<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615</id><updated>2012-02-09T16:01:51.475+01:00</updated><category term='Tomb Raider'/><category term='Prejudice'/><category term='Picking'/><category term='Party'/><category term='Conditioning'/><category term='McLeod&apos;s'/><category term='Stressed out mothers'/><category term='Frustration'/><category term='Relationships'/><category term='Hanging out'/><category term='Family'/><category term='Hudson and Lennox'/><category term='Economics'/><category term='Morphing'/><category term='Dogs'/><category term='Friends'/><category term='Lines on a paper'/><category term='Elton John'/><category term='Commitment'/><category term='Centaurs'/><category term='Loneliness'/><category term='Democracy'/><category term='Random Rants'/><category term='Being tired'/><category term='Future'/><category term='Consuming time'/><category term='Names'/><category term='Politics'/><category term='Sorrow'/><category term='Music and Movies and Books'/><category term='Games'/><category term='Trolls'/><category term='Slightly insulting'/><category term='Angels'/><category term='5th and 6th wheel'/><category term='Shopping'/><category term='IRC'/><category term='Bag haircuts'/><category term='History'/><category term='Alcohol'/><category term='Things'/><category term='Home'/><category term='Kladdkaka'/><category term='Morals'/><category term='Gilmore Girls'/><category term='School'/><category term='Holidays'/><category term='Tenta'/><category term='Roleplaying'/><category term='Creative ideas'/><category term='Quotes'/><category term='Joke'/><category term='Lighters'/><category term='Sleeping'/><category term='Piratpartiet'/><category term='Madness'/><category term='Exams'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Life and stuff'/><category term='Families'/><category term='Tentor'/><category term='Student councelors'/><category term='My to do list'/><category term='Dentists'/><category term='Selfesteem'/><category term='Fun'/><category term='Having fun'/><category term='Julkalender'/><category term='Blood'/><category term='Economy'/><category term='Computers'/><category term='Reactions'/><category term='Teasing'/><category term='Shiny and New'/><category term='Cats'/><category term='Electric Cars'/><category term='Comercials'/><category term='Trivia'/><category term='Beauty'/><category term='Update'/><category term='Patterns'/><category term='Ubuntu'/><category term='Celine Dion'/><category term='Wind'/><category term='Intimidation'/><category term='Longing'/><category term='Information'/><category term='Dreams'/><category term='General stuff'/><category term='Football'/><category term='Studying'/><title type='text'>Something Blue</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>172</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3724966323559791741</id><published>2012-02-09T03:21:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2012-02-09T03:29:25.653+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dogs are awesome!</title><content type='html'>Just started watching a documentary on SVT Play called "Hur blev de tama?". Apparently there are about 35.000 wild dogs on the streets of Moscow. This in itself is hardly remarkable, what is is that they ride the subway. Dogs are not allowed on the trains, but these wild ones have become so popular that they are tolerated and free to come and go as they please. So they spend their days in the city center, eating people's leftovers and whatever they are given, and then they ride the subway to the suburbs where they spend the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They seem to have learned to navigate the subway system by smell, looks and the names of the stations. They are wild, but not at all aggressive to people - don't bite the hand that feeds you style. They've also formed packs, and reverted to more wolf-like behaviors in that sense. This has led scientists to think that it was the wolves themselves that took the first steps towards domestication, not humans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, in any case: Dog's that use the subway network to expand their territories - how cool is that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3724966323559791741?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3724966323559791741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3724966323559791741&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3724966323559791741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3724966323559791741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2012/02/dogs-are-awesome.html' title='Dogs are awesome!'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-8020986865014479878</id><published>2012-02-04T00:25:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2012-02-04T00:27:56.156+01:00</updated><title type='text'>In Time</title><content type='html'>Cool concept, but they didn't really consider the consequences of having lifetime as a currency. Prime example: If a man is pointing a gun at you and saying "let me steal all your lifetime or I will shoot you" I'm PRETTY sure most people would try to grab the gun, since it's the exact equivalent of saying "let me kill you or I will shoot you"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-8020986865014479878?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/8020986865014479878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=8020986865014479878&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8020986865014479878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8020986865014479878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2012/02/in-time.html' title='In Time'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5428128491126782528</id><published>2012-01-30T01:10:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T01:12:18.226+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Games'/><title type='text'>DON'T STAND IN THE FIRE!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_x9kZ3uMf-o/TyXf_ZVZrzI/AAAAAAAAAN8/4yc6OfJuTNU/s1600/World%2Bof%2BWarcraft-01-29-2012%2B22-49-36.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_x9kZ3uMf-o/TyXf_ZVZrzI/AAAAAAAAAN8/4yc6OfJuTNU/s400/World%2Bof%2BWarcraft-01-29-2012%2B22-49-36.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703210783360003890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, it's not supposed to be that much fire, but you know how it is with pick-up groups...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5428128491126782528?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5428128491126782528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5428128491126782528&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5428128491126782528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5428128491126782528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2012/01/dont-stand-in-fire.html' title='DON&apos;T STAND IN THE FIRE!'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_x9kZ3uMf-o/TyXf_ZVZrzI/AAAAAAAAAN8/4yc6OfJuTNU/s72-c/World%2Bof%2BWarcraft-01-29-2012%2B22-49-36.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3971530403299705603</id><published>2012-01-19T13:11:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T13:17:49.763+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Witcher 2, again</title><content type='html'>After having played through the game again (to check out the other main story path) on Hard difficulty and a Mage talent build, I am considering trying the last talent tree: Alchemy, on yet a higher difficulty (the first time I played on Normal as a Swordsman).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is that the Alchemy tree seems more difficult to play in itself, but I might be wrong. And the difficulties available are:&lt;br /&gt;Insane: Enemies deal more damage than on Hard, and the game deletes your saves upon death. You die, you start over.&lt;br /&gt;Dark: The enemies are harder than Insane, but you can load earlier saves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling I will never be able to play through Dark difficulty as an alchemist. On the other hand I am &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;certain&lt;/span&gt; I won't be able to on Insane.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3971530403299705603?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3971530403299705603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3971530403299705603&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3971530403299705603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3971530403299705603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2012/01/witcher-2-again.html' title='The Witcher 2, again'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6612650146364129550</id><published>2012-01-10T12:46:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T12:48:10.615+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Games'/><title type='text'>The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings</title><content type='html'>This was an awesome game, but the learning curve was a bit odd. In my opinion it went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OdqlP-IdmVQ/TwwlZbhrD0I/AAAAAAAAANo/kHGG6BWnhgc/s1600/The%2BWitcher%2B2%2Blearning%2Bcurve.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OdqlP-IdmVQ/TwwlZbhrD0I/AAAAAAAAANo/kHGG6BWnhgc/s400/The%2BWitcher%2B2%2Blearning%2Bcurve.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695968747532783426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6612650146364129550?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6612650146364129550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6612650146364129550&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6612650146364129550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6612650146364129550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2012/01/witcher-2-assassins-of-kings.html' title='The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OdqlP-IdmVQ/TwwlZbhrD0I/AAAAAAAAANo/kHGG6BWnhgc/s72-c/The%2BWitcher%2B2%2Blearning%2Bcurve.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-8682280598997982394</id><published>2011-12-29T17:01:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-12-29T17:01:33.087+01:00</updated><title type='text'>COFFEE!!!</title><content type='html'>I have a percolator, fuck yeah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-8682280598997982394?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/8682280598997982394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=8682280598997982394&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8682280598997982394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8682280598997982394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/12/coffee.html' title='COFFEE!!!'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5255580848781996896</id><published>2011-12-21T15:29:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2011-12-21T15:32:13.629+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>LOL</title><content type='html'>*caugh*&lt;br /&gt;*caugh*&lt;br /&gt;Aheeem... Right. Wow. That was...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was watching alpine skiing on Eurosport, and suddenly they cut for commercials and there's one of the skiers, Maria Hoefl-Reisch, cuddling a purple cow costume (Milka mascot/logo). Looked creepy as hell. Germans. *sigh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5255580848781996896?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5255580848781996896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5255580848781996896&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5255580848781996896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5255580848781996896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/12/lol.html' title='LOL'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3778419160930135911</id><published>2011-12-19T21:31:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T21:45:35.180+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ubuntu and Me</title><content type='html'>As I told Rik earlier today, I always end up installing the latest version of Ubuntu on the nearest accessible laptop when left without any better activity for a few days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This usually starts by a long and frustrating struggle to actually manage to install it at all. This time however, it was strangely compliant. I had a brief hickup when creating the bootable USB that was easily solved by just reformatting it from NTFS to FAT32.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing that happens is that I get impressed by the built-in smartness like the all-inclusive instant messaging service. Why I continue to get surprised by it every time I encounter Ubuntu I do not know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next step is to get VLC and watch a movie from my Windows files - works like a charm, closely followed by a bitTorrent client...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now I start realizing that the browser I'm using is Firefox, which prompts me to start looking for add-ons. After a few minutes trying to find an add-on that imitates one of Opera's standard features I somewhat sheepishly realize that there is indeed a Linux version of Opera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is when the fun begins. Downloading Opera is easy as pie. Installing it - not so much (for a Windows noob like myself). Double clicking the package actually does produce an attempt by the OS to install it, but it invariably fails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I google "how to install a .deb file in ubuntu" and find an answer going somewhere along the lines "type X in command prompt". Easy enough...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..."how to open command prompt in Ubuntu" produces the following instructions: The easiest way to open the Terminal is to use the 'search' function on the dash. Or you can click on the 'More Apps' button, click on the 'See more results' by the installed section, and find it in that list of applications. A third way, available after you click on the 'More Apps' button, is to go to the search bar, and see that the far right end of it says 'All Applications'. You then click on that, and you'll see the full list. Then you can go to Accessories &gt; Terminal after that. So, the methods in Unity are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dash -&gt; Search for Terminal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dash -&gt; More Apps -&gt; 'See More Results' -&gt; Terminal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dash -&gt; More Apps -&gt; Accessories -&gt; Terminal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyboard Shortcut: Ctl + Alt + T&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decide to use the keyboard shortcut. It works. 'Nuff said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps. The installation command failed though. Trying the other type of package that Opera provided. Ds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3778419160930135911?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3778419160930135911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3778419160930135911&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3778419160930135911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3778419160930135911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/12/ubuntu-and-me.html' title='Ubuntu and Me'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6009910758944695432</id><published>2011-12-18T21:42:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T21:52:00.422+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday Special - How to keep yourself entertained in the company of your family for 2 weeks</title><content type='html'>Starting out by watching Bad Teacher yesterday might have been a fatal error on my behalf. As I started looking through my hoard of movies to see I suddenly realize they're all very dark and depressing. All of them excellent views (I hope, at least that's why I brought these specific ones) but nothing that is just lightweight and fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that my holiday at home took a dark turn right away, with one man being beaten to death in the middle of the street and another one shot in the chest 12 hours later. Suddenly my quiet little home town is on par with the big bad city of Uppsala in crime rate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also concluded once and for all that my computer is indeed not capable of running WoW. Or well, if I set all the graphics settings to minimum and make sure to avoid major cities I can chat with my guild. Always something I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if you excuse me I'm going to watch a movie about a man who died in a violent car crash.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6009910758944695432?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6009910758944695432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6009910758944695432&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6009910758944695432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6009910758944695432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/12/holiday-special-how-to-keep-yourself.html' title='Holiday Special - How to keep yourself entertained in the company of your family for 2 weeks'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-277352770078895458</id><published>2011-11-22T03:57:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-11-22T04:06:06.173+01:00</updated><title type='text'>OK, I am convinced</title><content type='html'>First of all, check out this &lt;a href="http://xkcd.com/980/"&gt;xkcd&lt;/a&gt; if you haven't already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing that struck me was the sheer amount of time he's put into this thing! That is the most extensive Angry Letter I have ever seen. My interpretation of it is that it is an argument for the Occupy Wallstreet movement. And he's made a very good point. Unfortunately I'm not so sure the people on that top 10 list would give up their riches in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brain lost the concept of scale after the thousands chart. After that it just gets ridiculous. After some contemplation I am now a communist. Market economy has got to be the most stupid invention in the history of mankind. We need to revert to plan economy, preferably yesterday, or we'll all end up like Greece.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-277352770078895458?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/277352770078895458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=277352770078895458&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/277352770078895458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/277352770078895458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/11/ok-i-am-convinced.html' title='OK, I am convinced'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5709765459601594302</id><published>2011-11-18T01:31:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T01:32:52.038+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ronery</title><content type='html'>I am a Skyrim widow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5709765459601594302?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5709765459601594302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5709765459601594302&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5709765459601594302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5709765459601594302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/11/ronery.html' title='Ronery'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6881312368479054167</id><published>2011-09-06T14:41:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2011-09-06T15:00:45.736+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Games'/><title type='text'>Retail games</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking a lot lately about how physical copies of games are just being phased put, because the pro list usually ends up shorter than the one for digital downloads. I'm sure we've all gone through that in our heads at some point, so let's not dwell on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm wondering is why do they not sell games on USB-sticks? Seriously! There are sooo many advantages to this, here's a few that I've thought about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) There are virtually no games these days that need to be installed. Most of the installation is just about unpacking the files and adding a couple of registry entries, and create a shortcut on the desktop. If the game was sold on a USB-stick it would be pre-installed, and the "installation" would take only a few seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) As a result, the game occupies no space on your harddrive. none. and you will never have to experience that feeling of wanting to play an old game you haven't touched for 2 years - only to realize it's no longer installed. best case scenario you have the disc and it'll only take a few minutes to install. worst case scenario it's a digital download, and will take 1-2 hours to download and install. yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) The savegames are ALWAYS there, where you want them. when you want them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) you can bring your favourite game to a friend and play there without hazzle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) copy protection of discs rarely work anyhow, and with most new games requiring an internet connection and registration on some account the copy-right issue is not relevant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There used to be technological problems with this - the game would simply be too expensive - but I can't see that being an issue any longer. A 16GB USB memory costs about 200kr nowadays, and that's when the store wants to make a profit of it. The actual cost of the materials and the production are a lot less. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the usb is kinda slow, but with 3.0 coming along that won't be an issue either. it's probably a bit more expensive, granted, but I'm not even sure you need 3.0... PCs nowadays have so much memory that they can load the files far in advance and store them in the RAM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But most importantly (for retailers at least) this is pretty much the only thing that would convince me to cough up those extra hundreds for a physical copy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6881312368479054167?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6881312368479054167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6881312368479054167&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6881312368479054167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6881312368479054167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/09/retail-games.html' title='Retail games'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3003893785850831585</id><published>2011-07-15T01:15:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-07-15T01:24:57.540+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Hedgehog</title><content type='html'>I wish I had brought a camera when walking Harley tonight. We were walking along a gravel path and some 20 m ahead I see something small moving. After a few seconds I realize it's a hedgehog. Harley's previous reactions to hedgehogs made me very worried about the situation, so I stop when Harley spots it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He reacts by lying down, much like when he sees a poodle or something of similarly diminutive size. The hedgehog meanwhile keeps on walking along the path, straight towards us! It seemed completely unconcerned about the huge dog and human up ahead. It gets closer and closer and I'm anticipating Harley's inevitable launch towards it, but it doesn't happen. Finally, when the hedgehog is right beside us it seems to realize the dangerous situation and goes into defensive stance. Harley still haven't moved, other than turning his head to follow it's movement very carefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few seconds, when nothing happens, the hedgehog very carefully tried to move forward again, and that's when Harley has finally had enough. So I yell a bit at him and slaps his nose to really get my point across: you may NOT eat hedgehogs! And then we go our separate ways. Me and Harley towards the dog pen, and the hedgehog resumes it's evening stroll.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3003893785850831585?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3003893785850831585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3003893785850831585&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3003893785850831585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3003893785850831585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/07/hedgehog.html' title='Hedgehog'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-7640557113864223526</id><published>2011-07-04T18:37:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T18:39:16.410+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Paintings</title><content type='html'>Now, the're raging on about Monet on TV. His paintings are nice and all, but no more than Carl Larsson, who's style I prefer a lot. But Anders Zorn was whicked good at painting &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sommarn%C3%B6je_(1886),_akvarell_av_Anders_Zorn.jpg"&gt;water&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-7640557113864223526?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/7640557113864223526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=7640557113864223526&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7640557113864223526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7640557113864223526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/07/paintings.html' title='Paintings'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-7688442779846778965</id><published>2011-04-03T19:43:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T19:44:49.985+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Screenshot</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wV_ml3tX8GM/TZiyBLUv-VI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/aL2BUdnTPfc/s1600/WoWScrnShot_032811_193513.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wV_ml3tX8GM/TZiyBLUv-VI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/aL2BUdnTPfc/s400/WoWScrnShot_032811_193513.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591414670669904210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-7688442779846778965?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/7688442779846778965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=7688442779846778965&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7688442779846778965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7688442779846778965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/04/screenshot.html' title='Screenshot'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wV_ml3tX8GM/TZiyBLUv-VI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/aL2BUdnTPfc/s72-c/WoWScrnShot_032811_193513.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-1253263330314135597</id><published>2011-03-27T18:43:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T18:43:56.220+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Poem to a Cat</title><content type='html'>I thefted a Cat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't know where he was at&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, he wasn't wearing a hat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of a Cat is that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-1253263330314135597?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/1253263330314135597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=1253263330314135597&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1253263330314135597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1253263330314135597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/03/poem-to-cat.html' title='Poem to a Cat'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4699911600619167429</id><published>2011-02-26T23:50:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T23:57:26.749+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bring on the Song</title><content type='html'>Susan Enan rocks. Well, I suppose "rock" is not the best descriptor of her music, but still... In any case, with a little luck and some help from you guys I might be able to get her to come to Uppsala and play a house concert. Yes, you heard me. She would be playing unplugged in my living room. For this to happen I need to be able to bring about 20 people who are willing to donate a mere 10 euro to her, that's how she finances her house concert tour. So go &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/susanenan/music"&gt;check her music out&lt;/a&gt; and ask around. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I would be so sad to miss it because I don't have enough friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps. My favourite songs are &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Bird&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Bring on the Wonder&lt;/span&gt; Ds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4699911600619167429?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4699911600619167429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4699911600619167429&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4699911600619167429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4699911600619167429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/02/bring-on-song.html' title='Bring on the Song'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-8022307236705599886</id><published>2011-02-24T19:23:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-02-24T19:28:54.126+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Christopher Lee</title><content type='html'>Just to further prove that there is nothing he &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;hasn't&lt;/span&gt; played, I just found out that he plays Kato in Mio, min Mio... Which, btw, was a co-production of Sweden, Norway and the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Soviet Union&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-8022307236705599886?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/8022307236705599886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=8022307236705599886&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8022307236705599886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8022307236705599886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/02/christopher-lee.html' title='Christopher Lee'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6714200822825321191</id><published>2011-02-09T05:08:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T22:27:48.490+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotes'/><title type='text'>Top Gear</title><content type='html'>"I don't mind if cyclists wanna come on the road with their silly Victorian distractions - I'm not bothered ok - but they &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;must&lt;/span&gt; behave themselves."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6714200822825321191?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6714200822825321191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6714200822825321191&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6714200822825321191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6714200822825321191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/02/top-gear.html' title='Top Gear'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5711867214699111404</id><published>2011-02-07T04:20:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T04:21:47.517+01:00</updated><title type='text'>British</title><content type='html'>"Old Chap" is the cutest euphemism for penis I have ever heard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5711867214699111404?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5711867214699111404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5711867214699111404&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5711867214699111404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5711867214699111404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/02/british.html' title='British'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-8901678027926077337</id><published>2011-01-06T03:26:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T03:31:07.768+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Best TV show ever</title><content type='html'>So I've been watching &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Så mycket bättre&lt;/span&gt; and I have to say that it's the best TV show I've seen in... I've never seen anything better.&lt;br /&gt;So far the best episode was number 3, where everyone did Petter's songs. Obviously the scale is different, but it's like watching Tina Turner, Rihanna, Bruce Springsteen and I dunno, George Michael making covers of Jay-Z's songs. Strange, unexpected and very, very good!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-8901678027926077337?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/8901678027926077337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=8901678027926077337&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8901678027926077337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8901678027926077337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2011/01/best-tv-show-ever.html' title='Best TV show ever'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3062483341011790809</id><published>2010-12-22T11:33:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T12:02:07.662+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Home</title><content type='html'>There is something infinitely charming about small local newspapers. Todays front side headline reads something like: &lt;br /&gt;Something good might happen in Nowhereville soon.&lt;br /&gt;It brings you down to earth and reminds you that life is, for the most part, just as boring as yours is right now. Somehow reassuring, and a bit of a universal ego-boost. Somewhere in the world there is always someone who will be impressed by your achievements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While riding the train towards my ancient home I looked at my jacket sleeve and for the first time reflected over the words that were printed there "exodus 5,000" O.o What an odd thing to put on a winter jacket, I thought. I instantly texted several of my friends, who helpfully commented that "at least it's not a bible verse" and "it is obviously an encouragement to emigrate to warmer lands". The brand of the jacket in question is McKINLEY, named after the highest mountain in north america and they also use the outline of the mountain as their logo. Apart from being the highest mountain in north america, it is also famous for its extremely cold weather, even by Alaskan standards. The natives aptly named the mountain Denali (the big one) but some dude renamed it Mount McKinley in support of a US President candidate...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously nothing of this tells me anything about why they decided to reference biblical history. Considering the current weather, -20° and 80% humidity (a.i. Cold as Hell), I am inclined to agree with Rik's interpretation: "If you have to wear this to go outside it is too damn cold and you should emigrate to someplace warmer."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3062483341011790809?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3062483341011790809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3062483341011790809&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3062483341011790809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3062483341011790809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/12/home.html' title='Home'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-621374472603941206</id><published>2010-12-12T05:04:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T05:35:42.182+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreams'/><title type='text'>A Terrible Prospect</title><content type='html'>I am walking along the highway from the neighboring city towards my hometown, a good 20 kilometer walk. But I don't mind the walk - I have the company of Jax, a dog belonging to friends of the family. I find myself wondering why I am walking on the highway, rather than the much less annoying and much more safe old railway that has been converted into a paved bike road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come to a place where there is a deep ravine down to a small stream that passes under the road, right outside the huge-ass fence that has been put there to protect the cars from driving into the ravine, should they loose control of their cars. For some reason, I have let Jax off the leash. A highly questionable decision, as I am walking on a highway. He is also a hunting dog, making it even more likely that he'll run into the road on a whim. But what happens instead is that he is running towards the ravine. Terrified that he will run into it I scream at him to stop - a fateful error. His reaction to my commanding scream is to throw himself at the ground, right at the edge of the ravine, causing him to loose his footing and fall down. I hear him howl briefly and then a loud thud, as he hits a rock. I run up to the edge and see him lying half-submerged in the stream at the bottom, legs and head in an odd angle. He is dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, a fire suddenly erupts among the houses on the other side of the road. I pay little attention to this, despite several fire trucks, police cars and ambulances rapidly showing up. The fire is burning fast and hot, and they have to stop the passing traffic to make room for the rescue vehicles. People from the houses run over to my side of the road, paying little attention to me and my despair. Understandable, since some of their friends seem to have been caught inside a burning house. Firemen are fighting to find a way to get them out before it's too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pay little attention to this. I am busy screaming and crying in agony; what have I done! How could I have let this happen! Clearly, it is my fault that poor little Jax is dead, I made so many questionable decisions, putting him in a dangerous situation and ultimately ending up dead. What are his owners going to say? What is my family going to say!? Everyone loves this dog, everyone will hate me - &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; hate me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I am busy crying and panicking about Jax, the fire burns out. The policemen go away and the crowd disperses. A young man covered in soot is walking towards me, crying. I have now finally managed to gather up the courage to call the owners and tell them what has happened. I pick up my phone and start looking to open the phone book when the man starts talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Isn't it just &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;great&lt;/span&gt; that your phone is working? Isn't it just &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;great&lt;/span&gt; that you will be able to make a phone call?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that he thinks that I am going to call a newspaper or program, and tell them of what has transpired on the other side, and perhaps even send pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Isn't IT JUST GREAT THAT YOU STILL HAVE YOUR PHONE WHILE I HAVE LOST EVERYTHING!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is holding a knife. I am holding an empty leash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am overwhelmed with terror, and start moving away from him. I try to ask for mercy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will you &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;please&lt;/span&gt; knock me out first? Please hit me in the head first!" I scream at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have already accepted my fate. I deserve to die. I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to die. Dying will be so much easier than facing the anger, the disappointment, the blame of everyone I know and love, for what has happened to Jax. But I do not want to feel all that pain. The thought of what it will feel like as he jabs the knife into my body over and over again is terrifying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I start running in the middle of the road, towards my hometown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tosses the knife after me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-621374472603941206?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/621374472603941206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=621374472603941206&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/621374472603941206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/621374472603941206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/12/terrible-prospect.html' title='A Terrible Prospect'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-1004691489057270065</id><published>2010-12-10T03:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T03:19:00.477+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Song</title><content type='html'>In Thundermar the tales proclaimed&lt;br /&gt;Of a beauty destined for fame&lt;br /&gt;Soft emerald green eyes framed a countenance wise&lt;br /&gt;The people cried “Fanny”, her name.&lt;br /&gt;Ol’ Firebeard he made her his quest&lt;br /&gt;On one knee his love he professed:&lt;br /&gt;“Oh Fanny me Fanny, do marry me can ye?&lt;br /&gt;I love ya and I loves yer chest.”&lt;br /&gt;Now let cheering dispel the twilight&lt;br /&gt;And let the Wildhammers unite!&lt;br /&gt;They’re short an’ they’re stout, but no man can doubt:&lt;br /&gt;Firebeard and his Fanny are tight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-1004691489057270065?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/1004691489057270065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=1004691489057270065&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1004691489057270065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1004691489057270065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/12/wedding-song.html' title='Wedding Song'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-703282385993411431</id><published>2010-12-01T03:04:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T03:05:43.240+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Games'/><title type='text'>All these games...</title><content type='html'>The Witcher 2&lt;br /&gt;Half-Life 2: Episode 3&lt;br /&gt;Dragon Age 2&lt;br /&gt;Deus Ex: Human Revolution&lt;br /&gt;Diablo III&lt;br /&gt;Fable III&lt;br /&gt;Guild Wars 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Game makers of the world have united to try and ruinate me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-703282385993411431?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/703282385993411431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=703282385993411431&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/703282385993411431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/703282385993411431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/12/all-these-games.html' title='All these games...'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-495437464782453297</id><published>2010-09-09T19:21:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T10:34:10.126+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunrise in June</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/TIkX7v9NBsI/AAAAAAAAAJg/Icfg9UEpNMo/s1600/DSCN1243.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/TIkX7v9NBsI/AAAAAAAAAJg/Icfg9UEpNMo/s400/DSCN1243.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514965533944776386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-495437464782453297?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/495437464782453297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=495437464782453297&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/495437464782453297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/495437464782453297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/09/gold-fire.html' title='Sunrise in June'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/TIkX7v9NBsI/AAAAAAAAAJg/Icfg9UEpNMo/s72-c/DSCN1243.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-949175637908148244</id><published>2010-09-01T11:10:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T11:11:21.955+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Election time</title><content type='html'>As an alternative to voting for the Pirate Party, there is always &lt;a href="http://www.thelocal.se/28694/20100831/"&gt;this.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-949175637908148244?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/949175637908148244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=949175637908148244&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/949175637908148244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/949175637908148244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/09/election-time.html' title='Election time'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-2875259521496722762</id><published>2010-07-30T23:56:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T00:01:42.006+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music and Movies and Books'/><title type='text'>Movie review: 2012</title><content type='html'>Allow me to quote &lt;a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ptitlek4mkmm79?from=Main.TwentyTwelve"&gt;TV Tropes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did we mention this movie is by the same guy who did Independence Day and The Day After Tomorrow? There's probably a pattern here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You Fail Physics Forever / You Fail Geology Forever"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The disturbing fact of the plot of this movie is that the title could have been 'Oh thank God we weren't standing there five seconds ago' with no change."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-2875259521496722762?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/2875259521496722762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=2875259521496722762&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2875259521496722762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2875259521496722762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/07/movie-review-2012.html' title='Movie review: 2012'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3470644818946001567</id><published>2010-07-20T16:25:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-07-20T16:27:29.963+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reactions'/><title type='text'>Attention!</title><content type='html'>I urge you all to use your eloquence and write a few Angry Letters to &lt;a href="http://svtplay.se/v/2081577/diplomatbarn_far_egen_graddfil"&gt;those geniuses&lt;/a&gt; in S and Rapport...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3470644818946001567?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3470644818946001567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3470644818946001567&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3470644818946001567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3470644818946001567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/07/attention.html' title='Attention!'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6076570039522183542</id><published>2010-06-18T06:52:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T06:53:12.414+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck trees - I'm from a boat!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6076570039522183542?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6076570039522183542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6076570039522183542&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6076570039522183542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6076570039522183542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/06/fuck-trees-im-from-boat.html' title='Fuck trees - I&apos;m from a boat!'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-2022832157785266209</id><published>2010-06-01T18:43:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T18:56:23.325+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Half-Life Challenge Accepted</title><content type='html'>Half my life ago, I was 11 years and 55 days old, and just about to finish 4th grade. My school had decided that 28 kids were too many to have in the same class, so we were being merged with the '89's and split evenly into three classes. Our class was a mess of social intrigue and I was the odd one out for being, I kid you not, the ONLY girl (out of 14) who was doing sports.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was about the same time that all boys all of a sudden decided that they could not be friends with a girl and all of a sudden I was left with a bunch of spice-girls imitating bitches (I wasn't much better). Half my life ago I found out that my teacher was pregnant, and thus the only good part about my new class (that I would get to keep our teacher from 4th grade) wouldn't last more than a couple of months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half my life ago pretty much the only good part of my life was that I was good at orienteering. Now I have friends, but I have lost that one thing that kept me going throughout primary school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-2022832157785266209?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/2022832157785266209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=2022832157785266209&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2022832157785266209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2022832157785266209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/06/half-life-challenge-accepted.html' title='Half-Life Challenge Accepted'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6665383775693165394</id><published>2010-05-18T14:21:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T14:25:12.230+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Piratpartiet + The Pirate Bay = sant</title><content type='html'>Today the Pirate Bay moved its homepage and search engine to the Swedish Pirate Party's servers. This is nothing less than a stroke of genius! Name the court that will support the motion to shut down the Internet access of a political party.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6665383775693165394?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6665383775693165394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6665383775693165394&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6665383775693165394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6665383775693165394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/05/piratpartiet-pirate-bay-sant.html' title='Piratpartiet + The Pirate Bay = sant'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4855620810262009480</id><published>2010-05-14T21:01:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T21:34:25.320+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Computers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ubuntu'/><title type='text'>Sudo (make me a sandwitch)</title><content type='html'>Feeling adventurous (a desire to mess with computers) I decided that now that my spiritual well being is no longer dependent upon my laptop, I could use it for dangerous experiments like dual OS - in short I decided to install Ubuntu, while keeping Win 7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately Ubuntu 10.04 turned out to be less cooperative. In fact, it would not start at all. First I tried with a standard downloaded live-CD. It would not boot properly. I would see a small icon (which I later found out is supposed to be a keyboard) and then only a blank screen. (Back-lighted black is by far a more depressing sight than any concrete wall)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I had nothing better to use my pile of CD-R's for I reinstalled it, now at minimum speed - same result. Then I looked around a bit to find an alternative, more traditional installation CD image that could only install the operative system. The installation went fine, but was less successful. At startup I got the same blank screen and it also turned out that I had managed to corrupt my Win 7 beyond saving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then proceeded to reinstall Win 7 and ignore my laptop, which had by then fallen out of my good graces. But I felt I had not yet exhausted all possibilities, and Ubuntu was calling for me to give it another chance. So I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I installed Ubuntu as a program in windows (a light version that can be given no more than 30 GB of hard drive space), but all I got was the same blank screen. Determined to see this through to the end I downloaded the netbook edition and set up my spare USB-stick with a boot section.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time I actually got to see a menu, where I could choose to run Ubuntu from the USB-stick or install it. Feeling in no way inclined to mess up my newly reinstalled Win 7 for nothing, I tried the launch option... And got the same old blank screen (which was by now becoming as familiar to my eyes as my desktop background).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not until now that I finally resorted to attempt the Google solution. As I should have known from the start, this provided an instant solution to my problem. It turns out that the Ubuntu people have failed at one crucial point; making Ubuntu load a generic driver for old graphics cards for which no driver is included!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When booting from the CD I had to press a key, any key, when that little symbol appeared in the bottom of my screen. Then press F6 and pick the option 'nomodeset'. Then boot. It worked. Seeing that my laptop was indeed capable of running Ubuntu 10.04 LTS I decided to install it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in order to boot the OS I had to edit the grub options from the boot menu. The task comprised of simply replacing the words 'quiet' and 'splash' with 'nomodeset' and then booting. The only thing that remained now was to permanently edit the grub settings...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now encountered my last obstacle. Where to find the Ubuntu equivalent of the command prompt? No guide included this vital (for a n00b like myself) information! Youtube, however, seems to contain the most "for dummies" guides in the world, and here I could finally find out how to open the 'terminal'. Then, for the first time in my life I got to type the words 'sudo' and 'gedit'. The satisfaction I felt when I saved and updated the grub and rebooted to find that it was working was enormous (as is evident from this overly lengthy blog-post about me being a stubborn idiot and refusing to google my problem)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps. Unlike any version of windows I have yet encountered, Ubuntu 10.04 LTS actually included working drivers for my built-in GSM modem Ds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4855620810262009480?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4855620810262009480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4855620810262009480&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4855620810262009480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4855620810262009480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/05/sudo-make-me-sandwitch.html' title='Sudo (make me a sandwitch)'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-1434568804605152870</id><published>2010-05-13T17:42:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T17:43:31.537+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Marriage!</title><content type='html'>In response to Rik's comment, but mostly in general excitement: I am not getting married (that would really be a surprise) but my cousin is. Yay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-1434568804605152870?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/1434568804605152870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=1434568804605152870&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1434568804605152870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1434568804605152870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/05/marriage.html' title='Marriage!'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5336823155550693839</id><published>2010-05-04T14:36:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T14:44:38.036+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>View</title><content type='html'>Sitting here in the living room I can look out the window at all the people passing by. Many of them are walking their dogs. There are also many cats. The day before yesterday I saw a guy on &lt;a href="http://s3files.core77.com/blog/images/avb_core77_7leagueboots.jpg"&gt;jumping stilts&lt;/a&gt;. That was cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I saw a guy in a red T-shirt digging in the lawn, near some small trees. I didn't think much of it at the time, figuring he was planting something. Today, however, there are a bunch of people digging in the lawn. I don't know what they are up to. From here it looks like they are digging trenches, preparing for warfare against one of the apartment houses. Who are they? Why are they digging? What are they digging?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I simply do not know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5336823155550693839?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5336823155550693839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5336823155550693839&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5336823155550693839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5336823155550693839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/05/through.html' title='View'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-459505658006000351</id><published>2010-04-26T13:04:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T13:05:16.510+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.socialstyrelsen.se/pressrum/nyhetsarkiv/1livsuppehallande"&gt;http://www.socialstyrelsen.se/pressrum/nyhetsarkiv/1livsuppehallande&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-459505658006000351?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/459505658006000351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=459505658006000351&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/459505658006000351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/459505658006000351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/04/finally.html' title='Finally!'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-1211226085394979021</id><published>2010-04-23T01:25:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T01:41:14.862+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Computers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Comercials'/><title type='text'>Virus protection</title><content type='html'>I've already told some of you about this, but I'm gonna go ahead and repeat myself.&lt;br /&gt;6 am PT on April 21st (this Wednesday) McAfee released an update for their virus protection program, directed primarily at their business clients.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon thereafter computers running Windows XP Service Pack 3 started crashing or constantly rebooting. The reason - McAfee had gotten the idea that svchost.exe was a virus. (svchost.exe is a vital process in XP, accounting for much of the processor/memory usage)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/8636985.stm"&gt;BBC&lt;/a&gt; Intel was basically shut down. &lt;a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2010/TECH/04/22/cnet.mcafee.antivirus.bug/index.html?iref=allsearch"&gt;CNN&lt;/a&gt; reports that ALL of Intel's computers in the US run McAfee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Sweden Telia lost about 15.000 computers, and ABB have been affected. Systembolaget had to close 27 stores and many communes were affected. According to &lt;a href="http://computersweden.idg.se/2.2683/1.312895/datorkaos-i-hela-sverige"&gt;a technician&lt;/a&gt; at the University of Michigan some 800.000 computers worldwide were rendered useless. If that is true McAfee must truly have a whole lot of customers, since they stated that "We believe that this incident has impacted less than one half of one percent of our enterprise accounts globally".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I received this mail:        &lt;br /&gt;   Klicka här för att se en webbversion av mailet&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DATORKAOS I HELA SVERIGE!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Halva Telia utslaget. 27 systembolag stängda. Stora problem på ABB, Svenskt Näringsliv och i flera kommuner. Allt resultatet av en dundertabbe när McAfee skickade ut en felaktig uppdatering av sitt virusskydd. Rapporterna om utslagna datorer rasade in efter att uppdateringen skickats ut under onsdagen. Enligt tekniker på University of Michigan drabbades 800 000 datorer globalt." (artikel ur IDG.se, idag den 22 april).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;UNDVIK DATASTRUL!&lt;br /&gt;Gör inte en McAfee - Välj F-secure genom Bahnhof för tryggheten!&lt;br /&gt;Nu kan du testa helt gratis i tre månader utan förpliktelser.&lt;br /&gt;Klicka här för att ladda ner F-secure från Bahnhof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I call excellent marketing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-1211226085394979021?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/1211226085394979021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=1211226085394979021&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1211226085394979021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1211226085394979021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/04/virus-protection.html' title='Virus protection'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3764965104354986986</id><published>2010-04-04T00:43:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T01:02:08.453+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music and Movies and Books'/><title type='text'>Var ska vi sova i natt?</title><content type='html'>Ok, here's the thing. Somehow I have ended up with the most horrible dance version (with electronic voice) of &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6ralGlnoXQ&amp;feature=PlayList&amp;p=E27838A0BEFDE13E&amp;playnext_from=PL&amp;playnext=1&amp;index=40"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; song. That version I linked you is however (if possible) even worse. Luckily there is &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SvISjeBJ6L8"&gt;another one&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it quite good, despite the dialect. However, it turns out it exists in &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZC32S5aqbUY&amp;feature=related"&gt;Danish&lt;/a&gt; as well. (Try to ignore the dancing girls.) There is way more than one version in Danish too. Now, I started wondering which version came first. The lyrics are the same in Danish and Swedish, but whoever wrote it I do not know. As is often the case with Swedish Wikipedia it let me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A clue, however, could be found on YouTube. Turns out the original is actually &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCvUOBGpk6Y"&gt;Italian&lt;/a&gt; (!) This is the absolute original version of the song. The group, as it turns out, is the most famous pop group in the Latin world. So much so, that they even recorded this song in &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGAmCO3-jUk"&gt;Spanish&lt;/a&gt; too. What little Spanish I do know tells me that the lyrics have a SLIGHTLY different meaning in the Scandinavian versions ;P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, btw, on Så ska det låta they made &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxYkVbdUmUM"&gt;Måns Zelmerlöw&lt;/a&gt; sing it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3764965104354986986?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3764965104354986986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3764965104354986986&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3764965104354986986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3764965104354986986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/04/var-ska-vi-sova-i-natt.html' title='Var ska vi sova i natt?'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3884376703459564422</id><published>2010-04-03T22:33:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-03T22:37:58.854+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Party'/><title type='text'>Invitation</title><content type='html'>I'm taking a chance here and will presume that within 5 days all whom are concerned will have read this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next Friday or Saturday (9th or 10th) you are invited over to me and the Iceye for Barbecue and SingStar. I intend to get very drunk, and anyone interested is free to join me in that endeavor. (Nallenon, if I buy Baileys, will you bring whiskey for some really awesome coffee drinks?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps. The grilling will be done in oven, so weather is irrelevant. Ds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3884376703459564422?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3884376703459564422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3884376703459564422&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3884376703459564422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3884376703459564422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/04/invitation.html' title='Invitation'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-7657801092068759313</id><published>2010-04-02T19:00:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T19:10:00.500+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Birthdays</title><content type='html'>Today I celebrated my birthday. It is not actually my birthday, but since people are free it fitted well. After I turned 18 it's become very anticlimactic. I got up early, because once again I could not sleep, and finished the cake. Then I sat around waiting for people to show up, which they did around 2 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I got home I have been in a weird sleeping pattern, sleeping way too long one day and consequently going to bed very late... Only to wake up ridiculously early the next day, like 6:30 early! And not being able to fall asleep again! So I get up, walking around half-tired all day and going to bed before midnight, waking up at 7-8 am, only to fall asleep again and wake up around 13-15!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, birthdays; they are boring. Right now it feels like the only point of having people over is so that I could show them my home... which I obviously can't, since it's in Uppsala. It would be so nice to have some people come over so that I could serve them coffee in my awesome cups, and bake a cake and put it in my cake-box thingy (real Tupperware :P). Yeah, that would be nice. Maybe I'll do that with you guys, not that you drink coffee, but still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was something more I wanted to say, but I've lost it. I'll probably remember it soon and write another post. See ya! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps. please DON'T get any birthday presents for me (not that I assume you plan to), 'cause I really can't afford getting any for you :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-7657801092068759313?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/7657801092068759313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=7657801092068759313&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7657801092068759313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7657801092068759313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/04/birthdays.html' title='Birthdays'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4036841819484110935</id><published>2010-03-08T21:45:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T21:50:14.320+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>Oh, forgot to tell some of you; I've got a new computer now! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I canceled the order from the slowcats and bought one from Komplett. It was a quite interesting (read SCARY) experience to put it together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is kinda cheap-o, but it can play ALL games out there, and there are a lot of possible upgrades for times when I'm bathing in money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, Modern Warfare 2 is out of stock, ETA to the store on the 10th, so I might get it before Friday whoooo!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4036841819484110935?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4036841819484110935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4036841819484110935&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4036841819484110935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4036841819484110935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/03/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3304990507422278889</id><published>2010-02-19T02:29:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T02:32:47.517+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Lonelycat</title><content type='html'>Bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roommate got her new PC and an "immersive" RPG.&lt;br /&gt;Now she's sitting with her headphones on and is completely lost to the world. Also she gave me a cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my PC.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3304990507422278889?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3304990507422278889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3304990507422278889&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3304990507422278889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3304990507422278889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/02/lonelycat.html' title='Lonelycat'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-7912187549424865066</id><published>2010-02-08T12:57:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T12:58:47.708+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Home'/><title type='text'>New Place!</title><content type='html'>Woooo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/S2_8ZFtLO1I/AAAAAAAAAIk/gKaLi5CagRk/s1600-h/DSCN1229.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/S2_8ZFtLO1I/AAAAAAAAAIk/gKaLi5CagRk/s400/DSCN1229.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435840783218064210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-7912187549424865066?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/7912187549424865066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=7912187549424865066&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7912187549424865066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7912187549424865066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/02/new-place.html' title='New Place!'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/S2_8ZFtLO1I/AAAAAAAAAIk/gKaLi5CagRk/s72-c/DSCN1229.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-9115389403260223044</id><published>2010-01-12T16:37:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T17:08:04.816+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shiny and New'/><title type='text'>Once more, with feeling</title><content type='html'>New year - as always I'm hoping this is the year when I by some freak chance become filthy rich...&lt;br /&gt;New school - ein student aus Uppsala, again &lt;br /&gt;New apartment - yay! &lt;br /&gt;New roommate - let's not kill each other, ok?&lt;br /&gt;New attempt - at finishing school and getting somewhere in life&lt;br /&gt;New computer? - maybe... :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/S0yeTWdTcHI/AAAAAAAAAIc/TS7RJOMFTe0/s1600-h/Collage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/S0yeTWdTcHI/AAAAAAAAAIc/TS7RJOMFTe0/s400/Collage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425885706357796978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-9115389403260223044?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/9115389403260223044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=9115389403260223044&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/9115389403260223044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/9115389403260223044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2010/01/once-more-with-feeling.html' title='Once more, with feeling'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/S0yeTWdTcHI/AAAAAAAAAIc/TS7RJOMFTe0/s72-c/Collage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-1365722676396254788</id><published>2009-12-24T07:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T07:01:00.374+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Disclaimer</title><content type='html'>The story published on this blog throughout December is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real life people and/or events is entirely coincidental.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-1365722676396254788?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/1365722676396254788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=1365722676396254788&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1365722676396254788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1365722676396254788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/disclaimer.html' title='Disclaimer'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5422253434748123388</id><published>2009-12-24T07:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T23:03:31.024+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 24</title><content type='html'>After many hours Kingsley emerged from the kitchen, announcing that the ether was done. Everyone stood up and looked at each other a bit confusedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So… Do we test is or something?” Sasha asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I suppose we should. To see if it works.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Any volunteers?” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone was silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uhm… No offence to your chemical skill Kingsley, but I don’t really trust this substance…” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s the whole vacuuming hose thing that bothers me.” Sasha said. “God knows what might have been in there to mess things up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“All right. I’ll test it myself.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone followed him into the kitchen, where he took a towel and dipped it a bit in the surprisingly large container with ether. He sat down on a chair and put the towel to his face and started breathing through it. He nearly instantly passed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalton hurriedly removed the towel and gently shook Kingsley a bit. Kingsley came too and shook his head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That must have been purer than I thought it would be.” He said, looking very proud&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, so I guess we’ll have no trouble sleeping for… The next twelve months.” Lance said and nodded towards the ether.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, I suppose.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It seems a bit excessive.” Ridley said. “Surely this whole thing won’t last that long.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I certainly hope not.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uhm… Boys.” Asher said suddenly. He was standing at the window, peeking out through the blinds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What is it?” Dalton asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Come and see for yourselves.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone walked over and discovered what had caught Asher’s attention. In the field outside their building there were about fifty persons. They were mostly wandering about aimlessly and wore the telltale marks of being infected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I wonder…” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Lance said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drew, Kenzie, Aidan and Boris were still hiding in the far end of the field when suddenly they saw two persons bursting out from the building where Ridley and the others lived. They ran screaming straight towards the field and the mob of people in it. The people in the field stopped wandering about and looked up at the two madmen screaming at them. As soon as they started moving towards them the two persons started running quickly in a wide circle, effectively gathering up the infected people in a tight mob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one of them threw what looked like a glass bottle high into the air that landed in the middle of the mob and broke. The two men kept running in a circle, and they moved much quicker than the mob. After a few seconds some of the infected started falling over, and within a minute they were all lying on the ground – not moving a limb. The two men stopped running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that point Drew and the others had emerged from their hiding place and were walking up to the men. They had finally recognized them as their dear friends Dalton and Lance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oi!” Boris called out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Boris!” Dalton said in great surprise. “What are you doing here?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Visiting Ridley, what are you doing here?” Boris asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dito.” Lance said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“More to the point; what did you do with them?” Drew said, pointing at the lifeless mob&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We knocked them unconscious with ether.” Dalton said with a shrug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ether!?” Kenzie said. “Where on earth did you get that from?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kingsley made it.” Lance said with a smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kingsley is here too?” Boris asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, we met him on the airport.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan had been standing to the back, not saying much at all, but now he felt it necessary to interrupt the friends from their chit-chat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Excuse me. Hi. I was just wondering; will they be all right?” He said, pointing at the pile of unconscious people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, yeah.” Dalton said. “The ether will have dispersed by now. They’re just sleeping.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, ok.” Aidan said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m Dalton, by the way.” Dalton said and shook Aidan’s hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m Aidan.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ah, from our neighboring country.” Dalton said, referring to the nationality of Aidan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes.” Aidan answered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m Lance.” Lance said and also shook Aidan’s hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that point Asher opened the front door to their building and called out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How’s it going?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Perfect.” Dalton replied. “Everything went according to plan.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok. Good.” Asher said. “Who’s that with you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Drew, Kenzie, Boris and Aidan.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Asher heard this he left the doorway and came up to them. He looked at Drew and Kenzie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I thought you went to the safe-zone.” He said grouchily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We did, but we came back.” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I have a message from us all; You are all bastards.” He turned to Boris, “Hello Boris, nice to see you.” And then turned to Aidan. “I don’t know who you are; but nice to see you anyway.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now all of the people from the apartment had gathered up in the field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hi all, I hate to interrupt; but what are we going to do with them?” Ridley said, pointing at the pile of infected&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We should probably get them to the hospital.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, I agree.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kingsley went to the road and waved at a military patrol that happened to be passing by. He pointed at the people in the field and the military turned around and drove up to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once they had surveyed the situation, they decided to call for ambulance transport for what turned out to be 56 persons. Needless to say neither of our friends felt it necessary to inform them of exactly how the mob had come to fall unconscious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes later the first ambulances arrived, and from all of a sudden Jackson and Shae arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey! How did you get here?” Kenzie asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Once I had my wound patched up,” Shae said, pointing at a band aid on her cheek. “the staff asked us for our address, and we told them we were living with you guys.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When they got the call for the ambulances, they brought us along.” Jackson said, and started hugging everyone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wow!” Mac said. “This is kind of great, we’re all gathered up!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And it’s Christmas!” Sasha said with a huge smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes! I believe it is!” Aidan said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly Boris started singing a Christmas song, and everyone joined in. The ambulance personnel looked at them with amusement and some of them even joined in. The military decided not bother about the transgression of the curfew these young people had made –  after all it was Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5422253434748123388?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5422253434748123388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5422253434748123388&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5422253434748123388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5422253434748123388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-24.html' title='Chapter 24'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3913167605703420281</id><published>2009-12-23T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T07:00:06.468+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 23</title><content type='html'>As the helicopter took off our friends gathered up in their seats. Boris, Jackson and Shae were utterly confused and astonished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where are we going? Why are we going? And; A HELICOPTER!” Jackson shouted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“They didn’t tell you?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Duh!” Boris said angrily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t believe it!” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’re going back to my place.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why?” Shae asked. “Didn’t you just leave from there because of the virus?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes.” Drew said. “Yes we did.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone fell silent. They were all too confused and astonished to speak for a long while, until finally Aidan said: “I don’t understand anything!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I… hmm…” Kenzie said. “Why did we get on the helicopter?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I have no idea.” Jackson and Drew said in chorus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok. But now that we are, maybe we should – I don’t know – plan what we’re going to do when we get there?” Boris said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah. I suppose.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Any ideas?” Kenzie asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Maybe we could go and visit Ridley and Mac and the others?” Shae suggested&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“An excellent idea!” Boris said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Who are Ridley and Mac?” Aidan wondered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Some friends that live in the same city as I do.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are they good friends? Can they be trusted?” Aidan asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, yes! Very good friends.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Of course they can be trusted!” Jackson said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Then why didn’t you bring them in the first place?” Aidan asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, why didn’t you?” Boris asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone looked at Drew and Kenzie, who looked very uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well…” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We kinda thought they would do fine without us.” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I didn’t. But I thought maybe it would be too dangerous to go there?” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, yeah. Maybe…” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About one hour later they landed at the hospital in the city and immediately faced a major problem; how to get past the guards and out into the city. Before they could do anything, however, the problem was solved for them. The old man needing surgery was rushed off by a medical staff in hazmat suits, and the others started walking towards the entrance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Shae walked out of the helicopter the woman behind her fell forwards and pushed Shae in the back. Shae and a man walking in front of her lost their balance and fell hard to the ground with the woman on top of them in a pile. The woman started screaming with pain, and the guards looked hesitantly at the mess and then left their posts and rushed over to help. The rest of our friends were already outside the helicopter waiting, and could not do anything to help Shae.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh no! Do you think Shae got hurt!?” Aidan asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I hope not!” Jackson said worriedly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The guards are running over.” Boris said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We could get away right now.” Kenzie said. “But…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We can’t just leave Shae.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You go, I’ll stay with her.” Jackson said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But…” Aidan said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t worry; we’re in a hospital – we’ll be allright.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are you sure?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Positive. Now hurry and go! Say hi to the others from me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Will do.” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jackson ran up to the crowd and the others started running towards some bushes. They discovered somewhat to their surprise that the area around the hospital was not very heavily guarded. They had no problem whatsoever slipping past the remaining guards and out into the nearby park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Does anyone know the way?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, I do.” Kenzie said. “But we shouldn’t go through the city center.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No, that seems rather stupid.” Aidan said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, we’ll go over there.” Kenzie said and pointed down the hill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They started half walking, half jogging through the city. Every now and then they saw a police car or even the odd military vehicle, but they were always able to hide somewhere until it had passed. It took them over two hours to get to Ridley’s apartment, going in a wide semi-circle. Eventually they arrived at the far end of the field outside the apartment building, and they faced another problem; there was a rather large gathering of people on it. They looked very dirty and rough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shit!” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How the hell are we going to get past them?” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are we going over there?” Aidan asked, pointing towards the building&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes.” Boris said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Damn.” Aidan muttered&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3913167605703420281?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3913167605703420281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3913167605703420281&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3913167605703420281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3913167605703420281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-23.html' title='Chapter 23'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3067958987438735102</id><published>2009-12-22T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T07:00:03.067+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 22</title><content type='html'>Eryn did not stay awake for long before she slept again. She was not showing any sign of getting worse again, but the others were worried that she might have infected them with the mysterious virus. As she was sleeping they discussed their options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It seems like sleep in itself is a remedy.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, it does appear so.” Dalton said. “Is that possible?” He asked Kingsley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Very unlikely, but definitely possible. If the virus itself only causes a mild insomnia that inhibits the body from battling the disease properly it might even be a cure.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“A very odd virus that shuts down the speech center and causes insomnia, but nothing else – not even fever.” Lance said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So what we need is sleeping pills?” Mac asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes...” Lance said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Or better yet; anesthetics.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But we don’t have those, do we?” Dalton asked, and everybody shook their heads. “So we need to get some.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“At the hospital, maybe?” Sasha asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes of course, except for the curfew.” Asher said. “We’ve been lucky so far, and haven’t run into any patrols. But if there is one place we can be sure to meet them it’s at the hospital.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He’s right.” Kingsley said. “And I doubt they will include it in the rations package…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So we’re just going to sit here and hope for the best?” Sasha asked angrily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“If I had some strong, pure alcohol, I could make some ether…” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Really? How?” Lance wondered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s rather easy, I just dehydrate it.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, I’ll be right back.” Lance said and went out the door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone looked after him confusedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where is he going?” Ridley asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I have no idea.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I have.” Dalton said and smiled amusedly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later Lance came back, carrying a box that Kingsley and Dalton recognized. He put it down on the table and opened it. It contained nothing but bottles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pure alcohol, ey?” Asher asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes. Since the curfew set in there is a huge profit in selling black market alcohol.” Lance said. “I would take this home and dilute them to about 30% and sell them for a reasonable price.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And make a fortune, no doubt. You’re a true entrepreneur, my friend.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But now they will come to better use.” Sasha said and smiled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Indeed.” Lance said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, let me see here…” Kingsley said and started looking through the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gathered up a variety of glass jars and pots. Then he did the same in the rest of the apartment. Anything he could use he confiscated, and started building a chemical apparatus. He used duct tape and rubber gloves to make it air tight. Finally he was finished and they all gathered to marvel at his creation. Obviously it wasn’t very pretty, but it would serve its purpose fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, let’s get started.” Kingsley said and started pouring the alcohol into the apparatus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone was standing around him, following every move he made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uh, guys… This is going to take a while. Hours and hours. So you may want to find something else to occupy yourselves with…” He said to them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“All right, let’s go; to the living room.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This might not be the best time, but is anyone up for a game of mafia?” Ridley asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t be silly, this is a perfect time! Come on, let’s get the deck out.” Dalton said&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3067958987438735102?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3067958987438735102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3067958987438735102&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3067958987438735102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3067958987438735102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-22.html' title='Chapter 22'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-2142332574412259825</id><published>2009-12-21T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T07:00:04.304+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 21</title><content type='html'>Three hours after he had left in a hurry, Drew’s father returned to the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Come on you all, you have to go.” He called as soon as he opened the door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What’s going on? Is it bad?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where are we going?” Kenzie wondered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No time for questions, come on now!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They hurried to the hallway and quickly put on their clothes and followed Drew’s father out the door. On the drive way they found two police cars waiting for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What about our cars?” Aidan asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Leave them here.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly they were all very worried about what might be going on. But they did not have time to discuss anything before they were ushered into the cars. As soon as they had closed the doors the cars went off as pull speed, with the sirens on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Is that really necessary?” Shae asked the driver in her car&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, of course. There is no curfew up here.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why not?” Jackson asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“There hasn’t been any need for it. Until now.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the other car Kenzie and Aidan motioned to Drew to find out what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So… Where are we going?” She asked her father&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“To the school. There will be a helicopter there to pick you up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What! Why?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“An old man has gotten very ill, and needs to get surgery. Only the military is allowed to fly at the time, and the helicopter they’re sending can take 20 passengers. We’re sending some more people with health problems. It’s going to your city and there is room for six more persons, so I’m sending you with it.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But I can’t leave you and mom when the virus has come here!” Drew protested&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s not a question.” The way he said it made it clear that he would do whatever was necessary to get her on that helicopter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the other car they were not so lucky though. No matter how they tried they could not get any answer from the policemen in the front seats. Actually, they did not even bother to answer. Boris thought they were very rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while they arrived at the school and drove straight to a large field. As they arrived they could see a huge crowd of people gathered around the helicopter. In the middle were a group of policemen trying to keep people away from the prepared landing site, but it was not easy. As the two police cars drive arrived the crowd turned around and came running at the cars. They were shouting and started banging at the windows. The car up front honked the horn, but the people would not move. They were all desperate to get on the helicopter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When I find out who the hell leaked the information about the infected ones I’ll…” Drew’s father cursed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What about those infected persons?” Drew asked her father&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“As soon as we found out about the couple those incompetent guards let in we brought them into custody. They had not been in contact with anybody except the guards, and they did not get very close to those. They are the only people who have gotten ill.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What do you want me to do?” The driver asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hold on.” Drew’s father called the policemen at the helicopter and told them to help clear the way, but it was hopeless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The pilot wants to take off right now.” They reported&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok. That’s it.” Drew’s father said. “Fire a warning shot.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The policemen did so, and some of the people backed off. Those who didn’t, however, went berserk and started kicking at the windows of the cars, trying to get into the cars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Drive on!” Drew’s father ordered. “But slowly. They can’t keep the car from moving forward.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly the car pressed on. The people up front were squeezed as the car pushed from one side, and the people behind in kept pressing towards the car. The policemen in the middle started wrestling people and tearing them away so that finally the two police cars could get through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as they arrived at the clearing the policemen made a chain to hold people back so that the people in the cars could exit and get to the helicopter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok. Hurry!” Drew’s father said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t you dare go and get hurt!” Drew said&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-2142332574412259825?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/2142332574412259825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=2142332574412259825&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2142332574412259825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2142332574412259825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-21.html' title='Chapter 21'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6006799401208016335</id><published>2009-12-20T07:00:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T16:59:53.496+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 20</title><content type='html'>Dalton, Ridley and the others parked the car right outside the door to the apartment house. They figured the risk of parking tickets minimal, and it would be better if they needed to get away quickly. They opened the trunk and carried Eryn inside. Anybody could see that she was exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they entered the apartment a smaller chaos broke out. To begin with, Asher and Mac were happy to see Ridley and Sasha back in safety. Then they were stunned when they realized who the person Dalton carried was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eryn!” Asher cried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my God! What’s happened to her?” Mac asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Let me in, so I can put her down.” Dalton said and walked towards the living room. Just as he passed through the door Kingsley stumbled and fell on Dalton’s back. Dalton, in turn, fell over and knocked the poor Eryn’s head into the door post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dammit!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my God! Is she alright?” Sasha asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What happened?” Ridley asked (he was standing behind Lance and did not see Dalton fall over)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalton got up and carried Eryn to the couch. Then Kingsley stepped in and they started examining her. To their great relief she was breathing steadily. She was, however, unconscious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, at least she’s breathing. That was a pretty hard hit she got on her head.” Kingsley concluded&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Should we try to wake her up?” Mac asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We should check if she’s just unconscious or in a coma.” Lance said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Give me a flashlight.” Kingsley said. Asher went to his room and fetched a small but bright flashlight that he handed to Kingsley. Kingsley took the flashlight and pulled up Eryn’s eyelids, one at a time. “It’s ok. Her pupils are responding just fine.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Her eyes are all red though.” Lance pointed out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes. They are.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What do you think it means?” Sasha asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Technically, it means that the blood vessels in her eyes have burst.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Which happens, for example, when you haven’t slept for days.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Exactly.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So we should let her sleep.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Isn’t that dangerous?” Sasha said. “She might have a concussion.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“True enough.” Dalton said. “Let’s wake her up then.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so they did. But Eryn remained unconscious. She did stir a couple of times, but she did not wake up. Finally they decided to let her sleep and hope for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twenty hours later Eryn finally woke up. Her eyes were still bright red, but she seemed much better, somehow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ehrr.” She mumbled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eryn is awake!” Mac called to the others, who were in the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Water.” Eryn said hoarsely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mac went to the kitchen and filled up a glass of water, which Eryn emptied eagerly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s… such a relief… to be able to talk again.” She said after a while&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What do you mean?” Kingsley asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I couldn’t talk. It was so strange; I could think perfectly clear (at least in the beginning, before I got too tired) but whenever I tried to speak I just couldn’t. All that came out was random sounds.” Eryn explained&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sounds like your speech center stopped working. Can you tell us what’s happened to you?” Dalton asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eryn started describing her past twelve days. When the infection first started spreading she had remained healthy. Unfortunately she had been infected after a week or so. She did not notice right away, but she started having trouble sleeping. Eventually she found that she could no longer talk, and she could not get more than a couple of hours of sleep every day. She ate what she had at home, and when she ran out of food she started going out to try to find some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But by now she was so exhausted from sleep deprivation that she could no longer think clearly. She started following other people around, in the hope that they would find something to eat eventually. The crowds grew larger and larger, and everyone was infected. Once she’d found something to eat she would go home and try to sleep until she got hungry again. But never getting a good night’s sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That’s horrible.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But now you have probably infected us too.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Probably.” Eryn said sadly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’ll have to wait and see.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But what will we do when we can’t sleep?” Ridley said. “We can’t just hit each other in the head all the time.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Is that what happened?” Eryn asked. “That explains the headache. By the way, where’s Drew? And Kenzie and Jackson and Boris?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Jackson is probably with his parents or something, and I have no idea of where Boris is.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Drew and Kenzie, apparently, decided to ditch us and go to some safe zone that Drew’s father is running.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Bastards.” Asher muttred&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6006799401208016335?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6006799401208016335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6006799401208016335&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6006799401208016335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6006799401208016335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-20.html' title='Chapter 20'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-1248877578937320586</id><published>2009-12-19T07:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T12:40:39.384+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 19</title><content type='html'>Aidan, Jackson, Shae and Boris were sitting at the dinner table in Drew’s parents’ house. They were drinking hot chocolate and waiting for Drew’s father to come home. None of them was in the mood for small talk though, so it was dead silent. They all had a feeling that great things were about to happen, and so they were very tense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had arrived about an hour ago, and were told that Drew’s father was expected at lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, Kenzie and Drew had finally arrived at the guarded road block to the safe zone. They were greeted with a lot of suspicion, and the guards did not want to let them in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m sorry, we can’t risk it. If we let anyone from outside in we risk the safety of everyone in the safe zone. It has remained safe for a reason.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Look, I’m sure you mean well and all, but I don’t think my father would approve of this.” Drew’s namedropping made the guards a bit nervous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’re the Chief’s daughter?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I am. You should give him a call and tell him I’m here.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guards hesitated a bit. Last week they had fallen in ill grace with Drew’s father when they let some people from the south into the safe zone (they too, had claimed relations to some important people). On the other hand these girls were asking for the Chief in person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“All right. Wait here.” One of the guards said and went into a car and picked up the radio. About ten minutes later a car arrived, from which Drew’s father emerged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dad!” Drew called out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He smiled at them and quickly ordered the guards to let them pass. Seeing that the girl was who she claimed to be, they let them pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Let’s go home.” Drew’s father said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They drove off, Drew with her father and Kenzie in their “borrowed” car behind. Soon they arrived at the house and went straight into the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hi!” Jackson called out in joy. “You have no idea of how glad I am to see you!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many hugs later they were sitting at the table, listening to the stories they had to tell each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t believe they kidnapped you!” Aidan said, in reference to the strange cult Drew and Kenzie had encountered. “What do you think they were going to do?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I have no idea.” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t believe you were chased by zombies!” Drew said to Jackson and the others&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Actually, I’m not entirely sure they are zombies.” Aidan said with contemplation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But they did behave very oddly.” Jackson said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Perhaps I can offer some enlightenment.” Drew’s father interrupted. “The people you have seen are infected with an odd virus that spreads very quickly. It is not lethal – in fact, it doesn’t even hurt them.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But why are they running about then?” Aidan asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“As far as the latest reports from the government they seem to be very restless. Reports and tests indicate that their speech centre is shut down somehow.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Whoa, that’s weird.” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What about the red eyes?” Shae asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“For some reason the infection seems to make it impossible to sleep properly. The sleep deprivation would in fact explain much of the odd behavior of the infected persons.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh.” Jackson said. “We though they wanted to… kill us or something.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“A natural reaction when seeing a bunch of strangers running towards you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Fight or flight.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Let’s hope most people choose flight.” Drew’s dad said with a concerned look on his face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the phone called, and Drew’s father disappeared into the other room. Less than a minute later he came back to the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I have to go again. The virus has breached the safe zone. Those two incompetent guards let some infected people through a few days ago.” He turned to Drew. “Stay here.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-1248877578937320586?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/1248877578937320586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=1248877578937320586&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1248877578937320586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1248877578937320586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-19.html' title='Chapter 19'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4966296430269833327</id><published>2009-12-18T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T07:00:03.990+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 18</title><content type='html'>Drew and Kenzie were lying on the floor in the very small and very dark room. They had been doing so for quite a while. Eventually they had fallen asleep from exhaustion. Now they were rather brusquely woken up by the strong men from the night before. As they were dragged out of the room their eyes were stabbed by the sudden sunlight shining in through the windows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were given a meager breakfast of half cold porridge, and they ate in silence. After this they were allowed to go to the bathroom and then they were led outside and put in their car. The men drove towards the central part of the town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where are you taking us?” Kenzie asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“To the Church.” One of the men responded&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You mean the mad doomsday cult?” Kenzie asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why?!” Kenzie and Drew exclaimed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“A few days ago we sent some people out to try to find food. They were captured by the church. Now we are trading you for them and a bit of foor.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And why would they accept us as payment?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Because you are from the infected areas. They can use you in their rites of purification.” The man said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That… doesn’t sound very good.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How can you do this!?” Kenzie asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man turned around and looked at them. “Look, I’m sorry – but they have MY SON!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drew and Kenzie looked at each other; they were screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon they stopped in front of a building that looked vaguely like a church. Mostly it looked like a fortress, with all the windows boarded up and barbed wire all around it. A lot of people were standing outside, looking at them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The men from the skiing lodge brought them up to a man who seemed to be the leader. “Here you have them. Where are our people?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We decided to keep them, but we’ll give you some extra food.” The cult leader said with a smile that can only be described as evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No! We had a deal!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The deal has changed. Now, take your food and go, before I change my mind again.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly Drew and Kenzie noticed that some of the people at the church were armed. The message was clear. The men from the lodge had no choice but to take the food given to them and leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cult leader ordered the prisoners to be taken to the basement, but not in the same room as the infidels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drew and Kenzie did not fight back, but as soon as they were locked in the room they started to look for a way out. They found none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We should have brought the others.” Drew said to Kenzie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“They can take care of themselves.” Kenzie replied&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sure they can, but what about us? If the others had been with us none of this would have happened!” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, sure. Because they are all such combat monkeys!” Kenzie said angrily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No. But Asher is big enough to scare people, and we would at least have been harder to overpower. Maybe that would have been enough to discourage them.” Drew said coldly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They waited for hours without anything happening, but then all of a sudden they heard screams and what sounded an awful lot like gunshots. They stood up and listened for any signs of what might be going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They heard someone running down the stairs to the cellar and they took a chance and started to scream for help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while the door opened and the men from the lodge were standing outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You!” Kenzie said with distaste&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What do you want?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’re taking our boys home, do you want to leave or not?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drew and Kenzie hurried out the door and followed the man up the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the church was complete turmoil. It was swarmed with people, most of whom looked very dirty and bewildered. The cultists were shooting at them and apparently trying to drive them out of the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The six of them managed to exit the cellar without anyone noticing and darted towards the front door. By some miracle they actually managed to get out of the church without being shot, and ran towards another street. Once they had turned a corner they found two cars parked out of sight from the church. The man that had talked to them earlier gave them the key to their own one without a word. They got into the other car and drove off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenzie and Drew wasted no time and quickly got into the car and started driving away. Soon they had passed through the town. When they came to the road block there was no one there, and the car that must have been parked to close the opening was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They went through with all due haste and Kenzie drove as fast as she dared on the slippery winter roads. One hour later they finally arrived at the road block where the police guarded the so far zombie free zone. Kenzie and Drew had not discussed it, but from what they had seen in the church there was no question about it; the infected people were zombies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4966296430269833327?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4966296430269833327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4966296430269833327&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4966296430269833327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4966296430269833327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-18.html' title='Chapter 18'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5519091376834127127</id><published>2009-12-17T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T07:00:02.400+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 17</title><content type='html'>An hour or so after Sasha and Ridley had left there was a knock on the door. Mac and Asher didn’t really expect them to be back so soon, also; they had their own key. Therefore they were a bit nervous when Asher opened the door to peek out. Naturally, he did not see anything but the underside of the stairs, but he did hear a familiar voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Aren’t you going to let us in?” Dalton asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asher opened the door and to his great (and very pleasant) surprise he saw that Kingsley and Lance were also waiting in the stair house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Come inside!” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they entered the hallway was filled up with the young men and their overnight bags. They all hugged Mac and shook Asher’s hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where is Ridley?” Lance asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He and Sasha went to Drew’s place to bring them here. We are planning to leave the city.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ah, great idea! And where are you going?” Dalton wondered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before Asher had time to answer Kingsley interrupted; “Have they gone there all by themselves?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“They took the bikes.” Asher added&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m worried they might get in trouble, how long has it been since they left?” Kingsley asked, looking very concerned&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“About an hour.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hmm.” Dalton said. “Maybe it would be best if we went there to look for them?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But we have no idea of which way they might have gone.” Lance pointed out. “How would we find them, if they are not already at the apartment?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That is all true, but I still think we should go to the apartment and check. I have a bad feeling about this.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, Kingsley was not known to refer to his instincts, but his common sense was well respected by all of them. If he thought that they should go, he was probably right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“All right, we’ll go and see if we find them.” Lance said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t worry, we’ll be right back, I’m sure.” Dalton said reassuringly to Mac and Asher as they left&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten seconds later they knocked on the door again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where does Drew live?” Kingsley asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ll draw a map for you.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“While we are waiting, do you have some coffee?” Dalton asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t think so. I’ll check.” Mac said and went to the kitchen. “No, we don’t. I’m sorry.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, ok. I shall have to do without it for a while longer.” Dalton said, looking a bit disappointed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took a while before Asher had drawn the map and added the necessary explanations, but about thirty minutes later Lance, Dalton and Kingsley arrived at Drew’s apartment. They used the code given to them to open the front door, and walked up the stairs and rang the doorbell. There was no answer. Lance pointed to a bit of paper sticking out from the mailbox. Kingsley carefully drew it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a note from Drew, telling whoever might read the note that she and Kenzie had left for the safe zone four days ago (provided she had gotten the date right).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I didn’t know Kenzie had a car.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Probably her parents’.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So they are not here. But where are Ridley and Sasha?” Dalton wondered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Let’s go outside and wait.” Lance suggested&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They did so, but after standing outside in the cold for ten minutes they decided that they had probably already been there, and gone back again. They started walking towards the car when Kingsley suddenly stopped. He looked towards the university park with a strange look on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What is it?” Dalton asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shush. Be quiet.” Lance said, listening intently to the wind. Apparently he must have heard something because he started running towards the park, closely followed by Kingsley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ll get the car.” Dalton called after them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Lance and Kingsley entered the park they saw a rather frightening sight. A huge mob of people were gathered on the lawn, standing very closely together, and in the middle were Sasha and Ridley!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Help!” They screamed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Have no fear!” Kingsley yelled to them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even from this distance Kingsley and Lance could see the look of surprise in their faces. Right then Dalton arrived with the car and Lance pointed towards the mob. Dalton instantly knew what he meant, and started driving towards the mob, honking his horn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mob scattered and Kingsley and Lance ran up to the terrified Ridley and Sasha and helped them into the car. They were just about to leave when Dalton halted. A girl from the mob had turned around and was now standing right in front of the car, staring at them. Even though she looked terrible, her long hair all messed up, her eyes blood red and her clothes dirty they all recognized her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Isn’t that Eryn?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indeed it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Is she… infected?” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“She sure doesn’t look alright.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She apparently recognized them, because she was talking to them. Or rather, she was trying to talk to them. All that came out was guttural sounds. She was crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What are we going to do?” Dalton asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We have to help her.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But if she has the virus she might spread it to us.” Lance said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We have to do something.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were all quiet for a while. Eryn was lying on the hoof of the car now, all huddled up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Maybe…” Lance said, but then he stopped. “Ok. This is all wrong but… we could perhaps tie her to the roof?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t be silly!” Dalton said. “Unless she is violent we’ll take her in the car.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Said and done. Kingsley and Dalton stepped out of the car and carefully approached Eryn. After a few minutes they concluded that she was no threat, so they put her in the luggage space of the big Volvo and drove back to the apartment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5519091376834127127?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5519091376834127127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5519091376834127127&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5519091376834127127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5519091376834127127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-17.html' title='Chapter 17'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-885859696294209841</id><published>2009-12-16T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T07:00:03.976+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 16</title><content type='html'>In the apartment in the city our friends were doing fine. Of course they didn’t have any coke. Or internet. To be honest they were in withdrawal and the abstinence was putting a real strain on everyone’s nerves. But considering the circumstances that was hardly a concern. By mere chance Ridley had discovered that a morning newspaper from about a week ago had gotten stuck in their neighbor’s slot. Since they had not claimed it yet he decided that it was safe to assume they were not home, and therefore had no use of the paper. So he had brought it home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading it had made them all a bit less concerned about their families. It was stated clearly on the front-page that this was the last paper that would be delivered before the curfew, and therefore contained a lot of information about the situation. They learned that their hometowns were not as affected by the infection as the large cities of the east and south. In fact, there was a safe-zone up north, where Mac’s family lived. And the city where Ridley’s parents lived was as of the printing of the paper (zombie) free. Of course they did not use the word zombie, after all – this was not an evening tabloid – but that’s certainly what they meant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This confirmed the suspicions of our friends regarding the nature of this virus. They were also, to their great relief, informed about how to acquire food. Apparently, you had only to put a sign on your front door and a box with all necessities (filed ration style) would be left outside by the military. Come to think of it Sasha clearly remembered seeing this when they went to look for the school, but she had not had time to think about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They even found out why they had no internet. It actually was rather a coincidence. Their internet was provided by the university, and on the day before the paper was printed, someone had stolen the servers! Asher pledged that he would devote the rest of his life to finding out who did this, and then punish him (or her) “old testament style”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the cell phone service; well, nearly all people in the country used the same operator. And it turned out their network was not dimensioned to handle such massive traffic. Up north, in the more scarcely populated areas it was still in service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I think we should try to get to this safe-zone.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, I suppose.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I think that’s the best we can do in this situation. We can’t just sit here forever, curfew or no curfew.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m worried about my family.” Asher said. “Sure, your families live in the woods where no zombies go, but mine lives right here in the middle of it.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know what to say.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s ok…” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We can’t just ignore them.” Mac said. “If we leave we’ll go and see that they’re safe.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, absolutely.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So it’s agreed then, we will try to find a way to get to the safe zone?” Asher asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But how?” Sasha wondered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“By car, ideally.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“None of us has a drivers’ license…” Mac pointed out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I think that would be the least of our problems if the police should stop us. Besides, you don’t actually need a license to drive a car.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“True. Ok, so who should go and get Drew?” Ridley asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hm. I don’t know. Does anyone volunteer?” Sasha asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I could go.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Whoever goes should take my bike.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That disqualifies me.” Sasha said. “On the other hand I have my own bike…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ll go.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are you sure? I mean; it could be dangerous.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It IS dangerous.” Sasha said. “Therefore I’ll go with you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That’s a good idea. No one should go alone.” Asher agreed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok. It’s dark now, so we should go right away.” Sasha said and stood up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they were preparing to leave, Mac and Asher started to say that if anything happened…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, stop that! Nothing’s going to happen.” Sasha said with a steel voice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asher and Mac looked a bit surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How can you be so sure?” Mac asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Because I won’t let it. This is my life. If my life were a movie, I would make it a romantic comedy or a Disney movie, or possibly a drama (a good one). People don’t die in those kinds of movies. At least not the good ones, and that’s us.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uh… Ok.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Mufasa died in The Lion King.” Ridley pointed out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The exception that confirms the rule.” Sasha said, putting an end to the discussion. “Let’s go.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They went out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“If I were a zombie, and knew she was coming, I’d hide.” Asher said&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-885859696294209841?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/885859696294209841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=885859696294209841&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/885859696294209841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/885859696294209841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-16.html' title='Chapter 16'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4967068348924207042</id><published>2009-12-15T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T07:00:04.953+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 15</title><content type='html'>Aidan, Jackson, Boris and Shae were driving along the road to Jackson’s parents, and the safe zone. They were not talking much, still too shocked after the experience earlier that day. Boris was questioning them about details about the mob of people who had been chasing them, analyzing the situation thoroughly. His conclusion was that either people had gone a bit more mad than usual, or this was the zombie apocalypse. This did not cheer the others up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Driving on a deserted road had its upsides. By the pace Aidan was holding up they would arrive in no time. Unfortunately, they ran into a bit of problem. First, they got a flat tire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Can you believe it, a flat tire?! I have never gotten a flat tire before!” Aidan complained, while the others watched him change the tire. Boris would have helped, but he was really consumed in his drawing. Being chased by zombies (or mad men) had really inspired him a lot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“At least you had a spare one.” Shae said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Of course I did. Do you think I would go on a long trip without bringing an extra tire?” Aidan asked, not expecting an answer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, most people consider the emergency tire enough.” Jackson said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Luckily for us, I am not most people.” Aidan said. “You can never be too careful.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Spoken like a true… I… can’t come up with anything that fits.” Jackson said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pragmatist?” Shae suggested&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well-prepared-for-the-zombie-apocalypse-man.” Boris said. “I don’t think there’s a word for it. Yet…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Done.” Aidan said. “Let’s go.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were off again. The extra tire was actually one of Aidan’s summer tires, and not at all suitable for winter driving. Therefore he had to drive much slower from then on. But they had made a good distance before, so they would not arrive overly late anyhow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least that’s what they though. Until they ran into a police car. The policeman driving the car seemed a bit surprised to see other traffic. At first it seemed like he would let them pass, but then he signaled to them to stop. Reluctantly Aidan was forced to admit that his car could never out speed a police car, especially with the summer tire on. He stopped and lowered the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two policemen stepped out of the car and walked up to them. One of them started inspecting the car, while the other started speaking to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hello there.” He said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hi.” Aidan answered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I see you are on your way somewhere.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes. We’re going to the safe zone up north.” Aidan said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The policeman instantly noticed his accent, even though he did his best to hide it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I hear you are from our dear neighboring country… And so is your car.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes. That’s correct.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Did you recently arrive in this country?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sir that depends upon the definition of ‘recently’ – I have been here for about a fortnight.” Aidan responded politely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Then you are aware that there is a curfew.” The policeman said, it was not a question&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes sir.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Then why are you out driving?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“As I said, we are going to the safe-zone to the north of here. My friends are going home to their families, and offered me to join.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are you also aware that all foreigners were recommended to leave the country last week, before the curfew became effective?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes of course. I merely decided against it.” Aidan said with a smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why?” The policeman did not return the smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Because, these are my friends. If they are in danger, I could not abandon them for anything in the world.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Speak for yourself.” Boris muttered in the backseat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Excuse me?” The policeman said, looking at Boris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shae elbowed Boris very hard in the ribs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I said that it goes both ways. We would do the same for you my friend!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other policeman drew the first one to the side and talked a bit to him. After a minute or so he went back to the car, while the first one said to Aidan: “You are free to continue. But if I see you again I will arrest you all. Oh and by the way, don’t be so sure they’ll let you into the safe-zone. It’s safe for a reason.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Jerk.” Jackson said. “Let’s go before he notices the tire and stop us for that.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They went on their way again and soon arrived at Jackson’s parents. They were thrilled to see their son and greeted them all warmly, asking about the past few weeks and cooking them dinner. They were safe, for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4967068348924207042?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4967068348924207042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4967068348924207042&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4967068348924207042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4967068348924207042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-15.html' title='Chapter 15'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-616266311477199390</id><published>2009-12-14T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T07:00:04.460+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 14</title><content type='html'>Kenzie and Drew were driving on a snowy, windy road in the middle of nowhere. All around them were nothing but trees. It was a beautiful winters’ night. With no lights to disturb their night vision they could enjoy a sky littered with stars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I had forgotten how beautiful the sky can be.”  Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, it’s always too bright in the city.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And too noisy.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes. That to.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They drove on in silence. Soon they approached a small town, about halfway between Kenzie’s hometown and the safe zone. They had not seen a single person on their way there, but all of a sudden they saw a whole group of people running away into the trees when they saw the car approaching. Kenzie slowed down and looked confusedly at Drew, who shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenzie started driving, but then a man from the group came running back towards them. Kenzie hesitated a bit, but since the man was not carrying a gun she decided to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hi. Are you going to drive through the town?” The man asked, looking very nervous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, yes. Where else would we go?” Kenzie said with a fair deal of irritation. All these delays!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t! They will catch you!” The man said. He looked terrified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Who?” Drew asked. “The… infected?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nono… they killed those. But now they put everyone else in holding.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Damn. This is the last thing we needed now. But we’re only gonna drive through, we won’t even get out of the car.” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It doesn’t matter. They’re fanatics. Besides, I heard they’ve put up roadblocks…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’re not from around here, are you? You speak a different dialect.” Kenzie interrupted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“N-no…” The man stammered. “Me and my family came here for a holiday. We’re staying up in the cottages.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ah… I see.” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are there many of you?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“About two dozen. We used to be more but… Some went into town and they never came back.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drew raised her eyebrows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thank you for your warning.” Kenzie said. “Would you excuse us for a moment?” She asked him as kindly as possible, and he agreed to stay for a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What are you thinking?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m thinking that it would take us half a day to go back and take another way.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You want to drive through town anyway?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No. If what the man said about the roadblock is true we’re screwed.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So let’s turn back then.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m getting tired again, and I’m not the best of drivers. I think it would be best if we stayed with these people for the night.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenzie waved to the man, who walked up to her. He looked very nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Can we stay with you for the night?” She asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I guess. But we don’t have any food to spare.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That’s ok. We just need a good night’s rest before we turn back.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“All right. Come with us.” The man said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But we can’t leave the car.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ll ride with you and show the way.” The man said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenzie’s eyes narrowed. When Drew saw that she elbowed her and whispered:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“If you don’t trust the man why did you agree to stay the night with them?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenzie reluctantly allowed the man to enter the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He signaled towards the trees and another man came walking. He spoke to him quickly, and then got into the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He directed them to a large skiing lodge and hurried them inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were greeted by two more men. At that moment both Kenzie and Drew realized it was a trap. They started screaming as the men seized them and dragged them into a room without windows and locked the door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-616266311477199390?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/616266311477199390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=616266311477199390&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/616266311477199390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/616266311477199390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-14.html' title='Chapter 14'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3081016540226728640</id><published>2009-12-13T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T07:00:01.764+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 13</title><content type='html'>Dalton, Kingsley and Lance were driving along a small winding road somewhere in the countryside. Dalton and Kingsley were no longer sure of where they were, but Lance seemed sure of himself. They had spent the last two days driving back and forth in the central part of the country. Every now and then Lance would stop outside a building and leave the car. Each time he told the others to stay in the car. He was so authoritative that even Dalton and Kingsley decided not to question him. Whatever he was doing he was dealing with some rather shady looking people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So… where are we going now?” Kingsley asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“To a small town a few kilometers north of here. Then I’m done.” He answered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And then you’ll drive us home?” Dalton asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Not quite yet. The city where Ridley lives is not far from here… I think we’d better go and check up on him.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That would probably be a good idea. God knows what he might have gotten himself into by now.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m not too worried. He has Sasha and the others to look after him.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“My point exactly.” Kingsley said with a grunt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later Lance pulled up in front of a small house in the outskirts of a small town.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he left the car he turned to say something, but Dalton interrupted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’ll stay in the car, like good little children.” There was a hint of cold irritation in his voice, but his face was impassive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What do you think he’s up to?” Kingsley asked, as Lance walked up to the house and rang the doorbell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I haven’t the slightest idea. But I’m very curious…” Dalton said and looked at Kingsley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kingsley smiled and got out of the car. He darted across the driveway up to the house and peeked in through a window. After a second or two he went on to the next window. He turned to Dalton and shook his head. Then he gestured that he was going to go around the house. Dalton nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kingsley walked around the house, checking each window. Finally he reached the back of the house and noticed light coming from a cellar window. He ran up and carefully looked into the room. He could see Lance and a strange man talking and looking at some rather large containers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They seemed to agree, because they shook hands and then loaded some of the containers into a box that Lance brought with him as he started walking up the stairs. Kingsley ran back to the car and got in before Lance opened the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Did you see anything?” Dalton asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, he bought something. I did not see what it was though.” Kingsley said with an expressionless face, just as Lance appeared in the doorway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Do you have any idea what it might have been?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Probably something liquid.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they both put on a mask of boredom, as Lance put the box in the trunk and got into the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shall we go then?” He asked with a smile. He looked very satisfied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Please do. I’m freezing to death in here.” Dalton said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And I’m tired of sleeping in the car.” Kingsley added&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Aren’t you curious of what I have been doing these past two days?” Lance asked with a sneaky look on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nah. Not really.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Funny… Because I can’t think of any other reason why you’d sneak around peeking through windows.” He said and smiled at Kingsley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“ So, are you going to tell us?” Dalton asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No. I think not.” Lance said teasingly. “Unless you can guess what it was. Then I won’t deny it.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Just shut up and drive.” Kingsley said&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3081016540226728640?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3081016540226728640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3081016540226728640&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3081016540226728640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3081016540226728640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-13_13.html' title='Chapter 13'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-8384703425930285984</id><published>2009-12-12T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T07:00:01.942+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 12</title><content type='html'>After a very uncomfortable mornings sleep our friends woke up in a cold, dark storage. They had not slept well, and they were miserable. They ate some bread from the food they had stolen the previous night, and contemplated their situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Military or not, I have to go to the bathroom!” Mac announced&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other agreed wholeheartedly. They even had to play rock-paper-scissors to decide who would get to go first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the others started a drawn out tournament, Sasha simply went downstairs. When she got back up the others had just decided that Mac would go first, so she went next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before she went to the bathroom, however, she dared venture to the front door to see if there was anyone around. To her great relief there was no sign of the military any longer. They must have left when they couldn’t find them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon they were all sitting in the storage room again, looking at their bounty. It consisted mainly of bread and bread. There was some butter and caviar as well. The cheese was green, and they hadn’t even bothered to bring the milk – it would have been sour by now anyway. They did have some sour milk, but they were all a bit suspicious about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The real find was several kilos of pasta and some ketchup, and of course the obligatory rose hip soup with almond puffs. Ridley had brought some gruel as well. It might not look much, but it was better than nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So, do we stay up here or do we go downstairs?” Asher asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I think we should go downstairs.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Is that wise? What if the military is still outside?” Ridley protested&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I looked when I went downstairs – they’re gone.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Let’s go then.” Asher said and stood up. He really missed his computer, even though it had no internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They packed up the food and dragged everything back to the apartment. Once inside they realized that they were still tired, and went to bed. Many hours later Sasha woke up with the feeling that something was missing. She looked beside her. But Ridley was still there, sleeping. What could it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went into the kitchen and poured some water in a glass. While she drank she poked around in the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator – but it was nearly empty, nothing but ketchup and butter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“If only I had some chocolate.” She thought. “Yes! That’s what’s missing!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that moment Mac entered the kitchen, and looked at Sasha’s exited face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What are you thinking about?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Chocolate.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ahh…” Mac said, and realized she had a huge craving for chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Did someone say chocolate?” Asher said, sticking his head out of his room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We don’t have any.” Sasha said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What’s going on?” Ridley said with a yawn as he entered the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We don’t have any chocolate.” Mac said sadly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They fell into silence for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hang on…” Sasha said, and started going through her cupboard. “Ok, I have all the ingredients save one; cocoa.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Cocoa?” Mac said incredulously. “But you always have cocoa!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I know!” Sasha said. “I don’t know what’s happened to it!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asher and Ridley glanced at each other. They looked very guilty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha’s eyes narrowed. “What?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uhm… So we might have used some cocoa a couple of weeks ago, when you were out.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Do I even want to know?” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No.” Asher said firmly. “You really don’t.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I think…” Mac said, but fell silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asher looked at her very intently. “Yes?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I think there might have been some cocoa in the daycare center…” She said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh dear.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I will get it for you!” Ridley said, looking very determined&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t think it’s a very good idea…” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nonsense! I will get it and that’s that!” Ridley said and went to the hallway. “Do you remember where you saw it, Mac?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I think it was in the cupboard to the left of the refrigerator. Behind the flour.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ll be back in a minute.” Ridley said and went out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 minutes of long, nervous waiting later, he came back – carrying a large packet of cocoa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha hugged him hard and then she grabbed the package and ran to the kitchen. 3 hours later she emerged, covered in flour and cocoa, but looking very satisfied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It will be done in one and a half hour.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They sat down in the living room, reading books and talking. 2 hours later Sasha retrieved the chocolate and they all dug in. It was by far the best chocolate they had ever tasted. Perhaps because the ingredients were stolen, and it had been prepared with such love and care. They all agreed that it had been a great day – epic, even.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-8384703425930285984?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/8384703425930285984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=8384703425930285984&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8384703425930285984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8384703425930285984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-12.html' title='Chapter 12'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4100715822249841073</id><published>2009-12-11T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T07:00:03.992+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 11</title><content type='html'>“Stop that! Take your hands away from Boris’ neck, Aidan. Killing him won’t help.” Jackson said, pulling at Aidan’s arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Who the hell is this maniac!” Boris yelled. “And why does he speak so strange?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He’s Drew’s… friend.” Shae said. “Please calm down!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally Aidan let go of Boris’ neck and sat back in his seat. They were still parked outside the mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Like I said, I need to drop the present off at my mom’s place.” Boris said. “Please, I haven’t seen her in 3 weeks.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked so sad that Jackson could not withstand him. “Ok, let’s go to his mom. I t won’t take long.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan looked at him for a while, and then he sighed. “Fine.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They started driving. It was not hard to get out of the city, and it took them about an hour to get to the town where Boris’  mom lived. Unfortunately Boris seemed to have forgotten the way. They drove around aimlessly for half an hour before Aidan stopped, refusing to drive an other inch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Suit yourself. I’ll walk.” Boris said and slammed the door as he left the car. “It’s somewhere nearby here, I’m certain.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, We’ll wait for you here.” Jackson said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No way! We have to get going!” Aidan said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We will wait for an hour, Boris. But then we leave, ok?” Shae said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Muh.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boris started walking towards the street that looked most like his mother’s street. She had moved there quite recently, so he hadn’t quite learnt the way yet. The street however, was not the right one, so he turned left after a while. This was not the right street either, but it looked very familiar. At the next crossing he looked in all directions for a few minutes. His memory told him to keep going straight ahead, but his gut told him to take a left. He decided to trust his gut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the street he did not find his mother’s house, but a small street shop. He recognized the shop very well, they had delicious hamburgers…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently it had not been his gut, but his stomach, speaking. Oh, well. He knew where he was now, so he turned around and walked back up to the cross and took a left. Soon enough he arrived at his mother’s place, and walked up the stairs and went inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, the others waited for him in the car. It was a bit cold so they decided to get out for a short walk. They walked slowly in a circle on a small field next to the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly they heard a sound from a group of trees. They froze and stared. After a few seconds a man emerged. He was covered in dirt. He looked like he had been rolling in mud. His jeans were torn and he had what looked like dried blood on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as he saw them he started running towards them, making some odd noises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Quick, get in the car!” Aidan said in a commanding voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had no problem outrunning the man and jumped into the car and locked the doors. The man ran up and started banging on the windows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked horrible. His face was indeed covered in blood. He was screaming, but not words - just guttural sounds. And his eyes were red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He… he’s a zombie!” Aidan said in astonishment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Boris!” Shae called out in terror&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We have to find him, he doesn’t know about them!” Jackson said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan started the car and sped off towards the corner where Boris had disappeared. At the first cross he stopped and looked desperately in all directions. They had no idea of where Boris had gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan was just about to turn to the right, when he saw someone in the distance up ahead. It was Boris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hurry!” Shae screamed. “There are more of them coming!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From all around dirty looking people were moving towards their car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan started off towards Boris with the wheels screeching. The zombies ran behind them. He halted beside the surprised Boris and opened the side door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Get in!” Jackson said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boris looked at the horde of people running towards the car and quickly decided to do as they said. He had been on his way to tell them he would stay at his mother’s house. But when he saw the people outside, he reconsidered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Should we get your mother?” Aidan asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“She’s not home. She left a note on the table. Apparently she went on a last minute trip to Spain last week.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok. Let’s go north now.” Jackson said. “It’s about time we went to the safe zone.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You didn’t tell me there were zombies. Zombies! I can’t believe it!” Aidan screamed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We didn’t know.” Shae said quietly. “We thought…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” Boris said with a smile. “What are you waiting for? Go!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan did so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4100715822249841073?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4100715822249841073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4100715822249841073&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4100715822249841073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4100715822249841073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-11.html' title='Chapter 11'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-8360687889058992776</id><published>2009-12-10T07:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T07:00:05.823+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 10</title><content type='html'>Drew and Kenzie were sitting at a dinner table with Kenzie’s parents. They were eating dinner. Despite the perhaps seemingly unwelcoming greeting they’d gotten earlier that morning Kenzie’s parents were happy to see them. Apparently the virus had not really gotten hold over the countryside. People simply lived too far away from each other for it to spread properly. The local grocery stores were even open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if they had arrived from any other direction they would have been stopped in road blocks. Trucks carrying food (and beer) were let through – but only with an escort. No one from outside was allowed to exit their cars while passing through the city, or town, I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I still don’t understand how you managed to take more than 12 hours to go from the city to here. It should have taken you 3 or 4.” Kenzie’s dad said with a laugh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, it was dark and we were driving on really small roads, ok?” Kenzie defended herself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But it really has given us a major problem; we’re almost out of gas.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That is indeed a problem.” Kenzie’s dad said. “But you don’t really have to leave – you could just stay here.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I really want to get to my parents. They are probably worrying to death over there.” Drew said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where did you get that car anyway?” Kenzie’s mom asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenzie and Drew looked at each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uhm, we borrowed it from… Asher’s uncle.” Kenzie said, and Drew nodded vigorously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenzie’s parents looked at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I see.” Kenzie’s mom said. “Let’s just hope no one ever finds out.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You should probably make sure that car disappears when you get there.” Kenzie’s dad said. “No reason to get a criminal record because of some silly curfew.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So the curfew is not valid here?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Not exactly. But who’s going to enforce it – the national guard?” Kenzie’s mom said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Let’s not be unfair; they did try.” Kenzie’s mom said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What happened?” Kenzie asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, no one really takes them seriously. And besides, there are more hunters around here than there are guards. Let’s just say that they lack firepower…” Kenzie’s dad said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenzie raised her eyebrows slightly. “So, where can we find diesel?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Down at the transport company you should be able to get it. Here, take my card.” Kenzie’s dad said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, let’s go.” Kenzie said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thank you for the food. It was delicious.” Drew said with a smile (scoring some points with Kenzie’s mom)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they walked to the car Drew asked Kenzie “Don’t they want you to stay?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sure they do, but they can’t exactly ground me, can they?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They drove to the transportation company through some back roads, avoiding the town centre. They could see a few people out walking, and many of them waved when they recognized Kenzie, even though Kenzie had no idea of who most of them were. They drove up to the pump and started to fill up the car. It did not take long, but just when they were about to drive off another car came driving and blocked their way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two men got out of the car and walked towards them. They were carrying shotguns. Drew and Kenzie looked at each other. Kenzie looked up in the mirror and saw another car driving up from behind. They were trapped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the men with the guns arrived Kenzie lowered her window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey.” She said to the man outside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey.” He answered, looking intently at Kenzie. “Are you from around here?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, I’m Kenzie Hanson.” She said, hoping that he’d recognize her name&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I see.” The man said, with no sign of recognition. “And are you going somewhere?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nah, just filling it up.” Kenzie lied for reasons she could not explain, even to herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You need a permit for that. One car per household is the rule. I can see your car is not marked.” The man said pointing at a red sticker of the windscreen of his car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uhm…” Kenzie was rapidly approaching panic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hi there mini-Hanson!”  A familiar voice called out from behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man that Kenzie recognized very well had stepped out of the car behind and walked up to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He nodded to the man with the gun. “How are you?”  He asked Kenzie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Fine, and you? How are the kids?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’re great. The kids don’t need to go to school, so they’re happy.” The man said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They chatted for a while, both completely ignoring the man with the gun, who was looking more and more impatient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Look, man, she was fueling up her unmarked car without permit.” The gunman finally interrupted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are you still here?” The friendly man asked and looked at him with a cold face. “Don’t you have other places to patrol?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I won’t let her drive away, and if you try to stop me I’ll put you all in the isolation camp!” The man said and actually raised his gun towards the friendly man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He, however, remained calm. “My friend back in the car has his rifle aimed at your head, and will fire at my signal.”  He said coldly. “You know him, don’t you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man with the gun nodded, but he did not lower his gun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Then you probably know that he was a ranger in the military and that he was in the Olympics in shooting?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the man with the shotgun looked very nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I suggest that you and your friend lower those guns, and get back in your car and drive away.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man with the gun hesitated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Now.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He lowered his gun and nodded to his friend to go back to the car. Before they drove off he stared at the friendly man with hatred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What are you doing here?! I thought you were far away in the city.” The man turned to Kenzie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’re on our way to the safe-zone.” Kenzie said. “My dad did not warn me about this…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He probably didn’t even know of it, they formed up a local ‘protection committee’ last night. You’d better get going before anything else happens.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Would he really have shot him?” Kenzie asked, nodding towards the car behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Who, him? Nah, why would he bring his rifle to town?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-8360687889058992776?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/8360687889058992776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=8360687889058992776&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8360687889058992776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8360687889058992776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-10.html' title='Chapter 10'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-113728696462044892</id><published>2009-12-09T07:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T07:00:06.726+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 9</title><content type='html'>“Do you think they’re gone now?” Sasha asked in a hushed voice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’ve been standing here for 3 hours now, if they’re not gone by now we’re doomed anyway.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So, should we open the door?” Ridley asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, I’m starving. Let’s go home.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridley opened the door to the garbage room slowly, and peeked out. It was still dark, obviously, but the sky had cleared and the moon lit up the night somewhat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t see anybody.” He reported&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, let’s go.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With their hearts hammering in their chests they quickly left the room and started running towards their apartment. It took them about one minute to get inside the safety of their apartment, but it felt like much longer for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cold and hungry they sat down to eat the last of their sandwiches, without anything on them – they were even out of butter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’re doomed.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of them wanted to pretest but they knew she was right. Obviously Ridley had no idea of where the school actually was, at least not from this direction. And being chased by that mob had convinced them beyond any doubt that it was not safe to go outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What do you think they were doing?” Mac asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dunno. Protesting against the military, perhaps?” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Whatever they were after they scared the shit out of me!” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But without food we’re dead!” Sasha said with a hint of desperation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Is there anywhere else we can get food from?” Mac asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I think I remember where the school is now. It’s next to the store.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So it’s not safe to go there anyway.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“There’s another school on the way to the big store.” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Too far away.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all sat in silence, trying to come up with a solution. After several minutes Sasha sighed and walked up to the window. She parted the blinds a bit so that she could peek out, and suddenly her eyes went wide open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What’s the matter?” Ridley asked and rushed to her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t believe we’re so stupid!” Sasha exclaimed. “The daycare center right outside our house should have some food.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That they should!” Asher said. “We should go there at once.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“All of us?” Mac asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“After that thing earlier tonight I for sure don’t want to split up, besides: if we find food we need to get it home as well.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, let’s go then.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wait! What if we run into that mob again?”  Asher said. “Don’t we need some kind of protection?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Like what? What weapons do we have?” Ridley said and looked around himself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all started going through their stuff and soon came up with a small pile of potentially useful things: A blunt ornamental great sword, an even blunter ornamental katana, a slightly broken –  but sharp – cane sword, a thin metal bar and a heavy frying pan…  as well as some kitchen knives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Right. I’ll go with this.” Asher said, lifting up the great sword&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mac could not help laughing at him – he looked so proud. “I’ll take this.” She said and picked up the metal bar. “Maybe it will do some good.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha decided that the frying pan was too heavy, and that no one would take her seriously if she waved around with a kitchen knife. So she took a huge IKEA bag to carry food in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridley really wanted to use his cane sword, but once the others had convinced him that it was more dangerous to him than anyone else he went into the closet and found the mop-shaft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again they put their clothes on and went out to the front door. They watched for any sign of activity outside, but all was quiet. They opened the door and dashed across the road, to the daycare center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently no one else had thought of raiding it, because all windows were intact and the door was locked. After a short debate they decided to climb up on the roof, and try to find a way in there. After a bit of struggling Mac and Ridley got up and looked around. Since this was a small one story building, there was no way to get in from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nope.” Ridley said as he landed on the ground&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I told you.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So how do we get in?” Asher asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We break a window.” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What if there is an alarm?” Mac asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“True…” Ridley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok. Let’s do it like this: we break the window and run to the kitchen. We grab everything we can find that is edible and run the hell out of here before someone comes.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That doesn’t sound like a very good plan.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What else are we going to do?” Mac said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Besides, we have these now!” Ridley said, waving his mop-shaft&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ready?” Asher asked, looking at the others&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all nodded&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“For pony!” Asher yelled and threw a huge stone through the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An alarm immediately started beeping very loudly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asher thrust his sword through the window, making the opening big enough for him to pass through safely, and ran inside. The others followed quickly, looking nervously behind them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They quickly found the kitchen and started going through the refrigerator and cupboards. Since this was a day care center they did not really have all that much food, but they grabbed everything they found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, let’s go now!” Mac yelled over the noise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they went out through the broken window they could see a pair of headlights moving towards them on the other side of the field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hurry! To the back.” Sasha yelled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They ran as fast as they could to the back of their building, and in through their backdoor, that Sasha had left open. They closed the door and had to resist the urge to run into the closet and hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Did you see who they were?” Ridley asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It was the military.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are you sure?” Mac asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Absolutely.” Asher said with a firm look&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What if they come looking for us? They might have heat-cameras.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Though I seriously doubt that they have heat cameras, it might be a good idea to go up to the storage room and stay there for a while.” Asher said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They sneaked out into the stairway and looked nervously towards the day care center. There was indeed two military patrols there, searching the area for whoever broke through the window. They were pointing at the ground at all the tracks that the mob had made. Luckily these concealed their own tracks very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They snuck upstairs and opened the door to their storage and went inside. With them they had all the food they had just stolen, and pillows and covers. They were spending the night there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-113728696462044892?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/113728696462044892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=113728696462044892&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/113728696462044892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/113728696462044892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-9.html' title='Chapter 9'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-7104334104153680539</id><published>2009-12-08T07:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T07:00:05.100+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 8</title><content type='html'>Dalton landed at the international airport in his motherland in the middle of the day. Obviously he had heard about the terrible virus spreading across the nation – before boarding the plane he had to sign a thick stack of legal works, taking full responsibility for his own safety. But he had concluded that it must be some over cautious official who came up with that. I mean, how bad could it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He picked up his bags and started moving towards the customs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Fancy meeting you here.” A voice said from behind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalton turned around and to his great pleasure discovered that it was no one less than his old friend Lance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I could say the same.” He said, shaking Lance’s hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How long have you been here?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I just landed. I’m on my way to the exit.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Big mistake. The guards will either refuse you entering or put you in quarantine. If you want to get home you’ll need to another way.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Seriously? It’s that bad?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know what they’ve told you over there, but there’s a military curfew.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wow. That’s bad. Why the hell didn’t they stop us from going here?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Didn’t you have to sign a neat stack of legal documents before going here?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, yes. But I thought that was just some bureaucratic nonsense.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It wasn’t.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh well, never mind. I would have come here anyway. Do you know a way past those guards?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No, I’ve been here for three days, but I haven’t found one yet.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Gentlemen!” A voice called from a few meters away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The two young men looked up, and to their great surprise they saw Kingsley. I don’t really know why that would surprise them really, since he was living in the same country as Dalton.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I suppose you both came here without knowing how to get past those guards?” Kingsley said after he had shaken their hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, yes.” Dalton said. “I didn’t realize that it was so bad.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well. It doesn’t really make a difference. I tried to get on a plane to a neighboring country, but they refused. For some insane reason we are only allowed to travel to our home country.” Kingsley said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So you went here, even though you knew there was a curfew?” Lance asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Of course! I have to get to my family, and make sure they are safe.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalton nodded. “I would have done the same.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So how do we get past those guards?” Lance nodded towards the exit, where a heavily armored military squad was standing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey! That’s my buddy from the platoon.” Dalton said when he recognized one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked straight up to the guard, with the others following a bit behind, and grabbed his hand. “Hello! It’s great to meet you man!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uh… hi.” The guard said a bit confusedly. He had recognized Dalton immediately, but he did not really know what to do with his gun, and the other guards were staring at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“They put our lot in charge of the airport?” Dalton asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes. Because of our language skills.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, of course!” Dalton said. “My plane just arrived. I have to report to my officer right away.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uhm… I’m not sure really. I’m sorry, I can’t let you pass.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t worry, they’re expecting me. I was called home from my studies to go back into service. They need every man they can get.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guard looked hesitant. His officer had gone to the bathroom a few minutes ago, so he was now in charge of this checkpoint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, come on! You know how angry the captain get’s if you’re late. I don’t want to think about what he’d do to you if he found out you had stalled me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that scared the guard more than his own weapon was the captain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“All right, but don’t tell anyone, ok?” The guard said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kingsley looked at the other guards, standing right behind him, looking very astonished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uh, sir…” One of them said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Quiet, private!” The guard said. “This man was in the same platoon as me. He is going to report to the captain.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guard opened the gate and stepped to the side, to let Dalton pass through. Kingsley and Lance hesitated, but Dalton motioned them to follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey! Who are they?” The guard asked nervously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“They’re also in our division. The year before us.” Dalton said and leaned forward to whisper in the guard’s ear. “They’re military intelligence, ok. If you expose them they’ll send you to Afghanistan as punishment!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guard looked like at Lance and Kingsley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kingsley made no expression whatsoever. His face was a stone cold mask. Lance, on the other hand, looked very secretive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guard went pale and looked like he was going to start crying. He let them pass right away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They wasted no time, but ran jogged out to the parking lots, where Lance had his car parked. By sheer luck they managed to sneak out of the airport just between two patrols.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How the hell did that man manage to get through military training?” Lance asked as they turned off the motorway and onto a smaller one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“As far as I know he is the only person in this country that speaks a tribal language of Iran and is in no way suspected of being a terrorist.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-7104334104153680539?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/7104334104153680539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=7104334104153680539&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7104334104153680539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7104334104153680539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-8.html' title='Chapter 8'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-8396212609366700964</id><published>2009-12-07T07:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T11:23:08.497+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 7</title><content type='html'>The next morning Aidan woke up to the smell of pancakes. As he looked into the kitchen he could see Jackson and Shae standing at the stove. Beside them on the counter was a sizeable plate of fresh pancakes. Suddenly Aidan was dizzy with hunger, and his stomach made a loud noise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, you’re awake!” Jackson said and turned around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You could HEAR that?” Aidan asked amazedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sweetie, I think you could wake up a whole house.” Shae said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan blushed with embarrassment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t worry about it. You should hear my stomach roaring when I’m hungry!” Jackson said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shae nodded at him. “It’s like a druid tank.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Come and help us kill these.” Jackson said, pointing at the plate of pancakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They sat down and somehow managed to finish the whole plate. Guess they were hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thank you so much guys, but I really have to get going again.” Aidan said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where to?” Jackson asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“To the city where Drew lives.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But she’s not going to be there when you get there.” Jackson said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What! Why not?” Aidan asked. He looked very upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Her dad runs a safe-zone north of here, in her hometown. I’m sure she’s found a way to get there by now.” Shae said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh. How do I get there?” Aidan asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well. It just so happens that WE are going there to – and we know the way!” Jackson said with a huge smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Great! Let’s go then.” Aidan said and started to move towards the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Whoa now, slow down man! We have to pack our bags.” Jackson said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan looked at them in complete helplessness. Then he sat down on the couch with a resigned look on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jackson and Shae started to do the dishes, and then went to have a shower. It took them more than an hour to get ready and packed. Aidan was miserable but realized that there was nothing he could to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, let’s go.” Jackson said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Finally!” Aidan said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shae and Jackson smiled at his impatience: so cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, were do we go?” Aidan said as they started the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Take a left here.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But the sign there says to go in the other direction.” Aidan protested&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, but first we’re going to town. I have to get Christmas presents for my parents.” (“And Shae” he mouthed)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan nearly drove into the ditch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey! Take it easy there!” Jackson said holding on to the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How are you even going to buy something when all the shops are closed because of the curfew?” Aidan tried to reason with Jackson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jackson smiled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was hopeless. Aidan would have to go along with this idiocy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They drove into the city center and had no trouble finding a parking spot next to the city center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Now, be very quiet out there,” Jackson said. “or we will attract the attention of them.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Who?” Aidan asked. “The military?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No, the… mob.” Shae said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You mean the mafia?” Aidan asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No silly! In terms that you will understand: the horde.” Jackson explained. “And I’m not talking about sworn enemies of the Alliance...”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my God! Are you serious!? Are there ZOMBIES out there?” Aidan screamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shut up!” Jackson wheezed. “Be quiet for God’s sake!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We don’t think that they’re actually zombies, Aidan, but they certainly do act in a strange way. Whenever someone makes a lot of noise they all come running from everywhere. No one knows what they want – everyone just runs away as fast as they can.”  Shae said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I see.” Aidan said. “And you want to go Christmas shopping.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Do you have any idea of how sad my mom would be if I didn’t get her something?” Jackson asked rhetorically. “Any way, let’s get going.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They left the car and started walking towards the very closed mall. Aidan had no idea of how Jackson intended to get in there, and neither had Jackson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Psst.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What was that!” Aidan said. “Did you hear that?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hear what?” Jackson asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Psssssst!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I didn’t hear anything.” Jackson said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I heard it.” Shae said quietly, but Jackson did not hear her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pssst! Up here.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time Jackson heard it to and they all looked up around them. On a balcony up in the mall a familiar looking boy was standing, jumping up and down with excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Finally! Are you deaf or something?” He said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Boris!” Jackson said with a huge smile. “Boy am I glad to see you!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You know this guy?” Aidan asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How did you get in there?” Shae asked Boris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, I was sitting in the dressing room in a store, reading a very interesting comic book – here look.” He pulled out something of his backpack that looked vaguely like X-Men, or possibly Transformers. It might even be Bamse, on this distance it was hard to determine. “And then I guess they shut down the mall because of the virus.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You didn’t notice everyone leaving?” Aidan asked with disbelief&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I was really caught up in the story, OK!” Boris said defensively&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Can you get us in there somehow?” Jackson asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sure thing. I was just about to use this rope to climb down, but I’m sure it works both ways.” Boris grinned&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure enough there was a rather sturdy rope hanging from the balcony. After a bit of effort they all managed to climb up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why do you want to get in here anyway?” Boris asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I have to buy Christmas presents.” Jackson explained, while Aidan was rolling his eyes behind his back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boris looked a bit confused and was about to ask who the dude was when he realized what Jackson had just said. “Oh, man! I had COMPLETELY forgotten about that. I have to get something for my mom.” He turned around and headed into the mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan looked at Shae, who shrugged and followed Boris. Aidan looked at Jackson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“After you.” Jackson motioned towards the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They walked inside the empty mall. All the stores were still open, but it was pitch black. Not even the emergency light worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Over here, let’s get you some flashlights.” Boris called from the other end of the mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They followed him up the still escalator and into a store that had a vast supply of everything you might need. When they passed the computer section Aidan had to fight the urge to grab something. They quickly find some flashlights and headed downstairs again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uhm, could you please stay in one store for a while?” Jackson asked Shae&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shae looked very happy and headed off towards her favorite store. After half an hour or so they all gathered up again. Jackson was carrying a huge bag full of wrapped up presents. Boris was carrying a beautiful vase, and even Aidan was carrying a few packages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I might as well get something to.” He said and blushed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Good initiative.” Jackson smiled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Aren’t you going to wrap that vase?” Shae asked Boris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Muh? Oh, yeah… I probably should.” He headed off to the store upstairs, where he knew they had the necessary supplies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shae followed him. She did not trust his ability to do it properly and after a few minutes of fumbling she kindly pointed out that he might want to use a box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 minutes later they were done and after another 15 minutes they had solved the logistical problem of getting all the presents down to the street. They went to the car and quickly loaded everything inside. The trunk was now quite full of stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So where are we going?” Boris asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“To the safe-zone up north.” Aidan said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Great, but first I need to drop the present off at my moms place…” Boris said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What!?” Aidan exclaimed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“…in case I don’t see her again before Christmas. Who are you anyway?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-8396212609366700964?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/8396212609366700964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=8396212609366700964&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8396212609366700964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8396212609366700964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter7.html' title='Chapter 7'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4166993551585440951</id><published>2009-12-06T07:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T22:54:07.058+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 6</title><content type='html'>Far away from the city Aidan was driving along a motorway. He had been doing so for quite a while now. 20 hours earlier he had left his home and started off in what would seem like the wrong direction. It certainly was a long way around, but he couldn’t exactly just drive up to the border and expect to be let through. So instead he had gone north, up to the mountains, where he could easily find a small road into the neighboring country that wasn’t guarded by the military.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From there he had turned south, back to the highway between the two capitals. He realized that this was ridiculously much longer than if he had continued on the small roads up north, but he did know the way around up there, and he did not have an atlas. But now he was driving on the highway with absolutely no traffic whatsoever, and thus he was not exactly obeying the speed limits. Actually he was driving much faster than he thought his car could go…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that manner he soon arrived at a city that he recognized. He knew for a fact that one of his friends, Jackson, was living there. Two days before they had spoken on the internet, and when Aidan told him about his plans, Jackson had given him his address. Aidan needed to sleep, and he’d rather do that in a safe place, but the problem was that he did not really know the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All he had was a small note with some general directions scribbled on it. Right now Aidan was too tired to care, but a few hours ago, when he first realized he could have printed a map from Google maps he had nearly driven off the road in pure rage…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, he followed the directions on the paper, and it actually turned out pretty good. He arrived at an apartment complex that looked exactly like Jackson had described it, and went out of the car. After a few minutes of stretching he grabbed his bag and locked the car. He started walking towards the apartments and quickly realized that there was one huge flaw in the directions he was following; Jackson never told him which house he lived in!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan walked around aimlessly, trying to figure out how to find the right building. The cell phone network was out of service. He had read in the newspapers that when the curfew was announced so many people had started calling their friends and family that the network just collapsed. Ironically, the only reason it hadn’t been able to handle the stress was because 95% of the people in the country used the same operator, and this in turn meant that 95% of the population was now completely sealed off from all communication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked through the glass at yet another building, and then turned away towards the next. But after a second his tired brain had finished processing what he had seen. In one of the post-boxes, a WoW magazine had been sticking out. It was so close to the window that he could even see the receiver – Jackson something. Aidan did not know Jacksons last name, but he thought this was too much a coincidence to be ignored. Besides, it wasn’t like he had any better lead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next problem immediately presented itself, as the front door was locked, and there was no intercom – Aidan cursed his bad luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he was standing there, a small girl came walking towards the door, holding a bag of food. Aidan was so busy practicing his language skills he did not even see her when she was standing right next to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hi!” She said with a smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan nearly jumped out of his skin. As soon as he recovered from the shock he once again started cursing. This time the subject was not his bad luck, but his idiocy. He could not believe he had not noticed the girl until she was right next to him. In a time when there was a military curfew this could be very dangerous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are you all right?” the girl asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, I’m all right.” He said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’re Aidan, right?” She asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan was stunned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m Shae, Jackson’s girlfriend.” She said with a smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Of course!” Aidan exclaimed. “Your timing is impeccable; I had no idea of how to get inside.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, you could have opened the door…” She said and did so, without using a key.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What!?” Aidan exclaimed, and then smacked his face with his palm. He had only tired to pull the door, and apparently you were supposed to push it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s ok. Come inside.” Shae said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They walked up the stairs and Shae rang the doorbell of one of the apartments. In a few seconds Jackson opened the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hi!” he exclaimed when he saw Aidan. “You made it!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, but barely. I almost got lost in the woods.” Aidan said and yawned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, it’s good to see you man.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You to. Hey, could I crash on the couch? I can barely keep my eyes open.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Of course you can. But first you should have something to eat.” Jackson said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No thanks, I really just want to sleep…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nonsense! You’ll wake up in just a couple of hours ravening with hunger. Better to just eat something before.” Jackson interrupted him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes.” Shae agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, okay then.” Aidan gave in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4166993551585440951?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4166993551585440951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4166993551585440951&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4166993551585440951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4166993551585440951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-6.html' title='Chapter 6'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4839736143963276538</id><published>2009-12-05T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T07:00:03.913+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 5</title><content type='html'>“So we can get onto the roof here and climb up this ladder. Here is a small window that leads to the attic over here and from there we can get into the kitchen.” Ridley was pointing at a large paper on the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uh, Ridley, were did you get these blueprints?” Sasha asked with a grim look on her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ehr… I found it?” He said with a huge I-am-so-guilty smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Never mind how he got it; the important thing is that this seems like a good plan.” Asher said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Do you really think so?” Mac asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No. Normally this would be a VERY BAD idea, but under the circumstances it’s the best we can do.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So we’re really going to do this?” Sasha said, looking very disapproving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We need food, Sasha.” Mac said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Alright then, we leave at midnight.” Asher said in a decisive voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this our friends went into their rooms to mentally prepare themselves for this important task, in their own special ways. Asher sat down at his computer and started playing Hitman, particularly a mission that was very similar to what they were planning to do. Although in the game he was there to kill the chef, not steal the food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mac was watching a particularly interesting episode of L-Word. It really had nothing to do with breaking into schools to steal food, but then again; that is not exactly a common theme in popular culture. And besides, watching TV is very relaxing and right then she really needed to relax. (Come on, breaking into a school! During a military curfew!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one really knows what Ridley and Sasha did, but after a few hours they came out of their room to have dinner. They really were running short on food, do it consisted of noodles and noodles. They informed the others that Sasha would be staying at home when the others went out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Look, Sasha, I know you like to stay behind and all – but this is different!” Asher said. “If we run into any patrols we will get arrested and then you’ll be left here all alone, with hardly any food!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We should stick together.” Mac said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha looked at them uncertainly. “Alright, I guess you’re right.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yay!” Ridley exclaimed and hugged her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They finished their food and headed out. The school in question was not too far away. Ridley and Asher were very caught up in the mood. They insisted on sneaking up to every corner and peek around it before waving to the girls that all was clear. Not that they could really see anything. No streetlamps were on and the sky was covered in clouds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they looked at yet another empty street whispered to Ridley:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey, were DID you get that blueprint?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridley glanced at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Come on! You can tell ME, I won’t tell anyone.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Alright, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise to keep it to yourself!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I promise.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kenzie borrowed my computer to look at some blueprints for a school project. They were on a USB stick, and when I recognized this school I copied it to my hard-drive…” Ridley looked very ashamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asher had to bite his hand not to laugh out loud. He turned around and signaled the girls that the coast was clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This is so stupid.” Sasha said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I know.” Mac answered as they walked up to the boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridley pointed at a building across the street. “It’s behind that building.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We should run across in groups of two.” Asher said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why?” Mac asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That’s how they do it in Splinter Cell, Asher said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You asked.” Sasha said as Mac looked at her with a helpless expression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, you go first.” Asher said to Mac and Sasha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why? Isn’t it better if you go first?” She said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But you are slower.” He said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And why exactly does that make it better for us to go first?” Sasha asked with a sharp tone in her voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Isn’t it better if we split up the other way?” Mac asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes I think so.” Ridley said and grabbed Mac’s arm and started running across the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why did you do that?” She asked him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Those two are always bickering. It would have taken us 10 minutes do decide who should go first.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently Sasha and Asher decided that it was stupid to wait for clearance, because as soon as they realized what had happened they followed Mac and Ridley across the street. But boy did they wish they hadn’t!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halfway across the street they heard a noise from the far end of the street, and they freezed. It wasn’t a car. Car’s have engines and headlights. This was something else. The noise was that of a huge crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What are they doing!” Mac said when she and Ridley had crossed the street and looked around. Then she too heard the noise. Looking down the dark street they could see an unformly mass moving quickly towards them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridley ran up to Sasha and Asher and pulled them with him. The crowd was getting really close now, and they could see that they were civilians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they ran towards the school the clouds suddenly cleared and the moonshine lit up the street. (It was a full moon.) As I was saying the moon lit up the street and, unfortunately, our heroes. When the crowd saw them they let out a savage roar and started running towards them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our heroes screamed and started running towards the school as quickly as they could. They were about 50 meters ahead of the crowd when they turned a corner and reached a park. Right then the clouds closed and once again blocked the moonlight and the street became pitch black. They could hear the crowd roaring behind them as they kept running as fast as they could. They ran through a group of trees in the park and almost crashed into a climbing net.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was very dark and hard to tell, but Mac thought that climbing net looked really familiar. She did not have time to tell the others before they reached the other end of the park… and found themselves on the street of their apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What the hell!” Asher exclaimed, looking at Ridley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridley was as surprised as everyone else and almost stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Not now!” Sasha screamed. “Come on! Hurry inside!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They ran up to their apartment but the front door was locked. The crowd was just about to get out of the park behind them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Come on!” Mac said and kept running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She turned left at the end of the street and crossed a parking lot. She ran up to the garbage room with the keys in her hand and opened it. Quickly they all went inside and closed the door just before the crowd came into sight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4839736143963276538?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4839736143963276538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4839736143963276538&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4839736143963276538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4839736143963276538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-5.html' title='Chapter 5'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6258863723626233315</id><published>2009-12-04T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T07:00:00.326+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 4</title><content type='html'>Kenzie and Drew were… ok let’s face it: they were lost. After barely escaping a military roadblock and 3 police cars on their way out of the city they had decided to stay away from the main road. Luckily there was a GPS navigator in their “borrowed”  car. Unfortunately, it had turned out to be less than reliable once you entered the dirt roads in nowhere land. They were fairly sure they were still traveling in the right direction, and that they had gone more than half way. But there was no way of knowing for sure, since they had no idea of where they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had been driving all through the night and now the sun was rising. Out of a slightly misplaced fear they had been driving with the headlights switched off, which is not recommended on a small road in the middle of the forest. Therefore their progress had been slow. Some time after they had left the city the GPS nav had lost the signal. They had kept driving on for an hour after that, without really knowing if they were going in the right direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now they were sitting in their car, staring at the road signs in a T cross. They had been doing so for quite a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So… that village is nowhere near your hometown?” Drew said, pointing at the sign to the left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes.” Kenzie answered with a sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And you are SURE that that village is near your hometown?” Drew pointed at the sign to the right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Positive.” Kenzie answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; “Then we should go to the right.” Drew said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But it makes no sense!” Kenzie exclaimed. “We came from the east. And therefore my hometown should be to the south - to the left.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hmm…” Drew said and pulled down the sunscreen to block the sunlight that was blinding her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They sat in silence for several minutes, trying to decide what they wanted to do. Then all of a sudden Kenzie smacked her face with her palm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What?” Drew asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That’s the sun rising over there.” Kenzie said. “And ‘The sun may rise in the east at least it’s settled in a funny location’”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh! So we have somehow driven around in a circle?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Half circle.” Kenzie corrected her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, so we take a right then.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes we do.” Kenzie said and started to drive again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well that was strange.” Drew commented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenzie was too annoyed to answer, muttering to herself about the stupid GPS nav showing her the wrong way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it was lighter now, they could drive quicker, and one hour later (after a few more misnavigations) they arrived in the outskirts of Kenzie’s hometown. Kenzie decided that it would be safer to drive a long way around the town, which would take them through the woods all the way to Kenzie’s parents’ neighborhood. Drew did not really see the point with all the precautions, since the town has a population of about 2000 and no police station, but she decided to let Kenzie have her way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Early on the Monday morning they parked the car outside the house. They looked around but did not see anyone. This did not really tell them anything about the status of the town, since it was normal to stand outside for 20 minutes before seeing anybody. They quietly exited the car and went to the door. It was, of course, locked but Kenzie had the key. They opened the door and stepped inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What are YOU doing here?!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6258863723626233315?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6258863723626233315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6258863723626233315&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6258863723626233315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6258863723626233315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-4.html' title='Chapter 4'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6043513420906940862</id><published>2009-12-03T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T07:00:04.097+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 3</title><content type='html'>Back at the other apartment Ridley, Mac and the others have gone back into the apartment. They decided to go online and read the news. Unfortunately they discovered that they had no internet connection…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How long do you think it has been down?” Sasha said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know, last time I used it was to check my email – but that was this Monday, I think.” Ridley said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t believe we haven’t used our internet in one week!” Mac exclaimed, looking at Asher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t look at me, I just thought it was the network again, and I didn’t have time to fix it.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And when was this?” Mac looked very annoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wednesday.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone looked at Asher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And Friday night.” He admitted with a guilty look on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, that doesn’t matter now. We need to find out what is going on.” Sasha said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And how are we going to do that?” Mac wondered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We need a newspaper.” Ridley answered. “I’ll go and look in the Metro-box at the bus stop.” He said and started to move towards the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wait! It could be dangerous!” Sasha said and grabbed his arm to stop him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ll go with you.” Asher said, and stood up from the couch he had been sitting in. “It will only take a minute.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys went into the hallway, put on their shoes and quietly opened the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’ll just run there as quickly as possible, grab a paper (if there is any) and run back, ok?” Ridley said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sounds good.” Asher agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They opened the front door and started running across the field towards the bus stop. Both of them suddenly wished they hadn’t, because they felt very exposed. But it did not take long to reach the bus stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Damn! It’s empty.” Ridley whispered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Look! ‘Virus spreads across the country” Asher read from the front-page of the box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, look at this.” Ridley was pointing at an official notice in the booth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sign informed the citizen that the military was enforcing a curfew in order to stop the virus from spreading. Any citizens that were found outside would be taken into holding, and quarantined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my God! That sure doesn’t sound good!” Asher commented, looking around himself nervously. “We’d better get back ASAP.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridley managed to remove the poster from the board without tearing it, and they started running back to the apartment. Halfway across the field their hearts nearly stopped as they suddenly heard a lot of noise. A few seconds later they realized that it was just one of those flocks of jackdaws. They quickly opened the door and ran inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Did you find one?” Mac asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No, but we found this.” Ridley said and showed them the poster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my God! What are we going to do?” Sasha exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What kind of virus is it? The swine-flu?” Mac asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We don’t know.” Asher said. “But we should find out.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But how are we going to do that?” Mac wondered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We need to find a newspaper.” Ridley said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Maybe we can go to the store. We need more food anyway.” Asher said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But what about the curfew? The store should be closed.” Sasha said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It says on the note that we should call this number for provisions.” Mac said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But the cell phone networks are out of service, look!” Sasha said and showed them her cell phone. It was indeed emergency calls only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But this is an emergency, call them.” Asher said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok.” Sasha said and placed the call. All she got was static.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh no! It seems not even that works.” She said and started crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridley hugged her and said “We’ll have to go out in the night, when it’s dark.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, but where to?” Asher asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“To the store, of course.” Ridley said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But don’t you think they’ll be guarding that, against looters and stuff?” Mac asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, right.” Ridley said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But where else can we find food and a newspaper?” Asher asked (rhetorically)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Schools.” Sasha said between sobs. “They have food and newspapers in schools.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes!” Ridley exclaimed. “They do. And I know just how to get into one.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all looked at him with a mixture between surprise and suspicion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ll just climb in from the roof. Me and Boris did that a couple of months ago and they have windows in the roof.” Ridley said and smiled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6043513420906940862?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6043513420906940862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6043513420906940862&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6043513420906940862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6043513420906940862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-3.html' title='Chapter 3'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3500854391519050691</id><published>2009-12-02T07:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T07:00:04.008+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 2</title><content type='html'>We leave our heroes for a while, and move to an apartment in another part of the city. Two friends are sitting at a table looking at a map. In the hallway there are two full backpacks. One is slightly larger than the other (Ok, one is huge and the other one is normal sized.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why does it have to be so damn far away!” Said the shorter of them; Drew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wasn’t that one of the reasons you moved here in the first place?” Kenzie asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well yes, but…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anyway, we’ll just steal a car and drive to my parents’ house.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I thought we were going to MY house…. Wait what!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We are, but my hometown is on the way there, and my dad has weapons.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“… I’ll just leave that for later. You’re going to steal a car!? And then what, jumpstart it?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I found this key last week, just before the curfew started.” Kenzie said and pulled a car key from her pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And you know what car it is for?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, not exactly. But it’s a VW, and from the design of the key I know that it is no more than 7 years old. It’s the same as my parents’ car key.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok, I guess that narrows it down a bit, but still not very good odds.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“There are about 100.000 cars in this city, but only 18.000 of them are VW. I found the key just outside, so the car is most probably parked somewhere within 500 meters, so I have a 10% chance of finding it within 15 minutes.” Kenzie said with an excited smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Right.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So I’ll go out and look, and I should find it within 2,5 hours.” She started to put on her clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“As long as it’s not parked in a garage, of course.” Drew pointed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah. And there are of course at least 2 keys to every car, so the owners might have left already. But I have to at least try.” She said as she closed the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37 minutes and 42 seconds later the door opened again as Kenzie came back. Drew had been timing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Did you find it?” she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes. It’s parked just outside. Let’s get something to eat and then we’ll leave.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shouldn’t we wait until the morning, the sun is about so set.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We’ll have a much better chance of escaping the military if we go by night.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I guess.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They quietly ate some bread and then they grabbed their backpacks and went downstairs. The car turned out to be a black VW golf station wagon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s nearly fully gassed up, so we’ll get all the way to your home.” Kenzie said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ok. That’s good.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenzie started the engine and they were off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3500854391519050691?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3500854391519050691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3500854391519050691&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3500854391519050691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3500854391519050691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-2.html' title='Chapter 2'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-2044704056258092057</id><published>2009-12-01T00:52:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T00:56:00.337+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julkalender'/><title type='text'>Chapter 1</title><content type='html'>In an apartment somewhere in the city a group of friends is emerging from an intense period of role-playing. Over the last couple of weeks they have hardly set foot outside their apartment, and when they did it was late in the evening and only to resupply their fridge with coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though they had been awake the whole night they had not noticed that it was snowing. But as they woke up in the afternoon and peeked out of the blinds their eyes were stabbed by the bright sunlight, reflected in the white snow that covered the world. Suddenly they remembered the joys of fresh air and snowball fighting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Let’s go outside!” Said Mac&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes!” “Awesome idea!” Yelled Ridley and Asher (Luckily for them Mac was standing on a safe distance) and instantly started putting on their shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wait! Aren’t you gonna have breakfast?” Asked Sasha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No, that can wait.” Said Ridley as they ran out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The snow was that perfect state between wet and powdery that made it easy to form snowballs without them getting too heavy. The three of them ran out on the field and started a fierce war. Mac and Ridley teamed up against the towering Asher in order to wrestle him to the ground. After a while Sasha came out, noting with a bit of annoyance that only Mac had been sensible enough to put on a jacket…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’re gonna get a cold.” She said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridley looked at her with an enlightened expression. “Oh! I didn’t think of that.” “I’ll go and fetch one right away” He said and started running towards the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shouldn’t you get one to?” Mac asked Asher&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pulling himself off the ground he said “Uhm, yeah. I guess.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well hurry up then!” Mac exclaimed impatiently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they waited for the boys to get back Mac and Sasha looked around the neighborhood, and immediately got the feeling that something was wrong. It was a Sunday afternoon and beautiful weather, but they could not see a single person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Right, jacket’s on. And I brought gloves and a hat to. What do we do now?” Ridley asked as he and Asher came back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What’s the matter?” He asked as he saw Sasha’s concerned face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know. Something is off.” She replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey, is it just me, or are we alone out here?” Asher asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That’s what we just noticed.” Mac said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridley looked around himself. “It looks like no one but we has walked here since it stopped snowing.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shush!” Sasha hushed them with an intense look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They stood quietly; trying to figure out was she was listening at. And suddenly they all realized that it was way too quiet. They were in the middle of a city but could not hear a single sound except for birds twittering. They ran to the bus stop and looked up and down the long road. There was not a single car in sight. All was quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What the hell is going on?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-2044704056258092057?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/2044704056258092057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=2044704056258092057&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2044704056258092057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2044704056258092057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/12/chapter-1.html' title='Chapter 1'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3062223717852961507</id><published>2009-11-18T16:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T16:15:00.511+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Test</title><content type='html'>Inför julkalendern ska jag prova en sak...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3062223717852961507?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3062223717852961507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3062223717852961507&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3062223717852961507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3062223717852961507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/11/test.html' title='Test'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-7631326043726402513</id><published>2009-11-10T01:23:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T02:29:03.285+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Julkalender</title><content type='html'>Alltså, om ingen annan redan har börjat så tänkte jag ta på mig det i år. Har ju gott om tid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-7631326043726402513?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/7631326043726402513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=7631326043726402513&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7631326043726402513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7631326043726402513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/11/julkalender.html' title='Julkalender'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6331565444689677395</id><published>2009-11-01T18:58:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T19:00:57.557+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Note</title><content type='html'>I don't think I emphasized the church enough, go to my mediafire account and check it out in more detail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also (to my great surprise) I want to recommend some music to Rik. It's a band called Antwerp Gipsy Ska Orkestra. And also anything that could be tagged "balkan beats"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6331565444689677395?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6331565444689677395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6331565444689677395&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6331565444689677395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6331565444689677395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/11/note.html' title='Note'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-8860169672030246453</id><published>2009-10-26T00:01:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T00:38:31.317+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday excursion</title><content type='html'>Today I went with my flatmate Ale(jandra) and some of her friends to Bratislava.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTg6EU2nnI/AAAAAAAAAG4/YGTU52Hs_1g/s1600-h/IMG_1156.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTg6EU2nnI/AAAAAAAAAG4/YGTU52Hs_1g/s400/IMG_1156.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396685541694938738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are finished with your Eurotrip jokes you can continue reading the post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being in Budapest has the advantage of never being more than a few hours away form other countries. We took the 9:30 train and arrived in a sunny Bratislava some 2,5 hours later. The train station is located outside the city center, but since it's such a small city (some 430.000 inhabitants) it was just a 20 min walk to the Old Town center. On the way there we passed by a beautiful little palace that is now the presidential residence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTaaobSiwI/AAAAAAAAAGA/imAu4snh42c/s1600-h/DSC00011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTaaobSiwI/AAAAAAAAAGA/imAu4snh42c/s400/DSC00011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396678404560030466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five minutes later we were strolling around in the very cozy medieval town center. The streets were narrow and all the houses beautiful. Even when zigzagging through the area it did not take us long to reach the Danube, which is much narrower than in Budapest (and the water is clearer).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTb7EgmYQI/AAAAAAAAAGI/YGafTceYlvc/s1600-h/IMG_1062.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTb7EgmYQI/AAAAAAAAAGI/YGafTceYlvc/s400/IMG_1062.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396680061365936386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stepped into a pizzeria and, to my great relief, the pizza tasted like pizza. The ones I've had here in Budapest are horrible! After that we went to look at a Blue Church, which turned out to be the most amazing building I have ever seen, just look at it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTcoQZDplI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/0cywZDOR85A/s1600-h/IMG_1128.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTcoQZDplI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/0cywZDOR85A/s400/IMG_1128.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396680837649638994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After taking some 30 pictures of it we continued our trip towards the castle, once again passing through the old town center. We made a quick visit to a clock/watch museum. It was very small and located in this peculiar building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTdngMBPII/AAAAAAAAAGY/SrsyOzB8oxw/s1600-h/DSC00050.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTdngMBPII/AAAAAAAAAGY/SrsyOzB8oxw/s400/DSC00050.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396681924221680770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The castle itself has been remodeled several times, in very different styles. It was destroyed in 1811 and lay in ruins until they started reconstructing it in 1953. They are still not finished...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTegqw_7CI/AAAAAAAAAGg/R4b8A2E2Sss/s1600-h/IMG_1148.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTegqw_7CI/AAAAAAAAAGg/R4b8A2E2Sss/s400/IMG_1148.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396682906313681954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After strolling around and enjoying the view we headed back to the old town center again, this time for a cup of coffee in one of the many cafes. I had the best chocolate cake I have ever tasted in my entire life. I wish I could beam some to you. It was just that good. Finally we strolled slowly back to the train station and spent a few sleepy hours on the train back to Budapest. We all agree that Bratislava was well worth spending a day in, especially with the nice weather. We also discussed going to Vienna in a few weeks and possibly Transylvania in January. (I have also been invited to Seville in May :D)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTgHEdXcyI/AAAAAAAAAGo/pv9XTTyms_Q/s1600-h/IMG_1141.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTgHEdXcyI/AAAAAAAAAGo/pv9XTTyms_Q/s400/IMG_1141.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396684665557316386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-8860169672030246453?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/8860169672030246453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=8860169672030246453&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8860169672030246453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8860169672030246453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/10/sunday-excursion.html' title='Sunday excursion'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SuTg6EU2nnI/AAAAAAAAAG4/YGTU52Hs_1g/s72-c/IMG_1156.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4310410362935368799</id><published>2009-10-23T22:20:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T22:22:55.248+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Assassin's Creed</title><content type='html'>Lacking the computer hardware to enjoy this game, I will instead cheer for &lt;a href="http://www.gamespot.com/psp/action/assassinscreed/index.html?om_act=convert&amp;om_clk=gssimilargames&amp;tag=similargames;img;1"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; little beauty :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4310410362935368799?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4310410362935368799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4310410362935368799&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4310410362935368799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4310410362935368799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/10/assassins-creed.html' title='Assassin&apos;s Creed'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5383791264444148755</id><published>2009-10-23T11:49:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T11:52:07.955+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Amusing images</title><content type='html'>Picture a group of middle aged Chinese men, in black suits and overcoats walking into a store called "Office Shoes" - which exclusively sells street shoes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 Druids in Bear form, standing in a row, dancing, synchronized...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5383791264444148755?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5383791264444148755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5383791264444148755&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5383791264444148755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5383791264444148755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/10/amusing-images.html' title='Amusing images'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4851429962269584910</id><published>2009-10-21T00:57:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T01:13:11.612+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Movie tip</title><content type='html'>I've been watching Heroes on my PSP, mainly because I wanted to try it out. On the con side the screen is small, but on the pro side it weighs a lot less than my laptop. So far the series has been a bit confusing to watch. One reason might be because on top of all the time-traveling and stuff I accidentally watched the pilot episode instead of the first episode, and it is slightly different. Why someone would include an unaired pilot that reveals plot-points that are not revealed until the end of the season I will never understand &gt;_&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I watched a movie called Surrogates. It stars Bruce Willis and... ah, just check it out on &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0986263/"&gt;IMDb&lt;/a&gt;. The first 15 minutes were very creepy. On the whole the movie was kind of vanilla, with some sliced banana. But no chocolate sauce though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To clarify my analogy: The Dark Knight would be a huge bowl of vanilla ice-cream and chocolate ice-cream with lots of chocolate sauce, cream and meringue. Served with Baileys and Coffee &lt;br /&gt;Vanilla is the lowest acceptable class&lt;br /&gt;Romantic comedies are, if good, strawberry ice-cream&lt;br /&gt;A bad movie would be described as Euro-shopper pear ice-cream *shivers*&lt;br /&gt;A really horrible movie would be liquorish (I know some of you will disagree, but I think you'll understand what I mean)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhm, anyway. See the movie :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4851429962269584910?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4851429962269584910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4851429962269584910&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4851429962269584910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4851429962269584910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/10/movie-tip.html' title='Movie tip'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6467405212818323965</id><published>2009-10-17T18:27:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T18:36:37.816+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Just wanted to say hello</title><content type='html'>Sitting here in my room, drinking some wine and eating Ahlgrens bilar, all by myself. I'm wondering if I have any movie to watch, or if I'm gonna play PoP - Dark Revelations on my PSP... Nobody on-line anywhere, and the germans took off to some other apartment. I'm going out with them later tonight, at nine I think. Anyway, nice picture isn't it: Computer, Candy and Wine. A slightly more "adult" version of the lonely gamer... Now I'm whining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How come Firefox uninstalls my English spell-checking plug-in all the time O.o&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My download status bar isn't working either. This makes me sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, great lunch today! My Spanish flatmate made chicken! It was delicious... And there's lot's of leftovers! Mmm... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really should use the American spell-checker, cause the British one doesn't acknowledge the word "movie", how annoying is that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6467405212818323965?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6467405212818323965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6467405212818323965&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6467405212818323965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6467405212818323965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/10/just-wanted-to-say-hello.html' title='Just wanted to say hello'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3131205159024996986</id><published>2009-10-08T18:23:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T18:25:39.173+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Big tree</title><content type='html'>I had no idea that maple trees could get this big!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/Ss4SddYjP6I/AAAAAAAAAF4/sopdjBXNI2w/s1600-h/DSC00017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/Ss4SddYjP6I/AAAAAAAAAF4/sopdjBXNI2w/s400/DSC00017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390266101322170274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3131205159024996986?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3131205159024996986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3131205159024996986&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3131205159024996986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3131205159024996986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/10/big-tree.html' title='Big tree'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/Ss4SddYjP6I/AAAAAAAAAF4/sopdjBXNI2w/s72-c/DSC00017.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-2219512332256847805</id><published>2009-09-25T22:58:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T23:03:21.040+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A modest request</title><content type='html'>It would be kind of nice if you guys actually used Skype so that I could talk to you. (I'm not talking to you, D, you have made your opinion very clear, and anyway I talk more to you than anyone else. you're not exactly hard to reach) And when I say talk I don't necessary mean with a headset, it is actually possible to chat to. Since none of you is ever online I feel very isolated. This goes when I'm in Sweden to. (obviously I am not referring to Alex or Jocke either) So please, if you are sitting at home, having nothing better to do, just log on to Skype and maybe I'm there to and we can talk a bit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-2219512332256847805?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/2219512332256847805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=2219512332256847805&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2219512332256847805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2219512332256847805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/09/modest-request.html' title='A modest request'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4911905919091234172</id><published>2009-09-20T15:37:00.013+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T16:13:50.664+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Visegrád</title><content type='html'>Yesterday we made a trip to Videgrád, a small town a couple of hours north of Budapest. This is the historical site of the original royal castle, and later a royal palace. It took us 3 hours to get there. Mainly because Meike told us to get off the bus 2 stops too early. So we ended up spending some time sunbathing in this nice little village:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYxHpeQV5I/AAAAAAAAAEo/Vv8Jw_tzWns/s1600-h/DSCN1179.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYxHpeQV5I/AAAAAAAAAEo/Vv8Jw_tzWns/s400/DSCN1179.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383544412029605778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We watched the boats on the river and the weather was nice, so it wasn't too bad. After some 50 minutes we caught the next bus and finally arrived in Viségrad and immediately started the climb up to the castle. The town is really nice, but unfortunately this is the only picture I have:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYx-GhvVDI/AAAAAAAAAEw/BYzRddCIkb0/s1600-h/DSCN1180.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYx-GhvVDI/AAAAAAAAAEw/BYzRddCIkb0/s400/DSCN1180.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383545347541783602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first part of the path had these stone reliefs along it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYybVsv4lI/AAAAAAAAAE4/3WrpUK9Jn8E/s1600-h/DSCN1181.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYybVsv4lI/AAAAAAAAAE4/3WrpUK9Jn8E/s400/DSCN1181.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383545849830695506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The path is very steep, and was quite hot, so it wasn't all to inspiring to have the last day of Jesus' life paraded in front of you. Eventually we came to the top of what turned out to be a rather small hill (even though it felt like climbing a mountain), and there stood a single wooden cross:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYzOlPaPUI/AAAAAAAAAFA/RaVNdcQNFX0/s1600-h/DSCN1183.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYzOlPaPUI/AAAAAAAAAFA/RaVNdcQNFX0/s400/DSCN1183.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383546730175937858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then another stone:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYze6hBDQI/AAAAAAAAAFI/H1OOVRDPeGg/s1600-h/DSCN1184.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYze6hBDQI/AAAAAAAAAFI/H1OOVRDPeGg/s400/DSCN1184.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383547010764836098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally a small shrine, presumably dedicated to the resurrection of Christ:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYzxwwiymI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/fznhhaIlPlw/s1600-h/DSCN1185.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYzxwwiymI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/fznhhaIlPlw/s400/DSCN1185.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383547334563121762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After another 40 minutes of walking up the mountain we finally arrived, drenched in sweat, at the castle and a fantastic view. This picture does not even nearly describe how beautiful this place is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrY0qb7n43I/AAAAAAAAAFY/fVZkzbKuA6Y/s1600-h/DSCN1190.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrY0qb7n43I/AAAAAAAAAFY/fVZkzbKuA6Y/s400/DSCN1190.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383548308224992114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the castle, that lay mostly in ruins, there is an exhibition about the medieval Hungary. I can upload the pictures to my MediaFire account if you want. Walking down the mountain did not produce as much sweat, but a fair amount of adrenalin. Imagine walking down a steep path covered in acorns! On the way down we passed a mostly reconstructed tower:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrY1njuH7LI/AAAAAAAAAFg/DxHxIsTzM6M/s1600-h/DSCN1206.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrY1njuH7LI/AAAAAAAAAFg/DxHxIsTzM6M/s400/DSCN1206.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383549358287875250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the left you can see Scott, Jeremy, Mareike and Lena. Meike is standing behind me. Unfortunately we did not have time to eat at the restaurants by the river, because we had to catch the last ferry to Budapest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrY3AgmroHI/AAAAAAAAAFo/p_kL19J7_mA/s1600-h/DSC00016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrY3AgmroHI/AAAAAAAAAFo/p_kL19J7_mA/s400/DSC00016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383550886459711602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally we arrived in Buda, opposite the Parliament at 7 pm, very tired and very hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrY3V9x3YsI/AAAAAAAAAFw/RB9l8Dv7I08/s1600-h/DSC00018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrY3V9x3YsI/AAAAAAAAAFw/RB9l8Dv7I08/s400/DSC00018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383551255068500674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the whole a very successful trip, I'd say. The price for the whole trip, including the boat trip and entrance fee at the castle (and double bustickets, due to the misnavigation): 90 kr... We will go back some other day though, because we did not to get to see the palace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4911905919091234172?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4911905919091234172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4911905919091234172&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4911905919091234172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4911905919091234172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/09/visegrad.html' title='Visegrád'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SrYxHpeQV5I/AAAAAAAAAEo/Vv8Jw_tzWns/s72-c/DSCN1179.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-7826787675863337164</id><published>2009-09-11T20:42:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T20:46:57.237+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Action Movies - Or how to get yourself a Darwin Award</title><content type='html'>Shoot Em Up must have set a new record for Steel Babies who should have died in the first scene. I think Con Air set a record for having people who should be dead and possibly burned to cinders survive a plane crash without even getting a concussion. Perhaps that is the goal of every action movie?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-7826787675863337164?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/7826787675863337164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=7826787675863337164&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7826787675863337164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7826787675863337164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/09/action-movies-or-how-to-get-yourself.html' title='Action Movies - Or how to get yourself a Darwin Award'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5039120134697539108</id><published>2009-09-09T21:09:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T21:14:45.622+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Nubbesallad och Kanelbullar</title><content type='html'>Today I made some Swedish food for the roomies. I made Nubbesallad with Knäckebröd, and I also (upon request from Mareike) baked some Kanelbullar. I earned quite some cred when I did the fancy version of the buns, you know when you sort of braid them and then swirl them around (Sara, you know what I mean, right?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Germans liked the sallad, but not too surprisingly the Spanish girl, Alejandra, didn't like the matjesill... Oh, and the other German is called Kerstin. There is also a Kirstin, but not in our apartment. I should have introduced myselft as Kat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously they loved the buns.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5039120134697539108?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5039120134697539108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5039120134697539108&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5039120134697539108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5039120134697539108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/09/nubbesallad-och-kanelbullar.html' title='Nubbesallad och Kanelbullar'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-1240096962412674838</id><published>2009-09-09T14:54:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T14:57:55.441+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Horror</title><content type='html'>We just got our parabola antenna installed. Most channels are in Hungarian, the one that are not are mostly in German. But we do have a few in English, like CNN, VH1 and BBC. But now to the point; when we zapped through the children's channels we found one called "bebe TV"... It's the worst thing I have ever seen. Their programs are made up of poorly animated animals and shapes in bright colours, doing completely pointless things - and they don't speak! They just move around the screen with some horrible chimy music in the background *shivers*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-1240096962412674838?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/1240096962412674838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=1240096962412674838&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1240096962412674838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/1240096962412674838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/09/horror.html' title='The Horror'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4234737010305427946</id><published>2009-09-07T19:44:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T19:59:51.578+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Great news!</title><content type='html'>(No, it is not the Dacia Sandero) Hungarians might be more sensible than I have thought, because today I found out that in Magyar (pronounced Måhdjåhr) the third person personal pronoun is gender neutral! He/She is called... I can't write it properly but it is an o with a double ´ above it, and is pronounced "ö". Ö, however, is pronounced "öh" (a short vowel). In Hungarian all vowels have only one correct pronunciation. Long vowels are written with an apostrophe above it. a á, e é, i í, o ó and so on. Sadly, they do not have the vowel y. Whenever there is a y in a word it is a part of a consonant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The consonants are completely counter-intuitive. "C" is pronounced "ts", "S" is pronounced "sh" and both "SZ" and "ZS" are pronounced "s"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4234737010305427946?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4234737010305427946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4234737010305427946&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4234737010305427946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4234737010305427946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/09/great-news.html' title='Great news!'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-8374809537763381047</id><published>2009-09-04T18:13:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T18:36:55.735+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Spanish evening</title><content type='html'>This morning I had to get up at 7:40 in order to have time to go to the university and get my temporary student ID. Then I went to buy the Budapest-Bérlet (the Hungarian equivalent of SL) for a mere 3700 HUF (let's see, 3700/25=148kr) for one month! And with this golden piece of paper (no, it's actually green - but there is some gold on it) I can travel anywhere I want in Budapest by Metro, Tram or Bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went to change money for my first rental fee which I will be paying in euro. Next one I'll make a bank transfer. Then I went home, just in time to meet our landlord and Alejandra, the Spanish girl. So now all my flatmates are here. Then I went to buy a refill for my Hungarian sim card, and then it was time for an Erasmus event. We were supposed to visit 8 different places in Budapest, but it took forever and then the weather got worse, so in the end I only saw two of them. The third (and last for the day) was by the Citadell, on the top af a "hill" that I had already seen. So I went home. Then it started, well... almost raining - so they cancelled the barbeque that was supposed to be in a famous park on Margret sziget (sziget means island). But I'm not really all that devastated, because Alejandra's mother is cooking Spanish food for us. Tomorrow I will go to IKEA (yeah, I know) and maybe visit one of the spots that I missed today...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-8374809537763381047?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/8374809537763381047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=8374809537763381047&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8374809537763381047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8374809537763381047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/09/spanish-evening.html' title='Spanish evening'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-8839600428082365782</id><published>2009-09-01T01:07:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T01:19:57.831+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Hungary</title><content type='html'>I felt mainly two things when I got off the plane in Budapest; I am hungry, and I am warm. Leaving a chilly 15 degree Sweden at 11 am it was quite a pleasant experience to walk into a sunlit 25 degree Hungary. But since I got up at 4:40 I was also &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; hungry! After putting my bags in my room (the apartment is amazing!) I went to the university to register. Only I forgot to bring a map of the campus, and since all the signs were in hungarian (or Magyar, as they call it)I completely failed at finding the registration office. I'll have another go tomorrow. Now on to more interesting stuff; Magyar is a language that defies all logic. My street adress is Lonyay utca 13. It is pronounced "Loniai utsza"... In &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;every&lt;/span&gt; language I've ever studied or know a bit of a C before an A is pronounced K, but not in magyar. (We'll see if I make an attempt at learning some) ...I was going to go on about something else but suddenly all 20 hours since I got up hit me. I'm off to bed. See ya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-8839600428082365782?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/8839600428082365782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=8839600428082365782&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8839600428082365782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/8839600428082365782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/09/hungary.html' title='Hungary'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-329106500555570970</id><published>2009-08-07T13:54:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T13:56:40.739+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>King Coolman</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;De strigis vero quae non sunt, nulla amplius quaestio fiat.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(As for witches, they really do not exist; no further investigations or trials are to be held)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- King Coloman of Hungary, 1095-1116&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-329106500555570970?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/329106500555570970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=329106500555570970&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/329106500555570970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/329106500555570970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/08/king-coolman.html' title='King Coolman'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5515957108487103507</id><published>2009-08-07T13:32:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T13:39:35.619+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Citation Needed</title><content type='html'>I just found an artivcle on swedish wikipedia about execution by firing squad. It states that in China this is a common execution method for economical reason. Apart from the fact that bullets are cheap, it also allows for harvesting the organs and selling them to rich people, both in China and the west... A bit &lt;em&gt;too&lt;/em&gt; pragmatic, perhaps?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5515957108487103507?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5515957108487103507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5515957108487103507&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5515957108487103507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5515957108487103507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/08/citation-needed.html' title='Citation Needed'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-9000558282317616245</id><published>2009-08-04T10:04:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T10:05:12.506+02:00</updated><title type='text'>O.O</title><content type='html'>I think I have found &lt;a href="http://portableapps.com/"&gt;heaven&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-9000558282317616245?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/9000558282317616245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=9000558282317616245&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/9000558282317616245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/9000558282317616245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-think-i-have-found-heaven.html' title='O.O'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-580472699709332434</id><published>2009-07-21T16:22:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T16:24:49.252+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>xkcd</title><content type='html'>Remember my old diagram of &lt;a href="http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2007/12/this-and-that.html"&gt;intra friend-circle relationships&lt;/a&gt;? Well, I think &lt;a href="http://xkcd.com/403/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; is proof enough that xkcd is a veeery good match to my humour!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-580472699709332434?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/580472699709332434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=580472699709332434&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/580472699709332434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/580472699709332434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/07/xkcd.html' title='xkcd'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4003480939666641322</id><published>2009-07-20T10:43:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T11:15:53.419+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>On perpetual motion</title><content type='html'>Some of you might have noticed my facination for symetrical shapes. Give me a ruler and a pen and I will be occupied for hours. The &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epitrochoid"&gt;epitrochoid&lt;/a&gt; on the left is pretty much my definition of beauty. It is perfectly symmetrical and round. I do not understand the mathematics behind epitrochiods and hypotrochoids. Maybe one day I will? Another interesting fact about epitrochoids is that they are perpetual - once you have completed the cycle it will repeat itself indefinently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name of this blog used to be "Confusion, mostly" and that still holds true. But that doesn't really include all aspects of my life, or rather - it is too much of a simplification. As I see it life itself is a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perpetual_motion"&gt;perpetual motion&lt;/a&gt;, as well as a series of smaller repeating cycles. Perhaps "Perpetuations" is a poorly phrased version of this - in fact it is even a bad pun. I think this is an accurate visualisation of how I think of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SmQy5-vX4TI/AAAAAAAAAEY/xLeCZbGlN_s/s1600-h/untitled.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 389px; height: 389px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SmQy5-vX4TI/AAAAAAAAAEY/xLeCZbGlN_s/s400/untitled.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360465428153360690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confusing, yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One last note, physically there is no such thing as a machine that always produces more energy than is put into it. But disregarding the quantifiable - humans do this all the time, don't we? I for one seem to always produce more emotion and thought than I use :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4003480939666641322?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4003480939666641322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4003480939666641322&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4003480939666641322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4003480939666641322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/07/on-perpetual-motion.html' title='On perpetual motion'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/SmQy5-vX4TI/AAAAAAAAAEY/xLeCZbGlN_s/s72-c/untitled.PNG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-4263842417379124471</id><published>2009-07-14T10:25:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T10:33:34.029+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Re: Unorthodox and politically incorrect dating ad.</title><content type='html'>In the spirit of the Iceye's &lt;a href="http://theiceye.blogspot.com/2009/07/unorthodox-and-politically-incorrect.html"&gt;dating ad&lt;/a&gt; and my current occupation;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Installation and Maintenance guide for the Kristin-88&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1 Technical data&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sex - Female&lt;br /&gt;Age - 21&lt;br /&gt;Length (cm) - 173&lt;br /&gt;Weight (kg) - 78&lt;br /&gt;Hair color - Dark brown&lt;br /&gt;Eye colour - Light blue with strands of yellow &lt;br /&gt;Language support - Swedish and English (upgradable)&lt;br /&gt;Function packages - Everyday, Survival, Social (to some extent) and Civil Engineering&lt;br /&gt;Application - Intended for use with the Male 1980-1990 series (exceptions exist, contact support for more info)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2 Installation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.1 Recommended dating sequence&lt;br /&gt;1. Check compatibility. See chapter 2.2&lt;br /&gt;2. Initiate contact. See chapter 2.3&lt;br /&gt;3. Evaluate network optimisation. See chapter 2.4&lt;br /&gt;4. Install docking station. See chapter 2.5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.2 Compatibility&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Kristin-880406 is very versatile, with programmes for athletics, academics, science, applied science, music, video games and role playing among others. She has a somewhat underdeveloped social interface, but not so much that it impairs everyday activities. The operating system is Linux based and supports many add-ons. The core process is based on ambition and strives for constant development. It should be noted however, that the cultural context in which the programming was done has influenced the programme-code. Due to years of tweaking this code cannot easily be modified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.3 Initiating contact&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no definite way to initiate contact. It is recommended, however, that the context is casual and the method direct. Due to the aforementioned underdeveloped social interface some of the more subtle passes and innuendo might not be registered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Caution: This lack of registration might come off as a lack of interest or disapproval. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In order to fully establish an interface it is important that you activate your account, preferably as soon as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.4 Network optimisation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Kristin-880406 is designed for a medium sized network with a mostly permanent client list. She is fully capable of interacting with guests and new clients, but will do so on a &lt;em&gt;limited access&lt;/em&gt; basis. Not until the compatibility evaluation is completed will &lt;em&gt;full access &lt;/em&gt;be granted. There are no administrator privileges. The Kristin-88 is fully installed on several networks, the most prominent being the &lt;em&gt;Family&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;Friends&lt;/em&gt; WLAN's. The &lt;em&gt;Family&lt;/em&gt;-network operate stictly on static IP numbers that might be difficult to obtain. The &lt;em&gt;Friends&lt;/em&gt;-network utilises both static and dynamic IP addresses. In order to obtain a static IP the client has to be fully compatible with the other static clients. DHCP access is granted to anyone with an established connection with one of the static clients.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.5 Docking station&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the previous steps of the dating sequence have been completed it might be convenient to install a docking station for the Kristin-88, so that she has her own designated space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3 Maintenance&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Kristin-88 is still in &lt;em&gt;Beta&lt;/em&gt; and there is currently no information on maintenance and routine testing. We recommend that you use Common sense in order to determine what she might need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-4263842417379124471?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/4263842417379124471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=4263842417379124471&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4263842417379124471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/4263842417379124471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/07/re-unorthodox-and-politically-incorrect.html' title='Re: Unorthodox and politically incorrect dating ad.'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-7760920283654029277</id><published>2009-07-13T11:20:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T11:22:03.028+02:00</updated><title type='text'>ANNOUNCEMENT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/Slr8r9Brv3I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/yUsluQmxBsQ/s1600-h/hagglund.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/Slr8r9Brv3I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/yUsluQmxBsQ/s400/hagglund.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357872538756824946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-7760920283654029277?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/7760920283654029277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=7760920283654029277&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7760920283654029277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/7760920283654029277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/07/announcement.html' title='ANNOUNCEMENT'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/Slr8r9Brv3I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/yUsluQmxBsQ/s72-c/hagglund.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-5177093606593553278</id><published>2009-07-02T15:09:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T15:15:39.720+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Oh My Fucking God!</title><content type='html'>I'm trying to find EEC directives that are applicable for one of the products here at work, so I did a search in Eur-Lex for "CE märkning". I got 9 hits. The first one is a court ruling, the second is a written question about wehter CE marking is a trade barrier. The third one is a written question about CE marking for torture equipment...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-5177093606593553278?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/5177093606593553278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=5177093606593553278&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5177093606593553278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/5177093606593553278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/07/oh-my-fucking-god.html' title='Oh My Fucking God!'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-2625869320796593310</id><published>2009-06-15T00:41:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T00:46:04.828+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>Vi veri veniversum vivus vici</title><content type='html'>"By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe"&lt;br /&gt;I think it's pretty amazing that you can get that much out of so few syllables. Isn't grammar awesome!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-2625869320796593310?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/2625869320796593310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=2625869320796593310&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2625869320796593310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/2625869320796593310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/06/vi-veri-veniversum-vivus-vici.html' title='Vi veri veniversum vivus vici'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6171904725816917281</id><published>2009-06-06T15:05:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T15:06:44.418+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/Sippz3eiW5I/AAAAAAAAAEI/BhRk_cXfU9c/s1600-h/JOF34p23.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/Sippz3eiW5I/AAAAAAAAAEI/BhRk_cXfU9c/s400/JOF34p23.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344200247614790546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6171904725816917281?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6171904725816917281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6171904725816917281&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6171904725816917281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6171904725816917281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/06/lol.html' title=''/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cT6kiB-n46g/Sippz3eiW5I/AAAAAAAAAEI/BhRk_cXfU9c/s72-c/JOF34p23.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-3682830629042641342</id><published>2009-05-25T17:48:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T17:51:31.262+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was bored and played the game of clicking at links in wikipedia articles until I landed at something interesting. After a detour through Hong Kong and grammar I found &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_position#Squatting"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;. It's pretty lame, but still quite amusing. At least I think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-3682830629042641342?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/3682830629042641342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=3682830629042641342&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3682830629042641342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/3682830629042641342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-was-bored-and-played-game-of-clicking.html' title=''/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-218754173233926232</id><published>2009-05-14T18:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T18:05:45.142+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Up for grabs</title><content type='html'>Anyone want Batman Begins DVD?&lt;br /&gt;(I have 2)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-218754173233926232?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/218754173233926232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=218754173233926232&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/218754173233926232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/218754173233926232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/05/up-for-grabs.html' title='Up for grabs'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-6989316399252508823</id><published>2009-05-04T17:55:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T18:03:45.203+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Egenmäktigt förfarande...</title><content type='html'>...är en brottslig handling. Vi har alla gjort det nån gång. Den där boken som man lånade utan att registrera det men faktiskt lämnade tillbaks till skolbibliteket, eller ett practical joke där man låser fast någons cykel (eller, om den var olåst, tar sig en tur på den). Och så är det förstås alla otaliga gånger då man lånade sin brors leksaker utan att fråga. Egenmäktigt förfarande. I just love the way it sounds :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-6989316399252508823?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/6989316399252508823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=6989316399252508823&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6989316399252508823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/6989316399252508823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/05/egenmaktigt-forfarande.html' title='Egenmäktigt förfarande...'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997860913128854615.post-297027700614978609</id><published>2009-04-18T01:16:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T01:22:04.374+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random Rants'/><title type='text'>3 reasons to change from 1.0 to 1.0c</title><content type='html'>Age of Empires II, that is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) You will not be banned from Garena&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Farms can be queued to 40&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Computer opponents no longer always switch to attack the opponent with the highest score. That is, they initially attack that opponent, but then they keep attacking for some time afterwards, even if that opponent’s score drops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, some interesting bug fixes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•Male hunters no longer get +1 LOS.&lt;br /&gt;•Male Mayan farmers are now as good as females.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6997860913128854615-297027700614978609?l=nonicknameforme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/feeds/297027700614978609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6997860913128854615&amp;postID=297027700614978609&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/297027700614978609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6997860913128854615/posts/default/297027700614978609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nonicknameforme.blogspot.com/2009/04/3-reasons-to-change-from-10-to-10c.html' title='3 reasons to change from 1.0 to 1.0c'/><author><name>Kristin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05897976791431176573</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
