Crustaceans

Hello, my slightly neglected blog!

I've been home for a week now and I've been pretty busy all of the time, which has suited me perfectly. I miss camp life in the sense that I miss having people I like around me, and a lake within walking distance, and the possibility to lock myself in my room which can be as dirty and chaotic as I wish.

I do not miss waking up at 7.10 and snoozing to 7.14 every day, then walking through an unbearably cold forest (which within five hours will heat up to 30 degrees) and cooking porridge for spoilt brats.

So, the last week was to some extent spent in Ylva's grandparents summerhouse on Österlen. Malin, Sofia, Ylva and I fled there to avoid the shock that re-adjusting to the urban environment requires. Or, at the least we postponed it. I think I'm there now, at the shock-part of it all. Anyway, our three days were spent eating, driving around the countryside, and playing Trivial Pursuit. In other words, it was lovely. The fact that we had a rental car is amazing because it made me feel very adult. It was also extremely convenient, since we could go grocery shopping and stuff whenever we wanted to.

Saturday was Joey's crayfish-party, where I met some nice people and some not-so-nice people. This one guy, A, seemed great at first. He poured me a drink and teased my in a flirty manner. He seemed confident, witty and cool, and I almost fell in love right there and then despite his boring looks. After about 20 minutes, he told me he had a car and a motorbike. I was like "Yeah... great...?" and then offered me to go take a look at the car. I didn't quite understand what he meant so I declined the invitation, after which he offered me to go take a look at the backseat of his car. At this point I was signalling to Simon to come and save me, and he did. However, A started party-stalking me, so everytime I sat down to talk with someone, he was there, asking if he could hold my hand or have my number. Here's the really embarassing part: he has my number. I don't know what I was thinking (probably something along the lines of "I need to get me some" and "Maybe he's nice when he's sober") but I felt I couldn't be mean to him. After all, Joey had said that they were old friends, and I think I might have been afraid to hurt someone whom she cared about. Oh, who am I kidding, I'm a pussy. Need to toughen up.

If he calls, I'll pretend I only speak Polish. Or maybe I'll tell him I'm really a man.

Camp pics for you!

Benjamin aka Viagra and I in the middle of a water war:


The Chef and Malin:


Ylva, Malin and I (we're all very drunk):