Laïcs, dame, laïcs

Lost

Reality hit hard after returning from vacation as credit card bills were overflowing my mailbox, my schedule at school was filling up and rain started pouring down over the south of France.

That’s why it’s good that I had friends visiting for 4-5 days, giving me the possibility to waste even more money on women, booze and fast cars.

But now I decided to put my life on the shelf and be a machine all the way until going home to Norway in July. Started well with training this week, and I’m actually doing homework occasionally.

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Excusez-moi

I

Looking forward to a 11 hour flight, I keenly dropped into my seat on the plane besides a relatively big woman. She was incredibly rude, stealing my armrest and thus making me unable to use the remote to the in-flight entertainment without making her remove her arm first.

If that wasn’t irritating enough, the woman in the seat in front of my neighbor, who had both seats to herself decided that she should not only put the seat back in sleep position, but also set the seat in front of me in sleep position. As usual I didn’t say anything, trying to avoid confrontation, but after about one hour not being able to see the screen properly, amazingly enough I managed to tell her off.

Been having jet lag this week.

Some friends of mine are visiting, and I get to show them the way too boring city of Antibes.

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To live and die in LA

Booya!

Quite comfortably sitting at the Starbucks in Santa Monica after paying a taxi driver 50 bucks to get me out of the most scary neighborhood I ever been to. There I was, walking up and down the streets of Downtown LA, with my Samsonite trolley and my big North Face bag on my back among all the toothless crack addicts, drug dealers and whores(not that many whores, but I think I saw one at least).

I had little time before the Greyhound was leaving yesterday, so I decided to take a cab instead of walking. The driver didn’t know where the station was, but he found a bus central and dropped me off there. Of course, it was the completely wrong station, and I had to walk for 1/2 hour to get to the right one after that. This made me lose my bus, so I had to walk up and down Fremont street for 3 hours before the next one.

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Good girls gone bad, the city's filled with them

Gonna

I entered the Greyhound bound for Las Vegas on a warm, sunny Santa Barbara afternoon. Ahead of me was 9 hours of fun on this bus filled with strangers travelling mostly to an from Los Angeles.

In LA, we had to go through security to get on the bus. This was even more thorough than airport security. They told me that no alcohol was permitted on the bus, neither in the hand luggage nor the luggage underneath the bus, and confiscated my Captain Morgan that I’d bought to bring back to France. Awesome.

The percentage of poor Hispanics crowding the bus seats was definitely higher than that of rich, successful people, so I decided to watch Machete.

My seat buddy Juan was on his way to Denver to start a new job as a road worker. His sister lived in Las Vegas, but he never had time to visit her. He obviously loved her and wanted to make sure she was all right, because he gave me her business card and told me to contact her. I liked the guy, so I’m gonna check how she is today.

It was us two occupying three seats, and after some time there came a third fella and sat next to us. He sat there, looking very much like the typical Mexican in the back of a lorry trying to sneak into the US. F.ex. like in the beginning of Men in Black. He was a quiet guy, a little unsure about himself it looked like, always with a suppressed look in his eyes.

We were kinda squashed together, so when there was an open seat next to a black man, I quickly switched. He greeted me with: “What the fuck was wrong with the other seat you were sitting in?” This made for a wonderful relationship the next 4 hours until Vegas.

The air condition was broken on the bus, it was pumping hot air like a motherfucker, so the bus driver had to open the security hatches so that the heat wouldn’t make the ride even more unpleasant. The cold air even made a Norwegian like me cold, so I’ve seldom been more glad then when I saw the top of the Mandalay.

I jumped off the bus, trying to catch a cab. I was only going a couple of kilometers, so two taxi drivers ignored me when I told them where I was going. I just catched a friendly taxi driver, when the pleasant guy from the bus came over and apologized for being an asshole.

Now it’s morning in Las Vegas. I’m staying at the Stratosphere Casino Hotel. I should leave this king bed soon, and discover this town.

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This place is so cold!

Hvorfor

I entered the Greyhound bound for Las Vegas on a warm, sunny Santa Barbara afternoon. Ahead of me was 9 hours of fun on this bus filled with strangers travelling mostly to an from Los Angeles.

In LA, we had to go through security to get on the bus. This was even more thorough than airport security. They told me that no alcohol was permitted on the bus, neither in the hand luggage nor the luggage underneath the bus, and confiscated my Captain Morgan that I’d bought to bring back to France. Awesome.

The percentage of poor Hispanics crowding the bus seats was definitely higher than that of rich, successful people, so I decided to watch Machete.

My seat buddy Juan was on his way to Denver to start a new job as a road worker. His sister lived in Las Vegas, but he never had time to visit her. He obviously loved her and wanted to make sure she was all right, because he gave me her business card and told me to contact her. I liked the guy, so I’m gonna check how she is today.

It was us two occupying three seats, and after some time there came a third fella and sat next to us. He sat there, looking very much like the typical Mexican in the back of a lorry trying to sneak into the US. F.ex. like in the beginning of Men in Black. He was a quiet guy, a little unsure about himself it looked like, always with a suppressed look in his eyes.

We were kinda squashed together, so when there was an open seat next to a black man, I quickly switched. He greeted me with: “What the fuck was wrong with the other seat you were sitting in?” This made for a wonderful relationship the next 4 hours until Vegas.

The air condition was broken on the bus, it was pumping hot air like a motherfucker, so the bus driver had to open the security hatches so that the heat wouldn’t make the ride even more unpleasant. The cold air even made a Norwegian like me cold, so I’ve seldom been more glad then when I saw the top of the Mandalay.

I jumped off the bus, trying to catch a cab. I was only going a couple of kilometers, so two taxi drivers ignored me when I told them where I was going. I just catched a friendly taxi driver, when the pleasant guy from the bus came over and apologized for being an asshole.

Now it’s morning in Las Vegas. I’m staying at the Stratosphere Casino Hotel. I should leave this king bed soon, and discover this town.

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The Suburbs

Yeah,

Was just about to miss my flight yesterday. For a moment I regretted my choice to take the latest flight to Zurich instead of taking the earlier one and having good time.

No sleep on the 19 hour trip with a 13 hour flight to LAX, left me amazingly awake when I was met by my fellow Norwegians at the bus stop in Goleta.

Woke up early today. Sitting alone in the living room listening to the Californian rain.

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Balcon

2m

Had 5 exams and two project deliveries the last week. Not that I’m the one who has it worst, some Polish dude had 10, but this is still too much pressure for me. Slept 4 hours tonight before leaving for the airport.

I disembarked the bus at Passerelle, believing it was “Passerelle d’aeroport,” only to find that it was passerelle de gare, 15 minutes from the airport. Some morning exercise is always welcome for an A-person like myself.

Some of my classmates are leaving to apprehend new challenges. Hate saying goodbye to people I might never see again in my life.

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Des problems avec d'intégrité en cles publiques

Danse

But there is a solution. If you use authentication trees or public-key certification, you can be sure of the integrity. Perfect.

As the catholic priest said to the pig farmer: “Are these as tight as choir boys?”

Still, there’s no solution to the imminent problem of exams. Let’s just hope to god there’s a flood or something on it’s way, closing down the school for the exam period, forcing them to to pass us in every cource based on attendance. Whooopsie, that won’t help for me.

The sun is awesome today. Too bad I’m ginger and can’t go out.

I payed 1,70 worth of groceries today using only 1, 2 and 5 cents. Also, I payed the rent speaking only French. “Je veux payer mille-deux-soixante-dix pour la!” and showed the bank cashier the banking details of my landlord. According to Google Translate, this means “I want to pay seventy thousand two,” but I will trust my own French over GT.

She understood me, and obviously thought I was good at French, because she started rambling on about something. I didn’t understand, and I certainly didn’t care enough to try and understand her. I’m pretty sure I payed the correct amount in the end.

And in other news: I need a rolling pin.

Merci, au revoir, bon journee.

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Voulez-vous?

That's

There I was, walking down the street minding my own business, and suddenly I walked into a light pole. Luckily, noone was around to laugh at me. Of course, my mom always told me to watch where I’m going, so I should’ve know better.

After I sat down to get an overview of my account yesterday, I immediately went ahead to make a budget. Dinner today was onion soup, and tomorrow also. I’m gonna cut my living costs to 5.40€ a day. I feel like a polish guy.

Luckily then, I’m going to US for two weeks after exams. Everybody knows that travelling is cheap.

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Oui?

Porsche

Did you know that 48% of Facebook users between 18 and 35 check Facebook first thing in the morning? True story!

I am pretty sure I’m in that group. Most probably I haven’t gone one morning in 2011 where I had my first bite of breakfast before checking Facebook. Sad.

I took the bike to Monte Carlo the other day. When I arrived, I immediately ordered some lasagne. 50 minutes later, I still hadn’t gotten anything more than my drink, so I prepared to complain. The waiter didn’t speak English, I didn’t speak French, so I was unable to communicate my displeasure. From what I understood, he was still under the impression that all I ever ordered was a coke.

After I kicked him in the balls, kneed him in the nose and fried his face in the deep fryer he started to understand that he shouldn’t have fucked with a hungry man thinking he was gonna get lasagne. I left the place, not looking back at the explosions from the fire I started.

Exams are closing in.

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