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