Dear dry cleaner

Dear dry cleaner, today when I dropped off a white rug at your place, it was all rolled up and I told you there was a stain and you asked "what kind of stain, is it coffee or wine or what is it?". I said "it's dog poop" and that was a lie.

In your opinion, what's worse, dog poop or kiddie poop?
Lying in your own best interest

-the end consumer

Dear Fiat

Dear Fiat, in a time when one should consider not driving at all or at least a whole lot less, you know what you've made me do?
Dream about owning a Fiat 500.

It's become my motivation. I will work to have my own little Fiat. I might not even drive it. I just want it. Consumerism at its worst. Congratulations, you've seduced me. Now the only problem is deciding which one of the 549 936 combinations I want.

To be honest, I really want the original 500, but safety first, aesthetics second. Sad but true.













-end consumer on wheels

Speaking of Zabar's

Any of you reading this live close to Zabar's? I'd like to buy some coffee,but they don't ship overseas. Could you help me?

-the very picky end consumer

Dear Zabar's

Dear Zabar's, somehow one doesn't trust you with that Spanish.

-the end consumer

Dear Maxi Cosi

Dear Maxi Cosi, next time you plan to put a new product on the market, please contact me. Your new pram, named Maxi Cosi Mura may sound fine in any other language. In Sweden it'sa little too much like MaxiKussimurra. That would be like Maxi Coochi. Not what you were thinking, was it?

You need my help.
-the end consumer

Dear inventor of the English language

Dear inventor of the English language, I bet you had a blast when you invented the word orthotics. Let's laugh at people with funny feet. Especially the non-native speakers. Inventor of the English language, you're a mean bastard. I hope you need orthotics too!

-the end consumer

Dear, beloved, treasured Fiorentini and Baker

Dear, beloved, treasured Fiorentini and Baker, you have made me such a very happy woman.
I have written so much about the trials of my feet, but now, for the first time in AGES I have great news to share with those of you who share my strange fate, that of human beings born with duck feet.

The answer to our prayers is Fiorentini + Baker, Italian boots with style AND room for inserts.
Sure they're expensive, but cheaper than surgery and do not require sick leave.
Halleluja.
Spread the word.

I'm saving up to visit their store in Bologna.
Join me if you can.

-a happy end consumer

Dear Spårvägsmuseet

Dear Spårvägsmuseet, you have singlehandedly restored my faith in humanity. When people try to tell you we live in the age of the greedy individualist, Spårvägsmuseet shows their trust in their fellow man.

They have a cafe, filled with delicacies. But no one is working there.
Instead, they have a "help yourself and pay when you leave" policy.
The cashier is far, far away.



















I love this policy so much, it's a joy to shop there. It's so naive, so foolish, so wonderful!
I buy things I hardly even want, just because I so appreciate the trust in my honesty.

Thankyou, Spårvägsmuseet!

giddy greetings
-the end consumer

Dear McDonalds

If you click this picture, you can see static electricity appear before your own eyes!

Dear McDonalds, I once lived in the States. Because I did, I sometimes crave artificial tastes. I know you say everything at McD is real, but come on! It's better than real so it has to be fake.

I specifically crave your breakfast items, such as the McMuffin Egg & Bacon, which may or may not have harmed a single animal. (Or married, what difference does it make?)

You stop serving breakfast at 10am.
I arrived at my local McDonalds at 09.58 am. There was a line. When it was my turn, I ordered my McMuffin but was told breakfast was no longer served! It was 10.03 am.

How ridiculously rigid is this policy?

I'M SO NOT LOVING IT!
Disappointed greetings from the end consumer.

Ps. Please stop it with those balloons for the kids! My kids have Swedish hair and don't need help with the static.

Dear Post-it®

Dear Post-it®, today I was the unwilling, unknowing victim of a vicious attack, made possible by you. All day, I walked around, smiling innocently while my back told the world a different story.

I saw Vanja scribbling something on a piece of paper this morning.
But never could I imagine what she had planned!

At dinner, Anders asked what I had on my back.
Appalled, I realized I'd been wearing the Post-it® for some ten hours.
We inspected it closely.


















"Jag älskar ksit".

For those of you who don't speak/read Swedish, that translates to
"I love hsit".















Had my daughter not been such a poor speller, people might actually have thought I was a poop lover.

You made this possible, Post-it®.
What do you have to say to your defense?

Upset greetings
-the end consumer

Dear Mr Police Officer

Dear Mr Police officer, you stopped my car in the street yesterday.
You asked to see my license and then made me blow your thing according to instructions.
You wanted to know about my recent alcohol intake, but perhaps was too shy to ask?

I was so happy.
If I was stopped by the police, it means I'm actually driving! Finally!

I'm making progress. So happy.
-the end consumer

Dear H&M

She's getting fatter, I'm getting mom jeans.

Dear H&M, I see you just bought the Cheap Monday jeans empire. Good for you. Good for Örjan and Lars.
I have another denim-oriented idea.

I know you sell maternity jeans.
But how about after delivery?
When you can't wear your regular jeans? And are too sick of your maternity wear that you can't wear them even if they are the only things that fit?

I'm talking mom jeans. But not the regular kind.
I mean nice jeans, but jeans you only wear for the few months when you're in between jeans.

Interim jeans.

When you're not quite yourself yet.
Not a (pregnant) girl. Not yet a (back to your old self) woman.

Like the jeans I'm wearing now, they were fine a month ago when I purchased them, now they already have that Gällivarehäng-look you anglos call baggy.

This is how it'd work. You'd sell flattering denim in regular sizes with a small metal badge attached to them. As the wearer slims down by the help of breastfeeding, long walks or sudden flu attacks, she comes in to the store, shows the badge and gets to buy her next pair to a great discount.

What do you say?

Moms all over the world will thank you. So will the people who love them but hate the sight of their exposed behinds.

INTERIM JEANS!
I'm giving you this idea for free.

love from
-the end consumer

Dear Dad

Dear dad, thank you for trying to surprise my kids by using magic to bring eggs out of your pockets.

Too bad you didn't hear Anders when he told me someone had cunningly/mischievously mixed up the hard boiled/soft boiled signs.

You thought they were hard boiled when you put them down your pocket.
I feel for you.

And thought you kind of saved your ass when you confessed to the kids:

"It was real magic! I put down hard boiled eggs in my pocket and now they're soft boiled!"

The thing with kids though, is that they try to repeat other people's tricks!

In other words: HIDE THE EGGS!



















love
-the end consumer

ps. I know you were once referred to as a "good egg". But you can chill with the egg tricks for now. Easter's a few weeks away.

Dear beloved clog

Dear beloved clog, see how I so cherished the idea of wearing you that pain or logic couldn't stop me?

I know that clog looks like it's a medieval find from a bog, but it's my shoe. And there are people on facebook naming me among their top fashion friends! The fools!



















Feet must be punished.
Prison garb must be donned.


















-e

Dear Swedes

Dear Swedes, I recently took a trip up north.
You Northern souls are the weirdest!
We passed the oddest places.
Tandsjön. The lake of teeth. Take a dip, why don't you.

But my favourite spots were Ångersjön and Njutånger.
That's something I think you'd only find in our fair nation.

Ångersjön. The lake of regret. We've all found ourselves swimming in it.
But Njutånger, that one's a little harder to confess.

It translates to something like "Enjoy regrets". I think they mean it. It's not ironic.
They're being positive, seeing things from a different perspective up there.
Have regrets? Enjoy them!

I'm starting today.
-the end consumer

Dear Apple

Dear Apple, it was an ordinary day. The baby was asleep, I was ready to mail some friends. But the t-key wouldn't co-operate. I decided to investigate.

This is what I found:















How did this happen?
What is that lint stuff?
Computer elf pubes?
Did my cashmere dreams materialize inside my laptop?
This is how I had to spend my morning:















Am I the only one with this problem?
How do I avoid it?

-the end consumer

Ps. Egg & keyboard jokes not welcome. Or what the hell, jokes are always welcome.

Dear Enzo Mari

Dear Enzo Mari, thanks for creating the apple of my eye! And the apple of my kitchen work space!

Love
-the end consumer

Dear Lonnie Bruner

Dear Lonnie Brunner, you ask me to tell you 3 things I learned the hard way.
That's so easy!

1. Don't mix food and work! That means: don't eat by the computer!

2. Don't tell your 2,5 year old to "stay where you are" and leave him next to a snow racer on the top of a ski slope!

3. Don't drink and carry Christmas trees!

Experienced greetings from the end consumer.

Dear Smosch

Dear Smosch, I love your handmade buttcrack characters.
How soft is a buttcrack in alpaca?

curious greetings from
-the end consumer

Dear De Cecco

Dear De Cecco,
why is there no label on your pasta about eating it somewhat naked?
It tastes so much better!














Full greetings
-the end consumer















Ps. No not all of these kids are mine, but sometimes I wish they were.

Dear Baby

Dear baby end consumer,
I hope your bout with the RS-virus is almost over. This isn't how I'd planned your 11th week. I'm sorry and will try to make it up to you.

Love from
-the end consumer

Dear Hasbeens

Dear Hasbeens, are you the answer to my prayers?
Is this my future?












I pray, pray, pray it is.
Will return with report.

Greetings-
the end consumer

Dear United Nations

Dear UN, I have made a tribe of my own, the little Frosts.
They sound and look the same. I think they should count as a small nation/minority people.
How does one go about registering a new people? Do they apply for any kind of grants? Can we have a chair at your meetings?


greetings
-the end consumer

Dear Skeppsholmen Realtor

Dear Skeppsholmen Realtor,
do you really think it responsible to put out insanely pretty ancient hotel Duvedsgården for sale? Don't you understand what you do to Swedish moms who've read too many Agatha Christie novels?

You pretend like it's just your job to sell houses.
Then you give us a glimpse of a life that could be ours, as the proprietors of a little hotel.
We'd take care of business here:



















I just opened the morning paper. I was prepared to read about famines, wars, environmental gloom and tax evasion. Never did it occur to me that I would become the next victim of realtor induced stress.

You break up homes, uproot children from their homes, make women make wild propositions to their spouses about a life in the North, far away from friends, family and international magazines.

Why do you do this?
Concerned greetings from
-the end consumer

Dear man of the house

Dear man, you are away at a dinner party with your friends.
Your mom took care of our kids.
I walked for five hours.

When I say that I love and need you, I mean it.

My dinner consisted of 1 cherry yogurt and 12 meringues.
That's no way to treat a lady.
Even if it's the lady who's treating herself.

Happy Valentine's day
-the end consumer

Dear Lidingö tidning

Dear Lidingö Tidning, I love living where the action is.

Ps. Fuck Danderyd.

Dear Acne

Dear Acne,
once upon a time, a long time ago, I saw the most perfect ankle boots on a pretty blonde (Susanne Dahlqvist if you need to know). I stalked her down and asked where she'd found them. They're Acne, she tells me.

I go to every Acne retailer in town and finally find a pair in my size. They're so hot, I'm drooling.

I pay and drag my prey home to my cave.
Unfortunately, my feet are the shape they are.
My life is challenged by this sad equation of shapes, flesh and bones.















I'm growing up. I realize it's not possible. I'm selling my babies.
And the reason I'm writing you about this is that I suggest you put a warning label on your shoe boxes: Caution! Content may cause lack of judgement. Not suitable for ladies with wide feet.

Here's my boot thinking about a bright future on the foot of another happy lady.



















Greetings from
-the end consumer

Dear maker of cats

Dear cat maker, I like cats, but don't really trust them. It feels like this:














love from
the end consumer

Dear Nikon

Dear Nikon,
thank you for making such a great little product as my new friend.
enabling me to bear witness to what it's like to take a walk inside a Toast catalog, right in the heart of Stockholm.

The colors of this strange winter are rich and dignified.














The air was damp but fresh as I walked past my dream house, pushing my infant daughter in that black stroller.















She's small but very pleasant company.














We had lunch together.















THANK YOU NIKON!
love from
-the end consumer.

A great night for nothing

I thought I was going to start blogging in a great way, but am currently being held hostage by a tiny human, holding me down by the neck, pressing me against the back of our couch.

I was going to write about fashion and my lack there of. I was going to tell you how I'm not allowed to buy anything that doesn't look better the more you wear it. Anders tells me that means I'm doomed to wear nothing but denim and leather. Please tell me if you know other material that ages well.

I was going to sell my old clothes on eBay, but presenting them and their stories here first.

But I can't find my camera.

So all I can share is whatever pics I can snap with the built-in wonders of my mac.

like the one above. small bald baby not for sale. mother's clothes all up for grabs to the highest bidder.

love
-e