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Da Movies:
Earlier this week Fanta and I went to see Batman
Begins. Not bad. A few holes in the plot, but hey nobody's perfect.
And to start the movie Fanta alerts everyone to
the faulty subtitle translations. "Hey she just said Sally when it says Sarah. Come on is anyone paying attention?" she yells
out while watching a preview for a horror flick. I'm sure the audience appreciated the heads up. Tack.
Sadly though,
I think this might be my last movie experience in Sweden. I'm gonna hold out until I can go to a real theatre that seats more
than 10, has stadium seating and no subtitles blocking half the screen. Sorry folks, that's just the way it is. Swedes here
have no idea what a real movie experience is like. I mean people have bigger theatres inside their homes (or so I've seen
on MTV cribs). 30 red velvet seats does not a movie theatre make.
All right, I've said my peace. And Dad you would
have loved to see this movie, if nothing more than to pick at all the holes in the plot. Like the fact that 200,000 people
are still inhaling halucinaginic gases in Gotham and Batman really didn't save the day yet. Ok ok I said I was done. But seriously,
it was better than all the rest of the Batmans I've seen, if that says anything.
The family Returns:
Come Monday night the Åleskog family will
be back from vacation and more importantly, back in the kitchen.
I predict that within five minutes of their return
Oscar will run upstairs and empty out his entire lego collection on the spotlessly clean floor, just for kicks, as only King
Oscar can. I'll let you know if the moment happens. Oh the suspense.
Memories:
This week we play a team that tied us 1-1. It was a rediculous match and one of great regret.
So after the game I
called home to explain things to the family. After a long drawn out explanation to my father as to how we could tie a team
at the bottom of the league, my father says goodbye, except he doesn't hang up the phone.
"I just can't see how they
could tie a team in last place. I mean I just don't get it Sharon, how does something like that happen?" And on and on he
went about how disgusted he was.
"Dad, dad!," I start yelling to alert him to the fact that I can still hear him.
"Oh did I forget to hang up the phone? Sorry bout that."
I can hear my mother laughing in the background.
It was actually quite funny listening to him rant and rave about the game. So this week I've received a few messages from
him as to how we are supposed to kill this team. Is 4-0 good enough? If not, just give me a call and you can rant and rave
all you like.
Football Diaries: A Journey Through Sweden
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