Thank you God for Norwegian women.

Thank you God for Norwegian women.

Well, I've left Nairobi now and am in Busia. Am I happy to have
finally left the dirty, polluted, dangerous city of Nairobi? Not at
all. I spent my last night there hanging out with five
drop-dead-gorgeous Norwegian nurses. Maybe I'm just especially
forlorn these days, but holy crap. I haven't generally considered
myself as being into blondes before, but holy crap. And those blue
eyes. Holy crap. The whole time I was thinking about a discussion in
Chuck Klosterman's "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs" about how Norwegians
engage in the most frequent casual sex of any western people.
Unfortunately Henrietta didn't seem to catch my telepathic vibes that
we totally needed to make out. Or maybe she caught them and my
discussion of how fjords reminded me of fractals and how the research
project I'm working on is great because the econometrics are so easy
thanks to randomization turned her off. Oh well. At least now I know
that all that talk about Scandinavian women is not just urban legend.

I also met a pilot for an NGO that is pretty sure he's run guns to the
Lord's Resistance Army in northern Uganda and an Israeli that got out
of the IDF by feigning psychological problems. Well, half "feigning,"
half "having."

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