there's nothing like seeing a grown man talk to his cats

i had a real live valentine for the first time ever this year. she was a she, too. the second greatest part about it was that she snuck into my room to tell me she hated the day. it was really early (around 1130) when she came in and sat on my still sleeping self. then she said, "i hope you didn't do anything lame like buy me flowers." (in french). luckily, i was brought up, partially, by a cruel and wicked stepmother who preached the anti-hallmark doctrine. "when you get older ed," she'd say, "don't do lame stuff on valentines day like buy flowers for your lady friends, because gestures don't have the same meaning when you feel pressured or forced." in my young impressionable stage of developement, i listened to what people told me, and didn't automatically do the contrary just because. oh how times have changed...

so, as it had been devalorised so much by the w.s., i hadn't realized the day even warranted flowers or chocolate. i got halfway through the day feeling no regret at all, until my buddy lawrence, a u of o er, or a duck if you want, said "well, what if its some sort of trap? what if she's playing passive aggressive to see how much of a sucker you are by?" given that i've never dated a french girl before (or, really, any girl), and that i had no idea how sneaky their minds could be, i started to get nervous. on top of that, lawrence is a pretty smart guy. He not only reads people fairly well, but the only time he was wrong this year it had nothing to do with relationships. dun dun dun...

that's two strikes.

luckily there wasn't a third, 'cause my lady friend really doesn't care about valentines day. that makes her almost perfect. but could she live with little baby anklebiting eds running around? or more than one of them, rather...

amsterdam was cool, but not cool enough...for snow, that is. there were clean windows, and coffee, everything i'd hoped for. but somehow i still left with an unsatisfied feeling. the entire time, we were being taunted by the fucker in charge of the snow. little flakes were coming down all week long, but not once did i find a patch of snow thick enough to make a snowball. lame!

there was consolement though: bagels with creamcheese and dr. pepper. in france, you'll find not such things. nor will you get many people happy to speak english. but the case is not so in holland. granted, amsterdam is a huge tourist trap, and dutch isn't a very common language (even though they ruled the world for a while...didnt know that), i still found it very reassuring to know that not everyone hates speaking english. even the bums can express themselves well enough in three languages to pull tears of pity...self pity. for realizing how much of a sucker you are. somehow that lanky dutchman managed to get 2 euros out of me. i still don't know how, but 2 euros is two postage stamps, a coke, half a bagel, and hour at an internet cafe, or almost half a bag of weed. amazing.

if you guys ever go to amsterdam, check out the heineken museum. the entrance is 10 euro and you get three beers and a pint glass during the tour. i'm not certain, but i'm pretty sure the entrance payed for itself...in hops. bwahaha.

smell you later.