Tuesday, May 17, 2005

My ancestors are spinning in their graves

and posthumously removing me from their wills because I totally forgot that today is Syttende Mai. Uff da!

Go here to read last year's over-researched post on this Norwegian high holiday.

Normally I wear something red on Syttende Mai. Today I'm head-to-toe in fetching shades of gray. But I'm wearing a new shirt with a collar that seems to have been sewn on with sharpened fishing wire, so a big chunk of my neck is turning all red in a scratchy, scabby kind of way. So there's that.

Of course, my true Norwegian nature would have me suffering in stoic silence. But instead I'm whining about it here like Tom DeLay with no homos to shoot.

Anyway, despite my abject failure as a son of Norway, I hope all of you have a lutefisky happy Syttende Mai today. I'll be too busy looking for new ancestors to adopt me. (I've always thought it might be fun to be French. Because I can totally spell fromage without looking it up.)

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