I worked for 15 hours yesterday. I’ve been yelled at, blamed for killing a machine and a man pulled down his pants and showed all the guests (and me) his white ugly ass at the birthday party that was held at the restaurant yesterday. I think that I deserve more than 3 kr tip for that.
This is what happens when you complain about not getting any nice sunburn, compared to everyone else I’ve been looking like a walking dead girl, not anymore. Well at least my back isn’t white; the front is as white as always. I should have learned from previous years, every year I come back from the first long day at the beach with my back and but so painfully burnt I have to sleep with the fan on full ice power to not die during the night. History has once again repeated itself, history is painful and why do I never learn? After two hours at the beach I said that I should head home but my mom told me that “Saga your as white as always, if you ever want to get some collar you have to stay a bit longer”, she will be the one forced to put Aloe Vera cream on my red burnt back for the next couple of days.
// I need to take a bath in a tub of ice //
(That's Britney Spears on the left)
My dad cried, my mom cried, my sister was mildly interested and I was eating skittles, drinking Smirnoff ice and having the time of my life. The music was a bit O MY GOD ish, the actors especially the actor playing the man named Britney Spears incredible and together it all made the show probably the best show in the world (a new Carlsberg commercial?). And the members (that are still alive) of Queen were the ones playing the instruments, that was quite cool I think, and it gave the show so much more of a meaning. Leaving the theater I felt very content with the evening but I also felt that I should have eaten less skittles. They leave a bit of a burning feeling in you mouth when you eat too many and my tongue looked far from normal afterwards too, but it was so worth it.
// I miss you too //
First the plan was to se the match in a sports bar but practically every bar and restaurant in London were filled witch men and women painted red and white so we decided to head back to hotel to se the match there instead and so we did, adding a pitcher of Pim’s to the equation. To my great joy we found that more than half of the guests who had decided to watch the game at the hotel were German, witch made it possible for me to sheer for Germany without fear for my life. 4-1 (should be 4-2, even the Germans most agree to that) and our plan to go to Trafalgar square to see the celebrating Englishmen was shattered. Instead we only saw the Englishmen walking home with their flags wrapped around them, heads sadly bent, most of them with battle wounds as proof that that they had screamed and fought as hard as they could for their country those hours of the game. Also we saw, and heard, some brave (read extremely dumb assed) Germans walking around alone, scattered, and just asking people to beat them up.
// What happened to me? Why the hell am I watching football? You’re messing with my head. //
I took the tube then the buss to my most beloved, adored and wonderful best friend, my own Masha. I felt so proud that I could find the way all by my self, and also during this little journey I finally understood the “Min the Gap” t-shirts. I was about to go mad every time the speaker voice announced the warning (for those who don’t know, that is every minute) and in the end I was thinking of not minding the gap just to defy the voice. Well after that beginning to my night in London Masha picked me up at the bus station and took me to the apartment she was living in. Short break. Then of to the buss again, and then the tube. MIND THE GAP! PLEASE MIND THE GAP!! At the train station Masha’s promoter picked us up and showed us to the club. Outside there was a long line of people, not the kind of line you just have to wait 10 minutes in, more like 4 hours. But we just walked up to the door and the bouncers that before looked like the meanest guys on earth just smiled and opened the read velvet band that was surrounding the entrance and let us in, SCORE! Already at that point I was sold, star struck, such a little nobody in the important peoples world, I wasn’t fitting in but I loved every minute. Entering the club we walked straight up to the VIP area where we were introduced to everybody, double cheek kisses flying everywhere; star struck again, everyone acting like mega stars. The night passed on, and so did the free drinks, everything was for free in the VIP area (someone paid in advance, remind me to send him or her a thank you e-mail). We danced to music we usually would have rejected as totally crappy but in this environment it worked. And then we danced, and danced and danced a bit more until my time was out and Cinderella had to rush back in a taxi because the morning after I was going up at 7.30 to see the rest of London.
// I didn’t see one really hot Englishman or woman during my visit, this has left me wondering, do they exist? //
