No lunch today

As the more astute of my non-excistant regular readers will have noticed, There was no quiet lunch update today this was because of a fairly successful exam-dinner that lasted most of the night.


This is mostly a filler post to make sure I keep the updating schedule up, but your reward for reading it is this picture of a semi-wild bunny eating grass I took while bringing my hangover pizza home.

On Blogging and summer

So.. the blog...

I like to belive there is one, and after 4 failed attempts to write an apology-post for not updating, I've decided to say "Frack that" and pretend nothing happened. To that effect i've started writing backdated posts which i'll upload in a single batch when they're done, ad just pretend they've always been there... 

The days seem to be melting into each other this month, for some unknown reason, probably because I've somehow ended up in a state of balance, where i worry less about things. This offcource makes reading my blog even less amusing then me stumbling into a relationship. I'll try to find a way to amuse my readers regardless, all 4 of you.

I recently made a terrible discovery, there is a place in Oslo, where I can buy beer in buckets. What's worse is that the buckets reduce the price of beer to roughly 40% of the normal pub price. I made this startling discovery a few weeks ago, after a series of events landed me a free luncheon consisting of Lobster and Champagne (due to family circumstances, I'll elaborate later) Anyway this, combined with the warmness, and sunniness of the day made me hunger for more alcohol, and I swiftly gathered a group for this purpose. 

We made our way up to Cheteu Neuf, the place I had heard served these "beerbuckets" to test the rumours. Now, I feel I have to clarify that the beer is not, to some slight dissapointment, pooured directly into the buckets and sett on the table, rather what you get is a bucket wih 5 bottles of chilled beer in a bucket filled with ice-cubes. An amazing innovation, which gives me new faith in mankinds struggle to better himself and his lot.

After a few hours of this, and about 5 bottles each, one of my comrades recieved word that a freind of hours hed recently (that very day) Come into a bit of money, seven figures of money to be excact. Naturally it seemed natural to invite him to share his wealth with us, less fortunate and share in the glorious discovery we had made. About half an hour later he showed up with the money for ludicrous amounts of beer and allso, to much jeering and public entertainment his ounger sister, and the sport of the evening turned to propositioning her, to his great dissmay... It has to be mentioned theat this sister is 16 and that this adds massive amounts of entertainment to the propositioning.

Eventiuly she left the table for greener, and possibly younger, pastures and we were left, 4 rowdy young men and a woman "of our aquaintance" who is on her way to Svalbard at the time of writing (more on that later as well).

This story has no real morale, other then large quantities of beer makes onee popular with bartenders. Also that quiet summerdays can still hold new discoveries. 

Drinking habits

Now, the first world shattering post out of the way i can move on to interesting weirdness in the world of academics. No! Don't run of yet! I have Jokes!

Lately it seems that my academic sources have been conspiring to make my world confusing, and giving me an incredible supply of interesting anecdotes, which, due to low monetary funds, I cannot take with me to the pub.

The latest in this long series of events assaulted me while I was reading an article on the Informants of Moltke Moe. Now A bit of backstory is needed here to avoid peoples head exploding... Moltke Moe was the son of Jørgen Moe. Those of you of the scandinavian persuasion will have goten some sense of what this means, for any foreigner in the audience I can add that Jørgen Moe along with Peder Christian Asbjørnsen published folktales. Imagine them as the Norwegian brothers Grimm, only with longer walks.

Now, Moltke Moe followed in the footsteps of his father and gathered tales from a little far-away land of make-believe called Bø, somewhere around the middle of Norway, and the Informants in question were the people wh told hm the stories he later published.

There, that wasn't so painful, now was it?

Now, on to the funny bit. In the 1970s Bjarne Hodne (noted norwegian folklorist) Published an article about these informants, where he gives a bit of Backstory to each of them, as far as he was able to find any at all, there were dung-eating peasants in a small town in Norway, and that's about as small as towns get.

One of these entries stands out from the rest. It's about a woman called Liv Bratterud and in it is quoted from a book published in 1918, an entry about how she got control of her farm from he husband Einar Slaatedalen, who is the real star of this narrative.

The entry reads thusly:

"[Han] fekk ho [og] Kaupte 800 pottur brennevin med ein gång og drakk upp. Han skaut etter svogeren sin og kom paa tukthuse. So stal han etter han o m ut att, og so skaate han på huse eingong til. so var han blitalande og velverd, og daa han kom og møtte arrestforvararen, sa'n "eg æ liksom dei som ikkje skjens fe aa komma igjen dær eg har våre før" sa'n[...]"

Now for the translation, this man, Einar apparently right after he got married went out and bought 800 pottur of Spirits,which he then consumed. Now what a pottur is I've yet to find out, whatever they are, and my historian-friends a have suggested anything from 3 deciliters to almost a Liter, this man managed to drink 800 of them. Seemingly in one sitting. He then goes on to shoot his father in law. Now I might now be the most rugged drinker, though I can hold my own, but somewhere between 240 and 800 liters of Spirits?? I can't even imagine you could drink that much water and survive... much less shoot your father-in-law.

Of cource he was arrested for this and thrown in jail. after which he went on to get caught stealing and being arrested and thrown in jail again, with the words "Well, I'm not the kind on man who minds going back somewhere I've already been..."

Clearly the Norwegians of the 1870s were made of something very different from what their made of now.

Huh, this ended up a lot longer then intended, oh well, I leave you now to pretend to be working, also, check out the "google-search of the day" in the sidebar, suffice it to say, your god-given-grant to have sex with a hamburger might be at stake...