5 Reasons I Fucking Hate The Dentist

Recently, it came to my attention that I had a ginormous hole in my tooth. After dawdling and procrastinating for a good two weeks, I finally mustered up the courage to make an appointment at the dentist’s.

Today was D-day, and I was a depressed, shaking mess, much to the delight of my evil, sadistic boyfriend from hell. There aren’t a lot of things that scare me (clowns, mimes, the prospect of falling and the dentist) so I was not exactly thrilled when he mocked my Lamazz-like breathing and shifty eyes.

Let me just start by saying I do NOT have a phobia. A phobia is an IRRATIONAL fear of something. My fear is absolutely and totally rational and I have 5 rational reasons to back it up. Enjoy.

1. Their offices are eerily similar to Guantamo torture chambers. Or so I’d imagine.
Actually, they make waterboarding seem like a petty alternative.

2. You can hear them drilling and doing weird things but you can’t see what the hell they’re really up to.

3. Dentists and male pornstars are the only people often heard saying “Open wide(r)!” Coincidence?

4. Dentists insist on making small talk, even when they have both hands in your mouth and you obviously can’t talk.

5. When leaving the dentist office, you often look like a constipated hamster and/or Joey Potter, lopsided smiler from Dawson’s Creek.

Little Miss Grumpy Face

Expectations. We all have them. Yes, even you, the person who’s slamming the “book of cliché phrases” in my face claiming they don’t have expectations because expectations lead to disappointment.

Those people are partly right. Expectations do lead to disappointment, but there is not a single person in the world who doesn’t have them. We all try not to, because we’re afraid to get hurt, but even when we keep screaming “I don’t expect anything!”, there’s still that tiny voice in our heads that says “Yes, I do.”

I transferred schools this year, so on my first day I tried to subdue the Hollywood-induced expectations as much as humanly possible. So no, I wasn’t expecting everyone to be interested in me and my arrival, getting out of their ways to come and talk to me, but secretly I expected someone to at least look my way. And they see teenagers are cold.

Thankfully, I grew out of that awkward pubescent phase and don’t really care that much about it, but it did make me wonder. I’m pretty pessimistic myself, my tiny inner voice doesn’t expect inordinate things, and yet it still manages to blow up in my face. If you’re an optimist: How do you keep doing it?

Color me stunned

As a child, I was teased with my strawberry blonde locks, so as soon as puberty kicked in, I did the only thing that made sense: I dyed the crap out of it. I’m 22 now and I can say that I have had pretty much every shade from ash blonde to dark brown. After experiencing tons of fun as a blonde I decided it was time to go back to my roots. Pun intended. I effing love puns!

Going from blonde to red sort of riddled me with ominous visions of Liberaci clown hair and as I am absolutely terrified to death of clowns I decided to go to a professional, rather than doing my usual home dye job. 80 euro and a request for “light copper” later I came out with what I can only describe as dark mahogany.

Really, hairdresser lady?

At this point, I was pretty pissed off. The word cunt may or may not have been uttered on more than one occasion. Two weeks and a bazillion hair washes later (dyeing your hair lighter than its current shade is quite difficult) I decided to take the matter into my own hands once more.

The local drug store doesn’t carry a lot of shades of red; it was either Hayley Williams Orange or Rihanna Red, so I decided to hit up the local New Agey/Wellness shop where they sell Henna Colour Powder in four or five different shades of red. Price: 7.95. I went for the ‘mahogany’ and made a run for it. (Hide the patchouly!)

I will now relate what went down as I got home and opened the package. The following story may contain gore. Viewer discretion is advised.

The package contained a packet of powder that looked, and smelled like dirt. If anyone had had access to the hair dye, I would’ve thought someone had tampered with it to mess with me. Even more so when I added the required boiling water. The yellowy powder turned into gross-looking mud that smelled of manure.

By the time I was done applying the mixture I looked like one of those mud-wrestling chicks. There was crap everywhere. I was secretly starting to wish the color wouldn’t take, or that I’d at least be dissatisfied with it.I can only imagine the look of pure horror on my face when I started rinsing out my hair and a barrage of brown poo-colored muck slid down my body.

It was probably quite similar to the look I had when I started blow-drying my hair, only to discover that it not only looked nice and natural. It looked exactly like the hair color I had assumed long lost. Damn you hair color gods.

Raspberry Almond Cake

When the weather gets gloomy, I bake to lift my spirits. This delicious cake combines the sweetness of summer fruit with the hearty flavor of comforting almonds, which is exactly what the doctor ordered to remedy the gloomy Belgian “summer” weather.

Ingredients:
125g raspberries (preferrably fresh, but I’ve used frozen on many occasions, they’re yummy too)
50g brown sugar
125g flour
65g white sugar
1tsp baking soda
1tsp baking powder
1 pinch salt
125g sour cream
30g butter
1 egg
30g sliced almonds

Method:
1. Preheat oven to 175°C. Butter  a 20cm baking dish (or use cooking spray, like I do).
2. Combine the raspberries with the brown sugar in a small bowl, set aside.
3. Combine the flour, white sugar, baking soda, baking powder and salt, set aside.
4. Melt the butter in a small bowl. Add the sour cream and egg. Fold the wet ingredients into the flour mixture. You should now have a dense, moist and smooth mixture.
5. Spoon 2/3 of the mixture into the baking dish. Spread raspberries evenly over the batter. Cover with the other third of the mixture. The raspberries will not be fully covered, that’s ok. Sprinkle with sliced almonds.
6. Bake for 40 minutes.

Gently dust the cake with powdered sugar before serving. It is best when eaten hot, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be a problem.

Short Guide to Evading Camping Fail.

Stop the Horror!

I just got back from a camping trip with my family – seven days of sharing a 15 square meter space (bathroom included – as well as the chemical toilet) with three people (two and a half, actually, but the smallest one somehow takes up the most space) and driving it through exotic places like Luxembourg, Belgium and suburban Aachen. And honestly? I loved it.

I grew up camping, I’m completely used to it. When I was young, my parents took us on a camping trip each summer, mostly through Northern Europe. The main purpose of our holiday was visiting things; cities, museums, parks and supermarkets (we ran a competition in who was to find the weirdest thing for sale in a shop). I guess I took over those habits, because that’s the same kind of holiday I go on now; no flying to Egypt or taking a bus to Spain and bake in the sun while the kid is entertained by a bloated furry-rabbit and a scary-looking clown, not for me! No, I just love me some adventure, yessir!

While I like camping as a cheap and easy way of travelling around, seeing lots of stuff, there are a lot of people who prefer camping in a more sedentary way. That is why I like camping, but not campingS. That is where you are confronted with your fellow minimal-comfort-requiring fun-seekers, and sometimes, it is not a pretty sight to see. Over the years I’ve had many experiences and gathered a lot of knowledge about the behaviour of the Homo Caravanus, and they are in dire need of some rules and regulations. But fear not – I will start you up with some ideas.

So here’s my “Short Guide to Evading Camping Fail”.

1) The first fact of camping is: no privacy. It’s imperative you remember this well: everyone can see you and everything you do from the moment you unzip your flap door. Just a handy ITYS-tip: if you don’t want to risk losing your face from the first moment on, practise putting up your camping equipment before you leave; because it *will* rain and your neighbours *will* find great hilarity in your struggling efforts at erecting a three-bedroomed Quecha with two whining kids running behind you and unfastening any pole you just fastened.
On the fair side: you get to watch everyone else as well. Even the older couple on the spot next to you who forgot to pull down the curtains by their bedside. Goodmorning to you, friendly Old German Guy!

2) What goes for seeing, is ten times less worse than for hearing. Tents are nothing but a piece of nylon cloth, so they’re about as soundproof as a legging. I once sat next to a couple who started arguing while having dinner in front of their tent. He said something too loud, the wife shushed him and glared at her husband, saying: ‘Let’s take it inside’, then they zipped up their door and she started yelling, shrieking and calling him names at the top of her voice. So remember, discretion is advised (or else, get yourselves some note-pads and scribble it out).

3) You know who are worst at privacy? Kids. If they could, they would just walk into any other tent or trailer without minding at all. So don’t be surprised if you wake up one morning, hung-over from a bottle of crap local wine, with an ashtray mouth, dirt under your eyes and a lump of grass in your hair and have to scramble for your sleeping bag because some six-year old is peaking in, gawking at your boobs. Smart girls always have an oversized T-shirt ready!

4) The little bit of privacy you have – treasure it. Keep it for yourself. Don’t force your surroundings to hear your detailed description of your toilet’s contents after another plate of that ‘mean foreign food’ or make them picture what place you meant when you said a mosquito bit you somewhere ‘funny’ last night. And for crying out loud, don’t walk around the grounds in a robe! That’s just creepy!

5) Fashion: a very hot topic in the camping world. One of the benefits of camping is, it’s quite easy to be the most stylish person around. If you wear shoes instead of Crocs or flipflops, you’re already halfway there. Pants with a belt instead of an elastic band: plus one. Tattoos that match in style – and – location on the body: up another notch. This ultimate pointer to turn you into a real rural Gisele Bündchen : avoid any item of clothing that has more than two colours per inch. Camping chic: look it up.

If we could all agree to hold on to these simple, basic rules, camping would be a much more pleasant, stylish and indeed, awesome experience. Thank you very much.

The disappearance of Alice Creed

I just finished watching the disappearance of Alice Creed and I am completely wired, so forgive my humdrum rant. Adrenaline, mixed feelings, euphoria and that typical “Oh my God!” feeling are all rushing through my head. Holy. crap. That movie was brilliant.

The premise is simple enough: two men plan to kidnap a young rich girl for ransom but as it goes with these things, chaos ensues.

I don’t want to give too much away but this plot has as many surprise twists as it has actors…that would be three.

In a bid to reign in my waterfall of critical acclaim, I will give you my top three reasons you should see this film.

1. Martin Compston. The Scottish lad from Ken Loach’s ‘Sweet Sixteen’ has aged well. His acting is superb and he really had me going right until the very end. His epic deception made me all giddy and gleeful (I’m weird that way), though it doesn’t exactly hurt that you see him prancing around the room naked a couple of times.

2. Not your average Hollywood Blockbuster. This movie is suspenseful from the first until the last second without bombarding the viewer with Wagneresque soundtracks and over the top special effects. There are only three actors, the soundtrack is minimalist (was there even music in this, I can’t remember, I was too busy sitting at the edge of my seat). In fact: there is no dialog in the first five minutes whatsoever. Where is your God now Wall-E?!

3. Boobs. If an amazing actor and the quaintness and simple brilliance of the movie don’t do it for you, you can still do it for the boobs. Gemma Arterton is gorgeous.

Better make it a big one

A friend of mine swears by the Paleo diet. Considering she’s in the army and a CrossFit affeccionado, I didn’t think she’d be into any diet, but then again it’s not that kind of ‘diet’, per say.

Paleo emulates the way we generally ate in the paleolithic era (well duh), which means a lot of fruit and veggies and meat, no dairy, no processed food, no added sugar, no corn and no potatoes.

It’s supposed to up your energy levels, make you lose weight, improve your sleep and your overall health. Hey, I’d like to sleep like a baby. Can this diet induce dreams about Eric Northman? It’s ok, I’ll settle for Alcide Hervaux.

I do, however, have a few reservations regarding this diet, because it pretty much goes against everything health experts have been pedantically screaming at us for as long as I can remember. Paleo doesn’t let you eat brown rice or whole-wheat bread though they keep telling us that should be the staple of our diet. They actually encourage you to eat meat. Isn’t that going to kill me? Isn’t that the Heart Attack express? It’s daunting to ignore all this and just go full-on paleo.

Furthermore, if there’s one thing that makes my skin crawl, it’s certain diets making scientific claims they can’t back up. Especially when they assume causality where there might as well only be correlation at best. Saying the Homo Sapiens’ health peaked in the paleolithic age and that we got sicker as we started farming is a very bold statement to make.

However, try googling for negative paleo experiences. Finding someone who actually tried paleo to speak out against it is rather difficult. After extensive research I found a few here and there who weren’t convinced it was the right diet for them, and only one who downright spoke out against it.

I also like the thought of ‘resetting’ my entire diet. To cut out everything that could potentially be harmful for you. A lot of adults have problems processing wheat, dairy and/or sugar. I like the thought of a full month detox (without having to starve myself thank you Gwyneth “Goop” Paltrow) and slowly reintroducing foods to see if any of them put me in a food coma.

So that’s what I’m going to do: try the Paleo 30. 30 days of paleo foods, starting next week.

I’ve been doing some groceries and if nothing else, Paleo taught me one thing: there is sugar in goshdarn everything. Ham, bacon, mayonnaise, tomato sauce, dried fruits. Did I mention there’s sugar in bacon?

The Dracula-Effect

I don’t know about you, but we over at Faghag Central are loving the fourth season of HBO’s True Blood so far. We’re four episodes deep and we’ve got a whole range of beautiful images to gaze at (Alexander Skarsgård striking poses behind Anna Paquin’s back – gorgeous) and cool lines to play with (Think of the possibilities of a line like: “You can’t have more, there isn’t any more, you drank the whole fairy and you’re going to your room.” Yay!)

It's not what you wish it was.

Because the fourth book of the Sookie Stackhouse novels, Dead to the World, has always been our favourite by far, we’ve been building up quite high expectations towards this season. And many of them have been fulfilled – last episode scored four half-naked man-chests vs. a measly two pair of girl-breasts. Ahhh. That’s why we love Alan Ball so dearly; he knows what his audience desires and is not afraid to deliver.

Perhaps you have noticed we’re somewhat shamelessly favourable of the character of Eric Northman (and his brilliant portrayal by Alexander Skarsgård). Why shouldn’t we be? He’s nothing less than Mr. DreamBoat à la ITYS. He’s hot, he’s funny, he’s smart … AND dark, evil and dangerous – he’s a vampire like we imagined one of them would be. He’s the vampire that we would’ve wanted to meet, one night, at a party perhaps, that would flirt with us for a while and then lure us outside, reveal himself and offer to bite us and make us his Childe (or whatever) because he recognised something awesome inside of us, and it would be all sexy and dirty … Oh, no, there’s no problem with our imagination, none at all.

Speaking for myself, I have felt the power of the “Dracula-effect” before. For a long time, people have been trying to find out what exactly it is that makes some women feel weak in the knees when they are confronted this mythical being; what exactly it is that allures girls to vampires. Is it the fangs, is it the blood? Is is their eternal youth and beauty? I wouldn’t know, but I do know I was still at the edge of my seat during the Dracula episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, even when Buffy was being hypnotized by this slightly ridiculous poor version of a young Nick Cave.

If you watch the picture above and think – that’s right, he does look a little ridiculous – but still feel something inside you go ‘purrr’: that’s it. If you secretly, for a second, longed to be her in that picture (I wouldn’t make such a face, though. That’s not your prettiest close-up, Sarah.), you too have felt it. That’s the Dracula-effect. You know you shouldn’t. But you can’t help it. It’s a very powerful thing once you’ve set your mind open to it. Dracula does it. Spike did it. Deacon Frost (Stephen Dorff in Blade) did it … and Eric Northman does it better than all of the above.

So, I’ll spend my weekend very, very jealous of all the people who were able to go to Comic-con and see them live, but will settle for the pretty pictures I got stuck in my head … I’ll share a last one with you.

I’ll keep you my dirty little secret

We all have them: guilty pleasures. Some people watch Jersey shore (fist pump!), others are more interested in the Housewives of Insert Your City Here. My current guilty pleasure is Pretty Little Liars.

For those of you who are now silently mocking,judging, pointing and laughing: keep it down you 16 & Pregnant groupies!

The premise

Four teenage girls are haunted by the murder of their best friend Alison. After Alison’s burial, the four friends start receiving text messages from a certain ‘A’, who threatens to expose all of their secrets. They must band together to stop this evildoer…season after season after season (Where’s your smoke monster now, Lost?)

What makes it so ridiculous?

First of all, it is completely unrealistic. Unless these girls suffer from a severe case of folie a quatre, there is just no way this ‘A’ person can get into the places he/she/it does and gather the info he/she/it does. The way the four of them simultaneously grab their phones and ominously read their text messages while looking slightly constipated doesn’t help either.

Another remarkable thing about this show is how difficult it is to make a distinction between their set and a fashion runway. These girls don’t leave their houses without being perfectly groomed and dressed to the nines. Then again, maybe I’m one of those few unlucky girls who didn’t have a personal stylist at age 16.

But Lauren, why do you watch this crap?

Uh, because it’s awesome, that’s why! I love me some teen drama. My friend and I have our weekly ritual of snuggling up on the couch with our two good buds Ben and Jerry and bitch about the things that are going on. When else can you say things like: “Oh. My God! I can’t believe he did that!” and get away with it? Never, that’s when.

It’s ok, you know you want to.

Piercing the Bubble

Stylish!

Imagine you were walking down your local shopping street and you passed a store bearing the sign you see above. Would you think it was a high-end haute couture top trend fashion store? Probably not, and you’d be right. Zeeman (‘Sailor’) is a chain where you can find cheap clothes, and by cheap, I mean cheap. In comparison, H&M is fancy chic expensive. But that doesn’t mean their clothes are ugly. To prove so, they organised a guerilla marketing stunt at the Amsterdam International Fashion Week past weekend. They set up a simple trap – and loads of people fell for it. Bad.

This was the ruse: a brand new aspiring designer of a mysterious label called ‘Frank’ would launch his first collection in an exclusive show – this was enough to feed the rumour mill and fashionistas everywhere flocked together, expecting a new ‘Viktor&Rolf’-like phenomenon.On the catwalk, they got to see ready-to-wear outfits along with evening dresses and, like a proper fashion show, it ended with a bridal dress. That final gown had some little screens woven into the big skirt, and halfway they started showing the Zeeman logo. The big screen in the background also turned yellow and blue and told us ‘Fashion doesn’t have to be expensive’. That was when people realised they had been tricked: this was a show of Zeeman’s new collection.

Now, this is almost exactly the same stunt IKEA pulled a few years ago, but I just love this kind of campaigns. How succesful this one was, is already being doubted, and out of all shown outfits, only six items are available to buy online, but I wanted to use this opportunity to come out in the open: I’m a Zeeman-fan. Huge one. I can’t pass one of their stores without checking out what’s on the racks. Because, sometimes, you just feel like shopping – whether you’re sad and need to buy something to cheer yourself up, or whether you’re happy and need to buy something to celebrate – but spending too much money can still make you feel guilty.
On such days, I run into the nearest cheap store and find myself a cute top for 5 euros or a trendy sweater for 12. I get the same amount of satisfaction as from buying something from a brand that’s ten times as expensive and I’ll enjoy the ‘new-ness’ of it just as long. No matter the shoddy quality or the imperfect cut; I’ll wear all my clothes maybe four or five times  before they end up on the ‘If I haven’t worn this by the next time I clean out my closet, I’ll probably consider throwing it away’-pile.
And the biggest plus: you get to be all smug about your great find when someone tells you they like your dress – because bragging how much money you spent on something only says ‘I’m not cool enough to get away with cheap stuff’, right ?

So here’s looking at you, cutting edge fashion bloggers and make-or-break magazine editors, in your Jimmy Choo shoes and Alexander McQueen jackets, falling for a flashy logo and a well-written infosheet. And thanks to Zeeman for piercing their bubble, even only for a little bit.

Now next year, put some plus-size models on that catwalk as well, and we’ll be completely happy.