London part two, electric bugaloo

I totally cannot type when I have had wine. So srry if this is rife with error. (Ok, I can remember words like 'rife' but can't rememebr how to spell sorry? jeez.)

I got my hairs cut yesterday. Remember that movie, Edward Scissorhands? Well, it was a bit like that. The hairdresser, a cool guy named Michael, is like the Curly Hair God and he totally made my hair his bitch. (He has a salon, called Unruly. It's good. A bit wierd to find the first time, but an awesome place in this sort of Creative Idea Building, the Westbourne Studios, full of designers and stuff. cool. Very vibey. He also has a blog, go here for that.) Anyhow, at one point he had me stand up and he stood behind me and just scissored bits of my hair off my head. I was the hedge, he was the gardener. Just like in the movie. I saw my hair flying in every direction. A bit unnerving, but it totally worked, he cut off about three pounds of hair but he cut off just the RIGHT hair and I really like the cut i got. I will totally visit him again.

After the haircut and some shopping (I found the most awesome dress at Zara) I went to see Spamalot at the Palace theatre. That is THE show to see if you are a Python fan. Good fun and hilarious as hell. I totally want to see it again. Ohmigod it was HILARIOUS. I had to pee the whole time, and not from my unusually small bladder, but from laughing. It was THAT good. I met up with Martin (a coworker and friend of Rich's who is in town) and his daughterAimee for it, they just made it in time for the show after driving over half of England that day. God I laughed my ass off. At the end of the show, a confetti shower was unleashed from the ceiling of the theatre all over the audience and I had a metric ton of it in my cleavege, which I am saving as a souvenir. I took pictures of it, on the floor of the hotel, as I got undress it showered out of my dress and even I was amazed at how much got into my clothes,. I think I will make a dress out of it. Or maybe a shirt. Not sure how much I have. but there is lots.

Anyhow, Martin and I went out for drinks after the show (Aimee had to catch a train back to her grandparents) and we managed to stay out until 3:30 am. We went to a bar on Dover street full Hooray Henrys and posh blond women. Good wine, though. I, in a fairly stunning example of grace, took a cab back to the hotel and as the cab driver stopped suddenly outside the hotel, I flipped ass over applecorn onto the floor of the cab, my ass in the air and my wallet and coins all over the floor. This is easy to do in London cabs as the back seats are fairly roomy and if you aren't prepared at a sudden stop, you take a tumble. (Is anyone surprised when I say this is not the first time I've taken a tumble in a London cab?)I was giggling madly as I tried to get my dress off my face and my legs back onto the floor. Luckily it was just me in the cab, I had dropped off Martin at Victoria Station to catch his train back, so no one saw my ignominy but me and the cab driver. I got to bed at 3:30 and did not get up until noon, which put a damper on my Extreme Shopping Day I had planned. Instead I just wandered around King's Road with a massive and progressively more intense hangover, to the point where I gave up and went to a pub and had a warm beer in front of a cold fireplace. I did get some cute silver sandals, though.

This evening i met up with my cousin Edward at a restaurant called (and I will btucher this but never ye mind) Le Relais de Venise, in Marylebone (huh huh she said bone) Street, which serves only one dish: entrecote and fries. (Beef and taters.) And wine. Weeeeee! So we had beef and taters with special sauce and chatted and laughed. Both my young cousins are very handsome young men and Edward in particular is quite the style maven, very sleek in his Ted Baker suits and city pinstripes. We had a nice time, ending the evening at a sort of sad pub with strange drunk people singing tunelessly and loudly, with too many vowels and not enough consonants. There was one annoyingly poncy guy there who was from Miami, but spoke with a Brrritish accent, as he had lived in london for 10 years. Dude, sorry, but you don't pick up accent just cuz you live in Britain. Urg. If that weret he case, I'd be speaking English with a Norwegian accent!

It#'s 10:30 and i am going to crash now, I need my beauty rest.
Back to Norway tomorrow.

posting without plan, grammar or talent

I have nothing to say. I think this merits bullets. Read at own peril. Pronouns optional.

• Bored.
• Watched "Wet Hot American Summer"tonight. Ever seen it? That's one frigging funny movie. It's the perfect movie for the 13 year old me, except the 13 year old me would not have gotten half the jokes, so it's better for the much-older-than-13 year old me.
• Have been drinking a nice French pinot noir. From the Bourgogne region.
  
• Sauteed some chicken breasts and had those with black beans.
  
• Farting will commence anon.
  
• I really should pack for my trip to London but am instead avoiding everything by noodling about on the web.
• Bad me, bad.
  
• Will procrastinate further by taking a nice hot bubble bath. How decadent is a hot bath with a glass of wine? Woo!
• The bubbles will be made a bit more fragrant with black bean farts.
• Just kidding. Girls don't fart.
  
• Ever.
• We just explode.
• *Poof.*
  
• I really think I am funny here.
• You probably don't agree.
  
• Posts like this are probably why my hit counts have gone down of late.
  
• I don't really care.
• I might just change this post to '100 things about me".
• But I think I am too lazy to do 100 of these bullet points.
  
• This wine is good.
  
• And I have a whole bottle of it.
• Ok, I lie, half a bottle now.
• Yes I am a cheap date.
  
• And a happy drunk.
• I had to look at Borat's crotch again this AM.
  
• Didn't crave limes.
• Craved a lighter so I could burn the cardboard thing down. I am not anti-Borat, I am anti mankini before 9am.
• Have lost ability to write sentences. Can only do phrases.
  
• This is a bad thing for someone who must write at work.
• Told naughty stories at lunch at work today.
• Everyone at work thinks I am a freak.
• Except the Canadian girl I hang with, but she's a freak too.
• I like her.
• She's funny.
  
• She says "eh" and "aboot" just like you'd expect from a Canadian.
  
• I can't stop these bullet points.
• It's addictive.
  
• Help me!
• I think I will use the patchouli romance hippy granola bubble bath when I take my bath.
  
• Which I will go do now.
• Don't picture me naked.
• I bathe in shorts.
• Not.
  

DAMMIT I hate to miss a party

Me in Orleans, France. A trip I took with my family in late 2002. I will party anywhere, with anyone, and come from a long line of happy drunks.

One thing about me is that I am a social kinda gal. Back in Austin I was kind of the den mother of a largish group of folks, always planning some sort of gathering or other to make sure all the chickies are happy, chatting and drinking. Sometimes I plan things here, too, but not as frequently as I did at home due to expense and problems with transport. I frequently get Evites for parties back home, which is bittersweet, as 1) I am so glad I am still on the lists but 2) really annoyed I can't join 90% of the time.

Then Dave posts about this TequilaCon gathering and I just get all jealous cuz it for damn sure seems like I missed a good party. I HATE missing a good party. Grrr.....

I think I am going to post party pictures from past gatherings. Just to remind myself that I can get my freak on when I want.

A Halloween party Chez Karla in Austin. I hosted that annual party for years, and people really went nuts dressing up. this is my favorite picture from many years of parties.

This is me at New Year's this year. Singing karaoke at the neighbors, and might I say I sang the SHIT out of the Police's Roxanne.

A quieter party at Mama Malcontent's ranch in the hill country of Texas. Those are magical times; good friends, campfires, beer-a- plenty and stars so numerous you can almost read by them. When I think of home and friends my thoughts frequently go here.

This was in 2000 or so, at the now defunct Waterloo Brewing Company in Austin. We'd meet weekly for pint nights on Wednesdays. Damn I miss that place. That's Craig, Clark and Alan in horrible fluorescent light.

A Halloween party here in Norway. Lesley is the witch, Rich is Cher and I am Sonny.

Rich and I in Copenhagen. I like big beers.

Me as a 20's screen siren and Julia as...me! Halloween 2001.

Me and Bookhart. This is Halloween, jeez, 1998? She's a hippy and I'm in a sari.

Me and Bookhart, she's Madonna.

Me and Bookhart and Craig at Opal Divine's in Austin. I just posted this because I like this picture of me. I'm pretty sure this was someone's birthday? But I don't remember who.

Sigh. I miss my buddies. But that could be the wine talking.

Age and Loneliness

On Friday night we usually go to the local pub to meet up with some of Rich's work buddies, a good, funny group of guys who I enjoy talking and verbally sparring with. Witty jibes fly around and hijinks ensue. There is always too much beer, loud talking and general TGIF silliness.

This time at the pub a rock band played. (Frequently they will have trad jazz bands, which don't get me wrong, they are musically amazing, but it's music from the 40's and so on, so it draws a definitely older skewing crowd. This tends to put a little damper on our evenings of letting off steam, as I, for one, feel like I have to behave a bit better when Oma and Opa are in the house. I am not a huge fan of jazz, though like I have said, they are stunningly talented and so I can appreciate it for that.)
The band that played on Friday reminded me of that band in the Commitments, remember that movie, where this normal looking guy suddenly just BELTS out songs in a voice that has to be heard to be believed? Yeah, they were like that. He could sing anything, even Soundgarden and hairbands, blues, whatever, he could sing it. He sang one song (I can't remember which one right now) that was a quintessential 80's head banger song. And I, with this hair, and a few beers in me, proceeded to head bang.

Which was my first mistake. Because my neck is now fucked up and I can hardly move it. Ironically, even as I was doing it, throwing my hair around and having a high old time, I told someone that I was gonna regret this later, as I have about a three bang limit before my neck remembers the hurt for days. And so my premonition came true. Ow. Getting old sucks.

Rich left to go to the States today. And I am quietly freaking. He used to travel alot for work, to the point where I got used to him being gone (and that did NOT do good things for our marriage, let me tell you, and we are STILL working on being a couple and being together all the time. We both became way too independent over 10 years of separateness.). Anyhow, I think we might have turned that corner of coupledom, because it feels WIERD being here alone. I'm restless and a bit antsy. So I started cleaning. So far I've:

• cleaned his bathroom (and decided that our "self bathroom management" routine is gonna stop, because that boy obviously does NOT clean his bathroom), (ew),(and in Todays' Dumbass Move I accidentally turned on the shower while standing in it cleaning it, thus soaking myself with cold water and getting a short sharp reminder of what a dork I actually am),
  

• reorganised the linen closet,

• reorganized the "junk room" (a never used sauna in the flat),

• cleaned my room and reorganized my socks, (a big job, I have lots, which is strange for someone who dislikes socks),

• scrubbed the kitchen, and the trashcan and took out the garbage (!!!)(I generally don't do garbage)(ever),
  

• rekitted the bed (using linens that he has professed a dislike for but that I love, so I can use them while he's gone nyah nyah)(now the bed's all black sheets and red and black duvet and with leopard spotted pillows, grrr...),

• cleaned my bathroom,
  

• done 5 loads of laundry,

all while dancing to my favorite stuff on the iPod cranked to ear splitting levels, something I can't do while he's here because he is not that fond of my music. (He likes "calm" music, I like ass kickin' music.)

Thank GOD I've planned the trip to London while he's gone. And I've also been invited to go to the company hytte (cabin in the woods) for a couple of nights, to do the traditional Norwegian "get out of town and into mountainous nature" thing. I've never done it, always wanted to, even though the hytte doesn't have running water and has an "incinerator toilet". I have no idea what an incinerator toilet is, but I am envisioning ass-burning flames shooting up from it as it nukes whatever you might deposit therein. Like you are crapping into the mouth of hell......
Anyhow, the plan is to cross country ski in easy stages (which is good, as guess who has also never skied??) sit in the sun and eat oranges and drink hot chocolate (oranges being an Easter thing, I'm told, and hot chocolate being, well, hot chocolate). In the evenings you light a fire, read, drink and chat. I think we have margaritas and cosmos in our future. (Remind self to get Cointreau at duty free.) Sounds lovely, doesn't it?

I don't know that I could be here in this flat for two weeks and be this restless. I'm so glad I have things planned. I seriously see myself rearranging all the furniture, bare handed, if I don't have things to occupy me. I've done it before, you know.

I used to be really good at being alone. Hmm.

stuff that happened in Paris

I feel like bullet points on this one.

• Everywhere we went we saw the entourage of the visiting President of Mongolia. He was driven around at a fast clip in a navy blue Peugeot, followed by 5 more of the exact same car. In the lead were at least 6 motorcycle cops and following behind all the motorcycles and Peugeots were two largish vans with big windows, filled to overflowing by the faces of desperate Mongolians taking pictures of everything they could as Paris whizzed past their windows. I think all their pictures must have been a blur. We saw them fly up to Notre Dame, then race past the Eiffel Tower, and then later the next day I saw the whole crowd shooting up the left bank of the Seine, sirens whining, Peugeots Peugot-ing, lights blinking and desperate cameras flashing plaintively at whatever they passed at street level.

• Our flight arrived in Paris at 9:15 am. I wanted to take a walking tour at 11am. In order to do this, I had to ask Rich to please take our luggage on ahead to the hotel while I ran to catch the tour. He very kindly did so, which enabled me to join a wonderful tour of the fashion history of Paris, taking in two century old shopping arcades, the Palais Royal and the legendary shop owned and run by Didier Ludot (on the premises that day and very tall and distinguished looking indeed)(scroll half way down the somewhat pretentious link for good photos and info). There are no prices in the window, it is very much the sort of place where if you have to ask you can't afford it. It is also by appointment only. Bummer, I would have loved to have checked it out. The owner was in and was rearranging his windows with the most marvelous dresses. We paltry tourists were ignored with nary a glance. We also went to Marc Jacobs new shop, a few doors down, and I scored a t shirt (ironically it says "London" with an image of a double decker bus on it) and a canvas bag. I figure I'll get a "Paris" t-shirt at Marc Jacobs when I go to London. The people in that shop were very nice and I got teased by the other ladies (ALL ladies) on the tour for my guerilla style of shopping. Hey, years of practice with an impatient husband has made me fast.

• Was that the longest bullet point ever or what?

• On that tour I was recruited to join a ladies expat social group by a British lady in a strange hat. I was flattered, but also mystified. It's a legit and fairly highbrow group, I have no idea what they want with a tattooed, trash talkin', beer swillin' Texan like me. anyhow, she made me SWEAR that if we ever move to Paris (the chance exists) that I look her up.

• After the tour I walked allllll the way from the Palais Royal, past the Louvre, and the Place Concorde up the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe, near which was our hotel. I realized as I finished that it was maybe a bit too much for me, having not walked that far in months, and wearing my cute, comfortable- but- not- for- 7- mile- walks, knee high black leather pirate boots. My feet were KILLING me.

• Rich and I met at a cafe near the hotel after my walk where we proceeded to start an evening of wine drinking that ended in about 6 bottles downed between the two of us. I also had a "when in Rome" moment and bought some smokes. Hell, I was drunk, we both smelled of cigarettes anyhow, and I WAS in Paris. Rich was tolerant of my smoking, something he generally would NEVER be. Must've been all that good wine.

• Every person we dealt with, whether at a restaurant, a shop or wherever, was extremely nice and we were not treated rudely once. I attribute this to the fact that we were both fairly well dressed (no jeans or sneakers for Rich, me all in black all the time and carrying my FAB purse) and we both made sure to bon jour the hell out of everyone we met wherever we went. The French always will greet you and acknowledge your entry into a place, and say "pardon" for every real or imagined infraction of space or etiquette. I found it very refreshing after living for so long in Norway where you might get a "beklager" (sorry) but only if someone knocks into you really hard.

• The first day and a half were relatively warm, the last day and a half were cold, but only because I did not dress warmly enough. Whenever I leave Norway I get this mindset that "I'm not in Norway, it won't be that cold" and then end up freezing my ass off as it IS cold, or at least cold enough to warrant more than the light jackets I bring. It also drizzled alot, but we were both armed with parapluy's.

• Our hotel room was so small that one of us had to sit in the middle of the bed if the other wanted to move around the room. The bed was not very big either. Luckily the front desk girl was extraordinarily sweet and moved us into a junior suite our last night (of three) and that made a huge difference. She would have moved us earlier but the place was fully booked.
  

Gay Paree

Ah Paris. The memories....the good times....

Though I must admit, whenever I go to Paris, at some point I end up being really, really drunk. I think it's mostly because the wine is so good, so cheap and so everywhere. Actually, forget mostly. It's just because. I just can't resist good wine.

The first time I went to Paris, I went with my friend Julia, whom I have known since I was five. We were 17 that time. We went with a busload of German tourists from Hamburg. (I spoke neither French nor German, so relied on Julia to translate German when I needed it, which taught me to never trust your German best friend when climbing mountains, but that is another story altogether. ) I discovered rose' wine and drank alot of it one night. Pink wine! Cool! I was rather fond of the new (to me) idea that wine could be bought by the liter in these cute carafes and they would just refill them whenever you wanted. And it was cheap! And I was 17! And the waiter was cute! Woo!

That night I ended up quite wasted. I vaguely remember falling out of the elevator at our hotel when it got to our floor. The elevator landed an inch or so below floor level, I tripped over the height difference and did a face plant, landing giggling on the floor of the hall. Julia gamely picked me up by my armpits and dragged a laughing me back to our room. That night a windstorm blew through Paris and I distinctly remember being woken by the sounds of windows slamming and doors rattling and an American voice ringing out "Auntie Em! Auntie Em! It's a twister!" I giggled, then groaned at the discovery that 17 is not too young to have your first hangover, and went back to sleep.

The second time I went to Paris was in February 2005. You'd think I would be smarter after 18 years, wouldn't you? Hell no.

This time I went with my friend Karen. We went for a long weekend. It was cold and wet and rather bleak, but still, Paris worked its charm on me. I was a bit apprehensive to go, I will admit. I had some wierd experiences there that first time I went that I did not want to repeat. But, the people were nice, the food excellent and, as would be expected, Karla got drunk.

This time Karen and I went to this restaurant that was all inclusive, one price, including all the wine you could drink. ALL THE WINE YOU COULD DRINK. To someone living in Norway, this is not an offer, this is a dare. This is a life goal. This is nirvana.


So I drank. And drank. And drank. I vaguely remember the meal, something meat based. And then I drank some more. Sitting next to us at the restaurant were two nice guys, a little older than us (two years maybe, ok, but I still feel 23, so any guy who looks 40 to me is an older guy, I know I KNOW I'll grow up some day). They genially watched us drink our way through carafes and carafes of red wine. We chatted with them and found out they were pilots for Fedex. Nice guys. All of us were married except Karen, so it was not a pick up sort of situation, more like some Americans just saying hi in a foreign place. I got a definite "nice guy" vibe from them.

Anyhow, they said they knew a bar around the corner that was nice and would we care to join them for a drink. Yeah, like I hadn't heard THAT line before, but being drunk, and there being two of us, so we felt a bit safe, we said "Yeah, sure". So we went to a bar to have some more wine. I had an inkling that maybe I was three sheets to the wind when, on the way, I totally racked myself on one of those iron posts that they imbed in the sidewalks to keep cars off them? I learned that a) those things are exactly crotch height when you are almost 6 feet tall and b) girls can, in fact, nut themselves severely in the jumblies. OW.

Anyhow, drunk as I was I realized fairly soon that maybe it was time to get back to the hotel. I was shutting down and losing the ability to be charming (if I ever had it). I was a bit worried, also, about how to get the guys to not follow us or whatever. I mean, they had a very polite vibe but you never know.

Turns out, my impressions of people are pretty right on. And that my belief in the inherent goodness of people is always reinforced.

The two guys from FedEx were, in fact, born again Christians and were only walking us back to the hotel to make sure we were ok! There was brief talk of soul saving, but I think even they realized that might be a discussion wasted on two women who, at that point, were high-fiving each other for managing to get one foot in front of the other and snorting in laughter when one said the word "tree" and the other thought she said "pee".

We made it home safe and sound. The hangover the next morning, however, was definitely punishment from whatever God we had refused to have save us the night before, and his vengeance was severe.

That next day was also memorable because when we were walking around Montmartre and the Sacre Couer, a freak thunderstorm occurred and I saw a huge bolt of lightning hit the church steeple. Then there was a fierce hailstorm and everyone ran for cover under awnings and whatever we could find. The hail was marble sized and larger. And it was COLD. And WINDY. I was expecting frogs at any minute.

So, twice I've been to Paris, twice I've gotten way to drunk for my own good and twice freak wind storms have hit while I was there.

I really wonder if I should warn them before I come this time? Seems prudent.

things that happened Saturday night

My dress was a success. Though, I must admit, breasts tend to be an instant attention getter, both from guys (**eyes pop**) and women ("Wow what a dress! Aren't you cold?").

The hotel was quite cold, I never really warmed up all night. But then, what the hell was I thinking, basically wearing a silk slip in 20 degree weather in Norway?

Everyone looked very nice...I was impressed with the variety of lovely dresses and the men were all dashing.

The dinner was really tasty. I had scallops for the first time, and decided I like them.

The dessert was creme brule, and I had to fight Hannah for Mary's unwanted portion, but she was nice enough to offer to share it with me as a compromise so we did not have to stick forks in each other's necks. Hannah really likes creme brule, so I sort of think she would have taken my ass down had we not decided to share......

We were seated in the back of the dining room...by the kitchen. I think our reputation had preceded us and they stuck us loud rowdies at the back . We were actually quite well behaved. For us.

I did not trip over my dress once. I was very proud.

I spilled a full glass of red wine all over me. Miraculously enough, it did not stain my dress, in fact it did not even show up on the dress. Which is really strange as it's red and black on a white background, and made out of silk. Oddly enough, the wine DID stain my underwear all to hell. I'm thinking that this dress is the perfect one for me...indestructible, comfortable, no bra necessary and versatile. Thank you Roberto Cavalli.

Mary broke her wrist on the dance floor. As far as I know, no one saw her do it.

I was pretty drunk, but not horribly so. I have a natural cut off ,where, when I start to feel a certain way, my body just WILL NOT accept any more to drink. I just can't do it. I don't know if it's a natural defense or yet another manifestation of my fairly moderate (as in, non-addictive) nature, but I rarely get so drunk I don't still have command over myself. In fact, as I like to say, I never do anything drunk I would not do sober, I just do it louder, better or with more fervor.

I had lots of fervor on Saturday night.

I had less fervor on Sunday.

And today? Today as I was gathering my vitamins this morning, an Omega 3 oil pill sort of broke and got fish oil all over my hand. Can I just tell you how absolutely HORRIBLE that smells? Oh my God, it's like dead fish that's been dead for three weeks, mixed with ass and grease and a bit of fish shit. And it's oily and it won't wash off. There's a hint of skunk there too. I have washed my hands about 700 times today and the smell did not go away until I chopped garlic for tonight's dinner. So now the fish stink is mitigated, but at the price of an eau d' garlic.

Agh.....

Auntie Em Auntie Em It's a twister!

Jeez, y'all. We are having a windstorm and no lie. It snowed yesterday. A bit wet floppy snow. Now the wind is howling and the result of fast hard wind on snow is that the snow gets shaved down and compacted into...ice. We've got wind gusts up to 60mph! Probably it's a good thing it's winter and the trees don't have leaves and there is not much stuff left outside to blow around, otherwise there would be alot more damage than we are getting.

Joy.

What is also interesting is that the weather here has been oddly paralleling the weather in the States lately....at least, the Texas part of the States. Because El Nino? Affects the weather in Norway as well. It's all jet stream related. So y'all have been having a warm winter, as have we. And now you get an ice storm? Yep, check. In fact, this week it will be colder in Austin than it is here.

Welcome to Winter!

We've had a busy weekend. Friday we went to the pub for a beer, which in my case ended up being, like, 8, and then I decided to introduce some newbie Americans visiting here to aquavit. Even *I* knew that was a bad idea.
Anyhow, Rich ended up leaving the bar because he was tired and I sort of partied on for a while. I'd never been there without him and was curious what the "nightlife" at the bar is like late at night. (It's a fairly popular late night spot though I could never figure out why.) So I hung around with some friends who also were staying later and then I learned why the bar is popular: TOTAL pick up joint. Very flattering for the old ego, lemme tell you, as, being an old married lady, getting hit on in bars does not happen to me much because I'm usually with the man. And nothing dampens the ardor of someone trying to hit on you than a 6'7" husband glaring at them in a definite "buggger off" sort of way. But, it seems from my two experiences in bars this year when by myself (in London in August and on Friday) that I still have got something that is pick-upable. So, that made me feel good. I told the husband all about it and I don't think he is going to let me be at the bar without him anymore......

Then last night we went to Hanna's house for a drinks and games night. To say I was off my game is an understatement. Oy. My brain just would NOT work. So I was unfortunately not the life of the party. We had a nice time, even with my slug self. There was a lovely fire and good conversation. We girls DID kick some boy ass playing Pictionary, I swear we were almost psychic with the guessing and the communication. And it snowed on the way home, which was nice as it covered the ice and made walking alot easier. And it was beautiful, too. Never forget the beauty.

Today I am going to make some soup, recreating a recipe we had in Tallinn for vegetable soup with tiny little meatballs in it. Rich is watching some sci fi movie or other and I am about to curl back up with my book.

The wind still howls and pounds on the windows.

Beer

Some pictures of beer drinking in Tallin...........

At the Beer House.

Big glass of yum.

Can I have this to go, please?

Beer as big as yo' face.

And Ye Olde Crapper....for when ye've had too much o' the brew.

The Irish made me do it

Damn those Irish. They made me sing karaoke last night.

The people who live across the hall from us, she's Irish, he's Norwegian. Her family was visiting from Ireland (mother father brother and sister in law), and they were having a NYE party. With karaoke. We all know my feelings about karaoke...it's one of those no no's I always swear I won't do. Actually, though, it was pretty good karaoke, through a Playstation, so it was the original music and with the original video and you sang along with the singer, which totally helps you stay on target. AND it also scored you and you could competitively sing against another person. And it was 80's music. Which I like. Duh.....

Let's just say, this girl can sing a raunchy Roxanne. More a la "Moulin Rouge" than the Sting version. I made the Irish dance and holler, and was referred to as a "super star" and also as a "prime article". I think that last one is good.

It was fun. We blended our little NYE gathering with theirs and it became a good ol' drunk fest. We drank ALOT of champagne (some of which we bought in Tallinn, on another night when we were drunk, which explains why that one bottle of champagne was SO DAMNED expensive.....though it seemed reasonable at the time. It WAS good, though.) The fireworks were really wonderful, especially considering it was raining, sleeting and foggy. We ice skated on the deck for a bit in our shoes. Hey, we were drunk and it seemed a good idea at the time.

For our party I managed to pull together a fairly decent spread of munchies. This is made more impressive, to me, by the fact that we had not done any grocery shopping since before Christmas and no shops were open when we got back from Tallinn yesterday afternoon, so I basically had to create a party spread from whatever I had on hand. This turned out to be hummous with "toast points" (ok, so it was slightly stale bread that I toasted the hell out of in the oven), cheese cubes (diced cheese from the Gouda and other cheeses we had on hand), a 7 layer dip, variety of chips and nuts and chocolates and stuff, plus a fruit salad brought by Martin and Aime and a yummy plate of onion bahjis and chicken wings brought by Will and Mary. Plus Grant brought me a pint o' wee heavy from Scotland that I did not share with anyone and some amazing whiskey fudge, plus some Dalwhinnie scotch for Rich. It's always a good idea to be friends with someone from Scotland if you like Scotch whiskey or beer. The relationship is beneficial.

This morning there was the inevitable exchange of switched wine glasses from our neighbor's flat to ours, a gathering of misplaced clothing (jackets, sweaters, shoes, etc.) and a cheesy eggy bacony breakfast served to our two overnight guests, Martin and his daughter Aime, who, since the party was still going at 3am, decided to just crash here rather than face the cab ride home. They are brave souls, as we don't actually have guest facilities and so one got the floor and the other got the sofa. But at 3:30 am, who really cares WHERE they sleep as long as they do so......Aime and Martin left around 1pm.

It's now 2:30 and we are still in our jammies and have no intentions of changing out of them.

I'm recharging camera batteries, then will offload my pics from Tallinn and try to post some here today, the internet willing. It's been slow all day.....

3 days drunk...how're you?

Woo! I like Tallinn! I've done nothing but drink, eat and walk for three days. Woo! I'm fat, happy and have muscular calves.

So yesterday we found this cool little wine shop in a 14th century building. The owner was a fairly young guy whose "hobby" was wine, so he opened a wine shop. He had a couple of tables in there, wedged into this tiny shop filled with shelf upon shelf of wine, and offered wines by the glass. He also offered great conversation. What a charmer! We had a few glasses of vino each, and ended up talking to him for a couple hours. He also gave us some rather large samples of champagne..yum! We bought some bottles of it from him....I would always rather buy from a person who not only enjoys what they sell but also enjoys people. If you ever go to Tallinn, go to In Vino Veritas, and have a glass of wine and a chat with Michael, the owner. You won't be disappointed.

After that we had dinner reservations at an Italian place called Controvento. It was in a 14th century warehouse. (Notice a trend?) OHMYFUGGINGGOD I had the best steak I have ever had there. A really nice filet in a mushroom sauce...holy crap it was good. Washed it down with more wine. Yummy yummy wine...numm.....

So today it was a bit hard getting up, but we managed. We went first to the Kadriog park, where there is a palace built by Peter the Great for his mistress, a slave of war who got traded around as war booty until she ended up married to him and crowned as Queen Katherine. The palace there was not too large, rather cozy and lovely, and had a great collection of art from countries other than Estonia. Some nice Dutch artists and a decent collection of portraits. We wandered around the park briefly but it was too cold, so we headed back into town for...you guessed it...more food and drink. This time courtesy of the Olde Hansa, a medieval theme restaurant in a 14th century warehouse that is the be all and end all of tourist places, but actually manages to be authentic, charming, tasty and fun. The decor is phenomenal, the toilets were a hoot (I took pics, but you have to wait as I can't upload from this computer) the food was good and the whole place was lit by candlelight only. Gorgeous. For the boys, there's comely wenches galore, for the girls, there's boys in tights....what's not to love?

Tallinn is seriously one of the most gorgeous olde worlde townes I have ever seen...and did I mention the beer and the food?

Two local beers are widely available: Saku and A le Coq. They both have a good variety of flavors, my favorite always being the darker versions. At this one pub we went to, Hell Hunt, they also have a great selection of beers from Europe, all the ones I like including the Czech ones (Krusovice), Belgian wheat beers (Hooegarden) and similar yumminess. None go for more than $4 a pint.

There are lots of other good pubs, too....and believe me we hit as many as we could.

MMM......mmm...yummm.....weeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Northern lights...no. Aquavit? Hell yeah.

So...bad news....I didn't see the northern lights. Nota hint, not a sign, not a mere wisp. Nada, nuthin. It was a clear and cold night, but there weren't nuthin' happening of a magnetic, light show, freaky sort of nature. I checked. Muchly.

Damn.

I DID, however, get to join in on a true, real, honest to God traditional Norwegian Julebord, and it was an awful lot of fun.

Our building's yearly Julebord is a joint effort, coordinated by the building committee and joined in by the whole residency. We all sign up for something to bring and gather at one person's flat for pre-drinks and another for the dinner. So we had martinis at this one woman's flat (gin! Ack! I haven't had gin since 1989...it hurt me badly) as an apertif and hung out there for an hour, then up to the other flat (our neighbors across the way) for the dinner.

If you didn't know already, when Norwegians gather for a party, they PARTY. So after the gin (ACK!) we had wine, beer, aquavit and cognac. Oh, yeah, and for food? Let's see...there was pinekjott, sausage, sausage, mashed turnips (yum! my first time and they were good!), potatoes, and some other stuff. I brought a dessert, chocolate cake from a very traditional Southern American recipe. I think it confused everyone by its very chocolatyness (and the pound of butter it calls for) but they all ate it and seemed to like it. Hey, it's chocolate, not many people turn down warm gooey chocolate.....

The closest I can describe pinekjott is lamb spareribs. It's a very traditional Norwegian holiday fare, and pretty good. Thankfully, lutefisk was not on the menu....I smelled it once and know I could not ever eat it. There are some traditional Norwegian foods that I am pretty sure you just have to grow up with in order to like...luckily pinekjott is not one of them.

Anyhow we chowed on the food and our host poured me generous amounts of aquavit, which, luckily I also like. I generally tend to like any herb liquor...ramazotti, aquavit, slivovice, schnapps,etc. You are supposed to drink aquavit with most traditional Norwegian meals, as the food is fairly heavy and can be greasy, so the liquor is supposed to cut the grease and help your tummy along. In the old days it also protected against food poisoning by killing any bad germs. The Aquavit went down easily, as did the wine and the beer.

Everyone there was very nice about using English when they thought we might need a little extra help, but I acquitted my self fairly well with my Norwegian, even joining in some word games and such. Rich did well, too, and managed to use the one word he knows well, "Takk!" as his word in the alphabetical word game, getting a big laugh at his short, yet precise answer.

In between all this hilarity, I did manage to drink some water and take a few breaks with the booze, and so am proud to say I am not hurting much today. It might get me a little later (I get delayed onset hangovers now, they hit around 2pm) but I think i've escaped it for the most part.

So, I may have missed out on the northern lights, but it does not mean I had a dark night, by any stretch of the imagination.

SKOL!

post beer day two blog post

Two nights out down, one to go. last night and tonight are the biggies...last night was Austin Blog Babes gathering and then to the Carousel for the Dentones. Tonight is Mag's Drunken Karaoke Birthday fest (yes dear, you ARE NOW 37...face it).

I'm still scared by my alcohol overload of the other weekend. I mean, seriously, it has me looking at alcohol with leary eye and a doubting mind.

Anyhow, I started off pretty slow at Opal's last night, as the blogging gals got together and talked gal stuff. (Note, I was the ONLY one there that was not a mother, though, bless them all, they never ever make me feel less of a person or even that i am missing out on something. They are all just glad to escape the kids for a night, and i am glad to be there with them and maybe, just a teensy bit, be that bad influence friennd, the one who says things like "Oh just ONE more beer can't hurt". I just don't have to much to add to the mix in terms of discussions of baby poop viscocity, texture, color or smell....and that's kind of ok in my mind. I could talk about my own, I suppose, but grown up poop is no where NEAR as interesting as baby poop.) Anyhow, we talked. We laughed. We sorority girl screamed (you know...OHMYGAWD!). Badger looked particularly fetching in her tight jeans tucked into stiletto boots. Girlfriend, you gots a mighty cute ass.

AFter that on to see the Dentones at the Carousel. Everyone should go to a place like the Carousel once in their lives. It's Austin funky supreme. The entire decor is based on a Carousel, with animals and circus themes all around. There is a giant elephant painted directly behind the stage, with a 3d snout. They don't do mixed drinks but you can get a set up there and byob. Beer is cheap. And they have Stella, the dancing barmaid, who's been there for like 50 years but still gets her groove on with the bands. She's awesome.

The band played the P-furs "I'll Melt with You" (though they are not a cover band) so all us gals got up and did our 80's dances. I am rather proficient at the Molly Ringwald myself.

We all got hit on at the Carousel by a young Puerto Rican guy named, of all things, Egil. Yes, a Norwegian name for a Puerto Rican with a Spanish father. Anyhow, he was all over each of us in turn, but in a funny way, not a handsy way, and we all kind of fucked with him and told him we were like, 46 years old. Karla May embellished with tales of boob lifts, face lifts and knee replacements given her by her rich asshole exhusband, who left her anyways for a 23 year old floozy bitch who shall remain nameless (maybe because we were all laughing so hard she couldn't think up a name). One friend (Kristen) told him she was 50, and he was all "DAMN! Jou look GOOOd for feefty". Jes, Jes she do look good for feefty......He told me I had "byooteeful leeeps" and that I am a "beyooteeful ladeee with a beeyooteeful spirit". Thanks dude!

I managed to remain fairly hurt-bucket free, thanks to judicious beer monitoring and lots of water in between times. I spent the night at Karla May's and we had some very intense discussions of various things (damn she's amazing, how'd I luck out in getting her for a ffriend?) and then we pigged OUT on Mexican food for lunch.

Tonight I will muster up courage and cleavage for the Karaoke extravaganza, but you can pretty much bet on it this gal AIN'T singing.....

The reunion and curtain demolition, plus a scheduling clusterfuck

I spent the day today removing absolutely heinous curtains from my brother's new house. I mean, he had HUGE poofy curtains in shades of pink and green billowing all over his house....a remnant from the over decorated 80's. It took me two hours and a power drill to remove them, but those light sucking dustbags are now GONE and his house already looks lighter. Score one for the girl addicted to light.

Why was I in Houston today instead of Austin, you ask? Why, because there was a fuck up with Rich's flight and he got rescheduled for tomorrow, which he found out only after I had dropped him off and was on the way to Austin and he called me in a panic......then, we found out that his flight tomorrow is NOT at the same time as it should have been today, but over an hour earlier.....and they never told us, we just sort of found out by accident, when he checked on line. Uh..Continental? Maybe you could let us know when you make flights earlier? Thanks.

So, the reunion. It was fun. What I remember of it. Anne and Nick (Anne I have known since 7th grade and Nick is her husband, I was a bridesmaid at their Big Fat Greek Wedding) got a room at the hotel so we met up in their room for a pre-reunion drinky. Nick handed me a 'something with vodka', and for the rest of the night I was not without a 'something with vodka' in my hand at all times. And vodka, for me, goes down smooth and gives me a pleasant, not overwhelming buzz.

So I was a happy girl at the reunion. It was pretty much has I expected...a bunch of people that I never spent much time with in high school mixed in with some that I had known since kindergarten, a few early life crushes, and some I didn't recognize at all. Anne looked exactly the same, people tell me I do too, and a few other gals looked the same as well. Alot of the guys looked well, middle aged. It was strange. I felt a bit disjointed, all told.

But I was also pretty drunk. Anne and I ended up arm wrestling. That bitch is STRONG. She beat me, but I had an arm cramp. She's so toast next time we arm wrestle. I'm doing a Rocky and getting in shape. It's funny how I only get to see her, like, once or twice a yearr, but it's like we just saw each other yesterday.......we just GET each other. And Nick is the consummate good guy and perfect host.

Anyhow, after the reunion Nick got us a stretch limo (can you believe I had never been in one?) and we went to their club in the Montrose area and danced to a band called Molly and The Ringwalds....they were an awesome 80's band. After a bit of craziness there we then went to their other bar downtown.....and I think I felt up the bartender. (Long story, but she has nice boobs, you really could not tell they weren't real.) Anne told me she hired her in large part because her feet reminded Anne of mine. I mean, really, a friend who remembers your feet and hires people based on similarities therein is a friend you should keep. Goofy and hilarious.......

Rich didn't come with us to the bar because he was too drunk and too tired. He stayed in the room and listened to Johnny Cash and got emotional. Never ever listen to Cash when drunk. It'll get you. Heed my warning.

Next morning? Oh my GOD. I wanted to die. Death would have been too good. I hurled ALL DAY. I could not eat. And every time I tried to take an Advil or something, I would hurl it up, so t he headache never went away either. We went for Mexican food, which I had been craving for weeks...and I could not eat a bite. I was SO annoyed. I could only watch and try not to make gagging noises.

Yesterday was a wash for me.....so I am really glad that Rich had an extra (mistaken) day here. so I could be a real person and we could have some time together before he went back to Norway.

Ok so we are now gonna go have some bbq......something for Rich to rememebr when he goes back.......

post reunion

Ow.

(grrgg...barf.....grrraarggg)

Ow.


(baaaaarrffff....retch....hurl)

Ow.

........OW.

pictures from Ephesus.

Last Monday I got up REALLY early and caught a 6:30 am flight to Izmir, from where I got picked up and taken to see the ruins at Ephesus.

They were cool. Here's some photos, with commentary underneath.

Ephesus was one of the biggest cities in the world in the first century AD. The amphitheatre seated 25,000. The accoustics are still perfect. Two French guys started singing way down in the pit, there, while I was up top and I could almost hear them breathing between verses. And the view..oh the view. The harbor used to come up to the end of the road, in the distance, there. See it? And there were shops and stuff all along the road. I could really see how bustling and amazing it once was.

Winged Nike. Yeah, THE Nike that inspired the shoes. Apparently you get a hint of the swoosh in her robes. See it, just barely, under her right wing? Swoosh.

The tourist highway. The place was packed. But we all fit pretty well. It must have been an amazing city. There is a covered museum that protects the remains of some terraced houses. The painted walls and mosaiced floors were exquisite. They had hot and cold running water. Gorgeous.

A view down towards the library. You can see the harbor area in the distance. The amphitheatre was around the the hill, you'd go towards the library and then right, along the tourist highway.

The remains of the library. It must have been an awesome building. The detail work was incredible. I had problems getting pictures because there was a large group of very loud Americans who kept taking group shot after group shot right in front, and always dicking around with their overly advanced digital cameras. Is it only me who's noticed, or has the digital comaera totally slowed down the picture taking process? I used to be polite and wait for folks to take their pictures, but it takes so damned long now, I've stopped waiting. You get three to five seconds and then I am walking on. Sorry, but if your camera takes that long to take a photo, you need to get a disposable and hurry it along.

View from below the amphiteatre. To my right and behind was the road to the harbor.

Me posing on the latrines. Ephesus has some of the few remaining latrines from the Greek times. They were very advanced, apparently, in their plumbing. The latrines sat above a stream that washed all the ick away. The more important people got to sit on the holes that were at the beginning of the stream, I believe, so that they did not have to smell the offal of others. It was a communal thing, for men only, of course. They had musicians entertaining them while they crapped. Women apparently had to go climb a hill and squat behind a bush. Hmph.

Sign advertising the modern day toilets. This sign cracked me up. It was for the toilets on the way out of Ephesus. I did indeed feel the magic atmostphere, though it cost me 75 cents, not 50. I didn't really notice 25 cents more magic atmosphere. No music or lute players or anything. They did have toilet paper and soap, though, so that was pretty magical compared to some places I had seen. AND they had sit down style western toilets, not those stand up kind like alot of places.

I spent the night in Selcuk, which was not far from Ephesus at all. From there I could walk to the Temple of Artemis (one of the 7 wonders of the ancient world, of which almost nothing is left), St. John's Basilica, the Virgin Mary's House and some other sites.

In Selcuk I also learned the Turkish wine is pretty tasty when you drink it, but it will definitely hurt you the next day. I spent the evening hanging out with some folks at Jimmy's GuestHouse, where the very charming and darkly handsome Jimmy (Scorpio...always Scorpios) plied us with Turkish wine. The folks at the table included a cute 20 year old Aussie named Kate, a guy named Daniel from LA whose dad was the drummer for the band Little Feat, a contemplative guy named Ben from Atlanta who grew out his beard and was doing the wandering backpacker thing like a pro, and a guy from Austin who I ended up having mutual friends with back home. (Never fails, does it?) That's the thing about Austin...it's a small town with far reaching tentacles. We all talked about the blues, bars, beer, how we all hated Bush (president, not band) and how we all loved Turkish food. It was a very memorable night. My favorite thing about travel is the people I meet and the conversations I experience.

I got up that day at 4am and didn't get to bed until after 1 am. I packed alot into those 21 hours, and I crashed HARD.

Wheee!

CrankyButt Jones is dee-runk. (Quit laughing, Kjersti.)

It's twoo...once you stop drinking? And then you drink? After a long stressful day? You get dwunk qwicker.

Weeeeee!

Oh, bugga

Which, in Yorkshire terms, is really pronounced "Oh, booga". With a sort of a poofty "b" sound, a bit like a small horse snort. At least, that's what they got me to try to do. Maybe they just wanted to laugh at the Texan saying bogger with a horse snort.

Anyhow, oh booga, I'm home. Back at work today. Hard getting back into the swing.

I really had a great time on this trip. I may be a bit unusual (and this is absolutley NOTHING against my husband or any of my traveling buddies) but every so often I just like to take a trip by myself. It's my way of testing my boundaries, seeing what I can do alone, what I am brave enough to try, what seems uncomfortable alone. I always meet the most interesting people when I travel solo. I'm not sure if it's because as a woman I am non-threatening and folks talk to me, if I leave myself just the slightest bit open to talking or what, but I always meet neat people when I travel solo. Also, and Rich and I talked about this, he's rather large, thus kind of fobidding and it's actually harder to meet the locals as a couple. When you are alone, folks tend to find you more approachable.

So far I have not found much that is not fun alone. OK, so dinner is a bit wierd, but you make sure have a book and find a place with a nice female waiter, and she usually gives you a bit of extra kindness. But I rather enjoy eating alone. Especially, in London, on Gerard Street in Chinatown, it meant I got all the crispy duck to myself and did not have to share. Teehee. (And Rich and Colleen: nyah nyah.)

Though, too, I was also a FREAK MAGNET, but this comes with the territory, I guess. I was actually wondering if they passed a secret law in London which makes it illegal to be alone as a woman, and all men must try and talk to you at every opportunity. It started on the train in from Heathrow and just kept going. Walking to the hotel. On the train. In a shop. I mean, really, at one point on Gerard Street I had to HIDE from a guy who would NOT leave me alone, even when I gave him my fool-proof "I'm German and don't speak English" routine. Bugger, that bastard spoke flawless German as well. And I don't. So I turned a corner and hid. After saying, in my best German, "I want to be alone", which was very Garbo of me, even if I am quite sure he saw straight through my German pretending. Bastard. Fook OFF already.

On Monday night I got seriously ballsy and went to the Intrepid Fox. (And by the way: FUCK! I just found an article dated Aug. 26th that it will be closing, so I guess I am doubly glad I went in.) If there is one pub that looks threatening to go into by yourself, that one would be it. It's a metalhead goth pub. I've always wanted to go. Always. And so I wore my little leather jacket (it has ruffles, but it's black with string ties that close it, so it passed for sort of pirate-goth) and made my way in for a Guinness. And promptly got hit on by two guys from India, speaking Hindi to each other but English to me, asking me if I was a rock star (hahaha!!! I mean, seriously, HA!). One was wearing dress pants and shirt, but had on a leather spiked wristband, so obviously he had changed his outfit for the evening to reflect his alternativeness. The other asked me for a light. I'm not smoking...no matches....uh, no? No light. Sorry dude. Might wanna work on your pick up lines to actually reflect real life. But, by then I was done with my beer, and so decided to call it an evening. I was just proud of myself that I went into the Intrepid Fox solo. Making me, an Intrepid Karla. So I left the pub happy. Was going to buy the t-shirt, but the back of it said "Rock N Fuckin' Roll" and I don't know about you but while I might curse alot? I don't WEAR curse words.

So, Lonely Planet? Pilot Guides? Any of the travel shows on the Travel Channel or Discovery? I am definitely your next TV travel presenter. I'll talk to anyone, go anywhere and do anything but eat bugs.......

traveling alone

Hello. I'm making a quick post from London. I have 10 minutes left on this internet card.

I am having a GREAT time. Sometimes taking a trip on your own is refreshing. No pressure, no one else to think about and you can just wander at will.

Which is what i have been doing. I've done some historic walks and today I treated myself to lunch at the Portrait Cafe on top of the Nat'l Portrait Gallery with the best views I think I've ever seen of London and amazing food. I wet to a pub with just me and a book and was invited by a bunch of big burly rugby boys from Yorkshire to join them for a drink (they were offended by my drinking and reading alone in a pub and took my book away) and now I am an honorary Texas Yorkshire girl, who can't quite say 'bugger' correctly but has learned say a mean 'fook off'. What a fun bunch of guys, like 8 big brothers. And I do mean big. Total sweethearts all of them, all on a bank holiday weekend away from their wives, who kept texting them, to their frustration. All that texting kept them away from their Guinnesses, you see. It's hard to text and drink.....

On the way home from the pub I got caught in a sudden rainstorm and played 'Singin' In the Rain'. Ok, so I was a bit tipsy.....

Yesterday I spent at my aunt and uncle's and they cooked me an Indian dinner (well, he did, it's his specialty) and me and my aunt went shopping to this great outlet place. Wonderful. Coming back from their place on the east side I was on the Tube about 9pm listening to my iPod and I swear I felt like I was at a convention of urban hipsters. Everyone else on the train were on their way into London to go clubbing. We ALL had on iPods and everyone was nodding their heads to their music. It was hilarious, and I really felt a part of the night time scene.... Not, of course, that I have any idea where the cool clubs are, but I sure felt like I was already IN one on that Tube ride. Everyone dressed to the nines, including one boy in the latest trends who looked EXACTLY like a gay friend of mine in high school, and dressed like him too. Skinny skinny jeans, pointy shoes, pearls, a vest over a striped long sleeve ts shirt, spiky mullet hair cut...it was totally 1984...I loved it.

Tomorrow i hope to see the inside of Kensington Palace. And do a bit of shopping.....though I don't really need anything.

I fooking love London.

Hi! I'm D. Runk.

Woo!

I had a couple of girlfriends over for dinner tonight and I am D. Runk.

Nice to meet you.

Woo!

Can you believe they had never heard Nine Inch Nails' "Closer To God"? Like, one of my top 5 favorite songs of all time? Well, of course I had to play that song for them with an itnerpretive belly dance. So we all interpreted that song with bellies. Dancing. Me and Mary are in the belly dance class together, and Lesley was the audience.

Goth Industrial Belly Dance. I totally think we've started a trend. I can see it now, wearing all black and shimmying to Trent Reznor. hey, it works. Try it. Sort of raunchy, but it works.

hey! My headache is gone!

Woo!

I have a feeling it will be back tomorrow. 3 girls + 4 bottles of wine = headache in the morning.
But right now I feel awful good. The girls left to go home, but I think my superpower ("Getting People DRunk Girl") prevails and Lesley was three sheets to the wind and on the way to Barfville. I feel a little bad about that, but my powers are strong.......there is no denying them.

Now i get to clean up the kitchen. Rob Zombie is good kitchen cleanign music. No, i have no idea what I am saying, either. I'm drunk, remember?

So, like, is typing really hard for you when you are drunk too? Dude, this is tough....

I will probably regret this tomorrow...in more ways than one.