swedish idioms painfully literally translated into english
- now you’ve shat in the blue cupboard
- the taste is like the butt
- there’s no cow on the ice
- i sense owls in the marsh
- to walk like a cat around hot porridge
- don’t paint the devil on the wall
- to be out biking
- cake on cake
If you don’t mind me adding to this wonderful post, here is also the meaning of these colorful idioms.
"Now you’ve shat in the blue cupboard": You’ve gone to far/embarrassed yourself
"The taste is like the butt": this is only half of the idiom, the rest goes "-split". It means taste is subjective.
"There is no cow on the ice": Don’t worry/there’s no hurry
"I sense owls in the march": I sense something is wrong (often mischief or a betrayal).
"To walk like a cat around hot porridge" : To be hesitant to bring something up in a conversation.
"Don’t paint the devil on the wall": Don’t make the situation seem worse then it is.
“- To be out biking”: To have no idea what one is talking about/ to be completely wrong about something.
"Cake on cake": an unnecessary repetition.
idk why ppl act like funny women are a rare precious commodity when every woman i know is a got damn comedian and i’ve met maybe two intentionally funny men in my lifetime
"There is no shame in being hungry for another person."
"The first time he calls you holy,
you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
The second time,
you moan gospel around his fingers
between your teeth.
He has always surprised
you into surprising yourself.
Because he’s an angel hiding his halo
behind his back and
nothing has ever felt so filthy
as plucking the wings from his shoulders—
undressing his softness
one feather at a time.
God, if you’re out there,
if you’re listening,
he fucks like a seraphim,
and there’s no part of scripture
that ever prepared you for his hands.
Hands that map a communion
in the cradle of your hips.
Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
He confesses how long he’s looked
for a place to worship and,
you put him on his knees.
When he sinks to the floor and moans
like he can’t help himself,
you wonder if the other angels
fell so sweet.
He says his prayers between your thighs
and you dig your heels into the base of his spine
until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue.
You will ruin him and he will thank you;
he will say please.
No damnation ever looked as cozy as this,
but you fit over his hips like they
were made for you.
You fit, you fit, you fit.
On top of him, you are an ancient god
that only he remembers and he
offers up his skin.
And you take it.
Who knew sacrifice was so profane?
And once you’ve taught him how to hold
your throat in one hand
and your heart in the other,
you will have forgotten every other word,
except his name."
Fun drinking game: take a shot for every chapter you’re behind in textbook reading.