Back, Crack And Sack Wax Tops Mens' Christmas Lists

I write this for the thousands of women devoted to Beaverboosh’s weekly blog who are looking for that special last minute Christmas gift for their man.

Mimi’s blog on “Big Hanging” earlier this week has created pandemonium in waxing studios across London as men rush for a pre-holiday back, crack and sack wax.

It appears the proverbial genie is out of the bottle.

Camila, master Hollywood wax technician has shared a long held industry secret… it would appear that an inappropriately executed Brazilian can result in a “Big Hanging”.

Though it is unclear whether this condition can be scientifically replicated with Y chromo tackle, waxing studios all over the world have reported an upsurge in male bookings.

Far be it for me to take an interest in such a delicate topic, BB is nobly endowed in the front office thank you very much.

But girls, if you have felt a bit cheated, the answer is nigh! Get your man a back, crack and sack wax for Christmas. Hell, if you really feel cheated, get a 10 treatment gift certificate.

Your man will walk a bit taller in the gym showers and it will put a bit of ho, ho, ho, in your Christmas stocking.

Top of the season to one and all.

Beaverboosh

You’ll Be Bored

Christmas season, jul (yool), in Norway is upon us and we are now midway through the seasonal festivities celebrated by all Norwegians.

In Norway, the julebord (yool a bored), literally Christmas (jul) table (bord), is a time honoured tradition starting at the beginning of December and running right up until jul on the 24th. Julebord commitments ensure that we in Norway have very busy social diaries throughout the month.

It also ensures that we are well prepared, and in match fitness, for the Christmas holidays, juleferie (yool a fairy a), during which the country shuts down for 12 days to eat and drink!

The julebord takes its form in many guises:

• julebord with the boys
• julebord with office colleagues
• julebord with the boys
• julebord with friends and family
• julebord with the boys

Regardless of the guise taken, all share a few common attributes:

• Traditional Norwegian Christmas food, julemat (yool a mat), is served
• All Norwegian men carrying the Viking gene will be pissed before the main course is served
• Style wins over substance, quantity wins over quality, bravado wins over brevity

While there are many julemat dishes, I would like to bring to attention a few of my personal favourites:

• Lutefisk (loot a fisk) is cod that has been soaked in water and a caustic bleach for many days until it turns into a jiggly jelly like thing. (I cannot do the science justice so for Beernada and those interested check out the link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lutefisk ). Yummo! It is served with bacon bits, mushy peas, ale, and aquavit, and is a personal favourite of Beaverboosh

• Smalahove (small a hove a) is sheep’s head where the skin and fleece of the head is torched, the brain removed, and the head is salted, sometimes smoked, and dried. The head is boiled and served with mashed rutabaga and potatoes. (I have copied this directly from wikipedia surrendering to the superior prose http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smalahove). Mmm Mmm! I cannot get enough of this! It is accompanied with dark stout and aquavit

• Reinsdyr (rhines deher) is reindeer that is cooked any way you choose. In our family, it is lightly grilled and served bleeding in a morel cream sauce with potatoes and Brussels sprouts. It is best accompanied with an 82 Margaux though in a pinch, a Lafite will do. I am moist with anticipation! My vegetarian sister, who stayed with us 2 years ago, upon hearing of this delicacy, broke into tears screaming Rudolph! (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rudolph_the_Red-Nosed_Reindeer)

Now, do not misunderstand me. BB loves Norwegian traditions. BB also loves merrymaking as much as the next party animal. I am Canadian. I once partied for 6 straight months in the South Pacific, getting to bed at half past the year (having become a clinical alcoholic – breakfast usually consisted of a two-four, slab, case, keg, barrel, or whatever the effin hell you call them where you come from)!

31 days of julemat, ale, aquavit, and the occasional claret, is a stuffing of marathon proportions. My organs are starting to hurt. I am constantly slurring my speech and remind Girl of Dean Martin in the old Celebrity Roasts.

We are only halfway through December and tradition is taking its toll! I will wait patiently and hatch a cunning plan in January. I will go to an ashram in India to fast and do yoga until half past 2009. My inner voice is telling me "you'll be bored".

Beaverboosh

Stairway Denied

Led Zeppelin played last night for the first time in 17 years in London. The band came together for a one off gig in a charity tribute to Ahmet Ertegun, the man who first signed them to Atlantic records.

The band called it quits in 1980 after its legendary drummer John Bohnam, Bozo, died choking on his vomit in his sleep after a heavy drinking session. A rock and roll death of Spinal Tap proportions. Jason Bohnam, his son and a great student of Bonzo’s style, admirably filled his shoes.

Tickets were sold through a lottery website, which had 30 million hits for 22 thousand tickets within hours. It was easier finding a virgin on Patpong Road than getting a ticket to this concert. Even Buffet and Gates couldn't get their hands on any! If they could, top end commanded $160,000 USD.

This event, was billed as the concert of the new millennium, bigger than Ben Hur… hell bigger than Disaster Area!

And by all accounts, it was brilliant!

Needless to say, Beaverboosh could, by no means procure a ticket. I took the Zep two dvd set for a spin after a few jars and played air guitar, singing at the top of my lungs, delivering many well rehearsed rock god poses, like I was playing live to 22,000 people.

I am spent today. It was one of the best living room concerts I have been to. Luckily for Girl, she was on a London pre-xmas shopping recy and did not have to witness this facile juvenile act.

When I was 12, I wanted to play guitar like Jimmy Page, and sing and look like Robert Plant. This is no different to millions of other 12 year old boys, through time, who are deeply into music and its roots.

Today, I play guitar like Adrian Belew, sing like David Sylvian, and look like… well, no one on the planet has hair like Robert Plant, except Pomgirl, but she’s a girl, and its darker. I cannot complain!

Zep are the original, original rock gods, and invented heaviosity! They are musician’s musicians – technically outstanding musicians, songwriters, album composers, performers, and rock gods… and they are from England. All rock gods hail from England as surely as Vikings hail from Norway!

Zep were my true first music love, my first religion, and probably had the biggest influence on my misspent youth, along with sex and drugs.

Though this concert was a one off, there are rumours of a second concert in Melbourne. I am like a cunning fox circling the global concert ticket hen house.

I will not be Stairway Denied again!

Beaverboosh

I Ski Do

Ski season is upon us in Norway, Girl and I have been drooling in anticipation for weeks. We pray at the church of ski every weekend, religiously, and do not miss one trip to the altar for our weekly offering.

This can sometimes put off friends when during winter they ask of our availability for weekend plans. My response is categoric. We are unavailable until the first weekend of May.

It is said that Norwegians are born with skis on their feet, which explains why child birth without a midwife is unseen here.

Canadians have not quite evolved to being born with skis on their feet, for most of us it is skates, but herein lies a common love of winter activities.

Girl and I have a weekend routine that is both a compulsive and addictive antidote to the work week. Without it, we would surely perish at the hands of demons.

1. We drive to our place (Girl’s parent’s place) in the mountains Friday after work
2. We wake up early Saturday morning for first tracks and ski aggressively for an hour with most no one on the hill. 4 runs from ~1000 metres vertical does the job, especially if it is a powder morning
3. We stop for a scrummy Norwegian breakfast: cheese, bread, cheese, bread, cured meats and pate, and cheese… and huge lattes (and a cheeky Marly light if BB is hung)
4. We watch skiing on TV for a jot (cross country, biathlon, downhill, ski jumping…)
   We don our cross country kit and head out for 2 to 4 hours in the boreal mountains in either the lower, mid or upper tracks, sometimes combining them. Sometimes we take our head lamps and don’t come back until it is dark (not hard as it gets dark 15:00ish in December when the solar noon altitude is ~7 degrees)
5. We sip an après ski aperitif (preferably bubbly if Mrs. BB, the champagne monster, has the keys to the cellar!) and watch more skiing on TV
6. We eat dinner: raclette, fondu, elk, or other various mountain foods (preferably with a fine claret if BB or FiL have the keys to the cellar!)
7. We talk about the day’s skiing and what we will ski tomorrow. The boys talk about riveting topics like the quality of snow, temperature, waxing (not of the Brazilian ilk), and techy macho bullshit stuff
8. We go to bed and have passion in the Super-G, slalom, free ride, telemark or off-piste position
9. We go to sleep dreaming about skiing… powder dreams are best as they are magical… avalanches are a nightmare
10. We repeat on Sunday

We drive back to Oslo Monday morning, straight to work, and talk to everyone in the office about skiing on the weekend… and wait in great anticipation for Friday to come around.

If we are not in Norway, we make the pilgrimage to the Alps or North America. Though the routine may vary slightly, we are at the the big altar daily, of the 2,000 - 3,500 metre variety. Nothing stiffens one's faith like 6,000 metres of vertical before noon, hallefuckingluiah!

Now if you don’t ski, or even if you do, this may seem painfully tedious! I totally understand this and do not wish to appear a missionary seeking conversion. If I was reading someone’s blog about their obsession for say trainspotting or feltching, I would tune out immediately pal! One man’s hell is another man’s heaven, gender in-specific of course! The church of ski is tolerant.

When Beaverboosh met Girl, we properly courted for 6 months before consummating our relationship, at the beginning of the ski season. I know this is very old fashioned but we really got to know one another, and put a big tick in the ski box!

Thankfully after six months the natural talent for passionate cuddling that we Northern Hemisphere folk biologically posses from enduring long cold winters was unleashed. Thank effin god, my testicles had swollen to the size of a Moose’s!

We both knew, even in those early days, that one day we would look each other in the eyes, and say I ski do!

For a Canadian dude, you cannot get any better than this!

Beaverboosh

Second Place Is For Losers

Norway was bumped into 2nd place by Iceland in the 2007 UN Human Development Index (HDI) this week. Well done Iceland who has been No 1. in the Russian Money Laundering Index (RMLI) since the fall of the USSR! Norway had held the No. 1 spot since 2001, when it bumped Canada, who had held the top spot for all but two years since 1985.

The HDI is a composite of 3 measures: life expectancy, literacy and Gross Domestic Product (GDP). This is basically a gross proxy that tells us we have lots of money, can read well and think we are clever, and live longer! This last measure is understandable as both Norwegians and Canadians are very boring but laugh a lot both of which contribute to longevity.

Other surveys released this week offer less surprising results and included:

• The Name a Stuffed Animal Mohammed Index (NSAMI) : Sudan
• The We Finally Got Rid of the Cunt Index (WFGRCI) : Australia
• The Suburb Rioting and Sheep Burning Index (SRSBI) : France
• The Un-removable President Index (UPI) : Russia
• The I Can No Longer Calculate Our Inflation Rate Index (ICNLCOIRI) : Zimbabwe
• The Shedding Tears for Generals Index (STGI) : Pakistan
• The Deeply and Darkly Disturbed Prime Minister Index (DDDPMI) : Britain

What the HDI survey does not measure is happiness!

A recent survey found that Scandinavians admitted to being depressed more often than other Europeans… the Mediterranean countries were so happy that I considered moving!

So being highly developed clearly leads to depression. Great, but somehow I feel I have always know this.

However, Scandinavians are more happy with their jobs than anyone else in Europe. 70% surveyed said they were happy or very happy at work, compared to 50% in the UK. Belgium workers came in at 30%. If you have ever been to Belgium this needs no explanation.

The Norwegian statistics are explicable. Most people in Norway are out of the office door at 3 pm, leave at noon on Friday for their weekend places, take all of July, Christmas break, Easter and most of May off work, and in general do eff all during the day but talk about what they are going to do when they finish work.

More than half of the work force in Norway is employed in some capacity for the government. When you add in the politicians, the unemployed, the infirmed, the prisoners, the elderly, and the schoolchildren, you are left with about a dozen people that actually do the work. Unfortunately, I am one of them.

And everybody in Norway earns pretty much the same spondoolies! No wonder they are so effin happy, even the street cleaners drive Mercedes!

Canada has held the number one spot on the Human Doughnut Index (HDoI) since it was bumped by Norway from the No. 1 spot on the HDI. Canadians spend 1 in every 25 dollars at Tim Horton’s the national doughnut chain. The HDoI is a proxy measure for fat arses and love handles, one of the best global indicators of civilised development.

Clearly Canadians and Norwegians are very developed human beings!

Lies, damned lies and statistics, eh!

Beaverboosh