I guess it's all a bit more close to home when they close down the street next to my office...
So on Sunday it was six degrees outside. Not sixteen, not twenty-six, but six. It’s fucking June and for some reason beyond my knowledge, the temperature is the same as it was here as when I left for Singapore on JANUARY SECOND. That’s fucked up.
I came home to Stavanger last Thursday, and apart from temperatures suggesting that hell is about to freeze over, it’s been quite nice. My bed is fluffy and comfortable (perhaps a pathetic excuse to spend copious amounts of time in it), I’m still getting along really well with the family and the tap water is just splendid.
Given my rather dismal current financial situation, however, I’m working as much as possible at the restaurant. That’s right, I’m back to waiting tables. I have avoided any major accidents thus far but in memory of my fuckups of last summer I’m including a list of my three most humiliating incidents from last year.
Hopefully I am older and wiser by now.
|Last night, I met 3 Norwegian girls and 4 British guys at our guesthouse and after playing so many drinking games that they ran out of Ankor Beer, we went a pub and then finally a Khmer disco with the waitress from the guesthouse. It was pretty awesome, complete with traditional dancing and Khmer pop music.|
Veronika, one of the Norwegian girls told us the most awful story about her travelling mate. The two of them were supposed to travel together for 6 months, but the girl got terribly homesick after only 2 weeks, and went back home after a month. When she arrived home, however, thrilled to see her boyfriend and family, it turned out that her boyfriend had gotten her best friend pregnant and the day after, her aunt died.
If that isn't the worst welcome home EVER, I don't know what is.
Now I'm back in reality - sitting in my New Product Development class back in Singapore and waiting to hold a presentation on something I don't have the slightest idea about...