Cold Hard Bitch = Kald, hard tøyte

As my hands flutter away across the keys of my sister's laptop, writing this piece of awesome, I consider to a great extent to jam toothpicks under my increasingly heavy eyelids. A weekend at a cabin with family and friends takes it's toll on my beautysleep, and you do not want to undereastimate my beautysleep. My reckless sister (the one who's laptop I am not writing on) decided this morning was a nice one to wake me up by going ballistic in my room, bouncing around the wall until I was awake. This day has not been a pleasant one for her, mark my words.

Alas, my grumpyness and wish for the immedient dismemberment of my charismatic little sibling, is not my topic of today. Today, I will ramble on about... saunas.

"Waterbug, has you enigmatic mastarmind run dry of ideas?" You might ask, but no. It has not.

The sauna, for those not already enlightened to it's purpose; is when a person, or a whole group of (more often than not) men, by their own free-will choose to shut themselves inside a small wooden room, only clad in towels and with an oven from hell on the wall. After a short while the temperature will ineviteably rise, and air-moistness will gain a whole new meaning to the participants. After sweating for a while, the soaked pieces of meat within the sauna will re-emerge, and cool themeselves down with a cold shower (nothing compares) while the more manly men (and women) will throw themselves out through the door, and into piles of snow.

"What the devil's beard is going through the minds of these fools?" One might ask, yet this is a tradition that has survived here in the frozen north for many ages. In theory, the sweat you produce cleanses your pores, and washes away all the dirt you have actively collected on your body. When the water or snow is later applied to the heated bodies, all dirt is removed, an a feeling of unparalelled freshness is experienced. The contrast of incredible heat in the sauna, to the freezing claws of the snow is amazing, and highly reccomended.

My point is; if you have never tried to sit in a sauna until you sweat your glands off, before throwing yourself into snow, you have never lived. Well, you can at the very least not call yourself a northerner.

By the way, the conversations that occur when a group of sweaty lads sit tightly together with nothing but a hankerchief to cover their johnsons, is priceless.