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Ur doin it rong


This isn't really a Frosty-related post, as usual, there's kind of a point that I'm getting to...just taking the scenic route.

First, I'd like to explain a bit about the picture above. Frosty lives in a house with 13 roommates. When someone moves out, they all get together and dress up with different themes and make a photo album for the person.

The theme for this particular picture being a 1920s family photo where everyone is sitting around with stern looks on their faces (you can see the full picture if you click to expand after the post).

In general, I love this photo because it's adorable. The idea is fantastic and I'm such a sucker for a good idea pulled off superbly. In particular, I love this photo because Frosty is wearing a suit. I just get a kick out of it.

I wouldn't call it a limitation, but I know that in real life -- there's no place or circumstance in which I would see Frosty in a suit. I suppose, if I were someone who got off on dressing up this might bother me, but it doesn't. At his late great-grandmother's 100th birthday memorial celebration/family reunion, I wore a dress...he rocked sweatpants.

Where am I going with this? Your guess is as good as mine.

Frosty is my European boyfriend...or so I thought. I mean, seeing as how Germany is in Europe and Frosty is German. And all Europeans are the same everywhere on the entire continent.

But maybe you can understand my confusion as to Frosty's European-ness (hehe -- say that fast and it sounds like Euro-penis). How can you blame me? If you look at it from a U.S./cultural imperialist point of view, he's full of those filthy European commie ways -- all that egalitarianism and social responsibility is awful, isn't it? Rabble, rabble, thurrtakinourjebs!! Ahem *cough cough*

Anyway, as it turns out, I've been doing it wrong this whole time. I don't think he's European at all. Not since I saw the video below on how to meet (and identify?) European men. Sorry Frosty, you don't play enough basketball (since when is that a sign of Europenis anyway?) or say your name enough in a "suave" foreign accent.

I can't blame him completely, though. Maybe my eyes aren't dead enough....maybe I don't do enough costume changes or weird enunciation of words...maybe there's not enough cheesy elevator/porn music playing in the background when we're talking.

Despite his good-lookingness in a suit (even with the crookedy tie, which is completely adorable), I still have a ways to go.



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