Thomasaj.com

HAY!

Welcome to THE ORIGINAL FRIDAY POST – The highest ranking and most read posts here at this much fine site “Thomasaj.com”. As you probably gathered, I’m Eirik Xerox Jensen, and I’m here to guestpost and to raise the bar a couple of notches (no offence, Thomas!! No regular fence either!! HEHEHE! (actually, I’m all out of fences :(( ))

So. My day. I woke up at five fifteen today, to venture to the great Bergen. I did some training (did you see what I did there?) some flying, and some bussing. I’ve actually tested the three biggest kinds of collective transport… in one day. How about them cookies? Or them transporties. Actually, that only leaves out one element. The water. Next time, I’ll have to include some boating in my schedule.

The reason for my mission? I picked up my new car, of course. I arrived in Bergen at eight am. It was raining like a motherlickcocksuckah — and no, I won’t pull a standard raining joke. I hate raining jokes. Especially when it’s raining… MEN!

:D:D:D:D:D

Did you see what I did there?

Anyways. My trip went on to meat (DID YOU SEE… .. . ffdfs) the seller, and then we ventured to the great Biltilsynet. It took about ~2 hours before the car was registred and paid in my name etc, and about 12′o’clock I started the long journey home to Oslo. It took about 8 hours, but was a delight in my car.

Oh? Which car, you ask? Well of course, it’s a Bavarian Motor (not Mother :D:D) Works.  And it’s great! It’s chooey, it’s hooey, it’s black, and I’m pretty sure my kebab-skills just increased by 30%. It’s like picking up The Great Katana of Kebabing, which gives you a couple of pluses here and there, and maybe a couple of defenses against a roll.. or something? I actually “convoyed” on the E6 with 3 other Bavarian Mother Works, and in two of the other cars there were typical BMW drivers. I’ll let you figure that one out.

Also, a pretty funny incident, when I was parked at “Voss” — to get myself a meal and a fm-sender (which really sucked twins (testicles)) — 4 New Norwegians had gathered by my car, and they were pointing and talking. And they nodded to me, and I nodded to them, as I took my seat and drove out of there. As fast as I could. A pretty great trip, all in all. I had my eyes on the road for all the time, so I didn’t get to see any of that great nature, but it was cool anyways.

Holy shit, this is one long Friday Post. I’ma leave it at this.

See you next friday!

Greets

Eirik Xerox Jensen — Guest Ranter 2008.

Hey dudes!

That’s right. There’s a couple of signs which surely telegraphs that the friday has finally arrived.

1. The bird do some chirping, and the amount of “endelig fredag”-mails just pile up in your inbox.

2. The traffic reduces since people take the day off and do other things.

3. The Friday Post arrives on this very website.

AnD it’S FrIdAy-O-RaMa!@#!@#!@#!@#

fRiDaY-O-RaMA-o-RaMA-O-RaMa-O-RaMa!

OooOoO-RaMa!

And on a happier note, GTA IV is everything I expected then some more. It’s crazy fun. I can’t even start to describe how fun it is, because it just is. It may be the greatest game the world has ever seen. The physics, the graphics… the general feel of the game. Been playing for a solid bunch of hours now and I’m barely picking at the scabs which are experiences and fun-filled adventures. So I’m guessing there’s a lot more in stock, and I just can’t wait!

Not much happening, I’ma get my hair cut this helg. I’ma cut it, I’m a trim it, and I’ma cut it some more!

The pakis are running over the grous. The rain is streaming down. Mexican melodies playing on the radio. There’s food. Being prepared. Upstairs. I do not know which kind of food. The smell of peppers circulating outside my doorway. A little hedgedog crosses the road. “Heh, a hedgedog” I notice (out loud). But no one can hear me. No one.. can hears me!

I’m looking out in the horisonts while I think “Father, it’s friday. It’s friday and I don’t have any good stories for the friday corner.” I softly lurk my Bjørn Borg underwear whilst I feel my left testicular is laying all wrong. “God damn Bjørn Borg. Don’t you have any balls!” I shout. “Don’t you have any balls!” is repeated. He obviously doesn’t. Why do you need balls when you’re the worlds greatest tennis star? Except tennis-balls. Why do you need OTHER types of balls! Volleyballs! Basketballs! Footballs (soccerballs). They have no value for a tennisstar.

I really don’t have anything to tell!

Yes. I saw three persons in the open dealing behind Oslo City today. It was right a view.

Here. Take a soft-ice.

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Pakistanarene løper over grusen. Regnet strømer loddrett ned. Meksikanska melodier på radioen. Det lagas mat oppe. Uvisst kvisleis mat. Eg kjenn duften av krydder sirkulere uttafor inngongen. Et lite pinnsvin løper over veien. “Heh, et pinnsvin” bemerkar eg. Men ingen høyrar meg. Ingen høyrar meg.

Eg kikar ut i horisonten mens eg tenk “Fader. Det er jo fredag. Det er fredag og eg har ingen bra historier til fredagshjørnet.” Eg lirkar forsiktig på Bjørn Borg-undertøyet menns eg kjen at venstre testikkel ikkje lig bekvemt. “Pokkers Bjørn Borg. Har du ikkje ballar” roper eg. “Har du ikkje ballar!!” gjentakes. Han har visst ikkje ballar. For kva skal man med ballar når man er væras største tennisstjerne? Bortsett fra tennis-ballar. Kva skal man med ANDRE typer ballar? Volleyballar? Basketballar? Fotballar? Dem har rett og slet ingen verdi for ei tennisstjerne.

Eg har virkelig ingenting å fortelje!

Jo. Eg så tre personar stå åpenlyst og deala bak Oslo City idåg. Det var et riktig syn.

Her. Ta ein soft-is.

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Hey yo BOOYAKASHA!!!

Welcome to the first edition of TFC. The. Friday. Corner. It’s my own little dedicated corner where I do some ranting, some franting, perhaps some manting. It all depends, baby. On the friday. And the corner. :)

So. Nothing happening here in TFC really. Except I’m working my ass off!!!

(writing this text)

It’s funny because it’s true. So. New games. Been playing Bully – Scholarship Ed. lately. It’s cool. Cool like pants. Gotta love kicking ass and chewing bubblegum. I’ve also been racing that old dog Colin McRae Rally : Dirt. It’s cool. Cool like shorts. Gotta love racing them dune buggies over the pearly sand. Watching the sun set behind the fjells whilst the clutch is shot in and out like a horny Cock shoots his head back and forth when watching the hens feed on the henny hen-food. The delicious sound of the gearlever shift back and forth between the gears… the turbo whining like an arab on fire. It’s great.

Spent some time in Oslo today. I gotz to say, I’m one familiar mutherfucker! I know my way both in and out of Oslo now. Also, I’m pretty confident when it comes to finding the slott. It must be my gaydar responding to Ari Behn. It’s funny because I don’t have a gaydar since I’m straight as an arrow. :)

(If you’re reading this, Ari McBehn — no hard feelings, and no hard penises (since I’m not a homosexual))

Thanks for reading this edition of the Friday Post\Corner. I opt for Post. Sounds much better.

Eirik the Xerox Guest-ranter signing off

Wishing you a good-ass weekend!