Tag Archives: party

January 12

Back in July last year, Kat and I moved in together but we never got to throw a proper housewarming party at the time so we decided to get that out of the way this weekend and invited some friends over for drinks at our place. I think it was the first time that some of Kat’s friends were together in the same room with some of mine, and despite a silly late-night drunken incident involving a DIY garlic bread, a great time was had by all.

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Some of our friends didn’t make it to the party, possibly because of the stupid transvestite storm that hit us over the weekend (it was given a female name on the first day and a male name on the second day – that’s progressive Denmark for you all), but those who made it to our home gave us flowers, a bottle of fine Cuban rum, a couple of bottles of wine, a pair of salt & pepper shakers we liked, and a picture framing fund to take care of some posters we have at home. All very nice. The next morning, after doing a quick clean up of the apartment, Kat and I went for coffee and pastries at a café in Nørrebro and then popped in El Giganten to get that new TV we had been talking about for the last couple of months.

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We figured that if we are spending so much time in front of the telly watching series on HBO most evenings, we might as well give ourselves an upgrade so, after much consideration, comparing features and prices and users reviews, we finally agreed on an LG 55-inch full HD LCD TV that might be just a little bit too big; its name is Alberto and it barely fits on the cabinet we used to have our old TV on. If it was one centimeter bigger, we probably would be looking at new cabinets as we speak.

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As with every piece of electronic equipment we buy, the set up process didn’t go as smoothly as it should have and we still haven’t been able to find out how to make the antenna signal work but we hook it up to my laptop and our surround sound and spent the rest of the day watching episodes of “Masters of Sex,” a series we liked at the beginning but that we’re feeling a bit meh about it now that we’re close to finish the second season. To be honest, if it wasn’t for all the exposed breasts featured throughout the series, I would have probably given up on it a while ago.

But with Alberto on our side, standing proud in our living room, we will power through and finish what we started. We will not give up and we will not surrender. Our time is now.

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I just came across a wonderful piece of wisdom, which I recommend you to read: “The Subtle Art of Not Giving A Fuck.” 


Despite the loose use of the word “fuck,” which is featured 127 times throughout the article, the author makes a really valid point in an very amusing way and considering the new year has just begun, I’d suggest you to reconsider your fuck-giving policy and follow the advice of Mr. Mark Makson (whoever the fuck he is) and start reserving your fucks for the really fuckworthy situations in life.

After you read the article, I think you would agree with me that it’s indeed worth trying.

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December 16

“So, how did the Christmas party go?” I hear you asking. Well, dear curious reader, I’m happy to inform you that our 80s themed Christmas bash went well, with most of my co-workers making a decent effort to dress up for the occasion. There was an Indiana Jones, a Mr. T, a hair metal band dude; a very convincing Maverick (Top Gun) played by Mette, who dressed up in a pilot’s suit and walked around the office while the film’s theme song played through a wireless speaker hidden inside her bespoke helmet; and then there was me in (almost) full Run DMC outfit. As you can see, my beard could have been better but hey, it still did the job.

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I left around midnight but I heard the party went on until five in the morning, with some of my co-workers actually passing out in the stairs of the building and others deciding to crash on a couch in the office until the morning after. It’s always like that. Last year, one of the guys working in the office got too sleepy halfway through the party and decided to have a nap in the toilet. He woke up at 4am, just when the last guys where about to lock the door and leave the office, following a series of missed phone calls from his son (who also works in the agency) who was desperately trying to find out where the fuck was he. Typical Danish Christmas party behaviour.

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We’re starting to plan our summer holidays and it seems that next year we’ll be heading to Croatia. Kat and I had talked about going somewhere warm, ideally on the seaside, and we both have heard really positive comments about Croatia, which apparently is not only stunning but quite affordable, so in the end that’s what I think we’ll do. The basic plan is to fly to Split and from there, take a bus or a ferry to some of the surrounding islands. I really can’t wait.

To top it all off, AC/DC has finally announced their European tour and I have decided to go see them in Paris, Madrid and Roskilde. Although Kat is only attending the show in Denmark, she’ll be joining me on my mini rock tour, which is fantastic. We both like Madrid, and she’s really excited to show me her favourite spots in Paris, a place she knows quite well, as her mum used to live there a while ago. We have already booked our flights and we’re just waiting for the tickets to go on sale this week. I think we will have an amazing time.

Oh! And speaking of AC/DC… on Sunday, while I was studying Danish in the living room, I heard the sound of a guitar coming out of the kitchen. I walked there and what did I find? Kat, listening to “Thunderstruck”, while making us blueberries and Nutella pancakes. She just blows my mind, every time. My friends say I should put a ring on her, and you know what? I think they’re right.

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August 25

Great news: I got my UK visa approved so Kat and I are heading to London and Brighton on Friday. London, baby! I’m really looking forward to this trip, not only because I will get to catch up with some of my best friends, whom I haven’t seen in a good while, but also because Kat is coming along and I will get the chance to take her to some of my favourite places and walk around the city I love so much. The other day I came across an article in which an Australian freelance journalist eloquently described what it feels like to leave London, and I found myself nodding along as I read, overwhelmed by a strange mix of happiness and nostalgia; on one hand, I was happy to be able to relate through personal experience to that London life she was talking about, and on the other hand, I got a bit sentimental about it because whether I like to admit it or not, I still miss London.

Don’t get me wrong, things are great in Copenhagen and I’m truly enjoying living with Kat. She has upgraded my Danish experience from Economy to First Class and has really made a big difference in my life and the way I relate to the city, but deep down, I still miss my friends and some of the places I grew so fond of over the years I spent in London. It’s only natural, I guess. Living in London has been the greatest experience of my life and so much happened during those three years that it would be impossible to forget about it. The good thing is that now I have a one-year visa and I have Kat, who I’m sure will make me look at the city in new light and turn every single trip to London into an unforgettable affair. I really can’t wait.

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Last Friday, we had a Summer Party at Advance. Monika, Rune, Jon, Sabrina and I were in charge of organizing it so we decided (well, Monika and Sabrina did) to throw a Rockabilly-themed bash, because nothing says Danish summer like girls in bullet bras and bright red lipstick, and dudes in pompadours and tight jeans, right? We started at 3pm with a bit of bowling, then burgers and cocktails at 6pm and then all sorts of alcohol, cake and live music back in the office from 9pm until 2am. I left at 11pm, mind you, but let’s not talk about that.

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All in all, everyone had a great time. The Orgelheimers, the band that played, was terrific (check them out) and people looked fantastic especially some of the girls, who really should make that 50’s style an everyday thing. I also dressed up for the occasion, of course, although I took the easy way and ended up on the Grease side of rockabilly, as most dudes. You know… black jeans, white t-shirt, leather jacket, black boots and fake tattoos. Two of them, to be precise: a hot female sailor on my right arm and a big heart lock with the word “Mom” on it, next to a yellow flower and fresh leaves, all over my left forearm. Considering it was a corny design, It looked great. Everyone said so. I liked it too, so much so that I’m seriously considering to get a proper tattoo and if I ever figure out what is it that I would like to get permanently engraved on my skin, it will definitely be on one my forearms, most likely the right one. 

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I Skyped with my parents the day after the party and showed them my fake tattoo, which I guess looked very convincing on screen. They were not particularly thrilled about it. Not even my mom, can you believe it? I should have probably gotten a tattoo with the word “dog” on it, I’m sure Sabrina (my dog, not my co-worker) would have been a bit more excited about it…

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September 15

Last night I discovered that an empty soda can on the road has the potential to knock you off your bike in a matter of seconds. Somehow, I managed to ride over it and the little bitch got stuck on my front wheel, made an awful noise and then stopped the wheel all of a sudden, which resulted in me flying over my bike and landing on the ground not sure of what the hell happened. It was nothing serious, really. Actually, it was a very minor incident if you compare it with my bike accident last year; it just took me a minute to take the can out of my wheel, put the handle bars back into place, and get on my bike again to cycle to this crazy party that was held at TietgenKollegiet, easily the most amazing student house I’ve ever seen.

My friend Vilde, a Norwegian girl I met through a friend’s girlfriend, told me she had plans to go to the Danish Oktoberfest so I went to her house, only to find her and another Norwegian girl called Marte, drinking champagne and dancing in the living room to various songs. We were later joined by Jennifer, a Swedish girl who brought with her an extra bottle of champagne, just in case. A couple of hours later, we were still in the house, discussing what was uglier: penises or vaginas. I, of course, defended vaginas with my life, not only because I’m straight but also because I truly believe female genitalia is way better-looking that its male counterpart. A smooth, puffy, self-contained vulva is simply nicer that some veiny sausage hanging from your waist. Period.

As we argued over such critical issues, our plans to go to Oktoberfest slowly faded away. Once the champagne was over, I bought some beers and just around midnight we headed to this student party, relatively close to where I live. There were probably 200 people in there, most of them well advance in their intoxication process. I went to the bar to get a drink and was told no cards were accepted, which was a major bummer as I didn’t have any cash on me and no ATM could be found around the dorm. I lost Jennifer and Marte, too. One second we were dancing and chatting, the next second they were gone. It must have happened when I turned around to ogle at some chicks dancing next to me. Oh well.

I stood there for a while, not knowing exactly what to do; everyone was way drunker than I was, I couldn’t buy any drinks, and I couldn’t be bothered to approach anyone. I had a strange feeling of inadequacy that ultimately urged me to leave. I’m not sure if it was the age difference, the lack of alcohol, or me simply being a peevish little fuck. Maybe I was a bit intimidated, I don’t know. I suppose I should have tried to enjoy myself a bit more last night but in the end I just went outside, unlocked my bike and just when I was about to take off, a Spanish girl tripped over my bike wheel and fell over, quite dramatically. I asked her if she was OK and she humorously nodded, unable to stop laughing. It was a funny incident. We chatted for a few minutes and then I finally left the party, riding through the empty streets of rainy Copenhagen, feeling awkward and dull.

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Today I was going through Brené Brown’s “The Gifts Of Imperfection” and came across this on page 80: “Sometimes we miss out on the bursts of joy because we’re too busy chasing down extraordinary moments. Other times, we’re so afraid of the dark that we don’t dare let ourselves enjoy the light.” – That last sentence made me think about my sudden escape from the party last night.


There’s a flea market/neighbourhood party in my street, just in front of my building. I went to have a look and found a nice winter jacket for 100kr (a bargain!), which I think might come handy very soon. A few minutes ago, someone was playing The Beatles songs very loudly (a good thing) but now there is a girl with a guitar outside, entertaining the audience as they browse through second-hand stuff on a cloudy Sunday. I really like Copenhagen when I find myself in the middle of this kind of affairs.

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