Winter wonderland be damned

Winter wonderland Oslo may not be. The first snowstorm has made this vibrant city into a former Soviet republic in the late 80s and I don't care for it. I'm to thin for below zero temperatures and wind might easily knock me over.
Not to mention that since I'm no longer living in horrifying yet exquisite solitude, in a government owned silo, I now must overcome my hatred of other people and their habits and individual gross'ity.
As today when I, as the only un-hungover person (in the world probably), had to endure the smell of hungover men. I cannot elaborate on the unfathomable smell, because writing the words to describe it would make me vomit and reading them them would undoubtedly make you vomit especially in your, presumably, fragile state.
To escape the horrid smell of my disgusting roommates whom vomit in their rooms, climb in windows and bleed copiously while at it, I would have had to climb inside a large animal of some sort to keep warm.
Luckily I'll have to spend the next three-four days indoors in lukewarm libraries, if I can get up in the ungodly enough hour to get a seat at a Stalinesq desk and an uncomfortable and often broken chair in a leaky library called Sophus Bugge, writing to home-exams.
Ah, what doesn't one do for a completely useless Bachelors degree?
So, let it snow, let it snow, let it FUCKING snow!

Hare Krishna

Siren