Eating all the Swedish Fish

I am slowly, but SURELY, eating all the Swedish Fish I bought for the Swede.

I’m hoping that Murphy’s Law will be in full effect for me.

If I eat them all, then I will be unprepared for him to visit me in California and he will come.

If I don’t eat them, then his trip will be cancelled and I will have no visit with The Swede.

And I REALLY want to see him.

A while ago, he told me a story about kidnapping one of his friends for his bachelor’s party.

At the time, I thought that sounded TOTALLY NUTS.

Who KIDNAPS another person?

Then, months later, I’m watching a TV show called “Welcome to Sweden” and the two main characters are getting married.

Their friends throw them WILD bachelor and bachelorette parties, including – get this – KIDNAPPING THE GROOM!

These Swedes take these parties VERY SERIOUSLY, I guess!

So I text The Swede and I say to him that I thought he was a LITTLE crazy when he told me what he did but APPARENTLY THIS IS NORMAL IN SWEDEN.

At which time he replied, “You thought *I* was crazy?”

Point taken.

Between the two of us, I am the crazy one and I think we both know that.

Burning Man. SoulFire, UnSCruz. Pagan Bunny Burn. SF Decompression. Santa Con. Pilgrim Pub Crawl. Star Wars Whores.

I’m a wee bit on the fringes of society, running around in a Santa suit, tutus, and platform boots.

Whereas he is firmly ensconced in a suit and tie and quite respectable.

HOWEVER, he looks good bare-chested in a fur vest and Viking horns.

And I clean up nicely.

So maybe we’re more of a match than one would expect.

Maybe. . .

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