There’s something to be said about Scandi food. And no, I’m not going to wax lyrical about the actual food because Lord knows I’m not the brightest foodie in the house, but seriously, those Scandinavians, are they tall and hot or what?
I mean, look at them. And then look at me. Oh you don’t see me? Sorry lower your gaze about two feet and oh there! There I am, three feet from the ground.
What is it that they feed these guys so they are super tall, super hot and super… well I don’t know if they’re all super smart but for arguments’ sake, let’s say they’re also super smart. Whatever it is they eat, I want some because I’m sure, I’m really sure, that at 30, I’m still growing, right?
Because I can’t be this short my whole life right? Right….?!
[…echo…]
Whatever. I figure that if I let myself loose on a Scandinavian smorgasbord buffet, I would have some semblance of a chance to grow an inch or two right there on the spot.
And if I don’t? Well, it still tastes pretty darn good… and with that excuse safely tucked under my arm, I headed off to Madsen last Saturday evening, ready for a Scandi assault.
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