Ok, so it has now been empirically proven that lots of alcohol + cold weather = one sick puppy. I am once again under the weather, and hope that this time my fever won’t reach blood boiling temperatures it did two weeks ago, and that I won’t have bone-cracking convulsions. I would also like to forego fainting in the arms of a middle aged nurse at the doc’s reception, as well as having a litre of blood sucked from my barely visible veins. But since this time I probably won’t be going to the doc’s I think I’ll be doing all the fainting in the quiet comfort of my home, where there isn’t going to be anyone to turn me over on my side to stop me from choking on my own tongue.
But except for gettin sick as a dog the weekend went by rather nicely. Friday was a good day, if a little spoiled by my irritable little mood swings. They went away, however, and we were able to enjoy the spectacular fireworks with my girlfriend. So yeah, the fireworks. We were supposed to watch them with a friend, but the trams to where they would be watching were packed, as more than 130,000 people attended, so we had to go to another locale. It was no less packed, but at least we were able to carve out some lebensraum. The actual fireworks were represented by 5 crews, and were quite good. The teams were a bit too equal though. There’s only so much you can do with fireworks, I guess. As a result you just grow numb and dazed by the 3rd show, and nothing really impresses you anymore. The last guy would have had to detonate a small yield nuclear device in the skies above Helsinki in order to properly separate himself from his predecessors. But that was precisely what he failed to do, so the crowds remained unimpressed. Another funny thing was that the apocalyptic cannonade was accomplished by music. Yeah, you were supposed to hear friggin classical (at least in most cases) through the thunder of exploding fireworks. And the music was such a miserable tiny thing compared to the majestic explosions of fireworks. I don’t know, maybe were we closer it would have been more impressive (Dimer, feedback on that one please), but from farther away it just felt stupid, and not planned out, sorta like someone just left their stereo turned on by accident while the fireworks went off.
So that was that for Friday. Saturday, after naps and frolicks, and then more naps, we remembered that our friend Esko was having a “back to Finland” party, in honor of his return to Finland after spending a year in France. I must confess that I didn’t much feel like going to the party, since I was all drowsy and mellow under the blanky, and it was raining cats and dogs outside. However, Esko’s place is only about 100m from mine, so off we went, trampling into the torrential downpour. And I am glad we went. I met some interesting folks, and drank some interesting things. A bit too many interesting things, maybe. The only downer were a bunch of grumpy pinko commies that formed a little circle jerk group at the living room table and started trying to provoke people into having an ass licking competition a political debate. I was obviously the target, what with my IDF shirt proclaming my stance, and my ethnicity (i.e. Russian) making me a good target for another pointless debate du jour (i.e. South Ossetia). I was quite unfazed, but the fucking trollops upset my girlfriend. However, all things considered that was but a minor speck on the face of what was an otherwise good party. The following morning I was suffering tremendously, and still am, from a sprained shoulder. Doing anything with my right hand is an excercise in excruciating pain. Yes, no masturbation for me. And how did I achieve this? I either sprained it armwrestling (sigh, don’t ask. It’s all girlie’s fault) or then falling down a slippery cliff slope when trying to navigate home via shortcut (don’t remember that one, girly told me. Must be her fault as well). I bet this was all just some sort of sinister plot to stop me from wasting my precious seed while she’s away for the week.
Sunday was a lost day, filled with lots of wailing and gnashing of teeth, and inane TV shows. I also gave the finger to the diet and gorged on chips and dip as my girlfriend watched disapprovingly from the side. I can’t imagine how bad the hangover would have been were I still smoking.
Yes. Now it’s almost closing time and I will soon be free to go home and wallow in my sickness. But before that glorious hour arrives I will spread the links that have accumulated in my bookmarks. Some good old fashioned critique of Islam first: apparently honor killing is a “centuries old tradition” and is as such acceptable. Also quoted are some annual numbers in honor killings, although in reality they are probably at least ten times more frequent. 280 for last year is probably closer to Sweden than to reality. Staying on the subject, does anyone remember the “Undercover Mosque” documentary that originally aired on Channel 4 in Britland? The documentary (here’s a Wikipedia article summing it up) presents film footage gathered from 12 months of secret investigation into mosques throughout Britain… And now there’s a second part out, Undercover Mosque: The Return. Think things have changed? Think again. Here’s an article on the new documentary and the documentary itself. Ok, didn’t mean to bum you all out, so here’s a bit of Belorussian know-how: a cucumber picking machine.