If you wanna fight us then, FIGHT US THEN!

Honey, I'm home. Back in ol' Sweden. Not too happy about that. These three days could might as well have been three weeks. I'm sore. But I had lots of fun.
Learned some new things: Ben is in fact not scary at all. He is probably one of the best persons I've ever met.
Emilee is small but she walks fast.
Jon is, according to Ben, the worst waker-upper ever. I believe him.
The same Jon has never heard the word "vespa", or drunk freshly squeezed orange juice - "It tastes like a real orange!" - or heard a Fergie song.
Apparently it's really hard for someone who speaks English to pronounce the "sju"-sound (number seven in Swedish). And the Scanish "r"-sound. Like in "klåfingrig".
It's illegal to shoot on the streets of London. But I knew that already.

I already miss my all-singing all-dancing friends. But I'll see them again in March. Until then I'll just have to watch all my footage. And update this blog. I guess.

Move bitch, get out of the way.