So... about Paris.

Last weekend I spent time in Paris as I mentioned in my earlier update. As it's physically impossible for me to travel even to the bathroom without some kind of fuck-up I thought I'd share what went wrong. It began around noon on wednesday, the day of departure. One of my fellow traveller has a girlfriend (Siobhan) who most graciously had accepted to give 4 lazy and whiny bastards a ride to the airport. Technically at least one of those sad souls had some kind of leverage as he was in position to withhold schtupping(Kenny). How the rest of us got a ride I will never know. (Well yes I do know. Because Siobhan is nice and awesome).

I had chosen the place for the pickup strategically at a spot right around the corner from one of the vehically impaired(Simon), to which I could get with not too much of a hassle and with no consideration at all for the last free-loader(Samuel), because I'm a bastard. The two love birds were already inside the car so they got no saying in where the pickup should be either. Which when I think of it seems a little odd since they are after all the ones picking US up. Yeah well fuck logic, I got to decide.

As I stepped off the bus I got a phone call from Simon which after confused introductions amounted to

'Why are you not here?'

'I'm here all right, just not exactly where you happen to be'

'Yeah, well we're on the EAST side of the freeway because it's the ONLY place a car can stop'

'OKOK, I'll be there in a moment'

The pickup spot was on a bridge over the freeway and I had a distinct recollection that there was a parking slot about midway across the bridge but Simon sounded pretty certain. I didn't want to argue the point and then end up being wrong looking like a complete fool for trying to prove to someone that 'reality is wrong, reject and insert my version instead'.

I was greeted by Simon and his girlfriend Johanna, who is cool enough to not get her name in brackets. And we sat down discussing for a while. After a non-zero amount of time Kenny called me and asked where we were.

'We're on the east side of the road because here's the only place that you can park a car'

'How abouts this nice and dandy parking slot halfway across?'

'Simon, you're a retard.'

After throwing our bags in the trunk I moved to take my seat as shotgun. Oddly enough it was already occupied by the Kenster. I'm 6'7 and 308 pounds, Kenny is one hearty slap on the shoulder from dwarfism. Anyone with a slight sense for logistics would realize that shotgun should be me. I tried to argue my point by explaining that the net comfort in the car would be maximized if I sat in the front seat but Kenny was as unwavering as New Zealand bedrock.

We of course spent the entire trip to the airport complaining.

The flight went smoothly and we even picked up another fellow traveler along the way (Bertil).

I think flights are more or less the only thing that ever goes smoothly on my trips. Thinking that I'm traveling with Kenny who's Captain OCD, I assumed that we wouldn't have a problem finding our way around Paris and, most importantly, to the hotel. This time, however, Kenny had all of a sudden decided to take a more laid back approach to travelling. 'I have no idea' was not an answer I expected. I looked all over for ventriloquists, but I had to face the fact that I was in enemy territory without map, radar, GPS, a sense of direction, a polar star to fly by or competent allies.

Having anticipated that I might loose Kenny somewhere along the way, I had done SOME (capitals for emphasis) recon up front. The hotel offered a shuttle from CDG airport, but that sounded expensive so I didn't consider that a plan A when I was laying out the strategy, but it would serve as a contingency for the moment. This shuttle was obviously a figment of someones most vivid imagination, misinformation planted on us by enemy agents or an attempt to boost the hotel rating on the booking site.

I had also contacted 'our man on the inside' upfront to inquire about any suitable means of travel. In this movie this role is played (pretty badly) by Andreas, who had been vacationing in Paris for a couple of days already with his girlfriend.

'There's a train going from the airport, get off at Gare d' something something and then get lucky in the Metro'.

'Thanks buddy, now please drown in your own vomit!'

My handsome and firm behind was saved by Samuel who had up until now mostly served as a comic relief. Seems like a scraggly 'goggle maps'-printout and a bit of french was all that he needed to turn a desperate situation into a decisive victory.

On the third day the four inhabitants in our room had split up. Not a bad idea per se, but for the fact that we had just one key. A key-key you know the good old fashioned kind that's a lump of metal attached to a larger lump of metal so that the former lump of metal won't get lost. Key cards are obviously for the weak and simpleminded. This key we'd leave at the front desk whenever we left the hotel and then whoever got back first got the key back. This way the key could theoretically only be in two places, either in our room or at the front desk. No problem, right? Cue Simon 'the fuck-uper of perfectly normal situations' Englund.

Simon had taken out the key from the front desk to let himself in, taking the key with him into the hotel room, and promptly fallen asleep. Now this wouldn't be a problem but for the fact that Simon is close to unwakeable by earthly means. As in that Charlie Sheen is close to having an addiction problem. He slept through first 15 minutes of knocking by one of the other inhabitants in the room and then 15 minutes of my knocking.

Eventually I somewhat embarassingly made my way down to the front desk to ask for a spare key. It's something programmed in our Swedish genes, we hate to be a bother. We don't want to cause anyone extra work. But what had to be done had to be done. I want to sleep in the bed that I paid for damnit. No Sleeping beauty would take that from me, no matter how much I have to bother the clerk at the front desk.

'Ehh, do you perhaps have a spare key to our room, maybe, if it's not too much trouble, kind sir, please?'

'No, I already gave the key to your friend. He's upstairs'

'Yes I know he's upstairs the problem is he seems to have fallen asleep with the key in the room'

'Maybe you can knock?'

'GEE! Why didn't I think of that? Knocking!!' I didn't say to him, instead opting for the slightly more diplomatic. 'I've already knocked for 15 minutes', showing my knuckles, hoping that some kind of blemish would materialize to underline how much I had knocked. There was a slight pause and I thought I'd liven up the awkward situation a little with 'I've ran out of knock'

The clerk looked very confused at me and didn't find my witticism at all funny.

'Ran out of knock?'

'Never mind, just give me the spare so I can let myself in and proceed to beat my friend bug-eyed.'

'Bug-ey....'

'KEY!!!'

Eventually we came to an understanding and he was very helpful when the language barriers had been cleared away. He presented me with a key chain roughly the size of Coventry. Of course these keys were unmarked so not unsavory individuals could loot out the entire hotel if they got a hold of the keys. After about another 25 minutes of trying keys I found the right one and proceeded to lay down the smack on Simon. Johanna, if you ever wonder why Simon has a knuckle-shaped impression on his right thigh...

It's the unexpected things in life that makes it worth living. In retrospect you almost always have more fun when things don't go as planned. The rest of the trip was however very enjoyable even though there was very little in the way of unplanned events.

This will be all for now.

Every rose has its thorn.
Alone on Valentine's day again, Poisons old smash hit on repeat, stuffing my face full various light food and mineral water.
Still with the same smile, though, knowing this year more than ever before that there's someone out there for me as well.
I intend to go out and find you and when I do, it will be nothing like those romantic movies. I will come to you when you need me the most or when you don't need me at all. I'll come to you looking my finest and I'll come to you looking like I just rolled out of bed. I'll come to you with flowers and I'll come to you just to watch you smile. I'll make promises I can't keep and I'll swear you oathes that I can never break. Because life doesn't serve us Foie gras on silver plate every day but that doesn't mean that it won't taste as good when it does.
To all you couples out there. I hope you have a nice evening, I hope you share something memorable. Perhaps it's time to break out that bottle of wine you were saving for 'a special occasion', those lingerie that you only put on on really special nights or maybe it's just being close to the one you love, smelling him/her. Don't waste a perfect opportunity to make your day special.
To all you people out there saying that Valentine's day is just a commercial jippo, well a hearty 'Fuck you'. It's what you make of it, it's an excuse to do things you've never tried with your lover, maybe you'll find a new favorite restaurant, get to see that movie that you've both been wanting to see but putting off or maybe feel your heart flutter for just an instant when he/she says 'Darling, there's not a day that goes by when I'm not grateful for waking up next to you'
I was in Paris during the weekend and got a taste of what will come to us in late april. I was drinking cheap wine in the spring sun. I was drinking champagne in the shadow of the Arc de Triomphe. I was playing cards and hanging with friends. How come noone told me up until now that all the french girls are pretty? It's like going out back home, but with less blondes.
For you all that stayed at home. Guys? 'The fuck? I leave the country for five days, everything looking fine and dandy, a steady melting going on, no crises of any kind and what do I get back to? Buttfuck degrees below zero and re-elections. Jeez, you're all out of the rotation for my next visit abroad.
This will be all for now... and remember to hug someone you like!

Fate, co-workers and me (the unexpected sequel)

Or... what the fuck did I do this time? (that's an alternate title for all you illiterates out there)

Last week I got back to work after a long sick-leave. I had flu. So on wednesday my co-worker arrives in a bad mood, looking like something the cat didn't want to drag in.

'I'm sick but I have tons of work to do' was his excuse.

'Yeah well if I catch whatever you're having, I'm gonna throw heavy and hard objects at you. If you nose-block me, I'll motherfucking kill you'

He was very sneaky though, because the first of my symptoms didn't show until the weekend. Saturday morning to be precise. Fever and a runny nose and a sore throat. Needless to say the weekend was spent in a state vaguely reminiscent of 'Gossip girl', ie pure unadulterated anus.

Things I learned during the weekend:

Nothing rhymes with orange.

The homepage where one can read famous last words in RPGs is still up.

People don't update their statuses often enough on facebook during the weekends.

Slight aside:

I want to make love wild and raunchy love to Helena Ekholm and her sister Jenny Jonsson*. They have fabulous bodies, that they apparently don't mind putting into unreasonably tight suits. They have wicked stamina. They have long blonde hair, that I'm sure that they don't mind putting up in ponytails. Yes, really. Ponytails, really. And they shoot rifles! Understand that these girls hit things roughly the size of my areolas** from 50 metres away. If either of you read this... give me a call. Post in the comments if you need my number.

End aside.

Sunday, hell continued but I managed to watch a movie that I got recommended to me called 'What dreams may come'. I was warned that it was a bit bittersweet. Yeah... I watched a sentimental movie, with my nose clogged and slightly feverish. I thought I could handle it. I could not. It was waterworks all the way. By the end there were tears in exactly every part of my appartment. Better call the landlord to check for water damages.

Monday morning I decided to go to work again. 'Quid pro quo, fucker'. My sly invertebrate of a colleague had next-leveled me though. As I start picking up bottles for flinging excercises he admits. 'I was home at two of my friends yesterday and played with their 1-year old for almost 5-hours straight. This morning the father called to tell me that she had been puking and had diarrhea all night'

I was baffled, dumbstruck and at a loss for words. Proper responses would of course have been any of the following:

"Have you started doing drugs? Because to me it sounded awfully lot like 'I'm most likely contagious again and any long-term contact with me by say sharing a small office for an entire workday will result in the catching of said pathogen'. And I just don't see anyone in their right mind wanting to put themselves through the excrutiating pain that will inevitably follow my return to work."

"You need to get out of this office more than Christina Aguilera needs to learn the Star-Spangled banner lyrics"

But I resigned with a 'Well played'

As the afternoon rolled around a quick check out the window confirmed that it had infact started snowing again. I checked the weather services webpage for updates about the weather. 'Oh? just a class 2-storm warning? Par for the course, I assume' I left work in good time to make it to the busstop and the bus actually arrives on time. Those following my blog will undoubtedly know that this is like being part of some great celestial event. When I get to the tram stop ( I have to take a tram and a bus to get to work) it all made sense again. The tram had broken down, it just sat there blocking the rails for any working trams that would happen to, you know, head my way. All in all... I spent the better part of the wait pondering what Karmakaze-inducing action I have performed to deserve this, then I looked down on my shirt. 'You've got to be kidding me, green with white stripes can't POSSIBLY qualify as light-coloured clothes'

Tomorrow and wednesday will be an interesting day as I'm flying to Paris on wednesday. With any luck my mucus-filled sinuses will explode so I don't have to suffer the indignity of having diarrhea and vomiting on an airplane.

Have a nice day, y'all

*They compete in biathlon, google them if you have to.

**If it's not chilly that is.