| | Blogs by Sachiko, February 22, 2012, at 3:58 pm Jag håller på att sakta men säkert drivas till vansinne. Med jämna mellanrum har jag gått ut i vardagsrummet och hoppat jämfota och åkallat helvetets alla demoner att komma och ta mina lärare och gör nåt riktigt läskigt med dem.
Två dagars letade efter hur i helsefyr man får tag på twitters xml-filer för att skapa en egen feed gör sånt med folk.
Jag har varit inne och lusläst över femtio kodningssidor som alla bara visar gammalt skit som ingen har användning för längre. So yes, bloggen får stå åt sidan ett tag till och om jag inte kommer tillbaka så sitter jag garanterat på hispan och dreglar. Peace!
Sachiko Blogs by Kelb, February 21, 2012, at 11:40 pm ..på lokalblaskans vinnande Semla i deras stora test. Jag tog en tugga när jag plötsligt kom på att jag borde ta ett kort på skapelsen så jag tog försiktigt ut den ur munnen och försökte lappa tillbaka den men det blev inte alls vackert så jag skippade det och stoppade tillbaka biten i munnen. Det smakade typ som att sätta tänderna i slisksockrad halvblöt kartongpapp blää! Möjligen är mina smaklökar lätt anfrätta eftersom jag de fyra senaste dagarna kört en egenkonstruerad diet bestående av kallt grönt Te, morötter samt djungelvrål. Min kropp reagerar mysko på den dieten och jag funderar på att byta ut teet mot vatten eller kanske strunta helt i morötterna.  Jag behövde dagsljus för fotot på så jag gick ut i den skottade gången med semlan i handen, jag fick se något som blänkte i en driva bredvid en snötäckt buske. Likt en arkeolog pillade jag försiktigt bort snön och fann ett kakfat perfekt! Jag måste ha tappat fatet när jag rensade vinden och släpade ut och slängde en massa gammalt glas och porslin.
Medan jag grävde i snön kom jag på vad som saknades i den tråkiga semlan. Därav de tre turkiska pepparkaramellerna på fatet. Jag mortlade senare karamellerna och slaktade en bläckpenna och fyllde det tomma pennröret med turkpulvret och med hjälp av tryckluft lyckades jag peppra insidan av semlan. Hur den smakade kan vi ta en annan gång har inte tid nu, jag ska tvätta hallgolvet, toalettgolvet och handfatet samt kläderna.  Blogs by Kelb Blogged of Denada, February 21, 2012, at 6:26 pm  Fetto-dag idag. Fettis – Fetto … Whatever.
Dagen började rätt kasst. Och det var bra. På sätt och vis. För när det går dåligt för mig kan jag behöva tröst… och vad kunde vara mer lämpligt än… Åååh. Jag blir så trött på mig själv. Första semlan kom vid fikarasten kl 9.30. En jobbarkompis till mig som har den fantastiska egenskapen att hon unnar sig allting hon vill ha utan dåligt samvete. Hon kom till jobbet med ett två-pack. Och den ena fick jag. Mmm. Fantastiskt! Funderade allvarligt på att bli religiös och gå med i svenska kyrkan igen. MYCKET oklart varför jag gick ut en gång i tiden. Särskligt fördunklades det minnet nu när Gud nu skickade mig så fin present via osannolik budbärare… Andra semlan låg och lurade försåtligt i fikarummet vid eftermiddagsfikat. Mm. Chefen hade köpt till ALLA. Grejen med att om man blir bjuden och inte tar, så kan den som bjuder tycka att man är otacksam och bli ledsen. Och då bjuder den inte en gång till. Det vore för sorgligt. Blev inte lika betagen av semla nr två. Var inte längre religiös. Men kan tänka mig ett besök på frälsis framåt jul för att skänka en slant och “hålla grytan kokande”. Tredje semlan hade jag själv med hem. Man vill ju lära barn att värna om traditioner och högtider. As. Känner mig inte så generös med att bevara kristendomen längre. Ska söka till hedna-missionen. På ruskigt fult humör då blodsockret åker jojo. Passerade den där viktgränsen idag som inte skulle passeras. Yes. Redan innan semlorna. Grämelse och självförakt. Ser själv ut som semla. Len och vit på mitten. Och lös i konturen. Men å andra sidan. Snart är det sommar. Och visst är det bra fult med pösig baddräkt? Tjing - Denada Blogs by Sachiko, February 21, 2012, at 4:06 pm Igår kväll låg jag och pluggade i sängen och fick för mig att jag ska dra mig upp i sittande ställning. Jag tar då tag med vänsterhanden i en list och lyfter upp överkoppen. Which, eftersom jag hade ett linne på mig, får mig att notera att min vänstra överarm minskat betydligt i storlek. Faktum är att den minskat så mycket att den såg nästan mager ut när jag spände den. And, i jämförelse med hur den såg ut förut alltså.
Men det var inte det som var problemet, utan det faktum att jag inte har några muskler alls där! Armen såg skitmesig och vek ut.
Jag var naturligtvis tvungen att testa med högerarmen för att se skillnaden. Och det var skillnad.
Även om jag inte är lika stark som när jag jobbade heltid som smed så var det ändå brutalt stor skillnad på högerarmen och vänsterarmen. Det så såg så sjukt ut att jag började gapskratta och garvade i flera minuter.
Sen somnade jag. Idag hände det som inte fick hända.
Viktigt möte. Myndigheter och sånt skit inblandat.
Mitt under mötet kom jag att tänka på mina olika stora armar och började fnissa. De övriga deltagarna blev först lite förvånade och när jag inte slutade (kan lova att jag verkligen försökte) så började de bli irriterade.
”Alltså…förlåt, jag kom bara att tänka på en sak. Jag ska skärpa mig nu.” mumlade jag och bet mig i läppen.
Mötet fortsatte och tio plågsamma sekunder senare brast jag ut i ett flatgarv som inte gick att hejda längre. Tårarna rann och jag hickade och kippade efter luft.
”Vad är det som är så kul?!” frågade en person argt.
”Alltså..det har inget med mötet att göra. Jag…min ena arm är mycket smalare än den andra” och här kunde jag inte fortsätta för jag bara skrattade och höll på att bryta ihop för att jag inte kunde sluta.
"Well, och det upptäckte du nu eller?” säger mötesledaren syrligt.
”Nej, igår kväll.” tjöt jag.
”Är det något som du känner är relevant i sammanhanget eller kan vi går vidare enligt agendan?” det gick inte att ta miste på att hon tyckte jag var en komplett idiot. Vilket jag också kände mig som.
Det gjordes några försök att fortsätta mötet men vi fick bryta och ta en paus ”så att somliga kunde lugna ner sig och komma till sans”, som mötesledaren ilsket uttryckte det. Jag flydde in på toaletten för att skratta färdigt och få det ur systemet, men plötsligt var det inte alls kul längre. Jag glodde bara dumt på mig själv i spegeln och såg hur mascaran rann i små rännilar nerför kinderna.
Det var heller inte kul att gå tillbaka in i konferensrummet och möta de misstänksamma blickarna från de andra.
Faktum är att jag har inte skrattat en enda gång sedan dess. Jag noterade även att de som förut satt bredvid mig nu hade flyttat sig ett par platser bort. Peace!
Sachiko Blogs by Sachiko, February 21, 2012, at 10:17 at the Tidspress är ett alldeles för milt ord för att beskriva hur det ser ut just nu. Så istället för text får ni två bilder av hur det ser ut på mitt fönsterbräde i vardagsrummet just nu. 
Peace!
Sachiko Blogs by Sachiko, February 20, 2012, at 7:00 pm It causes trouble with my connection at the moment, hence the low level of activity on the blog on my part. The few times the connection is actually working, I put on trying to plug, until hell breaks up the next time. I am also a walking blood sugar when I'm on days 2 med pulversoppor. I have also cut back on snuffing Quite a big. These two things combined mean that I not only that I am more people angry than usual, but also that there is a substantial risk that I run amok at the slightest adversity. So yes, with connection problems you can of course might imagine how this day has been? Against his better judgment, I bought Nutriletts Wild Berry Shake. Was tricked the new packaging and thought improved the content. Ack Men nej, content is equal illasmakade all Nutriletts other soups are, and always has been. That they never learn.
How is it that all other brands manage to do relatively well-powdered soup but Nutrilett continue driving on their "drinking potato flour and nedmalt content from a vacuum cleaner bag" concept? Do they not have return customers? Luckily, I refueled with favorite flavors from other brands. I do not care Nutrilett is cheaper, it is so painfully awful to drink the soup that it is not worth the bucks you save. In fact, I want to have five-digit charge if I should drink them ever again. Okay, Now begins the connection sticky again…best to conclude. PS. I think someone should invent a powder diet that tastes sandwich cake or grilled bacon wrapped fläskfilé.DS. 
Peace!
Sachiko Blogs by Sachiko, February 19, 2012, at 1:08 pm The phone started ringing at eight this morning and then it went all downhill. My illusion of sleep was crushed brutally and instead I had to spend the beginning of the day to schedule things and match with exams and exam work. The result was that I have not a single free weekend until the end of April. No available weekdays for that matter, though there is nothing unusual.
If people think I am anti-social freak for a few months so they may submit a complaint letters to the college. I'm starting to get quite stressed about the major design project, especially since it took me three days of reading to find the solution to a particular coding problem. It seems absurd to three days Research resulting in five lines of code feeble. I can say that the three days were not included in project planning.
During a lesson, says the teacher also (the wide and almost incomprehensible peasant Scanian that this is translated into Swedish) ”…and you already know how the addChild command works, for we have gone through in previous lectures…”, then I sit dead straight in his chair and goes into panic mode that I must have missed something.
To make a long and rather boring story short (but equally boring) I sat and looked through all the lectures again, but without finding anything at all about addChild. I emailed the teacher and asked him to tell where and when this lecture / s must have been inches and where the hell I can find the link? Mail reply was that the info is available in the literature.
Here, I went completely, like the English puts it, bonkers and screaming at the computer screen:
"But you said it has been reviewed in a previous lecture, and now I have looked through your half unintelligible half Danish lessons twice, unnecessarily. And worst of all; I've got to sit and disturb me to death that you say the "terms" with [age], not the rest of us pronounce it [Legal information]. Aaargh, can not boot the System 'Dig away Skåne' again?”*. Thus have I passed by today's politically incorrect and oversimplified Paroxysm. Nice, then you can tick it off the to-do list. Now: All communication with the outside world shuts down and the day is devoted to coding the affective. 
*For those of you who missed it: Digging Away Skåne was a site that engaged people and divided the population into two camps, to such an extent that it was close to a clash of old school. You know, anything that includes a battlefield and people who, at the sound of war talk, smoke up somewhere in the middle with all the weapons we can muster.
Digging Away Skåne met annually to take some shovels and dig a trench to separate from the rest of Skåne Sweden. Some people took it seriously, some saw the humor of it all. Some were berserk.
But before the Swedish sydspetsens overall population begins to send strykninspetsade skewers cakes (attempt to say the last two words ten times in a row in quick succession) to me so I can say that I do not mind Scanians.
Overall.
It's only just this specific Scanian that gets on my nerves.
And the Scanian woman who rented the apartment / penicillin laboratory in Cyprus to me.
All other Scanians I like, though it may of course change the day I understand what they say. Peace!
Sachiko Blogged of Denada, February 19, 2012, at 11:50 at the  Yesterday it was time again. When I am down to the kitchen in the morning, I felt a distinct stench of corpses. I started thinking about what the neighbors I've ever seen, or even more, NOT had seen during the week. Counted on the fingers. Johansson … I had seen. Or was that Johansson's brother, by the way? Looks a little withered on hold… But after a while found that whether it was Jackson or his brother I've seen so would one of them probably missed the second of them if it was gone, so that there was nothing I needed to think about at all. And by the way, there is no valid reason why neither Jackson nor his brother would lie down and die under my kitchen sink, for it was from there that came. Odor. And then I realize it is time again. Go and dish out rubbish where they belong. For EVEN though I have a trash can and pay for municipal refuse collection so the municipality has arranged it so cleverly for himself that there is almost no longer any garbage that MAY be subject to the aforementioned garbage!
Let me say that I believe in our inherent desire to do good things. Most people WANT to do right. One wishes to comply with decent to the prevailing law-o-justice. One wishes to do the right thing, Working, earn their own money and paying taxes (though not so much perhaps). You WANT to do the best you can. Or at least feel that you are close enough. And that's when it happens! It is THEN you start to think about the current garbage sorting system! This is a typical way to annoy people by requiring, difficult, irritation, disempowering, and in some cases make it impossible for them to do the right! At home with me, there is sort of vessel, glass (colored and clear, metal, plastic, newspapers, Cardboard, filament, ceramics (yes it needed its own vessels to belong with me. Is a bit clumsy.), color paint residues and other hazardous waste, compost as well as the usual “burnable” waste. Where you still can not throw anything. Because IF you have a combustible sweep so it fits under the existing rules are almost always in on some of the more well-specified garbage containers. Compost boxes may be incidentally have ONLY the municipality's approved place of. It should NOT be composted anyway in the garden. This means that if I take up a carrot and eat it direktr from the garden plot, I'll go IN and discard tops. And what remains of the carrot because I do not like soil that crackles in the teeth as it ALWAYS is how careful than dry. Right now I have a small problem with the. The lid on my by the municipality authorized the compost is frozen and will not open. Hence the corpse-stench. 
Although I live in a small household we produce huge amounts of garbage. In the middle of the village is a waste sorting station where they DO throw newspapers, Cardboard, glass, Metal(cans) and plastic. Check the picture on the rubbish container on the left! Check the center hole of SOP-! Check the ditsvetsade thing that they were sitting there, so that NO ONE will get the idea to throw ANYTHING at any time other than SITE THAT ARE USED TO PACK!!! I brought a broken toy in the plastic. It kind of jerked in his hand who wanted to throw it into the plastic container. It was ALMOST right. Close enough liksom. But I dared not. For this over-protected and control of how I deal with my garbage makes me completely paranoid. Do they have cameras at the landfill? Does anyone if I'm doing wrong? Is it going to jump out a sopkontrollant from another container and shout “! I LOOKED probably what you did! Here is the fine o jail and maybe Gulag in two to three years…”I laid back toy car in my car and made a mental breakdown. Should I run to the dump with A toy car? It is four mil where. I drive Volvo. Gammal Volvo. I am constantly terrified that I should have to compete with the multinationals on emission rights of hazardous waste. What will be the environmental benefit of that I go there and throw this little innocuous toy? Or is there some other options? I do not say how I will do. But in my garbage can will this week be a carefully packaged sweep of small size. That can withstand being burned! Incidentally, I have met Managerial blogs scan! Sometimes, but very often, one encounters people who are almost magnetic. As is so interesting and has such an entertainment value that you and want to gobble on those in large tugggor. Though they know they must stay. Such is her. An incredibly creative and competent person that I will do my best to keep me around for a long time. Although most are in the form of course blog. I think she enriches my life. As we heard again; Tjing - Denada Blogs by Sachiko, February 19, 2012, at 1:52 at the Has landed after a drive that almost can be described as riding on a giant snorloska. Two – three centimeters of snow that, under the influence of 2 nice greenhouse effect degrees, melted within a few hours gives me that feeling. Going up the hill was an adventure in itself and I decided to take the easiest route, via trench.
Already, I drove one pair of wheels in the ditch to get no foothold at all while a tsunami gushed from the rock and slush molded behind the car, I will gather all the parts that came loose from the base (vehicle 's yes…) tomorrow, and see if I can glue gun with glue garbage cans that stood in the way. Tonight it was supposed to be the male / female meal. And it was almost; tjejmiddag more and Pontus. He is regarded not as a girl, but since he had the good taste to be mostly quiet (an example, many men should follow…read and learn) and with growing horror and fascination just listen to our snack, it felt very feminine yet. At times we forgot enough away that he sat with us and possibly screened we talk as much as you might want to do in a young man's companion. Ack yes, it does not kill makes. He was in all cases 19 years of youth before he was destroyed for all time.
I also think that it was entertaining to see how his face have matched the color scheme from rosenskindad to dark purple. The skin tone he adopted when Denada highly declared that she had just managed to put tits in the sauce and potatisgratängen was priceless. He subsequently fled the field and went to his girlfriend, and his think I can not get home until Denada gone back to her tomorrow. And, it was actually the first time I met my dear medbloggerska Denada in reality. What a gas! She is a person that can not be described. She has to be experienced. A small amount of her in her reflected blogs, but it is just the tip of the iceberg. A fragment of the real thing.
You know how it is when you formed an opinion of a man online, and although we sat and chatted for hours on Fäjset I never would have imagined this.
And I'm not very easily impressed.
For this man, I was mesmerized.
Tonight, I have heard anecdotes that would make most of you blush, or replace trousers.
I tried to persuade her to blog about some of the things she experienced and narrated tonight and I hope she makes it. The stories are too good not to be told to all.
I will not even try to recount some of the things she said because I can not do the stories justice, do not tell the same vivid way as she and I have no right to steal her thunder and. This is her story, that she may dispense in installments if we have a hell of a lucky. My dearest BFF got the world crashing dinner and I thanked her by putting rhubarb in her laundry room and wash all dirty clothes I've collected on me since July.
I would have expected her to be a little whimpering heap of emotions (possibly bortsvedda eyebrows) and that the apartment would be a war zone, after the fire of the week. But no…apart from a closed area (She may possibly have borrowed Denadas barricades from Valentine's Day) so everything looked to be in top shape, including the attendant self.
I thought it was odd that I did not feel any smell of smoke? The explanation was in the middle of the living room in the form of an infernal machine which was presented as Rökätaren. I kept carefully away from it and just stared at it from a distance, mostly because I was not entirely clear on what else it could possibly eat. Already, for although it was quite small, I know from experience that it is jävligare to be bitten by a dachshund than a Rottweiler and I am a natural talent in paranoid skepticism. Especially if the machines emit small puffs of citrus odor.
Sort of like a carnivorous plant that emits sweet secretions of insects to land on the. Then it's good-night. Actually, I have posted some pictures from dinner or when I jealously sat and watched while Nettan and Denada emptied wine bottles, but now the clock a lot and I have to protest opened my bottle of wine (I would have drunk in Nettan tonight, and slept, if there were any justice in the world and if the temperature on the mountain was more or less compatible with the weatherman wild guesses) so I spend time on instead of trying to fall asleep without sleeping pills and accompanying manic shopping on eBay.
I had bought a small bunch of tulips for the hostess, which felt right sissy when Denada came with a fire extinguisher of a size that it could eliminate the great London fire of the history books. Now: sängfösardrinken which I have named Quantity, in short,. It may be that the glass I found in the bar-cum once housed one or two goldfish. Peace!
Sachiko Blogs by Kelb, February 18, 2012, at 1:47 pm  I've turned into me and licks right now my soul flesh wound. It all started when an older man suddenly began throwing abuse at me, I turned sharply and threw me out a volley profanity. The exchange of insults arose and after a short while it became clear to me that gubbfan probably suffered from Tourette's syndrome and that this was a fight I could not win.
I started feeling me up and threw away a pathetic Fool! with about the same effect as trying to stop a charging rhino with a PEA-SHOOTER. It rattled invectives from the old man and several took pretty good, he got me on the ropes and decided simply to -din vedervärdige schajas! I can also tell you that without having heard a single note but have seen this year's line-up, I understand that it should surely be equivalent to taking a look in the Melodifestivalen artist manager Christer Björkman's brain which in turn is likely to contain material that would hold a .
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