My bad luck in the franco-sphere continues! I had tickets to a French ‘romantic but complicated’ movie (Mon pire cauchemar) but I had to stay late at the office (brand and website are launched tomorrow) and (once again) I hadn’t paid attention to where the cinema was located and it turned out to be on the other side of town. So that was twelve bucks and I’ll never see again!

Tonight is just one of those nights were I wish I knew more people. I’ve only been here for five weeks so it’s not surprising that I don’t know that many yet. However, it would have been so nice to go for a spontaneous dinner after (late) work and maybe have a drink or two. Instead I’m here alone, in my kitchen, mumbling to myself. Oh wait! A mouse just scurried across the floor!
Be my friend! And please don’t chew on the gas pipe until I have moved out, I’m in no mood to be blown up!

All by myself emma glee

I’ve started reading Huckleberry Finn thus commencing my journey through American literature. What could be a better start than down the Mississippi? The book starts with the following note from the author: ” Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished, persons attempting to find a plot will be shot.” Great start!



I had a wonderful weekend in Georgetown, also known as the preppiest area in DC where khakis and mismatched shirts and ties are norm and JFK proposed to Jackie (the restaurant always keep a chilled bottled of bubbles in case anyone decides to replicate the historical moment). It is a lovely area with red brick pavements and leafy green trees whose roots buckle the streets giving it a timeless feel.

Me and Angelica were lured to the area in the vain hope that there was a French market this weekend. However there was nothing French about it; American teen-pop blaring out from the speakers and not a baguette in sight. It seemed to be an excuse for the shops in the area to move their stuff from inside the shop onto the street, but why not just call it ‘Georgetown market’? Anyways, we did eventually find a French Bistro where we enjoyed fantastic savory crepes; italian sausage in one and saffron shrimp in the other, all washed down with a Flirtini. The most ridiculous drink-name to date. But God it was delicious!


Flirtinis all around!


Shy lunch companion.

After lunch we went to the best ice-cream place in town: Dolcezza. The salted-caramel was like entering into heaven! Salt and Sweet! Sometimes you can have it all. There was also a ‘cucumber vodka mint’ flavour, which tasted like regret. But perhaps that’s just my experience with vodka.


Yup, those are rune tattoos. I ran into a fellow Swede! We chatted a bit and I asked him how he ended up in DC to which he responded: ‘To make a long story short: Ex-wife’. Ouch.


Delicious cakes from Argentina with vanilla and caramel.

After feasting on italian frozen milk we went to Urban Outfitters ‘just to have a look’, 45 minutes later we emerged with lovely accessories that I will not bore you with here (but I can say that the pink-leathered bunny-eared phone case is a dream come true) only to to throw ourselves into Sephora, a place were you cannot help but feel inadequate in all things beauty-related. Not to mention that there are enough scents there to give a dog a nervous breakdown. Still, I’m happy with my summery-shimmery blush.

We continued our odyssée to Rosslyn were we met up with Angelica’s housemate Mike and his friend Mike (simple enough. From now on I will call anyone I meet Mike) and went to Ray’s Hell Burger, and as the name indicates: it was one hell of a burger! Juicy and succulent full of flavours that spoke of sin and regret. All washed down with a ‘Soda’ (black cherry), now a soda is basically a fizzy drink times about one million. I like sweet things, always have, but this was sweet enough to give you diabetes after one zip. My colleagues said today that I made a poor choice, Root Beer is apparently the thing you should drink with a burger (it is not made out of roots, I asked).


Archenemy of the Tooth Fairy.

On Sunday, I met up with Kristen, a new acquaintance, and we had ‘the new cupcakes’: luxury donuts! Oh yes! Big and glazed. Unfortunately, my phone isn’t cooperating so I can’t upload any tempting photos, that is for a later time. When the frenzy of summer-diets hits a peak, then they shall all be posted. All three of them.


A bloody racket

The thing about group-houses is that they could be the greatest constellation of people you have ever met IF you have certain values in common, such as not moving furniture up and down the stairs at 4 am in the morning. Jay in the room next door is by far the most inconsiderate, piece of shit that I have ever shared house with. He ticks all the boxes of dick when he: leaves dishes and food all over the kitchen (the other day I found two crabs in a plastic bag on the porch. As if no one woud notice if he just left them there in the heat), Shagging loudly (Now this is ok per see, but why on earth does he need to bang the women against the desk that then slams into my wall making my bed shake and framed picture above my head nearly fall down? This was ok the first time, but the consecutive times is just inconsiderate, as I pointed out to him to which he responded :’Why aren’t you getting some?’. Fuck off.) and last night: moving the desk from the living room up to his room at four a.m.

This house has been a great stop along the way and I have gotten to know Chris and Erin, whom are both lovely, but I really look forward to my new place near Eastern Market.

This is what I plan to do my last night in the house:

woman banging trays


Work Ethics

Since moving here I have encountered the ‘American Work Ethics’, which can be described as ‘Guiltily working 10 hours every day’. I have on numerous occasions been told that in Europe, people have a much more ‘relaxed attitude to work’. Swedes have never been identified as ‘relaxed’, during our entire existence, just as we’ve never been described as ‘easy-going’ or  ‘pleasure-loving’. That would be the Italians.

There are a few things that have made me raise my scruffy eyebrow and mouth ‘WTF’  here in the US: such as memos being sent out about being polite despite there being pressing deadlines, only to be followed by snarky and frankly rude emails or that all issues are equally prioritised such as uploading pictures no one has glanced at for the past two years and launching a new brand and website.

Today I had another american-workplace-encounter when the internet broke down and we all had to work from home. I am approached by my manager saying that everything needs to be done today and I politely say that I will do my very best and absolutely work all the hours required (we finish at 5pm and it is FRIDAY) when she then says that everyone works overtime and will be working over the weekend. Yes. But you all get paid. There is a difference. Perhaps, only perhaps, if we had not focused on the ‘photo-management’ for the last two weeks but rather the more important tasks at hand, things would have been less stressful. But what do I know? I come from such a relaxed work environment. Still, I’m sure they’ll write something great on my Letter of Recommendation. Oh wait, I’m writing that myself by the end of the internship, as required by my contract. Already started to formulate it: Strong work ethics (particularly over weekends) and great tits. Give her the Nobel Prize of Awesomeness and hand keys to your Ferrari immediately”


Me+ Mac= BFF

Like a pandemic the chocolate-frenzy hit and I had to do everything in my power from not running out scraping the pavements for some leftovers (I’m still not sure where the shops are around here and my housemate Rachel got mugged the other day, exploring is therefore not an option). BUT! I decided to go for some vanilla yogurt (non-fat, sugar-free, but probably containing nitro-glycerin) and all of my berries that weren’t rotten. Tasty!


It’s not that I mind working hard, I just get annoyed when there is a presumption that I wouldn’t. But never mind! Now I’m going to put on some MC Hammer and rock the website content.



My ears had a near-climatic experience tonight! Erin, Chris, Derek (Zoolander) and I went and saw Rhye at a Synagogue and it was absolutely fantastic. There is nothing more wonderful than being in the presence of musicians who use, almost abuse, but above all, LOVE their instruments. They know how far they can push them and bring them back, much like I understand how jazz-musicians do when they ‘free-style’. As the band is on the verge of breakthrough they hung out with the audience afterwards, signed LP’s and thanked everyone for coming. The record is very much sex for all the senses, and , I think, a perfect soundtrack for some intensive love-making, something the violin player agreed with.. He also told me that it had been thoroughly tested by the members. The wanton-tone could also be the result of recording in a hot, sweaty appartement in east L.A. I got all the band members to sign and I’m still trying to get over the fact that the singer is a man, a married man (his wife was there helping to sell the LP’s and CD’s, and she was gor-geous).


Chris (my housemate), his girlfriend Erin, Derek and me.


The gig was in a Synagogue, Sixth & I, and it was quite extraordinary to listen to a concert of non-religious character (read: oozing of sex) in a place of worship. Apparently they are quite a popular concert venue and host many events and artists throughout the year. Erin told me that many churches and synagogues do this, something I really think is the way into the future for many of these establishments: bringing people together with something positive and joyous they can relate to.


Signed LP! I have been thinking for a long time that I would like to start collecting records and get a LP-player. Off to a great start!