Saturday, September 06, 2008
Obama Biden McCain Palin
Instead of blowing a gasket on the back end of the cynical and laughable (Romney I'm looking at you) Republican Convention, I've decided to post of serious of well written links as a resource.
As many have written, and I could not agree more, this election is about judgement. But how do we predict future "judgement." It's an imperfect science but I think you start with fundamentals like intelligence. From there, you cast a vote for Senator Barack Obama.
The Bush administration had as much experience, in terms of years, as you could ever hope for. But when you hire people on the basis of whether they are pro-life or not, you get the shit storm you deserve -
On McCain's weak judgement:
http://www.economist.com/world/unitedstates/displaystory.cfm?story_id=12066224
On McCain shifting to the fringe of his party:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/05/opinion/05fri1.html?em
On the nauseating nomination of Sara Palin - something for your discomfort:
http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/09/04/the-mirrored-ceiling/?em
An eloquent piece from an editorial that should be shared with as many people as possible.
After watching the last 3.5 nights of the Republican Religious Right lovefest, I walked away confirmed in my view that the Republican Party is the party of a quasi-political-religious zealot mentality that preaches God, country and family values but practices the politics of distortion, deceit and hatred. How else to characterize a convention of delegates filled with such self-love and contempt for anything or anyone that differs from their own views.Watching John McCain last night, I realized that what he experienced in that Vietnamese prison was indeed a life-transforming event, along the lines of St. Paul's conversion on the road to Damascus. However, in John McCain's case it appears that his conversion was to the religion of patriotism/love of country that called him to be the new Messiah. This dovetails nicely with the religion of the right. My country right or wrong and believe what I believe or keep silent.During the past eight years, the Republican Party has taken this country down the road of cynicism, bitterness and resentment in the name of god and country. In spite of his attempt to disassociate himself by not mentioning the Party's name, John McCain was and is a member of the Republican Party. In unveiling his new role of Messiah of a new movement to clean up government, he expects us to believe that he can cleanse his party of all that has brought us down and lead all of us together to the promised land of fixed government. The problem is that he has sold his soul to the religious right and their beliefs in order to win the nomination; they own him lock, stock and barrel and will never allow him to wrest control of their firmly entrenched hold on the Republican Party. Any attempt to change policy in this country that runs contrary to their beliefs will not be allowed to stand.It's time to truly change the direction of this country by removing the last vestige of Republican control from the Executive Branch and allowing a new mindset to lead us in a new direction. The Clinton Era is now history, it's time that we put the Bush Era behind us and strike out in a new direction. Barrack Obama, with his call to transformation in the way we see government, would seem to be the person to bring us together so that we can collectively take charge of our future.
As many have written, and I could not agree more, this election is about judgement. But how do we predict future "judgement." It's an imperfect science but I think you start with fundamentals like intelligence. From there, you cast a vote for Senator Barack Obama.
The Bush administration had as much experience, in terms of years, as you could ever hope for. But when you hire people on the basis of whether they are pro-life or not, you get the shit storm you deserve -
On McCain's weak judgement:
http://www.economist.com/world/unitedstates/displaystory.cfm?story_id=12066224
On McCain shifting to the fringe of his party:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/05/opinion/05fri1.html?em
On the nauseating nomination of Sara Palin - something for your discomfort:
http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/09/04/the-mirrored-ceiling/?em
An eloquent piece from an editorial that should be shared with as many people as possible.
After watching the last 3.5 nights of the Republican Religious Right lovefest, I walked away confirmed in my view that the Republican Party is the party of a quasi-political-religious zealot mentality that preaches God, country and family values but practices the politics of distortion, deceit and hatred. How else to characterize a convention of delegates filled with such self-love and contempt for anything or anyone that differs from their own views.Watching John McCain last night, I realized that what he experienced in that Vietnamese prison was indeed a life-transforming event, along the lines of St. Paul's conversion on the road to Damascus. However, in John McCain's case it appears that his conversion was to the religion of patriotism/love of country that called him to be the new Messiah. This dovetails nicely with the religion of the right. My country right or wrong and believe what I believe or keep silent.During the past eight years, the Republican Party has taken this country down the road of cynicism, bitterness and resentment in the name of god and country. In spite of his attempt to disassociate himself by not mentioning the Party's name, John McCain was and is a member of the Republican Party. In unveiling his new role of Messiah of a new movement to clean up government, he expects us to believe that he can cleanse his party of all that has brought us down and lead all of us together to the promised land of fixed government. The problem is that he has sold his soul to the religious right and their beliefs in order to win the nomination; they own him lock, stock and barrel and will never allow him to wrest control of their firmly entrenched hold on the Republican Party. Any attempt to change policy in this country that runs contrary to their beliefs will not be allowed to stand.It's time to truly change the direction of this country by removing the last vestige of Republican control from the Executive Branch and allowing a new mindset to lead us in a new direction. The Clinton Era is now history, it's time that we put the Bush Era behind us and strike out in a new direction. Barrack Obama, with his call to transformation in the way we see government, would seem to be the person to bring us together so that we can collectively take charge of our future.
Monday, September 01, 2008
"Hockey Mom" let's one slip past the goalie
Haven't posted in awhile, but this political season has brought me back from the brink of chronic depression and writer's block.
I'm so enthused that I purchased an Obama yard sign. As uncharacteristic as a yard sign and yours truly may sound, it happened and it's going to be up for at least the next 60 days - longer if Obama wins. If he loses, it will be burned with the rest of my belongings as my fiancee and I move to Montreal to take refuge among the many fine cafes, oddly dressed french Canadians and robust selection of strip clubs.
The world is now learning that the 17 year old daughter of John McCain's affirmative action vice presidential pick Sara Palin, is pregnant. The daughter of the pro-life, evolution hating hockey mom is spiraling towards a shotgun wedding of her "choice." Right.
There is a chance that this, in some really bizarre way, plays out in McCain's favor. However I pray that it does not. I do not wish to see Bristol Palin's pregnancy become a political ploy - but it's too late for that. Her mother, Governor Palin, accepted all that comes with being the GOP's nominee's VP - including exposing herself as some one who cannot run her own household, let alone this country. Obama was quick to respond this story is off limits - but come on Barack!
Teen pregnancies result in evangelical and non-evangelical households alike, however there is a whiff of justice when a household that bans birth control of any kind, preaches abstinence and battles science from Darwin to stem cells has to cope with the biological realities of this life - not the next.
I'm so enthused that I purchased an Obama yard sign. As uncharacteristic as a yard sign and yours truly may sound, it happened and it's going to be up for at least the next 60 days - longer if Obama wins. If he loses, it will be burned with the rest of my belongings as my fiancee and I move to Montreal to take refuge among the many fine cafes, oddly dressed french Canadians and robust selection of strip clubs.
The world is now learning that the 17 year old daughter of John McCain's affirmative action vice presidential pick Sara Palin, is pregnant. The daughter of the pro-life, evolution hating hockey mom is spiraling towards a shotgun wedding of her "choice." Right.
There is a chance that this, in some really bizarre way, plays out in McCain's favor. However I pray that it does not. I do not wish to see Bristol Palin's pregnancy become a political ploy - but it's too late for that. Her mother, Governor Palin, accepted all that comes with being the GOP's nominee's VP - including exposing herself as some one who cannot run her own household, let alone this country. Obama was quick to respond this story is off limits - but come on Barack!
Teen pregnancies result in evangelical and non-evangelical households alike, however there is a whiff of justice when a household that bans birth control of any kind, preaches abstinence and battles science from Darwin to stem cells has to cope with the biological realities of this life - not the next.
Monday, April 23, 2007
LAMB JAM 2007
You've really done it this time. You let the shortest, stubbiest, best looking guy you know go to London, only to find yourself invited to another Lamb Roast classic. Your failure to get yourself off this invite list is only second to the fact that a lot of you once read this very blog. You thought to yourself, "gee, I wonder what adventure Will is up to in London. I should read it at work instead of bettering my own career." Since you have proven you are a glutton for punishment, I've got just the thing. Fire. Meat. Booze. Pool. Dogs. Larry David. Some of you might call those last items plagues. We call them ingredients to what is typically one of the most unhealthy days of the year.
When: JULY 14 to July 15
Where: Wellsville, Pennsylvania
What: A central PA ritual
Why: Besides the obvious reasons, this year we will be crowning the winners of the Miss Lamb Roast and King of All Lamb contests. Get your talent(s) ready for to be judged by a panel of lowlifes. Stoop low.
And by ritual, I mean get all necessary shots before making the trek. In addition, it would be wise to bring a tent and other camp gear because this year, although our bodies have aged poorly (let's be honest, most of us are not exactly open casket material), the plan is to rough it in the yard. For those with the gentlest of bottoms, there are some B&B's nearby. You better find one soon. And if you're gonna be that guy who arrives in a Winnebago, just be sure to bring enough coked-out failed models for the rest of us.
Please join if available. Post on the blog or or shoot me an email if you are able to make it.
When: JULY 14 to July 15
Where: Wellsville, Pennsylvania
What: A central PA ritual
Why: Besides the obvious reasons, this year we will be crowning the winners of the Miss Lamb Roast and King of All Lamb contests. Get your talent(s) ready for to be judged by a panel of lowlifes. Stoop low.
And by ritual, I mean get all necessary shots before making the trek. In addition, it would be wise to bring a tent and other camp gear because this year, although our bodies have aged poorly (let's be honest, most of us are not exactly open casket material), the plan is to rough it in the yard. For those with the gentlest of bottoms, there are some B&B's nearby. You better find one soon. And if you're gonna be that guy who arrives in a Winnebago, just be sure to bring enough coked-out failed models for the rest of us.
Please join if available. Post on the blog or or shoot me an email if you are able to make it.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Arrested Development
Remember them? Yeah you know, Mr. Wendle. He's still broke as a joke.
Saw them on Saturday at this free summer festival sponsored by a fruit company in Regents Park.
Just about the time Tennessee came on and the lyrics "take me to another place..." I was thinking the same thing.
No I'm not buying their new album that drops in September.
Still, f'ing random right? Plus the crowd was more suited for a Phish show than anything else. Thanks for the free grunge London.
Saw them on Saturday at this free summer festival sponsored by a fruit company in Regents Park.
Just about the time Tennessee came on and the lyrics "take me to another place..." I was thinking the same thing.
No I'm not buying their new album that drops in September.
Still, f'ing random right? Plus the crowd was more suited for a Phish show than anything else. Thanks for the free grunge London.
Friday, August 04, 2006
World Cup 2006 - Gelsenkirchen
As you may have noticed from the former tagline of this blog, I had tickets to the World Cup. A sporting event bigger than we Americans can imagine. A sport we Americans don't have a clue how to play. A sport my friend Peter Sayia and I have been (forced to) follow by living in England. Thank GOD we drank for 7 hours before and 5 hours after the Czech Republic kicked the shit out of the USA. Being there first hand, I witnessed the massacre. The beatdown. The thrashing was memorable. Basically some one from Eastern Europe asked for our lunch money and we gave. Then on top of that we collectively pulled our pants down as a nation and the water was cold. Embarrassing all around. POOR effort. I witnessed a timid attempt at sport.
Good work coach Arena for compiling a team of people that
A) have no testicles
B) have barely played together
C) you should be fired.
Thanks for the inspiration dbag. Pick up a copy of Fifa 2006 by EA Sports, buy a PS2 and learn about international play. Ugh. But who cares.
The real win came from the pre and post game parties. Off the hizzy fo shizzy. Every die hard soccer fan with a passport the US could conjure up seemed to be there. They knew the players, they knew who played in Europe and they knew how to drink before games. God bless.
There were some outstanding chants taking place in the streets as hundreds gathered wearing anything from Elvis costumes to the Harlem Globe Trotters (all impersonations were white). There's always the methodic, USA USA. But how long can you really chant that? I pulled off a solid 4 hours. Thanks to the boys of Southpark and creators of Team America, the masses began yelling America, Fuck Yeah. Actually a great cheer and sounds even better when old people and children are present. Problem was in the end team USA gave us little to "fuck yeah" about.
Some savvy lyricist came up with, Nobody likes us we don't care Nobody likes us we don't care Nobody likes us Nobody likes us Nobody likes us we don't care! 10 out of 10 on the truth factor.
I sang the Star Spangled Banner more times in one day than I have in the collective 50 baseball games I have attended throughout my life. Sickening. I can't stand that song now. Yeah I said it.
Win: I ate nothing but street vendor food all day, had a McDonalds burger at 3 AM because it was close the hotel and it was McDonalds - and somehow dodged food poisoning, loose stool syndrome or any other predictable discomfort that comes with the punishment I unleashed on my internal organs. I just read online that doctors have shown that if you drink 17 beers in a day you can dramatically reduce your risk of prostate cancer. Another day, another healthy prostate.
Loss: It has been reported that there were to be up to 40,000 additional prostitutes in Germany for the World Cup. Besides being massive soccer fans they were there to make some Euros. I saw none that I could identify. Huge loss. No sightings. No pics. No awkward walk by of some fat whore throwing out a BJ behind some one's VW in the parking lot. Oh well. Overall, it was pandimodium and a good ass time.
See for yourself.
This
...Is... How... We... Do...
Yes this event was 2 months ago. I've been trying to post pictures for 2 months. Thanks Blogger you nonfunctioning outlet for losers to post shit. Making me look bad. Damn.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Where have I been?
Everywhere really. Not blogging.
To be honest, a lot of the delay is Blogger's fault. Due to technical difficulties beyond my control, I have been unable to post pictures, thus rendering some of the posts I've had useless. Who wants to read when can just look at stuff. This blog started with nothing but text and a J-Crew pic of yours truly - no need to start progressing now.
Regardless, the tech issues have enraged me. Angry. Angry like why the District's income tax is 9% and VA's is 5.8%. This gives me one more reason not to move back into that toxic dump of crime and higher costs.
That said, the first trip back to the motherland in 6 months was great. The flight home was miserable but Betty greeting me with a Burrito Ultimo from Baja quickly rectified the situation. The first few days back in VA were spent repatriating at casa Alvarez. Then a quick trip to the real mothership Harrisburg (H-BLING) left me grateful to see my family. I knew everything was going to be all right when...
Avoided the 4th of July scene in DC like my test results after a weekend in Amsterdam. Instead I enjoyed some excellent guac, some PA beers and caught a movie with my sister and her "better half" - we saw Wordplay, the documentary about the NY Times crossword puzzle and the people who competively do them. You know the types, the quietly smart, the ugly, the girl at school you never talked to cause her head gear created a perimeter of 3 feet around her jaw. Also the very same people today who probably have accumulated prodigious amounts of wealth through saving and not having friends to spend money on.
July 5th meant only one thing - crabs with the Scatman. That really must sound weird to about 98% of this blog's readership. Oh well. It means I was in Annapolis eating seafood with old friends, talking shit and not catching fish.
The 6th I joined the Capitol Police's finest collection of hasbins for a Nationals game. Hi Pat.
Friday was spent prepping for the week's main event, the Lamb Roast (yes worthy of caps) held on my family's farm that Saturday. The Roast is deserving of its own entry and it will get one soon. Pics def necessary to explain the event. If you didn't make the guest list, think about why.
Sunday I remember a tinge of a hangover setting in.
Monday I went into the office to remember what cubes smell like.
Tuesday the 11th I was off to the rock.
Flight back to the UK was a gem. Sat next to a portly Indian (curry not casino) in her mid 50's on the way back. Somewhere over Greenland we were exchanging phone numbers and by the time we got to terminal 4 in Heathrow, we departed with a hug. It was really weird. Although I'm pretty sure I scored. She also offered to drive me to Costco if I ever needed anything. I told her I only buy chicken tikka by the plate, thanks.
One of the highlights since my return has been driving a manual transmission on the wrong side of the road on the wrong side of the car. Nothing better than looking up and to the right for your rearview and seeing nothing but door. I also enjoyed the fact that I drove in the England. It's like a skill set. For a really really pathetic resume - don't think I won't add it.
"So Mr. Stern we understand you lived and worked in England for a year."
"Oh yes Mr. Paymemoremoney, I did. In fact I even drove there."
"Well done. I can tell you're going to be a star here."
THAT'S WHY YOU GO ABROAD.
That, and because you'll be that much closer to go places like Iceland for bachelor parties. Oh did I mention, that starts Thursday night.
Yes you can shoot reindeer there. I look at it as revenge for years of audible persecution via christmas carols/songs/rings.
Oh plus my buddy Mike's getting married and we're going to rip shit up. I'll stop using that phase when I turn 27.
To be honest, a lot of the delay is Blogger's fault. Due to technical difficulties beyond my control, I have been unable to post pictures, thus rendering some of the posts I've had useless. Who wants to read when can just look at stuff. This blog started with nothing but text and a J-Crew pic of yours truly - no need to start progressing now.
Regardless, the tech issues have enraged me. Angry. Angry like why the District's income tax is 9% and VA's is 5.8%. This gives me one more reason not to move back into that toxic dump of crime and higher costs.
That said, the first trip back to the motherland in 6 months was great. The flight home was miserable but Betty greeting me with a Burrito Ultimo from Baja quickly rectified the situation. The first few days back in VA were spent repatriating at casa Alvarez. Then a quick trip to the real mothership Harrisburg (H-BLING) left me grateful to see my family. I knew everything was going to be all right when...
- my grandmother made some noodle pudding - that's jew food you can't find in the UK
- my father got into an argument with one of the native grocery store clerks
- i went to the local cinema to catch the new Superman movie and there were 3 fat Harrisburgians bubbling in the front row in front of me. they actually stuck their arms out in Superman fashion when the theme song was played. just because you've had massive weight gain doesn't mean you just fold and climb the d-bag ladder. i used to be fat and i don't think i became any more toolish. i was just hungry.
- the power went out for 18 hours on my block
Leaving Harrisburg in perfect working order, Beatrice and I returned to the steaming pile known as the District. It was literally steaming.
From there several nights were spent in the Omni Shoreham hotel courtesy of the Firm. Thanks Firm. Nice hotel except for the tiny ass elevators carrying way too many people. Plus I'm pretty sure the footstool in my room had actual feces smeared on it. Not my own. Mine's green.Avoided the 4th of July scene in DC like my test results after a weekend in Amsterdam. Instead I enjoyed some excellent guac, some PA beers and caught a movie with my sister and her "better half" - we saw Wordplay, the documentary about the NY Times crossword puzzle and the people who competively do them. You know the types, the quietly smart, the ugly, the girl at school you never talked to cause her head gear created a perimeter of 3 feet around her jaw. Also the very same people today who probably have accumulated prodigious amounts of wealth through saving and not having friends to spend money on.
July 5th meant only one thing - crabs with the Scatman. That really must sound weird to about 98% of this blog's readership. Oh well. It means I was in Annapolis eating seafood with old friends, talking shit and not catching fish.
The 6th I joined the Capitol Police's finest collection of hasbins for a Nationals game. Hi Pat.
Friday was spent prepping for the week's main event, the Lamb Roast (yes worthy of caps) held on my family's farm that Saturday. The Roast is deserving of its own entry and it will get one soon. Pics def necessary to explain the event. If you didn't make the guest list, think about why.
Sunday I remember a tinge of a hangover setting in.
Monday I went into the office to remember what cubes smell like.
Tuesday the 11th I was off to the rock.
Flight back to the UK was a gem. Sat next to a portly Indian (curry not casino) in her mid 50's on the way back. Somewhere over Greenland we were exchanging phone numbers and by the time we got to terminal 4 in Heathrow, we departed with a hug. It was really weird. Although I'm pretty sure I scored. She also offered to drive me to Costco if I ever needed anything. I told her I only buy chicken tikka by the plate, thanks.
One of the highlights since my return has been driving a manual transmission on the wrong side of the road on the wrong side of the car. Nothing better than looking up and to the right for your rearview and seeing nothing but door. I also enjoyed the fact that I drove in the England. It's like a skill set. For a really really pathetic resume - don't think I won't add it.
"So Mr. Stern we understand you lived and worked in England for a year."
"Oh yes Mr. Paymemoremoney, I did. In fact I even drove there."
"Well done. I can tell you're going to be a star here."
THAT'S WHY YOU GO ABROAD.
That, and because you'll be that much closer to go places like Iceland for bachelor parties. Oh did I mention, that starts Thursday night.
Yes you can shoot reindeer there. I look at it as revenge for years of audible persecution via christmas carols/songs/rings.
Oh plus my buddy Mike's getting married and we're going to rip shit up. I'll stop using that phase when I turn 27.
LAMB ROAST 2006
Farewell Fossil
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Guns 'N' Roses
There comes a time in every man or woman's life where they must spend too much money to see a band that should no longer exist. That time came for Pete Sayia, Leigh Sayia and myself as we acquired tickets to see the greatest rock band ever, Guns 'N' Roses.
Pregaming in the only way I know how:
Red General + Red Marlboro
The date was June 7th, 2006. At age 44, Axl, who is the only original member, delivered a dominating performance. Dominating may not even be strong enough. He belted out the originals like it was 1991 and dropped some new stuff on the crowd. His new band was flawless. His lead guitarist, who he referred to as the ribbed condom of guitar players, was great. Axl's connections to Barry Bonds and Balco are working. He owned the stage, breaking out the classic look at the floor and swaying dance moves. The dude fired up the crowd like nothing I have ever seen. If GnR opened every USA World Cup game with one of their classics it would have guaranteed us a seat in the finals. Between the adrenaline your body excretes when hearing the opening chords of Welcome to the Jungle and witnessing the perfectly timed pyrotechnics, you will be ready to see bodies fall and heads roll.
You know Axl is in town when pitbulls cower... 
...and I'm spending $40 on a tee shirt.
Here's the set we heard:
'Welcome To The Jungle' - DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE?!?!?!?
'Its So Easy' - I SEE YOUR SISTER IN HER SUNDAY DRESS...doesn't get better
'Mr Brownstone' - Great song even the DEA couldn't resist
'Live And Let Die' - Axl or McCartney? I'll take the guy who I'm scared of
'Sweet Child O' Mine' - fell into a coma sometime in the first 30 seconds of this classic
'Madagascar' - new stuff
'Better' - new again
'You Could Be Mine' - if you hear this song and don't think Terminator 2, we're not friends
'Knockin' On Heaven's Door' - the 10 min rendition left me wanting to hang a cross from my neck
'The Blues' - new
'IRN' - new again, good shit
'Outta Get Me' - strong
'November Rain' - when Mr. Rose asks for a piano, you give him a motherfucking piano
'My Michelle' - at this point Sebastian Bach from Skid Row came out and you just wanted to break stuff
'Patience' - and the lights they shine so bright (at this point the lights actually brightened!)
'Night Train' - get some - where else but the night train
Then the band left the stage. Only to return and take us to...
'Paradise City' - cue the red white and blue confetti (not kidding) and there's your show to remember
With any hard rock concert you are looking for a kick ass show by whomever is playing. The added benefit at GnR is the crowd that attends. Good God I saw creatures that I never knew existed.
Thanks to:
- The gross looking overweight and cross eyed broad in front of us in line (as we waited to enter the venue) who told us that the last time GnR performed, 2 fans were killed. Thanks Debbie Downer, here's an Aids needle labeled anecdote.
- The people with incalculable amount of piercing, tattoos, and chains hanging from all body parts
- Hair ailments. Lice and dandruff never came together in better harmony than within this crowd
- Cool people who chose to drop X so they could air guitar their way to nirvana
- What's that other aroma I smell? Oh.
- Special shout out to the slut in front of me at the concert with an "aim here" GnR tat on her lower back- she actually had 2 roses with pistols emerging from the stems. I bet she is a virgin.
- Second special shout out to the slut in the front who I couldn't see but was holding a sign, that Axl read aloud: "Axl, fuck me and then marry me" He was like, 'marriage, yeah right.'
I think it was this whore.
It's also important to note Axl's new look.
Most of the UK newspapers bashed the show. Axl did show up late and as a result, people who traveled from afar had to leave the show earlier to catch their train (remember trains are prevalent here). All I can say is too fucking bad. If you are planning anything in life around Axl, except maybe a punch to the face, then it's your fault stupid. Be glad you got to see the legend. And speaking of Axl rage, he just got arrested for biting a hotel security guard in Stockholm. He was also deemed to intoxicated to be questioned immediately. Fuck right I paid to see him.
The show was so good I smoked 3 Marlboro Reds and I don't smoke.
Inferno
Friday, June 16, 2006
Sardinia: Bloated with Gloating
It has come to my attention that small minority of the readership of this better-than-you-in-all-ways-but-height blog feel that the quality of the material has been slipping. Perhaps the content has been a bit weak of late. Maybe I'm not giving the people what they want? So you went to sterngitsrun and didn't like what you read. Felt it wasn't even worth the key strokes and clicks you used to navigate here. There have been some political posts of late and nude pics are at an all time low. I know my readers. They hate words and eat up areola. Fair enough. I am on the road to improvement.
But the blog still may need a kick in the rear, maybe even the crotch. It is time to take marketing advice from one of the greatest American products ever, Hulk Hogan. When the Hulkster's career began to slip and Vince McMahon decided to be a bitch and disown him, Terry Hogan reinvented himself. He went from good to bad to become Hollywood Hogan. Let me be the first, at least for the next week, to welcome Hollywood Stern. You turned me. I shall turn back to the good side (like Hogan) once I have repaird the moral of my readership. So for the next week stay with me. And again, I can't stress enough that I just spent 5 nights on a beautiful island with my woman, enjoying the food, wine and straight-up getting my paradise on.
The fun hasn't stopped. Over the last 7 days I have gone to a concert featuring THE greatest rock hard rock band ever, an off the hook party with the lax team and have attended the United States first World Cup game in Germany. The best part is, I will post, describe and we will all share in it together.
The other best part is that I'm doing all this. I am peaking, I recognize that.
Wasn't I reviewing Sardinia? Yes I was. It's great. It's beautiful. The food excellent. The wine outstanding.
How's this for a starter story? As Betty and I walked the beach shown below on our first full day, we happened upon a boat being paddled by 3 naked women. That's correct. Betty was kind enough to direct my attention in time for me to see them playfully jumping off the side of this blessed vessel in the buff. Some were sunbathing, others paddling the boat with their feet (close to bad naked, but good from 50 yards). Not only did I witness this erotic spectacle first hand, I watched without reprimand from the prancing nymphs or my own bird. Sadly I failed to capture this image on film, but rest assured there were 6 breasts, slender bodies and plenty of booty. Stern: A young jew's erotic journey from London to Alghero
The other benefit is that I speak no Italian, Betty does. I successfully removed myself from society. I pointed at things I wanted; wine, more bread another one of those ham hocks for the road. That is vacationing.
Most days were spent wandering the town and beaches. I have never moved slower for 5 days of my life than during my tenure in Alghero. Nobody does anything quickly. Except driving is a different story. Anyone who has driven in Italy can attest that your life is in danger if you get on the road. I rented an awesome Fiat. wait for laughter and continue...
Let's say I was getting passed by minivans, delivery trucks and motocycles from 1943. Pretty sure some one on a wheelchair blew by me. It took some time for me to realize I drive like a bitch and apparently walking speed inversely correlates to driving speed.
Below are a few pics from the trip set to the chorus from Snoop Dogg's Nuthin But a G Thang
It's like this
and like that
and like this
and uh
and we ain't got no love for ho's
so just chill
to the nex episode...
(the cigar took me 2 days to smoke)
Now that's realer than real-deal Holyfield
Holla
But the blog still may need a kick in the rear, maybe even the crotch. It is time to take marketing advice from one of the greatest American products ever, Hulk Hogan. When the Hulkster's career began to slip and Vince McMahon decided to be a bitch and disown him, Terry Hogan reinvented himself. He went from good to bad to become Hollywood Hogan. Let me be the first, at least for the next week, to welcome Hollywood Stern. You turned me. I shall turn back to the good side (like Hogan) once I have repaird the moral of my readership. So for the next week stay with me. And again, I can't stress enough that I just spent 5 nights on a beautiful island with my woman, enjoying the food, wine and straight-up getting my paradise on.
The fun hasn't stopped. Over the last 7 days I have gone to a concert featuring THE greatest rock hard rock band ever, an off the hook party with the lax team and have attended the United States first World Cup game in Germany. The best part is, I will post, describe and we will all share in it together.
The other best part is that I'm doing all this. I am peaking, I recognize that.
Wasn't I reviewing Sardinia? Yes I was. It's great. It's beautiful. The food excellent. The wine outstanding.
How's this for a starter story? As Betty and I walked the beach shown below on our first full day, we happened upon a boat being paddled by 3 naked women. That's correct. Betty was kind enough to direct my attention in time for me to see them playfully jumping off the side of this blessed vessel in the buff. Some were sunbathing, others paddling the boat with their feet (close to bad naked, but good from 50 yards). Not only did I witness this erotic spectacle first hand, I watched without reprimand from the prancing nymphs or my own bird. Sadly I failed to capture this image on film, but rest assured there were 6 breasts, slender bodies and plenty of booty. Stern: A young jew's erotic journey from London to Alghero
The other benefit is that I speak no Italian, Betty does. I successfully removed myself from society. I pointed at things I wanted; wine, more bread another one of those ham hocks for the road. That is vacationing.
Most days were spent wandering the town and beaches. I have never moved slower for 5 days of my life than during my tenure in Alghero. Nobody does anything quickly. Except driving is a different story. Anyone who has driven in Italy can attest that your life is in danger if you get on the road. I rented an awesome Fiat. wait for laughter and continue...
Let's say I was getting passed by minivans, delivery trucks and motocycles from 1943. Pretty sure some one on a wheelchair blew by me. It took some time for me to realize I drive like a bitch and apparently walking speed inversely correlates to driving speed.
Below are a few pics from the trip set to the chorus from Snoop Dogg's Nuthin But a G Thang
It's like this
and like that
and like this
and uh
and we ain't got no love for ho's
so just chill
to the nex episode...
(the cigar took me 2 days to smoke)
Now that's realer than real-deal Holyfield
Holla
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Spencer Night
nEnd of the season lax party (no North Carolina dancers were invited...they press too many charges).
words not needed.
words not needed.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Back from Sardinia
Friday, May 26, 2006
I'm outta here for a little...
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Album Review Time
I have acquired 3 new music albums and am yet to pay for them, thanks KK! Thank god too because I needed new tunes.
I walk a lot in London. If I'm not walking I'm on the tube, bus or waiting for one of the first two. My Ipod is a part of me. I'm cyborgish, wires and blinking lights attached to my person. I strive to say nothing to anyone and this helps.
To the album reviews!
1) Rolling Stones
2) Red Hot Chilli Peppers
3) Pearl Jam
First, the best of the three: Rolling Stones "A Bigger Bang" which was released last September (I'm behind, retarded and still cannot dunk a basketball)
Not only do they have the best album title but the old guys still kick it better than the young punks of today. Nearly every song is white guy head noddingly good. (white guys nod, blacks bob) Most of them are upbeat and not like their previous libido killing Wild Horses. Another factor is that Mic and gang are still out there ripping shit up, with senseble lyrics at 107 years of age. Keith Richards, who recently flipped Death the bird for about the 30th time, is recovering from head surgery but still touring this summer. Superhuman.
Second, is the RHCP. They were damn close to being first. Their brand new double-album Stadium Arcadium has the replay value of Return of the Jedi and the charm of an Ewok. And like an Ewok, they have returned a bit to their roots with good guitar solos, great bass playing and funky rhythms. To put out 28 songs of which 75% are excellent is stellar. Keidis dominates with some great singing but the majority of his lyrics still don't make sense. I'd get this album if I didn't already own it.
Third, Pearl Jam's latest entitled Pearl Jam. You want to roundhouse Vedder for the title but
the album is decent. The songs are upbeat but dissimilar to their previous stuff. This works mildly well. Upbeat power chords define this album. However I prefer when Eddie is howling, I'm imitating and girl friend on the verge of pushing the steering wheel into oncoming traffic if I start singing Daughter one more time.
DON'T CALL ME...THE PICTURE...IT WILL REMIIIIEEEIIIEEIIND
errrrrrrrr. CRASH
I walk a lot in London. If I'm not walking I'm on the tube, bus or waiting for one of the first two. My Ipod is a part of me. I'm cyborgish, wires and blinking lights attached to my person. I strive to say nothing to anyone and this helps.
To the album reviews!
1) Rolling Stones
2) Red Hot Chilli Peppers
3) Pearl Jam
First, the best of the three: Rolling Stones "A Bigger Bang" which was released last September (I'm behind, retarded and still cannot dunk a basketball)
Not only do they have the best album title but the old guys still kick it better than the young punks of today. Nearly every song is white guy head noddingly good. (white guys nod, blacks bob) Most of them are upbeat and not like their previous libido killing Wild Horses. Another factor is that Mic and gang are still out there ripping shit up, with senseble lyrics at 107 years of age. Keith Richards, who recently flipped Death the bird for about the 30th time, is recovering from head surgery but still touring this summer. Superhuman.
Second, is the RHCP. They were damn close to being first. Their brand new double-album Stadium Arcadium has the replay value of Return of the Jedi and the charm of an Ewok. And like an Ewok, they have returned a bit to their roots with good guitar solos, great bass playing and funky rhythms. To put out 28 songs of which 75% are excellent is stellar. Keidis dominates with some great singing but the majority of his lyrics still don't make sense. I'd get this album if I didn't already own it.
Third, Pearl Jam's latest entitled Pearl Jam. You want to roundhouse Vedder for the title but
the album is decent. The songs are upbeat but dissimilar to their previous stuff. This works mildly well. Upbeat power chords define this album. However I prefer when Eddie is howling, I'm imitating and girl friend on the verge of pushing the steering wheel into oncoming traffic if I start singing Daughter one more time.
DON'T CALL ME...THE PICTURE...IT WILL REMIIIIEEEIIIEEIIND
errrrrrrrr. CRASH
The Fatal Snub
This has nothing to do with my trip here in England and everything to do with tragic comedy.
Apparently on Mount Everest last week at least 40 people hiked past and did nothing for a dying man, David Sharp.
So forty people saw him. Here at Sterngitsrdun we have an actual record of the collective thoughts of those who passed Mr. Sharp by:
he's a goner. the peak is a few hundred yards away. I didn't come here for charity. why is this guy climbing alone? do poor people every dream of climbing? Is David Sharp's name Top Mount Everest, no. why does my wife even like me?
So these various souls continued on their way to reach the summit. Sharp was suffering from oxygen deficiency. I don't know what assistance they could offer. Apparently the other climbers did not know either.
I have not attempted to climb anything but a corporate ladder. No extra oxygen needed. Just an appetite for bullshit, horse poo and sniffing the occasionaly penguin anus.
I got that last one from March of the Penguins aka Penguin Porn.
Apparently on Mount Everest last week at least 40 people hiked past and did nothing for a dying man, David Sharp.
So forty people saw him. Here at Sterngitsrdun we have an actual record of the collective thoughts of those who passed Mr. Sharp by:
he's a goner. the peak is a few hundred yards away. I didn't come here for charity. why is this guy climbing alone? do poor people every dream of climbing? Is David Sharp's name Top Mount Everest, no. why does my wife even like me?
So these various souls continued on their way to reach the summit. Sharp was suffering from oxygen deficiency. I don't know what assistance they could offer. Apparently the other climbers did not know either.
I have not attempted to climb anything but a corporate ladder. No extra oxygen needed. Just an appetite for bullshit, horse poo and sniffing the occasionaly penguin anus.
I got that last one from March of the Penguins aka Penguin Porn.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Weather
Not a nice thing to say about it.
Windy
Cold
Rainy
I've been wearing a coat for the last week. Cause it's not warm out.
I'll take a sandstorm at this point.
Or I'll take a better island, mainly Sardinia, where Betty and I will be heading on Sunday.
Highlighted below in relation to the Boot.
Weather there for the last ten and future ten days has not strayed from 80 degrees and sunny.
Now would be the time to post and remind me I'm on the wrong island.
YAH!
I recently purchased a £30 fan. Since then I have been using my space heater at night.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Competitor Analysis
Hello,
Below you will see a fraction of the daily competition I face here in London.
The only thing bigger than the deals this man does is his ego.
The only thing bigger than his ego, you guessed it, his appetite for motorcycle jackets.
I present to you, Greg James, the 2nd most worshipped man in Germany (behind the Hoff).
Below you will see a fraction of the daily competition I face here in London.
The only thing bigger than the deals this man does is his ego.
The only thing bigger than his ego, you guessed it, his appetite for motorcycle jackets.
I present to you, Greg James, the 2nd most worshipped man in Germany (behind the Hoff).
Monday, May 22, 2006
Globalization's Bitter Beer Face
I have recently learned that Anheauser-Busch has purchased Rolling Rock. The acquisition will sever the historic relationship of Rolling Rock beer with its hometown of Latrobe, PA.
Pennsylvania's 2nd finest brewery inhaled through Anheauser's barley hole. Luckily we Pennsylvanians are still left with the good folks in Pottsville our darling Yuengling.
"We have an ideal opportunity to grow this historic brand," said August Busch IV, president of Anheuser-Busch Inc. "This beer is not like others, and its consumer following is equally distinctive. "
By equally distinctive I believe Mr. Busch is referring to of similar corpulence and odor.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Soccer
Living in England makes it difficult to not become a soccer fan.
Having World Cup tickets to see the US play the Czech Republic...yeah.
June 12th is going to be epic. I'll be in Germany, ticket in one hand, defibrillator in the other.
Having World Cup tickets to see the US play the Czech Republic...yeah.
June 12th is going to be epic. I'll be in Germany, ticket in one hand, defibrillator in the other.
Sunday Sevens
On Sunday I attended the Rugby Sunday Sevens. This 7 a-side rugby tournament hosted by and for the commercial real estate players in London.
Held at a rugby club with 4 or 5 different fields, the various firms send their squads out for some serious violence as 1,000 people cheer from the sidelines. My Firm apparently was bounced in the first round last year and everyone was eager for a stronger performance in 2006. The main field is surrounded by large tents where each firm will set up shop to serve food, booze and provide shelter to those who want to throw up in peace.
My appetite for violence and beer were both satisfied as the Firm fought its way to the semi-finals while distributing enough booze to keep me and the fan base bloated and interested.
It was infinitely more enjoyable than the real estate games held annually in DC. There's really no comparison. The real estate games hold three legged races, gay golf competitions, and the closest thing you'll come to violence is chair hockey (sit in an office chair and push yourself around the court cheap hockey stick in hand, splinters possible). Rugby needs little explanation. I don't need to sit here and describe the pleasure derived from watching and hearing a face on face collision leaving two people bleeding. Additionally, the real estate games serve cheap subs and Sprite. Sunday Sevens holds large cookouts, beer, Pimms, and by the final game everyone is ruined. Fuck subs and Sprite.
I have had fun at past real estate games but it just doesn't hold a candle. Plus it's for charity. yuck.
Held at a rugby club with 4 or 5 different fields, the various firms send their squads out for some serious violence as 1,000 people cheer from the sidelines. My Firm apparently was bounced in the first round last year and everyone was eager for a stronger performance in 2006. The main field is surrounded by large tents where each firm will set up shop to serve food, booze and provide shelter to those who want to throw up in peace.
My appetite for violence and beer were both satisfied as the Firm fought its way to the semi-finals while distributing enough booze to keep me and the fan base bloated and interested.
It was infinitely more enjoyable than the real estate games held annually in DC. There's really no comparison. The real estate games hold three legged races, gay golf competitions, and the closest thing you'll come to violence is chair hockey (sit in an office chair and push yourself around the court cheap hockey stick in hand, splinters possible). Rugby needs little explanation. I don't need to sit here and describe the pleasure derived from watching and hearing a face on face collision leaving two people bleeding. Additionally, the real estate games serve cheap subs and Sprite. Sunday Sevens holds large cookouts, beer, Pimms, and by the final game everyone is ruined. Fuck subs and Sprite.
I have had fun at past real estate games but it just doesn't hold a candle. Plus it's for charity. yuck.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
All Up In My Grill
I’d like to share a revelation I’ve had, Mr. Anderson
BUYING A GRILL IS REVOLUTIONARY
Had a nice little Monday (well it was May 1st) planned out the other week complete with a trip to Home Base. Home Base is the UK’s smaller, weaker, and just as orange version of Home Depot.
Upon entering Home Base, a wave of relief rushed over me as I realized prices were reasonable and items were sold in bulk. AMERICA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I ended up settling on an Italian made grill because history has taught me nothing. A tank of butane cost me about $50. Can’t remember what I used to pay on Columbia Pike, but I’m pretty sure $20 covered it. So after swallowing my tongue and sticking a fork in my eye, I made it home with my new baby.
After wiping my ass with the Italian instruction manual, I examined the parts before me. Everything seemed to be there. And actually assembly went smoothly, despite having to force feed screws into some tight Italian holes. Oh!
Luckily I avoided the Homer building a dog house experience.
Stern, party of one:
BUYING A GRILL IS REVOLUTIONARY
Had a nice little Monday (well it was May 1st) planned out the other week complete with a trip to Home Base. Home Base is the UK’s smaller, weaker, and just as orange version of Home Depot.
Upon entering Home Base, a wave of relief rushed over me as I realized prices were reasonable and items were sold in bulk. AMERICA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I ended up settling on an Italian made grill because history has taught me nothing. A tank of butane cost me about $50. Can’t remember what I used to pay on Columbia Pike, but I’m pretty sure $20 covered it. So after swallowing my tongue and sticking a fork in my eye, I made it home with my new baby.
After wiping my ass with the Italian instruction manual, I examined the parts before me. Everything seemed to be there. And actually assembly went smoothly, despite having to force feed screws into some tight Italian holes. Oh!
Luckily I avoided the Homer building a dog house experience.
Stern, party of one:
Monday, May 15, 2006
The President's stand-up act
this post is going to be politically oriented so if you can't find Iraq on a map stop reading now.
W plans to deliver 6,000 well trained National Guard to the Mexican border. Looking ahead, I will enjoy watching some one as verbally sure footed as this president talk his way out of this newly proposed stunt.
19 minutes well spent on nothing. I was hoping at least to find out that we'd be invading Mexico early next week.
It's all part of the hispanic reach out plan, a subdivision of compassionate conservatism.
Why is this outrageous?
simple.
W plans to deliver 6,000 well trained National Guard to the Mexican border. Looking ahead, I will enjoy watching some one as verbally sure footed as this president talk his way out of this newly proposed stunt.
19 minutes well spent on nothing. I was hoping at least to find out that we'd be invading Mexico early next week.
It's all part of the hispanic reach out plan, a subdivision of compassionate conservatism.
Why is this outrageous?
simple.
- W's proposed 2006 budget, when revealed, funded only 210 new border agents - mission accomplished
- You're telling me good people like Karl Rove aren't creative enough to bolster basement ratings without appealing to xenophobia? Actually this strategy may work. Since every policy initiative under sun has proven a failure, might as stick with political ones. I am predicting a 10% racism spike in ratings.
- Is this really the best use of the National Guard? We all know that weekend crusading Guard members need to stick with that they know: eletricuting Iraqi genitailia.
- Distraction. From? Well everything really. Iraq, Afghanistan, Katrina contracts, CIA intelligence failures, fiscal failures, Lobbiest lawsuits, wire-tapping...too tired to go on...need to focus on saving money
I'm all for some immigration reform and protecting out borders but must admit, I mildly disagree with the direction W is heading.
But if this is a political move, hmmm, how to maximize this photo op?
Imagine W being slowly lowered from a shiny helicopter on a wire, wearing chaps and a red, white and blue flannel, sleeves optional. As his descends softly onto a waiting ATV he pitches his ten galloon hat to the side and slowly cruises, prowling for border jumpers. Chicanos beware! This man was in the Air National Guard, the very same people who are currently down to hate on some brown. As Cheney flushes out little Pedro from hiding in the brush (recently cleared and cut by W himself) he mistakenly shoots Alberto Gonzalez. The attorney general thanks him for the free torture and happily remarks how he sold out his own people while he cracks a cold Corona.
Sicker than the president himself is the extreme right who are far from satisfied with current immigration law. Those who believe America is being destroyed by this hispanic immigration wave. And yet the children of this fine nation don't know their ass from a hole in the ground, and by that I mean geography. 2/3's of Americans 18-24 that can't find Iraq on a map, please tell me how that is still possible? The war is 3 years old. Well 50% couldn't find New York and it's at least 250 years old. It's not even geographic ignorance that is "destroying" America, but general indifference - whether it be facts, issues or meaningful debate. Like the fact that not one of my close friends back home watches Lost.
Lastly, while I'm still popping a squat on the administration, please tell me you saw the 27 year CIA veteran call out Rumsfeld last week in Atlanta? I caught the clip on BBC and couldn't stop laughing. In the question-and-answer period, former CIA analyst and now my hero Ray McGovern spit hot fire at Rumsfeld on his claim of WMD in Iraq. When Rummy denied making such remarks, McGovern quoted his exact words and gave the date and location (Meet The Press March 2003, everyone's seen the clip 4000 times). No other comment needed other than, awesome work McGovern. That man deserves a Patrick Ewing size chest bump.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Wally's
It's where I eat almost every work day.
Picture a 200 square foot hole in the wall that is standing room only - a glass counter displays cold cuts and behind it 2 shrunken old foreign women make sandwiches for about £2.50 ($4.30!). More importantly, the portions served dominate any local competition.
Wally is also there, taking orders and helping out which means there are 3 people crammed into a space 1 Pennsylvanian could not fit. 2 more sandwiches and I will be that Pennsylvanian.
Wearing gloves while preparing other people's food is not standard practice at Wally's. Additionally, to ensure maximum exposure to filth all three employees not only prep sandwiches, they handle money. Logistically, this is the only supply chain management system that would work given the space constraints. It would be safe to bet that if Wally's were big enough to have an employee bathroom the plaque would read: Get back to work, washing your hands takes time.
Lastly, I have noticed that Wally has open sores on his hands and forearms. No matter though - if needbe I could pick Wally above my head Ultimate Warrior style and show his face what cold canvass feels like.
He's shorter than me.
In a 5 day work week I eat at Wally's 5 times. I'll get in 3 lunches and 2 breakfasts. You can't beat a cup of coffee for £0.65! Anywhere else is about £1.50 or above and at that point you're approaching a $3.00 coffee.
Oh and side commentary - if you are male living in the US and you pay more than $3 for your morning fix then I wish herpes on your first born.
So I sprinkle fingernail dirt on those that chastise me for being a germaphobe.
If I don't shake your hand it's because I don't like you.
Stern
Picture a 200 square foot hole in the wall that is standing room only - a glass counter displays cold cuts and behind it 2 shrunken old foreign women make sandwiches for about £2.50 ($4.30!). More importantly, the portions served dominate any local competition.
Wally is also there, taking orders and helping out which means there are 3 people crammed into a space 1 Pennsylvanian could not fit. 2 more sandwiches and I will be that Pennsylvanian.
Wearing gloves while preparing other people's food is not standard practice at Wally's. Additionally, to ensure maximum exposure to filth all three employees not only prep sandwiches, they handle money. Logistically, this is the only supply chain management system that would work given the space constraints. It would be safe to bet that if Wally's were big enough to have an employee bathroom the plaque would read: Get back to work, washing your hands takes time.
Lastly, I have noticed that Wally has open sores on his hands and forearms. No matter though - if needbe I could pick Wally above my head Ultimate Warrior style and show his face what cold canvass feels like.
He's shorter than me.
In a 5 day work week I eat at Wally's 5 times. I'll get in 3 lunches and 2 breakfasts. You can't beat a cup of coffee for £0.65! Anywhere else is about £1.50 or above and at that point you're approaching a $3.00 coffee.
Oh and side commentary - if you are male living in the US and you pay more than $3 for your morning fix then I wish herpes on your first born.
So I sprinkle fingernail dirt on those that chastise me for being a germaphobe.
If I don't shake your hand it's because I don't like you.
Stern
Monday, May 08, 2006
Best Posting Yet
Goes to my long lost and oldest friend Geoff Knight. If you didn't get a chance to read it, I have copied it below - as you will see, it is the best post of the year thus far and in my opinion funnier than anything I have written.
Geoff has a legitimate shot of being the closest thing to Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey from American Beauty) of anyone I have ever met, except Geoff is smarter and I do not expect him to get shot by a closeted gay yet homophobic ex military neighbor. He may lust after his daughter's friends.
Great to hear from you brother.
and now the post!
geoff said...
Hey will, i just finished perusing the entirety of your blog postings and i gotta say, funny. not you-getting-hit-in-the-groin-with-a-golfball-during-your-twelfth-birthday-at-that-pitch-and-putt funny, but funny nonetheless. its good to see you're doing well and having fun over there. i could say ive been too busy to read your posts, but the truth is i lost my sister's email with your post address and just today had the opportunity to cruise the web looking for your blog (and smooth vietnamese boys). how was i able to spend my last two hours reading about your last four months? easy. i got fired yesterday. from a job where almost everyone else dropped out of high school. for attending the mandatory health insurance meeting for all employees. you say they're looking for arms salesmen in slovenia eh? so my life sucks the big one now and as such i figure that moving back home to get my life in order may actually make me cooler. i don't know if this will happen (and god i hope it doesn't), but just to be safe, I'm giving away my porn to the crackhead down the street. anyways, just thought i could drop a little rain on the sunny life of an englishman. I'll keep in touch and maybe scratch enough dough together for a long weekend at the end of the summer or in the fall.
PS - i'll bring Chipotle
Geoff has a legitimate shot of being the closest thing to Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey from American Beauty) of anyone I have ever met, except Geoff is smarter and I do not expect him to get shot by a closeted gay yet homophobic ex military neighbor. He may lust after his daughter's friends.
Great to hear from you brother.
and now the post!
geoff said...
Hey will, i just finished perusing the entirety of your blog postings and i gotta say, funny. not you-getting-hit-in-the-groin-with-a-golfball-during-your-twelfth-birthday-at-that-pitch-and-putt funny, but funny nonetheless. its good to see you're doing well and having fun over there. i could say ive been too busy to read your posts, but the truth is i lost my sister's email with your post address and just today had the opportunity to cruise the web looking for your blog (and smooth vietnamese boys). how was i able to spend my last two hours reading about your last four months? easy. i got fired yesterday. from a job where almost everyone else dropped out of high school. for attending the mandatory health insurance meeting for all employees. you say they're looking for arms salesmen in slovenia eh? so my life sucks the big one now and as such i figure that moving back home to get my life in order may actually make me cooler. i don't know if this will happen (and god i hope it doesn't), but just to be safe, I'm giving away my porn to the crackhead down the street. anyways, just thought i could drop a little rain on the sunny life of an englishman. I'll keep in touch and maybe scratch enough dough together for a long weekend at the end of the summer or in the fall.
PS - i'll bring Chipotle
KK
As in Kristy Kettles, was here.
Seen below at a local celebrity event with one of the more successful and attractive members of the Real World London
for the record i'm not taller than KK
also for the record she made it past 7:30 pm...this time
I was kind enough to introduce KK to a little pub close to where I used to go to school. She took to it like Yorke to a free broker lunch.
Joining her was her friend Natalie and Natalie's brother Anthony, who informed me that he "cleans bird shit on tax payer money" for a living. He's in the Air Force stationed outside London and apparently, he does remove bird poo.
We got nicely lit on a Tuesday night, failed on Saturday and unfortunately for KK, we were a bit too successful on Sunday night - and from what was reported, she did not properly prepare her body for transatlantic travel on Monday.
I had a Bank Holiday and slept in. Yak.
More shots from page 6
Seen below at a local celebrity event with one of the more successful and attractive members of the Real World London
for the record i'm not taller than KK
also for the record she made it past 7:30 pm...this time
I was kind enough to introduce KK to a little pub close to where I used to go to school. She took to it like Yorke to a free broker lunch.
Joining her was her friend Natalie and Natalie's brother Anthony, who informed me that he "cleans bird shit on tax payer money" for a living. He's in the Air Force stationed outside London and apparently, he does remove bird poo.
We got nicely lit on a Tuesday night, failed on Saturday and unfortunately for KK, we were a bit too successful on Sunday night - and from what was reported, she did not properly prepare her body for transatlantic travel on Monday.
I had a Bank Holiday and slept in. Yak.
More shots from page 6
Sunday, May 07, 2006
My dinner Saturday night
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Slovenia
It’s amazing that after your 18th viewing of the third installment of the Lord of The Rings (Return of the King) you can still see why it won 11 precious Oscars.
Yeah I wrote that.
But oh yeah, Slo, Slo, Slo SLOVENIA!
I went there. Only 2 million people vive alli. Look to the chicken wing on the map below. mmmm, wings.
I’ve been told traveling in Europe on Easter weekend can be problematic. Well hell, not if you’re traveling to the best and commiest the former Yugoslavia has to offer. Kirkman and I arrived at Gatwick expecting to find pandemonium. Instead we waited behind no people in line at the Adria Airlines ticket counter. From there it was on to Garfunkle’s for a quick breakfast before entering into the dietery unknown.
John Chump Change Kikman paying for breakfast.
Landing in Ljubljana, pronounced Loob-e-yana, is a gem. There were no more than 2 airplanes on the tarmac, the sun was shining, alps rising in the background and everyone is issued their complimentary peace keeping SKS’s, which is the predecessor to the better known AK-47. Not sure what that was about. With a population of only 300,000 people, this deadly game of paintball won't last long.
The money is the Slovenian Tolar, where 200 Tolars = $1. Taking out 30,000 ain’t nothing when you stack paper like me.
Who doesn’t sniff new money?
The first day we were there, Friday April 14th was outstanding. Weather was great complete with wine and ugly Croatian women trying to get some. Yeah Slovenia is not Croatia – but there was some kind of Croat tourism fair outside our hotel.
Luckily the beer was cold, the city center pleasant. The city is built around this great looking glacial river that flows through it.
More city.
Day 1 was spent exploring the city in between local draft beers made by the one and only brewery in Slovenia, Union. We found a street market where everyone seemed to be gathering. I approached a fruit stand thinking that purchasing an orange might not be a bad idea, because it will probably be the last healthy item I consume until the IV at the hospital is plugged into my veins. I approached one lady selling fruit, so I grabbed a couple of oranges off her cart. Immediately the horrible sound that is spoken Slovene was being shouted at me. You are not supposed to grab want you want and pay, like how God intended. In Slovenia, you tell them how many items you want than they are supposed to pick. Complicating this transaction, as I learned later, is that to the Slovenes, I look Serbian. Serbian = opposite of good. I was told this on several occasions. Serbians are considered shady, cheeky, lower class Slavs.
This fit me nicely.
Blessed with my new found power, I stepped up my intentional bumping into people at clubs. It’s not often I can instill fear into my fellow man. Let’s say I exploited this opportunity just a tad. Like at the bars later that night, the club and then getting a 3 AM kebab. Repeat the cycle for 4 nights and you have one egomaniacal fake Serb.
Day 2 involved a trip to Lake Bled. Really really ridiculously good looking.
I biked around the lake. Bitch.
Day 3 was Easter, so naturally it was time for…GOOD MOTHER F*CKING CHOICE
Day 4 we got ourselves involved in one of those weird tour buses that takes you to 4 different places and you’re forced to hang with an international goon squad. This one actually worked out for us. And folks, let me tell you why: 4 HOUR LUNCH.
Stopping by the coastal town of Piran on the Adriatic Sea, Kirkman and I found ourselves eating an intensively good Italian lunch alongside two fat Kiwis, who naturally, were also there for the food. Bottles of wine, Slovenian beer and buttload of pasta with Lobster were downed for absolutely no reason except I didn’t give an F about seeing the town church. For my actions, God rewarded me with sunburn to the face and forearms. Thanks big guy.
Day 5 was spent biking around the massive park Tivoli and smuggling a few people.
Slovenia is a fantastic place. Ljubljana is a fun little city. This entry doesn’t come close to doing it justice. Like how the Michael Jackson movie didn’t show the aftermath of too much Jesus Juice. But if it means anything, I would absolutely return and trade some arms.
I think of all the ridiculous stuff I learned while there, being informed that Mormons and Baptists have come to spread their (edited profanity) to these peaceful (well at least for the last 15 years!) people is the most sickening and shocking. Well not really shocking. Normal.
Second to that is the fact that Ljubljana has a lacrosse team. That deserves a big WOW.
Third, to take a page out of that pu$$y of pop culture and sports, Bill Simmons aka Sports Guy (yes I read his columns) - nba.com is telling me that there are currently 5 Slovens playing professional basketball. 1 in 200,000 males will play professional hoops. The only one you might have heard of is Radoslav "Rasho" Nesterovic - you know, the oafy white center who backs up fundamentally sound but hard to watch Tim Duncon of the Spurs.
SLOVENIA…F YEAH
Now time to watch Mr. Frodo carry the ring safely to Mordor.
AND SCENE.
Yeah I wrote that.
But oh yeah, Slo, Slo, Slo SLOVENIA!
I went there. Only 2 million people vive alli. Look to the chicken wing on the map below. mmmm, wings.
I’ve been told traveling in Europe on Easter weekend can be problematic. Well hell, not if you’re traveling to the best and commiest the former Yugoslavia has to offer. Kirkman and I arrived at Gatwick expecting to find pandemonium. Instead we waited behind no people in line at the Adria Airlines ticket counter. From there it was on to Garfunkle’s for a quick breakfast before entering into the dietery unknown.
John Chump Change Kikman paying for breakfast.
Landing in Ljubljana, pronounced Loob-e-yana, is a gem. There were no more than 2 airplanes on the tarmac, the sun was shining, alps rising in the background and everyone is issued their complimentary peace keeping SKS’s, which is the predecessor to the better known AK-47. Not sure what that was about. With a population of only 300,000 people, this deadly game of paintball won't last long.
The money is the Slovenian Tolar, where 200 Tolars = $1. Taking out 30,000 ain’t nothing when you stack paper like me.
Who doesn’t sniff new money?
The first day we were there, Friday April 14th was outstanding. Weather was great complete with wine and ugly Croatian women trying to get some. Yeah Slovenia is not Croatia – but there was some kind of Croat tourism fair outside our hotel.
Luckily the beer was cold, the city center pleasant. The city is built around this great looking glacial river that flows through it.
More city.
Day 1 was spent exploring the city in between local draft beers made by the one and only brewery in Slovenia, Union. We found a street market where everyone seemed to be gathering. I approached a fruit stand thinking that purchasing an orange might not be a bad idea, because it will probably be the last healthy item I consume until the IV at the hospital is plugged into my veins. I approached one lady selling fruit, so I grabbed a couple of oranges off her cart. Immediately the horrible sound that is spoken Slovene was being shouted at me. You are not supposed to grab want you want and pay, like how God intended. In Slovenia, you tell them how many items you want than they are supposed to pick. Complicating this transaction, as I learned later, is that to the Slovenes, I look Serbian. Serbian = opposite of good. I was told this on several occasions. Serbians are considered shady, cheeky, lower class Slavs.
This fit me nicely.
Blessed with my new found power, I stepped up my intentional bumping into people at clubs. It’s not often I can instill fear into my fellow man. Let’s say I exploited this opportunity just a tad. Like at the bars later that night, the club and then getting a 3 AM kebab. Repeat the cycle for 4 nights and you have one egomaniacal fake Serb.
Day 2 involved a trip to Lake Bled. Really really ridiculously good looking.
I biked around the lake. Bitch.
Day 3 was Easter, so naturally it was time for…GOOD MOTHER F*CKING CHOICE
Day 4 we got ourselves involved in one of those weird tour buses that takes you to 4 different places and you’re forced to hang with an international goon squad. This one actually worked out for us. And folks, let me tell you why: 4 HOUR LUNCH.
Stopping by the coastal town of Piran on the Adriatic Sea, Kirkman and I found ourselves eating an intensively good Italian lunch alongside two fat Kiwis, who naturally, were also there for the food. Bottles of wine, Slovenian beer and buttload of pasta with Lobster were downed for absolutely no reason except I didn’t give an F about seeing the town church. For my actions, God rewarded me with sunburn to the face and forearms. Thanks big guy.
Day 5 was spent biking around the massive park Tivoli and smuggling a few people.
Slovenia is a fantastic place. Ljubljana is a fun little city. This entry doesn’t come close to doing it justice. Like how the Michael Jackson movie didn’t show the aftermath of too much Jesus Juice. But if it means anything, I would absolutely return and trade some arms.
I think of all the ridiculous stuff I learned while there, being informed that Mormons and Baptists have come to spread their (edited profanity) to these peaceful (well at least for the last 15 years!) people is the most sickening and shocking. Well not really shocking. Normal.
Second to that is the fact that Ljubljana has a lacrosse team. That deserves a big WOW.
Third, to take a page out of that pu$$y of pop culture and sports, Bill Simmons aka Sports Guy (yes I read his columns) - nba.com is telling me that there are currently 5 Slovens playing professional basketball. 1 in 200,000 males will play professional hoops. The only one you might have heard of is Radoslav "Rasho" Nesterovic - you know, the oafy white center who backs up fundamentally sound but hard to watch Tim Duncon of the Spurs.
SLOVENIA…F YEAH
Now time to watch Mr. Frodo carry the ring safely to Mordor.
AND SCENE.
