The Flight Home

I should have recognized the trip wasn't going to go well when I inadvertently made a joke that could have been perceived as slightly racist. A man walks into the plane, wearing a really remarkable Juicy Couture sweat jump ensemble. He is putting his suitcase away when he turned to me and said, "It don't fit, it just don't fit" in a joking manner. I, without even batting an eye or thinking about it, responded with, "If the glove don't fit…you must acquit." I was greeted with silence, an the man abruptly sat down. Later, he put his seat back ALL THE WAY, thus leaving me with no leg room. Folks, I have learned that it is still not okay to make an OJ Simpson joke. I thought that particular period of political incorrectness ended around the start of the Michael Jackson trial…I was wrong.

After settling in my seat, I finally notice my companions in aisle 22 for the next two hours. They appeared to be a couple, as I quickly spotted their Zales Jeweler knockoff wedding bands. The Husband looked like he had tried to be an extra elf on the set of Lord of the Rings WAY too many times: Long uncombed blonde hair, coupled with what appeared to be tunic made of second hand fabrics. He also wore gloves the ENTIRE flight. His wife was a petite girl who looked like she was 12—no joke. I notice this is going to devolve into an uncomfortable situation for me, their 3rd wheel, when they begin to nuzzle noses with one another.

The woman on my right had an ENTIRE aisle to herself. When we were all boarding the plane, this particular woman took out her cell phone and called her father. The following is an excerpt of their conversation:

Woman: Daddy, oh Daddy, I just wanted to call you to tell you I love you so much, it might be the last time I can tell you that (begins to cry, Layne is starting to think the woman who is in her late 40’s might be calling a sick father in the hospital or something), Daddy, oh god, I’m so scared, I mean…there are so many plane crashes, :::cries louder, Layne comes to realize this woman is a)unstable and b) under the belief we are going to die:::: the lord is my Shepard, remember I said that as my last words, cause I just have this feeling…I had this dream we were going to die..and my dreams are always true…oh I love you, tell mom I love her too…if I make it I’ll see you in 4 hours…but I probably won’t…so I love you
:::hangs up the phone, cries for a while, then asks the people in the full row in front of her if anyone wants to come sit next to her to keep her company..Not surprisingly, No one responds to her.

45 minutes into the flight I have realized the man in front of me will continue to recline his seat until we have to land. Coupled with the fact that the elfin and his lady-bride have escalated to rubbing each others appendages; the 2 open seats next to Crazy aren’t starting to look so bad.

I walk over and I sit down.
Crazy: What are you doing?
Layne: I am sitting here…more room and space and such…
Crazy: What’s wrong with your seat?
Layne: :::stammers, doesn’t know how to verbalize, “I don’t want to watch the long haired one get off while his underage wife pets his gloves”…so I try to tell the truth and end the resolve the situation with grace:::: I have a proclivity for blood clots, and if I don’t have enough room for my legs, I could die.
Crazy: :::stares at me, probably wondering whether she should bestow her psychic knowledge that I’m going to die anyways in our impending crash—a premonition she probably received when she was having a binge on illegal codeine or something, instead, she meekly shakes her head and I sit.

I decide to pull out my ipod for in-flight entertainment. Looks like Crazy brought something too…only I realize she has brought a puzzle of Old Macdonald’s Farm. I’m listening to the second chorus of “Santa that’s my only wish this year” Britney Spears style with my eyes closed trying to get a nap..when I feel someone petting my leg. I look down, and Crazy is on all fours looking for something with a minature flashlight (we’re talking, size of your pinkie miniature) attached to a set of rubber duckie, troll, and teddie bear key chains.

Layne: What are did you lose? :::”aside from your IQ, EQ, Verbal Reasoning, Quantitative Skills and Pride”, I think to myself::::
Crazy: Oh, I just lost this piece of my puzzle..I think it was the one with the dog on it :::Did Old MacDonald have a Dog on his farm?::::::
Layne: Oh, that’s a shame :::Layne puts back on earphones and hopes that premonition she had about the plane crash comes to fruition soon::::

Crazy sits up on the floor, hits her head on the tray table, and the rest of the puzzle pieces go flying.
Crazy: Can you help me pick these up?
Layne::::::right now God, right now…send the lightning bold to hit this plane and all of its cursed travelers RIGHT NOW, Layne closes her eyes and waits for the crack of the bolt, it doesn’t come:::: I’m….okay, I guess I can help

I get on all 4’s in manner of Old MacDonald’s Dog himself, and search for puzzle pieces. I finally realize that people are staring, and maybe going to associate me with this woman, so I get up and go to the back of the plane. I stand there for about 20 minutes, and then I finally go back down the aisle, and reclaim my spot next to the couple in my row, who are now spooning with one another as best they can--given the special limitations of the seat construction.

I put on my music loudly and I fall asleep for a while (Since I hadn’t slept for 2 days straight). I am awoken by an announcement telling everyone to put away their electronic equipment. I look over and I notice Crazy is putting her puzzle away. I think someone should have probably told her puzzles from toys r us don’t constitute electronic equipment, and that she could continue to piece together the scarecrow’s body...

Aside: I'm at the hotel Mr Paul just walked in and didn't acknoweldge my presence. Strike 2 old man, one more diss and you're out.

Well, that's all I have time for. Until Next Time... Read more

Food, Glorious Food.

Today friends, I tell you about my adventure with the Welfare System of America.

When Mother and Father were displaced by Katrina to Western MA, they realized that they had 1-no income and 2-no money. So they, like any hardworking American would, decided to file for unemployment and welfare benefits. Seeing as how they were branded with the scarlet K--they had no problem getting these sorts of benefits.

Joanne and Dennis left 4 days ago, and decided (probably against their better judgment), that rather than waste the money left over from their food stamps, they should give it to their over-indulged only child in the midst of finals. The following is a true and accurate account of what occurred on Monday Night.

::Layne pulls into a Super Stop and Shop in Holyoke, MA. She decided it was probably a better idea to go someplace where no one affiliated with Mount Holyoke College would be likely to shop. She removes her extra large pearl earrings and stuffs them in her jacket, as to look more "the part", and walks in. She takes note of the the self-check out machines, she decides this would be her best option as to make an un-noticed escape with no one to question her, she is relieved.:::

:::Layne immediately decides to purchase imported goods. Why buy cheap items when she could buy shortbread cookies made in Scotland, little crackers made in France, and mangos imported from south America. She also decides to buy soy crisps, expensive cereal, expensive organic granola bars, and the like. No one is going to see what she purchases anyways.:::

:::Layne proceeds to the self check out lane when she realizes...it doesn't exist. She had hallucinated it in her "food stamp shopping" fury. She becomes panicked. She pushes her cart around the store in manner of the psychotic female protagonist from the Charlotte Perkins Gilman short story, "the yellow wallpaper"...eager check out clerks ask her if she needs help, she doesn't answer---she just runs away and attempts to find solitude in the rice and mexican food aisle:::

:::Layne is about to give up. Maybe she should just leave the car there and walk out without anyone taking notice. That's when her eye accidentally falls on a Zatarain's New Orleans Style Jambolaya Box. She realizes, "I'm a refugee, damnitt!" and regains her nerve. She walks to checkout with a newfound confidence. She realizes if someone questions her, she will a) remind them of New Orleans and b) take the moral high road and tell them her mother is bedridden:::

:::The Clerk proceeds to scan her goods when Layne realizes, "A bed-ridden woman would not request soy crisps or cadburys chocolate with her limited meager assortment of foodstamps"..Maybe they won't notice she is swiping a card that says MASSACHUSETTS AID instead of VISA GOLD PLATINUM..she swipes and the games begin...:::

Layne: Um, nothing is happening with the screen
Clerk: What did you press?
Layne: No, i mean, i pressed the one i was supposed to press, but yeah, it um didn't work ::Getting panicked...the jig is up::
Clerk: I understand that, but which button was it
Layne: ::covering her mouth and coughing simultaneously::: Um, foodstamps
Clerk: What did you say?
Layne: :::coughing louder and covering mouth more::: Foodstamps
Clerk: ::over loudspeaker:: I need the manager on aisle five
::Layne breaks out into a cold sweat. Was it the coach wallet that gave it away? Maybe the blonde highlights? She starts eyeing her quickest get-away path:::
Manager: Now what seems to be the problem?? the machine not working? you wanted to press the EBT?? Here let me fix that ::Fixes machine, Layne swipes, no problem, Layne enters the code, gets her receipt and runs out of there as soon as possible:: Read more

This post is long over-due.

You know you've been waiting for it...so here it goes.

BBC Pride and Prejudice VS. Keira Knightley Pride and Prejudice

First of all, I'm just going to preface this by saying I am an EXTREME BBC Colin Firth/6 hour/P&P fanatic. Like a--I watch it when i'm going to sleep sometimes, when I come home drunk I put it in and sing along to the music and I signed up for 18th/19th century dance solely because I want to reenact the Darcy/EB Ball Scene at Netherfield--extreme fanatic. So OBV, i'm one of those tricky demographics who will be sure to pay the money to see the money, while maybe not actually enjoying the film itself because there is no wet white t-shirt bit w/c.firth. That having been said, I found the film quite delightful.

First of all the new Darcy is an absolute dreamboat. I mean, maybe i'm not the most discriminating judge of "Dreamboats" as I may have once sent Stephen Hawking a valentines e-gram asking him to be mine...but that's neither here nor there. The new Darcy was tortured, tall, dark, British--I loved it. To top it all off...he's not the age of my father, which was perhaps a downfall for Colin Firth. However, I must admit I was upset that he didn't jump into his lake in a white shirt though..that was always a favorite of mine.

K. Knightley was also quite good. I thought she would be too pretty--but luckily for us, she's only pretty with blonde hair. Her smile continues to irritate me, but I could look past it for these 2 1/2 hours. She and the actor who played Darcy had really good chemistry, methinks, and that added greatly to the film.

Biggest Pet Peeve: Wickham, WTF? Wickham's character is meant to make you want to meet him in the back of an alleyway when no ones watching, NOT ask you to come back to the record studio to sing the 6th refrain of MMMBOP. SERIOUSLY, this guy was TROLL. Long hair never looks good on men, specifically not men with blonde hair and ESPECIALLY not British Men. AND WHAT WAS WITH THAT MUSTACHE? He looked like an out of work porn star. Bad acting choice on that one.

Secondly, COLONEL FITZWILLIAM, WTF? He was also grotesque. Aside from his age (circa 84), he didn't seem fun, and I always got the sneaking suspicion that he was waiting for the Director to yell "CUT" so he could go back to the food trailer and get seconds on Fish and Chips.

Okay, well, that's about all I have time for, so I hope you've enjoyed.

Read more

Public Enemy Number 1

I don't normally make it a point to post pictures of those who have angered me in many ways, but I think a picture is most necessary here. For all purposes, let us refer to this woman just as Penny, or Ptay for short. I don't want to go so far as to say that this woman has ruined my senior year, but she's coming pretty close. PTay "teaches" me geology--and by "teaches" I mean to say she verbally abuses me, yells at me for not being able to read a topographic map, then breathes her not-so-colgate-fresh breath on my computer screen.

Today Ptay decided it would be a FABULOUS idea to hold a debate on energy---wow, she must have broken the brain piggy bank to think that one up. Adding insult to injury, she started laughing during my portion of the presentation---I guess PTay didn't appreciate my SLIGHTLY over-dramatic tone (okay, it wasn't so slight...at the end of the presentation I yelled "THIS IS OUR CHARGE WE MUST HEED IT", but whatever.) Next time she laughs at me I think I'm going to throw a sack of mail at her and tell her to deal with it (In a not-so-former life she used to deliver mail for the USPS...now she's dripping sweat on my notebook while telling me about Global Warming.) Read more

My new home ?

This morning my father got a phone call from FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency for all you non-refugees out there) asking if he wanted a trailer to live in. His answer? Hell Yes. So Come Christmas 2005, I won't be waiting for Old Saint Nick's arrival in my Garden District Home (which, might I remind everyone, is livable and quite pretty when decorated for Christmas)--I will be waiting for him to come down that vent hole at the top of my FEMA Trailer. Also, my parents have so generously given me the trailer for my own particular use once I graduate from college. My future is so bright, isn't it? Read more

The Re-birth of my blog?

Dear Friends,
I've been thinking long and hard about this, and I think I may resurrect my blog. I realize that it is a) not the spring anymore and I am b) not traveling, however I think perhaps blog writing could be good for me. It would DEFINITELY help me be productive in school--much like the facebook has...(fast forward to Layne sitting in the darkness of her room, scanning profile after profile, drinking caffeinated beve's whilst fox's prison break hums in the background)...

I'm going to be honest though, I think the blog will seriously help me with my anger management issues. I'm going to throw this out there...I seem to have an extremely large number of totally absolute freakshows inhabiting my life. For instance..Anyone in a cape, anyone who carries skulls to class..Anyone who steals a library carrel..I find that all of these people have become a detriment to my life. Therefore I am going to air all of these freaky freaky interactions on my blog as a means of purging myself of them.

Layne Read more

Prague (yeah I am about 3-4 weeks behind in updates)

First off, let me just say I love this city. It is coming pretty close to surpassing Edinburgh as my favorite city i've been to. So, after a 6-7 hour train ride from Berlin where one member of the Team proceeded to get pretty lubricated with alchi, we arrive in the sketchy sketch train station. At this point, i've decided someone has played an awful joke on me, and Prague is actually a shithole. So we walk through the station, are probably pickpocketed by 439439 people, and eventually make our way to Amy and Brendan's hostel, where we meet this first character of the trip. Name: The Vampire TexMex Lestate, Age: unknown, Hometown: DEFINITELY unknown, as we were told Mexico, and others were told both San Diego and San Antonio. He was an employee at the Golden Sickle Hostel, and while he claimed to want to help us enjoy our stay, whenever swe asked him for his help, he promptly had to "go deal with an issue"....likely story. After getting them settled, we all took the metro to Jessie and I's Hostel. Now, the hostelworld description called this hostel a great find in a great neighborhood. Well, imagine my surprise when we get off of the metro and we have somehow been transported back to the Desire Housing Projects of New Orleans. Babies were running about defecating on the street and czech men kept eyeing my hair, probably wondering how much a wig made out of it would go for on the Russian black market. Did I feel unsafe? Is Michael Jackson certifiably insane? You get the picture here. Of course, the owner-cum-bag lady at the hostel spoke no english--and insisted I speak to her in German or Russian. As the only German I know is from the Ramstien Song, "Du Hast" (or "You Hate"), she probably thought I was a neurotic mess, constantly asking her why she hated me. After a meal of beer and beer, we went home early and hit the maggot infested sack.

The next day, we wake up and do all the tourist things one is supposed to do in Praha...so we decided that night we were going to sketch it up a little. We, not heading ANY of Rick Steves invaluable advice, decided to eat at a little czech restaurant I like to call "Buffallo Bill's". Several pints later, I'm making sexual faces at the czech waiter while eating my corn on the cob, Amy is licking her lips and making eyes at the same waiter, Jessie is staring at this train wreck of flirtatiousness with a horrified look on her face, and Brendan is off leading a czech/english bilingual guided tour in some metro station. At this point, we are pretty drunk. We attempt to find a Werhan suggested Jazz Club, but get terribly lost and imbroiled in a street fight where these drunk Irish Men started calling the street vendors Al-Queda, so we take one of TexMex's suggestion, and go to a pub right near Amy's hostel. In all our American Glory, we decide we are going to sit there and play asshole (ps, if you think I was the asshole 9times out of 10, you are correct). SOMEHOW (okay, actually, I do know how this happened, and lets just say it involved me asking for an ash tray and smoking a cig like it was a joint) we become involved with this crew of Canadian/American/Scottish men. From that moment on, the nights events sort of become a blur. Things I know for sure: I had to be reminded several times that I don't sell drugs (apparently I was offering hits for 100 krowns), 2 members of the Layne, Amy, Jessie, Brendan party made out for quite a while, John McCain grabbed someones ass--and money was stolen by someone who facebooked me 3 days later. All in all, a pretty good night. Read more

I am going to comprehensively update about the ENTIRE trip, stop by stop, every salacious detail, when I return from Roma tomorrow. Until then, Ciao! Read more

Wine Tasting Society at MHC anyone??

Classy is chugging a bottle of blush Chianti Wine at a wine tasting in Tuscany as middle aged couples from New York throw Euros down on the table to get you to do it. Needless to say, I came out of the entire situation with 14 euro, and about an entire bus full of new friends the age of my parents.

I'm in Florence, and the weather here is ABSOLUTELY dreadful. I thought Italy was going to be the sun and fun portion of SB2k5. I have pneumonia (only exacerbated by the cold showers I had to take in my Mafia run Ventian Hostel), probably multiple STDs from my gondola ride (and ipso facto my gondalier Guiseppi), my hair as definitely seen better days, and i'm pretty sure i'm going to kick it like Daisy Miller in the end.

My hostel owner is currently listening to trance, with blacklight and disco ball, in the hole in the wall(strategically placed next to the IBM Packard circa 1989 I currently type to you from) he calls home. While this is all evident to me, and sort of in the realm of hostel normalcy (well, what is normal when one has just come from a Hostel where at 10pm on the dot a DVD player in the box is transported to a Land Cruiser with Rims), what I am unclear about is how people keep coming out of his room. So far 3 people have left. I have not seen anyone go in, and when the door is open, I look in the room and it is empty..yet 3 minutes later, out walks the entire italian queer eye crew. I have more than a sneaking suspicion that this "hostel" might actually be a "swingers club" and if I don't watch myself, i'm going to end up in a menage-a-trois with the couple from Russia who smell of rot.

Ciao Bella! Read more

Neonazis, Punks and WASPs, oh my.

So I'm updating, YET AGAIN my friends, from Munich. Let me tell you what is fun: getting caught in a neonazi rally in a country where you don't speak the language. Good thing I decided to go full on aryan today with my Polo and Pearls, so fear not---all is safe here in Munchen.

Okay new topic of discussion: Let's talk about 35+ year old men and their new found obsession with me. First we have El Greco, Spyronwhateverthefuck, who spoke to me for MAYBE 1 minute, probably less--and in an attempt to get him to leave me alone, i gave him my number and ran away. 3 text messages, 2 phone messages and 1483 missed calls later, I'm realizing that may not have been the best idea. A) He doesn't know my name, instead only referring to me as Sweety in the various and sundry messages I have recieved (keep in mind, all went unreciprocated) B) his business card says "General Consultant" and "Location: Greece". C) He wanted me to meet him in Krakow, EVEN THOUGH HE DOESNT KNOW MY NAME AND I HAVE NEVER RETURNED A SINGLE CALL OR TEXT MESSAGE. So, Spyrifuckwit, if you googled "sweety" and SOMEHOW got this here blog, I have a message for you: LEAVE ME ALONE. Okay Secondly, we have man from bar last night. Spots me, starts speaking frantic german (oh, need i say age is circa 37). I give the ubiquitous "Oh i dont speaka your language" and try to run away...only to be physically pulled towards mid-life crisis when he asks me, in english if i want to see the other side of munich. Dont ask me what that means. Fellas, take the hint...WE DONT LIKE THEM OLD. Well at least, normal girls who don't wear capes aren't interested.

Okay, here's hoping the riot police who are hotter than colin farrel circa SWAT are still out and prowling the street. Even if I was yelled at for trying to take a picture of them. Comment Away. Read more

More Comprehensive Update

Héll0 ---or as our new sketchtastic german/czech/danish hostel friends say,"You Need to go drinking tonight because you are going to die tomorrow."

It is almost impossible to update city by city my observations, but since all 4 of you rely on my blog entries to go about your day--I feel I must at least try.

I think we should have realized the trip was doomed from the beginning. So we´re walking into Glasgow Prestwick ánd I see what can best be described as 700-1000 cheerleaders/girlscouts wearing hats with overssized cartoon characters all over them, singing songs and cheering. I am completely thrown off. Ever since I wasn't cool enough to join the girl scouts as a young girl (apparently constant crying and homesickness arent values they look for in a girl scout), i have been a little wary of the entire organization. So of course im pissed to potentially be stuck on a plane with this crew. Well, I believe the phrases, "There is NO way I am getting on that plane if they are on it.." and "WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE" were uttered at pretty loud volumes. At this point, this man, with about 53 small little boys circa 5 yrs of age turns around and informs me that, no, they are not cheerleaders, they are actually all mentally handicapped going on a special weekend that most have been waiting their entire lives for. Adding insult to injury, he tells me its okay I didnt know about it, he had to warn his sons too not to say things like I said. Keep in mind his sons are eating Gerbers.

HAMBURG
Do not go here. Do not think it is a good idea to go here because they make it look nice on brochures. It is actually a shithole, and I think i saw human body parts in the Thai Prison-esq bathroom we were charged 1euro to use. Here is a basic rule, you shouldnt be charging money for a bathroom when there is no divider between the womens and mens because a giant hole has been blown through. Also, lets talk about bringing dogs onto a train. Dont do it--because chances are, if you are bringing your rotweiller aboard, you arent smelling too good to begin with.

BERLIN
We arrived into the East Berlin Train station--and, not to be totally and completely politically incorrect here--it reeked of communism. And while there was a Mickey D's there-- I couldn't help but think they were portioning and rationing French fries in the back We arrive to our humble abode for the evening--a little place called the "Mittes"--or as I like to call it, "shits". Why you ask? Oh..maybe because when I went to my bed a bat fetus of a woman was wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in the ubiquitous fetal sucking thumb no doubt--all the while, ON MY BED. So I go downstairs to the really competent chap working front desk, he was probably on blunt number 3 I would say. I inform him of my problem, which he decides to fix by taking another guests shit off of their bed and telling me its mine. Fine--if the man in charge downstairs says to do it, it will work, and as it is 2am, im sure no one is coming for that bed anyways. W R O N G. Fast forward to 6am when a drunk british man starts full body pushing me and yelling for me to get out of his bed. I wake up, look around, notice no one is going to help in, what is eventually going to deteriorate into drunken cage style street fight in the bottom bunk of this bed, and decide I would rather spoon with my new friend Juan Pablo instead of fight bad-teeth. Luckily another bed was open, and I didnt have to go south of the border with my new friend, but needless to say, it didnt really endear me to the place.

Well, I feel like i've left you with enough salacious details to keep you reading--so I must go. Hope all is well, and be sure to leave comments so I know someone actually reads this. Cheers! Read more

UPDATE FROM PRAHA

Hello faithful readers, all 4 of you. I'm reporting from Prague--I can't give as good an update as I would like--but rest assured over the past days I have met: The entire NFL Berlin Thunder Team, John McCain, Frans Dietrach, Juan Pedro, Lestate, Buffallo Bill, the entire School of Brewery of Edinburgh (??yes, only in praha), a drunk englishman who climbed in my bed, and various and sundry other randaminos of my acquaitence.

Some Quotes from Last Night sketchiness like you wouldnt believe, praha style:
"Would you rather do Tom Cruise, or give Donald Sutherland head?"
"Layne, you do realize that you just bought his entire meal and drink with my money don't you?"
"The strip clubs are no good--go to the discoteca with me and party all night lonnnnggg "-John McCain circa 70 years of age
"What are you doing?", "Don't worry, i'm just putting your full name into my palm pilot"
"The strip clubs here are class acts. Not like in the states where they don't show you anything." Read more

I feel lame giving this a title

Let's talk about the weather in Berlin: Rainy and Cold. EXCUSE ME? THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE SPRING BREAK. Awesome-rainy and cold in Prague. Hmm let's go ahead and check Munich--YOU DON'T SAY? Rainy and Cold. Just for arguments sake, I'm going to check to see what the weather is like in Kandahar. Well would you believe..Its 86 degrees and sunny there? Next year, come spring break time, I know where I'm headed in a desert all-terrain vehicle.

Also, I just want to acknowledge that yes, I realize the title of this..Well I can't even really type it out because when I do I feel like such a loser (I mean, not to judge those who do it..I just think, in general, that you are freaks) but I realize the title of this (starts with a B and ends with a Log)is really terrible. "Spring Travels" Who the F do I think I am? Ms. Elizabeth Bennett...Jane Austen-Style? I can't really see E.B (pride and prejudice losers know what this means) downing pints of Straopramen and sleeping in a Hostel bedroom with potentially 18 other miscreants who may or may not be gainfully unemployed.

Also, I'm so glad that we are now approaching 2am and I have yet to pack one item. I'm not too worried about it though--although i'm sure when i'm in Venice i'll realize i've forgotten something I can't live without--like batteries for my pacemaker.No, I don't have a pacemaker

Enter the drunkards into the K.C Courtyard. Let's keep our fingers crossed that my good friends, "You Steal My Bike I stab you with a Knife" make another appearance tonight. I very much enjoyed when the gangly one proceeded to strip and jump on top of cars, all the while screaming, "I'M GOING TO CUT YOUR BLOODY BALLS OFF" as he pounded the concavity that was his chest. OH WAIT, YES, MY DREAM HAS COME TRUE--while it appears as if "You Steal My Bike.." has gone on holiday, "OH YEAH GIVE IT TO HER, GIVE IT TO HER GOOD, STICK IT TO HER, POUND HER" has come to take his vacant time slot. Let it be known: there is no one else in the courtyard, and the individual is screaming with his eyes closed.

On that note: i'm going to pack. Read more

It's the end of an Era

I can no longer sit on my moral high-horse. I have become one of you blogfreaks I frequently hate on unmercifully. Does this mean I need to buy a cape/dye my hair black/start collecting swords? Before you get the hot iron seal to stamp my hand in skull&bones secret society manner--let me make one thing clear: I am only doing this during my trip, to appease my parents worry that I will end up in a Berlin cabaret singing "It's Raining Men" whilst wearing a mustache and a top hat. I mean, that might still happen--I'm not going to rule it out--but at least I can write about it here so my parents will know.

I would now like to take this time to address the things that puzzle me about Scotland.
1-Since when did men think it was EVER acceptable to style their hair in a half-Mohawk half-mullet? I wish these people would stop making Prince(as in, the artist formally known as) their fashion Icon. Otherwise, my fear is that over time their hair is going to genetically mutate into horrific style--and Scotland will become the butt of even more jokes than they already are.
2-When did the O.C theme song become the #1 club song?? There is nothing more disarming than seeing the t-rex haired scottish men (as addressed above) jumping up and down screaming "CALIFORRRRRRNAAA" (yes, you read that correctly, californa..They can't even really pronounce the name of the state)

Sidebar: It is now 11:30, and my eurail pass has not yet arrived. I mean, I do have until 5, as the time frame they gave me for delivery was sometime between 9am and 5pm. Don't you love when they do that? I mean, I would almost prefer, "Get ready to sit in your dingy room all day" to "The time frame of delivery is between 9 and 5" DO THEY REALIZE THAT IS 8 HOURS? I would HARDLY qualify that as a "time frame".

This whole entry is going to degenerate very quickly into an all out rant about the newest objects of my unadulterated hatred (the u of e library, DHL Parcel Service, the kid whose alarm clock has been going off for upwards of 8 hours, Canada, West Virginia and Florida--some things never change), so I think it's probably time I ended this thing. Maybe this will be both my first, and my last entry--I guess only time will tell. But if you are going to be sitting at your desk with baited breath waiting for my next entry, I feel like it's maybe time you got some new hobbies. Read more