the swedes

On Friday, I went to the pop-in with a two Americans I just met. It was a good group. Some friendly Swedes who spoke good English sat down next to us. One of them, I think her name was Elena, especially took to us. She told me something along the lines of: I know you have a certain stereotype of us Swedes, but we’ll not all like that (she, in fact, did not fit the stereotype at all). I told her not to worry, and that I wasn’t too hung up on that image of the Swedish. She pointed to her friend, however, and noted that she fit it much more, being blond and big breasted. She attracts all sorts of weird guys, Elena told me. Well, these Swedes, they invited us out to party, and at first I was down, but I decided that I’d catch the metro instead. Jared, however—who joined us later in the night—went with them, and got invited to a party that happened yesterday.

This party was in my hood, in the 13e. After boozing at bit at the Motel, Jackie and co. and I took the metro down there and met Jared after some difficulties finding the place. Before that, we found an open store and I bought a desperado. A desperado is a beer mixed with a little tequila that has a nice 5.9% alcohol ratio. It tastes like soda, I like them a lot.

The party was very Nordic and Germanic: Swedes, Austrians, Germans. There was also a douchey British guy and an Australian girl. Speaking of the word douche. I haven’t had to explain it yet to a French person, but I imagine that will be a good conversation.

Many people remarked that I looked like Napoleon Dynamite. I haven’t heard that since high school. Well, I guess my hair is getting longer, and now I’m wearing metal aviators. I don’t know what to think.

Either way, I felt very international. We stayed until the metros opened again, at 5.30am. Chez-moi, I made myself a sandwich and wrote Ben an incoherent e-mail.