fun but I was incredibly tired and when Lilja and I got home I knew a powernap was essential.
The troops marched over and did much drinking and foolishness and I did what I never, ever, ever do. I couldn't find something to wear which i felt nice in and refused to go out. I felt miserable aaaaas sin. Even though I knew this wasn't like me, and even though I had my makeup done all properly by Hulda and even though I was supposed to go assist Curver dj at Sirkus.
So the troops left and I called Gaui in the UK and was swiftly given a talking to that I very much needed. Within 15minutes I leapt into one of my jumpsuits and got myself to Sirkus.
I was incredibly glad I went, even though I spent the entire day after in bed hungover to a point I never knew existed. Oh free beer and cocktails, you shalt pay for this! Curver and I drunkenly played tunes and danced about at some point it seems I was dancing on tables again and giving out wedgies. Lord only knows. I have been researching if i caused any actual or ego damage and it seems as if most people didn't realise I was more than a little tipsy which I find very unlikely. But yes fun and randomness is always good.
For now I must go clean and prepare for Sruli et al's arrival for Sunday dinner but I shall leave you with a few random facts..
Kiki-Ow is mentioned on the
Björk homepage at the moment. I would be lying if i said this doesn't make me smile.
The
video I made for
Ghostigital has been submitted for the Icelandic Music Awards, which it most certainly won't win, being a zero budget affair, but again this does give me a smile.
The
blog I and others write for Iceland Express is going to be a magazine, yay us.
I was asked to be one of those scantily clad girls in the back of Séð og Heyrt magazine.. hahahahaahahahahahaahaaaa. Tackorama factor twelfty billion. I said no. NO.
