Fat Cats and night raps

So yesterday I went for a 3-hour walk in Brooklyn, under this period of time I saw one white person. That was until I realized I was watching my own reflection in a window. For me, coming from the "not-so-ghetto" community of Pixbo, this was a very unsual experience. It pretty much feels like you are walking around in a movie or something, anyways it's a really cool place. People are very friendly and so far 6 people have come up asking me if I play basketball, and an whole of 5 people came forward asking me where I bought my clothes/complimented them. Pretty much as far from the swedish mentality you could get.

Anyways, later we went to the food market. Dont have anything to report to my bosses back at ICA Maxi tho, other than all their products have more colors than an LSD-trip and that they all come in bigpacks.



Saw this little badboy at Dominos while doing Brooklyn. I really couldn't care less if these people can't point out Europe on a world map, this invention is nothing short of genius.. It's such a charming way of thinking (although its the mind of a 5-year old in play); One good thing plus one good thing equals a supergood thing. It's like putting marshmellow in your spaghetti and expect it to work.

Later that night we went to Greenwich Village and a really cool place called Fat Cat. This could definitely be my main hang-out if it existed in Sweden. Billiards, ping-pong, live bands, funny looking bartenders, cheap beer and a generally cool atmosphere. I'm thinking there must be like thousands of places like this in N.Y which makes living here seem even more appealing.

If I'm forced to point out one good thing about being a swede, it's that noone understands the language, which means you without worries could sit and discuss peoples weight problems, how they dont deserve their supercute girlfriend etc on the subway. It's pretty much like talking to a cat; as long as you say it with a happy tone, they are as thrilled if you say "I'm going to take this fork, shove it into your head and feast on you for breakfast" as "aaw I love you, you're my best friend next to coco pops and Jack Bauer".

Apparently I share room with a guy who takes talking-in-your-sleep to a whole new level. In the beginning I didn't realize that, and therefore responded and answered him, but I got pissed when he totally ignored me and fell asleep. Later I was told I shouted to him in MY sleep; OK ENOUGH IS FUCKING ENOUGH, ARE YOU TALKING TO ME OR WHAT???".

Communication is everything in a healthy relationship.