I am writing this in red, because it's important

I had an idea for the blog. It was so funny. It was so unbelievably funny. In fact it was so IMMENSELY funny that it made me realise I can’t do it. It would be the end of everything. If I posted this thing I could never top it and everything ever after would seem pointless because the height of humour had been reached and well, I would probably feel like my duty was done, and after that I would have to close the blog down.

Due to the character of the material I would release by uploading this post, I would probably also have to leave Aberdeen, almost certainly Europe in general, and just to be safe, change my identity and spend the rest of my life under the name of K. on a deserted island where no one would ever find me. I don’t know where that would be, and I am not sure how I could afford a ticket to go there either. And come to think of it, I don't know why I would have to call myself K. if the island was deserted and no one would ever find me anyway? I guess it’s not gonna happen…

I don’t even know why I am writing this. Probably just to remind and assure myself that the hypothetical blog post I am referring to must never be released. EVER.

Sorry about the lack of action, my excuse is pre-presentation stress.

As I have expressed here several times, my scalpels always seem to appear in my bed for some reason, or on the floor, sometimes in the kitchen, today however they were nowhere to be seen. I spent about half an hour to find one ( in a flower pot). This resulted in a bad mood and raised stress levels, then all of a sudden this little message appears on my skype chatt:

European and American women are too arrogant for you? Are you looking for a sweet lady that will be caring and understanding? Then you came to the right place- here you can find a Russian lady that will love you with all her heart. Can't find a queen to rule your heart? How about beautiful Russian ladies that have royal blood and royal look? Here you can find hundreds of portfolios of these fine women of any age for every taste. Please excuse us if you are not interested.

Someone must really know what I need.

There is nothing like a Russian prostitute of royal blood to calm your nerves.

This aint good.

I have spent the entire weekend in the flat. Working (ish) without being very productive and very much without being efficient.

I have had too much coffee and not enough company. I need fun! I need excitement!

Who's up for doing something FUN when the easter break starts?!

Come on! Let's DO SOMETHING!!!

(Anything involving Dunnottar or Waldorf is excluded)

Is it illegal to slip laxatives in other people's drinks?

If not, I think I will make it my new party trick.

In times like these where every second person seems to be in bed with a serious cold, it is important to stay healthy. I myself like to boost my immune system with a nutritious diet of red bull, ice cream and coffee.

It usually does the trick

Romantic morning

When I went to bed last night, I was prepared to wake up all alone. How wrong I was!

I opened my eyes this morning only to find Balsa lying next to me in bed, calm and quiet, gazing into my eyes.

Normally I would have Freaked out severely when waking up next to an unexpected bed companion, but since Balsa is model material I didn't mind....

I wonder how many nights we have shared a bed without my knowledge?

Sneaky Balsa.

So much room for activities!

Emma has left Aberdeen. The mourning is over. It was interrupted by the plumber at nine this morning…

Anyway, I am going through all of my possibilities. There is so much I can do! I could turn the flat into an after-dark prostitutional hot-spot, Jean would like that. I could breed monkeys. I could give dance classes in the spare room, passing on my skillz for smooth moves.

Or I could build a bunk bed and suddenly there would be so much room for activities!!

The possibilities are endless.

O2, Emma, Celine Dion, Cats and the end

It’s been a little quiet here, there are several reasons for that.

First of all; I was being deprived of my internet for almost 48 hours. Thank you O2.

“Your internet connection will be down for approximately 30 minutes while we carry out some maintenance work”-Hah! 30 minutes my ass! 30 minutes in cave man time, maybe…

(May I also add a little anecdote of how O2 screwed up my phone while upgrading the software, and then managed to lose it? It was apparently sent to me ten days ago, but it still hasn’t appeared and as a result I am stuck with a nokia 6021, from 1992 (ish) which doesn’t ring and so I have no alarm clock. I borrowed Emma’s but her alarm tone is so bloodcurdling that I can’t sleep of fear of waking up to it).

That brings us to Emma, the second reason I have not been very active. She is leaving early tomorrow and I am dreading that moment. (I am mourning). Without going into tear causing details, let me just say I will miss her a lot. I don’t want to come home to an empty flat every night. There are just so many disadvantages of living alone.

• I will have no one to blame for the dirty dishes.
• I have no ones alarm clock to borrow
• No one will listen to my burps which are really impressive (-Yes, I burp. It’s fashionable)
• No one will praise me for my cooking skillz (you guys don’t even leave a comment)
• No one is gonna get upset when I don’t put the toilet lid down
• Etc etc.

It is all very sad.

I try telling myself that I am a strong, young, independent woman, but what’s the point of being rebellious and independent by not putting the toilet lid down, when there is no one to notice? Huh? Go on, tell me!

There is no point in anything anymore.

I am sad. I am listening to Celine Dion. I hate Celine Dion. Okay that’s a lie. No one hates Celine Dion (apart from maybe her maid, and Mariah Carey). But I’d like to think that I am too cool to be listening to Cilly Dilly. This just proves how low I feel. *taking every chance to be melodramatic*.

This is it. This is where I loose it. I can just see myself coming home after Uni, turning on the shower and sitting down on the bathroom floor, still fully dressed, under the ice cold stream, while listening to Journey- small town girl (Emma’s favourite) for five hours (or until my monkey turns it off and brings me a cup of hot tequila). I will become the creepy lady on the second floor. I will never leave the flat and eventually I will be eaten by Alsatians (like in Bridget Jones) or, god forbid, - CATS. That would be dramatic. I tell you. When my lease runs out in May, the estate agent will open the door and find me on the floor in my dressing gown (I don’t own one but I might get one just for this), with a bunch of cats feasting on my corpse. The monkey will be long gone. Probably back in south India. She hates cats you know.

I am off. I need to see if a can get a hold of a bunch of stray cats.

Well done Johanna, I couldn't have made it better myself!

well thank you, Johanna.

model making

I really want to blog about something funny, but unfortunately I can't. cos I am making a model.

As you can see, I havent reached the stage where I use my master card, but I am practicing, hence the Boots card.

Pretty hardcore huh?

ps. this is the directors cut movie, there is also an extended version where I scream really loud at the end, but I really do scream VERY loud and well, I thought maybe it wasn't really necessary. I might release the extended version some other time....

Five things I dislike about Scotland

1. There is grit everywhere.

2. I get grit in my shoes.

3. I have grit in my apartment.

4. I haven’t slept in a week, because I fear I might wake up in grit.

5. There is no sunshine because of all the grit.

ps. the top-notch moment of this day (apart from granny's cake) was when Matthew asked me; "So, where you really in st Tropez this weekend?" <3

shutter island, shutter Ireland, fucker island, cookie island

Emma and I watched Shutter Island yesterday. It left scars in my soul.

Last night I had a horrible dream, I was the main protagonist in a twisted game where I was given complicated tasks to achieve, I struggled so hard to make it, to achieve every single challenge I was given, but the thing was; they weren’t actually physically possible. There was never a solution. Everyone knew, everyone but me and all around me people saw me struggle and fail, time after time. Everyone knew but no one said anything. Because it was all a game, and I was the amusement.

So when I woke up I felt slightly uncomfortable, to cheer myself up I thought I would make a movie. I would call it Shutter Ireland. It would involve a mental institution, Guinness, strong violence, inappropriate jokes and Woody Allen. I chuckled to myself for about two seconds, then I thought about all the lovely Irish people I have met, and I immediately regretted my thoughts, I have nothing against the Irish!

After a day in the studio, I thought I might make a movie after all. I will call it Fucker Island. It will be a psychological thriller which takes place in north east Scotland. A dark and twisted game where poor, unaware, young souls are being fooled, and where the penalty for failure will consequence in uncomfortable and unfavourable substantiation in their future CV.

But then! I came home and I found a parcel!

What could it be?!

A giant chunk of cocaine? Who on earth would send me coke?! I don’t do drugs, silly! (ps. True story)

I opened and I was DELIGHTED to find A CAKE! Not any cake, LINZER TORTE!!!! Which I love! My granny sent me one of her delicious home made cakes! Bless her!!! <3

So I thought I’d make an other movie, I’d call it Cookie Island....

Lol.

to be continued....

I have a juice craving.

or smoothie, possibly even milkshake, but preferably something fruity.

If you bring me some I will love you.

If you could also do my dishes while you are here I will consider marriage.

ps. brownie points for slurpees

SCRAP THAT.

I can see a new future now, and it doesn't involve ANYTHING related to architecture. Nothing whatsoever.

see into the future

If i drink really large amounts of Tequila, I can sometimes see into the future.

It is very useful really.

These are some of my quotes from a future interview I will do for DeZigne Magazine, Spring Issue 2030

“Frank Lloyd Wright… was that not the guy who dated Madonna?”

“Steel ruler? -haha! No, honey, I use my credit card for straight lines”

“Tervakoski paper, yeah... No, that was a long time ago, these days I draw on 125 gsm diamond sheets. I find the drawings come out much clearer.”

“Zaha who?”

“Herzog and de Meuron?! competition?! HAHAHAHAAAAAA! I eat boys like them for breakfast.”

Can't blog right now.

I am currently on a yacht in st Tropez, partying with Quentin Tarantino.

So long suckers!

have fun with your site investigations and section drawings

much love,

Jo

I have tequila on my bedside table,

Scalpels in my bed, and a spoon and lighter on the rim of my bathtub.

One could get excited about less.

(ps, true story)

MY DISH

I have always thought of a turkey drumstick as a lethal weapon. A little like this.

(I have to confess, I would LOVE to smack one in someone’s face. One day, before I die, I shall do it.)

I didn’t really know what else to do with it, but luckily I bumped into Anna and Alistair on my way home from the shop, and I was informed that turkey can be cooked as chicken!

This brought back some pleasant memories of crispy duck. I soon realised that I had gotten the poultry species mixed up; nevertheless I had my mind set on crispy duck and was determined to give it a go.

The result was AMAZING!

The flavour combinations are just perfect! Sweet, sour, salty, spicy, zingy, twangy, creamy, crunchy. The textures, the flavours and the smells just explode in your mind and, well it’s sensational, a gastronomic orgasm I daresay.

If you don’t try this, you are seriously stupid.

Grate two large garlic cloves, get a bunch of fresh lemon thyme, some salt chilli and olive oil and rub this onto the drumstick.

try to get some underneath the skin as well, this will give extra flavour to the meat. Now, leave it in the fridge for a couple of hours.

Put it in the oven 200 degrees for just over an hour. When the juices start to come out of the meat, use a spoon and pour it back over the drumstick to prevent it from going dry.

Take the meat out of the oven and let it cool down a bit. it should look something like this:

Make the sauce:

Grate a thumb-sized piece of ginger, half a red onion, and the skin of a lime. Mix this with three tablespoons of soy sauce, three tablespoons of sugar, the juice of half a lime and one passion fruit (alternatively you can use an orange or some mango if you prefer that), add a pinch of salt and chili and let the sauce simmer for a few minutes while you stir it.

Mix sour cream, garlic and salt in a separate bowl, this is the second sauce and its essential.

Cut cucumber, peppers and spring onion in thin, long pieces.

When this is done, cut the meat off the bone.

take your time to explore the anatomy of the turkey, which is rather fascinating

place the turkey strips in a pan together with two generous teaspoons of runny honey. Then you put the hob on full blast.

Fry til the meat is golden brown and crispy.

Now you warm a couple of tortillas in the microwave and add all of the goodies above!

Oh get a couple of endive salad leaves and chuck them in your wrap as well.

HOLY MOLY!

This dish is F*CKING amazing. And so simple!!! It makes me so excited i wanna run a few loops around the flat while screaming with joy and satisfaction.

seriously.

The best things in life are free. And mango.

Today I had sugar and caffeine for dinner.

It was the most delightful experience.

I danced for 4 straight hours while at the same time building a cardboard model and writing a children’s book in Swahili.

The model looks peculiar and I broke two glasses and a desk lamp in the event.

I hate that I just put my arm in glue.

I hate that I can't understand my own design unless I build a model of it

I hate cardboard

this is how i feel *points imaginary gun towards head*

Gifts

Thank you all very much for the birthday wishes!

I had a really nice day despite the lack of alcohol. My already marvellous birthday was further crowned by a few rather unusual gifts.

I will give you a juicy selection of some of the delights I had the honour of receiving;

• The first was an envelope containing: Polish currency, a band aid and a condom. I later got a clarification and description of how I am destined to travel to Poland, find the man of my dreams, buy his affection (this is where the condom comes in handy), and after this he will beat me up and this is where I use the band aid. Clear as tequila.
• I also received greetings from a family of eastern European origin, along with a request to visit me….
• My mother sent me cheese. (this isn’t actually as random as it seems considering I have been moaning about the poor cheese selection in the UK (mild cheddar, yellow cheddar, mature cheddar, strong mature cheddar, well you get the point…)
• When I got home today I had yet an other parcel waiting for me. From the London headquarters of the International Federation of Geishas, wishing me a happy birthday. It’s contents made me unbelievably happy since it was something I really really wanted but couldn’t afford. Thank you!

Thank you! My fondness of quirkiness knows no limits.

BURFDAY

YEEE-HAAA!

It’s ma burfday! I’m gonna party like it’s ma burfday!

No, actually I won’t. I partied enough to cover at least two birthdays this day last year.

I will get up to something really nice though so don’t you worry.

Now, since it is my day I thought it would be nice with a little tribute to myself.

I could easily write a complimentary post praising myself; after all, no one knows me as well as I do, but I feel like I do that almost every day anyway, and since it is MY day I don’t think I should have to do anything but lie in bed, drink champagne, eat lobster and think about how marvelous it is that I was born (while getting entertained and attended to, by a little exclusive group of Moroccan performers). So (sorry, lost track a little), I asked 3 people who also know me very well, to write a post each in my honour.

Here we go.

Happy birthday to myself! forever 21.

May I live for eternity!

PROSTITUTIONAL MAXOUT!!!!!!! (joking)

ANTONIA

She might be known as Johanna or Jo to you, but her whole name is actually

Anna Johanna Ingeborg Sofie.

Our parents gave us all four names each. Johanna was unfortunate enough to get Ingeborg in her assortment… (for those of you who aren't familiar with the name, it's pretty much the lamest thing you can name your daughter). It might be the reason she occasionally called herself Johan, insisting on being a boy. I have to admit, from looking at the photos she did almost pull it off. See for yourself.

Johanna is extremely impulsive; she will get really excited and worked up about something only to completely change her mind and give up within a short time span (it will be interesting to see how long this blog lasts). I remember once, probably about 12 years ago, Henrik had been skateboarding for a while and finally bought his own skateboard. Johanna thought it seemed soo cool and could of course not stand being left out of the coolness, so she also bought one, dressed in baggy jeans and attempted a few embarrassingly bad “tricks” (like keeping her balance). Then I think she fell off and I have never seen her on a skateboard ever since.

I could tell you a hundred stories of things we’ve done together, but it would take too long so I will give you a brief summary.

This might all sound a little kooky, and Johanna IS kooky. I am pretty kooky too and together we become mental, If the circumstances are right and we are in the mood. A few years ago (I don’t remember. ***drunk***), none of us could sleep, and so we decided (12 at night in the middle of the winter) to go down to the farm to cut some wood (???) we brought a flask of coffee (haha such losers). The cutting machine never started (it was probably too cold), but it didn’t really matter (we only did it for the sake of something unusual to do, we are both quite restless) so there we sat next to the dysfunctional wood cutter, looking at the stars and drinking coffee in the freezing cold. It made sense at the time. All of the things we get up to do (well maybe not the incident with the toilet brush, but I’ll leave that one out).

Last time Johanna was in Sweden, we had promised to help mum sort out her wardrobe. After about ten minutes we were bored out of our minds and had lost the will to live. Until we got to her 80’s fashion section! We started dressing up in the most horrendous 80-clothes. We had so much fun, while everyone else felt slightly uncomfortable when we ran around on the farm, with jeans up to our armpits and lipstick all over our faces, laughing like two psychopaths.

Nowadays when we don’t see each other very often, we communicate via Facebook. 50% of the time I am really bored and in 90% of those times, Johanna will encourage me to drink the vodka she has in her room, to get in the mood and make everything seem a little funnier than it actually is (which I have done a little now).

Lastly I thought I would tell you about our future plans (hope they will come true this summer). There are TWO things we want to accomplish in our lives.

1. We want to go to the tomato festival in Spain (this is basically just an excuse to slap tomatoes in random peoples faces)
2. We are going on a caravan camping trip. We are planning on borrowing an old shabby trailer, travelling to the lamest places in Sweden, wearing matching tracksuits and sandals, listening to tasteless music and speak loudly about uncomfortable things, basically just put on a massive trailer trash-show (I will inform you when tickets are on sale).

When we have done these two things we can die happy.

I LOVE YOU TWISTED SISTER!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Antonia

DIBS

An Ode to a Friend

This girl is a traveller, a wild bird floating free,

She soars above the clouds, and dives down to the sea.

This girl is an explorer, she conquers mountains high,

She follows the river south, then heads north to the sky.

This girl is a dreamer, embracing as she goes,

The story never-ending, the colour forever flows.

This girl is a balle, that’s Swedish for cock I believe,

She sets herself great challenges, and always does succeed.

This girl is a chef, she throws up an amazing meal,

You should try her tuna pasta, it’s out-of-this-world unreal.

This girl is a best friend; she loves, encourages and inspires,

She puts aside her own life, and for you has faith and admires.

This girl knows not her own beauty, absorbed in others but not herself,

No reliance upon fashion or fame, nor make-up, ego or wealth.

This girl is Johanna Grill, a dear friend in my heart,

Whose impact upon me never fades, even when miles apart.

BRUCE

A dear child, it is said, is known by many names.

Well. I don't suppose it makes any difference if the child in question initiated the use of these many names herself, right? Not many of you may know this, but I can reveal that Johanna Grill [I helped a little too] has a rich background in language invention.

Karsch
Ulvie
HM Countess of Pigeonbell [Kontessan af Dufvenbjallra]
HM Countess of Ulventail [Kontessan af Ulvfensvans]
Schala
Schala-ma-ling
Toodie
Phoona
Fanithza
Majsan
Darla
Jeanette
Schalie
Lick-Eve [Slick-Eva]
Karschel
The Old Woman
Ulv
Phoon
Ohana
Tood
Lord Fazil
Karsch
Lövie
Gwendolyn Fleetwood
Bruce
Tasstass
Nöti
Karschie
Truut/Truuti
Brucie
Phoonie
Toodel
Superkarsch
Gwenda
Snoodel
Count Olaf
...

This list could continue much further, trust me. Confused? Well then, your brain capacity is probably not well-developed enough to understand the depth of these linguistic advancements. I'm sorry. However if you are tempted please feel free to use any name from the above list [Slick-Eva excluded, that would be inappropriate] when addressing our mutual friend. Intuition is a key word here - whatever suits the mood is usually the best choice.

I can truly say that I am yet to encounter a creative mind quite like Miss Grill's - well, I strongly doubt that I ever will - and I would like to use this moment to briefly express my thankfulness for all the inspiration, mischievous adventures and out-of-breath laughter that this Old Lady of Excellence has brought into my life over the years.
May she have an the most delightful birthday!!!



With Super Love,

Bruce, who very much regrets his inability to leave the sunny side of the planet to join the upcoming celebrations which he trusts will be executed in the true spirit of Scottish alcoholism [of which he has many fond albeit dim memories]
<3

nuts

Eating nuts and raving about tomorrow.

Will upload a giant birthday-post in my honour.

Peace out.

Slap slap slap

Some of the things I eat are so disgusting, I just wanna slap myself a little for actually eating them. You know when you cant be bothered cooking something decent but you are sick of sandwiches and refuse to get a takeaway because it’s against the rules of your new lifestyle where you try to cut down on unnecessary expenses…

Anyway, today was one of those days. I get quite excited about mixing flavours, and thought it would be fun to see what would be the most exciting dish I could cook up with the least possible effort.

Canned beans, taco sauce, crème fraiche and parmesan, oh and a few crumbled oatcakes.

Don’t try this at home (or anywhere).

This combination is not meant to be.

your wish is my command (not really)

I have received a lot of emails from people asking for a photo of me eating mango.

The demand has been HUGE!

Anyway, here you go.

All to keep the crowd happy.

Youth

Considering the lack of grace and elegance in my appearance these days, it might be hard to imagine that I was once a dedicated equestrienne (female horse rider). But I was.

Together with Sofia, I brought life and action into the stables of 24 horses and about 15 anal and stuck up ladies who took their business waaay to serious.

The stables were of quite high standard and most of the horses were proposed for dressage competitions. Sofia competed a good deal too, but mainly in show jumping (hard core), I on the other hand hardly ever did. My passion lay in being a general pain in ass which I achieve with great results. Keep in mind that the time I am referring to is when I was at the age of about fourteen (all juvenile behaviour = justified). Sofia and I both went through a good deal of horses so there is no point in getting started on specific ones. They were all pretty wild and we often took them out in the woods, racing each other to a speed where we got tears in our eyes and couldn’t look where we were riding. We regularly got thrown off, and several times one of the horses would just run back home to the stables, with a sore and furious rider running after… anyway that is all boring. The fun stuff happened in the stables where we would frequently make a circus, to the great annoyance of every anal lady present. Sofia would for instance saddle me, and I had to crawl around carrying her on my back, while she took the opportunity to whip my ass (with a proper whip) with such force that I would scream loud enough to make every horse and lady jump high. We once got into a poo fight while mucking out. We started chasing each other and ended up wrestling in a box. I won the fight after pushing Fia’s head into a giant heap of horse shit, all the way through the poo and down to the concrete floor. This resulted in a broken tooth. Oh what a sweet victory. Man was I proud.

I don’t think a day passed without us making a scene or getting up to something inappropriate. I once baked a bread for all of the lovely (anal) ladies to enjoy. Only in the middle of the bread I had planted an old sock which had been lying around in the stables for ages. Imagine their delight when they realised what they had just been eating. Victory!

Ladies were not too amused.

I learned early how make the most of any situation, to be creative and to be a pain in the ass. See, I was destined for a career as an architect.

hangover remedies please!

mah.

I am knocked out.

How do I cure this hangover?

Any advice, suggestions, tips?

please help me. I am suffering.

sweet lies

What a good night!

Drank ridiculous amounts of tequila through the night, and felt absolutely nothing. I could even stand straight in my sky scraper-heels! So I thought that it would be a good idea to maybe drink some more. Then I suddenly got very drunk, within about 3 seconds. A few of us ended up at Emily’s flat, having shots (good idea), and I could feel my head spinning. Don’t really remember much but I know that I left (probably without saying bye, as this is how I normally behave when I drink). Andrea called me to see where I was (on my way home). I tried explaining that I wanted to sleep. (two drunk foreigners communicating over phone) I am tired. I am too old for this. I am turning 23 on Wednesday for God’s sake! (drama queen). I really don’t know why or how, but I ended up going to flux anyway, which turned out to be a great decision cos I sobered up and had a great time!

When I got too tired of dancing I started taking photos with frenzy. This random group of guys started posing and I thought it was great fun, snapping away. After about 50 photos they came up to me wondering if I was a professional photographer.

I saw the opportunity straight away. And I was obviously not going to let it pass.

Yes, I am in fact. My name is Inga, and I’m from Sweden (classic). I work for a famous music magazine called Flute (HAHAHA! I mean FLUTE?! I was under pressure I guess). I explained that I was working on an article and following the DJ on his tour. They were so impressed. I was so satisfied. I waved a little in his direction to assure them that we were indeed very good friends. He obviously didn’t notice me. I continued; Yeah, the DJ is actually Swedish you know. He is kind of like a national hero, so this is quite a big thing. After this I ran out of things to say, and bailed, with the promise that their photo would be in the article. I had no idea who this damn DJ was, I didn’t even know his name, and I am pretty sure he was NOT Swedish.

I on the other hand, am a famous DJ- photographer, travelling all over Europe lying my way to fame and fortune.

Fake it til you make it.

morning

Woke up with a slight indication that a headache might be joining me soon.

Killed it's chances with a liter of smoothie. Best remedy.

Now I am going through all of the photos from last night and remembering some of the shenanigans I told at a time where I should probably have been in bed rather than on a dance floor. I talk a lot of bullshit when I am drunk. <3

I am listening to "I will survive" and I have absolutely no idea why, I am probably still drunk.

I should go out more often.

Hola maracas!

Hola! Feliz Navidad!

de que una mamá caliente mexicano, vamos a la fiesta de baile luna!
perro muchos la bamba

muy maracas y el tequila a usted!

AaaaaRrrrrrrrriiiiiibaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Time for theme party!

I am totally psyched about this, the Mexican atmosphere (I have created in my mind) is bursting and engaging (you know; salsa, tequila and general passion-kinda style) and obviously I just couldn’t resist throwing together a little greeting based on my Spanish skills, which by the way according to my CV are excellent (fluent in Spanish)!

Ran it through google translator for those of you who aren’t quite up to standard when it comes to Spanish:

Hi! merry christmas!

That a Mexican hot mommy, let the moon dance party!
many dog la bamba

very maracas and tequila to you!

AaaaaRrrrrrrrriiiiiibaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Bon apetit.

La señorita del Grillo

ps. this is how high those heels are (suicide)!!!

*clever girl posing with shoes*

Prostitutional

Johanna

i might even wear my hair down

3:09pmLaura Jean

no way....

who are you and what have you done with jo?!?!

3:09pmJohanna

but i am not entirely sure yet. it might be a bit too much. i might not recognise myself and start behaving all prostitutional

3:09pmLaura Jean

but prostitutional is the way forward

its what its all about

3:10pmJohanna

but so it is!. you are right

forgive me

i am not yet fully accustomed to all of this prostituion

3:10pmLaura Jean

oh dont you worry

after a while you get used to it and it comes rather easily

3:11pmJohanna

hah!

a life style

3:11pmLaura Jean

i think you have great prostitutional potential

3:11pmJohanna

HAHA! omg. what a compliment. that is probably the nicest thing someone has ever told me.