Sunday, June 21, 2015

The Not-Obessions Confessions

Yes, this is really happening.  I haven't done an obsessions post in a while- not that I don't have a whole litany of music, books, stuff, that I could prattle on about.  But instead I'd like to take a wander through the things that I am currently not loving.  For serious, not loving.

Let's start with old Norwegian men on bikes.

Calm down and lemme 'splain.  My wee little dog has a problem with bikes.  Not that he hates them, he just wants to eat them.  And not that he wants to eat the persons pedaling, no- he wants to eat the bike itself.

So. When Henry and I go for walks around town- around a town where there are many many people on bikes- it's more of an exercise in mind-reading, anticipation, situational awareness, agility, and strength than an exercise in actual walking.  If I see a bike approaching, I can corral the dog to the side of the path and hush him, tell him no, generally try to control him. Which is not easy with a 50 pound blond fur bomb.

And that's when the magic happens, because the charming old Norwegian men, on their charming Norwegian bikes, will slow down.  Yep, they see me with this dog who could qualify as his own circus act, each of us struggling against the other… and they slow down.  To watch.  Yes. Yes, old Norwegian men, that is exactly what I want you to do- slow down to watch the madness that is my dog unfold and prolong his outrageous desperation to eat your vehicle.  Do that.  I really really dig it when you do.

Next up- old Norwegian men in bars.  Especially the super drunk ones. Especially the super drunk ones who think that it's okay to refer to my partner as my "daddy" while manhandling me, grabbing my arm and jerking me around to face him while he's breathing liquid death into my face.  Actually, guy, it's not okay.  And you know what else- that's MY ass that you're grabbing thankyouverymuch, and if you do it again you're going to find a tactically placed knee in your general groin area. Private forking property, buddy.

Or should I say Grandpa?

This book.  Sort of instills in me the simultaneous desire to vomit and weep.  How did this happen? How did the first three happen?!?

I definitely don't love the people who open doors while talking to, and looking at, the people behind them.  Look where you are going, folks, there might just be a girl with a dog… directly in your path.  If I had a dollar for the number of times I've been slammed into by a glass door- only to be given an affronted look by the person who slammed it into me- in the past several weeks, I wouldn't be considering a life of crime to solve my financial woes.

This song.  It was getting nonstop airtime when I left the States a little over a month ago.  It is now getting nonstop airtime in Norway.  I literally cannot escape it. (Also- note here that it's definitely part of the 50 Shades soundtrack).

I'd bring up the apparently never-ending winter, but I think that's pushing it.  I suppose I should have anticipated that when I decided to move to just shy of the Arctic Circle.  And I probably should have packed more warm clothing.  And fewer dresses.

And for now, until next time, that's all dear ones.  Be good on this Summer (laughable) Solstice and this Father's Day.





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