He is killing me.
On Pierre’s Bday, some years ago, he decided to host a dinner/party/soirée. Splendid idea, I figured, since I had my friend, Christin, over from London. Maybe it would be nice for her to spend some quality wine-drinking time with the people across the pond?
We were going to a nice little restaurant and of course, Pierre and the Swedish A-team (consisting of me, Christin & Camilla) were late.. Pierre, who has the tendency of always, ALWAYS, being late, freaked like a little Bday boy and was very strict to the taxi driver, forcing him to drive a little bit faster than the “recommended” speed limit. What an influential man!
As soon as we hit the restaurant, we started the feast that consisted of ribs, grilled chicken, T-bone, salad, mashed potatoes etc. We were all pleased with the food – except for the vegetarian, Christin. To make a long story short: she did not get very full. After the dessert that I hovered down my throat (PURE DELICIOUSNESS IT WAS!), my man opened his gifts. A designer lamp, macaroons, a football picture (awesome!)… and a helium, in-the-air-swimming, radio-controlled shark..
“Ok, this is special”, the Swedish A-team mumbled.
But the shark was nothing in comparison to the culture difference that followed. Apparently the French like, no LOVE, helium. It was the funniest thing in the whole wide world (for the French) and one after one of the homies inhaled the lunatic-making air that made them talk in high-pitch voices. It was funny to the extent that people choke on their own laughs and fell of chairs. I didn’t know if speed-dialing 911 was an option?!
Anyhow, after the shenanigan, the party continued at Rue Leriche. Everyone helped out assembling the great white, which after an intense discussion were named Håkan. This was the start of a weird relationship. Håkan the lunatic lived with me and Pierre for months, but in a slightly thinner condition considering his poor diet of helium.
Wicked by M. 