I’m talking to a friend late one night online.
Friend: “Your alarm sound is technically your theme song since it plays at the start of every episode.”
Me: “My theme song is apparently the sound of my cat trying to get behind the closed blinds.”
French Tourist: “Aidez-moi, s’il vous plaît.” (Help me, please.)
I help him with directions.
Friend: “Was that French?”
Me: “Yep.”
My friend tries to tell the tourist, “Nice to meet you.”
Friend: “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” (Would you like to sleep with me?)
The tourist and I just stared at my friend.
It turned out that someone had told my friend that meant, “Nice to meet you,” in French. After realizing that, we all shared a good laugh.
When I am a naive student in the UK, I hear on TV that in Sweden they eat rotten fish, called “surströmming”. The show’s host, Stephen Fry, holds up a tin, but says he isn’t allowed to open it in case the audience passed out.
I am intrigued. I want to try some, but I can’t find it anywhere— not locally and not online at any price. I phone a friend in Sweden.
Me: “Hey, I want to try some of this surströmming. Do you know where I can get some?”
Friend: “Really? It’s absolutely rank. We only eat it outside at BBQs and things.”
Me: “Yes, really.”
Friend: “And you can’t find it locally?”
Me: “Nowhere. I’ve checked for hours.”
Friend: “Strange. They sell it everywhere in Sweden. It’s easy to make; you just catch some herring and then put it in a barrel. It ferments for six months. Or nine months if you’re totally nuts.”
Me: “Can you send me some?”
Friend: “Sure. I can get 1kg for about 300 krona, but I don’t have Paypal. You’ll need to send me cash in the post.”
Me: “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Friend: “I hope this isn’t part of some prank? Also, we normally eat it with a bread called tunnbröd. I’ll send you that, too.”
I convert pound sterling to SEK300. I put it in an envelope and send it to Sweden. Two weeks later, a package arrives. It only has the tunnbröd. The surströmming is missing from the package.
Me: “Hey, I didn’t get any fish.”
Friend: “You mean it didn’t arrive?”
Me: “No… it arrived, but there’s no surströmming.”
Friend: “Oh, crap. I know what’s happened.”
After a quick check on Google, I learn that couriers really do NOT like rotten fish. I phone the courier to ask them about it. They put me through to the freight airline they used. The employee is clearly Swedish and understands what happened.
Me: “I was expecting a package of surströmming, but it seems to have been removed from the package.”
Employee: “How was it packaged?”
Me: “In a tin, in a cardboard box.”
Employee: “Tinned surströmming… You know the way it’s already rotten when it is made?”
Me: “Yes?”
Employee: “That’s an ongoing process. It continues to ferment in the tin and it makes more gas.”
Me: “In a sealed container?”
Employee: “In a sealed container, in a confined space, with low air pressure, and many other goods. We have no way of knowing when that tin will go pop.”
Me: “…and send rotten fish everywhere?”
Employee: “Exactly. In the interests of air safety, we X-ray everything and remove surströmming tins. Sorry about your fish; you won’t get it back.”
Me: “Thanks for the thorough explanation. They really should think about the packaging.”
My Swedish friend and I split our small loss and went on our way. I have yet to taste surströmming, but I am organising another batch of it. I’ll try surface shipping.
Me: “Huh. Did you know that women’s hearts beat faster than men’s?”
Male Friend: “That’s because we’re so d***ed beautiful.”
Me: “Are you sure it’s not from trying to run away from all the creeps?”
Female Friend: *Chuckles*
I’m part of an online roleplaying group like Dungeons & Dragons. We’re starting a new and very small campaign to set a backstory for another campaign, consisting of me, two other players, and the Dungeon Master.
We are pirates, and I become the captain due to a dice roll. We’ve been told to introduce ourselves, and our only dwarf — usually a very prepared player — isn’t prepared.
Dwarf Player: “My name is… uh… Gregor… Erm…”
Me: “Sparklebeard.”
Other Player: “Yes.”
Dwarf Player: “No!”
DM: “I think your captain knows what her first mate’s name is.”
Dwarf Player: “When was it decided that I was the first mate?”
DM: “Just now, Sparklebeard.”
Dwarf Player: “My name isn’t Sparklebeard.”
Me: “It’s your stage name.”
Other Player: “Yup, ‘cause you’re a stripper.”
Me: “Yes. You dump glitter in your beard and strip; that’s how you got the name.”
DM: “Is there a set time where he does this?”
Me: “On the weekend.”
Other Player: “And only when drunk.”
Me: “That’s why he’s foggy on the subject.”
Dwarf Player: *Laughing* “Fine, I’ll take it. I’m a gay stripper on the weekend when drunk.”
DM: “Wait, a gay one?”
Dwarf Player: “If I’m being a pirate stripper, I’m being a fabulous one.”
Me: “We don’t judge on this ship.”
Fast forward later into the campaign. We’re victorious in a pirate battle, and thus, we start drinking. During our drinking, we’re ambushed and we’re struggling in that battle.
Dwarf Player: “Wait! Am I drunk right now?!”
DM: “Roll for drunkenness. Low is drunk; high is sober. If you’re drunk, you have to roll with two dice. If you get a one, it’s three.”
The dwarf rolls and gets a four.
Dwarf Player: “Right. I dump glitter in my beard and strip to distract the enemy.”
He rolls again and gets a seventeen and an eighteen.
DM: “Well. It works. The enemy is completely distracted by you.”
We proceeded to win the fight on the back of this roll. Later on, we also managed to sneak into a fort by using him as a stripper-gram. It was a very successful campaign.
This story was featured in our May 2020 roundup!
