Walking in a winter wonderland

You will not BELIEVE what I’ve done.

I BOUGHT A PLANE TICKET TO SWEDEN!

Yup!

You heard right!

I’m going to Sweden to visit The Swede.

Well, to visit ALL THE SWEDES, I guess!

I’m so excited I could just spit.

My trip isn’t months away.

Oh no!

I’m going to Sweden December 28th!

Basically I’m on vacation for two weeks over the holidays so I figured why not visit The Swede who is ALSO ON VACATION?

Now.

It’s occurred to me that Sweden in December MIGHT be less than ideal.

Especially for a born and bred California girl.

It will be a shock to my system, I am sure.

Not just the cold but the lack of sunlight.

I hear that the sun rises at 9 am and sets at 3 pm in Stockholm in the winter.

Sigh.

It will just make me appreciate my lovely sunny California ALL THE MORE.

But you know, Stockholm could be awfully pretty in the winter – a snowy wonderland of sorts.

And (BEST OF ALL) this means I will be spending NEW YEAR’S EVE with The Swede.

Flip me over, butter my butt and call me sweetheart – I AM TOTALLY EXCITED!

Sweden

I’m one step closer to booking my trip to Stockholm.

I just bought myself a big, puffy, faux fur trim, hooded jacket.

Because basically I’m OBSESSED with the weather.

I live in a temperate climate and so I rarely get to experience the phenomenon known as WEATHER.

Nope.

I basically exist between 50 and 105 degrees Fahrenheit every year.

In Stockholm in December, normal temperatures are around freezing and occasionally warm up to 35 degrees.

That’s COLD!

I don’t even KNOW about the sun, but I suspect being that far north in the hemisphere means that there will be MUCH LESS DAYLIGHT than what I’m used to.

Once, I took a trip to Pennsylvania in the winter time.

Besides shoveling snow EVERY DAMN DAY I WAS THERE, I got to experience what I like to call FUCKING COLD ASS WEATHER.

It was 10 degrees outside.

I’ve never experienced cold like that.

With the wind chill factored in, the temperature was below zero.

BELOW FUCKING ZERO!

The wind WHIPPED through my jeans like needles of ice pricking me and I remembered those ridiculous looking long puffy jackets people on the east coast wore and realized that THIS IS WHY THEY WEAR THOSE SILLY THINGS.

BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING COLD!

Well, I’m not positive, but I think Sweden is COLDER THAN PENNSYLVANIA!

Nevertheless, I have heard it’s beautiful.

And technically, I’m probably Swedish myself (23andMe says I’m mostly Northwestern European).

So I SHOULD go.

But will I?

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. . .

A present for The Swede

Christmas is coming and I am already 110% ahead of the game.

My Christmas cards have been mailed.

My shopping is done.

Even my wrapping is complete.

I’ve annoyed even myself with my efficiency.

Personally, I am thrilled at the selection of gifts I have bought for my friends and family.

None more so than The Swede.

First, I bought him an industrial size box of Swedish Fish.

As a joke, naturally.

Then I proceeded to BREAK INTO the box and ate a bunch of fish so I had to get him something else.

And please, dear Swede, if you are reading this, stop now or your surprise will be RUINED.

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I custom made a tee shirt for The Swede.

Yes. I. Did.

Because I could find a tee shirt that said “Eat, Sleep Hockey” in English, but not in Swedish.

And I figure WHY BUY IT IN ENGLISH if he’s going to be in Sweden wearing it?

It should be in Swedish.

So I translated “Eat, Sleep Hockey” into Swedish “Äta, Sova, Hockey.”

Perfect!

Then I printed it in YELLOW lettering on a ROYAL BLUE tee shirt – the colors of Sweden.

How’s that for a present for you?

I REALLY hope he likes it!

You can’t say I didn’t make an effort. . .

P.S.  I got him a SECOND gift.  Just because I do that sometimes.  Check out this awesome mug I had custom made for him:

Swedish Fish

In my usual (neurotic) form, I went shopping on Amazon for The Swede.

Basically, I had nothing better to do but pretend I have a (Swedish) boyfriend to shop for.

Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, no?

Well, I basically don’t know very much about him.

I know he’s Swedish. I know he likes hockey. I know he likes fast cars. I know he likes spicy things.

I flashed back to the time when I STUPIDLY asked him if Swedish Fish really came from Sweden.

He stared at me blankly, answering my question without saying a word.

I found a really cool glass “California” ornament, to remind him of his time in California (and a certain smoldering blond he should like).

I found a vintage heathered blue tee shirt with the Swedish flag on it (but he probably has bunches of these).

I also found the HILARIOUS “Have No Fear The Swede Is Here” tee shirt, which I personally love and can just picture him wearing it when he arrives in California.

swedeThen I looked for hockey stuff, and I came across a Swedish Hockey ornament.

That went in the shopping cart.

But while I was shopping for Swedish hockey stuff, I came across the PERFECT tee for The Swede’s hockey-loving, goalie-playing daughter.

Then I woke up.

I do not have a Swedish boyfriend. His daughter doesn’t even know I exist.

It was fun to look but in the end, I emptied my cart. . .

. . .and bought the Swedish Fish.

Those things are GOOD!

Have no fear, the Swede is here

Genius that I am, I bought The Swede a bucket full of hot sauces, none of which are probably edible on a human level.

It was a respectable gift for a friend to give another friend.

EXCEPT that the shipping (FedEx) cost an outrageous $215.

Next time I should just write him a check for $300 and be done with it.

I totally would have skipped out on sending the present except that I PROMISED I was sending something so I HAD TO.

Tejas laughed at me and said I picked the most expensive service for transportation.

Huh.

Who knew (obviously not me), though I did point out that I went to USPS and UPS first.

Tejas told me I need to learn to use Amazon Sweden.

It’s not Amazon Sweden, it’s Global Amazon.

I actually DID look it up.

The problem is that lovely bucket of inedible hot sauce wasn’t available for shipping to Sweden.

Hence, my problem.

So I’ve been playing around with Global Amazon (any tips you have are appreciated) and I found THIS:

When I nicknamed The Swede “The Swede’ I wasn’t being particularly clever or bright.

It was just the most obvious choice.

However, I LOVE the idea of The Swede wearing this shirt in California.

Especially since he’s my excuse to GET OFF THIS FUCKING ABSTINENCE KICK EARLY!

Have no fear, the Swede is HERE!

Breathe in. Breathe out.

In case you didn’t know it, The Swede is 9 hours ahead of me, time wise.

So there’s only a little window of opportunity to communicate unless we want to stay up super late.

Early morning. Late evening.

That’s what works.

So I’m messaging The Swede when I realize that it’s almost 2 am in Sweden.

I do what I always do.

I say good night in Swedish.

God Natt.

He likes it when I speak (my limited) Swedish to him.

Jag kan prata lite Svenska. (I can speak a little Swedish)

En billeter tack. (One ticket, please)

Var ligger badrummen? (Where is the bathroom?)

I’m so exotic.

So I get ready to sign off when I decided to send a GIF of a kiss.

And I pick out a naughty, horizontal thrusting, open-mouthed kiss and send it to him.

As soon as I hit send I think, “Oh! I’m not supposed to do this!” but it’s too late.

It’s been sent.

And now The Swede knows that I want to French kiss him while he lays on top of me, thrusting.

Oh well.

It’s not like I’m not trying.

But flirting is like breathing – even if you want to stop something keeps you going.

Ultimately, I decided that since I like The Swede it’s okay to flirt with him.

Just no more NEW men.

And no making sex jokes at my expense.

It’s all progress!

Save

Hell in a Bucket

Someone special is having a birthday very soon.

It’s just a couple of weeks away.

And so I decided to get him a gift.

You know, to celebrate his birthday and let him know I like him.

I didn’t go overboard this time.

I ‘ll never forget the year I bought my brand new boyfriend an iPad and he freaked out (a little bit) over the extravagance.

This time I bought something small.

Something that fits in a bucket.

In fact, something that IS a bucket.

I got a bucket of hot sauce for my hot sauce lover living in Sweden.

A whole frigging bucket!

You know, in researching hot sauce, I came across some interesting options:

  • Spicy popcorn
  • Labels which seem to question the wisdom of consuming the hot sauce
  • And, hot sauce that comes in phallic shaped bottles

In the end, I chose this bucket.

How many guys can say they got “Hell in a Bucket” from a friend for their birthday?

The Swede can, that’s who!

Save

Giving up sex

So here’s The Deal.

I’m giving up sex for 3 months.

That means three months of no sex, not even a teeny little bit.

Not even the kind that doesn’t “count.”

This means I have to be celibate until January 7, 2018.

Now, there is one exception to this rule:

The Swede.

IF The Swede comes to visit, then my vow of abstinence goes on hiatus.

I rationalize it like this – The Swede happens to be the one HEALTHY friendship I have and therefore shouldn’t be included in my vow of abstinence, which is supposed to weed out the dirty boys and rebels.

I told Tejas about my vow and he just laughed and laughed.

Then he thought about how much bitching he will have to listen to and he STOPPED LAUGHING.

Personally, I think the biggest challenge for me isn’t going to be giving up sex.

No.

It’s going to be giving up the sexting and flirting that goes with it.

Because for me, flirting leads to sexting leads to sex IRL.

So we’re gonna have none of that.

Do you think I will survive?

Nightmare

I had a nightmare.

Not your average wake-up-stressed-out nightmare.

No.

This was a wake-up-barely-breathing nightmare.

I started to sing an ABBA song to myself to calm my nerves.

Waterloo.

Something peppy and upbeat to combat the fear coursing through my body.

“Alexa, turn on the light,” I commanded.

Alexa, that smarmy little bitch, did no such thing.

“Alexa, turn on the light,” I repeated.

My Amazon Echo did not respond.

So I reached over and turned on the light.

Relief.

I dreamt that someone was hurting people and I was chasing it. I cornered it in an old, scary house and looked it in the face.

The face was black, like a dementor from Harry Potter, but gradually a face emerged.

My brother.

That’s when I woke up.

I texted The Swede.

I knew he’d be up at 1 am PST, 10 am Swedish time.

Sure enough, he texted me back.

He calmed me down and settled my nerves.

He didn’t laugh or make fun of me.

It’s as if he sensed that I needed to get it out of my system before I could go back to sleep again.

So he just let me vent.

What can I say?

He’s just an amazing man.

Maybe it’s because he has daughters that he seems particularly in tune with the feminine, my feminine, particularly when I’m freaking out.

But I’ll tell you, had he been in the bed with me, I would have wrapped myself around him and thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

I was SO GRATEFUL!