The Quiet Night with the Catalans

 On Saturday I was so certain that I would have a quiet night in, which meant reading a lot and writing my home-exam. Since others were warming up in the corridor, I joined them and was planning to drink one beer, just to be polite. I stayed longer than I expected. One moment we were listening Skrillex (sorry God, for I have sinned) and suddenly I could see the ceiling. No, I was not drunk.Yes, seven Danish guys were so into wobble-wobble that they lifted me up in the air and bounced me up and down. Fun. Then Catalan people showed me some dance-moves and shared a drink with me. So the story began.

 In my hand you can see the "polite beer", so innocent:

I did not take any pictures before like 2AM, when everyone on my floor were sleeping and I invited people into my apartment to make less sound (I guess we failed in it). German girls joined with us:

Worst. picture. ever. yet. so. funny:

They have good music taste and they know it:

He put on everything that I own. Hot as hell:

Can you tell who is who?:

I woke up in the morning with a hangover and there was a sofa in my room. A bloody sofa:

Catalan approval:

I rotated this pictures and was so mind-fucked:

Zuuuupah!:

Let's ignore gravity:

My room was the best club in Stockholm that evening:

Must book a plane ticket to Barcelona!:

Sven was still not impressed:

Put your hands up if you like Mister Obama:

Three times is a charm:

"BAM! Easy!"

Bootylicious:

Pure joy and the mysterious Ping-pong pad, that I stole: