U to the V

It was -almost- tragic. They way it happened. We didn't even go out. No "ungdomsgård" or anything. We had our new pet Stephen over for a visit again. And then there was nothing left to do but to drink Absinthe. We looked good though. We looked damn good in the UV-light. 

The Cinnamon Mists

Ah yes, once again we managed to walk/run/crawl all the long and danger-ridden way to the SlaughterHouse. But instead of the familiar three people standing outside, and the dubstep-drenched half empty dancefloor, a wall of humans met us around the corner from work. They filled the very streets as far as the eye could see. Round about that time we were all pretty intoxicated so I'm guessing our eyes could see about 15-20 meters. They were all waving white sheets of paper in the air, screaming angry at the poor little power abusing men with guard-tags on their jackets. Yes, the failure of the so called "ticket system" was obvious as a wet perch in your face. It had been a concert, you see. Justice had been smothering half of Stockholms hipster-crowd's ears with noise and lights, and the official after party was now ruining a perfectly calm every-day-night at Slakthuset. We had tickets to this "event" too. Yes, we bought them online, like the law-abiding citizens we are, in hopes that the entrance to warmth and Fireball-filled bars would go smooth and painless. How wrong we were. One hour later all hopes of memory losses were gone, as we all sobered up long enough to start fights and then realize how silly they were. No, the conditioned reflex of twitch-like dance movement when merely thinking about Cinnamon gloriousness were relegated to the forgotten and distant past. Oh how the office and it's comforting fluorescent white walls seemed like heaven at that point. Maybe things would have been better if we never left? Maybe, just maybe we would in fact DIE out there in the inhumanly long cue. Maybe the back of some half-drunken-soon-to-be-sober hipster would be the last thing our eyes would rest on....

I know I got you all worried now, but fear not. We survived, all of us. Well, I can't say we wont have permanent psychological issues after the events that followed, but we are all still bodily intact. No lost limbs. There is always something to be grateful about here in life.

Finally inside the world became a bar filled with cinnamon shots. And then later, the world became only a cinnamon mist. It was tänderna i tapeten people, it was armbågen i golvet. It was epic.

The say we dance on Fridays

It's more moving to music than dancing, but yeah, they are kind of right. This epic Friday I managed to lure the extensive crowd of 9 peeps out for mischief on the town. What started as epic ended in something we mere humans don't even have a name for. Yes, it was THAT awesome.

And yes. Fireball was involved. You might even say it was the glue that held the entire mismatched group of geeks and Fat Sharks together. That and the love. The love for fun, dance, music and just simply each other. There is a lot of love. Fridays is the day of love. And as my genius brother put it, spring is kinda like a long Friday, where the best of the year is yet in front of us.

Ah. Soon. So. Very. Soon. Summer.

The Wednesday that kinda didn't happen

Everyone knows that what you can't remember didn't happen. It's a fact. Kinda like the cake that no one see you eating is no cake. It is known. So, technically last night didn't happen. Or half of it anyway. I actually recall ending the night trying to get cash for the taxi, failing, being really really upset to the point of screaming and hitting things, trying another machine, succeeding and getting way too much cash then finally giving almost all of it to the very rude driver. I think it came up to about double the normal cost. But then I also live comfortably in my world of denial, it works almost as good as actual memory loss. So yeah, that didn't happen. What also did not happen was half of the things I said to people I don't know. The words "No, I say horses are just cows with long legs!!!!!" didn't come from my mouth. No sir. Neither did my not so charming lie of being a heroin addict. So. I'm fine! Woke up with my alarm in my hands, two hours late for work. For some reason I had to eat painkillers for lunch.