Well, I like Whiskey and scotch, well all things liquor really. I discovered that the bastards over in Scotland keep the best stuff for themselves, same thing with the French and their wines. Its not like they export all their Beaujolais Cru. They hog it all for themselves!
In 1998, Iceland exported one of their finest men. Pretty odd thing to do in a retro perspective. Or I'm just biased on the account of being married to the bloke. Anyhow, I'm happy I found him, but I really, really would like to move to Iceland. He on the other hand, is somewhat more prune to stay in Sweden. So, what to do? Start a facebook group to get him exported back to Iceland of course! He's got only one year left in med school, then there's nothing keeping him from moving. Do you want to help me convince him that moving back to Iceland is a good thing?
Here's the facebook group:
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=168028109059

Cheers! /Malin

Had an awesome time last night, dressed up as the assasins "Hazel and Cha Cha" from the Umbrella Academy. :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this is what my head looked like before it was all messed up. Cat NOT impressed.

 

Found some photos on the net today:
http://www.cffc.se/bilder/2009/halloweenstudio/8352
http://www.cffc.se/bilder/2009/halloweenstudio/8353

On my way home from Iceland this weekend, I found this bottle on the airport in Norway. This must be the most confusing warning sign I have ever seen."WARNING Drink then swallow" how else would you do it?

I should have learned, after all its not my first time in the blue lagoon. But when your on the way out into the pit, there is no sign reminding you to bring your towel. On the other hand, when you are on your way back from the bath and the showers, there's always a rude woman standing there, refusing you access to your locker.  Apparently, god forbid, you're wet after showering. She will the refer to a sign on the wall, visible from the showers but not from the lockers and saying that you will simply have to stand there naked and dry off. Rude pigstickles, stick a sign on the right side of the wall will ya.

We where invited to an October bash this weekend. dressed as "bavarian girl" and "Icelander in lederhoosen" we arrived to the party, ate all the sausages and passed out like real genuine Germans. Pétur sighed "this is not germany, there is no SS pylsur" with an Icelandic accent before he started snoring.
I made him take a photo of me before we started drinking, after all, this is the only memory that will last of the evening, hence it was a good evening.

My next appearance in cross country dressing will be on friday and saturday 23:rd and 24:th when I will be dressing up as a drunk Swede in Reykjavik. As a good Swede, I will get the knee-socks out, call myself Inga and insist on the virtues of mixing beer, spirits and whine.Make sure to keep the wafflewagon open, I will be there :)