There are way too many stories from last month that needs to get on to the blog that I have no idea where to start. Chronological order. No, too proper for me. Reverse maybe. Or maybe I should do the London ones first. In some order, I got to do posts on the following: Chotu Motu in Adrspach, Plzen (Cat: you are not a beer drinker, are you?), Budapest, Eger, Copenhagen, TR in London, Rooster stories in Malmo - the list is never-ending. I should just pick one? Okey, I shall do Malmo just to make the birthday boy happy.
So the story is that the Rooster boy (aka Emil who makes regular appearances on this blog under the Sweden, Bamse labels) turned 30 a week ago and decided that he wanted a party to celebrate the occasion. In the interests of diversity not to mention illegal immigrant labor to clean up after the party, Bill, moi and an Egyptian-American friend (M) were duly invited. When I mentioned that I won't be able to take off work as I was already taking most of May off, our man threatened the small island that if they did not give me days off, the Vikings (with horns) would come flying on SAS and pillage whatever's around. So it was all settled and Bill and I were to fly to Copenhagen and take the train across the Oresund to Malmo, the most continental of all Swedish cities.
The whole trip, needless to say, was entertaining from beginning to end as it is with most things the Rooster is involved in, and since I am not good at copious trip accounts, I am just going to do conversation snippets. The first one here:
Ten minutes before we were to leave for the airport.
Bill: Shoot. I forgot something.
Moi: What now?
Bill: His sister asked to write something for the scrapbook they are making. I haven't sent anything.
Moi: Write now
Bill: Ya ok. Can you pack my stuff?
Moi: Beg your pardon?
Bill: How will I write and pack my stuff in 10 minutes?
Moi: If you don't, you can come on the next flight
Bill: Yeah? Whose money will be lost then?
Moi: Okay write. I will pack. Hey.
Moi: We haven't bought anything for him
Bill: Oh no. I forgot about that
Moi: What are we going to do now? What shall we get him?
Bill: Some Bamse stuff?
Moi: Yeah I thought about that. We could get him a Skallman time machine or something. But you can't get it here.
Moi: What else can you think of?
Bill: Let me think. What do you get a geek who is obsessed with graphs, trees, Bamse, saving the world and well, penises?
Moi: Do NOT go there. We are not getting any of the stuff that's swirling around in your head right now. I know what to get. Book.
Bill: Well, what book?
Moi: Geek. Double major CS and music. Likes graphs, trees and well, design. What book will you get him?
Bill: When you put it that way, yeah. Why didn't I think of it before?
Moi: Because you are useless. Lets go. Finish writing now.
Obviously it all worked out fine and the Rooster boy was in love with the Gödel, Escher, Bach. Except that he was a little too excited that he began to treat it like a picture book. He walked around with it showing everyone pages of theorems, and graphs and notes and claiming how its all too cool. Bill's pretentiousness rubbing off. Not a good thing.
Coming up next:
1. The Swedish obession with God's (or as they like to call it, Bamse's) own country
2. Real Swedish men wear Bjorn Borg underwear
 Yeah, a very entertaining time was had. Details when I get around to it. Man does people watching like no one else I know. And the only thing that I am certain of now is that tpb does not exist in real life. First, she wasn't coming, then she had to go to Oxford, and no, she is not going to Scotland with him, I mean, how many excuses can one come up with? He is most definitely making her up so that people would think he has this cool and interesting wife and since he has an interesting wife, he must have an interesting life etc. etc.