Yeah, yeah

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So I was a bit drunk last nigt when I posted that "Introspective" crap, but for the sake of integrity I won't delete it. See what I did there?

So, anyway, yesterday was Day One of overwhelming oh-crap-I'm-actually-going-ness, as I booked the flight. Of course my feet were kept firmly on the ground by the really grumpy salesperson, who acted like I was intruding on her precious phone time. And the look on her face when I paid in cash. It was like she'd never seen a fucking coin in her life! (And, no, I didn't pay the whole ticket with coins) And she misspelled my fucking name, so if I get in trouble at the airport (unlikely, as it's not that serious an error), I'll fucking sue. Yes, I do say "fuck" a lot. Thanks for noticing, fucker.
Anyhoo, the ticket is now firmly stuck on my fridge. Well, it's held up by a fridge magnet. But it's an unusually strong magnet! Well, not really, it's just a regular fridge magnet. But it is shaped like a strawberry, and that's the important thing.
A few days ago I bought a backpack, it cost me a whole entire 100 ikr (slightly more than a single euro), and it's one of those old-fashioned (or just plain old) external frame jobbies. So it's crap. But it was cheap, it's light, and maybe I can use the frame for something. Like Roskilde, where I'll have to carry a heavy tent, a bulky sleeping bag, and my clothes. I might just attach my nice, sturdy crap-ass backpack (complete with bank logo and insulated compartment for food) to it, hang the tent and bag on it, and then ditch it after the festival. Sounds like a plan.
I'm trying to wish my hangover away, so I can go to the bank to get some money to pay debts, but my brain seems to disagree with me on that. Serves me right for celebrating beer day.
Yesterday, ladies and gentlemen (or imaginary beings I like to picture reading my blog and perhaps even letting out a small giggle or two), was Beer Day in Iceland! Now, it's not an actual, official holiday (though the next day really should be), but we celebrate all the same. You see, on March first 1989, beer was legalized in Iceland. Yes, you read that right, 1989! Sucks, huh? But every year beer drinkers celebrate, and some pubs have special offerson beer. The next day everybody stays in bed and groans. At least I do.

But this is all irrelevant. The point is; I've got a golden ticket! (Not really, but "Golden seat reservation printout" lacks a certain something something) I will be departing from this god forsaken rock in the middleof nowhere on june 29th at 7 am! Yay for me. I'll land in Copenhagen at noon, and then it's one night in Köben (we're neighbours, so I'm allowed to use her nickname), before heading up to Roskilde and (whether the weather permits or not. Weather is not the boss of me!) camping out outside the wonderful yellow gates of Camping West. The next morning we'll rush in, joyously (or irritatedly) pitching our tents before taking a nap and complaining that the beer stands haven't opened yet, and we have no food. But it's all good. After Roskilde...Europa!

Here's my Europe song:

Lalala! Europe is a continent,
I am not incontinent,
but I might be when i'm older!
Europe's got a lot of stuff,
and I haven't seen enough
to really judge old Europe.
But this summer I will try
to see a lot of Europe-pie,
If I don't go, I will die!
And that won't make me happy!
No, that would be really crappy!
I don't wear a nappy!
Because I use a loo!
And so do you!
For all your pee and poooooooo!

Yay! I'm so great.

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