The Dictatorship of Lahtistania

Beware of Flying Similes

In English: Hello. This is a diary, or something like that. I use either English or Finnish depending on how I feel. I'm a pessimistic, sarcastic and cynical hermit with trust issues. There are no like-buttons or comment whoring, cookies, sponsors or subscribers. I won't try to sell you anything, either. English isn't my first language so I'll most certainly make mistakes: pointing out an error in my text doesn't make me flip my lid. My contact info can be found on the main page. You can placate me by sending me more funny homophones and other silly mistakes, I collect those.

About times and dates: I'm a Finn, so my time zone is GMT+3, we use the 24-hour system, so 1 PM is 13:00, and date is DD.MM.YYYY (02.01.2022 = January 2nd, 2022). Adjust your mindset accordingly.

Disclaimer: tämä on pessimistis-aggressiivisen naisihmisen verkkopäiväkirja, useimmiten nimeltään Lahtistanian diktaattorin kootut sadatukset. Sen lukemista ei voida suositella edes pääosalle aikuisista ihmisistä. Sisältö ei sovellu lapsille. Sarkasmivaroitus! Täältä ei löydy evästeitä, mainoksia, tykkäyspyyntöjä tai kommenttihuorausta.

29.04.2023 (17:47)

A very indecent version of crocheting.

A special mirror for vain people. They'll still be staring into a mirror but at least they'll feel guilty about it.

Bass voices need not apply, this tenure is reserved for tenor voices only.

There's also an event called "Old Toy Swap", but this particular event is meant for forensic detectives and hospital staff.

Tätä ennen kirkkoherra piti toki ampua väijyksistä. Kirkkoherrojen rauhoituskausi alkaa marraskuun lopussa ja päättyy heti vuodenvaihteen jälkeen.

Potilaiden säilytyksessä turvaudutaan yhä epätoivoisempiin ratkaisuihin. Onneksi on sentään mehukestit.

I absolutely detest bugs. Especially spiders and beetles, but a simple housefly can make me dive for cover like a soldier in battle, and if I'm feeling especially bad, an unexpected encounter can make me completely illogical, scrub my hands for hours or cling to my saviour (usually Mikko) for hours on end.

Sometimes Norwegian language sounds like a mixture between the worst possible hangover and a massive throat infection. Errr, let me correct my statement: Finnish sounds like the speaker has a grumpy hangover, Norwegians like they're in the stage we call "laskuhumala", very inebriated and getting closer to passing out, and Swedes represent "nousuhumala", which is the rising drunk state where most people are loud and jolly and mildly shrill.

We sometimes watch a history documentary on my laptop. Mikko can’t follow spoken English as easily as I do, so I have to put on Youtube’s speech to text-subtitles. The results can be hilarious, so we’ve just found out that driving a male coach* [mail coach] was difficult, God [guard] was armed with a pistol and a cutlass, and high women [highwaymen] operated in gangs and could be very dangerous. Also, if the narrator talks about cock horses, the subtitle automatically censors the word “cock”.

Mikko bought French cheese. While I’m pretty sure the stench doesn’t carry over the borders to either Russia or Sweden and we’re safe from international conflict provoked by an obvious chemical weapon, I’m afraid the Finnish government will, at some point in the next few days, order a blockade around Hausjärvi and evacuate everyone from a hundred kilometre radius before nuking our house and the cheese it contains to ground zero.

14.04.2023 (00:45)

The guy is wealthy enough to have a manor next to his bed.

Canned bear meat is oddly popular.

This woman who abuses her own eyelashes.

Apparently it's also important to inform people that the smith is black.

Don't eat brains, you'll get fat.

The pizza is cold but the bloke who makes it is called Owen and he is very attractive.

Mikkoa myydään alennuksessa kappalehintaan.

You know those action movie heroines whose hair is always flawless and pristinely clean and organised even after massive chases and worst battle scenes? Mine is actually the complete opposite. A regular night and mine looks like I'd jumped out of an exploding aeroplane on a parachute that's burning, then collided with a cattle train and encountered a minotaur who has sadly mistaken the train to the slaughterhouse to his usual Labyrinth Express, before wrestling three pigs in a vat of grease and canola oil? That's what my hair looked like this morning. I could have given those 80's troll toys a run for their money - nudity and neon colours notwithstanding. Not to mention I have to wake up before noon today. Now wholly convinced the world is a cruel and terrible place.

Your husband knows to prepare for the worst when you begin your speech with a "you know it's illegal to kill your wife, right?" and lead on with "actually, it'd cost you more than our next credit card bill will," and follow up with a quick "there's a 'veni, vidi, vici', so I came, I saw, I bought, my husband might threaten to strangle me and bury my rotting corpse in a bog..." At this point Mikko wasn't quite as distracted as I'd hoped, but you win some, you lose some. I'm alive and well and he's not angry so that counts as a win, right?
Right. Vici.

And on a completely unrelated note: if you ever feel the need to be traumatised, ask to see some of my mother's erotic porcelain paintings. I swear the characters in them look like an unholy orgy offspring between an octopus, a Moomin and a hippie, and they work as an equivalent of a cold shower even for the most hormonal and randy of teenagers. I swear people keep breaking them "by accident" on purpose, but mum has glued them so many times everyone's given up.

07.04.2023 (21:15)

It's not that I sometimes tend to write hopeless run-on sentences in English. It's just that most of my sentences are training for a marathon.

Sex might become a bit too hot when you replace your brassiere with a brazier.

Coq au Vin loaded into a van.

Men who drawl are much more tolerable than men who salivate excessively.

Some people feel like their hears gallop, others feel the need to fill a questionnaire.

When your knickers begin to move on their own, you'll wish you were wearing the plain ones.

It's plain to see that plane knickers are stupid.

Loud poop is a very good reason to disappear.

Maailmassa on parempiakin nukkumapaikkoja.

It's been a while. Where to begin?

I got such good treatment at the hospital that I sent the unit staff (nurses, cleaning crew etc) a treat: a large fruit basket and five massive boxes of cookies and pastries a couple of weeks after my release. I didn't even realise how much stomach pain I'd been in before the surgery. It'd been getting worse for years, and I was just used to feeling uncomfortable. I was used to taking a half-a-pill of (about 200mg) of Ibuprofen once a month for either period cramps or headache, and the amount of painkillers they gave me felt mildly terrifying. The unpleasant feeling in my gut was conveniently ignored.

Sadly there were some complications from the surgery: namely, a pinched nerve on my leg. They tested multiple painkillers, and the sixth one (in late October) finally worked. Until then I’d barely slept for several months, and to sleep for two hours I had to walk across the house to the kitchen downstairs and back again for a cold pack which had been kept in the freezer, then rinse and repeat every two hours all night.The doctors tried various meds and one decided to try a cortisone injection straight to my groin, and that didn't help. The last thing they thought they could try was in November: I took one pill around six in the evening: in less than an hour I could barely stay up and then passed out, sleeping fourteen hours with my clothes on, my laptop perched on my chest, and teeth unwashed. Woke up feeling like a herd of cattle had both run over me and shat as they passed over me. I slept like a log for several days until my body gradually got used to the increasing dose. I hate the medicine though, because it makes my mouth constantly dry and leaves a sour taste for hours. I’ll probably have to have surgery for the leg pain though.

We’ve been busy though. The surgery, my recovery and then the pinched nerve pushed back our schedule for months. On the bonus side I had a chance to plan the swimming pool room to the end:
-The bottom of the pool will have water lilies and their leaves on blue mosaic base.
-The sides of the pool will continue with blue mosaic and will feature a few seaweeds and some colourful fish as well as water lilies reaching upwards pictured from the side. Lots of detail, including tiny fish and something at the bottom of the “lake” between the seaweeds. -A fountain in the middle of the pool.
-One wall will have specially designed oriental tiles in the middle, but others will feature landscape with sky and hills in the background, with birds and possibly butterflies in trees, bushes and flowers.
-The floor will be a green mosaic with some mosaic flower designs, perhaps, for lawn and flowers.
-Oriental arches above the doors and windows to compliment the ceiling, which has three panelled arches (in youtube)
-The bathtub will be moved into the swimming pool room for nice hot baths. Will hire a mason to seal it with bricks, then cover the bricks with mosaics - not sure what yet, though. Hmm.
-Also a shower next to the tub, with a solid stone bench. Can you do a Moorish arch from bricks and mortar? I think so, and I think our mason is up to the challenge.
Result = eternal and unchanging indoor garden in the swimming pool room. From mosaics. At first I thought I'd hire a designer to draw the plans for the mosaics, but I got struck by a billion ideas all at once, and we’ve been sketching and having fun since then.

I did some Windows updates on my old and reliable Lenovo T450: the very same day the keyboard stopped functioning and sound drivers went haywire. I'm absolutely gutted, although I admit the fan was already so worn it sounded like a dying chainsaw tested against an oil barrel containing twenty furious squirrels. Now I'm back with my old-er and trust-ier T430. This thing weighs a ton though, feels like I'm lugging a brick up and down the stairs, the speakers are terrible and the battery is just ridiculously bad. My next victim will be T460, and I'm hoping we'll be able to gut it and assemble a Frankenstein's monster combining the SSD drive from T450, the extra memory blocks I have, and some fan parts from whatever-looks-best.
Let's just hope it's less annoyingly philosophical than Shelley's monster and leaves more carnage.

You know what is the most annoying thing about Facebook Marketplace? It’s the scammers who attempt to rip you off ("I'll send a courier service to pick the item up", my arse!) and the loan sharks who think that because you’re listing some duplicate figurines, you’re also broke and need a ridiculous loan from an unreliable company. So, I got tired of them. I did a Google image search for “spread male anus”. Added one word, searching for “spread hairy male anus”. Saved one of the images and then sent it as a reply to the next two scam-attempts, after which I also blocked them. I figured that the worst case scenario would be Facebook banning me for a while for sending disgusting porn pics to innocent scammers, but since they don't give a shite about their users getting message-bombed by scammers, I decided the risk was worth it. Just two pictures of a disturbingly hairy male anus have bought me months of peace. I think they didn’t like the image I sent. They might have a blacklist for people who send them hairy male arses. Imagine that.

Mikko was excited about those escape room games that are used to train businesses about information security: apparently they bring a freight container outside your premises and then your employee(s) can unlock the doors with tasks concerning information security and safety. I invented a way to improve it though: you have half an hour to get out or they ship the entire container to Bolivia. Coincidentally also a way to get rid of incompetent staff.

I spend half my time trying to translate the rest of humanity to my own language. Today, for example, I learned that “a big bear of a man” means someone who is only slightly less hirsute than an average Persian rug and could possibly earn some money by renting out the empty space between their ears for storage space.
Good to know.

I'll try to write more, but I'll have to change to a new laptop next, and I'll have to start looking for something else: I’ve enjoyed switching between the older ThinkPads because all I really had to do was go through some tinkering with privacy (because fuck off, Microsoft) and gut both laptops to switch the SSD drive, extra memory and boom, you’re all set to go. The problem is that no ordinary laptop works as fast as I need it to. I already had to upgrade the RAM, but even with 12GB it’s maxing out when I really get into a flow, and I need to do part of my work with a pen and paper while I await my computer to catch up. The whole thing drives me bonkers. I also had to switch my web pages to another host. The previous space host only supported basic html and java, but now I could, on principle, build something more modern and efficient. The problem is: do I want to? Gah.

I'm not a terribly good baker. My cakes especially end up looking lopsided and sad, so I didn't even try. Instead I made Mikko a massive raspberry and peach trifle for his birthday (he turned 61 today, BTW. Mine was in March, I'm now 43). Unfortunately he came in too soon and caught me with half a peach stuffed in my mouth. I tried to keep it cool and played the part of St Katte-the Definitely-Not-a-Peach-Thief, but he caught me, damn it, when I failed to explain what I was looking for in the drawer while my cheeks were stuffed like a hamster’s and was getting sugar juice running down my chin.
At least the trifle is good. Was.

Tallipihan Suklaapuodissa oli myynnissä tuote nimeltä 'Tampere-kahvi'. Tuli mieleen että väri ja haju on varmaankin suunnilleen sama kuin Tammerkoskessa pitkän hellejakson jälkeen, seasta löytyy epämääräisiä sattumia (kuten fukseja ja varastettuja polkupyöriä) ja jos juot kupillisen, löydät itsesi seisomasta Hämeensillalta persaus paljaana.