Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
It's over!
"Mart'n" is finally over. That local "beerfest" thing I told you about earlier, remember? And seeing as I live right smack in the middle of my tiny town, I can't help but notice that it's over. For over three days I've been hearing a thousand sounds coming through my windows, people chattering, cars, screams and yells from the amusement park, live music from three or four different stages scattered along the street, horns honking. But now? ... Nothing. Utter silence. And I don't like these sudden changes, I can't cope with them very well for some reason.
About 5 years ago I went to a music festival in Sweden, I stayed at the festival camp site and were constantly drunk. And even though you have a selective way of hearing and are able to block out most noises, your brain can't help but pick up on the fact that you haven't heard nothing but very loud music and people screaming, talking and laughing around you for almost four days. If you combine that with the fact that your completely broken after equally many days drunk, and that everything you own is covered in beer-sodden mud, the results can't be good. And the first thing I did when I was back in my apartment, was to sit down in my couch, listening to the silence, and proceed to completely break down. My body and mind just couldn't cope with that sudden transition from noise, music and lots of people to being along in my tiny little apartment listening to the deathly silence. I get this terrible feeling of being utterly lonely and alone.
But I do have to say that I had real fun this year. I had people coming over on Thursday and Friday, and we had a real nice time. The whole point of Mart'n is to go out to any of the 4-5 beer tents pitched up in town and talk to people, but this time I spent a total of an hour inside these tents - it was just more fun at home. I do wish I'd been in better shape last night so I could've gone out then and be a bit more sociable. But there's always next year.
About 5 years ago I went to a music festival in Sweden, I stayed at the festival camp site and were constantly drunk. And even though you have a selective way of hearing and are able to block out most noises, your brain can't help but pick up on the fact that you haven't heard nothing but very loud music and people screaming, talking and laughing around you for almost four days. If you combine that with the fact that your completely broken after equally many days drunk, and that everything you own is covered in beer-sodden mud, the results can't be good. And the first thing I did when I was back in my apartment, was to sit down in my couch, listening to the silence, and proceed to completely break down. My body and mind just couldn't cope with that sudden transition from noise, music and lots of people to being along in my tiny little apartment listening to the deathly silence. I get this terrible feeling of being utterly lonely and alone.
But I do have to say that I had real fun this year. I had people coming over on Thursday and Friday, and we had a real nice time. The whole point of Mart'n is to go out to any of the 4-5 beer tents pitched up in town and talk to people, but this time I spent a total of an hour inside these tents - it was just more fun at home. I do wish I'd been in better shape last night so I could've gone out then and be a bit more sociable. But there's always next year.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
I chickened out.
Yes, I admit, I chickened out. After some thought I decided that my body would not take another night of heavy alcohol consumption. But more importantly I don't think my psyche could've taken it. If I'd stretched it and gone out tonight, I'd wake up tomorrow really hungover, and as it progressed my mental state would crash into a ball of flames, and I'd get another day or two of heavy anxiety. At best. And considering how bad my anxiety has been the past weeks, I thought it best to stay in. So, instead of a noisy night full of alcohol and cigarettes, I've snuggled up in bed with my laptop, and will probably proceed to watch the rest of series 3 and 4 of Top Gear.
I'm getting to old for this shit..
This weekend is Mart'n. It's sort of a local festival type thing, there's music and beer everywhere, every store has a sale, there's an amusement park, and absolutely everyone is out in the street (yes, my town only has one long street), talking to people, eating barbecue food, drinking beer. You get the idea.
Needless to say that this is just an excuse for most of us to get very drunk. Three days in a row. And I have been drunk for the past two. Weirdly enough people have chosen to come to my place for a vorspiel, warming up to go out. And both night's I've gone out for 30 minutes, decided there are a lot of stupid drunk people around that I don't know, and we've gone back to my place. Which is very nice, having fun with people I know and love. But the downsides are many. Empty beer cans and bottles everywhere, cigarette ash covering the couch and the table, smelling like a brewery when you wake up, not being entirely sure where you've been the previous night or what you said to whoever you spoke with, the panic you feel when you can't find your wallet and think "oh god I lost it", the insane hunger you get for fatty, expensive junk food. You see where I'm going?
So of course, with my perfect sense of logic, I went outside today to get myself some of that greasy junkfood, and ended up with two beers for breakfast. I said that I wouldn't be able to handle another day of drinking, but right now it seems that I'll be doing it anyway. Cheers!
Needless to say that this is just an excuse for most of us to get very drunk. Three days in a row. And I have been drunk for the past two. Weirdly enough people have chosen to come to my place for a vorspiel, warming up to go out. And both night's I've gone out for 30 minutes, decided there are a lot of stupid drunk people around that I don't know, and we've gone back to my place. Which is very nice, having fun with people I know and love. But the downsides are many. Empty beer cans and bottles everywhere, cigarette ash covering the couch and the table, smelling like a brewery when you wake up, not being entirely sure where you've been the previous night or what you said to whoever you spoke with, the panic you feel when you can't find your wallet and think "oh god I lost it", the insane hunger you get for fatty, expensive junk food. You see where I'm going?
So of course, with my perfect sense of logic, I went outside today to get myself some of that greasy junkfood, and ended up with two beers for breakfast. I said that I wouldn't be able to handle another day of drinking, but right now it seems that I'll be doing it anyway. Cheers!
Friday, June 27, 2008
Urgh....
Last night I said the famous last words: "I'll just have a few beers, have a good time with my friend, take it easy, not get too drunk..." Well, I did have a good time, wonderful actually, but that was the only thing in that sentence that had any root in reality. Yes, I did it again. I got plastered.
Today I woke up with skateboard grip-tape on my bookshelf, a plant in one of those hanging flowerpots dangling from my curtain hangers (and I think we stole it) and lots of wierd stuff written on my calendar on the fridge. And a general feeling of shittyness otherwise known as a hungover of epic proportions.
And don't you come here with that "oh you did this to yourself"-rubbish! Do you go around to car accident victims who're paralyzed from the nose down and say "oh you did this to yourself"? No. The person was probably trying to get from point A to B, and might've had very bad luck, or run out of talent when it came to driving. Or he/she was driving a tiiiiny bit fast to try and spice up his life, which all people do. Same thing goes for drinking. I was trying to be social, which is as basic as getting from A to B, and during the evening I just run out of talent when it came to drinking. And I had way too much fun. Like the guy in the car probably had before the tree made him "suddenly go stationary". So, don't come here with that "oh it's self inflicted"-rubbish, because that's plain mean and evil!
Today I woke up with skateboard grip-tape on my bookshelf, a plant in one of those hanging flowerpots dangling from my curtain hangers (and I think we stole it) and lots of wierd stuff written on my calendar on the fridge. And a general feeling of shittyness otherwise known as a hungover of epic proportions.
And don't you come here with that "oh you did this to yourself"-rubbish! Do you go around to car accident victims who're paralyzed from the nose down and say "oh you did this to yourself"? No. The person was probably trying to get from point A to B, and might've had very bad luck, or run out of talent when it came to driving. Or he/she was driving a tiiiiny bit fast to try and spice up his life, which all people do. Same thing goes for drinking. I was trying to be social, which is as basic as getting from A to B, and during the evening I just run out of talent when it came to drinking. And I had way too much fun. Like the guy in the car probably had before the tree made him "suddenly go stationary". So, don't come here with that "oh it's self inflicted"-rubbish, because that's plain mean and evil!
What made me laugh today
Oversteer vs understeer - easily explained.
"Now, this is really quite simple, ok? Understeer works like this: [moving a model of a Ford Focus in a straight line] you drive down the road, turn the [steering] wheel, but the car goes straight on, crashes into a tree and you die. OVERsteer works like this: [moving a model of a BMW series 3] you drive down the same bit of road, turn the wheel, but the back of the car comes round like this [showing how the car fishtails 180 degrees], and you go off the road, crash into a tree and you die. Now, oversteer is best, because you don't see the tree that kills you."
James May on the 1953 Jaguar C-type racing at du Monde.
"So now we have the world's lairiest car, on the start line at the world's most gruelling endurance race. At the wheel is the world's most plastered racing driver. And guess what happened? He won."
Sorry, I'm being a bit of a Top Gear geek again. But it makes me laugh.
"Now, this is really quite simple, ok? Understeer works like this: [moving a model of a Ford Focus in a straight line] you drive down the road, turn the [steering] wheel, but the car goes straight on, crashes into a tree and you die. OVERsteer works like this: [moving a model of a BMW series 3] you drive down the same bit of road, turn the wheel, but the back of the car comes round like this [showing how the car fishtails 180 degrees], and you go off the road, crash into a tree and you die. Now, oversteer is best, because you don't see the tree that kills you."
James May on the 1953 Jaguar C-type racing at du Monde.
"So now we have the world's lairiest car, on the start line at the world's most gruelling endurance race. At the wheel is the world's most plastered racing driver. And guess what happened? He won."
Sorry, I'm being a bit of a Top Gear geek again. But it makes me laugh.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Advice of the day!
Spam rules!
No, I have not gone more bonkers then previously claimed. I have just found a new use for e-mail spam. Usually I never even glance at where these mails come from or what the subject says, but for some reason I did today. And what I read on the 2nd one really gave me a laugh.
Subject:
"Natural fertilizer for your cucumber."
Maybe it's just my humor. Maybe I'm just tired. Either way, I laughed out loud.
For those of you who didn't see the humor I'll try to explain: Spam mails are 99% of the times mails from people who claim they have the solution for those who want bigger... er.. willies. I thought that "nude carmen elektra pics xxx" would be more successful for luring people (men) into opening these spam mails, but apparently there are more blokes wandering around with complexes out there than I originally thought. And since more modern spam blockers try to stop emails with foul words like viagra or penis in them, spammers have to be clever. And this bloke had a real bright moment and thought up this line to bypass the blocker: "natural fertilizer for your cucumber".
So there you see. Spam are utterly rubbish, but they can give you a laugh. Just don't open them. That's me, giving utterly useless pieces of advice. Ambitious, but rubbish.
No, I have not gone more bonkers then previously claimed. I have just found a new use for e-mail spam. Usually I never even glance at where these mails come from or what the subject says, but for some reason I did today. And what I read on the 2nd one really gave me a laugh.
Subject:
"Natural fertilizer for your cucumber."
Maybe it's just my humor. Maybe I'm just tired. Either way, I laughed out loud.
For those of you who didn't see the humor I'll try to explain: Spam mails are 99% of the times mails from people who claim they have the solution for those who want bigger... er.. willies. I thought that "nude carmen elektra pics xxx" would be more successful for luring people (men) into opening these spam mails, but apparently there are more blokes wandering around with complexes out there than I originally thought. And since more modern spam blockers try to stop emails with foul words like viagra or penis in them, spammers have to be clever. And this bloke had a real bright moment and thought up this line to bypass the blocker: "natural fertilizer for your cucumber".
So there you see. Spam are utterly rubbish, but they can give you a laugh. Just don't open them. That's me, giving utterly useless pieces of advice. Ambitious, but rubbish.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Quote of the day.
"Speed has never killed anyone. Suddenly becoming stationary, that's what gets you, that's the killer."
Ofcourse it was said by Jeremy Clarkson, the man who has gone about most of his life shouting and asking for "more power".
I've had yet another useless day. I am having a real high level of anxiety these days - nothing new to me, but usually it builds up, I proceed to have a nervous meltdown of epic proportions, and then it just disappears. But this time it's completely different and constant, it's just not getting any better. So that's why I've spent most of my last week jumping between the telly, world of warcraft, audio books, music, Top Gear and surfing the net. Usually any of those things work; they distract me from myself, and lets me relax. At least for a good while. But now it's just stopped working, and I can't focus on anything. I just... fall out of it. "What did I just hear on that audio book?" *rewinds* I can't follow a train of thought that's more then one sentence long, and I can't do anything for more then 30 minutes at a time. The only thing that's remotely worked is Top Gear, but after over 4 seasons even that is loosing it's magic. Right now I'm not ambitious, I'm just rubbish.
Ofcourse it was said by Jeremy Clarkson, the man who has gone about most of his life shouting and asking for "more power".
I've had yet another useless day. I am having a real high level of anxiety these days - nothing new to me, but usually it builds up, I proceed to have a nervous meltdown of epic proportions, and then it just disappears. But this time it's completely different and constant, it's just not getting any better. So that's why I've spent most of my last week jumping between the telly, world of warcraft, audio books, music, Top Gear and surfing the net. Usually any of those things work; they distract me from myself, and lets me relax. At least for a good while. But now it's just stopped working, and I can't focus on anything. I just... fall out of it. "What did I just hear on that audio book?" *rewinds* I can't follow a train of thought that's more then one sentence long, and I can't do anything for more then 30 minutes at a time. The only thing that's remotely worked is Top Gear, but after over 4 seasons even that is loosing it's magic. Right now I'm not ambitious, I'm just rubbish.
Crikey!
For all of you wondering why I classify myself as "insane.. sort of", I can enlighten you. I was for a while ago diagnosed with a few minor personality disorders. Sounds more horrible than it is, I do not have eyes pointing in different directions (most of the time), I do not drool or bite, and I do not attempt to mow the lawn in mid-January. It just means I have bad periods and am generally a bit harassed by my own brain.
Due to Michael Moore we all know that the government of Norway buys you a trip to Mauritius if you feel a bit iffy. But today, as I went to the pharmacy to pick up my new dru-- I mean, medication, I got a wee bit of a shock. The exact medication the doctor had prescribed to me (which should last me about 3 months), would cost me about 2200 NOK, or €270! Oh, spiffing! Thankfully there is a cheaper version of the exact same medication produced by some other company, and if I picked those my prescription would fill out a bunch of complicated rules, and I didn't have to pay anything. Which is kinda neat. But I have to admit I was a bit sweaty before I found this out. "So this is my punishment for having a sadistic terrorist of a brain? Paying an arm and a leg for some stuff that might help? I bet I could get them cheaper in some back alley in Oslo!"
Due to Michael Moore we all know that the government of Norway buys you a trip to Mauritius if you feel a bit iffy. But today, as I went to the pharmacy to pick up my new dru-- I mean, medication, I got a wee bit of a shock. The exact medication the doctor had prescribed to me (which should last me about 3 months), would cost me about 2200 NOK, or €270! Oh, spiffing! Thankfully there is a cheaper version of the exact same medication produced by some other company, and if I picked those my prescription would fill out a bunch of complicated rules, and I didn't have to pay anything. Which is kinda neat. But I have to admit I was a bit sweaty before I found this out. "So this is my punishment for having a sadistic terrorist of a brain? Paying an arm and a leg for some stuff that might help? I bet I could get them cheaper in some back alley in Oslo!"
Me and the English language
I was told rather early that I had a knack for English. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I learned to read early, and then proceeded to steal my brother and sister's video cassettes and watched Jaws and other movies I probably shouldn't have seen at all at the age of 7 or 8. I'm convinced that I learned English by watching foreign movies subtitled in Norwegian. The past 5 years I've been reading books, watching movie's and tv-shows, and listening to audio books in English. And since I do still play World of Warcraft, I write (and occasionally talk) a lot in this language. Lately it's become so bad that my brain actually forms sentences in English which I then have to translate into Norwegian when talking to other people online. And since I've done nothing else but watch Top Gear the past week, my internal voice now sounds like a British middle-aged nutter who says "oh, cock" a lot.
But I do have some problems with the English language. Some specific words, actually. The first one I'd like to point out is "grin". To me, that act of "grinning" really doesn't sound like a friendly, happy smile. It sounds like what a dog does when it blot it's teeth, or when someones makes an angry face. It just doesn't sound happy!
Another one is "snogging". Just try the word out, slowly. "Snogging". This does -not- sound like the word to describe affectionate, passionate, long term kissing. It could be used as a .. threat. "Watch it or I'll snog your face off!". Or like a word used to describe jogging in snow. Snowjogging. Snogging. See? Logic.But it's not a romantic word.
I realize that it probably isn't the brightest idea to have a go at this particular language, since it's fairly popular and used by quite a few people. In my defense these are more specific, British words. And the words are just wrong. Replace them, please. Not that I think anyone would. But that's me, ambitious but rubbish.
But I do have some problems with the English language. Some specific words, actually. The first one I'd like to point out is "grin". To me, that act of "grinning" really doesn't sound like a friendly, happy smile. It sounds like what a dog does when it blot it's teeth, or when someones makes an angry face. It just doesn't sound happy!
Another one is "snogging". Just try the word out, slowly. "Snogging". This does -not- sound like the word to describe affectionate, passionate, long term kissing. It could be used as a .. threat. "Watch it or I'll snog your face off!". Or like a word used to describe jogging in snow. Snowjogging. Snogging. See? Logic.But it's not a romantic word.
I realize that it probably isn't the brightest idea to have a go at this particular language, since it's fairly popular and used by quite a few people. In my defense these are more specific, British words. And the words are just wrong. Replace them, please. Not that I think anyone would. But that's me, ambitious but rubbish.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Questions of the day:
To round off my first day back in the world of blogging, I have a few questions.
Can there possibly be a better job than being a librarian? Well, besides working in Top Gear, but that's a given. Shuffling around with your cuppa, tidying up a few jumbled books, sorting 300 cd's and take half of them home to listen to them, stamp some newspapers and shuffle home?
Why does the elevator in my building suddenly smell clean and fresh, like newly laundered clothes, when it's smelled like a well used suspensory since I moved in over two months ago?
Can there possibly be anything more annoying then having road work done next to your building?... For months!
And lastly, will I wake up tomorrow and find my livingroom and kitchen magically cleaned, tidied up, organized and hoovered like James May had gone berserk on ecstasy in it?
I know some of these questions have the answer "no" or even "hell no". But I ask anyway. That's me. Ambitious but rubbish.
Can there possibly be a better job than being a librarian? Well, besides working in Top Gear, but that's a given. Shuffling around with your cuppa, tidying up a few jumbled books, sorting 300 cd's and take half of them home to listen to them, stamp some newspapers and shuffle home?
Why does the elevator in my building suddenly smell clean and fresh, like newly laundered clothes, when it's smelled like a well used suspensory since I moved in over two months ago?
Can there possibly be anything more annoying then having road work done next to your building?... For months!
And lastly, will I wake up tomorrow and find my livingroom and kitchen magically cleaned, tidied up, organized and hoovered like James May had gone berserk on ecstasy in it?
I know some of these questions have the answer "no" or even "hell no". But I ask anyway. That's me. Ambitious but rubbish.
And...
... as proof of my obsession: I just realized what LastFM revealed to be my latest played tracks on iTunes: Part 1 of Richard Hammonds book "On the Edge" on audio book, a song named "No Cars Go" and the BodyRockers, supposedly Hammonds favorite driving song.
Oh, spiffing!
So, after a long, long period of silence, it's finally time for an update on my status of life.
These days I'm going through the wierdest sets of emotions I've ever experienced.
I'm bored out of my wits, suffer constant anxiety, barely manage to eat more then once or twice a day, and trying to distract myself from... well, me. My brain has gone into survival mode, and been through a thought process that went something like this: "Oh god, you are now so bored that I will make you go into a unhealthy obsession about Top Gear, just to save you from certain death by boredom." And there you have it; I've developed an obsession with Top Gear and Richard Hammond and have now I've watched over 3 seasons these past 4-5 days.
Me and obsessing isn't anything new, I tend to get one or two of these periods a year. Past subjects of my obsessiveness has been Michael Jackson, Lord of the Rings (and Elijah Wood), Harry Potter books, trying to learn the Elvish language, Viking age clothing, Depeche Mode (and Dave Gahan), and the latest - Top Gear.
It all started innocently enough with me discovering that I had season 8 hidden away on my external hard drive. "Ooh yay, something to watch when I get bored, which I am!" So I plowed through it in a couple of days, laughing myself to tears. 2 middle-aged and one short bloke cocking about, bickering and swearing in posh English is apparently my cup of tea. Disturbingly enough.
And somewhere during these 7 episodes my mind started to wander a bit. "That Hammond really doesn't hurt your eye, does he? And he's short, like me. And he's funny. And charming. And has really big puppy-eyes. And has sexy hands..." And there we are: I had managed to find someone new to obsess about IN the show I was already.. rather fond of. In the words of James May: "Permission to say oh, cock."
So - how and why can a 22 year old lass from Norway possibly be interested in a motoring show? Well, I blame my upbringing. My dad and brother owns a garage together, so I'm sort of used to being around cars. I've helped my brother (more like watched him, really) strip and rebuild a MGB and a VW Beetle (probably to the disgust of Clarkson, Hammond and May if they'd known about it or could be bothered to care). And consequently I feel that any family who owns less than 2 motor vehicles per person is weird. I can't say I know much about cars, or any sort of motor powered engine whatsoever, but I do think I might know more then the average 22 years old female. I know that a car having a V8 means that it has an engine with 8 sylinders originally placed in such a way that they formed a V shape, and that it is the only engine worth putting in anything. Sadly, my BMW doesn't have one. But I know where it's alternator is. I've learned that I'm not the only person in the world to name my car - Richard Hammond does it too ( I do love "Oliver"). I know that when your car makes that horrid screeching sound when it runs and/or starts up, you need to tighten your fanbelt. I can change my own tires and check that my car has enough oil and water, and I want to learn how to change the oil myself. ...But my brother won't let me. I know a rear wheel driven German car really isn't any good for anything during the winter besides practicing figure skating and giving me grey hairs at the age of 22. I know the difference between understeer and oversteer: if your car does a smaller turn then the actual road, it oversteers, if it does a wider one, it understeers . I actually know what WRC means (I went to watch Rally Norway), and I actually watched Petter Solberg win it in 2003, standing in my living room, waving my arms and being on the brink of tears. Oh, and I know one more thing, but this is probably more of an opinion: The 1967 Shelby GT 500 is sex on wheels. "Gone in 60 seconds" taught me that. - Enough showing off. Some of these tidbits of knowledge really isn't very useful, but not much of the information I've accumulated during the years actually are.
The other reason I can think of is the "3 blokes cocking around"-bit. My sister introduced me quite early to british humor in the form of Monty Python and Fawlty Towers. And I still to this day cannot see John Cleese without imagining him doing the Silly Walk, or see any member of the Monty Python without reliving the fish slapping dance in my head. So, from an early age I was taught to like middle aged British men who were aggressive, lacked all sense of logic and generally went about their day cocking about.
So, in short: I blame John Cleese and my brother and father's choice of careers for now being totally obsessed with Top Gear. Logical, innit?
These days I'm going through the wierdest sets of emotions I've ever experienced.
I'm bored out of my wits, suffer constant anxiety, barely manage to eat more then once or twice a day, and trying to distract myself from... well, me. My brain has gone into survival mode, and been through a thought process that went something like this: "Oh god, you are now so bored that I will make you go into a unhealthy obsession about Top Gear, just to save you from certain death by boredom." And there you have it; I've developed an obsession with Top Gear and Richard Hammond and have now I've watched over 3 seasons these past 4-5 days.
Me and obsessing isn't anything new, I tend to get one or two of these periods a year. Past subjects of my obsessiveness has been Michael Jackson, Lord of the Rings (and Elijah Wood), Harry Potter books, trying to learn the Elvish language, Viking age clothing, Depeche Mode (and Dave Gahan), and the latest - Top Gear.
It all started innocently enough with me discovering that I had season 8 hidden away on my external hard drive. "Ooh yay, something to watch when I get bored, which I am!" So I plowed through it in a couple of days, laughing myself to tears. 2 middle-aged and one short bloke cocking about, bickering and swearing in posh English is apparently my cup of tea. Disturbingly enough.
And somewhere during these 7 episodes my mind started to wander a bit. "That Hammond really doesn't hurt your eye, does he? And he's short, like me. And he's funny. And charming. And has really big puppy-eyes. And has sexy hands..." And there we are: I had managed to find someone new to obsess about IN the show I was already.. rather fond of. In the words of James May: "Permission to say oh, cock."
So - how and why can a 22 year old lass from Norway possibly be interested in a motoring show? Well, I blame my upbringing. My dad and brother owns a garage together, so I'm sort of used to being around cars. I've helped my brother (more like watched him, really) strip and rebuild a MGB and a VW Beetle (probably to the disgust of Clarkson, Hammond and May if they'd known about it or could be bothered to care). And consequently I feel that any family who owns less than 2 motor vehicles per person is weird. I can't say I know much about cars, or any sort of motor powered engine whatsoever, but I do think I might know more then the average 22 years old female. I know that a car having a V8 means that it has an engine with 8 sylinders originally placed in such a way that they formed a V shape, and that it is the only engine worth putting in anything. Sadly, my BMW doesn't have one. But I know where it's alternator is. I've learned that I'm not the only person in the world to name my car - Richard Hammond does it too ( I do love "Oliver"). I know that when your car makes that horrid screeching sound when it runs and/or starts up, you need to tighten your fanbelt. I can change my own tires and check that my car has enough oil and water, and I want to learn how to change the oil myself. ...But my brother won't let me. I know a rear wheel driven German car really isn't any good for anything during the winter besides practicing figure skating and giving me grey hairs at the age of 22. I know the difference between understeer and oversteer: if your car does a smaller turn then the actual road, it oversteers, if it does a wider one, it understeers . I actually know what WRC means (I went to watch Rally Norway), and I actually watched Petter Solberg win it in 2003, standing in my living room, waving my arms and being on the brink of tears. Oh, and I know one more thing, but this is probably more of an opinion: The 1967 Shelby GT 500 is sex on wheels. "Gone in 60 seconds" taught me that. - Enough showing off. Some of these tidbits of knowledge really isn't very useful, but not much of the information I've accumulated during the years actually are.
The other reason I can think of is the "3 blokes cocking around"-bit. My sister introduced me quite early to british humor in the form of Monty Python and Fawlty Towers. And I still to this day cannot see John Cleese without imagining him doing the Silly Walk, or see any member of the Monty Python without reliving the fish slapping dance in my head. So, from an early age I was taught to like middle aged British men who were aggressive, lacked all sense of logic and generally went about their day cocking about.
So, in short: I blame John Cleese and my brother and father's choice of careers for now being totally obsessed with Top Gear. Logical, innit?
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