If you're looking for the funniest stuff, I suggest starting with the Steve, Don't Eat It Homage and then the travel category. You're on your own with the older posts that have yet to be categorized.

Friday, September 29, 2006

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Rock Me, Amadeus

In Haarlem, Netherlands, I stayed at the Hotel Amadeus. I had/was getting over a cold the whole time so, although I thought it sucked, it might have seemed worse than it was. Here you can see the size (and number) of the steps to get to the rooms on the first floor. There were also rooms another flight up.
The mirror in the bathroom. Great height for me (notice me in the reflection) and recall I'm 6'6".And speaking of height, if you can see yourself in the mirror, you better duck when you use the toilet. The toilet is a bit weird as a #2 just lays on the porcelain. I tried using the thing sitting the other way but that didn't work right. When you flush, a Niagara of water tries its best to sweep things away, resembling a class 5 rapids pouring over a boulder...or a tree trunk, depending on what you've been eating.
Notice that my toothpaste is on the edge of the sink and not the shelf above. That's because the shelf was too flimsy to hold a tube of toothpaste.

On the good side, the bed is very comfortable and breakfast was decent. Also, the shower spigot was adjustable to Manute Bol heights.

There's more bad, the view (an air column), the air conditioner (right outside the window for cooling some other place; all the noise and none of the cooling!), the windows (giants but one was a time bomb if left open it would, after a random amount of time, slam closed and wake the dead), the covey of pigeons that roosted outside the window (coo coo, yourself), the noise of the market place stalls being built at 4am, the 13" TV (not viewable from the bed, with a dead remote).

But again, I was sick, so maybe it's just me.

I Feel For Uwe

One of the chocolate treats I brought back from Germany was a tin of Scho-Ka-Kola. This is dark chocolate, coffee and cola. I believe it was used during WWII to keep German soldiers alert (it contains .2% caffeine).

On their website (translated), it talks about how hysterical girls will faint at the sight of you and movie producers will offer you roles...or something along those lines.

From the untranslated page, I suggest you click on "Rekord anschauen und bewerten" as the video that comes up is quite hilarious (mute first if at work).

Explanation of Post Title if you need one: Although Uwe(a common German name) is pronounced oo-vah, it is a play on words of "I Feel For You" which is the name of Chaka Khan's most famous song (highlight to read)

Also, They're Better Typists

There was a recent very important study that showed that the ratio of the length of a woman's ring finger to her index finger is correlated to her "sporting potential" (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, know-what-I-mean).

I tried to verify this with my own study but most of the women I asked were not smart enough to take part. When I asked to measure the length of their ring and index fingers, they would instead hold out only their middle fingers. Idiots.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

I Believe In Dog!

Holy crap!

I bring thee good tidings...about once a day, in the middle of the living room.

Go with God.

(Thanks Zimbo!)

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

More Fun With Wörter

Well, what would you think if you saw this sign? Urologist office?

I looked up the words in a German-English dictionary to find uhren means clocks (or maybe watches) and schmuck means jewelry. Jewelry!

Now, anybody reading this probably knows that the schmuck is Yiddish for penis. Since Yiddish is mostly derived from German and mostly spoken by Jews, it follows that Jews must think of the penis as a piece of jewelry.

Interestingly, a recent survey found that, of different groups, Jewish women were least likely to have their tongues pierced. The reason given was that Jewish women do not put jewelry in their mouths.

Thank you. I be hyah all da week.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Length Of My Thigh Minus 1" = Seat Room In Coach

My flights back today were from Duesseldorf to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to Newark. I didn't pay much attention earlier but after I got my boarding cards I noticed the first leg boarded at 10:55 while the second leg boarded at 11:55. Checking my itinerary, I noted only a 45 minute layover.
The first flight was delayed when someone checked-in but did not board the plane. This means going through the cargo hold to find their luggage and get it off the plane. The pilot assured us that even with this delay we would make it to Frankfurt in time.

During the short 25 minute flight, the flight attendant made an announcement that passengers with connecting flights should check the board for connection information. Passengers connecting to flights in the US are urged to go directly to their gate as the security measures for these passengers take much longer. I checked my watch. My flight home had already started boarding and we weren't even on approach yet. At this point I figured I be going home Monday unless there was a later flight.

A few minutes later, another announcement: "Passengers connecting to flight ### to Newark, there will be a bus waiting to take you to the terminal." That sounded good. Must be half the plane going to Newark. They'll hold it for us.

We land right on time, 20 minutes after my other flight began boarding. As I head down the jetway I see a bus on the tarmac. It says Newark on it's electronic sign and it is right near the stairs connected to the back door of the plane. Was I supposed to exit from the rear of the plane? Did they only announce that in German? I ask an employee on the Jetway. He doesn't understand much English but is not about to let me back on the plane. He says something about "checking the sign" in the terminal. Well, I'll just find somebody else to help.

How about this guy holding the sign (in the terminal) that says "Newark Passengers". He has me wait a minute as the final passengers empty the plane. Then I and the rest of the Newark bound passengers are told to follow him. We both do.

He takes us out a security door and onto the tarmac. We get on the bus and we're off. It's amazing how much traffic there is on the tarmac. At one point we had to yield right-of-way to an Airbus 320. Right-of-way always seems to go to the biggest vehicle.

We must've driven a couple miles and we're let off at a door way. Up an escalator and we hit obstacle number 1, passport control. Our escort says something politely in German as he cuts us into the front of the line. Judging by it's length, probably a 20 minute savings.

Our escort is moving pretty quickly, dodging in and out and paying no attention to us. We almost lose him in a group of Asian tourists. We finally arrive at the security line. No metal detector just an Xray, maybe a sniffer in it too. This line looks to be well over an hour. We cut past everyone. Shoes off, laptops out, everything out of your pockets. "My hanky?" "Everything." I toss my dirty handkerchief in the bin with my wallet and change.

"Arms out please," comes the command. I look down and notice half my toe sticking out a hole in my socks. A sure sign of a shoe bomber, probably. I am then patted down. I haven't been this intimate with a man since my last prostate exam.

No time to tie my shoes, I am near running to the terminal. Untied shoes on an escalator seems like a really bad idea. But I make it. I hand over my boarding card and turn and yell "Danke schoen!" to my guide. I go down the jetway but there's no plane at the end; just stairs. Down the stairs and, ohhhkay, it's another bus. This one with quite a lot of people aboard. We sit for a few more minutes and a couple more people straggle on.

As we wait, the guy next to me is filling out one of those "next of kin" cards. I tell him not to bother. The box for dropping it into was at the top of the jetway and that the card would be going on the plane with him. "I hope it makes it OK," I joked but I don't think he got it.

Finally the bus drives away, first stopping about 200 feet away, right by a 747 but the doors don't open. At first I can't believe they made us get in a bus to go such a short distance. Then I can't believe they won't open the doors. Then I see that the 747 is being pushed away. As we drive away I realize that there are quite a few 747's at this airport. Ours is far from the terminal, out on the tarmac. Jet engine noises roar all around as a female German voice makes an announcement over the bus PA about which door on the plane to use, fore or aft, depending on your row. Well, that was the gist of the announcement. I only caught a few words and had no idea which door to use. I opted for the rare opportunity to use the rear door.

Thankfully I had taken my Meclizine because the flight was very bumpy the first hour or so and again with the last hour or so. We had a couple of those experiences where it feels like you just drop a thousand feet, when it was probably 10 or 20.

I totally dropped the ball on postcards, so my apologies and these blog entries in their place.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Cold Pudding

Cold update: All remnants are just about gone. I'm only coughing up what appears to be banana pudding. A few days ago it was lumpy beef gravy, then butterscotch pudding, then turkey gravy. Hmmm, I'm getting hungry.

I note all this as I lay in my room listening to some neighbor's wretching sounds reflect into my room. It started with a good chchchchchcht, ptoo. After several of these it has now morphed into actual wretching. Hhhhchchchchchrrrrrrllllp, ptoo. Ptoo. I hope it stops soon. I don't feel like getting up to close the windows.
It finally stopped. That was a good three minutes of hocking and wretching. It was making me nauseous.

Oh, wait. After a few minutes break they are back again for two final hocks. That's got to do it.

Sorry. I really thought that was it but after another couple minutes of break there was one more. I'd feel foolish predicting that to be the last one. I might have to miss my train waiting for more...

Thursday, September 21, 2006

For Bitte Or Wurst

Did you ever get kicked the head? With an iron boot?

No. Of course you haven't. Nobody has. That's a stupid question.

I have plenty of stories but not the time to tell them right now. I hope later to add some.

A tidbit: on the trip from Haarlem to Garmisch (10+ hours) I noticed this: The terrain from the train is mainly quite plain. (Stop groaning, I thought that was pretty snappy.)

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Wait'll We Get Our Hanes On You

Didn't I just say that might be last post for a while? Then here's a somewhat ironic post.

Last Friday Sara Lee (the cake people) spun off Hanesbrands (the underwear people). There was much celebrating.

Hanesbrands Inc.'s top executives and headquarters employees held a kind of corporate pep rally -- their second of the week -- Friday morning at the company's Winston-Salem headquarters. [...] [The Executive Chairman and CEO both] praised the work of employees and told them their efforts to strengthen the company's brands, optimize its supply chain and be innovative would be key to the company's success in the future.
Yesterday, Hanesbrands announced the closing of 3 factories and 2200 layoffs.

Unannounced was that the laid-off employees would have to exit the buildings through a 4 foot tall door. As employees leave, they will receive a Mini Dickmann, inserted directly into their rectum as symbol of top managements' regard for them.

Those nearing retirement age will receive the larger, Super Dickmann.

Where To Eat In Düsseldorf

This will be more of an informational post to help those travellers heading to Düsseldorf.

If you are looking for classic German food the previously mentioned Zum Schiffchen is the place.

If you get tired of pig knuckles, Schnitzel and Wurst, I heartily recommend Bim's Marktwirtschaft (don't look for the word Bim's, though, we didn't see it anywhere) which serves delicious Mediteranean-style food and, as a bonus, you can get English menus. Our server also translated the specials for us.

I had the gnocchi special which had long, skinny mushrooms and pumkin slices in a tasty sauce. It was delicious but too much to finish. My colleague had another special which was a large, nearly bocce ball size cut of pork covered in spinach and some kind of chopped nuts, all surrounded by a pastry crust. Similar to Beef Wellington except with pork instead of beef...and spinach/nuts instead of mushrooms...but these are minor trifles. It was surrounded on the plate with gnocchi in a Gorgonzola sauce. Spectacular! Bring a healthy appetite.

Despite our being full, we stopped of at Pia for Eis (ice cream). I don't know why but ice cream is ridiculously cheap here (the entire city). 50 Euro cents for a single scoop cone is normal. Try a double scoop for 1 Euro, Schokolade und Banane.

Don't know if I will have Internet access over the next week but if I do there will surely be posts. Auf wiedersehen.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006


True story, though I cannot reveal names or places.

A person I know very well (Person A) received an email from someone (Person B). Also copied on this email was Person A's manager (PHB). PHB considered the information useful to their entire department.

What happened next?

  1. PHB forwarded the email to their entire department.
  2. PHB rewrote the email before forwarding it in order to take credit for the idea.
  3. PHB sent an email to Person B asking them to forward the email to PHB's department.
Which boss do you have?

If I had to come up with one word to describe each of these bosses, I think I'd go with "reasonable" or maybe "rare" for #1. "Assh*le" or "weasel" goes with #2. I'm drawing a blank on a single word for #3.

The answer, by the way, is #3.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006


Since I'm on business for so long, I get to do laundry. Here's some sample prices for the hotel's laundry service (all in Euros) :

  • shirt 5.00
  • T-shirt 4.00
  • underpants 3.00
  • handkerchief 1.50
  • jeans 7.00
  • pair of socks 3.50
And I thought 17 Euros a day for Internet service was ridiculous. I don't care that my company would pay for this, I actually find these prices offensive. I asked where I am working about finding a laundromat. Well, that wasn't much help as he didn't even know the German word for laundromat. I eventually figured it out, found one using Google Maps and had scoped the place out Sunday when I ran.

If it's Tuesday, it must be laundry night. Before getting on the tram (the place was about a mile and a half away) I put my wallet and all my coins into a pocket that had a velcro closure so nothing would fall out. I got to the place without any issues.

The place was pretty full...of clothes. Not many people around though (it was a bit warm to hang out in the place). I set about deciphering the instructions.

All the machines were centrally controlled. You could also buy soap at this same central location...somehow. I waived a few people past me and tried to watch what they were doing but they were too fast. I stared vacantly at Central Control (CC). A big guy sitting nearby asked me something-in German, of course-and I asked if he spoke English.

"Yyyyyyessss," he replied in that distinctly German way. He explained how to operate the machines. Put your clothes and soap in first, select a cycle (he explained 3 of the 5 available as colors, lights and faster), close the door, go to the CC and insert your money (for one load, serving of soap, 10 minutes of drying, etc.) and press the number or letter of your machine. Then go back to your machine and press the starting button. Simple, ya?

While waiting, I found the cost of the advice was 30 minutes of talking with this guy about travel and such. Most Germans are not very talkative/open; maybe the term I'm looking for is warm. As a contrast I would pick Hawaiians as the other end of the spectrum. Anyway, some Germans (and even more ex-pats, I think) when they find someone who is willing to talk, seem to gorge themselves on conversation. For me, these people are like oasis in the desert.

Thirty minutes later my 2 loads (colors and lights) were done. Well, not quite. Seems I didn't put the soap in correctly and so the soap got stuck by the door until the final spin when it got all over my colors (lights were fine). I restarted the load, this time going for "faster" and put the lights in the drier for 20 then another 10 minutes.

By now, my helper friend had finished his laundry and headed home. I went to sit on a chair outside and read my book. Clink, clink, clink. Well now. After using the CC, I put the change in my pocket; my "not the pocket with the velcro" pocket. The chair I sat in was on top of a grate. Great. I believe I donated 3.50 to the whoever-fishes-money-out-of-the-grate-in-front-of-the-laundromat charity.

I guess I'll put this on my Expense Report as Werfischtgeldausdemrostvordemwaschsalonwohltätigkeit.

* - whoever fishes money out of the grate in front of the laundromat

Monday, September 11, 2006

A Night In The Life

We set off for dinner around 7:15 this evening. I had a few places marked on a crudely drawn map and we ended up at Im Füchschen. This was the same place I ate the "freshly slaughtered pig" the last time.

We had one Alt while trying to decipher the German menu. After another half an Alt I went and got the English menus from the waiter. Now, you'd think that after asking for menus, then asking again for English menus, that the waiter might have an inkling that you want food. After a total of about 40 minutes without getting our order taken, we paid our tab and left. I think Im Füchschen is pronounced, "I'm f*cked then" or there abouts.

We ended up at Zum Schiffchen. They had Frankenheim Alt, which is not as good as the Füchschen but the service actually existed. I order the grilled pig knuckle. I don't really know what this is but I'm guessing it's the knee. It is large, about the size of a Chiuaua...maybe bigger. It's a man's meal for sure. When I ordered it, the waiter gave me a knowing look...like I knew what I was doing.

Just as an aside, they had an appetizer that was something-schmaltz and bread. The English translation: lard with bread. I kid you not.

Anyway, I ate most of the pig thingy which came with sauerkraut and fried potatoes. Excellent and recommended for those with a hearty pig-eatin' appetite.

On the walk back to the tram, through an open window three floors up we heard, in a high pitched, German accented voice, "ooh, ooh.....ohh, ohh, ohh.....ay, ay, ohhhh....ay, ay, ay, ay...." and on and on.

I wondered if they had a mechanical bull in there.

Sunday, September 10, 2006


At the dragon boat (Dracheboot) regatta, one of the activities was mechanical bull riding. We watched for a while and maybe 6 adults tried it. In between, a bunch of kids did too but the host/operator knew that to get the laughs and the big crowds, you needed adults making fools of themselves. (Don't get ahead of me here.)

We were watching the proceedings from a shady spot behind the operator. He had just let two kids in a row go and knew he needed an adult. Preferably male. Preferably someone who stood out with obvious jokable qualities. As he scanned and cajoled the crowd he finally turned to me saying who-knows-what in German (probably something like "How about you scarecrow?") . I started emptying my pockets. He said something "sprecken?" and I assumed he had asked me if I spoke German. I replied "No sprecken" which is the only thing I said until I was on the bull. I decided later that he probably asked me a question first (maybe my name, like he asked everyone else) and when I said nothing he asked me "Do you speak?" And I dutifully replied "I don't speak."

On the bull, he spun me around, cracking jokes to the audience's delight. I guess he asked in English, where I was from and I tried to yell "the U.S." over my shoulder. He spun me back toward him and asked if I spoke English and when I said "yes" he asked if I was from South Africa. I repeated, "the U.S." And he joked "But not from Texas?" We started on level 2, to get the feel of things. Notice in the first picture how delighted the kids are to have a gangly American using up time on their bull.
OK. Level 2 wasn't bad. You need to stay on 16 seconds to advance to the next level. Except for the first person we saw (a woman who got past level 4) nobody had been passed level 3. And the guys that had gone were not scrawny like me...but looks can be deceiving...

Plus, look at the position. Right hand grasping firmly between the legs. Muscles tense. Total concentration. Like the geeky girl in Jurassic Park when she logs onto the Unix computer, I thought to myself, "I know this!" Check out that white-knuckle death grip I've got.

Notice the kids keenly studying my technique while other laugh derisively at the Magerjudencowboy.

Level 3 goes by and suddenly, things aren't so funny any more. Maybe Haarausfallmagerjudencowboy is for real. I even got that hand-in-the-air thing going.

At this point, the operator let me know that nobody had made it past level 5. If I could get past 4, I'd be in a tie for best of the idiots.

Cut to about 15 years ago. A few friends and I went to the local comedy club where two comedians performed. I don't recall either of their names. I don't recall anything about the second comedian at all but the first was a juggling comedian.

He started off juggling a few things and telling a few jokes. One of his first jokes was explaining how when he started juggling, his friends were impressed but quickly were asking him, "Can you do four balls?" He then explained that it took a few months to learn but he was finaly able to to do it.

His friends were again impressed but soon bored. "Can you do five?" they asked. He went on explaining how hard this was and how some guy (maybe the world record holder?) spent 8 hours a day, every day, practicing and eventually was able to juggle eleven rings at once. Still, this guy juggled 5 balls for a few seconds and it was pretty good. He went on juggling knives and axes and all sorts of things and then came the finale.

He brought out 3 bowling balls, hoisted them up and juggled them maybe 10 times. There was some applause. He came up to the mic to thank the audience when I screamed, "Can you do four?"

Personally, I found it hard to believe that nobody had yelled this before, but his less than snappy retort "Do you have one in your car?" told me otherwise.

Back to the present time.

By this point my right forearm had swelled to twice its normal size. The big question was, "Could I do 4?"

After about 6 seconds this was my position.
Alas, that's as far as things went. I did win a game for getting as far as I did. The only other person I saw get a game was the first woman.

Yahtzee anyone?

The Best And Wurst

Went to dinner the other night and sat at the bar. The guy behind the bar came over and I'm pretty sure asked what we wanted to drink. I said "Alt" as Alt is what you drink in Düsseldorf. The guy looked at me funny. "Alt" I repeated.
He questioned, "Oh, Alt?"
I relied, "Ya. Alt."
Finally it sunk in. The drink Alt is pronounced with the 'a' sounding like ah. I was pronouncing it like 'all' with an added 't' at the end. This made what I was saying sound more like "Halt!" I corrected myself and asked for, and received, an Alt.

To avoid further difficulties, I ordered pizza for dinner.

Went to Köln (Cologne) yesterday. It's big draw is the Dom, an enormous cathedral that survived WWII. Cathederals aren't my big thing but it is impressive in its ridiculous ornateness. I didn't go in but considered paying 60 Euro cents to pee near it.

Another nice thing about Köln is that their beer is Kölsh which is much easier to order. I especially liked the sign on one bar that read basically, buy 10 Kölsh, get 1 free! As an educational aside, this is also known as a meter of beer, since they serve 11 of the 0.2l glasses in a meter long board.

Instead I went and worshipped at the Schocolade Museum. They actually make chocolate at the museum. Here I snagged a picture of the Oompa Loompas doing their work. They give out free samples which were sugar wafers which they dipped in melted milk chocolate (I think they use milk chocolate because of the kids and because it's cheaper.) On my second sample trip (of three) I hit the jackpot when the OL gave me the last four chocolate coated wafers she had in her hand so she could dip some more for the large approaching group. Total take for the day, 6 chocolate covered wafers.

After leaving, we went to the museum cafe for more schocolade. Deciphering the menu, I was leaning toward Käsekuchen (cheesecake). I asked the waiter if it was Schocoladekäsekuchen and he looked at me like this was as crazy as ordering Alt. I was actually hoping they might have chocolate beer but if they can't even get past chocolate cheesecake... I ended up getting the chocolate torte (which was good) and a Kölsh. Mmmm. Chocolate cake and beer.

This morning I ran 7 miles and actually saw maybe 6 other people running. A couple of the runners were wearing shorts. All had jackets on (it was around 60 degrees by that time). Very odd.

They had some dragon boat races going on along with festival food, music and activities. We went for a while and watched, ate, listened and participated (more on that in another post). It dawned on me that the festival food was really no different than their regular food. Lots of worst, bread, potatoes and deep fried treats.

And what is the deal with the fries with mayonnaise? Flavor-wise I don't have a big issue with it but, geez, why not cut out the middleman and just make deep fried mayonnaise balls or something?

I tried the currywurst. Take one worst, cut up, sprinkle with curry powder and smother in brown sauce. Serve with a piece of bread. It was not too bad...until I dropped my bread (which was covered in sauce). My lightning quick reflexed saved it from the floor...by pinning it against my shorts. Anybody know how to get a curry stain out? I'll tell you, I thought it was impossible since I have some plastic utensils that used to be blue and are now green after cooking curry with them. Bleach couldn't change them but the hand soap at the hotel appears to have gotten the curry stain out.

Oh, by the way, the "brown sauce" in the curry worst? Ketchup!

And lastly, we ran across this place which sells "Jay's juices." Mercifully, they were closed.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Coming Soon: Vaginagirl!

There's nothing like a mini Dickmann. They're just the right size to put in your mouth. I like the dark ones but they also have Caucasian and something in between for those with more exotic tastes. If you suck on one long enough they fill your mouth with a sticky white substance which you can spit out or swallow.

You can also get Super Dickmanns which are bigger (Superdicken!) and Dickmann's CocoCabana (the hottest spot north of her Vanna) and Dicke Partytipps (great for a briss!). Watch Dicke TV Spots where men, woman and children gobble Dickmanns. And don't miss the Dicker Spaß im Netz page which screams Dick, Dicker, Superdicker! and has emoticon in the upper right of the screen showing just what to do with any Dick. [warning: you may want to mute first if you are at work] [warning: this is disturbing] You know you want to click it.

What The Drücken

Most people ignored me but the ones that didn't stared in disbelief. The look on their faces told me that people around Dusseldorf aren't used to seeing people running in the morning. Two woman immediately turned to find their child before I ran past. One of them was riding a bike with a third wheel thingie for her daughter.

Partly I was out for some exercise, partly I needed to get some Euro cash. Mostly I was running down the sidewalk but I found a pedestrian path and went down it. A couple were walking with their dogs, only one of which was on a leash. The other rushed up to me and I had to stop running. I started yelling at the dog, "Nein! Nein!" The owners got him under control and I ran away thinking "Good thing I know how to speak German to dogs."

I stopped at the Deutsche Bank. They had four ATMs inside the first door. Someone was using one and when I pulled on the door, it was locked. I figured at that hour, only one person was allowed in at a time so I patiently waited. After maybe 30 seconds of waiting another person came up, looked at me strangely (I figured it was the running outfit) then pushed the door open and went in.

"Ah! Drücken!" I said. This is one of the few German words I know but it was not on the door or I would have known to push. He laughed, realizing that I must have been pulling on the door. I danke'd him and ran back toward the hotel. I think I'll keep the running down to twice a week.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Stupidity Makes Me Want To Throw Up

It's all a big scam. X-ray your shoes, no liquids, and we put up with it. Why? Because we're morons. Morons shoes being X-ray'ed by moron X-ray operators. And it's all BS.

In order to meet all those brilliant new rules I checked everything except my laptop and camera. Unfortunately, that included my meclizine and I was forced to get Dramamine from the airport store. I was a bit amazed that they don't totally rape you on the price, $2.29 for four "chewable" tablets. Normally, Dramamine is about $5 for 12 pills, I think. Worse is that Dramamine sucks and they're about as chewable as aspirin (not baby aspirin either). Dramamine only works for 4-6 hours.

Luckily it was a smooth flight so the Dramamine went untested. On the flight I had a aisle seat in the middle section (a 2-4-2 seating arrangement) with only one other person in the row. They moved to the next row up and I immediately peed on all four seats to mark my territory. After we were in the air, I put up all the armrests and laid across all four seats (still not enough space to straighten my legs but not bad). I felt it only fair to not lean any of the seats back to impinge on the people behind me. I dozed on/off for about 5 hours.

I woke, blurry eyed, realizing I had packed my contacts and glasses. I had only a 2 oz. bottle of saline and I used about half cleaning the gunk from my eyes. I figured I fix things after we got to Frankfurt to change planes.

Well, Germany, unlike the US, has figured out that I don't need to carry my checked bags through customs. I would not be getting my bags for another 3 hours, after we were in Dusseldorf.

Finally, at the hotel, I was unpacking and couldn't find my glasses. I checked the usual places, inside my toiletry bag, inside my shoes, nothing. I finally found them, in my computer bag, which had been with me the whole time. Just like I said; we're all morons.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Kiss My Big Brown Ass

Today I was almost killed by a horse's ass. I have a lot of experience dealing with horses' asses but today was new for me.

I was running this morning and after about an hour came upon two horses' asses...along with the rest of the horses. A guy was on one horse and he was also leading the other. The horse he was on started walking at a 45 degree angle (I'm sure there's some fancy name for this but I don't know it) and in doing so, blocked the entire path. He then galloped about 40 feet ahead (I'm saying galloped but maybe it was a cantor or a trot or who knows what; there seems to be more words for horse movement then the Eskimos have for snow). I assume he was trying to run the "sideways walking" out of his horse, kind of like closing Windows and restarting it to get things working again.

He seemed to have his horse under control and so I went to run by (maybe jog or trot, even lope, but definitely not sashay). Suddenly the horse turned back to that 45 degree angle and I was face-to-ass with the great beast. Fortunately for me, I did not get kicked. Fortunately for the rider, I did not get sh*t on. He went on ahead to an emergency horse pull off area and stayed there until I passed. "Sorry about that," was all I got out of it.

Then, on the drive home, I kept hearing a funny squeak. I figured it was the woman driving behind me, who apparently mistook my car for a horse and was trying her best to get in my ass. After she turned off and I still heard the squeak, I tried to figure out what it might be. It seemed worse when I hit the brakes but I could still hear it without hitting the brakes. I assumed my brakes were rubbing on the rotors.

When I got into my garage, it was still squeaking. So much for the brakes theory. Let's go with belt squeak. I left the car running and popped the hood, like I might actually be able to do something. I just wanted to try and figure out what was squeaking so when I brought the car in I could tell them something as it would likely stop squeaking as soon as I brought it in.

Under the hood, I diagnosed and, after turning off the engine, fixed the problem. A piece of Styrofoam had gotten caught up in the engine compartment and was rubbing against a belt. I don't know how it got there, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was put there by a horse's ass.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Haribo*? Nein!

As I prepare to head back to Germany, I'm looking through the TSA's list of what's allowed and what's not on a plane. Some of the more interesting items:

  • Personal lubricants - Up to 4 oz. (check or carry-on is OK)
  • Mouthwash or Toothpaste (checked OK, no carry-on)
Note to self: bring mint flavored lubricant as substitute.
  • Swords, Sabers, Firearms, Axes, Cattle Prods, Billy Clubs, Brass Knuckles and Kubatons [???] (checked OK, no carry-on)
  • Cheese in pressurized containers, Jell-O and Whipped Cream (checked OK, no carry-on)
Note to self: check on nutritional value of mint flavored personal lubricant or consider banana as an alternative. Also, check whether Easy Cheese can be used as a personal lubricant.

* - Haribo is a German candy maker famous for gummy bears. [highlight for explanation]