Abba, my semi-offensive Swedish observations and some questions

OK. Not sure where to being with this. I have basically cranked out 3,000 words in half a day today—and I just reread them and they are actually GOOD words.

I did this while also taking frequent breaks and posting a ton to the board. And the only explanation I can come up with for my superhuman show of prolific writing is that I have had iTunes blasting Abba songs for the last 5 hours (much to the chagrin of the people in the offices on both sides of me). I don’t mean a mix with a lot of Abba. I mean ONLY Abba.

Mind you, Abba sort of fits into the Billy Joel category for me. It’s a guilty pleasure that makes me feel like a huge dork. At this moment, Waterloo happens to be blasting away from the computer I am writing on, and my lower body is doing moves that haven’t been seen since Rerun started to groove at that Doobie Brothers concert on What’s Happenin’.

I rarely listen to Abba, but I have just about everything they ever performed on my iPod. Yes, I know this will cause many of you take out restraining orders. And yet, I don’t care. They are like heroin. When I get into a strange mood where I am hankering for them, like I did this morning, the first note of Frida or Agnetha’s voice can put me into a weird Forrest Gump-like trance. Anything is possible. It isn’t full-proof. And I have to use my Abba muse sparingly, because overuse would render it ineffective. But I’ll be damned if there is anything other than those four happy Swedes that could have put me into the zone I’ve been in today.

Does anyone even remotely relate to what I am talking about?

While I am on the topic, perhaps someone can explain some things to me, too. I have a huge crush on both Frida and Agnetha. Actually, what I feel is slightly dirtier than a crush. But that’s for another discussion. My question is—and this seems to be a Swedish thing in general—how can I have any faith in a world in which perfect women like them end up with two guys who look like bearded Barney Rubbles?

This really is a Swedish thing, in general. If I have a “type,” it is definitely the typical Swedish woman. I mean, how can you not love a country in which even the ugly women are hot?

But what perplexes me is this: How can a country be filled with so many hot women… and men who mostly look like chinless muppets? (For a time, I thought there might be exceptions to this rule, such as Magnus Magnusson and the other dudes you see on ESPN at 3 a.m. pulling locomotives with their teeth, but it turns out he’s from Iceland).

Can anyone provide answers?

 

You know, if you take the pads off the one on the left and introduce her to a woman who knows something about make-up, I am sure I would be all over her. Maybe it's just me.