Nazi Shoes

Have recently become quite the internet-shopper with numerous purchases from tradera. Was particularly delighted with a pair of new-looking adidas trainers to young Hjallis yesterday for a mere 70kr. Good walking shoes. The young scamp could no doubt do some solid walking in said shoes. However, my joy was to be shortlived when I got a mail from the seller and saw that their mail address was nazi(name)@hotmail.com. Balls!

I am a fan of bargain shoes. I am not a fan of giving money to nazis. Nazis in general are pretty rubbish. In fact, I can't think of a single good one.

First blogspot post and disgusting omelette-mix

A new chapter in my short blogging history commences with a move from Metro to Blogger. There is no specific theme behind this blog as you can see from the old entries posted below.

Many of them are much in the style of this mornings' post where I stumble across something I have difficulty processing for one reason or another, followed by my often nonsenical musings on said something. Todays' post concerns a strange product I found at Coop Extra recently - namely a ready-made omelette mix in a carton. Many questions spring to mind

Who decided that this was a product worth selling? Who buys it? Why? Last time I checked omelettes required very few ingredients and barely any effort. Furthermore, this ready-mix had a lot of ingredients I do not associate with omelettes... most of them beginning with E followed by a long number

If I was a rich man I’d buy a carton just to test it. But I’m not. So I won’t. In these financial climes I just can’t justify such frivolous spending. Maybe someone more daring than I can buy it and invite me round for dinner?

Enough for now. More later.

2-2

An unexpected encounter with 'moustachioed arch-nemesis' this morning. The upper hand was mine. The bus stopped mere metres from where I was standing whilst he stood forlornly at the official stopping place believing the yellow behemoth occupying would rumble off allowing him to waltz unchallenged to his favourite aisle seat. Alas, he was mistaken. I lowered my head for some private smirking, a second at most. I looked up, and the moustachioed devil swooped in like the proverbial hawk. Not only was he now positioned in front of me, but the guy in front of me too.

Inconcievable.

And so, just like that, arch-nemesis is back on level terms. 2-2. Bitter, I make no attempt to muffle my hayfever-induced sneezing in a spiteful attempt to wake him (because as per usual he is asleep within seconds)but there is no rousing him from his self-satisfied slumber. He sleeps the blissful sleep of the victor. The scoundrel. I shall have my vengeance.

Freddie Prinze Jr is poo on a stick

He really is. Was flicking through the tv channels yesterday and saw one of his long line of cinematic masterpieces ’I know what you did last summer’ was showing.

Found this quote from the great man himself on t’internet:

Acting is the only thing I’m good at. I know how to create and make people feel something

Two things. Firstly, you’re not good at it. Decidedly shit, in fact. I will concede that the second part of the quote is true. You make me feel sick. He earned US $2.5 million for Scooby Doo. Arguably one of the worst films ever. To put this in perspective - "It would cost just US $2.5 million worth of drugs to significantly reduce HIV infection of unborn babies across the world".

Makes you all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn’t it!

Just finished this...

Not at all bad this book. An eccentric Ukranian widower who moved to the UK post-WWII plans on marrying a fellow Ukranian (Valentina) to help gain asylum for her and her genius teenage son (Stanislav). We follow the story through the eyes of the yonuger of his two daughters whom despite their differences conspire to prevent the marriage fearing their father is being exploited. The father, however, is infatuated with the heavily made-up, peroxide blonde, enormous-boobed woman who is less than half his age and is determined to go ahead with the marriage.

They wed but things do not pan out as the father had hoped and the daughters step up their efforts to rid their father of this woman. Valentina, however, is not easily budged. I'll leave it at that and say that the story is highly entertaining and the characters of the father and Valentina (especially her rambling insults such as 'dried shrivelled relic of ancient goat turd' and 'morsel of old grisel that dog chewed dog spat out') in particular are pure comedic genius. Read it and you'll find out how it ends. Simple as that!

I've now started a somewhat more serious effort of Albert Camus, The Plague. How intellectual and pretentious of me!

Sad :-(

Read THIS in Svenska Dagbladet today. Pretty depressing reading for us fathers. For those not bothered to read the whole article, here's the sad bit...

"5 700 barn mellan 8 och 15 år hade svarat på frågan vem de vände sig till om de behövde tröst. Mamma kom på första plats. Pappa på femte. Däremellan kom en kompis, någon annan och ingen. "

Hopefully a lot of dads will have read the article and realised that they need to sort themselves out. The thought of Hjalmar (17 months in 5 days) turning to someone else, or no-one at all, for comfort is horrible.

Högskoleprovet

Completely forgot to inform one and all that my undertaking ofhögskoleprovet was a relative success. Obviously the official grade will not arrive for some weeks but thanks to the marvels of modern technology I was able to ascertain that a solid 1.2 or 1.3 is my likely result. Not bad considering the national average is around 0.8 or 0.9. I'm happy with my effort but happier for my good friend Miriam who has a definite 1.9 and can thereby get in to the university programme she desires. Top stuff Mizza!

Rubbish advertising!

Came across this top-class piece of advertisement creativity after picking up Hjalle from pre-school the other day. I understand that in times of recession one perhaps doesn't have the funds to splash out on lavish advertising material but I'm sure you can do better than this. Not only is it uninspiring, it's also a little confusing and ambiguous... are they selling dance-shoes? Or are they merely depicting the shoes of someone called Dan? I would say my shoes but mine don't have heels.

Apologies for the reflection but it's a small price to pay for good weather, n'est-ce pas? Ooooh, just like Poirot!

Hitler doesn't approve...

... of unauthorised people entering work zones. That and Jewish people.

New Shoes...

... is a topic I will not be bringing up in this blog. Not now. Not ever. It's just so boring. Speaking of boring: Today I've been trying to study a bit of maths-type stuff for the högskoleprov. So exceptionally dull. Frustrating that it makes up such an important part and large part of the test.

Something I did find interesting today was a story that was read for the kids at my school. Actually, the story itself was pretty average. Old man (Algot) is lonely. Makes friends with worm (Karlknut). Fun ensues. My interest, however, was aroused primarily by one incident. Algot, a dapper type, decides his new pal needs some clothes. Can't be seen with a naked worm, can he? The tailor complains it might be difficult but manages to put together a nice little outfit with (and here's the bit that bothers me) lots of pockets. Why would a worm need a pocket? Let alone lots of them. Even more confusing is that no further reference is made to said numerous pockets rendering the whole incident completely pointless. A bit like this anecdote perhaps but I can't be held responsible for the way my mind works. So I've made a quick list of things a worm could have in its' pocket:-

• FUCK ALL! It's a worm!

8 days till...

Högskoleprovet. Nigh on zero studying done. Pressure is on. Kind of. Have done a few sample tests and they went well enough. Basically, I'm doing the test as a back up to my grades from the UK so I can get in to do a teaching degree. Not really sure what sort of score one might need to get in. Will look it up. Now I have to drop the little fella off at pre-school before a punishing 10-13.30 at work. Goal!!!

Så himla trött

More of a post to keep the routine going rather than to say anything of note. Trained for the first time in 3 weeks so am pretty tired. So rather than sit up trying to think of something interesting to write I've decided to go for the cop-out-throw-in-something-to-reminisce-about-technique. Enjoy!

"Holy best bits!"

An Incovenient Truth

Last nights' St.Patricks Day festivities were, to say the least, a tad low-key in comparison to previous years. It was a rather intimate gathering of friends at The Great Simmo and Mizzles place. Nothing wrong with that.A few cheeky beers. Lovely. However, as the evening was drawing to a close someone said what had crossed every mind in the room under the duration of the evening: "We're getting old!" It was a statement of such undeniable truth that the subject was swiftly diverted to previous crazy exploits so we could all feel young again. Then we realised we were up past 11 on a school night and all went home.

More on Catholicism...

Another day and unfortunately another reason to question the sanity of the Pope and the message that the Catholic church delivers to its followers. For those who haven't heard the pope re-affirmed the churches stance that condoms do not help prevent aids. I fully understand that the church wants to preach fidelity or abstinence but not the need to lie (and let's face it, it is a lie) about the effectiveness of condoms when it comes to tackling the problem of HIV/AIDS. One, at best, misinformed and, at worst, downright idiotic statement like this undoes so much of the hard work done by different organisations working with this problem all over the world... thats what makes me annoyed.

I'm going to try to leave Catholicism alone for a bit as I feel it's been mentioned far too much in the formative days of my blog.

St.Patricks Day greetings!

If any of you reading this are Irish then I'm sure that this late in the day all the words will be blending nicely into one. Both written and spoken. Mild celebrations in order this evening should I get 'the pass'. Can't risk a hangover when you know 30+ unruly tykes will be waiting for me at work tomorrow. Must dash, Hjalmar has just done a poo.

Toodle-pip

Härliga måndag

Nothing livens up an otherwise dull monday morning like an outlandish comment/article in the newspaper. Alas, I was not left disappointed this morning whilst glancing through Metro. I came across a small article about an actor (the one who plays Gustav Vasa in the Alecta adverts) who was stopped and handcuffed by undeground (as in the metro) security who felt he was drunk and acting aggressively. Nothing startling here per se but wait for it.... he's only gone and compared it to being raped. Oh dear!

Now I'm sure everyone has a bouncer/security guard with inflated ego on a power trip story. However, I also believe most would consider it a mild inconvenience, slightly irritating or even extremely annoying depending on one's temperament. But drawing comparisons to rape? BA-JEEBOS!!!

Let's hope no woman (or man for that matter) chooses him to confide in after being raped. I can just imagine his response...

"Oh god? Raped? That's not too good is it? Reminds me of the time I was detained by a security guard for half an hour. Now THAT was bad! Cake?"

This man ís a penis!

Whilst on the subject of penises (or peni)... a little something to lighten the mood. One of the kids (just turned 3) at my school informed me today that it's good to have some skin on your penis because it looks nice/pretty. It's also pretty when you put a flower in someones hair. Beautiful images, both.

Washing up calls. Boooo!

English making a comeback

Hjalmar has increased his english vocabulary by 200% in the space of one morning. From a measly one to a colossal three in a matter of hours. The new additions to his vocabulary are 'bye' and 'bang'. Truly, a proud day. He still says more in Swedish though.

Ho hum, after victories for Wales and Ireland yesterday I find myself in the odd position of actually wanting the English rugby team to beat France today and thereby removing any chance of them winning the 6 nations. However, I'm sure once the game starts my mood will change.

First goal achieved! Sgorio!

Just realised that my last post was my fifth which means I've attained my first target. First battle won, the war continues.

In other news the catholic chuch in the US apparently paid out $436million as a result of sexual assaults by priests. Incroyable!

An early exit?

This weekend I've actually an excuse for not posting but in general I have to say this has been an average start to my blogging adventure. What I will say is that I'm not best impressed with BLOGG.SE so am contemplating switching to another provider with a search function at least. If I've miseed something on the blogg.se homepage then please set me straight but it is frustrating to see the same top 20 every day. Especially if you don't give a toss about make-up, clothes, shoes and other such frivolities.

The last few days have been pretty busy with work and a seminar for my masters course at Malmö Högskola. One of the workshop exercises was to come up with media strategies to counteract rising militant islamism in Pakistan. Great fun. Although somewhat tough when you've spent 6 hours beforehand working with small children.

Somehing that popped in to my mind over the last few days was:

Which one of the rhino and warthog characters in the Turtles is Rocksteady and which is Bebop? A quick search on t'internet informed me that the Rhino was Rocksteady. Great characters both

but my search also reminded me of Krang, the pink brainy type fella who lived in the belt of an exo-suit. One doesn't see such ingenuity nowadays.

Great year 1987... Turtles, The Simpsons, The Joshua Tree, Appetite for Destruction, Bad, La Bamba, Full Metal Jacket, Au revoir les enfants, Predator, Planes, Trains and Automobiles and so much more.

I'm sure some less soopoib stuff happened but who cares?

Already Lagging...

Last nights late update never materialised. Just too tired. Too much tea, ice-cream and Salt and Vinegar crisps during the football methinks. As a means of getting back on track I'm going to go for a double effort this evening. So this is what happened/what I learned yesterday.

1. Confounded the critics to beat bus arch-nemesis again. 2-0 me!

2. My elation at the onset of spring was somewhat misguided. Every year I seem to forget that with Spring comes pollen and with pollen months of itchy, runny torment. No fun.

3. Had a pleasant fika with the 'great simmo' (sounds like a magician but it isn't) at arguably one of Malmö's best cafés, BAKOM MUGGEN. If you haven't been there. Go. The lemon tart is the business.

4. Heard that another of my good friends fell asleep whilst getting his hair cut. Narcolepsy anyone? Top stuff, Chocs.

5. Watched football. Average. Zlatan. Average. Reminded me of a reply toSTEPHAN MENDEL-ENKS' COLUMN in Metro a few days ago where someone complained how the use of the word 'saviour' in reference to Ibrahimovic drove them crazy. But I quite like the idea...

" And, yay, in a garage in Rosengård was there born a child, the son of God, saviour of the world who will deliver us from our sinful, barbaric life to peaceful godfearing enlightenment through moderate trickery, a few good goals, abject laziness and big stage mediocrity. Praise be to Zlatan, Our New Messiah.

And I should know about messiahs, I've followed a few...

Look, a reindeer! 'Miaow'

Great reaction from young Hjalmar when we came across a reindeer (who I must say seemed lost and confused near the meat counter at Coop Värnhem). I'm used to him miaow-ing at passing dogs but this took the randomness to a new level. Nevertheless, Hjalmar seemed happy enough meeting an antlered chum for the first time.

Away with me to watch Champions League action...

Buses, Baldness and Brazilian Religious Buffoonery

Having been woken at 5.15 by my beloved son who felt it a reasonable time to rise after sleeping mere centimetres from my face the whole night it already felt like a long day when I finished work at 13.30 only for the inevitable bus delay to dampen my mood. Due to arrive at 13.48 you can clearly see from the picture (taken upon the buses arrival) that it was late. Most frustrating. No explanation or token apology from the bus driver either. Impolite git didn’t even say hello.

Despite these setbacks the day as a whole can be considered a success. First (another bus story) I cunningly outmanoeuvred my moustachioed ‘bus arch-nemesis’ and was able to usurp his red bus-seaty throne. He’s one of these people that plonks himself on the aisle seat (always the same one in his case. Not today though) and puts his bag on the inside to ensure that no-one invades his private sphere. He even takes to putting on his seat-belt and falling asleep within milliseconds of sitting down to ward off even the most determined adversary. He is a wily old fox but he was bested this time. 1-0 me since blog inception. More to follow, no doubt.

Also, the onset of spring is becoming more and more apparent. Blue skies, above zero temperatures, flowery/leafy growth (including some dangly fellas on a tree that may or may not have been birch), singing birds. It’s all go. Makes me extremely happy knowing that when spring and summer come, I’ll be getting paid (poorly I must add) to spend most of my time outdoors.

Had a brief conversation with a friend this afternoon about balding men growing their hair long, often shoulder length, in an apparent attempt to convince the world that their hair is as thick, fast-growing and luxurious as at any other time during their life. Low and behold one of these types popped up when I was watching TV earlier and I now feel obliged to admonish such lunacy. You don’t fool anyone. We all know you’re going bald. You just look silly. Especially you who put said bald-long hair in a crappy little ponytail thinking that it embodies a certain youthful rebelliousness. It really, really doesn’t.

More annoyance of a more serious nature then I’m done for today. The story about a nine-year old Brazilian girl who became pregnant with twins after being raped (from the age of 6) by her step-father has been covered by most newspapers in recent days so most are no doubt familiar with it. Her doctor, who recommended an abortion due to her body not being able to handle such a pregnancy (really?), and mother, who consented to it have now been excommunicated by the Catholic Church. This is obviously because of the commonplace view amongst religious hardliners that it is wrong to take a catholic life regardless of the circumstances. Utter madness! Should a nine-year old risk probable death to give birth to children that would remind her of 3 years of rape at the hands of a sadistic step-father? I cannot comprehend that people believe that this situation is better than an abortion. If you disagree... then please try to convince me otherwise. I’m all ears!

So as not to finish on such a miserable note... my 3 things I’ve wondered about today:

1. Why does singed hair smell so bad?

2. How delicious are White Russians? (Rhetorical)

3. When will TV-programs with singing-, dancing- or singing and dancing competitions end? Surely a bazillion shows is enough...

Humble beginnings

As I venture in to the world of blogging it feels appropriate to point out a few details before I start the blog proper. It will no doubt appear amateurish and quite possibly just substandard but I hope the content will not be a mere reflection of the shabby exterior. As for the content, I don’t really have a specific topic I wish to discuss. It may well be all from my day-to-day activities, nonsensical rants about small or large things that irritate/amuse me to my views on current events from around the world, films I see, books I read. An amalgam, if you will. Another thing I’m undecided upon is as to whether I write in English only, or English and Swedish. We’ll see what happens there but I suspect it will be predominantly in English. The plan is that the blog will improve both with regards to its’ contents and outward appearance as I ease my way in.

So where to begin? It would seem superfluous to write about myself personally as that information will soon be in my profile so perhaps I should start by explaining the name, notmypenguin. As my gaze drifted around the room whilst thinking what witty, clever blog name I should assign myself I saw one of my sons’ (Hjalmar, 16 months) books* lying on the table in front of me. It was one of the first books we bought for him and he was particularly keen on it so what better than a name dedicated to him. Perhaps its not the greatest honour to bestow upon ones offspring but one has to start somewhere.

The book itself (It’s not my penguin), a touchy-feely number, is to be recommended. We follow a mousey protagonist which has seemingly lost its’ penguin through Antarctic climes. Why a mouse owns a penguin is not discussed. Anyhoo, after encountering, amongst others, a penguin (an emperor, I believe) whose wings are ‘too velvety’ and another whose head is ‘too silky’ (both of which are qualities I admire in a penguin) we start to worry the mouse might never succeed in finding its’ waddling companion. Alas, we come across the missing bird and its’ instantly recognisable thanks to a baby that is ‘so fluffy’. It is too. Cracking!

So now that I have officially posted my first blog entry, I just hope I can find the time to keep it from disappearing into a digital abyss. First goal, 5 posts.

Something I’ve thought about considered incorporating was a ‘3 things I’ve wondered today’ bit. So here’s the first installment:

1. Can penguins’ wings be too velvety? I’d hate to think they can

2. Will anyone ever read this drivel? Most likely not

3. Is ‘korv med bröd ochstekt potatis’ really an acceptable meal to serve children? Honestly, bread AND potatoes!

Ho hum... first post done. Elin, Hjalmar. Älskar er.

Dan

*One of the books owned by my only child. Not a book owned by one of my many sons. Happy Paddy?