Archive for the ‘Random Thoughts’ category

Brain Drops IX: The Revenge

September 5th, 2010

I’m going to get past the EasyJet baggage fees by wearing all of my clothes the way Joey did with Chandler’s on Friends.

Here’s an angel who’s not only ripped, but is shedding his tunic like he’s about to go down and kick evil’s ass. I named him Jean Claude Van Damnation.

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Sure, art thieves can make off with a Van Gogh painting from an Egyptian museum, but let’s see them nick one of Gaudi’s works.

Torre Agbar, the world’s biggest phallic symbol, is located at the Glories Metro stop. I swear I am not making that up.

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There are a lot of people hanging around at the Parc du Clot. I’m assuming that’s the place you go when you want to hire scabs. Think about it… you’ll get it sooner or later.

How was I to know I couldn’t pee in the sitting room at Casa Batllo? It’s not my fault Gaudi puts bathroom tile everywhere.

Brain Drops VIII: Random Edition

August 29th, 2010
  • People who cover themselves in body paint then stand motionless for photos in public squares make me nostalgic for the interactivity of mimes.
  • The restroom in the Irun train station has a condom machine. I can’t even begin to understand why that’s necessary. Is train sex THAT frequent? Shit, why don’t I speak better Spanish? Donde esta la tren con mucho sex?
  • With all the busking that goes on in Paris, I was shocked that no one had packed a jacket onto his shoulder to play the “hunchback” at Notre Dame. So I did. There’s a fortune to be made.IMGP0903
  • People who talk on the phone in the restroom disturb me and it’s accentuated when it’s into a bluetoooth earpiece and in a foreign language because you have no idea what they might be saying or if they’re actually talking to a person and not their genitalia.
  • I can appreciate the cultural tradition of kisses on the cheek as a friendly gesture in France, but it looks weird when police officers with machine guns greet each other like that.
  • There’s a woman who just passed me wearing orange tights, a short blue skirt and an orange tee. She’s one mask away from being a superhero.
  • Reason #437 I love Europe: I walked into a small store to buy something to drink. When I stepped through the door, the shop owner literally ran from the back room with a piece of watermelon, put it in my hand, saying “have this! Please, it’s so sweet and delicious!”
  • Just saw a guy dump his fries on his burger like an additional topping. #realmenofgenius
  • Isn’t a metal detector at a night club in Madrid pointless? It’s not physically possible for anyone in those outfits to have a weapon concealed somewhere.

Why Americans Hate Football

August 22nd, 2010

A Brain Drops special edition

Since I’ve been traveling, I’ve finally learned to appreciate soccer. Or, as the rest of the world calls it – football. Knowing a bit about the sport is critical if you want to be social in countries outside of the U.S. I’ve actually started to enjoy it, so I had to wonder “why do Americans hate it so much?”

I’m going to skip over a couple of the basics, like the fact that we’re not that good at it. And I won’t even mention the ill-fated promotional tour to Arizona that cost us half our best players.

Let’s dig a bit deeper than that:

- You can’t use your hands. Why would you deliberately disallow the use of your primary appendage? Would you pay to watch Nascar drivers who’ve removed their tires? Of course not – the crashes wouldn’t look nearly as cool and splodey.

- The games have low scores. “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey” – U.S. sports fans don’t buy that line of shit. We need constant stimulation and fireworks. We thrive on the long touchdown pass in American football, the grand slam homerun of baseball or the “we score every 23 seconds” of basketball.

- The sponsor logos are right on the jerseys. Sorry, we refuse to be that blatantly open about the fact that our corporate overlords control every aspect of our lives. It makes it easier for us to cope when we want to pretend we have a “free market system.”

- There are just too many leagues. It’s impossible to keep them all straight – there needs to be a major merger of all the various leagues ASAP. The United States loves a good monopoly – whether it’s throwing hotels down on Boardwalk and Park Place or kicking down “incentives” to entice the telecom industry to have their annual “price increase festival” in your city next year.

- The yellow card penalty pretty much means there’s no immediate punishment. In a country with a history steeped in vigilante justice, we just don’t believe in delayed castigation.

- The clock doesn’t stop. This is a double whammy. No commercial time during a sporting event means no million dollar a minute ad rates. Then on top of that, you eliminate the breaks people use to grab a Coors Light and some Doritos, decimating the consumption of the sponsor’s products.

- Players have a tendency to take their shirts off. Americans may feign outrage when they see a topless woman, but it’s shirtless men that really make middle America uncomfortable.

- Many games don’t have a winner. The thought of not being able to win is anathema to most of us. There’s no adage that says “you win some, you lose some, but most of the time you’re the same” in the American vernacular. We really don’t believe in win-win, unless we win both times.

That’s my take on it. Am I missing something?

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Brain Drops VI : French Class Edition

August 15th, 2010

There are a lot of random thoughts that pass through my brain while I’m traveling. Each week, I’m sharing a few of them. Please don’t judge me.

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This week a little focus on the language of the land.

  • My minimal skills with the French language makes it nearly impossible to retort with “that’s what she said” to what people are saying. But no matter how hard it might be, I’m doing it anyway. TWSS.
  • I keep hoping I’ll find a street called Rue Maurice LaMarche and there’ll be a giant statue of Pinky and the Brain at the intersection.pinky_and_brain
  • If the word gratuit means free in French, why do gratuities always cost me money?
  • I figured a city named Bordeaux would be like the French equivalent of Willy Wonka’s factory, except with rivers of wine and bubbling cheese fountains.
  • In France, a cul de sac is called an “impasse.” Shouldn’t the French term for cul-de sac be cul-de sac?
  • I’m at a Mexican salsa club in Bordeaux and am totally confused as to how to communicate. Should I not be able to speak French or not be able to speak Spanish?
  • I like that used cars in France are called “ocassion.” It makes it feel like you’re celebrating something, even if it’s just buying someone’s second hand piece of shit Peugot.
  • It’s interesting that the international song for an ice cream truck is a plinky version of “Farmer in the Dell.” Wouldn’t they make about 10 times as much money if they played Justin Bieber or something?
  • It’s far easier to understand the French than the group of Irish people I’m watching football with. It’s like trying to decipher Brad Pitt’s character in Snatch.
  • In France, churros are called chi-chis. It makes them seem even more delicious, but now I want them served wrapped in a halter top.

Brain Drops V: Pageant of the Masters Edition

August 8th, 2010

I wasn’t going to let a sneezing fit spoil my stay in Paris. As a result, my DNA is now a part of the permanent collection at the Orsay. Sorry Vincent!

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Sometimes I think some of the greatest painters had the maturity of Beavis & Butthead. “hehehe… That flower looks like a vagina… hehehe. I’m gonna paint it.”

Double stick tape evidently dates back to the dawn of creation. SOMETHING was holding those leaves on.

Sure, paint a bunch of schoolchildren playing in a park and you’re an impressionist genius, but snap a few photos and you wind up on some watch list.

I think this sign at the Louvre means “Don’t Walk on Water. That’s Jesus’s job.”

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With the right positioning and a marketing campaign about it being an expression of woman’s struggle to take control of her sexuality, Two Girls One Cup would probably be right at home alongside some of the art at the Pompidou.

Restroom signs in the modern art gallery should be themed to the section they’re in. I’d love to watch people trying to figure out which is the Ladies Room in the Kandinsky section.

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I like modern art and abstract art, but I have never understood the popularity of Picasso – it looks like the fingerpaintings of a 7 year old to me. Seriously, doesn’t this look like your nephew was trying to draw a muppet?

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It sucks that many museums won’t let you take photos – not even of the sculpture. I would wager it’s more because they want to sell the prints in their gift shops than any fear of damage.

The Pompidou had a temporary exhibit of theme parks, world fairs and their impacts on architecture, city planning and art. I think it’s cool that Salvador Dali had a job kind of like mine once, creating a maze attraction. Of course, the attractions I’ve worked on didn’t have naked women in them. Unless you count the women flashing their breasts to the cameras on Jurassic Park.

Brain drops IV: Road Sign Edition

August 1st, 2010

Riding a bicycle through Europe allows you to check out a lot of small towns that you can’t easily see any other way. And along the way, you find some pretty unique road signs.Here are my interpretations of some odd graphics.

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Caution: Marge Simpson Riding Train

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1920s Railway Laborer Ahead

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The street may be called Pispot, but I hear it’s actually a shithole.

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Is this called Rue de la Vignette because the buildings are made up of short stories?

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Donk: Please watch your head.

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And the award for Random Attraction of the Year goes to: The Canada Museum in the middle of a small town in Belgium

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Isn’t a double negative grammatically incorrect? I can only interpret this as “End of the Zone you can do nothing in.”

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Apparently parking meters accept poker chips in this area.

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Watch for Spontaneous Xanadu Re-enactments

Brain Drops 3: Amsterdam Edition

July 25th, 2010
Captain Morgan
Image via Wikipedia

Not every random thought deserves to have its own blog post. Here are some of the things that popped into my head while I was in Amsterdam.

  • Do you think somewhere in the Netherlands there’s a community of Dutch Pennsylvanians? All wearing Steelers jerseys and eating cheese steak?
  • They don’t seem to realize it, but the marketing folks for Cool Ranch Doritos are missing a natural opportunity to sponsor the entire city of Amsterdam.
  • Amsterdam trivia: a licensed prostitute has to pay 19% sales tax and 30-35% income tax on the fee she gets from a client. There’s a joke in there about getting screwed 3 times for the same money, but I can’t quite get to it.
  • Trying to figure out signs in Dutch is like sorting through furniture names at Ikea.
  • In trying to speak an approximation of Dutch, I think I just asked someone for directions to the “Al Franken House.”
  • You’d think that with the gigantic queue in front of the Anne Frank house, the Germans would have known something was up.
  • I’m torn between two worlds. For the hell of it, I joined a pub crawl in Amsterdam with a bunch of twenty-somethings but I also think I’m starting to develop that crusty white gunk old people get on the sides of their mouths.
  • On the pub crawl I feel a little like “Ken, Lonnie, I’d like you to meet … Mohammed, Jugdish, Sidney and Clayton. Grab a seat and make yourself at home, okay?”
  • There’s an Amsterdam Club called “More Than a Woman.” I don’t want to think too hard about what that means, but I’m guessing it’s not a Bee Gees theme bar.
  • My hotel bath tub in Amsterdam is some bizarre funnel shape so the only way to shower without falling over is to pose like Captain Morgan. One foot by the drain and one on the ledge above.
  • The Diamond Museum should give out free samples like they did on the Heineken tour.
  • I’d really like to have someone’s ear to complain about the long lines at the Van Gogh museum.
  • I haven’t eaten much in Amsterdam since I realized everything is cooked in Dutch ovens.
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Running A Red Light (District) In Antwerp

July 22nd, 2010
Villa Tinto
Image by wauter de tuinkabouter via Flickr

Antwerp was a beautiful city and full of surprises (read more here). One additional surprise I got was stumbling into the red light district after boat watching.

Here’s a peek behind the curtain inside my head:

Huh, this street looks interesting. Wonder what’s down here? Lots of store fronts and guys walking ar– whoah! That’s no mannequin in that bikini!

Jeezus, there are hundreds of girls behind glass doors posing and pressing up against the glass.

Wait, what do I do?

Keep walking?

But what do I DO?

Okay, look, but only for a second. You don’t want to seem rude.

And smile politely.

Shit! Don’t smile too big! Now she’s waving for you to come over, just keep going.

Haha – that guy just got yelled at for offering a 20 Euro note to a woman.

Okay, looks like I’m halfway through. Geez, this is like a haunted house at Halloween Horror Nights. Except women keep grabbing at you from behind the glass instead of werewolves. They’re all over the place.

Tall one, fat one, old one.

Eeep!! Tranny!

Wait, do I just ignore him? I know it’s rude, but…

Hey, did you ever wonder who invented shoelaces?

This place could totally be more efficient if they just added a bill slot next to the door and it worked like a vending machine.

hmmm… she’s posing totally motionless, like a statue. I guess some guys like that.

70% of them are on cell phones the entire time. I hope they turn them off when they get a client.

Finally, end of the street. I need to stop for a drink and absorb all that.

Well, look at that. This must be where the off the record girls work.

Moving along…

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Brain Drops – Belgian Edition

July 18th, 2010

hehehe... boobs... hehe

Also includes surrounding territories…

Isn’t it strange that the direct translation of the number 80 in French is 4-20? Is there a hidden meaning there? Does FRANCE want to be the home of pot smoking in Europe?

France is full of warning signs about Mort. Really, how dangerous is some 70 year old Jewish guy?

France’s economic structure is partially built on inefficiency. Having 7 waiters to serve 10 tables wouldn’t fly in the US, but here it keeps people employed.

All the chocolate shops in Bruges sell beautifully crafted “special occasion” chocolates. Where the hell is the “shove as much in your mouth as you can” chocolate shop?

If I were ever in a wheelchair, I’d want one made out of a BMW motorcycle.

Lots of American tourists in Bruges. I guess Colin Farell movies still sell tourist attractions, if not theater tickets.

It’s odd to me that babies cry the same way wherever you go. I always expect them to wail with some sort of accent in other countries.

Just saw a heavy, old Belgian housewife in curlers running down the driveway yelling and shaking a dish towel at her husband, who was driving away. I love when movie cliches come to life!

Had a thought while singing the Gilligan’s Island theme song in my head (don’t ask) – the line that says “no boats, no lights, no motorcars – as primitive as can be?” WTF is a motorcar? The show aired in the late 60s, but evidently the theme song was written in 1912.

Canal in Bruges

Saw a porcelain cat while I was riding today. Fake animals are usually pretty disturbing in the first place and this was a statue of a hairless cat which enhanced the creep factor tenfold. It gave me that vague feeling of unease I get when I see the silly putty version of Tom Hanks in Polar Express.

A Rotterdam dance club advertises an after hours club every Saturday & Sunday morning from 5am – noon. Note to self. Stay away from the coffee here. And pretty much anything else consumable.

I’m starting to get the hang of the Dutch language. It’s kinda like English but you string an entire phrase together into one word. Like “wuldjulikunbier?”

Just saw a wandering rose salesman going bar to bar in Rotterdam’s red light zone. I think I love the new phrase I just came up with – “that’s like taking roses to a whorehouse.” I’m totally going to start using that.

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Brain Drops: July 10, 2010

July 12th, 2010

When I’m on my bike for hours at a time, weird stuff happens in my head. I’ll be writing those brain drops down and sharing them weekly, so you can watch my descent into madness first hand!

  • My favorite town name in England: Bletchly. Any town that sounds like you’re praising the porcelain is awesome in my eyes.
  • Learned a new British phrase for drinking too much: “getting trolleyed” – i.e. drinking so much they have to push you home in a shopping cart.
  • Here’s how polite the British are: the pub toilets have vending machines selling condoms, which isn’t unusual. But in Britain, they sell Tic-Tacs with the condoms, so you don’t have to subject your partner to that awkward “next morning” breath.
  • I corrected a typo in the AT&T warning about international data roaming: “Turning on international roaming could lead to ridiculous charges.” $20 per Mb? WTF?
  • A closed sign in front of this cafe would evidently be redundant.
  • In the U.S.: Bike vs. car = bike loses; in Europe: Loaded touring bike vs. city car = even odds. Yes, that’s right. There’s a Smart Car Roadster.
  • The green neon crosses in front of French pharmacies makes it feel like the entire city is full of medical marijuana dispensaries.

That’s it for this week. Glitches between Evernote and a shitty internet connection lost a whole bunch of other thoughts, so you’ll have to be patient for more.

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