Tips And Advice For Stella, As She Leaves For Iceland

To: stella@cartoonbirdsbraidmyhaireachmorning.com

From: me@ourlitigatorsarebetterthanyourlitigators.com

Re: Iceland: A Traveler’s Guide By Me

My Dearest Stella:

As your Beloved Friend and General Voice Of Reason, I thought it necessary to share some helpful suggestions before your impending trip to Nordica:

  • Do not walk/fall/trip/otherwise go off the edge of a glacier. It won’t end well.
  • I am under the impression that there are a lot of nude/topless hot springs in Iceland. While you know my policy about States Of Public Undress (i.e. DON’T DO IT), in the context of Naked Old People, I especially advocate avoidance. Nobody needs to see that. Plus, it’s a given that saggy boobs are in our future. Do you really want a preview?
  • You are going to a place that still doesn’t utilize last names. Should you and Mr. Oates have a falling out mid-trip and you decide to enact Relationship Insurance Policy Provision 26, Subsection B (you know, the one that allows you to have a spur-of-the-moment revenge date), please be wary of guys named Sven Son Of Sven (aka Sven Svenson). Especially if you meet two of them within a five mile radius. It could be a Junior/Senior situation and macking on a father-son-combo is just gross, even in a foreign country.
  • Is this the first time you’ll be in close enough quarters that you’ll be forced to shit/fart around Mr. Oates? If so, I recommend constipation. It’s a universal fact that smelly poop is a romance killer.
  • Iceland has no standing army, navy, etc. This bodes well should you or your traveling companion decide to stage an impromptu coup. All you’ll need are sporks and willpower.
  • As much as Mr. Oates is gonna to harass you about it, avoid eating the National Delicacy. Rotted shark meet has gotta be Iceland’s version of Montezuma’s Revenge.
  • Mr. Oates strikes me as the type who’d advocate naming his child after the place of conception. Little Reykjavík will totally get his butt kicked on the playground. To wit, use protection.
  • Speaking of sex, the Mile High Club is overrated. And possibly felonious now that you can’t congregate around airplane bathroom doors. Please note: I am too broke to bail you out at this time. Nor am I familiar with the intricacies of international money wire transfer things. You land in a Nordic Jail, you’re staying.
  • Iceland apparently has twice as many sheep as people. Learn the local word for “bestiality” and if anybody says it around you, run.
  • You’re traveling to a place that is so eco-friendly it probably doesn’t have TP but instead makes do with steam bedays and fresh snow. Plan accordingly.
  • Should you find yourself in an awkward situation with any locals and need a joke to ease the tension, I’ve got one… “What do Icelanders eat for breakfast?” (wait for it… wait for it… WAIT FOR IT!!) “Ice Krispies!” *Rim shot followed by a well-deserved groan*
  • Icelanders consume more Coke per capita than any other nation. Not really a helpful suggestion, but a nifty fact none the less.

Yours In Hair Braiding And Other Assorted Girlyness,

Me

PS – I expect a souvenir. Nordic Vodka?

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7 Responses to “Tips And Advice For Stella, As She Leaves For Iceland”

  1. Maxie Says:

    I’ve never had the desire to join the mile high club…unless it’s a private jet or something 😉

    Does it count then?

  2. Mr. Oates Says:

    We’ve put a BM moratorium in place for Iceland… Hopefully this moratorium is more successful that ones past.

    Rotted shark is off the menu, but I’ll be damned if we don’t eat Shamu… At least a puffin.

    – Mr. Oates

    Having established that you are in fact the real Mr. Oates, let me just say, I big pink puffy heart you for commenting. And also, if you get Stella to eat anything Icelandic, I want photographic evidence.

  3. Stella Says:

    Dearest Katherine,

    Thanks for all the sound advice! Although I think the greatest risk of death-by-glacial crevasse would be at the hand of Mr. Oates, should he indeed impregnate me with Little Reykjavik. And where might I locate a copy of this Relationship Insurance Policy? Surely there must be a clause in there about going out with a Hooters waitress after agreeing to travel internationally together. I feel I am owed damages, in addition to a revenge date with Sven Svenson.

    Yours in Icelandic Vodka Appreciation,
    Stella

    My darling and beloved Stella:

    I can provide an updated Relationship Insurance Policy to you 24-48 hours after the submission of a written request. If memory serves, it includes provisos regarding Hooters waitresses, women “working their way through college,” and anybody who has tried out for the Real World. Additionally, I am happy to outline a supplementary document detailing your demand for damages. But Mr. Oates did suggest this trip, even while in a drunkie state of mind, so your claims might be mitigated.

    Do you think you could get me an authentic Norseman Hat? With horns? I suddenly have a desire to be Hilda The Viking Lass for Halloween ’10.

    xo, Katherine

  4. LiLu Says:

    I expect to share in said Nordic Vodka… kthxbai

    That’s assuming I get some and not some postcard of naked old Icelanders in a hot spring.

  5. Columbus Travel Gal Says:

    Ask her to bring you some Brennivin. It’s made with potato pulp & carroway (sp?) seeds & often referred to as “Black Death.”

    (The only time I’ve seen my big, tough, rugby playing, hard partying friend [you get the picture; the guy was a monster] EVER get sick from drinking was when he drank this. I was mortified b/c he actually threw up on the bar at the Hard Rock Cafe’ Reykjavik. The Brennivin was like “the straw that broke the camel’s back.” Immediately following the incident, he sneaked away to find a cab back to the hotel & I was stuck with the insanely expensive bill, a million apologies to the bartender & waitstaff, and finding my own cab back to the hotel.)

    There’s also another potent liquor that they sell there. Can’t remember the name of it right now, but it actually has big pieces of lichen in the bottle. A bottle of that is a great conversation-starter when company is over & they open your freezer & exclaim, “Where in HELL did that come from?!”

    Ohhhhh! Black Death. Totally my new “must find.”

  6. ella Says:

    i have sporks. can i go too?

    You’ll have to ask Stella. But since she’s not letting me come, it seems doubtful.

  7. freckledk Says:

    Little Reykjavík is going to be the name of my first born, boy or girl. No matter – they can suck it.

    The day that child is born, start a therapy fund.

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