My kind of happy endings

I like massage. Just not the kind when it feels like the person doing it hates you. Like Thai massage. I always feel like I have to apologize for something I haven’t done about 10-15 minutes in to the session. How can this little person (normally compared to me) turn in to Thailand’s version of the Hulk slash Spiderman. I obviously don’t see exactly what she is doing but I lay there and imagine Spider-Man sitting in his (hers) famous pose with the knees bent on my back, looking around with crazy eyes for the next muscle or bendable joint to attack. If she say “please take a deep breath and relax” you know she will do something to you which will make a noise that sounds like she just broke your back. 

Nowadays I go with the safe option of swedish massage. Not only because I am well traveled and seem to have one massage story for every country I’ve been to. Yes, the ones without a happy ending. Below are two of my most interesting massage experiences that I wanted to share with you.

1. Spiritual bullshit in Montpellier, France
Ok, maybe I didn’t read the spa menu correctly and I must have pointed out the wrong option, as the receptionist kindly stated when I complained afterwards. It started out ok but when the massage therapist (a man) asked me to turn around and took the towel off me, I started to think that something was up. Occasionally I have patience. Everyone that knows me will disagree but when travelling you need an open mind. So I just laid there with my boobs in the air wondering now what. The man suddenly started singing “ooooooohhhhhhmmmmmm” like a proper yoga instructor and made rings with his fingers around my boobs. I started laughing but was directly given a “sssssshhh” by the man who had closed his eyes and went on with ohm-song. Fuck this, I thought and went out. I went to the reception and asked what I just experienced and she gladly said “spiritual massage for your soul”. No, my soul was not having it but I’m sure his was.

2. Boob grabbing in Amsterdam
Do you notice a pattern? Its all about the boobs it seems. But this time it was at a Chinese hair dresser in the city centre of Amsterdam. I guess the exotic sign of “cheap head and back massage” appealed to me. My boyfriend at the time had a hair cut and I thought I would try out out the massage to make time pass. I was sitting on a chair facing the hair salon with a woman behind me. She started out with a normal shoulder massage. She continued massaging the muscles just above the breasts. This is usually very nice as we forget to stretch those muscles. But hey ho, she went further down with her hands and suddenly and rather hard, she grabbed my boobs and squeezed. I was too shocked to react and just opened my eyes and starred right out in to the people sitting in the room getting their hair cut. Did anyone see? It was over quickly again and I was just sitting still like a tensed stick wondering what just happened. Just in time for her to stick her fingers in to my ears and whirl around. Do we have a lot of spots in our ears that needs massage? I’m still wondering. I’m also happy that I wasn’t a new mum at the time and breastfeeding. That boob grab would have caused a smaller milk explosion.

Source: http://www.retronaut.co
Yesterday one of my friends told me that she had a full body scrub in Dubai. After a while the woman scrubbing her told her that she was getting too wet in her clothes and just took removed them like no big deal. She continued to scrub her while she was mostly naked, only wearing small panties. 
Gotta love travelling!

I give you money

My name starts with an A and I can buy:

 1. Anything

2. Anaconda (don’t want it)

3. Alefant (always wanted one with an E but this one will do)

4. Arkansas (I don’t know anything about this state. All you Americans reading my blog, is this a good deal? Maybe Alaska is better?)

5. Alphabet (I’ll just buy all the other letters and BOOM the world is mine. Gosh I would be a great dictator)

Why isn’t dictator spelled DICKtator? Are there any female ones? Or any that are not dicks?

So what would you buy with the first letter of your name? 

Tasty news

We have been going through the news the last few days. Me and my genius baby. Side by side we read the whole shit. 

We gave up an ate the news instead. Because if there is something my child has taught me, it’s that whatever you feel about something, just eat it and then decide if it’s good or bad. 

Actually no. She didn’t teach me that. Food poisining thought me that. 

Strap it on and get it on

TRX is a work out. Im just clarifying that if you, like me, thought it was some kind of dinosaur. And when my trainer asked my group “have any of you done a TRX session before” I thought to ask if that was a trick question because no, I don’t feel like that about animals and I’m pretty sure that’s illegal even though they are all dead since a million years.

TRX is supposedly for the cool kids on the gym block. You put straps on to something like a wall or a door and then work with your own body weight. You pretty much pull yourself up in different directions and hope that you keep balance and that the strap holds you up and don’t let go. Because if they let go, they will break your face. 

If you have a mean Spanish teacher that tells you that you are a fuss and need to put straps on your freaking feet (!) you might end up falling graciously to the ground and yell “I wanna go home!”

I didn’t fall as I have awesome balance. Gracious like a tanker truck. My trainer told me “that in e Spanish e , I say you are strong as vinegar”. Apparently a good thing. Apparently also a joke. I don’t have any muscles. 

Shit no one tells you

I haven’t read any books lately as there is not much time for that luxury. Well, if you don’t count those squeezy children’s books about snails and bananas. If I do read something it means mostly going online and googling things like “why cant I lick my elbow”, “is it dangerous to wash makeup off with acetone instead of makeup remover. Asking for a friend.” 

I do have some books that I find interesting and wish I had time to read. The first one: How not to hate your husband after kids. Found this in a book store the other day and it appealed to me considering how many times I thought that exact sentence in my head. I might have expressed it too and that’s why my husband don’t mind to do the night feedings anymore. Win/win. I’m happy and well rested = he gets to live. 


Next book: The shit no one tells you. I actually read this book when I was pregnant and I had time on my hands. This is when I learned that my life would officially be over once the baby had been squeezed out. I also learnt that I would talk about poop more than anything and never sleep again. That was a nice and positive book that made me cross my legs. (Yeah I know, too late right… )


Calm the fuck down – parenting technique. I would love to read this oneI’m pretty calm as a parent but I might keep a few extra copies in my bag to hand out occasionally. I’m sure I would make many new friends on the playgrounds.

Don’t you worry, don’t you worry child. 

…..said no new parent ever because once they do, they don’t. 

Getting out of the door with your little one can sometimes feel like you have packed for a travel around the world. Twice. Sometimes I feel like packing our house, buy a caravan and forever stay in it. I’ll just bring my entire home wherever we go. 

The other day we went to one of the shopping malls. Yes, one of those again. The ones we have been to 240 times this summer as to been a kazillion degrees and we chose to live in the desert. I unpacked baby, stroller, life etc out of the car. While walking away from the car I felt complete and cool. Like I was born to be a relaxed mum. I had everything under control. I grabbed the car keys from my pocket and in an insanely cool way, I reached the hand over my shoulder and locked the car without even turning around! My 7 months old baby even looked at me and said “cool as ice, mum”. Well, I’m sure she would have if she could speak. 

After shopping we walked our little walk through the parking garage to search for the car. And we found it straight away, which never happens, but the reason why was because it was easy to spot.


This cool mum left the trunk open! Nothing to worry about. I bet it happens all the time… (anyone..?) 

New parents poetry

There is currently a lot of poo in our house. Poo-talk, poo diaper, real poo etc. I guess everything that comes with a new, little human being. There is also a lot of love and poetry in our house. Inspired by poo. I thought I’ll just share some with you.

Cotton candy makes me happy.

I don’t want to change your nappy.

Cotton candy in my hair.

You don’t have anything clean to wear.

Cotton candy – please don’t make us part. 

That was not just a fart.

And this one is written by my husband who is currently in charge of night time poop explosions:

 My little girly twirly doo,

She likes to do a poo,

In the night at half past two.


And that’s me and an actual cotton candy stick. Out and about and left my husband at home with our cute girl and all poo. I’m a good mum.