"You cowardly Swede!"

When Sweden are playing England in the European championships in football there are few things that I need to keep in mind.
1) My English friends assume I cheer for Sweden.
2) When Sweden wins I realise I did secretly cheer for them.
3) The bed is now "English territory" and I'm not welcome there.

During this championship I've also realised something else. It's incredibly hard for me to describe which country I cheer for. I mean, I'd love for Denmark to win, but wouldn't it be fun if the Republic of Ireland won? (Of course, they won't now since they're technically out, but still.) I don't cheer for Sweden, mostly because it is Sweden, but if we should win then I'm super excited. (I almost got beaten up by my friends in 2002 for not cheering for Sweden.) I don't mind if Germany wins because they're playing like a well-oiled machine and they're very fun to watch. Nor do I mind if Poland or Ukraine win. Hrm, maybe it'd be easier to say that I don't want England, France or Spain to win. Then again, I like Spain, technically. Always have done. Hrm.

To clearify this: I've been a supporter of Holland since 2000. (That's 12 years in case you can't count.) In the beginning it was because they had some really cute players, now I suspect it's mainly because they play in orange. It's such an underestimated colour, orange. 

I guess it's fair to say that I like the teams who don't have a bunch of over-payed pansies playing. The teams who understand that it's not a one-man-show, it's actually a team sport and it needs a team effort. Break them down and shape them into pieces of lego. Make them into one, mold them. Give them some cake and make them relax and I promise you that if you won't win, well then at least you had some nice cake.

May the best man win...

The European championships in football starts today. Yes, that's "football" and not "soccer" for two main reasons. 1) It's played with the feet. 2) "Soccer" sounds like "socker" which is Swedish for "sugar" and they're not really playing for sugar now, are they?

This year I've decided to place a bet on the winner. Just for fun. Me and Mr. English decided to go for a team each and then I sort of had to get my sister and my parents involved for no real reason what so ever. My initial thing was to go for Germany, but my sister decided to bet on that one. My dad was going for them aswell, but then decided on Spain. I figured that if I let my mother in she will bet on something like Greece because she "likes the country", but she went for France. Mr. English felt a bit patriotic so he's betting on England because "they're hungry for it". Yea... such a great reason really. I'm betting on Holland myself (yes, that's "Holland" and not "the Netherlands" - deal with it). Mostly because I think they have an honest chance, although I really hope Denmark kicks their arse in the opening match.

Sweden? Oh please. If I'd bet on Sweden I might as well take up a lighter and burn the money straight away - it'd save me the trouble of going to the shop to place the bet. Like I told my mother on the phone: "It's quite obvious who the patriot is here - it sure as hell ain't any of us!".

Tribute to nonsense

It's hard to write things when you have it in your head that everything you write is completely useless. That you're quite average and the things you put down on paper (well sort of) is incredibly uninteresting to anyone but yourself. It sort of puts a filter over everything you want to write and you end up with nothing at all. Maybe the voice is right. Maybe my stuff is completely mundane and average and boring. It might always be useless. Maybe there's never a chance that I'll be an author. 

You know what? I don't think I wanna listen to that voice anymore. It bores me.
I think that from now on it will be green shoes with bowties and cupcakes all around!

Flammable

There is something terribly addicting about checking flights and hotels. I don't really know why, but I always enjoy dreaming about going to different destinations and planning trips with detail after detail after detail. When it comes to taking the actual trip I always enjoy it. The huffing and puffing when checking in, the sighing in the queue to the security check, the prodding at the security check. (Don't tell the guard that as far as you know you didn't have any knives on you this morning, for some reason they don't appreciate that.) I enjoy watching people pass by as I'm sitting in the lounge waiting for my flight to come in and I like to fly in a can packed like a sardin. Although I have a habit of wanting to discuss things like "if we should crash now I will feel satisfied with my life" and "isn't it a wonder that something made of metall, such as this plane, can stay in the air?" while being in the air. Hrm, maybe this is why Mr. English doesn't like to fly. Maybe I don't help his fear when I discuss the magics of aerodynamics...? I should probably smuggle some sleeping pills into his drink if we go somewhere by flight. Or... I could use a sledgehammer. It's easier to get one than coming over some horse tranquilizer.