“First we toast…

then we suck back the schnapps!” announced the Freaky Dane.

We were at our first-ever, real-life smorgasbord, complete with Tuborg beer and nasty schnapps. The little sandwiches were divine, dark pumpernickle with Havarti cheese, pickled herring (couldn’t.bring.myself.to.try.), shrimp, Westphalian ham, pate, eggs and toppings like red pepper, cucumber, asparagus and tomatoes.
Freaky Dane made a meeeeelion of them.

We sipped red wine during the sandwich-making show, then when we sat down to eat we were given a tall beer glass of Tuborg and a leetle schnapps.
I could barely take a sip of it (I am so not a schnappy girl). But the men.
They couldn’t suck those suckers back fast enough.
‘Skohl’! Chug chug. (Increase volume).
‘SKOHL’! Chug! Chug! (More volume). Chomp chomp.
‘SKOOOOOHHHHHHLLLL, BABY!!!!!’ GLUG! GLUG! (mo-no-sy-lla-bic grun-ting, followed by laughing and much back-slapping).

The women folk WERE amused.

And they continued to suck back the Schnapp’s until two botles were polished off between five guys. One. Shot. At. A. Time.
To finish off the lunch, choclates were served, the kind with liquor in them. Many bottle-shaped chocolates had their bottle necks chewed off, contents emptied into uncomprehending mouths. After ‘dessert’ the men rose clumsily from the table and through slurred words and giggles made their way downstairs to the home theatre.

We pause for a quick design critique:
Neal, your use of colour in the home theatre is the perfect complement to the darkness required for viewing, well done. The only thing that’s missing is a new sofa. What? It’s in the bedroom? You bought it from IKEA? What’s that? It’s Swedish for ‘Won’t fit through a normal doorframe?’ Oh, you Danes, always envious of the Swedes, no? Oh, and there’s no gas fireplace in the home theatre. It’s just not the same. What? Oh, yah the new speakers. You win this round.

And we’re back.
The menfolk have let the table and staggered down to the home theatre and within minutes host, Jen, the good, kind, wife abruptly hands me two babies (cousins, combined age: ten months) because Flaky Dane has projectile vomited OUTSIDE the bathroom door. Wall. Floor. Baby seat.
She began to clean up while I played pass the baby (to other people). I like babies, especially these cuties, but I’m still harboring nasty germs.

Anyway, Neal disappears, upstairs, snorning like a sub woofer on Star Wars, then another one falls asleep in the den, another on the chair at the back of the home theatre, and yet another is almost asleep except he is interested in watching the movie. So where is the husband? In the office on the computer? No. Not in the home theatre or main floor, I checked upstairs. Neal: snoring in the master. coats on one sons bed, crib in another and there, in the little bears room lay husband-locks, covered in a baby blankie, fast asleep. He’s like a dead-guy when he sleeps there is no movement or breathing sounds.
He mumbled something about staying to watch more movies.

In fact, he’s still there. I packed up the five year old.Sweet, kind host, Jen said it was ok for the husband to stay and I assured her I would pick him up tomorrow.

So, smorgasbord= (you’ll want to eat) smor, gas (self explanatory) bord, (the state your body becomes when you’re passed out cold from the nasty schnapps).

Those Danes, chuckle chuckle, they kill me. No, really.