Homeland Happenings and Other Horrible Things

I really don’t want this blog to be political or filled with complaints from me. Sure, I can sarcastically discuss and laugh at some of the silly things going around in our societies, but there is also where I draw the line. That said, this post will be a bit of an exception, since I will touch on some topics that are very much in in my native country right now.


As I have mentioned in previous posts, I have been living and working abroad for almost a year now, six hours ahead in the time zones compared to where my family is. Consequently, the only real connection I have with the daily happenings of life in my native society is through what my family occasionally tell me through texts or emails, but mostly what I see and read on Facebook that my Facebook-friends share.


Living in a developing country, rather than a developed country such as my homeland, you look at life in a different light, like you’re getting more appreciative for what you had back home. Things like health care, law and order, corruption, poverty… All of those things are taken for granted back home. Here, all those things are everywhere. Sure, I am fortunate enough to have a great life here, since I am an expat (in my country, I’d be an “immigrant”), but my countrymen does not realise how lucky they are to be living where they live (still trying to be as anonymous as I can be, not revealing my roots). 7/1-2016 Update: Fuck it, you all know by now, I’m Swedish.

All I see people talk about is sickeningly, tiring things. For example, the other day, I saw some guy share an article complaining that kids at some kindergarten didn’t get to have any strawberries on a Midsummer’s Eve celebration, and blamed the immigrants for this.


How the hell is this the immigrants’ fault? The kindergarten company (sounds like a joke, by the way), or the county, or whoever and whatever it is that governs this particular place, should really be thankful that their lives are so comfortable that that’s all they can complain about. And this douchebag who shared this article, also blaming the immigrants for the “poor children don’t get to have any strawberries because of those people” incident, should try to open his small, stupid eyes, thus allowing his cement-head to realise that he is insanely lucky to be who he is, to be where he is, that there are much worse things that can happen than that, and be appreciative for his skin colour and all the possibilities that comes with it.

If it’s not any “blame the immigrants” posts, it’s something about extreme feminism, and the much-discussed topic of quotas in order to increase the number of women in powerful positions or in different professions, like the “we want more female firemen since there are too many men being firemen compared to women” argument. Sigh.

Since I’m a sane human being, I’m obviously all for equality and equal rights for men and women. And looking at some statistics, women are underpaid compared to men when doing the exact same job. That’s just not right. People should be compensated for their competence and what they contribute to their companies, and not be specifically rewarded for being either male or female.

This is obvious and normal and I don’t get any extra points for thinking this.

But is it right to force women to join the fire department just because they’re women? What if some other dude is more skilled at being a fireman, why wouldn’t he get that spot in the force? Obviously, the same goes for female-dominant professions. If a man is more skilled in a female-dominant profession, he should have that job because he’s more skilled than the competition, not because he’s male. Isn’t it better to let the forces of supply and demand determine who should be working where?

Now that I have finished my little rant, the point I’m trying to make here is that being abroad makes you forget about tiring discussions and luxury problems like these. Which is nice.

* *


Unacceptable beings.

Earlier this year, we decided to escape the big city and go to Phuket for a few days. There, we had a house guest in our hotel room in the form of a lizard. We named him Lizzie – not giving a shit whether Lizzie was really a him or a her.

Anyway, he was really nice, and didn’t cause us any problems. Although, we were kind of lying scumbags to him, giving him the impression that we liked his presence. Secretly, we called the hotel staff and they scooped him out into the wilderness, where he can play with his other, colour-shifting non-human friends. Even though he didn’t harm us, and didn’t look like a small monster like roaches or other bugs do, we took note of his presence since we don’t meet his kind very often back in our condo in Bangkok.

Also in Phuket, we had a short meeting with a large, colourful spider, sitting way too close to the door handle, and therefore making it very hard for me to open the door in front of my girlfriend and not look and sound like a little bitch. It was kind of big, and super yellow, and looked like the definition of poisonous.

After I took an embarrassingly amount of deep breaths, I manned up and slowly approached the door handle with our card in order to open the door and enter our room. Knowing that spiders are unpredictable, jumpy little fuckers, words like slow and steady were key ingredients in my strategy.

Almost at the finish line, my girlfriend got the brilliant idea to suddenly fill in with, “watch out so it doesn’t jump on your face”. Like a little bitch, I panicked and immediately stepped back and showed my true self, which currently was a 7-year-old girl afraid of spiders.

Everything after that is kind of a blur, but I think my girlfriend opened the door and we quickly rushed inside.

Also, the balcony door was apparently not closed one night, which, in the land of moths, mosquitoes and flies, means there’s a party, and they had VIP tickets. So we also had to deal with that.

Anyway, flying back home to our condo, we were grateful not to have these issues at home.

After the world’s largest jinx ever, we were greeted one foot inside our apartment by the most hideously-looking roach in the universe. He had been having a little party while his roommates were on vacation. He actually looked kind of shocked when he saw us, like, “this is a surprise I thought you were coming home tomorrow and not tonight you were not supposed to see me hehe FML k bye”.

He stood in front of the mirrored door that leads to our laundry machine, thus doubling his appearances. We panicked and he panicked, and he ran under the mirrored door and hid under the laundry machine. This time, had to take action.

Making a long story short, I got his ass with the vacuum cleaner and emptied him in the garbage room in a big trash can, and closed the lid, shaking and sweating intensely as I did all this.

Since then, we have been seeing roaches about on our floor by the elevators, all dead on their backs, embarrassing themselves. Apparently they all die on their backs, since their exoskeleton is too heavy for their now dead legs to carry. So their dead little brains say “fuck it” and just roll over.

We have also been noticing a couple of friends of Lizzie’s around here, and a cousin of the yellow spider has also stopped by to say hello.

How nice of them.


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