In the company of women

Has landed after a drive that almost can be described as riding on a giant snorloska. Two – three centimeters of snow that, under the influence of 2 nice greenhouse effect degrees, melted within a few hours gives me that feeling. Going up the hill was an adventure in itself and I decided to take the easiest route, via trench.
Already, I drove one pair of wheels in the ditch to get no foothold at all while a tsunami gushed from the rock and slush molded behind the car, I will gather all the parts that came loose from the base (vehicle 's yes…) tomorrow, and see if I can glue gun with glue garbage cans that stood in the way.

Tonight it was supposed to be the male / female meal. And it was almost; tjejmiddag more and Pontus. He is regarded not as a girl, but since he had the good taste to be mostly quiet (an example, many men should follow…read and learn) and with growing horror and fascination just listen to our snack, it felt very feminine yet. At times we forgot enough away that he sat with us and possibly screened we talk as much as you might want to do in a young man's companion. Ack yes, it does not kill makes. He was in all cases 19 years of youth before he was destroyed for all time.
I also think that it was entertaining to see how his face have matched the color scheme from rosenskindad to dark purple. The skin tone he adopted when Denada highly declared that she had just managed to put tits in the sauce and potatisgratängen was priceless. He subsequently fled the field and went to his girlfriend, and his think I can not get home until Denada gone back to her tomorrow.

And, it was actually the first time I met my dear medbloggerska Denada in reality. What a gas! She is a person that can not be described. She has to be experienced. A small amount of her in her reflected blogs, but it is just the tip of the iceberg. A fragment of the real thing.
You know how it is when you formed an opinion of a man online, and although we sat and chatted for hours on Fäjset I never would have imagined this.
And I'm not very easily impressed.
For this man, I was mesmerized.
Tonight, I have heard anecdotes that would make most of you blush, or replace trousers.
I tried to persuade her to blog about some of the things she experienced and narrated tonight and I hope she makes it. The stories are too good not to be told to all.
I will not even try to recount some of the things she said because I can not do the stories justice, do not tell the same vivid way as she and I have no right to steal her thunder and. This is her story, that she may dispense in installments if we have a hell of a lucky.

My dearest BFF got the world crashing dinner and I thanked her by putting rhubarb in her laundry room and wash all dirty clothes I've collected on me since July.
I would have expected her to be a little whimpering heap of emotions (possibly bortsvedda eyebrows) and that the apartment would be a war zone, after the fire of the week. But no…apart from a closed area (She may possibly have borrowed Denadas barricades from Valentine's Day) so everything looked to be in top shape, including the attendant self.
I thought it was odd that I did not feel any smell of smoke? The explanation was in the middle of the living room in the form of an infernal machine which was presented as Rökätaren. I kept carefully away from it and just stared at it from a distance, mostly because I was not entirely clear on what else it could possibly eat. Already, for although it was quite small, I know from experience that it is jävligare to be bitten by a dachshund than a Rottweiler and I am a natural talent in paranoid skepticism. Especially if the machines emit small puffs of citrus odor.
Sort of like a carnivorous plant that emits sweet secretions of insects to land on the. Then it's good-night.

Actually, I have posted some pictures from dinner or when I jealously sat and watched while Nettan and Denada emptied wine bottles, but now the clock a lot and I have to protest opened my bottle of wine (I would have drunk in Nettan tonight, and slept, if there were any justice in the world and if the temperature on the mountain was more or less compatible with the weatherman wild guesses) so I spend time on instead of trying to fall asleep without sleeping pills and accompanying manic shopping on eBay.
I had bought a small bunch of tulips for the hostess, which felt right sissy when Denada came with a fire extinguisher of a size that it could eliminate the great London fire of the history books.

Now: sängfösardrinken which I have named Quantity, in short,. It may be that the glass I found in the bar-cum once housed one or two goldfish.