Has it really been three weeks? apparently so, so the best thing to do say hello. This over here is the island of Bukkoy where I've been spending my time. It's a very beautiful place and the most authentic 10th century spot on earth. The Norwegians were a great bunch, though their language is beyond my mastery. I think the word for beer is 'erde' but I could be wrong. Of course beer is not very welcome over there. They ask you to attend psychiatric therapy if you live over there and you're known to drink spirits on a regular basis, and of course the pubs aren't open at all on a Sunday. Go figure. (To get the idea, you'd be better off naked in the street fellating a billygoat while swearing at nuns than having a bottle of whisky in your hand)

The thing that screwed me up the most is when i looked up and asked "What was that?" only to be told "Oh, that wash night. It ish now tomorrow." Yup, what I thought was just a passing cloud was the sun dipping its head below the horizon for a minute. Try getting a decent night's kip with that happening for a week and you know my feelings towards my bed. Can't knock the food though, if you ever feel short of cabbage, shrimp or paprika flavoured crisps, Norway's your place.

I'm being critical when i shouldn't be. The trip was a riot from start to finish. The people were fantastic and the land was gorgeous, if you get the chance to do it then you should, it's truly great. But when they ask you to come sleep in a tent, with two other blokes, in a clearing, in a forest, on a tiny island, in the middle of the Haugesund, in the rainy season... RUN. And don't stop. When's rainy season I hear you ask? Wait another ten minutes and look up. #1 Amusing thing tourists do in Norway? Wait for the rain to stop before going out.

The film crew were a treat though. On the island at the same time as the Karmoy Viking Festival (us) were a norwagian film crew making a film to be shown in the new museum. Perfectly fair, but as true of film crews the world over, they didn't seem to have the faintest clue as to what they were doing. I helped out for a day, and so I find myself in the longhouse sat opposite a German who doesn't speak a word of English and you can imagine my attempts at German.

So I'm chatting away to him about the socio-economic factors present in the world of Quantum Theory and he's busy teaching me how to make waffles out of spit and treebark (well that's what it looked like) when the scene is explained to us. You see, we're on the scene where King Harald I is talking to the highest preist in the land and Odin's about to walk in and reveal some earth shattering fact or other, but we've got to ignore it or something. So let me get this straight, The King and the Pope are in a pub when God walks in. And you're telling me that this isn't a joke? oooooh, it's a grand epic tale. Well that's alright then.

Anyway, if you wanna go to Norway, take the Fjordline ferry from Newcastle, it is a treat everyone should take at least once. It truly is an unforgettable experience.

So I'm back at home and stuff's slowing down again. I'm no longer running the RPG society for the university (since i haven't been a student for a decade) and so my brain kicks in with all sorts of other things that i could be doing instead to while away my time. I've been reading webcomics again and Penny Arcade always amuses the crap out of me. I've just blown an hour or so reading Count Your Sheep and as per usual my brain kicks up with "You could do a webcomic" and again I have to beat it to death with the fact that i can't draw. For toffee. Although offer me booze and hookers and I might learn. And what would it be about anyway? Well, Art, Philosophy, Quantum Theory, Cows... nope, probably just games and boobs.

You see my brain has at least four different sections to it. There's the left lobe that's analysing the day, thinking about food, shopping, work, driving, all the rest. The right lobe is busy cracking problems about Splinter Cell or Puzzletome. The back of my brain is double checking that I'm still alive, dressed, breathing (never forget the breathing). And there's my frontal lobe. My frontal lobe (hereafter known as Alex) is the one that gets me in trouble. It's always sitting there shouting "Look! Look! There's a Nobgag over there! Lets Tell Someone!!" It's also the bit of my brain that makes me do dumb things. Like RPG's, Stand Up Comedy. And live on a fekking island for a week. But them's the breaks.

I think there's something in us, or at least me, to drive us on and keep us busy beyond that which we have the time to do. I'll identify it one day and write a doctoral thesis. Then i'll hunt the motherfucker down with a big fucking gun.

Peace out, my mo-fo's.

I'm too tired really to think about much right now. So I thought I'd share with you all my philosophy on Guns in Gaming. (Note for the terminally dense: This is about roleplay gaming, not reality. Catch up.) Now there's a school of thought that thinks that you can always use a bigger gun. With hollowpoints stuffed with liquid Silver and Uranium. With a telescopic sight that can pick out craters on Uranus. And a Nomex grip. And a magazine so large you could fit a hippo in it. That fires at 3000 rounds per microsecond. And automatically targets anything with a human heat signature.

Very nice says I. But you can get bigger says I. And while you're drooling about your next gun I'll pop a cap in your ass with my pump-action 2 shot I got for a tenner at the start of the adventure. And then nick yours. Cos i could probably flog it for a couple of quid to the Fixer. Or use it. Or melt it down. Whichever's funnier at the time.

Chill on, my peeps.

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