It's hard to be cold when your blood is boiling

This weekend was a bit of a mix between fabulous and absolutely awful. To start, Friday was amazing. It wasn't cultural in any way, in fact we had an American night. My friends (and Sascha) and I went to see Valentine's Day which was pretty good. Mainly because it was extremely American. The three of us just about died while everyone else in the theater was quiet. Oh well. We then went to Hard Rock and ate delicious American food and everyone spoke English. Sadly they ran out of chicken fingers, but we had rather American sandwiches instead. Sascha and Allan did their weird touchy-feely-whisper-in-Danish thing the whole time. Overall, we enjoyed reminiscing about old American culture. We ended up singing old Barney songs (if all the rain drops were lemon drops and gum drops......) and were happy, happy children. Eventually I'm sure we'll feel this way about Denmark, but we're getting overwhelmed and not exactly pleased. At least I'm not. I'm leaning towards it's because my host family is insane. Which brings me to Saturday.

So Sascha has been talking about having a Fastelavn party for a week or so now and I was getting excited because I'd actually get to experience a real Danish holiday/celebration. It seemed really interesting because one of the activities involved beating a cat out of a barrel (at least historically). So I wake up Saturday, shower, get ready, get excited. Party was supposed to start at 2 so I started watching the opening ceremony around noon. Her friends didn't show up until at least 2:30 and the party didn't start until about 5 minutes until the torch was lit. So I go out to the table to partake in the festivities. Ate some not-so-tasty rolls that Sascha made. Aand for the next while realized (in this order) that they all spoke English well and we're planning on talking to me at all. I was under the impression that this party was a chance for me to meet her friends and experience a Danish party, but apparently I was an inconvenience. It hurt a LOT and I went in my room and cried and then consoled myself with some pokemon. And subsequently retreated to my juvenile tendencies and gave them a little bit of the silent treatment. And yelled at them continuously in my head for the next many hours. Tonight Sascha's mom comes to dinner and they also speak only in Danish all the time and it makes me feel extremely unwanted. I imagine tonight will be the night where we have this discussion. We'll see. I'm getting to the point where I don't want to be here anymore. Like, I want to stay in Denmark but I never want to go home. Agh. (Sorry this is so disorganized, I'm trying to multitask a little bit)

Anywho, I promised you a picture of a bog person: