5 days of bad luck

Since my blog is called Lina Against The Universe, it’s safe to say, I receive my share of bad luck, neatly spread over 365 days, year after year. But last week, I got a little more though love than I asked for.

My colleague was back from vacay, so I sat beside her and I asked her about her holiday. While chatting I reached for my cappuccino, but instead of grabbing the handle, I knocked the full cup of steaming hot coffee over. Not only did I burn half my leg, but I also spread some hot Joe on her desk, computer and to top it off, sprayed some of it on her outfit as well. Whoops.



My day started off great with breaking one of my good glasses. I’m not a morning person and that’s the understatement of the year. I start becoming a relatively normal, functioning human after about 8 cup of coffees, a smoke and some evil looks at random people passing by. So the last thing I wanna do before 8 am, is cleaning up pieces of glass, before I step in one of them and bleed to death. Awesome.

When I looked outside my window, I noticed a serious rainstorm outside, which I had to conquer to get to work on time. Luckily the sky cleared up pretty soon, so I got on my bike to do my daily commute. But what I didn’t see was a huge puddle of water right next to me and a big truck speeding up. Before I knew it, I saw a frightening amount of rainwater comin right at me, which left my bike and me soaking wet. I looked around for the cameras and Ashton Kutcher, because that was some classic ‘You’ve been Punk’d‘ shit. Definitely not the best day of the week.



My bf is usually the one who cooks and he clearly has his reasons. I don’t really enjoy cooking, I only cook because you know, I have to eat. So this evening, I had one job and job only. I had to put the taco shells in the oven. So I’ve put the taco shells in the oven. And then I went upstairs to vacuum, I figured my only job was to put the taco’s in the oven, not to take them out again. When my bf asked if the taco’s were ready, I answered with a confident ‘No’, because the package said they had to warm up a few minutes longer. I guess I lost track of time while vacuuming, because instead of nice & crispy, the taco shells were black & totally uneatable. My bf ignored me for hours, because I’d ruined our dinner. Sorry boo!


Since I was kinda having a rough week, I only had one task for the last day of the week and that was NOT spilling coffee on myself or others, or any office supplies. Well I even failed that task within an hour. There was coffee on my shirt, my jeans and the floor. Nailed it! And the cherry on top was that I managed to ALMOST ruin my bf’s dinner again. I still had one job and one job only and that was to put the marinate powder in the bowl with the chicken. I put it in the bowl with peanut sauce instead. Luckily we were able to rescue some powder. Well, I can’t be an independent, career woman / freelance actress, part time writer AND kitchen princess all at once right? But dinner was saved, hooray!

I stayed indoors for the rest of the weekend, it’s just safer for me, for food and coffee and basically for the rest of the world. I’m ready for my week without rainclouds now, Universe!

Stay safe!





The girl with the evil cough

It started a long time ago, that uneasy feeling, like something’s gonna happen, you just don’t know when. It’s lurking around the corner, an unstoppable force. I’m not talking about global warming, no, I’m talking about my seasonal, horrible, inevitable cough. That’s right, a cough. But it’s not an innocent little tickle, no, my cough is pure evil!



Whenever I catch a cold, not only do I get the usual runny nose and voice like The Nanny, I also receive this cough from hell, for free. I sound like a  dozen seals on crack and sometimes I cough so hard, my ribs actually bruise and occasionally I also throw up. It gets so bad that during that time, I’m even afraid to leave the house, because I’m terrified I’ll have one of my Satanic cough attacks in public and people will think I’m actually dying or something.

Of course I’ve had doctors and hospitals run all tests possible to examine this weird syndrome, but nothing to be found. I was even on heavy medication for a while, those kill or cure kind of remedies, but nothing seems to tame this stupid, demonic cough. So if you can relate to my story, I have some cheer-you-uppers for handling this tribulation listed for you below.

4 Barking Like A Dog Benefits

– You’ll always have a seating available on the subway, because no one wants to sit next to a barking whale for 30 minutes straight.



-Work will call you to stay at home, you don’t even have to call them. Your boss and coworkers don’t want to catch whatever weird disease you have going on. So now you can cough your lungs out in the comfy environment of your own house, watching Netflix all day. Hooray!

-You can drink as much tea with honey as you please, f*ck your no-sugar-diet, you need that sugar, sugar is your friend now! Also you can take as many hot baths as you want, because steam is good for attacking that cough. So steam away. Don’t look at this inconvenience as the enemy, but as some quality you time!

-You can play your music as loud as you like, your neighbors probably prefer listening to Beyoncé over you barking like a stray dog, right?


So, if you’re suffering from the same weird cough as I’m right now, I hope I’ve made you smile a little, if not take your mind of it for a moment. And if you any pointers for battling this thing, please don’t be a stranger! 🙂

Stay healthy!



5 ways to get into the Beyoncé concert

It’s 8.30 pm, exactly 24 hours after Queen Bee landed her Bee-wings on Dutch grounds to enlighten us Dutchies with her angelic voice, powerful dance moves and almost godlike presence. And with us Dutchies, I mean us Dutchies who had concert tickets. Obviously I failed to get my hands on one of those puppies. Within an half hour or even sooner, every single ticket for Miss Yoncé was sold out and I was simply too late. I’ve been a Beyoncé fan since Destiny’s Child’s first single ‘No no no’ came out, but I never felt the urge of going to one of her concerts. But when she dropped the powerful ‘Formation’ and then the shockingly honest and utterly beautiful ‘Lemonade’, I got a sudden rush to see her live.



So I tried not to think about her concert for 5 months, until a few weeks ago. I did what any girl in need for some Yoncéness would do, I asked (begged) about anyone to go with me, because there were still some 2nd hand tickets left. Unfortunately my friends thought the tickets were too expensive, weren’t interested or were already going. When the concert date arrived, yesterday, I almost got a stroke for not having a ticket. I almost cried and begged my bf to pretty please take me to the Beyoncé concert. When he finally caved, it was already too late, the ticket prices were going through the roof and the seats were getting shittier by the minute. That’s when I decided to stop wining, poured myself a glass of wine, blasted the stereo with the whole Beyoncé discography and had an awesome pity (dance) party.


So to all my fellow Yoncé fans without lucky tickets, here’s 5 ways to get into the NEXT Beyoncé concert!

1. Lift some heavy stereo equipment, dress in black and put on some attitude. When you act like you’re part of Bee’s entourage, the real entourage just might believe you, because she has like a whole army of people around her, they don’t even know everyone in their squad. You just might be lucky enough to hold her sweaty microphone or one of her many weaves. Best night ever!

2. Buy yourself some GOOD HAIR and tell the security guards you’re Becky and that something’s about the go down tonight. Chances are the guards will guide you straight to Queen Bee, so you 2 can sit down and have a good talk. Bigger chances are, the guards will call the cops on your ass and you’ll be arrested right away.

3. Buy yourself a big tent, a sleepingbag and enough food. Put your Beyoncé playlist and matching outfit on and camp out (hide) in the stadium weeks before the concert begins. If the stadium is big enough, no one will find you and when the actual concert begins, you’ll have a comfy tent around you AND front row private seats. Happy camping!

4. Get a job at the stadium or concert hall where Miss Bee will be having her show. Sure you’ll be serving people food and drinks, while Yoncé is singing and dancing her ass off. But when there are no customers, you can totally sneak in the stadium and you’ll be at the Beyoncé concert for free. Hooray!

5. And most importantly and I can’t stress this enough: Buy your Queen Bee tickets ON TIME! Give your your Ipad to your little brother, your laptop to your father, gather everyone in the computer room at school, better yet, get all your Facebook/Instagram/Snapchat friends to log in to their computers and get those damn tickets when the ticketsale starts!

And when all the above fails, there’s always a next Beyoncé concert around the corner!






When in Madrid…

Hola! Bien con usted? As I’m sitting behind my desk, sippin on some vino, watching over the dark blue water and looking at the grey sky, I must say my view isn’t bad. But last week I had an even better view for 4 days, as I was watching over the beautiful city of Madrid from the rooftop terrace (including swimmingpool!) of my trendy, boutique hotel. Blue skies, pretty sunsets and the view of a massive city with authentic, picturesque streets curling up the slightly hilly capital of Spain.



But I wouldn’t be writing a story about Madrid, if everything went as planned, my blog is called Lina Against The Universe for a reason…

Finding a cute and local tapas bar in the heart of Spain, shouldn’t be a problem one would think, but in my bf’s and my search for one, we kinda lost our way. (literally) A nice American couple we met at the pool, told us to take the subway to get to a local, cute plaza (town square) where there would be loads of tapas bars. So we got off at the stop and walked around for a while, but no plaza in sight. We decided to walk some more and ended up at the exact same street that our hotel was situated, so we had been walking around in circles. We never found the plaza that day, or any other day during our trip, but we did find a great tapas place  with awesome food, which we even went back for the next day.



The next day we wanted to celebrate my bf’s bday, local style in a cool, stylish club. (this trip was actually my surprise bday present for him). After some party research, we decided to make an appearance at Teatro Kapital, apparently the best place for some serious fiesta. With 7 floors and different music styles on each one, this was the place to be after the sun goes down in Madrid. We pulled up in a cab, all dressed up and ready to get lit. The security guard at our hotel told us to drop an important PR guy’s name that used to be his basketball buddy, so we did and we skipped the insanely long line.

We felt like Kimye, but not for long. When the man at the door told us the entrance fee was 50 euro (?!), I said you mean 15 right? He said nah, five zero. I asked him: ‘so the drinks must be for free all night then?’, he answered with an annoying voice: ‘just 1 drink’. I turned to my bf and just laughed, that shit is cray! Aint no way in hell I’m paying f*ckin 50 euro for a club. And if I ever do, I expect waiters looking like Abercrombie models, serving Moët in gold bottles and massaging my damn feet all night.



Lot’s of fellow dissapointed partypeeps were standing outside, contemplating whether to pay the 50 or bounce. I started talking to a group of cool, local looking peeps, they were trying to register for the club online, to get a discount code. Luckily they were so kind to share their discount codes with us, so we joined our newly found friends and walked up to the bouncer again. He now told us the discount code was only valid for the first 300 people going in. Wait whut? We found out later that the club just made up prices as they go, depending on which day and hour it was, asking 15 euro for locals and 50 for tourists. What a tourist trap! Our new friends were only half local, Americans studying Spanish abroad, so even they didn’t get in.

We decided to ditch this lame ass ‘hotspot’ and went barhopping by ourselves. That night I learned my bf how to dance salsa and bachata (well kinda) in a small, fun salsa joint  and did some bumpin & grindin in a local club with some good R&B/hiphop music. We eventually had a great night out and didn’t get to our hotelroom until dawn.

Lesson learned when in Madrid: skip the massive clubs and join the locals, they know where the party (and the Bacardi) is at!




4 things unlucky people should know

As an unlucky girl, there are certain things I can’t stop from happening, I can try to avoid them with all my heart, but they happen anyway. To name a few, I always get shit on…by birds! Lucky me, I have a big, curly hairdo and that’s a great advance in the acting bizz, but it also appears to attract a lot of birdshit. I guess they think I’m wearing an attractive birdnest on my head. Let me tell you, it’s quite hard to remove sticky, smelly, gross birdpoo out of fuzzy curls. I also break a lot of shit, mostly glass or mirrors. And most of the time fancy glasses that I’ve just bought, not the old, raggedy ones that I wish broke sometime, no, they seem to survive everything and everyone, even me.



But I’ve heard getting shit on by birds and breaking glass brings goodluck, so I guess I’m in for a lifetime full of happiness and joy, still waiting for that though…Universe hello, can you hear me?

So below I have written a little ‘how to’ for fellow unlucky girls and boys, like myself. To make our down on luck lives a little bit easier and happier.

1.  Break as much glass as you possibly can, but make sure it’s an uncolored or clear glass and it’s not a mirror. If you’re drinking wine, make a toast and smash that sucker into the fireplace (if you have one) or else just drop it. According to ancient superstition, this will bring you a bunch of goodluck. I suggest ‘glass breaking parties’, where everyone brings their own glass to give a toast and break it 5 minutes later. I really see some marketing opportunities here.



2.  In follow up to the above, never break a mirror. This means 7 years of badluck and you will now have to go to the mall to see how you look in chino pants. If you in fact already broke a mirror, don’t throw away the pieces. You can either grind the pieces to dust and throw them out the window, or keep one piece and wait until the next full moon. Use the piece to reflect the moon and gaze deep into the mirror, according to many cultures, your badluck should be gone with the wind.

3.  Find a place with as many birds as possible, like the beach where most seagulls are flapping around, or a big city center with a lot of disgusting pigeons. Walk around for an hour or two, try to locate your head precisely under a birds ass and wish for the best. Being shit on by a bird is considered goodluck, because the odds of that happening, are one in a billion, which is likely as rare as winning the lottery.  So if you’re able to get a bird to doodoo on you, chances are you should definitely be able to win the lottery.

4.  Never walk underneath a ladder. This superstition is commonly known, it’s considered blasphemy, because the triangularly shape of the ladder signifies the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. And more logical, you could accidentally hit the ladder and the person on it could break his leg. If you decide to live on the wild side and already walked underneath like a thousand ladders, the next time you do this, walk back through the ladder and cross your fingers until you see a dog. Your luck will change immediately. Also dogs are fun.



Get and stay lucky my luckless pals!



Where the party at now?

If you remember my last post, it was about the partylife at the tropical island of Curacao. It was a real challenge to find the right and only party at Dushi Korsou, as you can remember there is only one party going on at night and you have to do some serious FBI work to find the exact location.

Night out 4
As we finally got the hang of the party vibe at Curacao, we wanted to do some fancy dining & clubbing at jetset club Cabana Beach. We decided to live on the edge a little and not reserve a table. Because after all, we were on an island and we wanted to just go with the Caribbean flow, right? FAIL! When we arrived in our cutest cocktail dresses, the place was packed and there was a line to even get in.



After some serious ass kissing, the manager showed us to a lounge table, where we would have about an hour to eat and leave, before the people who actually did reserve a table popped up. Mission accomplished, so we sat our fancy bottoms down for some serious fancy food. But after 5 minutes a pretty rude waitress showed up and told us we couldn’t sit there, because the area was for lounging purposes only. Wait what? So we got moved to another table, in what was apparently the dining area and got seated on a couch with all three of us in a row, ‘cosy’ between other people.



We were already kinda bumbed and the horrible attitude of the staff kinda crushed our happy island moods. Oh well, pretty soon the food arrived and we could finally eat! They only forgot to mention that my enchiladas came unprepared and unwrapped, so I sat there with a boiling hot do-it-yourself-dish on my lab and I almost burned my hands on the saucepan. At least I managed to not spill guacamole and salsadip all over my white cocktail dress. Nailed that one! Thank god the real party started after dinner and Cabana Beach transformed into a cool nightclub with live music and lot’s of Prosecco bottles to pop. It turned out to be a pretty awesome night after all.

Night out 5
On one of our last nights on the island, my friends and I went to check out this trendy restaurant at a beach club called Papagayo, we wanted to say goodbye to Dushi Korsou in style of course. The restaurant was located at a beautiful resort with a view on palmtrees and a swimming pool. Those were also the only things to look at, considering we were the only guests there. Apparently there were two Papagayo restaurants, one on the resort side and one on the beach side, which was the local hotspot.

We managed to reserve a table now, because we learned from previous experiences, but of course we reserved a table at the WRONG side of the resort. Gosh! Curacao just wouldn’t let us catch a break. The dinner was lovely though, but it costed us a fortune. We accidentally chose the most expensive dish on the menu and forgot to look at the price, as part of our new found island way of living, bad idea! At least the food, ambiance and waiters were nice.



So what have we learned from my Dushi Korsou adventure? Even though Curacao is a laid back, tropical island, you still need to reserve a table, check the local party guide and have an accurate GPS on your phone to see where you need to be exactly.

Bon Bini Curacao!



Where the party at?

Last year I spent my vacation on the breathtaking beaches and between the tropical palm tree leafs of Curacao. But of course my friends and I wanted to do more than just do some tanning, snorkeling and sippin on pretty cocktails, we also wanted to party!

Night out 1
After a 10 hour flight, we landed on tropical Dushi Korsou. It was still afternoon, so we had plenty of time to get ready and see what the night would bring us. By night time, we were so tired from the major jetlag, that we only just made it to downtown Willemstad for some delicious, local food. We couldn’t decide on our food mood, so we did the most horrible thing a Dutchie can do when abroad. We ate Dutch food at a Dutch restaurant in Curacao, *insert shame*. We were already half asleep during the first course, so this night would definitely not go down as ‘best night evah’.



Night out 2
So on our 2nd night on this beautiful island, we got dolled up and were ready to paint the town. We heard about the legendary parties at Mambo Beach , so our party heels headed out to beach ball.

When we got there, we didn’t hear any Caribbean music, the spotlights were off and the only sound we heard was cutlery being used by tourists eating in shady restaurants. Mambo beach looked dark, deserted and dead. This was supposed to be THE hotspot of Curacao, so what happened? Did we visit the island during off season? Did we got the date mixed up or maybe all the locals turned up really early and called it a night already? We were hungry, so we decided to grab some (really spicy) Indian food and some Shisha to get our own party started. But the party never started, we were all still so jetlagged and tired, that the only festive thing to do was to get a ride back to our hotel.



Night out 3
On our 3rd night out, we finally got it! At the happy island of Curacao, there is always only ONE party going on, at a different location. And if you don’t know where it is, the only party you’ll be having is binging the minibar of your hotelroom. Now we happened to get our hands on a local party guide newspaper, so now we were more than prepared to do some serious partying. Guarded in red lipstick, cocktail dresses and flipflops, we headed out to Mambo Beach again and could already see the lights and hear some serious R&B from the boulevard. Nailed it! The beach had morphed into a full on club and was totally lit! We danced between the palms with our toes in the sand. Night 3 was a succes!



Now that we had our party paper, we were unstoppable and planned some serious new beach parties, but that’s another story…

Stay tuned for more Curacao adventures next week!