Attention readers, I have an announcement: Birkir Bjarnason shall sire my next litter of babies, and I don't care that I can't pronounce his name.
Have you heard of something called genetic diversity? It's very important to the healthy perpetuation of any species, especially humans, and it's something the tiny Nordic country of Iceland struggles to achieve in its isolation.
That's where I come in. I, with my Semitic roots in the great course black hair belt of Eastern Europe and in the equally swarthy and hirsute Mediterranean climes of Turkey and Spain.
I first met Birkir at a bar in Juneau, and by "met," I mean watched him on a flat screen TV as he kicked a soccer ball around to much acclaim while my head was buried in my second of two margaritas.
That's when I knew it was fate. It was meant to be! This Icelandic, hot AF soccer-playing Jax Teller doppelganger who is literally nicknamed "Thor" and I were destined to do humanity a favor, and I was supposed to have my next litter of babies with the 28 year-old soccer phenom. This, I knew, was probably my last chance ever to realize my true potential as a certified cougar and my only chance to do something Truly Great for the entire human race. I intend to make good on the promise of the future.
There's only one remaining problem: How do I get to know all of his friends and ingratiate myself with his family and my babies' future uncles and grandparents when his team is composed of the following individuals whose names are so very impossible to pronounce?
Gylfi Sigurosson, Elour Guojohnsen, Kolbeinn Sigporsson, Hannes Halldorsson, Alfreo Finnbogason, Ragnar Sigurosson, Birkir Mar Savearsson, Theodor Elmar Bjarnson, Ari Freyr Skulason, Ogmundur Kristinsson, Haukur Heiroar Huaksson, Runar Mar Sigurjonsson, and Gunnleifur Gunnelifsson?
I'm afraid I'll never be able to pronounce or spell any of their names, and frankly I need a special Icelandic keyboard even to type them. But at least I have some guidance on what to call our future babies. I'm just going to slam my forehead onto my non-Icelandic keyboard for inspiration.
Here we go . . . Aaaand . . . I can't wait to meet sweet little Ahsdfoiawejrsdafladj and Kwrouildgfgvnb!
By the way, do you think Birkir knows Bjork? I'd also love some front-row tickets to a Bjork concert at some point.