How DO you feel about penguins?

A long time ago, back in 2006, I was on Myspace a lot.  I know, I know.  We’ve already established my dorkness.  No need to bring it up again.

But I’d been blogging there, sporadically, and I’d asked my friends for a list of topics to write about.  (It had absolutely nothing to do with me being lazy about coming up with stuff to write about on my own. No, really!)  I had a lot of fun doing it, and since my brain is a big ball of mush from party preparation and lack of sleep from a certain little girl who kept me up all night again and who is, as we speak, playing in the floor at my feet instead of napping like she’s supposed to, I thought I’d post one here.  With edits.

This one was about penguins.

Penguins.  Well, what can I say about penguins?  The very first thing that comes to my mind is this possibly Swedish guy I met in Vienna.  We had lots of parties in the studentenheim where I lived, and I really only saw this guy when I was supremely drunk, which is to say, all the time.  Because of this, though, his face is kind of fuzzy in my mind.  I do remember that he had a very bad haircut.  It was kind of like a longish bowl cut.  And blond.  Because he was Swedish.  Or something.

I don't think he lived in the same building that I did, but he was around a lot.  Probably for the alcohol and parties.  We had some of the best parties that I've ever been to, before or since. 

I was warned ahead of time about this guy’s issues with superiority, mainly that he thought he was better than anyone he met, especially Americans.  (Just to give a little background, I was in Austria when Bush the Younger was just trying to go to war with Iraq.  Not exactly the best time if you know what I mean.  America and Americans weren’t thought very highly of as a whole.) 

This guy’s nationality was questionable because, in addition to refusing to tell anyone where he was from, his English was really good with barely any accent.  This is not something you want to admit to someone who thinks so highly of himself.  But I did anyway.  In my defense, though, beer was so cheap and the Spanish girls made lots of very strong sangria.  My god I miss that stuff. 

But I digress.

So, why does this maybe Swedish, bad haircut having, very arrogant guy remind me of penguins? 
Because at every party, late at night when most everyone was so very drunk, he would go up to random people and say, “How do you feel about penguins?”

The end.