How to Work My Apartment Shower

1. Turn on the hot water.
2. Make a sandwich. Call a loved one. Have a good time! It'll be awhile.
3. Check to see if the hot water has turned on. If not, repeat step two. If so, continue to step four.
4. Apply ointment and bandages to all burns.
5. Fiddle (that's a technical term) with both the cold and hot water knobs until the water is a bearable temperature. This is hard to do with bandages covering the burn marks on your hands. Bring a television! It'll ease the boredom.
6. Get into the shower. Watch out for the super slick coating on the shower floor.
7. Fall over.
8. Swear.
9. Check to make sure all vital bodily components are still in place.
10. Get out of shower.
11. Drink beer.

An incredibly brief (really, this time) blog about my Mexican sping break

Behold! The glory of Mexico! Home of the ever-wet, eternally hung to dry clothes, housing built from decaying, graffiti-ed brick, and thousands of Mexican's anxiously awaiting their next nap! Wait a minute. Real Mexico sucks. Its dirty, it smells bad, and there's always the vague possibility of rape waiting behind every corner. Hold on a second...














Behold! The glory of fake Mexico! Home of free drinks, housing built from cheap Mexican labor (to keep the cost down for wealthy American tourists), and thousands of Mexicans waiting to make a joke about tequila and/or sell you ugly trinkets. Fake Mexico rules. Its semi-clean, it smells like meat and booze, and there's always the possibility you might see a frat boy fall into an alcohol induced coma.

Other highlights:

• My illustrious and rather inebriated father's attempt at making a do-rag (how the hell do you spell that?) out of his napkin one night at dinner. He eventually gave up, tied the napkin around his neck, and play-acted a character he called "Tom the Gay Cowboy."
• Ziplining across the trees, despite the fact we were taken to the zipline place in some guy's shitty jeep and my mom thought we were going to get shivved the entire time.
• Parasailing. Up that high, I was really able to appreciate the serene and majestic beauty of all creation and the inner peace that comes from True Understanding. Also, I tried to spit on some jet skiiers but I kept fucking missing.
• The following exchange-- Dad, leafing through the resort catalog: "Oh, look, you can get married here." Mom, opening a beer at 11:00 am: "I've already been married. I never want to do it again."
• The day we swam with dolphins. It legitimately was a very, very cool experience. They were taught to sing and give kisses, and they even swam on their backs while tourists laid on their bellies. Our guide also told us they like to scratch and bite each other during what must be very rough sex. Just like you kinky bastards.

Well, that's all for now. I'm going to start posting much shorter blogs, because then I'll do it more often.

I Suppose It's Time I Got Off My Ass, Huh?

Jesus. I'm lazy. However, due to overwhelming popular request (thanks, Jenny) and so Jamie stops telling me I'm wasting my life, I will resume posting. Because I am back in America (more specifically, Iowa), chances are this will be boring as hell. But what else do you have to do, asshole? Anyways, this one will be fairly short.

End of Europe--

Scotland-- Scotland was very cool. Nice people, amazing food. Also notable for three things.

1. Man Day! I ate large amounts of dead animal, drank whiskey, and smoked a Cuban cigar. If I had fondled a breast and revved an engine, I'd officially be a man. ...Although, truthfully, the unbridled machismo of the day is tempered when I consider my reaction to the whiskey ("It tastes like fire!") and that the meat was salmon. As for the cigar, well... afterwards I drunk dialed and gabbed like a 13-year-old girl after two Bartles and James. I suppose if I had copped a feel it would've been a tranny, and the revved engine would've be attached to a segway. I'm not much of a man.
2. The Scotch Whiskey Museum. Here I bought my brother a bottle of what appears to be pure gasoline. During the tour they show the single greatest video known to man. And by "greatest," of course, I mean "cheesiest." In it, an American tourist with a plaid, tucked in shirt and a massive, Jimmy Olsen-esque camera around his neck visits a Scottish bar. After ordering a drink in the most hamfisted way possible, he turns to the bartender and says (read as if this were delivered by an uber geek, kind of like the Mormon dad from South Park)...

   "(looking lovingly at the glass of scotch) You know, my grandfather used to work for one of your distilleries, and the stories he used to tell-- Whoo! (shakes his head) ... I sure wish there was a way to learn more about Scottish whiskey."

   The bartender's response? "Well, just bring the whiskey to your lips and say the magic words..." and so forth and so on. It was a majestic and beautiful film that left me in tears.
3. Sadly, Scotland is the only country I forgot to pee on. I had opportunities, too! I just plum forgot. Alas. I'll just have to go back.

Manchester-- Went to a supposedly important Manchester United soccer game (who the hell knows if it really was? I don't) against Benfica. I have no interest in soccer, but I found it kind of like baseball-- that is, about as much fun as an enema on TV, yet enjoyable in person. Watching the crowd was a very interesting experience, too. The game was 0-0 , with Manchester dominating, until late in the first half. During this time the crowd was energetic and supportive. After Benfica scored a fluke goal they became pissy and jaded, and when Manchester went up 2-1 they were unbelievably cocky. After the game we stumbled over all the empty bandwagons and had some drinks.

Later, right before coming home, I went back to Manchester with Jamie for a Tenacious D concert. Hot damn was it a good show. I'll spare you boring details, but just know that during the show they were electrocuted to death plugging in a toilet seat guitar, went to hell (JB- "How do we know this is hell? Maybe heaven is all red and fucking hot!"), and formed a band with Satan's son and the souls of Colonel Sanders (chicken brutality) and Charlie Chaplin (he was gay, at least according to the D).

Ireland-- Had a great cabbie who Ireland who abstains from alcohol and tobacco because, when he was 16, his dad sat him down and forced him drink beer and smoke unfiltered cigarettes until he was violently ill. Wants to change the Guinness slogan to "Guinness: You'll Bleed Out Your Arse." That being said, I got really drunk there, because there is nothing else to do and the food/pubs are phenomenal. No real interesting stories, however. Hmph. Sorry.

Anyways, that was Europe. If you're curious, the main difference between Europe and here is that in America, people are dicks. That's all. I'll relate more if I think about it. Sorry for the boring post, but I felt like playing catch up. Look for a post every other week or two, if you care. Peace out peoples.