Dear Grad School You are Killing me

Its 9:07 am on a Wednesday morning, and I have been sitting in this fine lecture hall for over an hour. The seats are arranged in theatre style and made from fine scandinavian wooden craftsmanship. The seats are comfortable enough for hour one, but without doubt my broken tailbone will be pulsating with pain by hour three of this unending nightmare. It is the final presentations of the year so I should be filled with joy... but instead dread haunts my spirit. You see, my group and I have not yet been given the opportunity to perform -- yes perform if you have ever seen me speak publicly you know my hand gestures rival that of a sign language translator. Yet I know the minute we get up in front of the class, with our best effort try to relay the information we have learned, I know we are going to be ripped to shreds. This criticism has nothing to do with our abilities, simply a different teaching style than I am used to, and will never quite adapt to properly. While some may enjoy being lambasted and see it as an opportunity for improvement, I am filled with uncontrollable rage and want to kick the nearest puppy. Presentations cause undue stress, and since I am on a chocolate diet for the next three weeks (something about gaining 20 million pounds in france this weekend) there really is no cure in sight! Alas back to my online shopping so I can pretend that I am actually in a happy world of extreme commercialism surrounded by pretty packaging and delightfully indulgent goods... instead of this lecture hall of terrors!

An Ode to My new Best Friend

Dear Hemköp at Stigberstorget I love you!!!

Now some of you may think that after living in the same apartment for the past 9 months I should have a general idea of most things within... hmm I don't know atleast one block radius of my apartment. Which is why it was such a shock when a little over two weeks ago I discovered the most magical gem of all... a truly wonderful grocery store with in walking distance. Now in defense of my ignorance, said grocery store exists just west of my apartment, a direction I have never ventured on foot. You see a week before I moved into my apartment some one was shot (it wasn't fatal) in a dispute in an apartment somewhere to the west of my apartment.... several kilometers away and perchance not even in the city limits... but from that day forward I vowed to never go into the "scary" part of town aka anywhere west of the entrance to my door. However on April 28th... a very special day, one of my packages was sent to Hemköp instead of my normal post office. Oh yea side note... packages often get delivered to grocery stores here... weird... I know... explainable... not really. Well anywho upon retrieving my package I discovered a magical gem of a place. On the outside it slightly resembles what I imagine a crack den would look like, however on the inside the place opens up into a beautiful almost up to an American supersized is standard grocery store... cue the choir of angels. This place is beautiful, and when I say beautiful, when you walk in you are immediately greeted by a taxidermic Elk guarding bread (Just when you try and forget you are in Sweden they pull a stunt like that). You then are immediately greeted by the obligatory pre-made salads which consist of 90% pasta (the whole a salad is made of lettuce concept is a completely foreign to this land). Followed by the mediocre piles of mealy bruised "produce".... except at this store you get a wide wide wide variety of semi rotting vegetables to choose from (seee improvement!!!). Its the dairy section that really sets this store above and beyond... the cheese and yogurt (two staples in my diet) selection is out of this world. I didn't even know there were so many flavors or varieties of yogurt here (this is genuine enthusiasm)!!

I'm in love, I'm in love and I don't care who knows it lalalalalalalalalalalala!!

Did I mention it's open until 11.... OMG!!!

Christian's Post!

So here I am sitting in class next to my good friend Christian... and have decided to write a post in his honor. I would like for you to take the time out of your day and really pay tribute to this remarkable man(boy). I'm not sure how to begin paying compliments to this wonderful creature... but find in times of struggle... lists always work just fine.

So here's to you Christian, a list of your greatest character traits and accomplishments:

1) Your arms are almost as big as Sebastian's

2) Your intelligence is almost as great as Jenny's

3) Your style is almost good enough to be in a magazine

4) The bowl of cereal you made me one time was almost good enough to eat

5) You are almost worthy of your sambo Josefin

6) You are almost as funny as Johanna

7) You almost always pronounce China correctly

8) You almost eat as much a baby hippo

9) You almost always win at beer pong (but only when we are partners)!

10) You almost always choose movies that are better than "A Serious Man"

But in all seriousness, Christian I pay this tribute to you, because of all the people I could have been stuck (or had the pleasure) sitting next to during this 5 hour snooze fest of presentations, I would want it to be you!!

Now let's invite George Constanza, the guy that got hit by the ugly stick, and the really not cool girl to lunch at Vanilji and call it a day!!!!

Videos from Valborg... to help you visualize

Found this on youtube it's a nice aerial view of the eko park (where students drink and there is live music all day). I'm in that crowd somewhere!!!!!

And here is a video of a champagne fight... just to give you an idea

Valborg i Uppsala!

Everyone has a happiest place and time in his/her life. The place you think of when life really has you down (like maybe you are taking a course called IBEA), and you just want to think of those good ol' days. For me that place is Uppsala, Sweden. Granted I may not have been sober for the majority of my stay (6 months)... but I look back to those bleary-eyed nights in the land of the midnight sun with the highest level of fondness! Understanding that my liver and waistline were suffering the consequences of my party hardy lifestyle, I realized that while Uppsala had been a beautiful dream, it needed to remain just that and I had to part ways with the city that I love. When my final decisions for grad-school came down to choosing between Gothenburg and Uppsala, I knew the choice I had to make. Now don't get me wrong, I have loved my time in Gothenburg, but a part of my heart never really left Uppsala.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to return to my personal utopia. The celebration was for Valborg, the biggest Swedish drinking holiday for students, and Uppsala is the ONLY place to partake in the festivities. My trip got off to an interesting start when I was approached by a Jehovah's witness in the train station... and heard an interesting story about plants and weeds. In the middle of looking at an icredibly interesting picture book of bible figures, my friend Anna (my go to party/fun time girl!) approached, and while we managed to wait until the old woman who was trying to save me (I'm too far gone...) walked away before dying of laughter. The tone had been set for a hilarious weekend!

The first afternoon Anna and I drank terrible champagne mixed with sprite sitting on a hill by the pink castle. We both drank a bottle of champagne each and were worried about sobering up... honestly I don't know what we were thinking. We then headed to one of the student nations where I was soooooo excited to see cheap beer.... only four dollars a bottle!!! We shortly ran into an aussie, and started inventing a beautiful story (lying)to him about being Swedish, having made up the most beautiful back story about our country homes in Varberg... we were more than shocked when Aussie's friend shows up and it is our good friend Ben! Needless to say we were completely caught in our lie, but thankfully the guys laughed it off. At midnight it was time to head home... we were supposed to start drinking again at 8 am... this didn't quite happen *Sidenote* Anna has a video of me leading a rousing rendition of Shania Twain's hit "you're still the one" with a group of Swedish girls in the bathroom, taken some point this evening... it was a good night! And not surprisingly this is probably the 10th video of me taken in that very bathroom leading Swedish girls in song... some things never change!

The next morning Anna and I were horribly hungover, but we managed to trek in to town to get ourselves bacon burgars, fries and coke for breakfast (breakfast of champions my friends!). We then took some weird british pain medicine... and we were good to go. We headed to the huge park by the school building where I used to "study" and we proceeded to drink another two bottles of champagne a piece. At about 2 pm it was time to head to the champagne fight... champagne fights are so unbelievably fun!!!! There was a live band playing, and also a dj. They played the best music and since I was drunk I didn't care that I was covered in head to toe sticky champagne. Anna and I made many many friends, including a boy wearing blue pants that in mid conversation had a complete spaz attack and broke into dance that can only be described as epileptic. After accruing far more best friends then I could ever possibly handle, it was time to rest up for round three. Anna and I got showered, then headed out for dinner (arrival of hangover #2). During our quest to find dinner we got kidnapped by three different groups of guys, managed to lose all of them until we met this group of guys with an Irish leader. He was unbelievably funny and and could charm the loin cloth off of tarzan. The other guys in the crew were shape shifters, and every time I turned around there were either more, or less, or just different boys, then had previously been following us. Thirty minutes later we had walked all the way across town to where I used to live. YAY FLOGSTA!!!! We then had to turn around and walk back to town because we were meeting our german friend to go out. Another amazingly fun night was had at the student nations. We danced with some of the craziest people ever, keep in mind everyone had been drinking for over 12 hours at this point. At around 3:15 it was time to call it a night. Another *sidenote* We also pretended to be from Zamibia the whole night... a girl even tried speaking africaner or whatever it's called to us... luckily anna knew that in Zamibia they speak German... almost caught in another lie haha.

Uppsala once again did not disappoint and if anything my image of the town has just become rosier! My liver still hates me four days later... but the memories from one of the most fun weekends ever, greatly outweighs the pain I will inevitably face when at age 30 I have to get my first liver transplant...

Dear (ay-yah-FYAH'-plah-yer-kuh-duhl) I love you

As most of you have probably heard by now an Icelandic volcano named Eyjafjallajokul (a name which I am certain no human or extraterrestrial species from any planet can actually pronounce) is currently emitting a buttload of ash that is getting blown into the European skies, and closing down almost every major airport.

Unlike the doomsayers and debbie downers, I think this is one of the most awesome events of my life! My reasons for loving this volcano are numerous.

For starters, volcanoes make me think of dinosaurs. Which immediately makes me think of Mrs. Tornell's kindergarten class in 1991 when we had our dinosaur unit and made "Stegosaurus Salad," something that is way more awesome than a normal salad because you got to pretend to be a Stegosaurus as you ate lettuce. Our teacher also wanted to make T-Rex T-bone, but luckily it was really difficult to find a nice cut of Pterodactyl in the 90's. My favorite part of the year was when our pet bunny gave birth to baby bunnies. I would sit quietly for hours holding one of the cuddly baby bunnies and looking back I think that was the happiest time of my life. So thank you Eyjafjallajokul (or as I have taken to calling it la-la-boo-boo) for reminding me just how much I love bunny rabbits.

Eyjafjallajokul (la-la-boo-boo) also naturally makes me reflect on my own time spent in Iceland. In March of 2009, while the majority of the co-eds in America either headed to Mexico, Florida, or their parents basements for a week of debauchery. My roommates Kerry, Erica and I headed to Iceland. On our first night we were fed rotten shark, given a drink called black death, and then robbed. At the time, it was a little nerve-racking being in a foreign country, dependent only upon Whoopi Goldberg (erica) for money. In the end it turned out to be the greatest trip of our lives, because Kerry and I discovered our true calling and greatest talent in life. The two of us blossomed into full fledged professional super sleuths, and were able to track our stolen credit cards to a Lithuanian Mafia den. Granted we left Iceland without our credit cards, and the police weren't nearly as impressed with our findings as we hoped, but it was still an incredible trip and I still really like bunny rabbits.

The final, and perhaps most significant reason that Eyjafjallajokul (la-la-boo-boo) excites me, is that it is not often in life you get to experience a situation in which your life is greatly altered by a Volcano. Unless you try and go to Puerto Rico, in which case Volcanic ash is par for the course. Though to date this whole situation has in actuality had no affect on my life. I am greatly considering booking a last minute trip to a place I seriously have no desire to ever go, like Zambia. Then when my flight is canceled, I can then go around telling the story of the time I tried so desperately to go to Zambia but then Eyjafjallajokul (la-la-boo-boo) had to go get in the way and crush my dreams. My grandkids will be hearing about that one... and the bunny rabbits.

The Art of Fine Dining... Alone

I don't think there is anyone on this planet that could possibly love me, more than I already love myself. I honestly think I am the most fun, clever, witty, ingenious, and most importantly humble person I know. It is for the reasons just listed (and so many more), when given the opportunity, I never decline an invitation to dine with myself.

Now, I don't want to give the impression of being a loner, I have an incredible circle of friends that literally span every corner of the globe. Meaning that I can go literally anywhere in the world and have at least a semi close acquaintance with which to dine. I am by nature a very social person, and I do in fact crave interaction with others. I have never been able to stay at home for a whole day without going stir crazy, and am almost always signed in to: messenger, gchat and skype simultaneously. However, that being said, I feel a certain smug satisfaction in dining alone in public. It's kind of like going commando in a sense, just as a free flyer could have donned underwear that morning, I could have called a friend to join me on my lunch date, but instead I chose (and thats the imperative word) not to.

It can be tricky at times determining the best place to dine by oneself. I personally like locales that while slightly tucked away, still present prime viewing for people watching. Unlike, solo dining amateurs, I prefer to take my meals without the safety shield of a book or magazine. I like to stare the world head on and openly judge passerby-ers without distraction. Sweden is the perfect country for eating alone. Cafes present the ideal atmosphere. Warm and inviting, yet also slightly over crowded yielding them a great location for eaves-dropping. Or giggling like a school girl to yourself when a conversation sounds something like this "blah blah blah blah blah what the f&ck man blah blah blah blah" (Swedes, especially teenagers, love throwing random American expletives and phrases into daily conversation, it amuses me to no end)

However, no where in Sweden do you find more solo diners than in Vegetarian restaurants.

After thorough research, I have conducted while eating at three different vegetarian restaurants around the city, I have come up with a theory to explain the remarkable amount of solo eaters in these establishments. Just as American homosexual men in the 1980's resorted to public bathrooms in the parks of L.A. to get their fix. Swedish Vegetarians must also lead a life of secrecy. How else can you expect to be accepted in a country whose food pyramid consists of two sections: 1) meat 2) potatoes. These people (vegetarians... *shudder*) have no choice but to dine in secrecy and can under no circumstances let their friends or families know about their true orientation. The diners always look the same, slightly frightened, huddled over, trying to obscure their faces, while also keeping a look out lest anyone recognize them.

In an attempt to utilize this blog as a vehicle for change. I want to take the opportunity to tell these poor solo vegetarian eaters, there is no shame in eating alone. I can't support their decision to shun meat... seriously I can't get enough of the stuff....mmmm meatballs. However that being said, solo vegetarian diners!!! Sit up tall and proud as you consume your potatoes prepared five ways (If Sweden does one thing well, it is to stay true to its values, potatoes: Swedes, ambrosia: Greek Gods). Don't hide your face behind your sustainable energy text book, you are an interesting, enlightened person, so take the time to get to know yourself over a solo meal, you'll probably realize just how awesome you really are (though I am going to be honest, I won't ever think you are as awesome as me!!)

Pop up Video...oooo!!

You just need to watch. This Swedish video perfectly exemplifies why I am in love, yet also constantly baffled by this fine country. In case you can't understand the premise of the song, they are singing about how much they love boxed wine. Specifically the bag that comes in the box...

Don't buy no drinks at the bar... Boys with pocket squares take care of that!

On Friday night, it was my first going out night back in Göteborg and I was eager for hanging out with people under the age of 50 (Naples, FL I love you, but the under 65 set prefers to start drinking after 8:30 pm... you know the time you go to bed).

After getting a few drinks under our belt it was time to head out. Nivå was the destination of choice. I personally love the place, good music, friendly folk, and two levels of dance floors ooo ya! Happily dancing with my good friends Jenny, Sebastian (the only girl), Jessica and her two friends. I was happily in that euphoria that can only be reached when you've had one too many and "Oh my GAWD! I love this song!!" can be exclaimed every two minutes because "seriously, this place plays the best music ever!!" (insert embarrassing jazz fingers which I am so fond of).

All of the sudden Sebastian, the voice of reason, turns to me. Points to two guys who are super dressed up, and says "If I was a girl, I would talk to those guys because they look like have money and would buy me a drink." I had no choice but to try my luck. After talking for way toooooooo long, to a boy with slicked back hair and a pocket square in his sport coat pocket... which he may have taken out and dangled at one point, I deemed the drink mission a bust. Unfortunately phrases such as "I left my corporate credit card in dubai." and "Where did you board?" only make me gag. However sport coat boy and his little friend who I called "Sweater Boy" all night, became immensely attracted to Sebastian, so there was no hope of losing them. Many other new friends were also accrued (gay british man, who kept unbuttoning your shirt... stay fly!), and actual friends headed home.

The night ended, as do the majority of my nights with a taxi fiasco. Finally at around 4:30 it was time to call it a night. Even though Sport Coat and Sweater Boy invited Sebastian and me to an after party, it was time for the crazy party animals to go to bed. It had started raining so tram and walking were out of the question, leaving taxi as my only option. Yes I am weather intolerant in a bad way, I am American and thus do not like to be inconvenienced in any way... unfortunate I know.

While getting in the back seat of a taxi, a young man got in the front. We will call him Taxi Boy. When screaming "this is my taxi you will have to get out peasant!!" didn't convince the young lad, that this taxi was clearly transporting a feisty animal (the taxi driver... duh) and it was in his best interest to get out, the two of us rationally decided since we were heading in the same direction to split a cab. Well, seeing how whenever I get in awkward situations I cannot under any circumstance just shut up for five seconds, I proceeded to talk my new friend's ear off the entire ride. Oddly enough he enjoyed it, and at the end of our shared ride asked for my phone number... which perchance due to the late hour or the drinks Sport Coat finally purchased me... I could not recall. Did I mention that due to the rain my hair was plastered against my head and mascara was running down my face.

Taxi Boy be blind and caaaarazy! And so is told another anecdote, solidifying the fact that my life will never be normal.

The journey home is never too long... until the plane breaks

Those who know me well, know with certainty that I have no vices. However, if there is one (and only one) aspect of my personality that I am certain can be quite tiring, it is the frequency with which I complain about the cold.

Nothing brings me more joy than standing outside squealing and lamenting to anyone who will listen how "I am not being dramatic this is seriously the coldest I have ever been in my life!!! WAHHHH" (yes this phrase is recited on a daily basis every year between the months of November until early March). I also like to inform my companions that wherever I am currently located, is the coldest place on earth and "I should know I grew up in Wisconsin!"... then moved to Boston... then moved to Sweden... twice.

On one particularly arctic Saturday night in which the trams decided to stop working and, I slipped on an iceburg bruising the whole left side of my body, I declared to my classmates "I am not just being over dramatic I would rather die than stay out in this cold another five minutes!" and I can honestly say I meant every word. A desperate phone call home was made, and a ticket to Florida booked for early March. The only thing that kept me going through hellaciously cold month was the promise of sunshine and seeing my mommy.

Finally the day approached, I was flying out of Copenhagen and left my friend Sarah's apartment at 6 am to catch my flight (thank you sarah soo much!!!). My soul was buoyant, my spirits were high. And then grounds crew broke the plane.

Broke the plane? Oh yes, the controller of the jet way... hit the plane with such force he (I assume its a "he", because what woman would be that stupid hehehe? ) cracked the hull. Long story short, I did not make it to the US that day, but instead had to return the following day to take an extra large plane specially flown in to take two days worth of passengers.

Then that plane broke... nope I am not making this up. After sitting on the runway an extra two hours so that a mechanic could fix the pressurizer finally it was time for take off. Eventually over 24 hours after scheduled arrival I made it home!

Florida was warm, and I saw more sunlight in 10 days than I have in the past 5 months. I always love going home and seeing my family, even though my little brother now thinks he is too cool for me. Harsh and totally not true!

Now I am back to Sweden and eager to complain. The weather seems to be holding at warmer temperatures, but I think I can get major milage complaining about the rain, that has replaced the snow, for at least two or three months!

Swedish News

When you live alone in a cold Northern land, with only a stuffed sheep (no sheep jokes please... I ain't sheering Seamus with anyone) to keep you company at night, there is a lot of time for pondering life's great mysteries. Last evening while drifting in and out of sleep i began to wonder....

Research Question:

1) When you live in Sweden, one of the safest countries in the world, what exactly can the news report?

Definitions for the purpose of this study:

1) Safe: the ability to stumble home drunk and naked at 4 am without encountering harm from humans... (human being the imperative word, it's difficult for a government to prevent unwanted advances from randy raccoons)

2) News: something of public interest that is worth repeating and making available to the general public through means of television, newspaper, internet or that new fangled social media everyone keeps talking about.

Abstract:

Here are a few of the greatest headlines I came across when conducting research:

Obese drunk driver: 'I'm too fat for jail' -- Naturally this just lead me to ask the real question at hand... how much alcohol does it takes to get a 458 pound man drunk?

'Grim Reaper' threatens to castrate incontinent patient -- its cold and dark half the year... people have to come up with a way to amuse themselves somehow, and come on, everybody knows it is the classic slumber party unspoken agreement the bed wetter deserves ridicule and harassment

Jilted lover fly-posts pics of ex-boyfriend's privates-- let's just be glad she isn't the grim reaper... then again... who wants to date someone who pees himself... and we all know dating leads to babies (***Footnote "the Swedish normal course of dating": 1. sleep together 2. have mutual friend set up actual date 3. live together 4. get engaged 5. have a baby 6. get married) in which case girlfriend is totally justified... you don't want to pass on bedwetting genes to your future children. Social Darwinism triumphs again!

But don't be mistaken, Sweden like all countries has its especially dark moments (and I'm not referring to the lack of sunlight between November-March), so I feel it would be negligent to not mention that there is violent crime including shoot ups from time to time (and not just of heroine... this isn't Norway after all) fe. As proof please regard the headline below...

Icicle gunned down in eastern Sweden

I wish Icicle stood for a rapper, drug lord or really anything besides something formed from hanging dripping water that freezes... but on the plus side city workers did describe it as dangerous... that has to earn the country some street cred!

When they say Classic Dance Party... Do you think they mean retro???

This past weekend I went to Budapest. I have gained a new found respect for former Soviet Countries and will no longer describe Eastern Europe as my personal hell. Once I got over the fact that everyone looked like a murderer/ serial killer, I adjusted quite quickly to Hungarian life (Lunch at the Four Seasons for roughly $20.oo... yes please!!) My first day in Budapest it was cold, raining and Erica who was flying in from France (how that country functions is beyond me) was 8 million hours delayed so I spent it alone. The owner of our hotel Albert (I want him to be my new BFF!!) gave me a map and pointed out a walking tour and told me "don't worry even with your blond hair you won't get raped." (umm Albert, not so comforting) After getting soaked, whistled to, and stared at by every beady eyed shifty short pudgey male in the greater Budapest metropolis I decided to go to a cafe. Inside I was served a mug of melted chocolate... AMAZING! All the waiters stared at me... I maybe was drawing attention to myself with my moans of delight.

Finally Erica arrived and we went out to dinner... where we were served deep fried bread covered in melted cheese with garlic soup... Best new food I have tried in the longest time!! It was sooooooo good. We then decided to walk to a bar to get drinks... along the way I saw a sign for a "Classic Dance Party." Naturally, I became obsessed and we had to go. Apparently "Classic" in Budapest means music from the 80's and 90's with clubgoers dressed in Walmart's finest from the 80's and 90's. I have never been so happy!!

The next day was sightseeing, including a trip to the baths. The baths were amazing, you go outside and sit in a hot pool. You then overheat, step out of the pool, freeze to death, reenter pool, overheat, step outside freeze to death... you get the picture.

That night we went to dinner and then went to a crazy costume party. My friend Trevor, who I studied with at Uppsala, now goes to school in Budapest and invited us (we saw him at the party for about 30 seconds). Imagine a huge club at Halloween, except everyone not only was dressed in costume but completely transformed into character. Sitting outside the bathroom we met a Smurf from Gothenburg. Smurf and his smurfette girlfriend invited us to join their crew, and Smurf kept bringing over all of his "Tall as hell" (he was a smurf...short) Swedish and Norwegian friends for me to dance with. I would dance with the boys he brought over for five minutes before an evil hispanic looking girl dressed as a rose (every rose has its thorns....) would come up and attack them. I would then stand awkwardly dancing with myself trying to mimic the moves I had seen the night before at the Classic Dance Party (girls just wanna have fun... thumbs up!). All in all it was a pretty great night I would happily relive... as long as I had a bottle of champagne and a camera.

The next day was our final chance to sightsee. Which included a bathroom decorated in scenes (dioramas) from Disney Movies made completely out of marzipan (yes the food item). The life Size Snow White and the Seven Dwarves was particularly creepy.

All in all Budapest was the slightly strange/disturbing/yet ultimately enjoyable experience I hoped for and more.

MY Bromantic Weekend

Last Monday I spent the evening having a wonderful slumber party at Kadri's apartment. The event was all girls, and we all dressed in head to toe pink. We ate delicious food, overdosed on sweets, had a taste test of a wide variety of rose wines, watched Bride and Prejudice and played Princess Uno. Needless to say I loved every moment of it!!

Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined my life would take such a dramatic shift in less than a week. In my wildest dreams I could not have fathomed a reason why on Saturday night/Sunday morning I would wake up at 3 am. Take two different trams for a total 30 minutes travel time, scale a mountain, and finally arrive at my friend Christian's apartment to watch UFC fighting with three guys. Yet this is exactly what happened.

At around 7:30 the unbelievably bloody, yet extremely entertaining set of fights was over and I headed to bed at 8 am. Waking up at 2 pm... I could not believe I had to repeat the whole process all over again to watch the Superbowl. Airing at midnight in Sweden it was once again a late night filled with far to much testosterone. This time in the presence of girls, and the safety of my apartment, we were able to discuss the truly important aspects of the sport such as "who has the juiciest butt." Our attempts to turn the game into an interactive experience, "I am a football star!!!!" also helped to keep us all awake until 4:30 am when the last stragglers were finally able to catch a tram.

All in all I did enjoy my brief interlude into the ubermasculine world of late night sport viewing. However that being said, I would still love to plan a pink themed slumber party with a certain UFC fighter named Chael Sonnen... *wink wink*

Ice, Ice Baby...

Growing up in the land of the lawsuit, I have learned to take certain aspects of life for granted. For starters, I've learned that there are no such things as accidents, and someone can always be blamed for any misfortunate event in life. I've also come to expect that when winter rolls around, I will have a safe path in which to traverse, despite the fact that the sky is intent on hurdling copious amounts of precipitation onto earth, that will invariably transition back and forth between freezing into crusty snow...and melting into puddles of icky brown slush.

It is for this reason, that I am having such great difficulty dealing with the fact that the city of Gothenburg is covered in one solid sheet of ice. Looking outside my apartment window... I see shiny slick evil ice covering every surface. Even the snow is covered in a thick layer of hip breaking frozen H20.

I've tried shuffling, the Penguin waddle, even my figure skating short program I have been practicing for the Olympics (Vancouver 2010 be there!) can't prevent me from slipping and sliding all over town. While I have yet to fall (fingers crossed, pleas to universe, worshipping at the alter of George Michael) the bruises I am obtaining sliding into bike racks, parked cars, and even one particularly sharp brick window ledge, make me look worse than the produce that shows up in my grocery store here (bruised and battered).

I've tried pretending I'm a viking, a polar bear, even a space alien that has landed on a new planet, but to no avail. I simply cannot convince myself I enjoy any other slip and slide besides the kind you set up in your back yard with a hose. So I've decided after careful consideration, to become a black bear and hibernate. For the next two weeks I will gorge on chocolate, cheese, and blue berries. I will then pop an ambien, crawl under my bed, and I'll see you all in April.

Either that or I am going to invest in a pair of shoes with spikes...

Times they are a changin'

I became convinced on Wednesday night (after consuming multiple pear ciders) that I could feel a change in the air, and things were going to stop being poopy (academic) and start looking up (After two weeks of imprisonment during exams, I had been feeling less than thrilled with life). My premonition was quickly confirmed Thursday morning (3:30 pm). While waiting in line at the grocery store. I noticed another student from Handels whom I had met several times, standing in front of me in line. Emboldened with my new enthusiasm for life, I eagerly said hello. After unbearable awkwardness brought on by the fact that said acquaintance had no idea who I was. I knew life was back to normal and you know what... it felt great!

That night I headed to Oseas' apartment. Drank some wine, ate some unbelievably delicious chips and determined I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeded kebab for my ride home. Sitting at my table at 1 am, eating kebab, while not wearing pants, and watching a show about gastric bypass surgery brought such inexplicable joy I couldn't contain myself but to leave multiple facebook videos on friend's (charlotte and erica's) walls, spreading my happiness. Waking up at 5 am... dying because as I learned from my Uppsala days, my stomach cannot handle food beyond midnight I couldn't help but smile. Balance truly had returned to my life.

Friday was Sarah's last night before leaving for Denmark for the Semester. I handled her departure as I handle all great tragedies in my life. By drinking myself into oblivion. Since my memory of the night is less than crystal clear I have decided to commemorate it as I always commemorate things of great importance...in Poetry.

An Ode to Friday Night

Bottle of Riesling Wine

Sooo devine

Raspberry vodka shot

Jenny was my compatri-ot

Vanilla vodka coke

no this is not a joke

sips of oseas' red wine

starting not to feel so fine

multiple shots of tequila

makes me really quite a......

yea thats about the point things got hazy in real life too. Now it is Sunday night, I am sitting in my apartment grieving Sarah's departure. I'm finding inhalation of chocolate at lightning speed seems to be doing the trick at numbing my sadness, and the fact that I am once again not wearing pants (just kidding... maybe) Now I must plan my visit to Copenhagen!! (without erica bahahaha)

Bang-a-lang!

So I am finally back in Sweden following a three week voyage to the beautiful USA! It was a soul searching trip home. Between the countless beauty appointments (mani, pedi massage oh my!), days spent shopping and evenings spent wining & dining; I really think I grew and matured as a person.

I also think its safe to say my new haircut with bangs has completely revolutionized my life. I mean on the surface I may still appear go be the blonde American girl getting a masters degree in Sweden, but now I am a blonde American girl getting a masters degree in Sweden who has bangs! Its crazy how much my life has changed.

As if the tremendous impact of my new haircut wasn't enough, I have made another extremely significant life decision and have added graphic tees to my wardrobe. Considering how upon my arrival to the United States I owned one graphic tee... and returned to Sweden with 23 graphic tees... this is a pretty big freakin' deal. Beaded antlers, french bicycles, kitty cats... the options are endless and I can't wait to further explore this remarkable new world of fashion.

In all seriousness though, it was really great to be home for a little while and I really had a great time in the land of the fat and the home of R&B. Between shopping in Chicago with Emily (hallo graphic tees my new friend) to the night spent at blue martini in Naples with Robert (hallo 80 year old men who drive rolls royces, wear ed hardy, and surround themselves with 20 year old bimbos) I truly loved my time at home!

It's a new year, a time for change, and I really can't wait to wear my graphic tees, style my bangs and see what happens!