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. . .

The Swede

The Swede has been texting me and it’s been more fun than a tornado in a trailer park.

He went out drinking with a friend and I got fantastic text messages from him as he drank beer.

He asked me if I was interested in visiting Sweden.

Technically, 60% of my DNA is from Scandinavia, and it would love to visit the homeland.

There’s the Vasa Museum, all the canals to navigate, and the ABBA Museum.

You know I can’t miss the ABBA Museum!

Sadly, I have no plans to visit Sweden in the near future, but it’s definitely on my list of places to go.

And it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump to Finland where I can sleep in a glass igloo under the aurora borealis.

Sigh.

It’s hard to not imagine snuggling under the glass dome with The Swede.

And, of course, there’s the saunas in Finland.

Nothing like a nice hot naked sweat followed by a giant leap into the freezing outdoors.

Hey, it’s GOOD for you!

Perhaps I will talk my sister into a trip to Sweden next year.

Our last big trip was Scotland in 2008.

I have to admit, it would be nice to see The Swede in his territory.

Nice to see The Swede fullstop.

Late for work

IMG_7899“Are you home?” The Hunk asked.

“Yes,” I replied. I was just getting ready to leave the house to head to work in the morning.

“Good. I’m down the street on a job site by you,” he said.

Oh joy! The Hunk is close to me and wanted to ping me to say hi.

Then he asked, “Do you want to come by the job site?”

Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Sure,” I said casually.

So I drove down to his job site and watched him lumber towards me, all 6’4” of him.

I was sitting in my car making small talk with him when suddenly the urge to hug him hit me.

So I hopped out of my car announcing that I needed a hug.

And he complied.

He stooped down to hug me, making me feel quite delicate and ladylike (when we all know I’m rather like an Amazon daredevil).

I thrilled in the moment.

He was warm and hard, just like a guy should be.

I melted into his chest and held on to the hug for as long as I possibly could.

If he only knew the thoughts I have about him. What I think of when I see him walking. Where I imagine him putting his big, huge hands….

These were the things going through my mind as I hugged him.

And that, my friends, is how I wound up 45 minutes late for work on Wednesday.