Friday, September 29, 2006

I have my very own and personal Mrs. Robinsson. She's pushing 50 but she's still a very hot and passionate woman and I believe that every guy should be allowed his very own specimen. I met her ten years ago when I was in my early 20s and we still meet every 6 months or so for drinks and a couple of nights of no-strings-attached sex.

Anyway, my Mrs. R runs a quite successful modeling agency and this week by coincidence I met her while visiting a studio of a mutual friend where she was doing a casting for a female fashion underwear-peddling company.

Mrs R had arranged an impressive line-up of very talented young girls all hoping to land a contract with above mentioned fashion house. Maybe I'm getting old but, bar none, these girls were perhaps the most superficial and stupid bunch of women I've ever met. The constant name-dropping, the ubiquitous chatter about luxury fashion brands, the constant angst of not yet having received a VIP invitation to the MTV Music Awards in November. Man, these girls were between 18 and 22 and looking good was all they knew how to do, and being "somebody" or "with somebody" was all that mattered to them. Empty lives with no prospects beyond the age of 23 other than netting a rich husband and kicking back as a kept woman...

(OMG...I'm ranting about the youth...I'm starting to sound like my dad...)

Well, enough about hot young chicks with fit bodies and feather brains. I must now get in the shower so I'm all clean and fresh for when Mrs. R arrives in an hour.

Hope your week-end looks as exciting as mine:-)

JB

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Endeless hours

Work is extremely busy at the moment, but I'm hoping that things will calm a bit down later this week giving me more time to update my blog.

I have a lot of things to blog about, including some very funny e-mails I've received from semi-angry US citizens expressing their cranky attitudes towards my sometimes euro-centric and US-bashing entries. Some of these mails are involuntary funny and are contributing to strengthen the confidence in my suspicion that some Americans are a sad bunch of ignorant and uncultured people.

In other news:

- Spendt a nice week-end celebrating New Year (!) with a surprise visitor from London
- New colleauge that is utterly annoying
- Still got the work blues

JB

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Babysitting


Last week I was charged with the responsibility of looking after my 4 years old niece a couple of hours while my sister and her husband went to a funeral.
Not having any kids myself I'm not that comfortable around youngsters but at least I managed to sit her down with some A3s and a bunch of crayons. While she was sitting there and I went about the flat doing some chores I was having Frank Zappa playing on the stereo.
The particular album providing the musical backdrop to our activities was "Sheik Yerbouti" (say it out loud..) This choice of music turned out to be most unfortunate as the little toddler apparently enjoyed Franks friendly voice and was singing along (making the words up as she went along) to some of the catchier tunes.

The really, really bad thing was that apparently my niece is quite good at imitating and remembering sounds so when her parents picked her up later that afternoon she was joyfully singing "ram it, ram it, ram it, ram it up your poop chute" over and over again without understanding a word she was saying. Unfortunately my sister and her Aussie husband had no trouble decoding her mumblings and I had to explain what had transpired a couple of times before they at least pretended to forgive me.
Good thing I didn't tell them the title of that particular song: "Broken hearts are for assholes"


JB

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Naughty Meetings ?


This morning I had a meeting at a hotel on the fringe of the city centre. The meeting was held in the hotel conference centre and obviously other great companies were using their facilities as well. Running a bit late I was looking for my meeting room and in doing so I passed a room (door shut...) which had this sign on it...WTF is a Dilf? I wasn't born yesterday and I've surfed the web enough to know about M.I.L.Fs so In my filthy mind these Dilf guys must be up to something naughty. Any ideas? Maybe the D stands for "Dads"...?

(For the linguistic challenged: the sign says "Welcome to Dilf", see Danish is an easy language...)


JB

Friday, September 08, 2006

Amsterdoomed

Business travel comes with many perks but being chained in a the hotel room for work related things-that-cannot-wait-and shoud've-been-done-yesterday-anyway-reasons is definitely not one of them.

So here I am in the fair Dutch capital toiling and typing away on my keyboard trying to catch up on some emerging boss issues that demands attention. I should be taking long leisurely strolls by the canals and enjoying that I really don't have any work-related obligations before tomorrow morning where I'm supposed to staff the corporate booth at yet another industry tradeshow.

I know I should really dry my eyes and just get the job finished so I can join the gang of merry colleagues already putting their sobriety to the test at the hotel bar downing G&Ts like there's no tomorrow.

Amsterdam is a nice city. I call it a reverse-Paris, because in Amsterdam the natives are a cool bunch of laid-back people whereas the Parisians are in general just plain arrogant and snotty. Anyhow, I like Amsterdam, but every time I come here I'm amazed by the large number of foreign tourists roaming the streets drinking, shouting and gawking at the women in the windows.

The liberal Dutch attitude towards cannabis and prostitutes is somehow inspiring the tourists to abandon all forms of good behavior so they monkey about in an various advanced states of intoxication trying to annoy everybody and wreak havoc on the city while the natives are gaping spectators to all the hubbub.

Oh well, now pass the Kleenex, and I'll stop the whining and get back to work, so I can enjoy a bit of Amsterdam before the tourists turn it into an inebriated hellish inferno.

JB

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

No Relation

I share a rather rare and uncommon surname with a guy around my age who also happens to be a rising star in domestic Danish politics. This of course leads to all sorts of questions from friends, acquaintances and business people that I meet. Although only around 260 people has that surname I have absolutely no idea how we connect on the family tree.

It's kind of ironic that I should share name with a politician as in general I go out of my way not to be involved in politics at all. and I quite happily wander through life deftly avoiding anything connected even remotely to politicians or politics.

Generally speaking I have an extremely negative perception of politicians and of the work they do. Most of the time I wonder if they became politicians because they couldn't get a real job and I definitely don't subscribe to the often mentioned reasons people have for becoming politicians. It's always something about "fighting for justice", "giving back to the community" or "social consciousness" when politicians talk about what on earth possessed them to choose that particular line of work. All bollocks to me. I highly suspect that 99% of politicians are driven by big egos, an urge to seek confrontation and a strong desire to make the world conform to their own beliefs.
These are exactly the things that leads a politician to circumvent the truth and ignore facts whilst turning the blind eye to critical details.

Rant over.

JB

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

4x4

Most men would probably agree that a long legged hot blond in a fancy super car is an object of desire. I'm not going to dispute the fact that on occasion I've turned my head to enjoy a sight like that and I admit that chicks like that does provoke a certain physical response.
However, I will dare to make the claim that in certain cases a nice girl in a 4x4 can be an equally satisfying experience. Mind you, I'm not talking about those middle aged kept housewives driving around town in their brand new and shiny Chelsea tanks. No, give me a woman in a beat-up Land Rover and I'll show you a woman that radiates self confidence and class in a very erotic way.

Yes, I'm strange.

JB

Monday, September 04, 2006

On Art


Even for people who know me it often comes as a surprise that I have an artistic vein that although it runs deep and silent sometimes surfaces and demands attention. Not that any of my work is any good or very interesting to anybody but yours truly, but the thing is that I sometimes spend entire week-ends dabbling with photography and often end up fooling around in Photoshop creating some rather odd looking compositions.
To compensate for my utter lack of talent in this field I like to visit art galleries, browse the web or as I did just recently walk through the city and experience some of the street art that seems to appear on every corner these days.
Street art is very controversial, I know. Some of the self proclaimed artist are writing "cunt" or "art is not a crime" on what seems like just about every vertical surface. This is not art, and this will never be art. It is vandalism and the perpetrators deserve all the community service they can get.
On the other hand some people seem to use the public space to create a statement or to comment on society in a way that justifies the means. These guys are extremely rare, and walking through the city this week-end I unfortunately didn't see any of their work. All I saw was irrelevant doodles and tags done by juveniles. Copenhagen is indeed a poor city when it comes to street art.
I wish more street artists were like Banksy. This brilliant artist shrouded in mystery not only has the artistic skills required to convey his messages but every piece that he does is relevant and makes a point. You may not like his work and you may disagree with him, but his art demands attention in a way that's impossible to ignore, and being impossible to ignore is truly the hallmark of any great artist and separates the great from the mediocre.

JB