first times for everything

friends with benefits...heh heh

2005-07-14T18:29:00.000-07:00

the other night i went to the fabric store (for velcro) with my mom. after that she took me sock shopping (gold toe, baby), and out for pizza and a movie. maybe the movie will make up for how pitifuly the night started, you're probably thinking. perhaps they went to see war of the worlds, or kung foo hustle. something good. nope. we watched 13 going on 30. and i liked it. and until today, when i bought a new bike, it had been the highlight of my week. nothing like being home for the summer to make you want to go back to europe...or hope that school starts early this year. one of those two.

i must say, although maybe it was just the lameness of the situation, or the ovewhelming burning sensation from the liberal dusting of pepper flakes i piled on the pizza that clouded my judgment, but i thought jennifer garner did a pretty good job. one could draw a parallel between the effect of hot pepper dust from north beach and the wishing dust jennifers character used: we both got what we wanted. but, as i only got one wish answered (i'm still waiting on catherine zeta jones' proposal, now that i'm on my second contract with t-mobile) i didn't think it was fair that she got her second wish. she shouldn't have gotten a redo. the movie should've ended after she got shot down by matt. bullplop.

i'm gonna go have steak now. my moms taking me to a restaurant owned by this guy that donates blood alot. she's making me wear a sweater. but i don't care, 'cause it's steak. and it's gonna be good.

http://www.alfredssteakhouse.com/

greece felt like a week long frat party...

2005-05-24T03:57:00.000-07:00

and i guess thats about all i could have expected from it.The pink palace really reminded me of that consequentless place in Pinocchio where all the boys can drink and smoke and eat junkfood without getting in trouble. It seemed like paradise at first, with clear blue water, and sunny beaches, and four hours of happy hour a day...In the end, though, the boys just turn into jackasses and get put to work by that one guy. It was a place to hang out for six days. or seven. it might've been seven.

the two days of sleepless bus/plane travel on either end of the week make it hard to tell exactly how long we were there though...hehe, the days just blur together.

it was a swell way to end a year in a sun-less poitiers by going to corfu island in greece. i think remembering to put on sunscreen was the one bit of motherly advice that i retained during the week:

everyone else jumped...

it's weird knowing that some girl from seattle who i don't know has pictures of me nekid.

my doctors office has a boat theme, much like my dorm

2005-04-30T10:49:00.000-07:00

you're a cool fucking dude, mike

lame.

2005-04-29T13:39:00.001-07:00

spring break is over. lame.

people are starting to take off. all those italians who sang after they filled up on...pasta, and those germans who, well, spoke with german accents, and all those english people who spoke english..really really well (and not just compared to me). all leaving. lame. (ps. dad and the w.s., i told all the people i met that they could stay at your house if the ever wanted to come and visit. all of them.)

bike lock girl, vanessa (bike lock girls friend), george, wensislaus, those dudes whos names i can never remember who i met at vanessa's housewarming/raclette party, and the extremely cool teacher i had at the begining of the year are all staying in france. probably won't see much of them after this year. extremely lame.

i'm gonna have to leave here in about a month. lame. well, i think i'm ready to come home though. i'm starting to feel really far from home. i miss my friends 'n' stuff. i also sorta feel like my dad, or mike when hes in corvallis: whenever i walk around poitiers i see 25 people i know. its gotten smaller, this town has. sorta lame.

there are two weeks of finals, but half of them will be oral. lame?

no more lady friend. lame.

bum knee. lame.

got a sunburn 'cause it was so freakin nice out today. lame.

have to go to an all day make-up class tomorrow at a teachers house. phonetics. all day. all lame.

found a soccer ball today. i met three people who live in my building while standing outside juggling the ball for 20 minutes. cool.

french kids are introverted and live in the dorms expecting to be left alone and don't even try to meet there neighbors. the exact opposite of dorms in the US. lame.

I.R.M is french for M.R.I.

2005-04-18T15:31:00.000-07:00

its spring break here.

my friends call me bequille

2005-04-06T06:04:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, all the kids in the program took a trip to the dordogne region in france. its the really old part of france, with caveman paintings, bitchin old castles and chateaus, a cathedral built into a cliff face (all one piece), and little villages that really haven't changed in the past couple hundred years...except for the electricity, and the postcards, and those little coin stamp machines, where they stamp a design into a penny, but you have to pay like 75 cents for it and it usually gets lost by the end of the trip. i don't think they had those 200 years ago.

our program director also organized for us a cultural dinner and dance. this, we'd later find out, meant that after getting stuffed with extremely good food, we'd be too exhausted to run away before the dancers showed up. the traditional dancers of the region turned out to be the only people at the retirement home old enough to remember the dances but young enough to get around without a wheelchair.

they all put on goofy costumes and danced and sang to accordian music. the students were encouraged to participiate, and as the dinner (and consequently the wine) was already paid for, quite a few students were ready to boogy down. the dancing went on and on until the bus was ready to head back to the old folks home or until the dansers were so tuckered out they couldn't anymore. for some of the old ladys, this meant about four and a half minutes. but there was one lucky old guy who got partnered up with one of the more attractive girls on the trip. to top it off, she could actually dance a mean polka, which thouroughly pleased this old guy, who probably doesn't get out much. let alone to bars full of 20 girls who will dance with him.

as all the old ladys were packing up their costumes and instruments, (we'll call him) Gaston and lyndsey danced a good four or five more polkas. all the while Gaston was making eyes with the accordian player to the effect of "i will give you my pain meds every thursday and friday night for the next month if you play until my hip gives out again."

he was being a true wingman, all the way to the bitter end...

i hit a little french kid in the face with an aerobie disk

2005-03-20T12:55:00.000-08:00

it was an accident, but that didn't make it any less funny... i only laughed after the kids dad did. then my lady friend took back her offer to have my baby. she doesn't think i'm sensitive enough.

happy fricking birthday, adeta, you old fart

2005-02-27T13:31:00.000-08:00

the biggest difference in the dorms here isn't the missing cafeteria downstairs, or the only single rooms. it's not the fact that in my hall people speak arabic, french, creole, a language the name of which i don't know, and the english, or the lack of internet access(which blows). it's not even the single instead of communal showers (which doesn't blow). it is, however, the one change i couldn't have even dreamed of (but did dream of at the same time cause its so great): theres a femme de menage whos job, once evey other week, is to pass through the halls and, wait for it...wait for the teacher with the camera... change everyones sheets. yeah thats right, even mine. the only way that could possibly be topped is if she left a mint on my pillow. or maybe some swedish fish. yeah, swedish fish.

this is a huge for me, because i'm a slacker. it all became apparent freshman year when i had trouble motivating myself to strip my bed even once a term. then last year it took darius to convince me that it might be in my best interest to change the sheets in the fort at least twice...which sucked, cause those were the times when my pillows smelled nice, like girl...i also changed my sheets after i burnt the chicken stock. but it was tough, like pulling teeth. so the fact that someone does it for me now is amazing. it's great like i'm in middle school again when my mom changed my sheets...or like i'm in highschool again. or just home for the summer. shutup. my mom makes me breakfast.

but even without the swedish fish, i can't be anything but content. see, ever since 4th grade when the girl i had a gimongous crush on dressed up in (what i would later learn to be) a french maid costume, my lifelong dream was to have my own french maid. although mine doesn't wear a mini skirt, carry a little feather duster, or wear a lace hat. instead, she's got a big cleaning cart, and a stained white apron, but it was still super hot the other day when she furrowed up her little brow and shook her finger at me for not leaving my door unlocked.

ps. i keep having this weird dream where i put my shoe on without untying the laces and the back of the heal collapses. for me, its extremely frustrating when that happens, cause not only do the shoes keep falling off, but the collapsed heal pushes my socks down into my shoes, and i hate when my socks get all bunched up around my toes. so anyway, in this dream i walk around for hours, stopping every couple steps to pull up my socks, in a desperate search for a shoe horn store, 'cause a shoe horn is the only way to solve my problem. obviously. but it's always sunday in the dream, and it takes place in france where EVERYTHING NOT A BAR OR A RESTAURANT IS CLOSED ON SUNDAYS.

france is pretty awesome, but sometimes i just wanna wait until sunday afternoon to go to the store for some batteries. or maybe a shoe horn.

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

2005-02-24T06:24:00.000-08:00

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.

so why not pollute 'em, right?

2005-02-14T08:23:00.000-08:00

i'm going to holland tomorrow with ember and sarah, where we're gonna meet up with zoe.

in other news, being in the dorms here is just like being in the dorms at home, except in french and without RA's. i guess there are more differences than that, too. like here, it's normal for 30 year old grad students to live in the same halls as 18 year old undergrads from guadelupe. and people actually use the kitchenette down the hall. theres one lady, though, who is in there for every meal and is extremely condescending. shes like the queen of the kitchenette, or something. the other day, i was boiling potatoes to make potato salad, and she chuckled at me for not doing it right...for not boiling potatoes the right way. last time i checked boiling food was one of the easiest tasks in cooking. on the other hand, i once miss-boiled a chicken so i can't really talk. (for those who don't know, when boiling chicken: if the water has all boiled off, it's gone too long, when the chicken has all boiled off, your roommates hate you because your house smells like smoked, warmed-over ass).

as far as things that are the same: a couple nights ago i woke up to a laugh that could've been taryns or hethers. the similarity was uncanny. first i thought i was dreaming, so i just stayed put for a sec. she laughed again and i was halfway through telling darius to get his shirt before i realized i wasn't in kansas anymore. i went into the hall anyhow, just to see if maybe it was taryn. it's been a while since i've seen her, so i kinda got my hopes up... it turns out taryn laughs with an island accent. she kept my hopes up when she asked for help with english homework.

it was going well for a while, then i realized i don't know english grammar so i couldn't explain why, i could only say "just because"...then i started doubting myself, 'cause on top of not knowing grammar, i don't speak english so well in general. luckily, just as she noticed my ineptitude, sunday-night-porn came on. that distracted her long enough to plant a sloppy wet kiss and make my escape. unfortunately, she lives right across the hall from me...unfortunately?

some girls make better alarm clocks than alarm clocks.

i have healthy lungs

2005-01-20T06:24:00.000-08:00

i had to have a medical visit and an x ray of my lungs in order to get my carte de sejour. they wanted to make sure i didn't bring any horrible diseases like tb or sars into the country. it took five months to find out, but as it turns out france is still safe.

and now i have a cool picture of my lungs to put on my wall.

Nantes really what i expected

2005-01-12T16:59:00.001-08:00

i didnt have anything to do this week but i was invited at the last minute to visit a town called nantes... where everything was closed except the museum of natural history (ive never seen so many stuffed animals/reptiles/birds before) and an exhibit about the bombing of Japan at the end of WWII (and even that was actually closed, too, for school visits, but there was a really nice lady at the door who let us in under the condition that we kept quiet and out of the way. quieter than the middle schoolers on a field trip to a black and white picture gallery...right). i understand that it's nantes the tourist season, but come awn.

to keep busy, we walked around alot. and now i know why people vacation in the summer: if there are no museums or attractions, walking around is still an option, whereas in the winter its cold and rainy and not friendly to being outside. it was nice to catch a whiff of the beach, though.

the buildings reminded me of Lyon, lots and lots of windows along the rivers. unfortunately, no pirates. we did find a burnt down house to explore, and some neat little alleys that went on and on and on...wait, didn't your mother ever tell you nantes to play in burnt down buildings?

school starts up again monday, and i'm really looking forward to it. hoorah for structure! i'm also looking forward to the "iner break" 3 weeks after that. hoorah for travel time! im gonna go to holland to check out the windmills and the sabots.

the dorms been pretty cool so far. my neighbors names are frederique (butchered that name, shes a she), guillaume (think i got that right) and i can't remember the other girls name. i feel bad about it too, 'cause she introduced me to everyone else. guillaume lent me some of his french music. lots of accordians and of sappy lyrics that don't seem so sappy. i dunno if i like them or if i'm just content that i can understand the songs...

i bought a wok. its deep enough that i can warm up soup or boil water and make pasta, but shallow enough for other stuff...that i haven't tried yet. pastas filling and tasty.

the bracelet started to smell, so i took it off. i was also getting some questions concerning it's meaning and "its a political statement" wasn't working out as an explaination.

marco.....

2005-01-06T04:27:00.000-08:00

i moved out of my host family's house last week. i decided it was time to live with people my age again. as hard as it will be to retake the responsibility of having to make my own food, take out the garbage and dress myself in the morning, it had to be done. i am really gonna miss, other than the few things i just mentioned, my host parents, their mumbling to themselves in the kitchen, picking on me for slipping english words in when i don't know the french ones, telling war stories from algeria (not so much my host mom on that one), insisting that the best way to learn french is "autour l'oreiller" and threatening to send me home because i didn't eat breakfast.

on the other hand, i won't miss so much the cat trying to eat my hand, and more recently my foot, and the inhaled "oui" that my host mom uses (which sounds like the gasping noise someone would make if they were startled by a big huge hairy spider in their house. everytime i heard my host mom say "oui," i'd be right there with a cup and a postcard to catch and release before anyone could step on it.)

now i live in the dorms which are pretty much brand spanking new (it still smelled like fresh paint when i moved in). i get a desk, a bed, a bathroom smaller than the closet at the 'gout. i can actually put my feet in the shower while sitting on the john, and a bunch of cubby's for all my stuff. it sorta reminds me of a room on a ship. what's the french word for "matey"?

now that i'll have an extra two hours each day, 'cause i don't have to commute, i'm gonna try to join the water polo class.

what's a pirates favorite letter?

2004-12-26T06:25:00.000-08:00

aaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!

i guess it just goes to show you...

2004-12-09T02:33:00.000-08:00

i'd like to make an ammendment to my description of kebab meat. i decided that comparing the meat log to mackenzie is completely unjust. she's way to cute and innocent to be related to a spinning stack of greasy meat slices. a better way to put it would be: "it looks like a soggy meat log about the size of pete's leg...after three or four games of ultimate frisbee. not to say his legs size changes with activity, exactly, but it does get sweatier and hairier."

betting is a bad habit

2004-12-06T06:38:00.000-08:00

unless you're lucky, cause it's better to be lucky than good. take me, for example: this trip i won a kebab for knowing the correct lyrics to a raffi song, 5 euros on an astrology scratch-it in brugge, and half a kebab for backing ms. normandy instead of miss tahiti in the miss france beauty contest. although ms normandy won, i sent my vote in for miss paris who took third runner up...with authority. it was a long night. if you guys are bored during vacation, feel free to look her up. i'm sure there are pictures online.

on the other hand, winning bets are completely different than following through after someone says "i bet you can't!"

'cause i can, fool

2004-11-30T04:48:00.000-08:00

so today at lunch i had a kebab. for those not from a place where kebabs are sold (and i'm not talking about spiced meat on a long toothpick), it might be hard to grasp what a kebab really is, but i'm gonna try to explain.

what they do is take big slices of random types of meat (when i say random i mean it could be turkey or pork or lamb or beef or cat...nobody really knows) and layer them onto a long metal skewer. at the begining of the night, it looks like a soggy meat log about as tall as mackenzie. when not being served, this glob of greasy meat on a stick spins and spins in front of what looks like a cheap k-mart plug in heater, all the while dripping with goopy goodness. mmmmm.... it really surprises me the number of people who still eat these things even after seeing how the meat is stored. especially you, meeechelle, who won't even eat stirfry at mcnary.

the kebab comes with a buttload of fries, in half of a large bun, emptied, and mostly filled with regular sandwich toppings like lettuce, tomato and onions. kebab eaters also get their choice of sauce : mayo, garlic (white), ketchup (red) or hischa (spicy). i prefer the red and white mix.

any way, i had a beer at lunch with my kebab, IN THE CAFETERIA, at a REDUCED student price, with my buddies fhé and lawrence. fhé is from canada, and she's polish. lawrence goes to uo. it's written comprehension time.

smell you later

one would presume that...

2004-11-24T04:23:00.000-08:00

this weekend i went to paris where i had the pleasure of meeting up with stephanie and hether and a couple of their hooligan friends from the london program. actually, most of them weren't hooligans, but at least one was a food fight instigator.

we saw the louvre, the arc de triomph, les halles, the inside of the hotel, and some of the 20th arrondissement. this included a petanque tournament, a grocery store called "Ed," and the pub downstairs where a game of "i never" was played. it was the first time in almost a year where no one made reference to tysons sister, leah, or stomach shaving.

to make a long story short, for the sake of simplicity, the frog legs were good, the creme brulee was better, wine isn't food, and kissing in the rain makes you wetter. also, it doesn't matter how good a colgne smells, it's not worth taking a squirt of it in the eye.

on sunday i was kinda sad to see you guys go, 'cause i'm not gonna see you again till next fall at the very least. i can always hope for sooner, though. thanks for the cheesy weekend. 'till i'm something other than content...

she may have been right about how to say his name

2004-11-22T04:20:00.000-08:00

but i was right about the lyrics. "what lyrics?" you might be asking. the important ones...the ones that got me a free kebab.

todays word of the day is escapades...

2004-11-10T02:40:00.000-08:00

'cause escapades always make for badass memories and memories are what make life worth living. (escapades = and stuff). in my book, esapades are right up there along with smarties, the little candies that everyone gets bucketloads of at halloween (and at elijahs house), except this year cause halloween in france sucks for getting candy. they're mighty tasty.

this weekend is gonna be a long one. november 11th is armistice day, so thursday is off, and french teachers are awesome, so they do this thing called "making the bridge" and we don't have school until monday. i'm going to chartres to visit francois, the guy my mom interprets for. then on saturday night, i'm gonna babysit for some little canadian kids from london. it's near ontario. guys can babysit, too...shutup.

tonight, though, i somehow got tricked into a dinner party with my parents and their retired friends. but hey, on the brighter side, there's gonna be lots of champagne and little hors d'oeuvres with toothpicks in 'em.

now i'm gonna go have a beer in the school cafeteria with my future wife.

this ones going out to all my homies...

cops in toulouse work nights as masseusse...s

2004-11-08T06:36:00.000-08:00

and are not intimidating at all. i think, if not for it's redeeming social value and badass theme song, cops is a good show because it really instills respect (and or fear) of law enforcement into citizens. here, cops (french equivilant of pigs=chickens) don't have that luxury, and they don't earn the respect too well either.

sorry about that last post...i was kinda burned out on account of testing and the such. speaking and listening in french is a lot different than getting reemed by essay tests. i guess you have to build up a tolerance for everything, unless they don't ask, what? i'm pretty sure i did ok on most of the tests, though. and if i didn't do so hot by french standards, it's not like it won't get bumped up to a b+ or something in the transfer home, right?...study abroad rocks.

ps. foosball? and i could never forget you jody, let alone your hairy boyfriend and money shot, even if i tried. cool pictures, too. my host mom has that car, the peugot rally edition. it's lame, slow and kinda scary when she drives it, but when my host dad gets behind the wheel it's badass (la voiture, elle bouge). and if you put them together, that's how kenny drives...

i'm frickin famous

2004-11-04T11:07:00.000-08:00

when i get old...

i wanna live in a quiet little town near a big city.
during the summer i want to go someplace warm with my whole family.
i want a cool car.
i wanna eat dinner outside at the end of the summer.
i want my best friend and his wife to come over and play cards with me and my wife.
i want to go dancing, and be good at it.
every morning i want to get up and have coffee and read the funnies.
i want to have my neighbors over for dinner once in a while, because neighbors are important.
i want to babysit for a week so my kids can go on vacation.
i want who's turn it is to make lunch be the biggest argument i have all morning.
i wanna wear goofy pants when i go golfing with friends i've had forever.
i want friends who remember when we found a fish at the tee for hole 8 at flemming, and blowing stuff up when we were, uh, little...
i want my grandkids to know exactly where the candy is everytime they come over.
i want to make breakfast in bed for my wife when she least expects it.
i want to master telling stories that go no where, but are mildly entertaining until they get there.
i wanna go on day hikes.
i want to have a favorite tv or radio show that no one else likes.
at christmas time, i wanna go someplace warm with my whole family.

ps. i was in the newspaper yesterday. they were interviewing us about the elections and stuff. i was gonna try to get them to print "no comment," but it's the same phrase in french, and somehow didn't seem as cool outloud as it did in my head. instead i said "a wise guy once told me 'never trust anything you see on tv. anything.'" along with some feelings i had about stuff. they printed something close to what i said. i don't think they would have, though, if i also told them that the "wise guy" once almost cried to the season finale of the OC. which...uh...wouldn't have effected his credibility at all...

It really does put hair on your chest!

2004-11-02T01:05:00.000-08:00

oh, no wait, that's just the rest of puberty working it's magic...

i'm gonna be a rebel and not talk about what we did here for halloween, bwaha. instead i'll tell you about...studying!

'cause i don't really have much else to say. i've been studying all weekend for midterms this week...and by all weekend i mean saturday i studied history for an hour, then skimmed over some notes for grammar. i sorta burned out around lunch time, but i decided that reading for pleasure, as long as it was in french, would be like studying. when i got tired of that i listened to the radio for a while. they do prank calls here, too. they're more revenge calls. the other night a daughter called in who wanted to get back at her dad. she had the host call him up and say they were engaged...but he's fourty five and shes 16. they're pretty funny. i ate the rest of the cookies my mom sent me while i listened to the radio. then i got a little sick. but it was totally worth it. my mom makes the best cookies. they're only better than colleens because she's got the experience. one day colleen...

luckily we didn't have school monday, all saints day here is a national holiday, so sunday night we had a halloween party. and by we i mean the 22 year old michiganian (?) who studied here last year, fell in love and got married here, and who now has a nice little house with a french guy, decided to throw a party at her place. there were tequila shots, punch and pie, someones mother in law dressed as spider woman (a bit of mumbling going on, if you know what i mean), only one devil and no angels (a huge change from last year...), but no really cool creative costumes like a one night stand, or indiana jones and the boulder. how'd that turn out by the way?

i didn't really know what to go as. we went to the costume shop friday, lawrence kim and i, and everything was buy one get one free. kim, the michiganian started pointing out all the stuff her husband was going to wear and i decided to go dressed exactly like him. lawrence went as a pirate, edana the irish went as a geurilla fighter, f(h)é the canadian/polish girl went as a bag of coffee, and i went as a kim husband. it was just a lame glow in the dark wig, a cape and some makeup, but it was kinda funny i guess. but suffering with the lameness totally paid off when she accidently kissed me...

aunt anita: i don't get hangovers yet, i'm too young (20 going on 14)...not from drinking anyway. i did find a greek store here that sells halva. it made me think of you guys and i got kinda sad. ps. it is possible to get a hangover from too much halva.

while we were at the costume shop a canadian overheard us talking in english, and said she was looking for a babysitter. not so much a babysitter, just someone to sit in the living room and watch tv at night while she and her husband were at away games for the volleyball team. i said i thought i could manage that. i start two saturdays from now.

i'm gonna get married and never come home.

girly men on the outside, dirty savages on the inside

2004-10-19T13:00:00.000-07:00

i had a couple revelations this week. one of them is kinda good, one of them is kinda bad, and the other one is more just something i noticed. now that i can understand most of what people say, i can start making judgements and observations.

first, i'm gonna go with the shitty revelation. i figure after i get it off my chest, i won't have to think about it anymore. here goes: ever since the first day of translation class (that's the one with the super hot teacher who totally reemed me 'cause i can't speak french perfectly...but it didn't matter 'cause she was super hot) i saw a something a little familiar in the instructor. i wanted to say she looked like a porn star, which would have been weird (cause i don't look at porn...), or maybe i'd just seen her at around at some point. in any case, i wasn't sure, but i didn't lose much sleep over it. then one morning after class it came to me: the really hot teacher, whose foxiness was the only motivation for me to get up at, no, before the ass crack of dawn looks like...wait for it....my step mom. don't ask me where the similarity is, or talk to me about not being able to have "edipus-rex" without "ed", i just don't want to think about it anymore. needless to say, i dropped that class due to a lack of motivation, among other things...

my second revelation was during another class: history. we're covering the french revolution, and that includes a discussion of "the Marseillaise."

"what the fuck's that?" you ask.
"it's the most vicious national anthem ever." i say.
in french its:

Allons enfants de la Patrie
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Contre nous de la tyrannie
L'étendard sanglant est levé
Entendez-vous dans nos campagnes
Mugir ces féroces soldats?
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras.
Égorger vos fils, vos compagnes!

Aux armes citoyens
Formez vos bataillons
Marchons, marchons
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons

... it continues. in any case, just the chorus translates into:

To arms, citizens!
Form up your battalions
Let us march, Let us march!
That their impure blood
Should water our fields

i'm pretty sure if i saw an armed group of dirty french men singing this song, i'd shit my pants. it's too bad somewhere along the line they picked up the sissy image.

the third revelation, which sorta goes along with the second, is that my host dad is crazy. not crazy in an "i'm scared for my life" sort of way, but crazy in an "i was in the war in algeria, and i'm gonna tell you my insane war stories about how i lived out in the desert and at live snakes for breakfast" sort of way. he's the equivalent of an ex-marine, kinda like what sals gonna be like when he's 65. again, i'm kinda surprised they can't shake the sissy image.

also, tc, if you read this, you might be happy to know that french people use whore as an explitive, too.

french guys don't like getting thunder clapped....either

2004-10-17T05:02:00.000-07:00

especially when you don't know them...

i'm not feeling that motivated today. i was a sleepover slut this weekend, cause i have no way to get to my house after midnight (it's been raining so i can't take the bike anymore). i slept at lawrences saturday, and katies on friday (thanks guys). friday was a pretty cool night, but it sorta drained me for the rest of the weekend... on the other hand, i did get engaged to a nice italian girl. but as it turns out, italians are a jealous people, so when she saw me talking to another girl, she broke it off. i was a little sad. needless to say, i drank my problems away, but in a good way. later that night the police showed up for a noise complaint. i saw them through the window and my first reaction was to drop what i had. then i remembered where i was and i offered him a taste of so-co and coke. doing my best to spread the american culture that is whiskey...

saturday night, instead of being inside, everyone and their gramma were out on the town for the "bar-a-thon". which meant there were lots of pictures being taken. i recently developed a strange desire to jump into pictures any chance i get, so it was a fun night for me. after one picture though, i got what i thought was the evil eye. the photographer seemed kinda angry, then he walked up to me and started to reach into his pocket. he whipped out his phone and said, in french, "now give me your address so i can send you a copy." didn't see that one coming.

i'm getting more and more used to getting the bises (kisses on the cheek) every time i see someone i know. i think we really missed out in highschool, cause i noticed that even the goofy looking kids get bises from the hot popular girls. no time like the present to make up for lost time, eh?

already seen

2004-10-13T06:12:00.000-07:00

i think i'm starting to know what it's like to be tyson...minus the whole making out with colleen all the time part.

the one thing that everybody here knows how to do, (foreign or otherwise, kinda like drunk tyson) are introductions. so almost everytime i bump into someone new i hear their name. the only problem with meeting so many people is you feel obliged to remember their names. but it's so tough, cause they're not normal names like joe, or orlando or darius, but more like grazia or betina or helene (with a silent h). after a month and a half (damn! a month and a half already) of meeting people though, i'm running out of new faces so people are starting to realize i'm either rude or have no memory. i recognize everyone, but i don't know what to call them (and unfortunately i don't know the words for chief, tiger, scout or junior yet). luckily for me i can remember some of them by how i met them.

take Bike Lock girl: one wednesday, that's the day have to get up at the crack of dawn for translation class, i forgot the key to my bike lock cause i can't function at 615 in the morning. it's not natural to be up when its still dark. long story short, bike lock girl rode up to save me that day. we locked our bikes together...after that, because i hadn't really met her yet, i called her bike lock girl. but mohommad the wise, the "old" 27 year old from jordan, gave me a pep talk one day. he said, in french, "ed, you need to stop being such a pansy. reach down and take the shrink wrap off your..." he didn't say it just like that, but in as many words and with the same effect. so the next day i asked bike lock girl out for lunch. it was great not getting shot down, but i think i've got the cool foreign kid thing going for me here. now she's lucie and she corrects my french.

i'm still having trouble remembering the names of the italians, even people in my classes i really should know, but i blame that on drugs i took. the ones after my accident...

it is pretty cool having a really simple name to remember, though, 'cause everywhere i go people say stuff like "hey, ed" but instead of a nice salutation i mostly get stuff like "gimme back my notes," or "you totally skipped out on the bill the other day," mostly.

i'm having a bitching good time all in all though.

can you guys think of any "american foods" other than burgers or pb&j?

tuesday was october 5th

2004-10-08T11:06:00.000-07:00

i'm a lucky guy. not 'cause i'm from a non-poverty stricken country, or because i get to study in france for a year, or even because i have an alarm clock that plays the radio instead of one of those delightful sirens in the morning when it goes off, but because i have friends who (tell me they) care about me, and my health, and really cool parents (wicked or otherwise) and an older but not bigger sister and a little (for now) brother. i almost didn't realize that tuesday was the 5th. for those of you who know what that means, thanks for being there and stuff. and for those of you who don't, no big deal. i love you guys.

in other news,

sang = blood
seins = boobies.

if you pronounce them slightly differently, they mean slightly different things.

whatever you do, don't throw it over the wall

2004-10-07T02:21:00.000-07:00

things have been great here. i'm finally digging myself into a cozy little rut, still meeting lots of really great people, and i'm getting more and more comfortable coming off like an ass while trying to make lame jokes in french that i just can't seem to pass up (thanks alot, dad). and to top it all off, i learned how to say "it's not great, but it gets the job done" in german. i learned this last night at a birthday party (lots of those coming up, *clears throat) for anna the brazilian when the germans were complaining about how crappy french beer is. but instead of being snooty about it, they pulled out their optimistic effeciency hats. it was still better than pbr, though...

as far as learning "in school" goes, we just finished a section on the history of plastic surgury. each week we're given a topic to cover in "reading and oral comprehension" then we apply it to "expression" classes. last week was jazz, next week is phobias. anyway, i thought i'd share a bit of what i learned in case anyone was curious.

-nose jobs have been around since ancient egypt
-men were the first to get boob jobs (the greek had problems with bitch titties, they liked their men like they liked their little boys, 80087355 )**
-and "autoplastie": it sounds like it hurt, that'll teach you for cheating on your husband, though.

not all that much has been going on. i'm looking in to going to the auto show this weekend, 'cause i don't have school tomorrow. i'd almost rather stay in town, though. i've been making great progress on my pint glass collection. why stop when i'm on a roll, right?

i got another letter this week. it was totally awesome.

smell you guys later.

**if you know what this means, cool, if you know the story to tell before punching it in, even better

you know whats cheaper than OE? wine...

2004-09-27T13:47:00.000-07:00

and you don't have to mix it with anything for it to taste good. the only problem with it is that it doesn't bring the trio together.

why french bars are awesome (and i don't know if american bars are the same, 'cause i've never seen them, but here goes):

-most importantly, i'm allowed in.

-the bouncers are the most intimidating french guys you'll ever see, but they don't come anywhere near brian nier. this might or might not mean anything to you, so i'll try to give you some perspective. i'm not skinny here, so french guys really can't be that threatening, even the big ones.

-they serve "giraffes" of 10 pint glasses lined up in a wooden boat type thing. they're really awkward to carry and if the bartender spills it, the next ones free. he definately spilled it...all over the lazy eyed swedish girl. it was sad, but funny. almost as funny as seeing this french guy leave a cafe with a coffee stain on his groin...but that's a different story.

-there's a good chance you'll stumble across a group of italian girls.

-when italians get drunk they sing. the one italian guy (lucky bastard) taught us a bunch of drunk italian songs and i felt really lame when i didn't know any good drinking songs in english that i could teach. i'm gonna have to work on that.

-there's really nothing like a group of italian girls singing for drinks. we got another free giraffe.

from the bar we all walked to a night club called "le grand goule." it's right across from a cathedral...i dunno, but the people really made the night alot of fun. like aaron, katie the english chick, lawrence, and all the italians.

[scene missing]

we were out till 530. i slept at my friend lawrences house. he's got a room right in town which is nice, but because it's in town, it's also really small. on top of that, i woke up in the morning with that drunk feeling still in my mouth and i knew i wasn't gonna get to powow. for a second i was thinking about how to wake darius up: a glass of water, or the usual stripping of sheets. but neither plan came to fruition...cause i'm in france.

i wouldn't say i'm homesick, but i kinda missed yous guys.

ps, there's nothing like licking a fresh 9v battery. nor is there anything like watching someone else do it for the first time.

german in french with an italian, what?

2004-09-23T13:51:00.000-07:00

have you ever woken up and thought to yourself (and this isn't a question for the people from the 'gout) "ouch, it's cold today?" well i did yesterday. i spent most of winter term last year, when i should have been bothered by the cold, in a state of childlike fascination with the fact that it was so cold i could see my breath inside. i guess the fort kept me warm most of the time. in any case, i'm pretty sure i picked up a little frostbite on the ride to school yesterday.

and what's even worse about the fact the it was freezing balls that day, is that the next i had to get up at six thirty for an 8 o'clock class. if you know me, and i'm pretty sure you do, you know that the only reason i get up that early is to visit with my buddy gus at the greyhound station. but the only time that happened, i was still drunk from the night before...you know what i'm talking about. the class i have to get up so early for is translation, and it's one of three i'm taking with all french students. i was freakin out about it, too, 'cause i realized i had no idea how well these kids spoke english. i didn't want to find out that they'd be correcting my english under their breath, 'cause i know i don't speak so well.

so, the teacher gives us an article, then leaves for ten minutes so we can read, understand, and translate it in our heads. people aren't all that enthusiastic about volunteering here either, but i figured i had nothing to lose so i went ahead and tried. the article was about laundr-o-mat workers in NYC in english, and we had to translate it into...you get the idea. i didn't know some of the vocabulary but i could describe my way around it. so i did the first paragraph, and throughout, the teacher (who's a fox) was doing the usual nod and "good, yes" repetition. she also wrote down everything i said. i felt kinda good afterwards, but that was shortlived. the teacher looked up at me and said "(in french) you would have gotten the point across." then proceeded to pick apart everything i'd translated then gave her interpretation. it felt sorta like a caning, but luckily i was still numb from the frostbite. plus she was really hot.

i sorta skated through the rest of the day. i was really tired, and i still can't drink coffee without getting all shaky. that might also be 'cause i go half coffee half sugar. i dunno. but anyway, i came home and slept, then went back in to town to play some chess. hey, nerdy or not, i get to play it over a glass of beer, and beer, or the fact that i can drink it outside during the day, makes everything fun.

so, if you get hit in belgium, do you get a brugge?

2004-09-18T06:04:00.000-07:00

last friday, my awesome teacher had our class over to her house again. this time, instead of french food, everyone brought a dish from their own countries. the germans brought bratwurst, which were salty and delicious, beer, which was sweet and delicious, and this really strange bread. it was bitter and not so delicious and was kinda like the bread we use for reubens, but different. the austrians brought meat struedel and this marangue (thats spelled wrong) like stuff (beat eggwhites in a vanilla sauce) that was called shnanenokl. i'm sure that's spelled wrong too, but it tasted oh so right. it was really nice how the austrian girl who made it said it, too. as far as american food, it came to my attention that they don't make breakfasts here like they do in the us, so zoe and i made pancakes and brought real maple syrup. then sort of as a joke, sort of because i didn't want to cook something myself, i brought some hamburgers from McDy's. i know, i know. i'm sorry.

the whole potluck was alot of fun though. afterwards, we went out as a big group and explored the town a bit. we ended up in a bar called the "irish corner." it was sort of ironic though, 'cause the bar was neither irish, nor on a corner. there, i met this really nice estonian girl named suzanna. she got really frustrated with all the americans though, 'cause she'd studied english in england and had all kinds of trouble understanding us.

later that night, i decided orion was my homeboy. because i live outside of town, the busses stop running to my village at 7, so i had to bike home. the sky was really really clear, but orion was the only constellation i could recognize. also, because it was so dark, and because there were no street lights, all i could see was the sky. i got the strangest feeling i was flying, cause i couldn't see the ground all that well. (and for the 'rents who are reading this, the flying feeling was not a result of other influences. because i bike home, theres no consumption, so don't worry...much).

this past week was a vacation, sort of. one of the other oregonians was headed to brugge, a city in belgium, so some of us decided to tag along. it's a really nice little city, but there's not much to do there other than take in the architecture, the people, and the fries. and they make really really good fries there.

apparently, the belgians actually invented the fries, and they hold a big grudge against they french for taking the name. luckily for me, this meant i was better (or just as well off) not having to use french for a week. the difference between french fries, freedom fries, and "frites," though, is that belgian frites come with your choice of about fifteen different sauces. they're all awesome, except mametsaus. i'm not really sure what it was, and at the same time, i don't really want to. the other good sauces were "trippelsaus" "samurai saus" and "wickgyj saus."

the other thing thats big in belgium, other than the waffles of course, and the chocolate (which is frickin awesome) are the spiders. in the bar bathroom underneath the hostel at which we stayed, there was a spider as big as my fist. no joke. it was frickin huge. and for as big as it was, it still got stuck in the sink. the spiders web was no match for the porcelin, and i guess this wasn't the type of super spider that bit spider man...anyway, it was big enough that i would've felt safer sleeping in the same building if i had left it in the sink. but earlier that week, i learned from a swedish girl (named stinalotta, who actually reminds me alot of sydne...sigh...minus the kid) that it's bad luck to kill spiders. i figured it'd be good luck to save it, and seeing that i'm gonna need all the luck i can get here, i helped it out of the sink. it gave me a hardy hand shake, then left me to go about my business.

the rest of what happened in brugge, as they say, stays in brugge.

laurence, a UO student, and i almost missed the train back to france, then got to ride first class between paris and poitiers. i don't think i can ever go back to 2nd class...

i start school again on monday. i'm really excited to go back to class, with the structure and all. also, i got real live mail. a letter _and_ a postcard. it was really exciting, too. i'd just like all the people out there to know that.

that's all for now.

oh yeah, and don't forget to check the dice.

ps. here're some photos if you wanna see em. look at these now, and you won't have to sit through all of my pictures when i get back...

my french teacher is awesome

2004-09-09T10:31:00.000-07:00

"the stage" is the first week of school. it's where we learn a step from basic language skills so we can do more than just eat, talk about the weather and find the bathroom. our teachers been teaching us...hmmm...some choice words and phrases so when real school starts, we won't be that lame foreign kid. today she gave us a poem called "enivrez-vous." it's about why we should be drunk all the time. she's awesome.

unfortunately, tomorrow is the last day of the stage. i'm kinda sad, too, 'cause after spending a week straight with the same group, they've grown on me. but hopefully i'll have some classes with some of them and maybe my teacher as well (she teaches in the foreigner department). it's still a little sad, though. i think it's because thrive on structure more than anything, so a change like this is gonna throw me off. bigtime.

luckily i have my family for support. it's been nice coming home to people who enjoy structure as much as myself...old people. every day my host mom gets cranky if dinner hasn't started by 730, and everyday she asks me how my day went. it's nice. she also yells at me when i don't eat breakfast. and i'm not talking about "you know, you should really eat your breakfast everyday." no no no. she was waiting for me afterschool one day when i was coming down the driveway. i could see her shaking her fist from the gate, and she said "tomorrow, if i don't see dishes in the sink, i'mma tell ya dad." the next morning my host dad, who usually doesn't get up early, was in the kitchen waiting for me.

i had a bowl of frosties. titou had some leftover bird he'd killed the night before. he's quite the hunter, that cat.

i live in mount misery, france

2004-09-04T09:54:00.000-07:00

i think that's the first thing we learned in french class; how to talk about the weather. it really comes in handy when i don't know the words to say what i'm thinking. maybe i should have spent more time learning those words than the ones for the weather, but either way... of course that would have come in handy today. it would have been nice to know the words for embarrassed or ashamed.

i went to the pool today with my host mom. (you're probably thinking i lost my trunks or something, pervs) the pool here is really nice: its got a platform diving board, its outside and it's nice and clean. unfortunately it was all a tease. see, in france you can't wear swim trunks (the ones that are made for the pool) into the water. no. its forbidden. they told me this right before i got in. instead, everyone has to wear speedos. truthfully, i don't really mind wearing them, but the rule didn't make sense. i was upset that i couldn't swim.

afterwards, my host mom insisted on going to the store to get me a speedo. and even though its normal here, i was still pretty uncomfortable having someone who could be my gramma take me speedo shopping.

i live in Montamise. it's a town outisde of poitiers that was built during the plague. they called it mount misery 'cause that's where they sent all the people who were infected. they've since changed the name. it's sort of a bummer, though, that i live outside of town cause that means i can't stay out late. all the busses that go to montamise stop at 730pm. luckily my host dad has meetings on friday that last until 1230, so i get to hang out with other students at lease for a one day a week. my host dad was an engineer and in the military, and my host mom was a nurse. they had kids, but they're all grown up, so the rest of my french family is a cat named titou. titou was having a bad day when i first got here and tried to eat my hand. since then, he's gotten nicer.

so since i arrived, i moved in to a little old house in the country (which is nice excpet for the cows that keep me up), started school (it's tough not being able to use english), got to use my put bike back together skills from the summer, and might have a job for next summer at a bank (muahaha, that'll give me time to come up with a plan).

now i'm off for wine and cheese at my teachers house. that's something new...

no, you see, the idea is -not- Toulouse

2004-08-26T09:04:00.000-07:00

*slaps self on back of neck*

i wouldn't call myself the most responsible person, not by a longshot, but i'm pretty good about not losing stuff (and i'm sure i'm forgetting something that you guys'll remind me of, or purposely leaving something out, shaddap kenny). but i forgot my journal-type notebook on the night train i took from paris to toulouse. i was rather disappointed.

but i did meet a really cool toulousain guy on the train. he was telling me about all the american bands he liked, and i was agreeing with him... i think some of you get the idea. he also told me in french about why capitalism is so bad. i sorta agreed with some of the things he was saying, but the more i learn, the more i think we're way better off. because, for the most part, we're tools of the man, but those who are aware of the toolage by the man don't get tooled, and are free to do all the tooling around they like. tool. also, he was an artist, and i later learned from daniel (ceciles 35 year old boyfriend, who is the coolest french guy you will ever meet) that artists get paid by the government to, essentially, do nothing, so they have all the time in the world to sit around and philosophise about what people are tools. they're paid with tax money that people with actual jobs earn. in economics we call this moral hazard.

hey, i just applied stuff i learned in school to real life. neato.

when i arrived in toulouse cecile was ever so kind enough to pick me up at the train station at 6 in the am. and it was a pick up. she taught me a bit about her city. toulouse is famous for their rugby team, foie gras, and being the first producers of pastel blue suits back in the middle ages. also, the buildings here are much more colorful which makes it easier to not be aware of the increase in trash and hobos/artists wandering the streets. its a cool town. its also way farther south (almost in spain) so it has that laid back meditarranean 'tude that i liked so much in spain.

cecile lives on the top floor of a building that was built in the 1700s. thats cool 'cause its old (old = cool), and because the thunder and lightning, which seems to be following me around france (no joke), was way more impressive through the skylights. dun dun dun...

we watched conan the barbarian. it was also cool (movies with awesome french people who make jokes about how arnold is the leader of california and a barbarian = cool).

yesterday daniel had a meeting in biarritz, which is a small town on the atlantic coast, about 30km from san sebastian (s.s. = the coolest town ever). i got to go along for the nice drive, salsa dancing in biarritz and to hear french drunk talk for the first time. it was more of a lecture about why french girls are better, how to make a relationship work, and why it wouldn't matter if i smoked (i don't) because you gotta live each day like its your last... i guess you're supposed to make sure it's your last day. and did dance, terribly. but noz i know how to say blush in french.

i got another €2 worth of enjoyment from the spider. it's awesome.

last night i had a dream in franglais. i think that means i'm learning french, sort of. it was about finding a parking space then forgetting where i was going. then finding an ice skating rink where a lady who used to weigh 500lbs wanted to show me that her old dress (which was pastel blue) was too big for her. i'm pretty sure i'm not crazy (but i was once), though biarritz might have changed that.

the other night a bat came into the house. all i could think was "damn, that's a big ass moth."

i'm leaving for poitiers soon. back to that delightful place called school.

living in the moment in an old house in a medieval (not really) town in toulouse, realizing i should probably not go to a bar where they have rugby players, especially now that i can talk enough french to get me into trouble.

smell you guys later.

best pickup line, ever...

2004-08-21T04:42:00.000-07:00

um...yeah. so, in corvallis, a non-threatening small town, troublemakers = curbstompers. in paris, a very large town with easily 5 million people, troublemakers = purse snatchers on vespas, annoying men who harass girls (judy and lace, and another i met yesterday), and rollerblade gangs. yes, that's right, rollerblade gangs. i think thats pretty much all i need to say about that. and that martin, you were right all along...

now i'm in paris, and i'm pretty much just waiting for word from a friend in Toulouse. again, i didn't really plan that far ahead (i told her i was coming and when, and she said she might be around) and i'm running out of things to do here. it's too bad i don't have time to learn from my mistakes between cities, 'cause after the first one i think i'd go back and make more solid plans.

it hasn't been too bad here, though. yesterday, i was sitting on a bench, looking at a map, and a girl came up to me and asked if i was a tourist too. i couldn't really deny it, and i felt like a douchebag for being so obvious, but it was a good thing. she had a red shirt and was from the west coast...we had a lot in common, so i spent the rest of the day with (mostly 'cause she had a plan, but also 'cause it turned out we had some other stuff in common). some day i'll get my stuff together...

oh yeah, and the second best pickup line ever is "so you're a girl, i'm a guy...coincidence? i think not"

pains au chocolat are great, as are french ham and cheese sammiches. "tete de veau" on the other hand, not so great.

tally ho!

the little differences

2004-08-19T05:03:00.000-07:00

whats great about europe aren't the huge differences, like driving on the wrong side of the rode (if you're in london, and yes, it is wrong) or speaking a different language, which is only wrong until i get used to it. no, whats important are the little: take this keyboard for example. it took me 15 minutes to write these tzo sentences (browse and mags, you might be happy to know that its an ibook). another is the money. because its different than the stuff at home, it really has no meaning. also, the scale in the bathroom at the london hotel showed weight in kilos and stones. i gotta get me one of these. but by far the greatest difference (though you might even call it a similarity) is that europe has countdowns on tv, too. but tv here has really added a new dimension to it. last night we were watching the oly,pics when we switched channels to "the top 50 ways to look great naked." they used real models and none of that crappy blurred look. bbc did an outstanding job.

so aside fro, that, i'd like to make a few additions to the last post.

first, i'm not so sure the italians were all friendlier, or if they just appeared that way.

second, gelato in italy really is better than anyplace else. it really ,ade up for the lack of spanish women...

third, we didn't have to sleep in stansted again. the shuttle busses run way later than the trains, so we bought bus tickets. the tickets were sold by two incredibly gorgeous italian women... i'll never wash this ticket again. we al,ost ,issed the last bus, though, because one of our bags got lost in Rome. shitty day.

so to top off the stress of losing a bag, we didn't get to the holiday inn until 215. it took another hour before we realized that we were supposed to be at the holiday inn on the other side of russel square... who decided to build two of the sa,e hotel on each side of russel square?? bitches...

so we got in at around 4, lace was sad, judy was relieved, and i got the bed instead of the floor.

the next day, we saw the england ,useum, which really made me want to study history of all sorts. darius, definately go there if you go to england. that night i had ,y first fish and chips at Gooses. i also had a guinness. this was a really enjoyable meal, because i was with old friends, in a new place, and i knewi wouldn't see the, for a year (i wasn't happy about this last part, but it helped me appreciate the moment).

later that morning, i woke up bitchin' (thats right bitchin') early at three to catch the 530am train to paris. i slept for al,ost the whole voyage, once i got used to the bickering of the brother and sister sitting just behind me (oh how i miss you anita).

now i'm in france. never have i eaten better, or slept so well... at least until 9am when the church bells which are litterally (not figuratively) let me know its time to get my bitchass out of bed. its even more effective than, say, ripping someones covers off...

yesterday francois took me on a tour of the chateaus de la loire. these are wear all the dukes and counts built their hunting cabins. right, cabins. at one, i even got to see the feeding of the dogs. they're very obediant when the trainer has a whip.

now, i'm off to prison. francois is the chapel there, and visits a few times per week. i'm not going 'cause i got arrested. who gets arrested?

come dite "conjunctivitis" en italiano?

2004-08-15T02:14:00.000-07:00

Spain was bitchin. we had a bunch of late nights that crept in to the touristy stuff we would've seen during the day. but no big deal. we still saw the picasso museum, the dali museum, and a bunch of gaudi stuff. it was neato.

the picasso museum was great. even though we had to wait a bitchin long time, seeing all the original stuff is waaaay different from looking at prints. having a little knowledge of what the paintings are about made all the difference (thank you rick steves).

there were two really awesome girls from canada living in our "ideal" hostel in spain, so we went out with them and a guy from ecuador (who's been travelling for six months). it was cool 'cause they didn't want to be surrounded by a bunch of dirty italian guys they didn't know...they totally wanted us. that night we also met two italians (one of which really liked pearljam...i dunno). we ended up seeing them at the airport on the way out. they scoffed at our choice of airline. "good deal, eh?" they said, and rolled their eyes. the plane was only two hours delayed.

in italy, we walked. unlike spain where me and kenny were in charge (which meant we slacked all day), here it was all judy. her friend lace and tamas, who'd been travelling with her for almost a week now, were completely tuckered out. kenny and i were used to the laid back spain atmosphere. we trucked around rome and saw a few of the sights, and every single trinket stand (no joke). everything was so old. the colosseum was bad ass though.

a side note: did you guys see anything in the news the other day about the pope almost dying? the happened at the exact moment we were visiting the vatican. st. peters church. that means i'm on the list, if you know what i mean.

i've noticed the people here are much friendlier towards americans. in spain, they seemed to want nothing to do with us. i might have just thought that because i like to make eye contact with people, and they'd have none of it, or soemthing else. but here, they just seem more open to us. maybe 'cause it was a bigger town?

we finally stayed in hotel. because tamas and judy were in charge, they decided we'd be in real accomodations. so we slept five people to a four person room that was only really big enough for three. we also had to sneak in every time. i think after the few days here, they were on to us. but once again, we made it out ok.

there was a really good restaurant down the street from our hotel. we ate there every night. our waiter looked like a jockey, but was a really cool guy. and he put up with the fact that we ate until close each night. i had the grilled dead baby cow each night (for some reason it made me think of home). it was so tender.

now we're getting ready to go the airport. our flight isn't until 21:45, but we have a whle bunch more luggage to carry with us. judy and lace decided they'd buy a whole set of faux louis vuiton bags from some vendors on the street. the vendors seemed extremely jumpy, though, so i think it gave them the hope that maybe they were real, just stolen. every time a cop came in sight, these really tall shady looking guys would grab their bags and book it down a side street. it was quite a sight.

we're off to london tonight, where we'll probably spend another night in Stansted. the stansted express stops at 2230, which really doesn't give us any time at all. if you guys ever travel, make sure you know how you're getting from the airport to your hotel. overnights in stansted are no fun.

still trying to live in the moment...the really really tired moment (it's catching up to me).

ps. i got you guys all pill boxes with a picture of the pope on the front and rosary beads inside. i'm going fund'y catholic.

paella is great, and so is barthelona

2004-08-10T14:24:00.000-07:00

in spain, they speak spanish. but don´t let that confuse you. spain is waaaaay better than mexico. i don´t really have any experience with mexico, but i can honestly say i like it better. every night i´ve been here, i´ve been out till about three. everyone is. the foods awesome. we went club hopping last night, and at 230am a mom was pushing her son down the street in a stroller. and she wasn´t the only one! (she was hot, too, just like all the women in spain. especially the spanish ones). also awesome.

the day after i posted last, i got to see san sebastians yearly festival. i think it was a better experience than seeing all the tourist attractions there are to see here. this may sound lame, but it was a neat cultural experience. i really felt like i got a glimpse of what it was like to be spanish.

at the festival, like most in the US (and probably everywhere) there were street performers. they had a fire juggler, lost of amazing musicians (i wouldn´t have minded spending the whole day listening to them), a whole orchestra, some marionnettes, and a silver cowboy. they were all very entertaining. the best part, though, were these costumed citizens running around the streets with inflated pork stomachs.

the costumes were funny. they were normal sized bodies, with gimongous heads (maybe three or four times the sized of a body). the fact that they had pork stomachs was funny. but the greatest part was what they were doing with the stomachs: without mercy, they were beating little kids (even the ones in strollers!!!) with the balloons. until they laughed from the loud noise, until they cried ´cause it hurt, the big headed nurses, cooks, pirates, beat the daylights out of ALL the little kids, parents, me, everyone! at first i didn´t get it, but then i couldn´t stop lauging. they costumes would chase the kids around, and the parents would offer their babies up to be beaten. it was great.

later that night, we stopped in at a tapas bar. in spain, you see, they don´t eat dinner like we do. it´s either a big lunch and a late late dinner, or tapas in the late afternoon. that´s what we did. at the bar, they offer up dozens of different tapas, which are three- or four- bitesized pieces of bread topped with pork, fresh fish, shrimp, salsa, peppers...you name it. anything they make in or near the town was on top. they were delicious.

after the tapas, we had a nap, then went out to watch the fireworks. now, i thought fireworks were fireworks, whether they were sparklers at cody´s, sparklers at aunt ´nitas, or a huge show in SF. but something about this display was different. literally, everyone in the city was on the beach, the harbor walls, even on top of cars, and they were all watching. this festival actually meant the same thing to everyone, and the fact that everyone came together to watch it made the night great.

then went out, danced, and got hammered. it was two for one night at club zibba.

the next morning, the plan was to head down to the train station and make our way over to barcelona (pronounced barthelona because...well, because). little did we know that at every ticket office in the land, there was a cranky agent. in bilbao, it was the bus agent that we got (he didn´t give us one of our tickets, even when we asked twice if what he handed us was all). in san sebastian, it was the station agent who wouldn´t tend to us (he told us to we needed a number, then proceeded to serve people who didn´t have one) and when we finally got to the ticket counter they were sold out.

i dunno exactly how we did it, but a long story short, we made it to barcelona. ask me about it when i get back.

now we´re in barthelona, and it´s great. it was a bit shady at first. partially because it was obscenely hot and balmy, partially because it was late when we got here and all the quesitonable members were out. but after having walked around for a day, eating some of the food here, and meeting some other travellers, i´ve changed my mind.

we visited some gaudi pieces (look it up), the picasso museum (which was gorgeous) and ate some paella at a little hole in the wall. seriously, the best meal i´ve had so far.

still living in the moment. hope you guys are, too.

miss ya

howdy howdy howdy...i mean, hola hola hola

2004-08-08T01:16:00.000-07:00

the flight over to london was nice. i wasn't tired enough to sleep on the plane, but i had enough of a nap that i had almost no jet lag. coming through customs in london was very reassuring.

so i've got a bunch of stuff to check off my list:

one is going to london. its a really cool city. just the right size to make "long walks" doable. places aren't as far apart as, say, corvallis and philomath.

Another is buying a pint from a pub. i had guinness. it gives good head. everyone should do it so they can say they've done it.

Also, i can now say i've stayed up all night playing texas hold 'em using copper pence in Stansted airport. like the genius my parents raised me to be, i bought tickets for the early flight to spain, so as not to waste a day travelling. unfortunately, transportation didn't start until 530am, the time checkin started. by the time we got to the airport, all the benches (every single one) were filled with other people taking the morning flight. i ended up going about 4 days with only 16 hours of sleep. i took lots of power naps to tide me over.

after getting in to bilbao, which has a hella coo airport with extremely lax customs, we walked through town, stopped at the first hostel we saw and got really lucky. they had a really nice room available. my friend kenny, who took some highschool spanish, was able to talk to the receptionist about getting the room. we dropped off our shite, took a shower and a headed in to town. which isn't much bigger than corvallis but has a pop. of 1 million. pretty buildings. amazing women. fun night clubs.

we stayed one night, then made our way across town to the bus station. there, we met a vietnamese australian, living in london, who was also travelling to san sebastian, the same place we were going. we started talking and eventually it came out that we were completely winging housing. it sorta frightened me to learn that it was going to be festival week here, so hostels were expected to be booked. she lead us to her hostel, though, and they had exactly two beds. it worked out very nicely.

after dropping off our stuff, which i'd worked up quite a swear lugging around, we went down to a bar for a drink then to the beach. yes, they do go topless. but it's not like "holy crap that girls topless." it's more like "wow, that's what they look like when they're get older, and older, and older."

luckily i didn't burn, but i'm sure being as pasty as i am will catch up to me eventually.

last night we went out to some clubs and a big party/outdoor concert on a pier. it was pretty cool. at one point we started talking to some other spanish kids. and by we i mean kenny. and by talking i mean lots of gesturing and making connections between broken spanish and broken english. it's fun trying to talk to people, though.

the street scammers we were warned about were out and about taking advantage of drunk, confident poor europeans. one was pounding a nail into a board in three hits. another was knocking over two packs of cigarettes spaced just barely less than the width of the ball. fun to watch...suckers.

crack dealers here seem alot more presentable. better product? deceived by the accent? i dunno, but they all spoke enough of three languages to toss their sales pitch "you like girls?"

living in the moment...in Spain!

the itsy bitsy spider...GOT FLUSHED! RAAAAHHH!

2004-07-29T00:38:00.000-07:00

Spiders really aren't so bad, especially the kind that give you super powers. in fact, i like those the best. i think i'd even consider having one as a pet. because of these feelings toward spiders, as some of you know, i always did my best to give the spiders at "the 'gout" a second chance. the 'gout is what all the cool people called our house at maple tree court. the name seemed a bit more appropriate after we'd all moved out. there were distinct marks where all the furniture had been and no one had walked for a year. also where big MARTIN SMASH!! had left his mark. it made me glad tysons mom had a carpet shampooer.

so anyway, instead of just squishing spiders, i'd catch 'em in some tissue paper and toss 'em outside. now, i wouldn't say i'm a fan of spiders (except for the one mac and laurel gave me, that ones awesome and the ones that give super powers), but i did my best not to kill them. there's something that doesn't seem quite right about that. it could also be that darius liked to squish spiders, so maybe i did the opposite just make things interesting.

but tonight i was dropping some kids off at the pool and happened to notice what i thought was a small cat or large rodent at my ankles. as it turned out, it was just a spider. a big huge scary looking spider like the ones from zoobooks with hairy legs and little pinchers the wiggle as they walk. *shudders. like i said earlier, i usually toss spiders outside, 'cause i'm not a big fan of killing stuff. but this spider freaked me out. i spent alot of time looking at it before i decided what i had to do. personifying things usually helps me feel sympathy. i tried to imagine it as a family-man-spider (which actually hurt it's case more than it helped). i thought it would be bad karma (then the idea of thousands of little baby spiders came back to mind). i came to one distinct conclusion: the only good spider is a flat spider. although i could have taken it outside, this monster was big enough that if it didn't think i was curteous or gentle enough with transporting it, it'd rip the garage door (my door) off the house and tell me so. and i wasn't ready to take on that much responsibility.

i flushed it and i'm sorry. but now i can sleep tonight and be absolutely sure i'll wake up in the morning. at the asscrack of dawn, i might add. i'm leaving tomorrow for LA.

you fold it in half

2004-07-25T19:01:00.000-07:00

you know whats great about little kids? they do what they're told...for the most part. they also do what you specifically tell 'em not to do, but that's another story (that's also not just little kids). no, this time i'm talking about my little brother. i told him to tell tc's joke in front of all of melody's friends at her birthday, 'cause i thought they'd get a kick out of it. not just the joke (which is hillarious), but also the fact that a 10 year old was telling it. i also knew that even if they didn't, i'd be laughing...all the way to the bank.

i also thought it would make for a nice hommage to my dad. he also knew the great thing that i know about little kids. my dad always insisted on me and my sister telling jokes at his parties (like the one about the old guy crapping in the fridge. there was also one about a parrot, but i don't remember how it went) aside from telling jokes, my dad also got (probably my sister too) me to do other stuff, like eat pickled pigs feet.

you may be saying "pickled pigs feet? that's gross. even as a little kid i wouldn't have done that." you say that now, but if your persistent dad who you love unconditionally came at you with ppf's insisting that you ate 'em (even if you told him over and over that you didn't, and believe my, i tried), you'd have dooooonnne iiiiiit. and i did.

and for just this reason, i'm glad owen is still telling that joke. and it does get funnier every time. maybe not to you, but to someone: me. probably martin tc and darius get a kick out of it, too. i dunno.

i also would apologize to melody, too, but i really don't feel so bad. it's not like she hasn't been scarred by penis jokes before, or her friends. at least not so badly as some others...

now i'm packing for LA. gonna go visit xizzzzaaan before i leave, and hopefully meet his new lady friend.

i dub this summer: "first times for everything"

2004-07-23T13:06:00.000-07:00

So this is gonna be where people find out what i'm up to for the next year. i'm gonna send postcards to you know who you are, and i'll probably call my mom every once in a while. but if you really want to know what's going on, this is where you'll trouve it.

For those of you who don't know, i'm going abroad next year to Poitiers, through oregon state university. hopefully this blog will not only be a good way to keep track of how i'm feeling (women folk have a word for these: diaries), but also will let everyone at home know what's going on. i'll try to post pictures and the such as i take 'em. this way you'll have faces to go with names.

For the moment, i'm still in san francisco. mostly when i'm home i stay out of trouble...mostly. yesterday was no exception (and of course by stay out of trouble i mean we don't get caught). my buddy jaymond and i went to see spider man 2, which was a pretty bad ass movie. Kirsten Dunst just seems to get hotter and hotter. she's come a very long way since jumanji. in corvallis, movie theatres are pretty small with maybe three screens, but they're all pretty close to the front desk. this makes it tough to movie hop. the century 20 in DC has gotta have 15 different screens all connected by dark halls. this makes it too easy to catch more than one movie at a time. which gives way with what i like to call: "operation quadruple feature."

i had never done it before. so i guess it was a good plan doing it with someone who'd had the experience. it seemed like we were in there for way too long. at one point i got really jittery, too. i dunno if it was just excitement or nervousness. maybe something i had eaten earlier. definately a night to remember though.

so jaymond and i were in the theater for 6 hours. we saw all of spider man 2, all of shrek 2, and half of the terminal (co starring my future wife, catherine zeta-jones), and the lamest part of king arthur. it was worth it though, 'cause we felt no remorse for making commentary throughout. the commentary included references to the other movies we'd seen that night and pointing and laughing at a bum. unlike my future wife, kira knightly (sp.) can't carry a movie alone without a good story. even with the help of the badass guy from lock stock and two smoking barrels/snatch.

i say "future wife" because katherine zeta-jones and i are going to get married. it was iffy at first, but then i got a cell phone with t-mobile. that was my in. ever since i've been certain of our love. we probably would've stayed longer had we not both been really really hungry...like tamas...get it?

this morning i got up waaay earlier than just about all summer ('cept for the one time my roommate mike was ever so kind enough to wake us all up 'cause he was still drunk and couldn't sleep) to go down to the french consulate and pick up my student visa. i got it. it looks cool. it's gonna let me in to france. plus, all the tellers in the conulate were very attractive.

it's good to be back in the city, but i'll miss all you guys back home.

anytime you need a room, the same goes. unless i don't have a room...then you can share a box with my buddy, the knowledgable bum. hope to see you in december.

smell you later.