23 June, 2009

Consider ABBA time ruined.

Say it's a hundred damn ass degrees on your day off. You have a few Colt 45s to cool off and a few becomes a few more because sweat keeps running down your brow and dripping on to your glasses. After these few more Colt 45s, you decide that it is imperative that you bump ABBA ferociously loud. You decide that it's a great idea to play "Fernando" twice in a row. You decide to go to a favorite internet discussion forum to express your drunken, sweaty, shirtless love for ABBA.
You find a two year old thread on the subject and there are links. You start clicking links. One of these links takes you to a YouTube video of a commercial for the hotel that Benny from ABBA owns. He wrote the three minute, ten second jingle (still not as long as the Charlie Perfume jingle) with Bjorn. It is while watching the first seven seconds of this commercial that you think you see someone. Someone familiar. Someone who, say, ruined your fucking life. Is it the heat? Is it the malt liquor? What is this hazy filter of irrationality that is occuring between the screen and your eyes then again between your eyes and your brain?
So, you keep watching. You can't peel your inebriated eyes away. You think you see this person once or twice and nope, it's not them. But then you see them. Again. It is indeed your ex-fiancée's Swedish Doppelgänger.

God. Damn. It.
Consider ABBA time ruined. May as well just keep drinking at this point.

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