Yes, once again it’s time for me to dust off my suitcase and passport and leave my beloved homeland for new sights and adventures. This time my destination will be Land of the Free and Home of the Brave. Yes, I am off to the United States of America.
As usual, I will be visiting my world-hopping sister and do a little wandering around on the side. This particular tour will take me to the wonderful cities of Cinncinatti, Chicago and New York. In this opportunity, my younger sister couldn’t come along, so my mother is taking her place.
Ok, I think that’s about it.
AMERICA, I’M READY!!
Are you?
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Monday, May 23, 2005
Long car trips: THEY'RE GREAT!!
Some people hate long car trips. I don’t. Specially if I don’t have to drive and am able to chill while somebody else has to deal with crazy bus drivers and maniac truckers.
Reason to like long car trips #1: The scenery
I enjoy gazing out the window. I like how the panorama seems to remain the same even though I know it keeps changing every fraction of a second. The distant mountains turn into small villages, a patch of wilderness or maybe a surreal sunset. It is a continuous slide show that throws color and scenes at me in a way that can never be fully captured by painting or video.
And going thru cities is almost more fun than driving in the country. Whenever you go into a populated area, a million little stories unfold in front of my eyes at brisk speed. A couple walking down the street: she is carrying all the bags, while her male companion carries nothing. What does it mean? Is it that he’s macho scum? Or maybe he has a bad back? What would it be like to be him? To be her? When did they meet? What’s their story? How will it end? The possibilites are endless. Multiply that for every man, woman and child in the street and you see how the world can be quite entertaining for the alert voyeur... I mean, observer.
Reason to like long car trips #2: The music
When you travel by car, you get to enjoy some musical amusement. You are exposed to the driver’s musical tastes, which may or may not concur with your own. In the second case, you are faced with music you would never pick by yourself and, who knows? it may be music that you may end up adding to your own playlist. Or it could be hours of neverending torture... It all depends.
But if you have a say in what the music is gonna be, then it’s your opportunity to share your personal musical predilections with others. You get to be a DJ for a few hours. Be warned, however, that some people may not agree that the Enrique Iglesias is God’s gift to music.
Reason to like long car trips #3: The conversations
A lot of car trips consist of two people and two people only: the driver and the co-pilot (also known as “That Lazy Sonuva That’s Just Sitting There Lookin’ At The Window And Playing With The Radio While I’m Driving My Butt Off”). It’s a great setup for a deep, meaningful talk.
It’s in moments like these when two friends are able to deepen their bond as they discuss the profound themes of the universe, like What do women want? and What’s the shortest LEGAL way to get into their pants...WITHOUT paying for it?
You know, all the stuff that has troubled Man since the beginning of time.
Reason to like long car trips #1: The scenery
I enjoy gazing out the window. I like how the panorama seems to remain the same even though I know it keeps changing every fraction of a second. The distant mountains turn into small villages, a patch of wilderness or maybe a surreal sunset. It is a continuous slide show that throws color and scenes at me in a way that can never be fully captured by painting or video.
And going thru cities is almost more fun than driving in the country. Whenever you go into a populated area, a million little stories unfold in front of my eyes at brisk speed. A couple walking down the street: she is carrying all the bags, while her male companion carries nothing. What does it mean? Is it that he’s macho scum? Or maybe he has a bad back? What would it be like to be him? To be her? When did they meet? What’s their story? How will it end? The possibilites are endless. Multiply that for every man, woman and child in the street and you see how the world can be quite entertaining for the alert voyeur... I mean, observer.
Reason to like long car trips #2: The music
When you travel by car, you get to enjoy some musical amusement. You are exposed to the driver’s musical tastes, which may or may not concur with your own. In the second case, you are faced with music you would never pick by yourself and, who knows? it may be music that you may end up adding to your own playlist. Or it could be hours of neverending torture... It all depends.
But if you have a say in what the music is gonna be, then it’s your opportunity to share your personal musical predilections with others. You get to be a DJ for a few hours. Be warned, however, that some people may not agree that the Enrique Iglesias is God’s gift to music.
Reason to like long car trips #3: The conversations
A lot of car trips consist of two people and two people only: the driver and the co-pilot (also known as “That Lazy Sonuva That’s Just Sitting There Lookin’ At The Window And Playing With The Radio While I’m Driving My Butt Off”). It’s a great setup for a deep, meaningful talk.
It’s in moments like these when two friends are able to deepen their bond as they discuss the profound themes of the universe, like What do women want? and What’s the shortest LEGAL way to get into their pants...WITHOUT paying for it?
You know, all the stuff that has troubled Man since the beginning of time.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
The pros and cons of being a confessor
I’ve always loved it when people become so comfortable with me that they allow themselves to open their hearts to me and tell me things they have buried deep within, things they can’t tell to their families, coworkers, or other friends.
When somebody tells you a personal secret, it is a grand feeling. It makes one feel ultra-special. I am always overwhelmed by the trust that has been placed on me and my discression. I think to myself, “Nobody else knows that, just me!!” That’s ultra cool.
However, sometimes folks come and tell me things that are just way too juicy. Those bits of information are the ones I really struggle with, for the primal urge of telling secrets is very, very powerful. In those cases, I begin wishing my memory was able to be wiped clean at the push of a button. Sometimes I have to make such an effort to keep my mouth shut that the veins in my neck start to bloat and they feel like they’re gonna burst at any given moment. It’s just like passing a kidney stone, but without being able to expel the damned thing out.
Lucky for me, I’ve been provided with a lousy long term memory. So even if a secret has given me a bit of trouble to keep, it eventually gets deleted a little while after it enters my brain. It’s a real blessing.
When cushy ain’t kosher
I came in contact with cushy toilet seats about three years ago, at my girlfriend’s house.
In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, picture a toilet with a soft pillow shaped like a toilet seat. That’s a cushy seat.
Back then, I remember it was such a different experience, at first I didn’t quite know what to think. I also remember it was quite comfy yet odd.
I even tried unsuccesfuly to convince my folks to get one.
A little while later, I forgot about the whole thing.
Some time later, my mom replaced one of the house toilet seats with a cushy seat. I tell you, it wasn’t pleasurable. After being so accustomed to a hard seat, sitting on that thing is eerie. It feels too soft. Obscenely soft. It wasn’t a problem at my in-laws, ‘cause it was a new toilet and everything. But this is one hard toilet seat I knew and loved. You can’t just go and change stuff on me all of a sudden.
GIVE ME BACK MY HARD SEAT!!!
Caller’s remorse
I just called a friend long distance to her cell phone. The conversation was very nice and we had a good laugh. I just hope I can at least chuckle when the phone bill gets here.
I don’t want to know THAAAAT!
My boss down at the Culture Publishing House is very concerned with his health. Flu, indigestion, sores, allergies, you name it, he’s got it. Some people would say that he borders on hypocondria, but even if he is, that’s ok with me. Everybody is entitled to a hobby, right? The ugly part is that he likes to narrate every symptom to the smallest detail.
I really wish he didn’t. I mean, c’mon… telling your coworkers about your fifth bathroom break is not endearing.
Not by a long shot.
When somebody tells you a personal secret, it is a grand feeling. It makes one feel ultra-special. I am always overwhelmed by the trust that has been placed on me and my discression. I think to myself, “Nobody else knows that, just me!!” That’s ultra cool.
However, sometimes folks come and tell me things that are just way too juicy. Those bits of information are the ones I really struggle with, for the primal urge of telling secrets is very, very powerful. In those cases, I begin wishing my memory was able to be wiped clean at the push of a button. Sometimes I have to make such an effort to keep my mouth shut that the veins in my neck start to bloat and they feel like they’re gonna burst at any given moment. It’s just like passing a kidney stone, but without being able to expel the damned thing out.
Lucky for me, I’ve been provided with a lousy long term memory. So even if a secret has given me a bit of trouble to keep, it eventually gets deleted a little while after it enters my brain. It’s a real blessing.
When cushy ain’t kosher
I came in contact with cushy toilet seats about three years ago, at my girlfriend’s house.
In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, picture a toilet with a soft pillow shaped like a toilet seat. That’s a cushy seat.
Back then, I remember it was such a different experience, at first I didn’t quite know what to think. I also remember it was quite comfy yet odd.
I even tried unsuccesfuly to convince my folks to get one.
A little while later, I forgot about the whole thing.
Some time later, my mom replaced one of the house toilet seats with a cushy seat. I tell you, it wasn’t pleasurable. After being so accustomed to a hard seat, sitting on that thing is eerie. It feels too soft. Obscenely soft. It wasn’t a problem at my in-laws, ‘cause it was a new toilet and everything. But this is one hard toilet seat I knew and loved. You can’t just go and change stuff on me all of a sudden.
GIVE ME BACK MY HARD SEAT!!!
Caller’s remorse
I just called a friend long distance to her cell phone. The conversation was very nice and we had a good laugh. I just hope I can at least chuckle when the phone bill gets here.
I don’t want to know THAAAAT!
My boss down at the Culture Publishing House is very concerned with his health. Flu, indigestion, sores, allergies, you name it, he’s got it. Some people would say that he borders on hypocondria, but even if he is, that’s ok with me. Everybody is entitled to a hobby, right? The ugly part is that he likes to narrate every symptom to the smallest detail.
I really wish he didn’t. I mean, c’mon… telling your coworkers about your fifth bathroom break is not endearing.
Not by a long shot.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Mother's Day
Fun fact: unlike the American holiday, which is fixed on a day (2nd. Sunday of May) in Kzanderallia it’s fixed on a specific date. So for us, May 10th is always Mother’s Day.
This is a date when folks try to convince other people (and themselves) they aren’t totally lousy as sons. Most try to achieve this the material way, buying gifts left and right. The wealthy get appliances, vehicles, jewelry or clothing. The underprivileged like me go for candy, flowers or balloons, depending on each one’s own sense of guilt. I went for all three.
This year I sent flowers to my mother-in-law, my granny and my mom. My granny and my mom got balloons and chocolates. My mom also got an authentic KzanderCard©.
A bit much? Perhaps. But I have a philosophy regarding Mother’s Day:
“A man who spens too much on his mother is emotionally sick, but not as sick as the man who doesn’t spend enough.”
Checking up on the Flaviuses
Remember Flavius?? After he and his delightful wife came back from their honeymoon, they moved into an apartment a few blocks from where I live. Last night, they invited me to dinner.
I felt like I was walking right into an IKEA catalog. It’s amazing: everything looks modern and stylish. Very few frames are placed on the walls, giving the room a very spacious feel.
However, appearances can be deceiving. The whole dining set (dining table, 5 chairs, two little shelves) cost them about $250, total. Apparently, some German teacher got her contract revoked and had to sell all her furniture to get some fast cash. Now that is some bonified good luck.
Sometimes UNRATED is a real warning
Fully aware of what stuck-ups censors can be, I have eagerly looked forward to the release of UNRATED versions of my favorite movies. There you can see the stories in their unadulterated splendor. Finally, I can see the humorous scenes that had to be left on the cutting floor just because some prude thought they were unappropriate.
It was with this mindset that I got myself a copy of Team America: World Police... UNRATED!!.
Bad idea. You know what? Lemme say that one more time with bigger and bolder letters:
BAD IDEA.
This spoof on puppet shows featured the gross out humour, celebrity bashing and trucker language South Park creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker are famous for.
So far so good, right??
However, without warning, I was treated to some unmentionable and gag-inducing sex scenes. I mean, I considered myself a connoisseur of amatory cinema, and yet I was ready to throw my lunch all over the place. Now I am actually considering getting a lobotomy to purge those images from my tender, innocent brain.
If you haven’t seen Team America yet, kids... do yourself a favor and get yourself the ‘R’ version.
You will NEVER regret it.
The fun of translingual faux pas
I was chatting with a friend in Spanish and wanted to express laughter. And how did I write it?? Hahahahaha. Then I realized that laughter is written with a ‘J’ in Spanish: Jajajajajaja.
Oh, this has gotta be my lamest post ever.
This is a date when folks try to convince other people (and themselves) they aren’t totally lousy as sons. Most try to achieve this the material way, buying gifts left and right. The wealthy get appliances, vehicles, jewelry or clothing. The underprivileged like me go for candy, flowers or balloons, depending on each one’s own sense of guilt. I went for all three.
This year I sent flowers to my mother-in-law, my granny and my mom. My granny and my mom got balloons and chocolates. My mom also got an authentic KzanderCard©.
A bit much? Perhaps. But I have a philosophy regarding Mother’s Day:
“A man who spens too much on his mother is emotionally sick, but not as sick as the man who doesn’t spend enough.”
Checking up on the Flaviuses
Remember Flavius?? After he and his delightful wife came back from their honeymoon, they moved into an apartment a few blocks from where I live. Last night, they invited me to dinner.
I felt like I was walking right into an IKEA catalog. It’s amazing: everything looks modern and stylish. Very few frames are placed on the walls, giving the room a very spacious feel.
However, appearances can be deceiving. The whole dining set (dining table, 5 chairs, two little shelves) cost them about $250, total. Apparently, some German teacher got her contract revoked and had to sell all her furniture to get some fast cash. Now that is some bonified good luck.
Sometimes UNRATED is a real warning
Fully aware of what stuck-ups censors can be, I have eagerly looked forward to the release of UNRATED versions of my favorite movies. There you can see the stories in their unadulterated splendor. Finally, I can see the humorous scenes that had to be left on the cutting floor just because some prude thought they were unappropriate.
It was with this mindset that I got myself a copy of Team America: World Police... UNRATED!!.
Bad idea. You know what? Lemme say that one more time with bigger and bolder letters:
BAD IDEA.
This spoof on puppet shows featured the gross out humour, celebrity bashing and trucker language South Park creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker are famous for.
So far so good, right??
However, without warning, I was treated to some unmentionable and gag-inducing sex scenes. I mean, I considered myself a connoisseur of amatory cinema, and yet I was ready to throw my lunch all over the place. Now I am actually considering getting a lobotomy to purge those images from my tender, innocent brain.
If you haven’t seen Team America yet, kids... do yourself a favor and get yourself the ‘R’ version.
You will NEVER regret it.
The fun of translingual faux pas
I was chatting with a friend in Spanish and wanted to express laughter. And how did I write it?? Hahahahaha. Then I realized that laughter is written with a ‘J’ in Spanish: Jajajajajaja.
Oh, this has gotta be my lamest post ever.
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