This isn’t the farthest a Narbonic gerbil has traveled–no one beats Speedy–but it’s damn close.

Andrew and I saw Bjork at a BART station in San Francisco a few years ago, when her boyfriend the Cremaster dude had a show at SFMOMA. It was late at night and the station was almost deserted. We saw this little girl running around who looked like a tiny Bjork, and then a full-size Bjork went by and we were like holy crap that was Bjork’s daughter. To this day, we still refer to the Montgomery Street station as the BJART station.

I think every guy I’ve ever dated has been a Bjork fan. I don’t know why that is. I don’t have that magical Scandinavian pixie thing going on at all, although I do hate paparazzi. And that is the extent of my knowledge of Iceland. I’m sorry, Iceland. You look good in these photos.