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May 05, 2005
I want some chocolate milk!*
I'm feeling as whiny today as I look from this picture taken a couple weeks ago. I'm not sure why I have that look on my face—was it the water, was Jenny yelling at me, was I feeling burdened by my heavy (yet delightfully blue) bag? The whole will never know.
Let me list my grievances:
1. I have HAD IT with this whole thesis project. I'm tired of working on a project that is stupid, that no one will read, and that isn't even contributing to a degree that will help me get a job. The rough draft is due tomorrow and I just want to turn it in and leave the country, being pretty sure that our rough draft is good enough to skate by.
2. While Kungsmarksvagen is definintely the ghetto of Karlskrona, we don't qualify as "mafia controlled" like some other Swedish towns.
Some small and medium-sized towns in Sweden are effectively controlled by Mafia-style gangs, a new report from the National Criminal Investigation Department to European police organisation Europol.
Swedish television company SVT reports that threats and extortion have increased tenfold in the past decade, with certain places suffering particularly from the new trend.
Södertälje, near Stockholm, is one of the towns that police say has a large organised crime problem, with protection rackets and effectively controlling the town’s pubs and bars.
Jeez, if I have to live in a ghetto, I should at least get a taste of The Sopranos, which I'm missing in this crappy apartment.
3. I have TOO MUCH STUFF. There is no way I am going to be able to get everything back to the US without either a) paying $1000 dollars in shipping, b) hiring a car to get me to the airport and paying $500 in extra baggage fees, or c) meeting my fairy godmother who will magically transport my suitcases home. And my email messages to DHL, UPS, and FedEX have not been answered, despite their promises of a 1-day turnaround. Bastards.
* The title of today's entry dates back about 10 years to when my family was living in Japan. We were invited to Admiral Fujii's home in the mountains. It was an incredible place, built right in the middle of a ski slope (or rather, the ski slope was built around it). There were several families who went, all sleeping in tight quarters in the Japanese style. One family had a small boy of about six years, who was a spoiled brat. He had brought a whole range of noisy toys, the most loathsome being a tow truck that shrilled "hook 'em up, move 'em out" over and over and over. This small boy, Michael was his name, was physically incapable of saying anything directly. Instead of saying "I'd like to play outside, please" he would sidle up to his parents and plaintively bleat the request. In 3 longs days I never heard him use another tone of voice. As annoying as everyday 6-year olds can be, just think of the added horror of constant whininess. To make it even more obnoxious, his parents never reprimanded him—they just went along with it like poor Michael had no other choice.
At first it was amusing—like a game called "What Will Michael Whine About Next?" By the second night, however, I had enough. We were all pooling food, so there were no items that belonged to me, or to Matthew. He had been drinking little boxes of chocolate milk, and there was only one left. I was sitting at the table and saw what was coming. Pre-empting him, I said to no one in particular, "I think I'll have some chocolate milk" prompting him to almost scream in horror (but still in that whiny voice) "I want some chocolate milk!" Of course, his mother couldn't take away the chocolate milk that had so clearly been claimed by me, but she also had never denied Michael anything. It was a delightful fix, watching her waver back and forth.
I can't remember how it ended—I probably relented and let that little twit have the chocolate milk. But now whenever anyone in my family gets a little whiny, someone in the room is bound to cry out "I want some chocolate milk!" in that same Michael-like voice. Or perhaps just say, "Ok, Michael." It's enough to snap anyone out of a pity party.
Comments
I believe his name was Michael, and you described that scene perfectly. I remember the horror I felt when you declared your desire for chocolate milk, and how I tried to catch your eye and squelch the event. You were almost 18,and quite skilled at avoiding my eye at any given moment. As horrified as I was, it was riotously hilarious, and I couldn't help but laugh. As I recall, our entire family had to quickly exit to see 'something' outside in order not to create a very uncomfortable last two days!
Posted by: Anonymous at May 5, 2005 11:00 PM
OOOO OOO OOO! If you get the Sopranos DVD I REALLY REALLY want it!
Also, I decided not to go to Oland because it is too long of a trip. What say you, roya, Mandy, me, and whoever else break out the tents and do some camping. I think we can convince Roya to take at least one night off.
Posted by: kevin at May 6, 2005 01:01 AM
I heart the Michael story! V. entertaining :)
--red
Posted by: Anonymous at May 6, 2005 09:42 PM
