Ethiopian Vehicles
Ethiopian Vehicles
First time I went to the US as an adult, I was shocked. When I stopped at a gas station to fill up the rental car, I noticed they sold beer at the gas station. And it was on sale. My norwegian mind almost exploded
The tomatoes my local big brand name shop sells is atrocious. If I buy them from a speciality store or a store owned by immigrants, the fruits and vegetables are infinitely better and the price is not that bad when compared to the brand name shop
The damn Viet Cong 😒
I had a friend who hated tomatoes. I’ve served him tomato soup several times without him knowing what it is, and he fucking loved it!
And he used (poured) ketchup on everything
It is very a arctic way of speaking/writing. “Isfrie havner” (ice free ports) is a norwegian way of saying “warm water port”
Excellent song by Radiohead 👍
All I get your first comment, is your crippling insecurity
That is why I only block ads when I’m on a plane 👍
“Laks” in Norwegian. “Røykalaks” is smoked salmon
I’m not American either, and I have no idea how much I pay my union. They’ve made sure I had several increases in salary in addition for the yearly rise, and I get several insurances for a better price than if I were to buy them for my self.
Last year the collective raise wasn’t that high, but they made sure my colleagues with lower salary than me got it instead, and I expect the same thing will happen this year.
I’m totally fine with that because that is what I voted for to happen. My salary is good enough for now, and I want to make sure others are taken care of.
An “anti-anti fascist centrist”. What the hell!?
Ouch! You should stop applying logic to anything. Forever.
Hungary for land
And you have a hitbox that is quite a bit larger than normal, and various health style related illnesses dependent on the free flow of medicine
Psycho killer, qu’est-ce que c’est?
Fa, fa, fa, fa, fa, fa, fa, far better
Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away
Of course. I would look like a fucking monkey if I didn’t
It was a beautiful Norwegian summer. The sun was out, the rain had stopped and the midges was not out (yet).
I was around 8 or 9 and only wearing a pair of shorts feeling the sun kiss my shockingly white skin, while I carried our cat outside. She was laying over my shoulder. She purred and purred. It was bliss.
Then my mother pulled the cord and fired up the lawn mover. The cat used me as a ramp as it took off and ran inside to hide under the couch.
As a man in my 40s, I have both physical and psychological scars from that day.