An immigrant in Sweden, prt. V

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  • When all my co-workers, bosses, bosses’ bosses, their past-middle-aged wives and their 9 year old’s whole heartedly sang ‘Chug it down! Chug it down! Sing ‘hup-de-la-la-la-loo-lah-la’ Chug it doooooooowwwwn!’
  • Kraftskiva fest. So just vodka then? I thought this was supposed to be about crayfish?
  • Swedes always stand to the right on the escalators, leaving me and my toned tush to climb 60stairs up to heaven, uh the light. Yeah right, screw that. Gimme some room on the right ya old fart with your 4 bags, move!
  • I haven’t had to work out. I live on a freaking hill. It’s tough enough
  • Still, we’re all in the gym about 4 times a week.
  • Because: Semla buns have forever glued themselves on my thighs.
  • I’ve actually never had kötbullar. Please don’t deport me.
  • That freaking personnummer. Why? Why? WHYYYY!
  • My happiness on a December morning when the first snowflakes fall.
  • Biking for 40 days through snow and -18C
  • My messed up collection of shoes in March.
  • My grumpiness and whining when it still snows in APRIL
  • 25th of the month, paaaaay day
  • ‘You don’t have knackebröd? But… then… what are we going to eat?’
  • December: Stop the darkness
  • June: no darkness at all



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