“Where’s Waldo?” or “Why the Fuck Haven’t You Been Posting?”

10 January 2003

Hello friends and others who have stumbled upon this by accident. I know that I have to soooo apologise for not updating for like a month. It certainly is NOT that I have not meant to update, it has just been that I have been so busy and out and about that I simply have not made updating my online journal the priority that it should be. So let me take this opportunity to update you on what has been happening with me:

Basically, one mid-December hit, Sweden went into festive holiday mode. There were things such as “Christmas Tables”, in which the Swedish get together and eat a ton of food and stay remarkably thin through each bite. I was invited to one Christmas Table, which was remarkable in and of itself because I am totally still trying to find my base of friends here in Sweden (at that point). In terms of the love life, I wasn’t formally dating, but I was seeing someone with a sense of regularity. Drinking increases to the same level of my days at university. People worthy of note that I have met in this period are Chris and Anders….both very cool people…the former is Canadian (so it’s cool to have a North American friend here so that we can talk about the Swedes) and the latter is Swedish (an entirely cool guy).

Christmas came and went without much fan fare. It must be said that in Sweden, Christmas is actually celebrated on Christmas Eve, and every year at 3pm, Sweden stops completely to watch old Donald Duck and Disney cartoons. I am serious. They do this because back in the days when they were more socialist than they are now, they only had 2 TV channels, and cartoons were rare. They are so passionate about this cartoon that I suspect if the government ever cancelled the cartoon, there would be mass rioting in the streets. People worthy of note in this period is Sven von Essen (he’s a TV star, has a public relations firm, and is just the craziest and friendliest Swede I have met. Yes, I said a Swede. Really. Stop laughing.), as well as Tomas (if you have never heard a Swede speak with a cockney british accent, it is quite interesting, but he’s become on my favourite people in Sweden).

For New Years, I had planned a New Year’s Eve party, but since I am such a bad planner, it turned out to be Anders and I hanging out and having dinner, and then we went out to a club. I had to come up with a New Year’s resolutions, and they are as follows:

* Drink more. Eat less.

* No more serious resolutions, because your life should be evaluated as the need arises, not just once a year.

* Shag more. Maybe even call them back the next day and see them more than once.

* Realise that I am at such a good point in my life, that I can focus on what it takes to make others happy.

Honestly, I just made these up on the fly. I don’t believe in any of them other than the first one. And maybe the third one. OK, so now that I think about it, they are all good resolutions. I’ll keep them all.

So after New Year’s, I’ve had a couple of after parties. The first started on a Friday at 1am and went to 6am. The second one started on a Sunday and went from 6am to Monday past midnight. I had so much fun at both of them, despite a few moments where I perhaps did and said things unexpectedly. Awesome people during this period were Mikel (another awesome guy), Jimmy (cool bloke who came to an after-party), his friends Linda and Lisa (they were sooooo nice), Gladys (from a Swedish pop group named Afro-Dite…she’s such a sweet person), Koao (I fucked up the spelling on her name, but she’s also in the group Afro-Dite…you’ll be seeing her more in the US since she’s now singing with the group “La Bouche”), Caroline (love her love her lover her), Shåmon (he’ll be a great R&B pop star…he’s signed with a record company and will have a CD soon) and some others as well whose names I can’t remember because I am hung over with a cold.

So there you are. The complete update on my life – minus the naughty bits, but I think my mom is reading this, so I better keep it cleaner than it has been.

Perhaps the remaining resolution I have is to update this at least weekly. I used to believe that I would update this every day, but that hasn’t really panned out, has it? So now I think that weekly is a good goal, as well as if a significant life event happens.

08 December 2002

Hello journal and journal readers. One of you asked me a question about my posts. Specifically, you wanted to know why every post always has 2 titles. Well, the answer is that it comes from the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons. Before each commercial break or interruption, they always would give the next segment 2 titles for your auditory pleasure. So I lifted the concept from them. Of course, if you want to know the title of the current entry, you can see it if you simply click on the “Older Entries” link as it lists all of the titles.

Anyway, this week has been very very tiring. I got back from vacation and I was exhausted and needed to rest. I spent Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday working late hours, coming back to the apartment, and then going to sleep.

On a home programming note, I have to say that the the dryer has been ruining many of my sweaters. More accurate, they have been shirnking to the point where it looks like they were purchased a Gap Kids. Always too much or too little heat — never the right amount. And when I have put something wool in the dryer, it creates dust bunnies. So after several weeks, I now understand how they come into the world, so I took out the hoover, and sucked them all into hell (btw, the vacuum cleaner sounds like a race engine, so I wear driving gloves, goggles, and scarf while screaming “vroom vroom around the apartment — I wonder if the neighbors think I am crazy yet?). However, they struck back. Let’s just say that Thursday night was a drunk night (I do like above a bar, remember?), and I accidentally put a wool sweater into the dryer. It *was* a huge, fluffy wool sweater…the kind that grandma would make after a couple a shots of tequila. You know, where one arm is half a length too long and the other arms barely covers your arm pit? Anyway, when I opened the dryer, loads of these damn dust bunnies scurried out of the dryer and went into hiding. If they could talk they would have been snickering. In the end, I vacuumed them all up as well. Vroom vroom. But they took another sweater dammit. Dust bunnies don’t die, they multiply.

On a social note, it’s Sunday afternoon and it’s been a very awesome weekend. I’ve been meeting Swedish people left and right. It’s because I’ve stuffed a herring down my pants and we all know how they like seafood. OK, so I made the herring part up (besides, “is that a herring in your pocket or are you just happy to see me” doesn’t sound very funny, eh?). I finally know more than 3 Swedish people. I know five. Eat your heart out.

Anyway journal, that’s about it. For those of you interested, I’ll have photos of the messy apartment I call home up on Ofoto.com soon. Love you journal.

Ciao, Rodney

30 November 2002

Hello Journal from Boston, Massachusetts! I missed writing you. I meant to write to you while I was on the plane, but instead I enjoyed American Airlines’ new lower-quality business class service and got drunk on the trip over. C’est La Vie.

Anyway, I am at home until tomorrow, when I then head back to Sweden. I am kinda excited about going back to Sweden, which means that it actually feels like home now (I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at this). The American food that I have been eating has been making me sick (I’m getting used to Swedish food as well), but no complaints! I’ve gotten to see friends and family. Speaking of which…

Thanksgiving holiday was fun and eventful (as usual). The women cooked and got drunk, the men cleaned up afterwards. I was a chauffeur and drove everyone around and ran errands — people got all “Ms. Daisy” on me in the passenger seats in the car. I had a good time to be sure, but I don’t know that I’ll be coming back for the holidays next year. Everything was just very hectic and I need to use vacations to relax. I don’t think I’ll get to relax coming back to the states, so I think I’ll use that week to chill out in some remote location or oasis to get grounded again. I’ll be arriving back to Sweden on Monday just as tired as when I left!!! =(

Anyway, the trip home also let me identify what I want to movers to bring to Sweden for me, and the two empty pieces of luggage I brought here are now FILLED TO THE BRIM, and I’ll even have to pay for an extra bag. But they they are things that I want or need to help me feel more at home in Sweden.

And since the US is cheaper than Sweden in many respects, I used the opportunity to buy a digital camera, some more club clothes that I can actually fit into, and I raided my storage facility to get some of my old favourite club clothes, including both my leather and plastic pants. The plastic pants are actually quite cool to wear, but in the winter, I’ll freeze in them easily (by the same token, I’ll burn alive in them during the summer). But I will wear them anyways. The only problem with the pants is that whenever I move in them, they make noise. And it makes since, because the surface of the pants is dry and the pants are plastic, the static causes friction (or something like this). Anyway, the only solution I can think of is to put a substance on them that will lubricate the pants. OK, so maybe CRISCO is a bad idea, but it has to more gel-like than water. And not butter, because I am not a pork roast, thank you very much. I am thinking that maybe I’ll run baby oil on the pants and that should help the situation out. We’ll see…

Anyway, have to get going. Meeting some old college friends out for dinner tonight (I had dinner with Cara, Lynn, and Diane yesterday…fun fun fun!). It is going to be a low-key night, because I am tired and want an early dinner. However, around midnight, I might want to go out clubbing…we’ll see….

Ciao and love you journal!

Rodney

P.S. Bought the second season of “Buffy” today. She so rocks!

Prego journal, on this chilly-yet-beautiful evening in Stockholm. It’s been some time since I have written, but I have been very very busy. And very very lazy. I don’t think that I have written much since Paris, but the truth is, there just hasn’t been much to write home about, so to speak. Working during the day, partying at night, partying during working — you know, the usual stuff!

I am afraid I don’t even have any insights to offer you today. Besides the angry drunk guy who threw water on me, the couple that asked me to participate in the 3-way with them (yes Steve, this is the SECOND time this year…what the f*ck is going on?), and passing on a friend I invited over to my house for dinner, it’s business as usual in RodneyLand.

On the good news front, I get to go home (to the US) next weekend, and I am somewhat excited about that actually. I am excited about that not because it’s been a while since I have been home, but because I get to see my family for Thanksgiving, something that is going to keep me emotionally sane. And besides that, I need to pick up a few things from the US that I just can’t get here, like clothes for fat people like me (the Swedish are so thin that they disappear when they turn sideways, so streets sometimes look desserted during rush hour). And I need to get a Massachusetts state flag (since I already have an US and a Swedish flag hanging in the hallway). And Stephanie has organised a nite out for me on Saturday after the thanksgiving. If you wanna go, contact her. This time we are going to the Legal Seafood at the Prudential Center.

Oh yeah, life with cable is going quite well, in fact I have about 40 channels. Except theres nothing to watch. Ever. Just bad American TV shows that never made it out of production. And this week I was spotlighted on the IBM intranet. If you are an IBMer, you can check it out at:

http://w3-5.ibm.com/services/emea/sodel/3sodegs.nsf/c12568da004bc5c8c125683a004646e9/eaccc0911d072f9dc1256c70004f6abe?OpenDocument

I was pretty excited about it. And two weeks from now, I’ll be speaking to a group of Swedish people about my former job as an auditor and the travel and how being on an international assignment is a good experience. If you want to book me, call me at 1-800-inflated-egos. LOL.

And then there is the rat in my building. Now before you think I live in Bentley housing, it helps to know that I live (not directly) above a nightclub/restaurant. And a supermarket is 30 seconds from me. Given all that food, I am surprised that there is just one rat. But there is only one. And it lives in the cellar (over 5 floors down from me). The notice says that it is a “big rat”. I am thinking that it is the kind of rat that eats unsuspecting children that wander into the cellar. Truth is, I don’t know. I am never going down into the cellar again. Anyway, the note also says that you have to go into the cellar (where the big rat is), and if you have a storage space down there (everyone gets storage space as part of their apartment), you have to leave the space unlocked and the key with the landlord on the day they come in to kill the rat. Let’s not wonder for a minute what they have to do to kill this rat that they need everyone to leave their storage spaces unlocked (I think they are going to try and talk it out of the building and then lasso it or something strange). It’s only important to know that if the rat ends up in my apartment, I am moving back to the US.

So anyway, not too much else exciting has been happening. I’ve been going out and talking to people, trying to learn all I can about the Swedish. You would think I’d know by now, but you’d be wrong. Still can’t speak the language. But dammit, I can drink them under the table (even if I am barfing the next day). I may not have much (ok, so I have mostly everything in life I want), but I’ve got my pride (the one thing I don’t really have).

Anyway journal, I have to go now. It’s 5:30pm on Friday and mostly everyone has left. And Anna the Swedish janitor (think a wide-bodied lady with one stocking always lower than the other) has just given me that “I’m gonna eat ya” look again.

Ciao journal…love you.

Rodney

Greetings journal. I do have to say that it has been a few days since I have written anything. For that I apologise. I spent most of the past week in Paris, and I had a lot of fun (as usual). I often enjoy the French — the food, the people, the smell pockets in the metro. Ah, c’est la vie! And since my French is better than my Swedish, it make it a bit easier to communicate.

Actually, the reason for being in France was for work, but I was also there to find a new fragrance that the Swedish do not yet have (read my CK Crave post to find out how the nation stole my favourite fragrance…oh yeah, and how my flesh started rotting). While I was ultimately unsuccessful, I did stock up on some pretty good wines. And of course, a spot of shopping for clothing items not yet in Sweden (like Gap mock turtlenecks. Most of you will remember they introduced this in 1998 and I loved them. Now I got to buy more). That was followed up by buying a bunch of Evian affinity body and face care products. And of course, a new pair of shoes. And let’s not forget those CDs that I can’t get in Sweden. And maybe there was a Zara purchase or two — I really can’t remember. All I know is that it was good that I bought the extra-big suitcase!

Health and beauty aside, today we’ll focus on the dust bunnies that have overrun my apartment and are trying to organise an union. They are everywhere. It would be quite simple to vaccum them or sweep them up, but that suggests that I do something else in the evenings besides drink and watch TV. So they gather, wating to make their move. They seems to be gathering around my bed. I might have to take some drastic actions.

So yesterday was good in many respects. My dryer now works great, I got a working freezer, and the microwave works as intended. I also got digital cable TV installed, so now I can watch something other than the discovery and nature channels. Because let’s face it, watching ever species in the animal and insect kingdom get more action than me was getting rather depressing. Now with cable, I can somehow manage to pass the cold winter nights with inappropriate images of Bea Arthur in my head. If you didn’t find that funny — well, neither do I. I am actually rather frightened. Perhaps what is more frightening is that even with the addition of 52 additional channels — most in English — I still feel like there is nothing on TV.

Sigh….

Well, before I go, I would share a piece of fan mail I got for this diary site…

“Hey Rodney. How are you?….Anyway, I know you, and it seems like you are leaving out some pretty juicy details. Since you never call you punk a**, keep me in the know. Talk to you later.” — [Name Withheld]

Dear name withheld,

You caught me! I do leave out some rather juicy details, meant for a more mature audience or over beers that you have to pay for (because I’m poor). However, trust me that only a very small percentage of my life is missing from the online journal. So if you want to know my rationale for why I think it’s erotic when the people I um…connect with forget that I don’t speak their langugage fluently but say things in their mother tongue, then write to me under my pen name, Dr. Ruth Westheimer (on the internet, no one knows a tall black man is really a old white woman). However, on this site, buddy, you’ll have to settle for sarcasm and me talking about the injustices that dust bunnies cause.

Ciao, Rodney

3 November 2002, entry 1

Well, in a previous posting, I had promised that I was going to provide you more details about the new fragrance that I am wearing, CK Crave. It is a very nice fragrance indeed, however, once I began wearing it in earnest, I noticed that the skin was literally rotting off my hands. I was so scared that I went to the emergency room. They laughed at me and asked if I had traveled. The nurse blamed it on the UK, with the crazy explanation that it was probably because of the difference in the hardness of the water, and that I was also probably mixing some chemicals amongst the different beauty aids — er, beauty enhancement products — that I use. So after I was convinced I didn’t have mad cow disease, I left the hospital. Those Swedish nurses — they look nothing like they do on porn videos (did I say that?).

For those who have ever seen my bathroom, you instantly know that I like to smell good and use various fragrances. It kicked off one of my most expensive habits — the buying of various colognes, hair and body shampoos, and moisturizers. And I have to blame my sister Roxanne for this. It all started on December 25, 1999. Either I smelled really bad, or she just thought it was time I wear something other than that bottle of polo sport I stole from my older brother. She gave a gift set of CK Obsession. It smelled so good that I still use it (I’m obsessed with it I suppose). From there, I added Tommy cologne and body products (I still use those too). Then because of Steve, I learned of a wonderful store called Sephora, and then added various daily maintenance products. Of course, because of Maha, I learned that one had to “re-scent” at some point during the day after the fragrance had worn off from the morning, so that introduced the Vercase Blue Jeans, as well as the Dolci & Gabana Homme fragrance into the collection. Finally, I added CK Crave in the beginning of October, on the advice of the Fragrance Consultant when I was at Sephora Headquarters in Paris. Actually, the consultant was quite nice. I wanted to buy CK Crave and another fragrance and the told me not to buy the second fragrance because it probably would smell too strong for the winter. And I felt I could trust her when she didn’t recommend a replacement, but encouraged me to try Crave and that if I didn’t like it, come back and she’d recommend something else. Anyway, the moral of the story is that I often smell very pretty. So you (yes YOU reading this) simply must compliment me on how good I smell, like mommy does, or else I’ll never talk to you again.

Belive it or not, all of this talk of fragrance is connected to the feature thought of the day, which is I believe that the peruvian pipe players are stalking me. You know who they are. You see them wearing their ponchos, trying to shake you down for your loose change. After seeing them all of the world (strangely enough, they are not in China), I have determined two things:

* The Peruvian pipe players are sponsored by the government of peru in some way. I just can’t prove it right now.

* The Peruvian pipe players are perennial favourites all around the world, rivaled only by the long-running production of Cats worldwide.

While they are a site to behold, it is funnier to watch the Swedish watch them. Some actually get up the nerve to gently sway back and forth. But most just stare — intensely. It’s as if they are waiting for them to explode like a pinata (of course, no hitting or violence would be required, as the combustion would be spontaneous). Or maybe the Swedish think about their lives against the backdrop of peruvian music, reminding them of sunny summer lazy days. My money is on the spontaneous combusting pinata thing. Because wouldn’t it be neat if all peruvian’s were filled with candy?

Ciao, Rodney

31 October 2002, Entry 1

So yeah, I’ve been doing a bad job of updating at least 3 times a week like I had said I would. So shoot me. Actually, don’t shoot me, I am too pretty to be hurt. Actually, it is good to know that you guys actually read this from time to time, if only to laugh at my expense. Which is fine with me.

So besides Steve’s visit, I also got a visit from other members of the Scooby Gang, known as IT audit. The gang consisted of Artie the One Man Party, Timmy the New Hire, Pammy Pam Pam, and Momma Palmer (Pam’s mommy-in-law). They were fun to hang out with during the week were be both in Stockholm (see my previous entry on the UK because I had to leave the Scooby Gang during their second week in Stockholm). I went out to dinner with them a couple of times and did some touristy things with them, and then Tim and I went out for drinks, including at the ultra-cool Ice Bar. It was a pretty good time and a welcome visit.

They also saw my new apartment, and liked it as much as I did. Mamma Palmer was impressed with the wood floors. Pammy Pam Pam quite enjoyed the warm and sunny feeling of the apartment. Art enjoyed the buttons on the kitchen stove. And Timmy the new Hire just liked the apartment. So with such rave reviews, the apartment is a keeper…

…however, there are somethings that I have yet to understand about the apartment. The washing machine is fantastic; however, the dryer really isn’t drying as much as “moistening” my clothes. And the washing machines sometimes scares me, especially in the spin cycle, because the cycle is so aggressive that it sounds like it is trying to create a vortex to suck me into the 7th layer of hell. Also, the freezer is keeping things warm, while the microwave is keeping things cool. And no, I don’t have them confused…I just don’t know how they work. So in the meantime, until I get the freezer working, I can’t do the kind of cooking that I want. Actually, I can, I just have to go to the market everyday, which is another story in and of itself…

…you see people, going to the market is the US is mostly like going to the market in Sweden, except not really. Things have the same general organisation, but the selection is different and I can’t quite understand the language yet. So basically, I stick to orange juice, fruits, diet coke, swedish meatballs, strawberry jam, a selection of cheeses and breads, pastas, and when I want something chocolately, Nutella. This is my diet, besides the sandwiches I have for lunch at work. And it didn’t help I was standing in the “7-items or less” checkout with 40 items. Contorted looks of judgement crossed everyone’s faces. By the way, did I mention that I am dropping weight? Some nights I stand outside my flat with a sign that reads “hungry. will feed you if you cook food.” So far, no takers. If I were in England and held that a sign that said “free dental care if you cook for me”, people would be lining up around the corner. Bloody right they would!

So in terms of work, it’s been busy. I am not too sure what I am doing, but everyone seems to think I am successful at it. “Oy vey!” an ancient Chinese philosopher once said. Yeah, oy vey! indeed…

Well, that enough pearls of wisdom for the moment. I think I’ll create one of those notification lists so that you know to come to visit me when I’ve updated my travelouge.

Hasta la pasta! (hey, it’s the only think I can make here until someone shows me how the oven works)

Ciao, Rodney

Hello journal. So it has been a whole week, hasn’t it? Oh well, you know that I was just saving up some good stories to share with you. I’ve just spent the last week in the UK, and it was a good trip, but now that I recently had an apartment, it felt a little wierd that I would have to go back to the road. I wanted to stay in my apartment and get used to living in Stockholm a bit more, but I know that I will have plenty of time for this later.

Anyway, I was traveling to Portsmouth, UK…a little place that I like to call “Chunky Acres”. Not because the peopel there are fat, but because of the fact that I usually work out a lit more when I am travellling by myself. Coming over to the UK, I thought that I had weighed in at 270 lbs (122 kg). Speaking of the trip over…that begins a whole other adventure….

So I arrive in Heathrow Airport. For once, the flight departs and arrives on time, or on time enough for Europe. So I am thinking that with things going so well, nothing that possibly go wrong. To understand something essential, you have to know that Heathrow Airport is in London, and I was supposed to drive town to Portsmouth. So after landing (and picking up soe more CK Crave — the new fragrance by Calvin Klein…more on this later), I get into my rental car and go go go!

Following the directions (partially as it would turn out) that I was given, I began driving on the M25 highway, known as the M25 Orbital. So I was driving on this road for an an hour, and all of the sudden, I begin to see signs showing directions to the Chunnel (the tunnel that England and France share). At the toll (this is another bad sign since tolls aren’t supposed to be introduced into the UK until February 2002), I ask the toll booth guy if I am in the direction of Portsmouth? Nope, he declared, and then proceeds to make me pull over to the side of the road so that he could give me directions to get back onto the right side of the M25 orbital (I was going North when I should have been going South). With a lot of thanks for setting me in the right direction, I set back out on my journey, knowing that I had just added 40 miles to my journey. So I am going on the M25 Orbital South, and after about 90 minutes, things begin to look awfully familiar. “Oh wow” I say to myself “they have the same gas stations and road set up on this side of the M25 orbital as well. Interesting. I finally arrive at another toll booth. This seem interesting, so when I pull up to the toll booth window, the guy looks very familiar. He gives me a look and I ask him “oh my goodness, are you a twin? There’s another toll booth worker who looks just like you.” “I AM THE SAME GUY” he responds back. Jesus Christos! This is more than I can bare, so he pulls me over to the side of the road again. The first thing he says is “DO YOU UNDERSTAND-O THAT ‘ORBITAL’ MEAN IT IS A CIRCLE-O?” “Oh, that’s makes sense, because everything looked the same after awhile” I responded. He was less than amused. So he told me to wait while he want to get me the map from his car (what a nice offer, eh?) so that I would have a map. Little did he know that I already had one. And when he came back his map, I showed him my map. At which point he responded “OH BLOODY HELL. YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN. FOLLOW THE BLOODY MAP!” And then he left. And low and behold, the map had the exact directions that I needed. Who knew? To make a longer story short, what should have been a 90 minute trip turned out to be a 4 hour and 30 minute trip. Sigh…why I am sooooo directionally challenged?

To continue on with my week, it was a great learning experience, but not really eventful. I realised during the week that while the Brits and the Yanks might both speak English, I will be damned if I understand them half the time. Most of the questions that they’d ask I would respond to with a “oh wow…I’ll have to get back to you on that.” Even I understand the Swedish better than the English (even if the sentances are not always complete).

And true to my word, I was able to work out regularly at the hotel. And when I stepped on the scale, I found that I didn’t weigh 270 lbs (122 kgs) as I had feared. However, not all was well in hefty-ville, I still clocked in at a robust 240 lbs (109 kgs), which means that I put on 10 lbs (4.5 kgs). Sigh…I am going to ship myself off to a Swiss fat farm. Speaking of which, I had an emotional moment. I was at a display in a musem. During which there was a Dutch couple behind me pointing at the picture we were all staring at. However, I wasn’t really paying attention to them, except when they said something like “yadda yadda Prince of Wales” and pointed in my direction. I thought that they were calling me the Price of Whales and I got offended (I had realised that the exhibit had a small picture of the crown). There I was, imaging myself like Willy the Whale, jumping out of the water, doing tricks for fish. Sigh…but then I realised and I felt better.

Friday saw me make the trip back from Portsmouth to Heathrow airport, where I was dropping off the car because I was going to stay in London for the weekend (and London doesn’t require a car really). Driving back to the airport area was piece of cake. However, I couldn’t find the airport to save my life. Which gives me the opportunity to share what has become the bane of my existence…the British roundabout. It is terrible and tries to destroy my life. These roundabouts have a simple concept…it’s a circle and different exits in the circle point you in different directions, and people in the roundabout always have the right of way. However, the signage leading to the roundabout was not always as clear and robust as one would have liked it to be. As a result, got lost very easily, but always managed to find my way eventually. I am definately not a fan of the roundabout. So to make the a long story short, because I kept on getting off on the wrong exits in the roundabouts, what should have been a 90 minute trip to the airport took about 2 hours and 30 minutes. I really need a compass and to create a book called “Directions for Dummies”

Over the course of the weekend, I was as lazy as possible, which means that I went shopping. I bought hats, gloves, and shoes because you know darling, you can never have enough of any of these items. I also went to a few nightclubs and pubs. They were interesting, but certainly nothing spectacular.

Anyway, that’s all for now.

Ciao, Rodney

16 October 2002, Entry 2

So today I went to get a haircut. Oh fun, my first haircut in Sweden. Those who know me that I usually commit to one barber and stay with them until either I leave that city, or one of us dies…whichever comes first. Well, since it is just a tad bit too far away to make a jaunt across the states in order to get a haircut, I have decided that I would try to find a place here to get a haircut because I think that it would be the best thing to do. Besides, it was getting to the point where I was looking like a young Micheal Jackson. Perhaps a better example, for those of you who have seen Austin Powers: Goldmember, was the scene where Beyonce Knowles (of Destiny’s Child) hair is short and wet, and then with a couple of shakes, she has a huge afro! That was me. I am not suggesting that I am now Beyonce Knowles, but like Micheal Jackson and Diana Ross, you haven’t really seen us together in public have you? I’ll let you form your own conclusions.

Anyway, when I get to the styling salon (it was recommended), it turns out that the one person who cuts black hair only does so twice a week. So the stylist is very nervous to cut my hair, but he tries to show as much confidence as he can. I warned him that if my haircut came out wrong, that I would probably “over-react”. This made him even more nervous. He called a phone number and started speaking frantically into the phone. He put on his hands-free set and continued talking while cutting my hair. I could just imagine that he called some kind of “Black Hair Support Line”. I can just imagine the person on the other end of the line “remain calm…it’s just like we taught you in styling class…don’t get scared…you can do this”. I knew that this was going to be an interesting haircut because instead of using an electric razor, he used scissors and his imagine.

Well, to make a long story short. The good news is that I no longer look like Micheal Jackson during his afro years. I now look like a member of the rap group Kid and Play. The haircut I have now I only see on classic episodes of Yo MTV Raps! But hey, it’s a step up. Sigh…time to get back to the UK or Paris and have them work on my mop.

In the next issue…the IT audit gang’s in town and comes to visit my new apartment…stay tuned…

Ciao, Rodney

16 October 2002

So, I just moved into my new apartment yesterday. It is very nice and I like it a lot. I am planning on making a few changes to it, but for the moment, I’ve got no complaints. On one hand, it felt good to get the keys to the place because it cemented the fact that I now formally have a place to live. On the other hand, I started to cry because it meant that I was now no longer on expenses. And life feels different when IBM is not picking up the tab. Except that in many other ways, they are picking up the tab for me, so I can’t complain *too* loudly.

What the moves signifies the most is that I don’t have to spend another night in a lonely place called “Shantytown” otherwise known as Akalla Hotel Apartments. And this makes me happy. Man, I feel like breakdancing. Shantytown was the pitts. Now I live right outside the city, but close enough to get to where I need to go (and it’s a 30 second walk to the subway from my apartment). I’m moving on up. Just need to get me a tweed suit and wife named Weezie and I’ll be George Jefferson. I had the afro thing going already….