My Chauffeur
That last comment on my blog was from my dear chauffeur. You see I live miles and miles from school (okay, so it’s only about 30 minutes by car-but by Icelandic standards, it’s a long commute). Recently a wonderful intelligent, funny young woman from my town started an education in the most wonderful field of science-biology. I quickly saw an opportunity to carpool and cut down on the pollution I was producing. Little did I know, Olga doesn’t want to carpool. She just wants to drive me around-it must be the muscles! So, we find Our Hero almost every morning awaiting his knight in shining armor to whisk him off to school. Unfortunately, despite all of his charm and powers of persuasion, Olga has resisted the deep-seated urge to join the yoga class that Our Hero attends every Tuesday and Thursday (well, almost every). This means that a down-trodden muscle-man has to trudge out to the bus station and lower himself to the public transportation system like a commoner on those days. However, that is after the yoga and I must say that although I have no trouble relaxing-as anyone who knows me will attest-yoga does put me in a very peaceful state of mind. In that inner sanctity, there is no fisheries assessment homework to struggle with, or creepy Frenchmen skulking around the corner looking like Michael Jackson only not as cute. No, upon leaving the gym, I feel great. My mind is open as wide as the legs of a Thai hooker servicing a German businessman.
I walk slowly to the bus humming and taking notice of everything around me. The ducks. The grass. The breeze. The clouds...of tar dust and break pad grit mixed with salt blowing around from the highway I have to follow to get to the bus stop. I hate the city! This is only a small city of a hundred thousand people or so and still, it’s disgusting.
But, back to my dear friend Olga Björk. She’s talkative. She is generous and caring. She’s talkative and curious. She’s funny and strange. She loves parrots. Actually she loves all animals. In fact, she’s one of those people who French kisses their dog. Blech! Oh, and did I mention talkative? I kid her a lot, but really, I’m glad that she decided to start school this year. How else would I get to school? Seriously, though, I’m glad I got to know my chauffeur.
I walk slowly to the bus humming and taking notice of everything around me. The ducks. The grass. The breeze. The clouds...of tar dust and break pad grit mixed with salt blowing around from the highway I have to follow to get to the bus stop. I hate the city! This is only a small city of a hundred thousand people or so and still, it’s disgusting.
But, back to my dear friend Olga Björk. She’s talkative. She is generous and caring. She’s talkative and curious. She’s funny and strange. She loves parrots. Actually she loves all animals. In fact, she’s one of those people who French kisses their dog. Blech! Oh, and did I mention talkative? I kid her a lot, but really, I’m glad that she decided to start school this year. How else would I get to school? Seriously, though, I’m glad I got to know my chauffeur.
posted by Our Hero, at 11:30 PM
5 Comments:
... so where would you like to live instead?
To be honest, I'm not too sure why that question was asked. But I can answer it.
I guess if I didn't live here, I'd probably live somewhere that everyone speaks English as a first language. I suppose I would live somewhere with hot summers and cold winters. I like the change of seasons. I guess that means the nothern US, southern Canada, or the UK. But I'm actually really happy here (the reason for my unsurity why the question was posed in the first place).
You have a very understanding wife. Mine would never let me drive around with a “wonderful, intelligent, funny young woman.” Actually, she would be pissed if I called anyone other than her a “wonderful, intelligent, funny young woman.”
My dear wife knows that there's no one that could get my attention off of her. I can say what I like because there's no danger of me finding someone to run off with.
hahaha thanx for the compliment :D
p.s. I do not French kiss my animals hihihi
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