missfrifri

After about a week of moping around like a loser after My Man left and hangin' out on the couch like a fatty with my cat Molly who's pregnant and hormonal I've gone from comfort- eating to comfort- work out. Mostly because I wanna be able to squeeze into 1. A hot dress that I found in the back of my closet 2. A corset that I've seen on La Senza's website. Eyes on the prize baby. ;D

So, today's been filled with morning power- walk, weights and then some biking in the evening. I probably look like the biggest moron ever when I'm biking, since I still wear the same helmet that I wore when I was 10 (I'm still scared of being without a helmet- silly, I know, but on the other hand I suppose that it's a bonus that I protect my brain so oh well =P), plus I managed to go on the wrong side of the road for at least 10 mins. I realized my mistake after a fat man in some fancy car slowed down and looked at me really angrily. But how much trouble could I possibly have caused? There are like 2 cars here per km. I mean seriously, some people just need to get laid more often.

I was quite excited when I switched on the TV just in time for an interview with Hanne Vibeke Holst, a Danish author whose books I like a lot and tend to be inspired by all kinds of drama in Swedish politics.

The first thing that happens when Vibeke Holst comes on is that the interviewer asks what her tips are to make the every- day life with her family work out. She says that "I'm very lucky since I have a husband who has a lot of extra time since he is a bit older than me. He helps out so much in the home and with the kids so it pretty much feels as if he is my wife."
Hm. I initially react because she's immediately indicating that family and house work is apparently something that's 1. for women, 2. if her husband helps her that doesn't make him a great man and husband, but instead he's deprived of being a man and called a wifey. (Not in the positive way, because obviously it could be- or I would say myself that it's better to be a husband than a wife. The point is that she does this in a negative and ironic way which makes the men on stage and everyone laugh at what's apparently silly. Because apparently nobody wants to be the wifey? No?)

Ironically (maybe it's just me who didn't know this) it turns out that Vibeke Holst has been working for the UN with women's rights. I get my hopes up again and think that this could be quite interesting, but then she says things like...

"Swedish feminists are much more aggressive than the Danish ones. I mean, look at me, I'm so nice! I'm probably the only feminist in the whole of Denmark, and look at me- I'm all nice and smiley!"

"I've seen what inequality does to women in so many different contexts. [Turns to the man sitting next to her, shakes her fist and laughs loudly, saying with an ironic voice] we all have to come together and fight the oppression and patriarchy."

Feminists (although there are so many different interpretations and ideas) are for some reason still often seen as radical and aggressive. Somehow people still think that feminism and equality discussions are so uncomfortable that you have to make jokes about it, or tell everyone how nice you are so that they won't be scared of you. Personally, I don't think that it helps to explain that you're "nice" and that you aren't aggressive. Screw that, stand by you your opinion instead or you play into the hands of those who call you aggressive and you definitely won't be taken seriously.

I'm sure Vibeke Holst has great ideas and has contributed loads to the UN's work. It's just a shame that she feels like she has to joke about it for people not to get uncomfortable. And it's a shame that so many other women do the same thing. And it's definitely a shame if she's Denmark's only feminist.

Went to see granny for some coffee, cookies and gossip. Every now and then she gives me letters to translate to English to send to our relatives in the US. Granny's clever in the sense that since she knows I'm going through the letters, she sneaks little things in there, just for me, such as:

"Emma [my sister] is very good with everything to do with the home; she's so good at cooking and she helps me a lot. Frida on the other hand is hopeless. She's really nice to talk to but she's absolutely hopeless with everything practical. Somehow she manages to survive when she's living on her own though. I wonder how it's gonna turn out for her in the future, poor girl. She just finished her law degree, but unless she marries someone rich I think she's in for trouble with all her student loans. Oh well, what can you do- it's her choice."

- Granny, why are you telling our relatives crap about me??
- Well, they want to know my opinion!
- And what's the deal with me having to marry someone rich? I can work for myself!
- Darling, that's so unrealistic!
- Granny, it's 2010.
- Just have a cookie, dear.

The pleasant coffee- time was followed up by watching the question time with Jan Björklund (for those of you who aren't Swedish, Jan Björklund is the party leader of our liberal party). Generally I think that Swedish politicians try too hard to please people instead of saying what they actually think. (I think that that's a typical Swedish thing though, we don't like uncomfortable situations or conflicts at all and would rather back out. Don't you agree with me?) Jan Björklund doesn't go back on things or change his mind on topics that are a bit sensitive or uncomfortable- which means that at least you know what his standing point is and then you can take it or leave it. Plus he makes some very good points too. Very impressed!

Election in 3 weeks people, have you decided how you're going to vote yet?

So the weather here has literally been crap since the day that I landed. Before that it was apparently 28- 30 degrees every day. Good for you guys. But honestly, is going for a 30 min run without looking like something the cat dragged in afterwards too much to ask? At least the rain made me run a bit faster...
Seriously though Sweden, what's  up with this weather?

When you spend a few days with someone non- stop it's inevitable that they get to see both the good and bad sides of you. So, even if I've JOKED about my bad sides before, in reality it's not quite as fun. For instance, I'd say that I almost completely lack cooking and driving skills. So when me and My Man were on our way to the bank...

- Uh, I'm such a bad driver.
- (Trying to sound positive) Naaaah.... Well, I mean you'd be perfectly fine if you were just changing the right gears at the right time. And some other details here and there... Noo don't pick up your phone..!
- (Fri on the phone) Steeeeph! Ok so where are you? How are you? Where should we go?
- (Sweating) Ok Fri please just push your foot down so I can change gears for you in the meantime
- Ooooh, parking spot!
Both leave the car.
- Fri.
- What??
- I'm gonna need a freakin' taxi just to get up on the actual pavement. You parked the car like one metre away from it!
- (Pouts) I'm actually in the square! That's what counts! You can't say anything if I'm in the square!
- It looks like you stole the car and then dumped it here to escape into the forest!
- I'm in the squaaaaare!!!
- Give me the keys.
- (Suspicious) Nej, why?
- I'm gonna park the car properly.
- Nää!
- Keys.

When I come back outside from the bank I'm met by an extremely smug Alex who's done the perfect parking.
- See Fri? I parked the car perfectly. It's not your fault that you can't park, I'm better at it since I'm a man. You see, this is how a MAN parks a car.

Great. I have somehow developed feelings for a Manpig in disguise. (If his manpig ways really ever were in disguise, quite possibly I was just temporarily blind.)

Do you think Russell Crowe is good at parking?

So today I found myself rather paralyzed from missing My Man who left yesterday, which resulted in ridiculous amounts of comfort food. And Frifri never discriminates, I can comfort eat just about anything or whatever I find. When that stage had passed I went into the stage where I was annoyed that I missed him so much, and started obsessing about that instead.

So. Well then. Sorry I haven’t blogged in the past few days, I’ve been, eh, busy. My Man has been over to Sweden for a few days of Jönköping sightseeing and general fabulousness.

 

As Linnea said the other day: just as you’re standing on stage flagging your single manifesto, that’s when it happens. The guy just walks past, grabs your arm and drag you with him in a whirlwind. And there isn’t really that much that you can do.

 

So suddenly it turns out that I have turned into one of the people I hate. For instance…

·         On a ”tourist- trip” to IKEA in Jönköping me and My Man were one of these awful couples who test- sit sofas and then kiss in them. (I hate myself.)

·         I think that he’s cute when he eats meatballs.

·         When we go somewhere I hold his arm and giggle. (Total geek.)

·         One time when he was taking a power- nap I suddenly realize that I was watching him sleep, smiling. (Gross.)

·         When he was like 1 metre away I already missed him. (Usch.)

 

In other words My Man has somehow managed to transform me into some kind of monster. But I’m just wondering, is this how it’s supposed to be? Is this really ok? It’s a relief that both me and My Man have a remaining connection with our cynical inside, so that we can laugh at how lame we are and sometimes punch each other. It makes the change into being a moron more bearable.

 

Ps. Just to make this clear- I’m still highly critical against all other men, and man- bimbos in particular. I just happen to like MY Man. Nothing needs to change.

So, some updates from the last few days will follow shortly. Stay tuned.

 

Message sent from : Frida
To: Stephanie
At 23:34
Ok cracker, so I've officially gone mad. We've booked the tickets, and he's flying in on Monday morning. GAAAAAH!

Message sent from: Stephanie
To: Frida
At 23:36
(Should be read with Aggnätta- voice) Congratulations Frida, just like a spider the crackhoe has caught yet another man victim in her net. Im proud of you, what a party this'll be! I'll call you tomorrow, stay calm.

Message sent from: Frida
To: Millan
At: 23:45
EMERGENCY, he's flying in on Monday and I only have my HOT- collection of underwear here, not the HOTHOT one. Are you opening the store on Monday? Put DDs and E's away from me, I have an hr to fix it.

Message sent from: Millan
To: Frida
At: 23:47
I open on Monday, I'm on it! Make sure you get your beauty sleep darling.

..........

Sometimes I feel like cooking makes Equity and Trusts law seem like a blast. Even if I have a cook book with pictures..! (My sister got it when she was 6. I'm the loser still using it. She's the gifted one who, according to my granny will get married and live happily ever after while I apparently, due to my lack of practical skills, will end up alone forever. I tell granny that in that case I could always get a toyboy, but she never appreciates that idea.)

Frifri= officially struggs.

HOWEVER- this is the result. Not toooo bad for being Frifri.


Was then entertained by a Man who's (unfortunately) far away, who was flashing his muscular thighs and biceps on webcam (now you're wondering, aren't you?) Thus I had to comfort eat due to not being able to squeeze the biceps. Therefore, now I feel slightly nauseous. Powerwalk, ja? Although it's probably gonna be more like a powerroll... Hm...

After a night of spooning a loooong brunch was in order. My cooking skills are, as many of you know, non- existent. However I like to entertain others while they cook. (Or at least I like to think that I entertain...)

After the past days' traumas a bit of lovin' in shape of dinner at Stephanie's, drinks in Jönköping and sleepover at Linnéa's was in order. As usual when I've seen these ladies everything's censored. It's best that way. Curious? You should be ;)

When out in Jönköping Town, one of the main targets was to find a suitable man for S. Disappointed we noticed that the range of men to choose between weren't exactly reminding us of a buffé. It was more like a restaurant without food, or the man- version of the Sahara- desert. So, instead we considered ourselves defeated, went home to Linnéas and all slept in her double bed together with some food that we discovered in the fridge.

When thinking about it, maybe some guys' obsession with girls' sleepovers is justified when it comes to certain aspects. Some of the things uttered yesterday were:

- Ok Fri, I bought some new underwear and I want your expert opinion.

- Oh, I like the peach- coloured frenchies, put them on so I can see how they fit!

- Crap, I forgot to bring something to sleep in. You guys don't mind, do you?

- Oops, now my bra came off, sorry for flashing all of you.

- Aww, isn't this cosy.

The important thing is, that whatever happens in your life you can always trust your friends to spoon you. <3<3<3

 

Because only a good lobster can make you go from

There are days which are "sort- all- the- important- stuff- out" kind of days. I hate these days since they generally involve phone ques, stress eating candy, being transferred between different departments and then, by the end of the day, hardly anything was accomplished anyway. This has been my life for the past couple of days.

Day 1: laying in bed knowing that I have to sort all the important stuff out. Cannot handle the pressure. Panic- eat candy.



Day 2: Start the Days of Horror by going to the dentist. Have a new dentist. She tries to talk to me while she's working in my mouth. (WHYwhyWHY do they ALWAYS do that?) She says "oh right, you cannot answer. Because I'm working in your mouth. "Wafcsckmlmls." "Mm I agree." The nurse is new and cannot manage the suck- thing that's supposed to pick up your saliva and almost strangles me with it. Then miss my teeth when she's polishing my teeth. I get toothpaste all over my face. She laughs, picks up a towel and smear it all out, together with my lipstick, so that it looks even worse. Get toothpaste on my clothes.

Bitch- level: 1. Slightly uncomfortable. Slightly annoyed. Smell of toothpaste.



Call CSN (Swedish Student Boarder for Student Aid.) They don't at all understand why I'd need to have a loan to cover the tuition fees for my Masters Programme. Plus they've never heard of a bar exam, LPC or what that would be good for. Also they question whether these are really courses, maybe I've misunderstood it and really it's a job instead? Probably not since it's, well, an education, rather known and in fact I also need it if I'd ever wanna practice in Sweden some day (ironic since in Sweden there's no such thing as a bar exam. Oh well.) After I've talked to four people I give up, thinking that my life is over. Also, I can't find my dry shampoo and start crying.

Bitch- level: 2. The Drama- Queen Stage.

Frankly, this is something that bores me. And sort of annoys me. It’s directed to you, girls. (Or well, some of you.)

When I’m in Jönköping and I meet someone (girls) that I haven’t seen for ages and I ask them what they’re doing now, the answers that I get from almost everyone tend to be something like:

“Me and my boyfriend are moving in together.”

“We’re getting married!”

“Me and my boyfriend just broke up.”

“I’m engaged!”

All of the above are obviously important things that you wanna tell the other person (or the world) about, they’re big steps and exciting news. But- what happened to telling me what you actually work with, or what you’re studying? I never hear a guy that I haven’t met for a while start the conversation by only talking about how he’s moving in with his girlfriend. And I mean, if nothing else- can’t you at least tell me about both things? Now that gals can and are actually allowed to do it all, wouldn’t it be fun to, you know, talk about it?

Seriously, you bore me.

I wanna know what you’re doing, not who you’re doing.

Or as Linnea said the other day: men will come and go, but a university degree is forever.

Mum forced me to have breakfast in the forest outside our house today while she was picking blueberries. This is how happy I was.

Selfridges has never felt further away.

Mummy Eva

... FriFri will play ;D

Mum started work again today- which means more opportunities to eat. HALLELUJAH!

As many of my Swedish friends are starting to get more serious with their boyfriends and maybe even moving in with them, I can't help but to notice certain trends. The trend being that women make, eh, a lot of decisions. Sometimes informing the boyfriend, sometimes just "knowing" that what they're doing is the right thing to do.
Some of them have have what they call "ugly rooms" where they've put furniture that belong to the boyfriend and which they refuse to get rid of, but the girl just can't stand to have in the rest of the flat/ house. So, she simply puts all of that in one room and calls it the "ugly room." And then they hope that eventually he'll "grow out of it."

One friend calls the guy she's dating her "renovating project." When I asked her to elaborate she explained that just like an old house, he has great potential and could become shiny and new with her helping hand and a bit of creativity. The question is: are men AWARE that to so many they are, apparently, "renovating projects?" And are they even capable of change?

One of my friends is amazingly creative, has great taste and has made her (their) house absolutely beautiful. Except, there's one thing. Her boyfriend refuses to get rid of the carpet in the living room, which absolutely doesn't go with anything and is just.... random. After a year of carpet- war, her plan is to phase him into something new that's semi- manly and then before he realizes she's swapped that too for something that she wants.

But is it maybe the case that this last item somehow, well, represents the guy's manliness? It's as if, if he loses the carpet, he's definitely been whipped. If his friends come over, at least he can say he picked out the carpet? (Although, of course, the friends would play along anyway since they're highly likely to go through the same process.) Maybe it's just easier if we let them keep the carpet, although we all know that we're the ones who make the decisions? =P

Finally- perhaps we could find men that don't actually have to be renovating projects, but are, you know, a good fit and that we like just as they are. Although most guys are still likely to bring with them an ugly carpet or cupboard into your life that will take over your house. On the other hand, if the only flaw is the carpet you could probably live with it. (Well, for a year or so. There are limits.)

Personally, I know I won't have the same problem as my friends. I'm in a different position since I'm perfect. And my future man will know that. Right?

In short, yesterday was spent at the gym with mummy Eva, and then shopping with her and Emma. Despite having a very empty bank account it seems as if I, somehow, always find some way to buy an item if I fall in love with it. For example, yesterday I fell in love with a handbag, a scarf and expensive lingerie. The agony of whether or not to buy the lingerie made me 15 minutes late to see Mikaela. Luckily, my friends love me for me and accept excuses such as “I’m so sorry I’m late, but I was distracted by this amazing pair of french knickers, LOOK!” Also, I fell in love with a pair of shoes but my sister bought them for herself before I had a chance to stop her.

I then had a great girly afternoon with Sofia, Clara, Stephanie, Sara and Mikaela. It was one of those afternoons that made me think that girls discuss EXACTLY the things that guys hope we don't. And when we notice new trends or behaviour from your part that we don't like, we create pacts and networks to try and stop you. Be aware of the girl maffia, boys ;)

Sara and Mikaela

Me and Stephanie

Now: girl's night out. Will update you later ;)

Ps. Who ever thought a man in clown pants could make your eyes sparkle?

You know that an evening out has been a success when you wake up holding a McDonald's bag in one hand, your mobile phone which has been used for drunk texting in the other and your first instinct is to call Stephanie to do some damage control before you, so to speak, leave the sinking ship and leave behind what cannot be saved.

Yesterday we all had quite the night out and about in Jönköping Town. We started the classyness by having £5 wine in plastic coffee cups on the beach, followed by wine in real wineglasses (what an upgrade!) at Twin City.

Since my sister had promised to pick me up, I thought that a bit too much £5 wine wouldn't really matter. Imagine the surprise when it's my dad who arrives in the car instead. Oh well. Viktor who we're supposed to drop off on the way home grabs my arm and says "Frida, if you could, for once in your life, be quiet, I'll deal with this situation and do the talking."
That of course didn't happen since that's physically impossible for me. However I thought I handled the situation quite smoothly until I had to get out of the car and pretty much had to lift myself up. Oh the classyness.

Mum came into my room at 8 this morning and demanded I go for a morning jog when...
"Frida."
"Mhscji?"
"Is this what I THINK it is???"
[Mummy Eva takes up the McDonald's bag.]
"Bad bad BAD Frida. You should be ashamed of yourself."
Oh. The joy of living with your parents.

Message from: Viktor
Sent at: 19.42
Hi Biatch, I'm starting to get fabulous (read: ready) when are you leaving?

I love that my friends realize that they have to use my type of language for our communication to work successfully.

Went to the gym and regretted my decision as soon as I went into the actual gym and realized that I had absolutely no motivation. However decided to push through the pain and then reward myself with chocolate. The only way to do it!

Met my lovah Stephanie for lunch since we didn't feel like we were done catching up yesterday. (Not that we're ever done talking, tirades are what we do best hehe ;D)

I'm having "Olle's super- smoothie" for breakfast. Don't let it fool you, this little baby contains banana, raspberries, milk, oatmeal and 1 raw egg. Just like me it's pink on the outside but has hidden powers on the inside hehe ;D Seriously though, perfect when you're starting your morning with cardio: it fills you up and has most of the stuff that you need, but it doesn't make you wanna vomit on the treadmill ;)

Morning cardio, here I come!

Ps. Don't worry, you can't actually taste the egg.

Sorry for making NO updates but I had no internet connection while I was away- which was very stressful at first but then turned out to be quite pleasant. Being completely cut off from the world is probably quite healthy now and then. However, don't despair- all the Italy updates are now on below this post ;)

BUT- I now have a pile of stuff to go through that have to do with the real world such as bank things and internet bills. Very unpleasant, but must be done. I have to stalk down the estate agent again once and for all and try to get that apartment. It's come to a point where the apartment/ estate agent plays so hard to get that I almost wanna make sure that we get the apartment just for the hell of it. FriFri never takes no for an answer.

Oh, and of course- I have to make the yearly phonecall to CSN (the Swedish Border for Student Aid). I don't like them, they don't like me, it's a constant battle every year and throughout the year to actually receive the benefits and student loans that I am in fact entitled to as a Swedish Citizen. No matter how much proof I have they never recognize the subjects I'm studying or even that I AM studying. I mean, I don't get it- it's a LOAN, I'm gonna have to pay it back anyway! What's the problem???

Flying back. Plane full of kids. Find strenght from within.

Me and Emma start by being total bitches on the transfer. The people working for Solresor (who have been impossible to find during the week) explain that we shouldn't be "scared" at the airport. Because there are signs saying "GOTHENBURG" where we should check in. And there are only 8 check- in desks anyway. And they're going to show us them. Emma listens to her iPod so doesn't realize that she's very loud when she says sarcastically "REALLY?? OMG, what's wrong with these people? Are they idiots???"

One of the people working for the resort runs by the bus, waving goodbye and jumping up and down. He's been my hate- target of the week. It culminated when one evening I was upset because of x, y and z, and when I was crying and talking to my brother he came by screaming about some beach- party.
"Can you please leave? I don't actually want to talk to you right now."
"Oh buhuhuuuuu why so sad lady? You're on HOLIDAY!!" (Starts doing the Holiday- dance. Super annoying dance that the guides do to a super- annoying song every morning at 9 am at breakfast. I'm gonna post a film of it later.)
My brother had to physically push him away for him to leave.

We get to the airport. After much trouble for about 1 hr and 15 mins the pilot says "Ladies and gentlemen, we're having some... technical problems. But we're just gonna have to fly and see how it goes. Hopefully nothing goes wrong. if it does, I'll try my best to fix it. I wish you all a very pleasant flight!"

After me, Emma and Olle have been swearing over the pilot being incompetent, an idiot and possibly drunk we notice that we have a family with small children right in front of us which we know from the week to be extremely annoying. To the right we have a weird couple with a blonde my or Emma's age, who's quite obviously here with her sugar daddy. We've been observing them during the week and they seem to be doing some kind of role play. In other words, the flight to be an orgie of children screming, suspicious movement under blankets and moaning, combined with a fear of dying. Excellent.

After the family in front of us has played Yatzy for 3 hours, AND given prizes to all members of the family, AND given speeches, AND applauded, a girl who's about 8 screams "STOOOP PLAAAYIIING." About at this point we have 30 mins to landing, and 4 children nearby start screaming like crazy (probably because their ears hurt due to pressure, which no one seems to realize." The parents start panicking and singing/screaming/dancing/crying.

NEVER. AGAIN.

I read in British Cosmo that 75% of British women dread going on holiday with their friends because they don’t want them to see what they look like in bikinis- which totally pissed me off. I mean, seriously- who wants to look like the old version of Nicole Richie anyway? Bring on the boobs and bootHeys!

Plus- what happened with the good old sisterhood and girl- power? If we don't boost each other, who will?

B1- Boobs

B2- Body fat

B3- Butt

Bikinis from La Senza Summer/Spring Collection 2010

I LOVE going shopping with my brother! (I love shopping for men’s clothes. In fact, I love shopping for most clothes.) However, I have to say that this young man has very good taste of his own (well, according to me at least. And I in turn consider MYSELF to have good taste hehe. And Mavra- I know that at times you strongly disagree lol).

As of today my brother is a very proud owner of the beautiful watch that can be seen below. And he thinks JUST like me. (”Fri, I don’t care that I can’t afford to do anything for like three months. When my friends eat, I can just watch this beautiful piece of art and it will fill me more than any food.”)

So, for the past days Olle keeps saying things like

"Fri, what time is it?"

"I don't know, I don't have.."

"Oh. Hold on. I have Armani here. [Lifts arm in slow- motion, wrinkles fore- head, lifts eye- brow.] Armani says it's 2.30. Armani's always right."

"Haha!"

"Don't laugh in front of Armani. [Turns around.] Mum, in case someone needs to know the time, please ask me!"

 

Note to men: hot watch= turnon.

I don’t know about you gals but I’d definitely date a man who wears this watch. LIKE.

 

About two times per year mummy Dahlqvist suddenly feels like ice- cream, candy or maybe even cake. This is a moment you have to grasp- meaning that you risk to eat yourself sick. So when we went to visit Pizzo, a small town near our hotel, we decided to try the local specialty Tarture- an absolutely amazing chocolate ice- cream covered in chocolate powder, with nutella in the middle and nougat ice- cream as a bottom. Basically the ice- cream version of sex. After two of these babies most of us felt quite sick. But very very happy ;D

 

Me and Emma started spying on a group of Italian guys that were sitting next to us. The area that we’re in is known as one of the places where the Italian Maffia is the most active (quite ironic, I know hehe) and so there are quite many macho men around. Therefore, I thought it was quite cute that this group of guys ordered strawberry ice- cream with sprinkles. It seems as if the Italian men choose to express their softer side through their desserts.

 

 

After some early morning gym I go to water gymnastics with some old people. The latter makes me feel incredibly fit, since, well, everyone else is old. FriFri’s feel- good- tip of the day: work out with old people!

Olle is attacked by French women at the pool who're quite obviously looking for fresh meat. Mum takes pictures and tells me how proud she is. Olle runs up from the pool.

Emma finally gets fed up with all the children that are EVERYWHERE. When a boy throws a ball in her head for the third time she throws it out of sight and tells the parents that it was an accident.

When in the pool, I start giggling at this older man walking towards me since he has so dorky shorts. And lame sunglasses. Aww. Older men and their lacking sense of style. Not so fun anymore when I realize that it’s my own dad.

By now Emma and I have realized that there are absolutely no hot single guys ANYWHERE. While I’m not so bothered (shocker, I know) Emma is seriously upset and asks mum how she ”could put her in this situaiton.” Mum laughs.

I catch a boy swimming beneath me with a snorkel, spying up between my legs. I pull him up in his hair. Those little bitches start early! Almost as disturbing as when I was working in GAP a few years ago and I had to tell a customer that ”Ehrm, excuse me sir, but your son is, ehm, touching the mannequin.” ”What do you mean? It’s a doll, he can touch it if he wants?” ”Well, he pulled down the underwear on it and… Eh… Go and see for yourself, sir.” Seriously. Can you imagine? This boy was like 5 years old. Where did he see how to do that???

To her relief, Emma spots an Italian lifeguard. She starts strutting about around him. All is well. Dad’s not happy.

Tennis and morning run. I like!

Dahlqvist Boothey's on Bootcamp hehe ;D

Something I can’t stand with these sorts of trips is when the people working on the resorts try to convince you to do activities that you don’t really want to do. Personally, if I want to go on an active holiday I go somewhere completely different where things, you know, HAPPEN. The whole point with being here is inactivity.

Still, there are Swedish people working for the hotel (almost all the people here are Swedish) that try to force me to go on biking trips and similar activities for ”only” 50 Euro. Finally, just so that one of them would shut up- and since I, well, like alcohol- I agreed to go to a ”cocktail class” yesterday (I felt like that was something I could bear since, well, it involved alcohol.). The girl told me to mix vodka and lemonade. Totally excited and waving her arms she was like ”weeeii, there you gooo- cocktaaaail!!!” Ehh… no?

Today I was harrassed by ”Viktoria” when I’d fallen asleep at the pool. Although she had absolutely nothing to say, she REFUSED to leave me alone.

”Hello there!”

”Hi?”

”I’ve never talked to you before!”

”Eh.. no.. who are you?”

”I’m Viktoria!”

”Ok.”

Silence. Viktoria looks at me with curious eyes.

”So, Viktoria…  Can I help you?”

”How’s your holiday?”

””Great, thanks.”

”Amazing!”

Silence.

”Feel free to ask me questions about the hotel etc.”

”Oh, that’s ok, I don’t really have any questions.”

”Amazing!”

Viktoria still insists that I ask questions. However, when I ASK questions about trips into the small town nearby, the weather forecast for the week, shopping etc Viktoria knows… nothing. Except that everything’s ”Amazing.” Still she just… WON’T LEAVE. She just stares at me. Eventually, I tell her that I really enjoy doing, well, nothing. And that I’m perfectly fine on my vacation. She says ”Amazing!” but still won’t leave.

 

After 20 minutes of sheer pain dad walks by. I tell him that Viktoria wants to talk to him. Problem solved.

After dad’s cave- man behaviour the entire night I was not, eh, quite as positive as I usually am. In fact, I have a feeling that most people on the transfer bus hate me with a passion.

But, seriously:

1.      They wanted everyone on the bus to fill in LONG evaluation on the bus. We’re about 40 people on each bus but when I ask if they have any pens not only don’t they have any, but the girl looks at me as if I’m an idiot for not bringing a pen on my vacation. I wanna say that for once in my life I’m excited that I don’t have to bring pens, papers and books, but decide to settle for being a total drama queen, put my sunglasses on, sigh in despair and say something like ”nobody’s life can be worse than mine right now. Seriously, NO PEN??? F*ck my life!!!”

2.      At the hotel reception, they want me to sign three papers in Italian. They don’t explain what I’m signing and why. When I ask what it is, the girl says ”your signature is a confirmation that you’ve received information about what it says on these papers (point at other papers I’ve never seen). I say that well, I haven’t received that information so I can’t sign. (My sister starts to look uncomfortable as she knows what’s coming). As I ask what the information IS, the girl looks shocked, and it turns out that she has to ask 2 other people to find out what the information that she’s supposed to give me is. Then I’m told that ”oh, it’s just all this small text on these papers but it isn’t really important.” As a true former law- student I piss everyone else off by insisting on reading ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING. Italian people trying to pull exclusion clauses on my ass??? I don’t think so!

3.      Temporary low- down when we’re mistakenly told that there’s no gym. Everyone except for dad panics and want to go home. Dad's super- happy.

1.      Parents to a 5- year old on our flight tried to convince him that we were in fact on a train and not an airplane. So he didn’t have to be scared. Because we weren’t really flying. HOW is that helping the poor child??

2.      Mum has apparently booked us into an old people’s alternatively families with small children- trip. This was already apparent at the airport when all the hot people were in cues for other flights. Never a good sign.

3.      Very hot younger daddy on the flight with two gorgeous children. However also had a wife. Me and Emma came to the conclusion that it was probably for the best though. Since, well, he has children.

We decide that we’re going to leave the house at 3 am to get to Gothenburg Airport. So, in my mind (since I successfully managed to pack in the end) I’ll get up at about 2.30, get dressed and leave the house. (I only managed to go to bed at 1.30.)

But- at 1.55, daddy Ulf thinks that it’s time to start stressing. No one knows over what. But apparently we’re in a rush. The stress culminates in mum not finding her favourite socks, so we all have to raid the house (since she refuses to take another pair) while daddy Ulf is having a stress attack in the car about how late we are in our schedule. (9 minutes.) I explain that the way that he’s planning the whole thing, we’re going to be at the airport AT LEAST 2,5 hours before our flight. Which really isn’t necessary. Dad still drives in 130 km per hr. And we end up at the airport 2 hours and 45 minutes before our flight. However we use this time wisely: dad spills coffee all over himself, Olle refuses to leave the car because he’s hungry, dad successfully picks the parking area which is the absolute furthest from the terminal, Emma takes pictures of dad when he’s pissed off and laughs at him, and mum starts worrying since she can only find  two copies of the tickets and not the other 2 back- up ones.

When Emma and I go to check the monitors for check- in we realize that we still don’t know where in Italy we’re actually going (which people around us find rather amusing). After checking the ticket, mum knows where it is. Dad then rushes us through check- in, security and the shop area and forces us to go to the gate 70 minutes before boarding (me of course being most angry since he ruins all my chances of tax- free shopping). After having tried to calm him down since 2 am without success I’ve decided to just push through the pain.