Monday, September 22, 2008

Huah.

It's 5:40 in the morning. There's an Indian woman in the kitchen. I think she's doing the dishes.
Exactly how does one end up with an Indian woman in the kitchen, you say? I'll tell you how. First, you find a friend online. Then you go live with said friend and his family for six months. I'm sure there are other ways to do it too, but that's how I went about and it went quite well. The key is of course to make sure your friend a) is an Indian woman or b) has one in the household, or the plan will fail miserably. This particular Indian woman can be found in Montreal, which is conveniently situated on the wrong fucking continent if you're a Swede and would like to go home occasionally to, say, fetch a videogame or change your socks or eat decent meatballs once in a while. Good thing I brought lots of socks and Gamezone isn't far.

So yeah, I'm a Swede living with five Indians in Canada. This is my blog and I'll do whatever I want with it. Like, if I want to put an image in your head of a raven with a mustache, that's what I'll do. If I want to write poems about ambulances, I might not, just to spite you.
A short introduction for those of you who don't know me:
Physically, I'm a 25 year old female carbon-based life form, overweight and kinda short. I dress like a ten year old boy who sniffs way too much glue. Not much to brag about there. Mentally, I'm ageless, sexless, and most importantly remorseless. Except the last part was a lie. I enjoy videogames, drawing, writing, reading, horse riding, thinking, martial arts and conversations about trodding barefoot on jellyfish. I'm incredibly socially awkward and get along way better with animals than with people. Bruce Lee is my personal hero, Acid Bath is my favourite band, and I like to go barefoot whenever I can.

That's all you get for now. A taste of things to come. A teaser, a prelude, a- uh, whatever, I need to sleep.

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