Year evaluation

Few people know how fucked up I was during the first half of the year. If I told you what kinds of things that went on, you wouldn't believe me. Those experiences are best left buried.

On the other hand, the second half of this year has been the most amazing time of my life. I've accomplished many of my dreams. I consider myself incredibly lucky to know certain people - nothing feels better than having people who believe in you and what you do. Without those pushes I would just have been another lonely girl trapped in a non-English speaking country; it is very possible that I might would have gone emo. And I hate the emo style. So thank the devil that didn't happen.

Now I've had the chance to travel the world, visit the city of my heart, made new acquaintances for life. I get to do what I love to do, I get to be where I want to be, I get to practice my passion.

I met the man of my life. I love you Jamie, and I always will.

I've gone from someone who didn't see the value in anything, to enjoying the small things.
It's safe to say that I've never been happier than I am right now - and my only new years resolution is to make 2008 as good as 2007.

Happy New Year.

I'm gonna look like a fool if no one comments now

Okay, now when the year is creeping toward its own end - it's confession time. I'll confess embarrassing/geeky/perverty things. The main reason I do it is because no one ever reads this blog. No one who has the guts to comment (well, Shawn - once...) anyway. So I feel pretty safe to expose myself. Or this is just a sneaky tactic to get people to comment... and tell me how utterly dorky I am. Either way, here we go.

- I saw High School Musical this Christmas, and I loved it. It's almost an obsession now.
- I think Christopher Walken is smoking hot. Yeah, he's like 65 years old; but I just can't help myself.
- I've named all my electric belongings after people I like/look up to. Mobile: David, iPod: Jimmy, guitar: Shawn... (This is the part you think is flattering, or creepy.)
- I like making parody movies with my best friend. We've done "Miles Almighty", and "There's something about Juicy" is coming up... To a theater near you.
- Said friend and I have codenames for, basically, everyone. Like Wet-ass, the ADD-kid, Chris/Big Ben, Chris/Fatso, Golvmopp, to mention a few. (Yeah, we have a thing for the name Chris.)
- Now during Christmas times I sing Jingle Bells to my liquorice-loving Shawn-wannabe dog, but I change the lyrics to Jingle Balls. There's actually a reason for that... Maybe you can figure it out by yourself. Hint: not long ago doggie was only a pup...

This is deifinitely the most honest I've been in a blog post here. Cherish the moment while it lasts.
So go ahead: tell me I'm a geek/pervert/weirdo. At least I'm not a liar... Even if I over-use dots as it seems. And I've mentioned Shawn's name three times during this post... I usually only write his codename. Mwahahahah. Not saying what that is.
If you don't feel like bashing me (maybe you agree with me?) you could always confess your own guilty pleasures. It's a good thing you can be anonymous as a commenter... Right?

We are not wrong

And the need of completion has not been as dreading as I might have thought. Just proved, to myself, that the absence of my writing does not result in absence of mind. I've chosen reading instead of writing these last few days, since I'm determined to thick-skull myself through a 1000-page book within this year, in order to beat a Leg friend of mine. Even though I don't know his finishing time I'll be damned if I won't get through this book fast enough to at least threaten him.

Christmas is approaching. Yours truly has threaded popcorn on fabric strings to create some sort of old fashioned holiday decoration. At least it smells nice.

Also a fresh update is my addiction to an audio album. Traveled a long way, over the pond and all, to be possessed by me and cherished for the first time in its so far only industrial life as merely a product. Now it's so much more - it's a loophole, an escape route, a place where it doesn't really matter how things go. To say the least, music has always been freedom to me. And with the voice which sings the words of mind, I'm lost forever.

You can see it in my eyes

It's weird how I can have absolutely nothing to write about while at the same time my life has never been as exciting and fantastic as it is right now. I just appreciate all the people in my life who without question or further doubt help me and give me chance after chance even though we're both, probably, aware of the fact that I have done nothing of the sort to actually prove myself worthy of such kindness. Silently I plot on how to make it up to them, and in some way or another show my gratitude in a way that can't be mistaken. So watch out, one of these days I'll blow your mind away.

As said, it's weird how I don't really have anything to write about. Being hooked on the nasty blog phenomena for some time now, after several days of silence my fingers start to itch and I long for the completion of a story to display for friends miles away.

So what's so great? I enjoy the small things, such as newly discovered pictures that make me laugh, joyful messages from people I miss, framing photos to keep a memory. Everything is up for now, except for the absence of people being dear. That's a big downer. But motions fill their places, a temporary stand-in for their faces.

It's like being in love. Not loving the people, but the things you do and your expectations. The idea of a bright road ahead of you in life makes your head full of oniony emotions, such as hope. Which often leads to happiness. Even though I tend to resent hope - it can be a deceitful friend in quotes - I welcome happiness, and it's safe to say that I've never been happier. Mainly because I let myself be.

And the one thing that stands clear after such exposure as this, is the fact that you can create a whole blog post even if you go into the idea with a limited state of mind. Such as doubting your own ability of story-telling.

If you wanna fight us then, FIGHT US THEN!

Honey, I'm home. Back in ol' Sweden. Not too happy about that. These three days could might as well have been three weeks. I'm sore. But I had lots of fun.
Learned some new things: Ben is in fact not scary at all. He is probably one of the best persons I've ever met.
Emilee is small but she walks fast.
Jon is, according to Ben, the worst waker-upper ever. I believe him.
The same Jon has never heard the word "vespa", or drunk freshly squeezed orange juice - "It tastes like a real orange!" - or heard a Fergie song.
Apparently it's really hard for someone who speaks English to pronounce the "sju"-sound (number seven in Swedish). And the Scanish "r"-sound. Like in "klåfingrig".
It's illegal to shoot on the streets of London. But I knew that already.

I already miss my all-singing all-dancing friends. But I'll see them again in March. Until then I'll just have to watch all my footage. And update this blog. I guess.

Move bitch, get out of the way.

Talking to myself again

"Louie, how was your day?"

Ah, same old same old. Crammed into an editing room for what seemed to be another endless amount of hours listening to Roy Orbison (appy polly loggies; merely the Swedish wannabe). That man can't take high notes without starting really low. Which means he makes sounds suspiciously alike those he probably would have uttered if someone accidently stepped on his tail. Although he has no tail, so nothing could be stepped on. My point is... Well, you'd have to hear for yourself to understand where I'm going with this. And believe me, you wouldn't want that.

On an upside note, we've (me and my posse) managed to fall lightly in love with an old man. How wicked this might seem, we can't deny his charm and don't be affected by his adorable on-goings. Not only does he sing remarkably better than "Roy", but for an old man he can move more than what would have been expected (you notice that if you're trying to get close-ups while standing by the stage, and the oldie just won't stand still for more than 4 seconds). This manner is more entertaining than the plain and rather embarrassing fake guitar playing our friend in quotes Roy got going.

So yeah, how was my day? "Olyckan" got me through this day.
I'm in desperate need of confirmation. I know, I know. I'm a confirmation-whore. I'm the one who said it first, remember?

Destination: Nowhere Near

November 12th 2007: Three countries in one day. Sweden, Denmark, Great Britain. I rode cars, trains, airplanes and taxi cabs. On highways, over bridges, crossing water and borders. Heard the new languages.
November 13th 2007: Three countries, the same ones. Manchester, Copenhagen, Malmö and Tollarp, which is what we should call home. But we don't.
Paid a total of over a thousand dollars. For just one night.

This is what I do to stay alive.

I brist på annat

"In lack of other things to do."

I am terrifically bored at the moment. Brought the spacey screen to life, only to find out that all my shit is missing. Erased, deleted, you tell me. Gone. Natural process of starting over occured. With the memory I unfortunately have, it took yours truly some time to gather all the lingering flashbacks. But I believe that I got the most important so called belongings back in place.

I think I think too much.

I know.

Went trick or treating with my friends yesterday. If we didn't get any candy, we'd leave notes (written with Halloween make-up) in their letterboxes.

I have buried your pumpkin.

I have licked all your candy.

I have drunk all your milk.

I have all your Nirvana-albums.

I have your WC-duck.

You have slept in your bed.



I have patted your cat.

I know how much you weigh.

I know how much you earn.

I have poisoned your salad.

I have beaten up your carrot.

Guess where this note has been.

I know where your letterbox lives.

I know where you parked your shoes.

I ate your last crisp.

I know.

Scored a few chocolate bars and about 15 bucks.

Your friend says you're lesbian...

Starring in my friend's project film. Playing a lesbian who kills herself in the end. My suicide scene was shot three weeks ago, today it was time for the forest.

Slippery stones by a mountain. Wet leaves inside my shirt. Hurt my knee while stepping our of the car, so now it's swollen to about twice its normal size. Sitting on wet boulders, leaving marks on my ass. Dragging 10 kilos of camera equipment around while trying to survive in mud.

On the upside I got to kiss a girl. Score.
Yes, I am also a girl myself. That's why it's so brilliant.

Took the train home. The city smelled of french fries. Got one song in my head all day: Waste my life for you by Street to Nowhere.
There are spray painted illustrations of Napoleon Dynamite all across town. Has been for a while. Since I'm vegan, my motion picture teacher (yes, the one who looks like a bulldog with Pamela Anderson's hair - and yes, it's a he) always states I'm a "militant vegan" and accuses me of the spray painting. I tell him; I wish.

Why I tend to update this blog so frequently, I do not know. Beats me. Maybe it's my undying hope of someone to comment that keeps me going. In case you didn't notice - that was a hint.

This is what I've been up to

This is what it looks like when we record our TV show, EAC TV. Stands for "En Annan Christian" - "Another Christian" (the boy name, not the religious people).




This episode was called "Morgonstund" and handled the subject of styles.



And what the hell are they saying? What fucked up language is that? Yeah, they speak Swedish so you don't understand shit. But I figure it can be quite entertaining either way. If you're into that stuff, like yours truly.

Damn you, Roy Orbison

Yesterday was a long day.
I spent all afternoon rigging up video cameras and adjusting the settings on said camcorders. I was officially filming a performance by a Roy Orbison-impersonator, with secret guest: "Johnny Cash" - a guy who used to star as "Olyckan" ("the Accident" or "Bad luck" in Swedish) in a children's show back in the seventies, at the concert hall. Today I am. Really. Fucking. Tired.

The whole afternoon came off strange, since the feeling of hanging out with our motion picture teacher crashed upon us. Not the female who now have a crush on the lovely louse (you know who you are) after seeing him pantless, but our other motion picture teacher.
Let me tell you a little about said teacher. He looks like a bulldog with Pamela Anderson's hair. No joke.

Anywhore, the evening resulted in about 10 mini-DV tapes and a lot of "I can't walk anymore my back is killing me"-issues. I'm a sissy, I know.

Like a complete unknown

How does it feel? Like a rolling stone.

I'm having problems again - not relationship problems, not physical problems, or even mental problems (which would have been the most probable outcome) - but the worst kind of problems: technology problems.

This worked the last time I did it, so I'm just gonna go ahead and ask the air and hope for someone with knowledge to answer: Does anyone know an uploading site that will take large files? I have files desperately waiting to be outed, but since they're about 600-700 MB I simply can't find anywhere to display them. I would easily convert them into smaller format, but then the quality will suffer. And that would suck.

Come on now. I've been too neglected for my own good lately. I'm a confirmation-whore, I admit that. It's common knowledge. I'm already worried that certain people have died, don't make me worry about you too.

It's me you're waiting for

Watched the street lamps slowly one by one come to life. I have never done that before, and I have lived here forever.

One year ago I had nothing. Sure, I had had the pleasure of having done an ass-kicking radio interview, but that was it. I didn't have a future within that.

The last months have been exciting ones, to say the least. Maybe I'm fucked up and abnormal just because I find what I'm going through "exciting", while others my age would most likely think it's hell and be depressed of the not-knowingness. But I can't help it, I think it's damn exciting. It's my life. Damn right it's exciting.

Now I feel like I have a future. And it's the kind of future that I want, that I know I must have.

It's amazing how you can literally feel your life coming together - the puzzle is slowly taking the form of an abstract image. Your life.

Who doesn't fall for the lovely louse?

Due to the showings of my latest and best work in the motion picture world, I now fear? state? proudly announce? that the audience of this viewing has helplessly fallen in deep admiration of the starring crows.
The audience, which consisted of one being only, seemed to attach greatly to one specific male - the lovely louse. I suppose it is of some importance to mention that the person who viewed the piece of art (with that meant my film, not the louse, even if he certainly is lovely) is of the female gender. "So it's actually a straight crush. Not that I condemn a gay or a straight crush, I don't care." Words of wisdom spoken by the lovely louse.

Back to my point. The audience of one complimented the louse's shoes, and stated that she liked the music the crows were making. This I take pleasure in knowing, and I will not get into the matter of age since I somewhat fear to step on already sore toes. Even though my greatest fear is these toes kicking my ass, which would have come next.

My conclusion: I've managed to create a sparkle that is not often seen within the walls of editing rooms. Without direct intention I offered an eye candy of its own sort. I'm quite proud of the fact.

Glossary to simplify for those who are less used to my doings (which would be about everyone but myself, even though there is a slight chance that the flaming artists who this is about might put two and two together and realize the sudden likeness of themselves and these descriptions; as I do use the ones they've uttered themselves in the past - and their stumble in here is not as surprising as it might seem as it has happened before... Where was I?):

The audience of one - my motion picture teacher
The crows - a quartet with very good smashing-TV-talents
The lovely louse - also known as the lead singer, the radio mascot, kiwi fruit, liquorice, and my personal favorite; Wet-ass


Who will be the next one to fall for the lovely louse? Me? No, I'm marrying Jamie. I will not be mezmerized by the lack of pants on this louse. I think I made that perfectly clear when I threatened him to life due to some insignificant bloodshed in the past. I am committed to my merch guy.

As unbelievable and strange this all might be, I assure you - all I have written is true, with people who can back me up on it. So don't frame me yet.
I would love the reactions on this. It's been too long since I've had any external mention. Let me know that you're alive.

The passion of art, the art of passion

There's just so much out there. So much waiting to be told.
So many tales, so many outcomes, so many beginnings. So many characters, so many situations, so many relationships. Emotions and feelings put into pictures. Facial expressions. Perfect statements. Shivering actions.
Broken hearts, homes and bodies. Blood, tears, laughter, dreams and goals. Love, hate, fear, happiness, disbelief, confusion, hopelessness. Misery, passion, hope, joy, anger.
So much unsaid, so much that is untold, just waiting to be put into script, and visualized, and accompanied by music.
Angles, point of views, close-ups, inside out. Into head, mind, soul. Thoughts. Delivering the ultimate emotion - content, sad, hopeful. Leaving the fingerprint of a lifetime.

When I'm done with you, you will have changed. Hopefully for the better, and hopefully for life.
All I know is that neither one of us will be the same.

Is it just me, or have...?

Yesterday I killed myself. Well, the character I was portraying did. I "star" in one of my friends' senior project work - I play a lesbian who kills herself. Safe to say that is my dream role, to which I can relate more than other possibilities. Yes, really.

I don't really have anything more worthwhile to tell. Just found out that I woke up one hour too early and now I suddenly don't have to rush anymore. There's always an upside to everything.

I wanna see the new Tim Burton movie.

You ARE the lucky one

Today it's one year ago I interviewed Shawn Harris from The Matches, in their tour bus in Manchester. The first interview. The second one will be featured in the Warped Tour documentary. He wore pants in the first one. Not in the second one.

Thank you Shawn, you were and still are a good interview-victim. I know for a fact that lots of people all over the world have appreciated the interview.

For those of you who still haven't listened to it, visit our website www.freewebs.com/chucow and go to the archive. It's the Matches-special.

I can't leave without thanking Miles Hurwitz, the Wiz, for giving me the opportunity in the first place. Preparations for both the radio-interview and the Warped Tour-documentary were made with his help. Nothing would have been possible without him, and with risk of sounding awfully cheesy and oniony - I am, truly, forever grateful for all the help. I don't think he knows how much this has meant.

Thank you Miles, Shawn, and the rest of the band. Hopefully our journey doesn't end here.
See you in Manchester, the city of nostalgia.

They may be my own reasons, but they're still reasons nonetheless

A man from the dead is singing to me. Reaching out from the other side I meet him in the speakers.

I came to think of this man a few days ago, as an effect to the second comment on this blog all through history. I showed it to my friend Sarah, an attempt to test her skills and see if she would make any sense out of it, and she instantaneously bursted out: "Isn't a leotard what Freddie Mercury wore?"
~~

Yeah, this one-update-every-day is starting to annoy me. Eventually I will positively grow bored of it yet another time, if no more comments will be recieved. It was a one-hit-wonder the last time, and I somewhat doubt that the very much alive singer I once shared the stage with will take the time to peek in here again.

To anyone who is interested (I suspect a smaller group of scattered people not present), I can report that the documentary is coming together splendidly. I plan to be finished in time for the next encounter in November. To behold facial expressions is so much more fun than merely some positive/negative words on a screen.
Wish me luck.

Besides - you make no sense!

Yesterday, while sitting on the local transportation (otherwise known as the mellow yellow bus) , on my fare home, I saw a brown rabbit sitting on a limited piece of green grass by the curve of the hospital (the one where bodies go with physical difficulties, not the one where souls go with mental difficulties). Boxed in its own world it was munching away on the most natural thing; grass.

Today, while taking the same route to get to the same place, I see a brown rabbit sitting on the exact same spot as the one the day before. If it was in fact the same rabbit merely visiting the favorite diner of his/hers , or a cousin-rabbit, or if I had a genuine deja vú moment; I cannot tell.

While making my way home through rainy weather, crossing bridges of perhaps troubled water and risk getting run over by ignorant drivers using reverse, I find the solace by only the voices in my head, not always self-made. But that's a different story. And that was an unnecessary long sentence.
~~

The feeling I possess now can only be compared to being in love. But instead of a charming character as cause of this said state of mind, it is a product of art that covers my heart. You call me crazy for loving a flat thing, I call myself passionate about my work. Truth, which we can't escape, is that I feel lucky for the opportunities I've gained and handled with great respect. That is the cause of this rarely recognized emotion.
And, for the record, no one can ever accuse me of being disrespectful.

Whoever I was then, I can't ever be again.

Sometimes I wonder how I can be so loyal

I had half an entry all done about my scroller; it's insane. But I decided against it, my other self suddenly realized the utter lack of importance. Not that I reflect much in this soup, of any importance, on any occasion. But still. That was doubtfully unnecessary.

Aspired by the extraordinary, dress-loving (wearing them, yes) being who commented my last entry I'll pick the left line up for some undecided time. Thank you for the comment, which was well more than "bump". I won't go into the whole chapter about my brain's circuit during the comprehension; let's just leave it at thank you. Turned out you were my "air".

Staying on the subject (you people are not stupid, I don't have to explain the connection) I will post a little something I've treasured within the frames of my screen. Enjoy this exclusive material: soon enough it won't be exclusive anymore.

Oh what the hell, I'm too lazy to wait for the upload - I haven't had great experiences with uploads on here anyway - so, just follow the link if you're interested. If the words liquorice and armpits call to you, I recommend it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tq94dWmL4hM

I guess I have to go eat before my mom accuses me of being anorexic of some sort.

I'll live through it

Haven't updated in ages. Grew bored of the phenomena. Or just simply finding it unnecessary since obviously no one's reading anyway. If they are, people are not kind enough to comment. Bump would be fine.

Outspoken question to the air: Does anyone know exactly what a Master Use License is? I'm having trouble.

Reading through my previous posts, more and more clearly it anti-fades before me that this space has been exposed and somewhat hurt by my insanity. Love moves like a car crash. What can I say.
Upcoming faxing business to attend in a few days. I still have no clue what it is that's expected from me.

Tequila and puppies

Update:

After 10 tequila shots on Friday night, I am for now a nykterist; meaning sober. Struggling alcoholic, if you will. Recovering. While going pubbing in neighbourland's capital city Copenhagen no orders but water.

We're getting a new puppy next month. A black miniature schnauzer. His name is Lotus. Lotus will now be the prince of the household while our other dog Zac is still the king. The alpha male, or the gay pepper&salt known for his hots for Joel Madden. Kärt barn har många namn, as they say here.
Gotta run.

Cold showers, nailpolish x2 and age paranoia

Update:

We don't have any hot water so I have to shower cold.

I'm wearing two different nailpolishes and I never paint my nails otherwise.

It's my 18th birthday tomorrow, which means I become legal in my country.

Lack the sense of

Is anyone reading this?

Oh June, I've missed you so

Could you do me a favor?

Could you open the window so that the sun can shine on my hair?
Could you color the grass greener than it first was?
Could you wash away the sad feelings, due to dark nights and cold?
Promise me that you'll never bring back the dark nights
Promise me that you'll never let the cold in again

Could you chase away the hard winds?
Could you replace the curses with laughter?
Could you burn my knitted sweater, my socks of wool and the heavy boots?
Burn them all and let me forget them
I never want to see them again

Could you do me a favor?
Could you do this for me?

Could you give me the pleasure
of running away?
Could you walk with me?

Could you do me this favor?
Could you bring back all my memories
of summery times lost?

Could you make me happy
with merely a ray of sunshine?
with only a soft touch?

Could you do me this favor, June?

Signed drum stick

Don't you just love life.

Ego versus tedium

I'm not showing egocentric traits (well maybe I am), I'm merely suffering from boredom.

Result of a mixed feeling

I'm incredibly bored at this fragile moment. So it would appear, to me and to the what should be dear ones around me. More exact they're walking around the house as I write, as they are not with me in this softly orange colored room where these words appear on a spacey computer screen, as the following of weary fingers pressing black buttons.

Today my mission is to structure several questions, which is planned to be sent to a man at the top of his brilliance in life. This man has somewhat promised to answer them, and I can only hope it will be truthfully.
The man I'm delicately aspiring is no other than Dean Butterworth, now official drummer of Good Charlotte.
I would not mind assistance in my desperate making of subjects towards him. If you have the slightest idea of what your mind may want to get out of the whole situation, please leave a comment and let me know. I appreciate any suggestion. The reply from Dean will be carefully outspoken in one of our radio episodes, hopefully gracefully read by either myself or my partner in radio crime.

I would prefer to finish my task and have my wonderings sent by this weekend, since I'm meeting the great man face to face in the beginning of next week.


Something just flashed in front of my eyes. Throw a fit at me, the growing sentiment of alteration is enduring in my gut.
Change in some form is needed for continuous living with eyes open.

He's a wonderchild

I just found out I get an A- in math. Splendid news, I must allow myself to say so.

I cleaned out my wardrobe today. A lot of shit came out - off to Africa or such. "We waste no".

I visited my dear enemies the police today, to renew my passport. It expires in June, and I'm going to the states in August. Gigantic problem, so we fixed it. I look frightened by the blue spirits in the photographic reflection, and my vulnerable handwriting resembles more the one of a minor than I actually am at present. It did not come out as dim-witted, though.

"I never meant to hide anything
but I'll never tell the truth"

It's not your fault. Commit this to memory.


You might call me pathetic, but I just call me real. Can't you see the beauty?

Wouldn't it be great if everything would be alright?

I don't know what to make out of myself

I'm in school. Just thought I'd pop in and drop a few lines, not that I think a lot of you are reading my little broken blog. But anyway. I've got a lot of waiting to do. I'm burning a DVD I made about culture - I've edited together all my material from the two MCR concerts I've been to this year, into two little short films. So now I'm buring the whole project, which is the films, pictures, sound, facts about the band, graphics in the DVD-menu, and other mulitmedia thingies. It's taken forever, but now I'm finally done after already burning it once (some details had to be edited) - this copy I'm giving to my supervisors, while keeping the first defect one myself.

So now I'm waiting for it to finish - which will take about two hours. It's really slow. That's why I decided to pop in here. I'm getting quite fascinated about the whole blogging-phenomena. So far I've only post three, but that's much knowing the being of me. Updating routines are getting a hold of me. Holding tightly.

Holding tightly, let go lightly.

Peace out my fellow earthlings. Very possible I might illustrate the inner places of my pasta-curled mind soon again, for your enjoyment only.
Farewell, have a nice trip into the unknown.

Get this

So get this, I'm sitting here, reading Shawn's blog (the one and only) - when my computer crashes! It just drops dead in a second. Goes all black. Fucker. Well, it wasn't hard to push the button to get it started again. But still. Dying shit.

I went to Copenhagen today. And no - all of you who might think OMG that's like ages away! - remember, I live in sucky Sweden so it's about 2 hours on a train to get to another country, Denmark that is. Anyway, I bought two new hats. They're striped. Yay.

I've got about 8 minutes before I'm gonna go out and enter the streets to visit the graveyard. That's my favorite place around here. No, I'm not emo - fuck emo. I just like the graveyard.

7 minutes.

You don't have to tell me that I'm insane - I know that too well already. I'm the one who has to live with it every day.
"God might have slipped me a rufie." The person who recognizes that quote will comment this blog. Thanks (see, I'm polite too).


4 minutes. Good bye, good night.

Helluu beautiful beings

So, my first blog here. I'm very bad at updating blogs in general, I have to warn you. But oh well, I'll try.

I'm Louie, I'm from Scania (Sweden). I'll be 18 in a month. Oh pleasure of growing up/tragic of getting old.
I'm one part of Chucow Radio, a radio show on the net. Our official mascots are Shawn Harris and Justin SanSouci. Yes, for real. I wouldn't lie about such a thing. Mascots are serious things.

With risk of appearing egocentric I'll post a picture of myself, just to ease your troubles trying to figure out what face that goes with the words.

...

Okay, apparently the little image button doesn't work at the moment so you'll just have to continue wondering.

However, I might update in a near future just to please. We'll see, and hold your breath.

Peace out
//Louie