This is a dancefloor docu-soap!

Back once again for the renegade master...

I am listening to Alcazar as I type. I *heart* Alcazar. Their song 'Alcastar' is a moment of sheer pop wisdom and how it did not win in 2005 at Melodifestival is a travesty of unparallelled proportion. (Apart from Shirley losing, obv).

Mad mad few days. Albert, Ulla's eldest son, graduated from "hogskolan" this week, which is like a further education college from what I can gather. So there was a big party on Thursday after his graduation ceremony, photos of which I will post in a bit. It was Swedo-tastic, and I met some nice people. I then passed out very early on due to overconsumption of 7% pear cider.

I was also cacking it about speaking Swedish. My passive Swedish is much better than it was, but me actually MAKING THOSE SOUNDS MYSELF?? Are you quite mad?

Ulla's parents came up from Lund. Which was a docu-soap in itself. Poor Ulla. She really did all she could to make it nice for them, and of course, it wasn't enough. Sometimes I am glad I have no parents :o) Then she had to meet her ex-husband's mother. Another 'good look' moment. She's a trooper is our Ulla.

So I went into town and bought some stuff yesterday, which was a bit mad since I am more skint than a ho with a chastity belt. But I was feeling a bit 'blah' and felt retail was the way forward.

I got the 2nd Bridget Jones book, and went to Ahlens record store where my eye was caught by a double CD of Anni-Frid Lyngstad's early Swedish hits (Frida from Abba to those not in the know). I was in the queue and then it looked like I was jumping in, so I let the other person go in front, which ended up in a mad British-esque 'No, no! After YOU!' moment. Then he said 'Oh what did you buy?' Me: 'Frida'. Him: 'Oh she has a new CD coming out! Maybe they have it! Shall we ask?' Me: 'Erm. OK!'

So we went and asked. Clocking a man buying a Frida CD is pretty much like clocking a man buying 'Tom of Finland: An Illustrated Guide'. So though they had no new Frida :o( he said 'If you are going out tonight, go to Connections!'. Ding-a-dong. He then bought his stuff while still managing to banter with me, then came out of Ahlens and offered me some sweets. Throwing the lessons proffered by my mother out of the window, I accepted. Asking 'Are these laced with ecstasy? I do hope so!'

He was called Roger, was 38, and had organized soirees for Shirley Clamp. (DING!)

So off I traipsed home, quite excited actually. I know getting hit on by a random in a record shop is very humdrum, but I am seldom hit on, so I was happy.

Ulla was like 'Well he must have had some kind of effect on you, your speech rate has gone through the roof!' So I had some food then went off to Connections.

Upon arrival, I clocked Roger, but he had shaved off his beard and looked totally different. He was like 'Where are your friends?'. Brrr. I said 'I live with a Swedish family. I did ask if they wanted to come, but they were slightly reticent'. He was putting his coat in, and said he'd come and find me.

Which he then did, as I danced around on the dancefloor. I said 'Hej!' and kept on dancing. Maybe I have no idea about this sort of thing. He disappeared, not to be seen again! I did look around, but nope. He had gone. Either I look better in the daytime, or he got the wrong end of the stick and thought I wasn't interested. Which is frustrating because it's not strictly true. I have not had a hint of a snog since March... Swedish boylove could have filled a wee hole.

So there you go. I stayed til 3, got stotting drunk and came home on the bus. I had a fag out the window upon my return (though I obviously don't smoke!) and passed out in my clothes. Such class! So maybe i will now go and brush my teeth.

Boys. I just don't get them sometimes. But who does?