Mount Marta

Yup, it is what is says!

"...Kiddies, you see that mountain just to our left-right-left-right-left? Well, that is Mount Hekla and it is my mountain. You see, when I was baby, this mountain was called 'three-thousand-pair-of-fishskin-boot-if-you-are-stupid-mountain' but after a rally of complaints from the Icelandic English comitee, we decided on a nice, ethnic Icelandic name of Mt Hekla. Anyways, I was born near that mountain, and since then, I was written four petitions to Icelandlic Government, claiming its ownership. The nice man that I am friends with, you know, the Pressiddent, well, he smile and say 'OK Marta, I vill let you have the mountain'..."

"...So now, this is my mountain. I own it and not one of you do. All fffffffotographs must be given to me and not you. I own the photographhhhhh thereby owning you, HA!..."

"...So anyway, Mt Hekla is the largest, uh, mountain in Iceland, as is Mt Lekla, Mt Tekla and Mt Gekko, all of which are to your left-right-left-right-left-right up! Do not confuse them kiddies. No matter what the rest of the world says, I am right. They are all separate mountains. And recently a study by Crazy Pyschos monthly, published results the same as mine. You see, I knew it all along. Not you. ME! I KNEW IT WAS!!!!!!!!"

Yup, we all believe her too. If you happen to read Crazy Pyscho monthly [which I don't, I just, errr, happened to, errrrr, pick it up whilst... errr... you know... errrrr... accidently finding it in my room] you'll notice that the chief editor and only columnist is 'Marta Marta'smum'sdottir'. Yet I still don't find that odd... [I do need some help. HELP]

Hiya!

"...Hello kiddies! I have learned how to access that thing that you
stupid English kiddies know as the inferno-net and have managed to bully Fan #1
and Fan #2 into letting me post. In fact, I stole their access code thingy and
have used this opportunity to reek havok before they change it!..."

"...Over the last few weeks, you vile, disgusting kiddies have abused
your authority over me! All I wanted to do was
errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ...
errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr... learn your language,
which I now speak errrrrrrrr... fluentish. So, I want you to do the same. The
name Marta must be pronounced with as much of a guttaral 'khghkhgh' as possible.
So, we actually say 'Markhghtaaaaaa' when referring to me. It also sounds
suspiscously like Mad Troll, which is actually the results of my surname
'Madtrolls'dottir'. Yes, I knew you knew that too..."

"Alzo, I must add that you kiddies have a, errrrrr, special surprise
today. I habve remembered to bring with me that pair of Fishskin boots which
almost led to our deaths on a previous occasion. [she reaches into her pocket
and pulls out a pair of tiny, 4cm long, fishskin boots] [we all gasp in
amazement and are all thinking exactly the same thing]..."

Suddenly, everyone on the coach is thinking - "Its not a wonder that it took them about 400 pairs to cross a mountain when they're that small!!!!!!!!!"

Ha! What a weirdo

Global Warming, Kiddies!!!

"...Now kiddies, global warming is bad..."

Yup, Fan #1 and I know for a fact that global warming is not good. So, we remembered a little spiel that Marta went off on about something to do with Global Warming!

"...Now kiddies, I want you to listen for a moment. In Iceland, we care
very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very,
very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very,
very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very,
very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very,
very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very much. We
have puffins in this country and we care for them. But now, the puffins do not
come here. The fact that we hunted them ruthlessly is nothing to do with it. It
is the fault of you and your stupid fat America. I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW
(Copyright Kelis :)...

"...So anyway, I would like to say how dissappointed I am in all of
you. Driving around in a minibus all day is no way to make a living. For shame
on you all...

"...Oooooh look, there is a puffin. Despite of what I just said, there
is another and another and another and another and another and another and
another and another and another and another and another and another and another
and another and another and another and another and another and another and
another and another and another and another and another and another and another
and another and another and another and another and another and another and
another and another and another and another and another and another and another
and another and another and another and another and another and another and
another and another and another and another and another and another and another
and another and another and another and another and another and another and
another and another and another and another and another and another and another
and another and another and another and another and another and another and
another and another and another and another and another and another kiddies!
Millions of them! I change my mind. Global warming is good. Mwahahahaha.
[cough-cough]...

"...But of course kiddies, there is a message for you all to take from
my stupid little rant. The message is simple - whilst on holiday in a
foreign country, never accept help from any small, mad trolls in red
anoraks..."

Frere Jacques...

Now were are going to officially document the single-most embarrassing thing that Marta ever did to us. I mean, she did some really, really embarrassing things but this easily flew to the top of the lids. To set the scene, we were all sitting down for dinner in our 4-star Hotel when suddenly, a short woman with curly brown hair wearing a red anorak stands up and takes centre stage...

"...Uh, kiddies, I have just received a message from Valhallah (they're
on speedial). When I returned from my [drug] trip, they told me, Marta, the next
time you are in a large crowd with all of your kiddies whilst they eat in a
4star hotel, get them to sing Frere Jacques. I thought to myself; you know, I
won't just get the kiddies to do it, I'll embarrass the other people in the
hotel to do it too.

"So, I want you now to all start singing Frere Jacques [please note
that at this point, everyone in the room was silent and listening with fear to
Marta, in a similar way to the silence received by the President of the US
having admitted that his country did wrongfully invade ****]. If you don't start
singing kiddies, I will eat your flesh. SING DAMMIT!"

[The room is filled with a rather feeble chorus of weak voices singing
Frere Jacques. Next Marta turns to her fellow Icelanders and encourages them to
join in. The majority look crestfallen [that's nothing compared to us], but
reluctantly begin to sing whatever it is the Icelanders call Frere
Jacques].

"Good kiddies... I have just filmed you all and I will keep it for my
future. The same goes for you adults. MWAHAHAHAHAHA... [cough, cough,
cough-cough-cough, sorry I have an awful cold. COUGH]. I will now embarrass you
all further by playing it back to you, featuring close ups of everyone's faces
and...

[Acutally no, THANK GOD, she didn't film it (or at least I don't think
she did) and she definitely didn't make us hear the awful attempt again. The
applause from us all at the end was louder than the singing and every single one
of us now knew that if we came into Rejkjavic the next day and came across any
of these people, we'd be shot evil cruel glares for having brought Marta near
them... I know I know, she was onr Icelander in a million but still, I now fear
short people in red coats. It's like trauma. Wah...]

*Please note. On our trip, we all actually were forced to sing Frere Jacques in the Hotel Dining room with some poor Icelandic holiday goers. We apologize to said holiday goers and would like to make it crystal clear that it actually did happen and we're not just making this up. HONEST*

Hello

Hello to anyone reading. If anyone is reading... But then again, how could I be saying hello if there was no-one there to greet, therefore I'd be greeting the space-time continium, inviting Doomsday and - QUICK RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ITS THE APOSTLES DURING THE APOCOLYPSE! ARGH. And there's Marta. Ha. Would you look at that...

"...Kiddies, here and now, at the end of the world, I must confess my multitude
of sins. You see, I have never been, nor will I now have chance to be, a
tourguide. You see, in Icelandic, NST is the National pSychopath Trust. So, when
they hired me from NST, I was first to volunteer. You know, we Psychos are good
at being crazy. It is all we can do...

"...that red coat, for example. I
never take it off because beneath it, it is a straight-jacket. Ha. I'm so crazy.
Even Thor told me so. When I went out of the coach to check up on all of the
kiddies in Valhallah, he said to me Marta, you are very crazy woman. You on
serious drug."

[That was my suspscion at any rate...]

"...I'd
really like to imagine, that I, kiddies, am a troll. That's what my name means.
Originally, it was Mad-Troll, shortened to Magdroll, eventually to Marta. You
see, the time-line makes a lot of sense. Just like me. If I no make sense,
trolls will rule the world, along with the Irish. I am Irish you know kiddies,
just like you... Mwahahahahahahaha...."

I wonder (Number 2)

I wonder if Marta has the capabilities to ever read this blog. I mean, seriously, would she be able to find it because I for one am a little uncertain. I doubt that she owns a computer, as do I doubt that she has ever used a computer. However, a member of her family may have used one. But then again... Nah, not important. What is important is archiving the stupid things that she did and said. Now, we're going to delve into some smaller stories...

"...Kiddies, I vant to tell you how I went to Valhallah. [Multiple groans
from the rest of the travellers] [Some pipes up 'Marta, what's that Mountain to
our right-left-right-left-right-left-right-left?]...

"...Uh, I do believe that it is
Ten-shoe-to-cross-this-mountain-if-they're-amde-of-fishskin-Mountain kiddies!
You know why it is called
Ten-shoe-to-cross-this-mountain-if-they're-amde-of-fishskin-Mountain? It is
because in Iceland, during the Great Cow shortage of '88 [1788 that is], we had
to rely on something over than cow-skin for our shoes. So, we resorted to the
best next thing - cheap and very smelly fishskin. Whislt crossing the mountain,
the shoes began to rot and as a result, needed changing. On this particular
mountain, we had to change our shoes ten times!!! TEN TIMES KIDDIES! HOW
RIDICULOUS, no...?"

"...Well, I always carry a piar of fishskin boots around with me. I have
them because if I don't, the Gods of Valhallah may eat me alive. Particularly
Thor. He wasn't too fond of me because I played with his goat and drank all of
its ale, so that there was none left for me. [hiccups drunkenly]. So kiddies, my
fishskin boots are... Goddamnit! I don't have them with me..."

[Suddenly, our tourbus is halted on the road. Marta, being the number one
Source on all things ICelandic pole vaults from the bus and runs over to the
problem. The tourbus in front of us has been stricken by a suspisciously large,
metal lightning bolt. Hmm... Marta insisted on helping clear the wreckage and
when she began to try to lift the thunderbolt away, the IRAC [Iceland RAC]
people dismissed her as a loon and left her be. We felt the same way...]

So there you have it folks. The story of why Marta always had a pair of fishskin boots but not on the day she mentioned them. Good thing the Icelandic Gods were a bit tipsy on goat ale or who knows, we may never have been able to present this delightfully stupid blog to you all!!!