Expat Jon takes on the world (well... Sweden)

The airport security process (that's probably more of an inconvenience than a deterrent) has driven me to dress like I'm going to a slumber party whenever I fly.  I don sweatpants, easily removable shoes (once sports sandals) and my trusty Okayplayer hoodie.  The sweatpants are comfortable, but they also do not require a belt.  I breeze through security (wallet, keys, etc in carry-on), kick my shoes off and throw them in the bin.  I laugh in the face of the security agent that asks if I have anything in my pockets or if I'm wearing a belt.  Stupid question.  I'm Expat Jon! Miami was still Miami on my recent trip, so I had no use for that hoodie or those sweatpants once we landed.  My first order of business was to hang them up in the closet until it was time to head back to the lovely Swedish weather. Sure enough, on the last day, my travel outfit was waiting for me.  I took my shorts off and put my sweats on.  I was ready to get home...

The bed has always been a special place for me. As a kid I was a professional boxer beating up my opponent (pillows) and then not letting him fall so I can beat him up some more for my fans.  Or a running back in the NFL trying to continue my streak of NEVER being tackled.  EVER.  Just laying sideways with my pillows as attempted tacklers and the wall as the ground I sprinted across at a lighting-quick pace. I can recall checking to see if my brother was asleep yet so we could whisper about... girls.  I used to see the men on TV shows get in arguments with their wives and end up sleeping on the couch.  I vowed at the tender age of six that I would never be that guy.  The bed was mine.        - If she's mad, then she should sleep on the couch! I still feel this way.  If I sleep on the couch it's because I dozed off while watching the game or a movie.  Not because Swedie's mad.  Maybe I'm lucky because we don't have...