Hans Christian Andersen put an X in his diary on all of the days he masturbated.
With that, I think I'm done writing in the blog. It gets tiresome after a while putting what's going on in your life into words. My schedule for the next few months:
April 29th- Athens
May 4th- Copenhagen, Andrew Bird
May 17th- New Jersey
May 23rd- Haverford, where I'll be doing math research
August 1st- Done at Haverford for the summer, hopefully road trip or such
Late August- Haverford, for my senior year. Lloyd 70s.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Dublin: Adversity and Challenge
Last weekend Tiffany, Roger and myself took a trip to Dublin. The theme of the trip was Adversity and Challenge, and alternatively titled, Adversity, Challenge and Bottle Urination.
When Tiffany and myself got off the plane, at about 23:00 (Roger was already there on a different flight), we went to get some Euros at the ATM, and the machine ate Tiffany's only debit or credit card. She was told to immediately cancel her card as she wouldn't be getting it back. I was certainly not going to use the ATM after that, so we were left only with the 10 Euro I had left over from spring break to get to center city. The bus was 12 and we convinced currency exchange to give us two Euro.
We meet Roger at the hotel, but the term "the hotel" is a tricky one. The plan was: Roger booked a single in a decent hotel and then we would all sleep there and split the cost. We go up to the room, figure out sleeping arrangements and then a knock on the door. A hotel employee knows what we are doing and tells us we must leave. We have no cash and it's midnight on a Friday night in Dublin. Eventually it works out that Roger gives us money and we find a cheap enough hostel (15 Euro a night). Although the bathrooms were disgusting andmy comforter smelled intensely of human sweat and I had to use my jacket as a pillow and the obese man sleeping under Tiffany's bunk continually snored and farted during the night, it was a place to stay. The next day we exhausted Roger's Euros and the currency exchange places were closed so Roger couldn't exchange his Danish kroner. It all worked out, as we found a hostel that accepted cards. However, this hostel was connected with a hotel, and combined they only had one public bathroom. During the night this was locked and my pea-sized bladder mixed with the numerous ciders we tried out didn't mix well. Not once, not twice, but three times that night I was forced to find a creative place to put my urine. The first was a stone decoration in the hotel. The second was a found beer bottle. The third was a bottle of cider. Success.
On Sunday, Roger and Tiff decided we should go to Glendalough, a mountain-like area. We went on a 10 km hike, with a 250 m climb. Which was exercising, considering I had all of my belongings on my back, but well worth it. However, on the bus ride home, adversity struck again in its old guise of the need to urinate. We weren't close to Dublin and I had to burst so Roger chugged my water for me and I steadily deposited my wasteful liquid into the water bottle. Roger tried to look out the window holding in his laughter and trying to not make it painfully obvious what was going on. He reported that the people behind me awoke and immediately figured out what was going on and looked horrified.
Also, I'll be at the Haverford apartments this summer doing math research, staying with Mr. Ralston and Mr. Kaszubski; for those interested.
When Tiffany and myself got off the plane, at about 23:00 (Roger was already there on a different flight), we went to get some Euros at the ATM, and the machine ate Tiffany's only debit or credit card. She was told to immediately cancel her card as she wouldn't be getting it back. I was certainly not going to use the ATM after that, so we were left only with the 10 Euro I had left over from spring break to get to center city. The bus was 12 and we convinced currency exchange to give us two Euro.
We meet Roger at the hotel, but the term "the hotel" is a tricky one. The plan was: Roger booked a single in a decent hotel and then we would all sleep there and split the cost. We go up to the room, figure out sleeping arrangements and then a knock on the door. A hotel employee knows what we are doing and tells us we must leave. We have no cash and it's midnight on a Friday night in Dublin. Eventually it works out that Roger gives us money and we find a cheap enough hostel (15 Euro a night). Although the bathrooms were disgusting andmy comforter smelled intensely of human sweat and I had to use my jacket as a pillow and the obese man sleeping under Tiffany's bunk continually snored and farted during the night, it was a place to stay. The next day we exhausted Roger's Euros and the currency exchange places were closed so Roger couldn't exchange his Danish kroner. It all worked out, as we found a hostel that accepted cards. However, this hostel was connected with a hotel, and combined they only had one public bathroom. During the night this was locked and my pea-sized bladder mixed with the numerous ciders we tried out didn't mix well. Not once, not twice, but three times that night I was forced to find a creative place to put my urine. The first was a stone decoration in the hotel. The second was a found beer bottle. The third was a bottle of cider. Success.
On Sunday, Roger and Tiff decided we should go to Glendalough, a mountain-like area. We went on a 10 km hike, with a 250 m climb. Which was exercising, considering I had all of my belongings on my back, but well worth it. However, on the bus ride home, adversity struck again in its old guise of the need to urinate. We weren't close to Dublin and I had to burst so Roger chugged my water for me and I steadily deposited my wasteful liquid into the water bottle. Roger tried to look out the window holding in his laughter and trying to not make it painfully obvious what was going on. He reported that the people behind me awoke and immediately figured out what was going on and looked horrified.
Also, I'll be at the Haverford apartments this summer doing math research, staying with Mr. Ralston and Mr. Kaszubski; for those interested.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Europe
So, these past three weeks was greater than I could have ever imagined, probably the greatest three weeks of my life. There are so many things I want to recall, and try to make humor out of, and try to explain, but I'm just going to give something of a synopsis of the trip. I went from Copenhagen to London, Oxford, London, Rome, Florence, Vienna, Prague, Berlin, Hilversum (technically), Amsterdam, Paris, Cologne and then back to Copenhagen today.
London - I went to London with my program which was a two-sided coin. It was a positive because experiences like seeing Chicago, eating at great restaurants and travel was all paid for. Bad because there was limited freedom and it felt too much like a school trip. All in all London was a great place. Upon first arriving I noticed how cheap I thought things were which made me realize how absurdly expensive Copenhagen is. Seeing Josh again also sent a chill through my body. When we met up, I couldn't help but throw the bags I had in my hand upon running to him. One of these bags had a friend's new "Mind the Gap" mug in it. Apparently I'm bad with reunions because when I saw Rosie I ran up to the door that separated us and for humor purposes hit my face against the window and split my lip and made my teeth hurt.
Oxford - Beautiful, bleh. Beautiful campuses, bleh. I couldn't see living in Oxford for an extended period of time without becoming a lifelong premature ejaculator.
Rome - Seeing Christian made Rome great, and the hours spent in his kitchen having long meals and drinking wine and making his roommate uncomfortable really made me miss Haverford in an unexpected way. I had a lot of fun in Rome, but as a city I couldn't help but dislike it. Half of it was cheap tourism and the other half was a gaggle of self-involved Romans.
I'm sorry I can't do this post anymore this way, it's too boring. For me, for you and I feel like I'm cheapening each city.
On my last day in Cologne I sat in a park on what seemed like Cologne's first spring day and rated each of the big 8 places we went: London, Rome, Vienna, Prague, Berlin, Amsterdam, Paris, Florence on 7 categories, the first two worth double. I then summed up the totals. Here it is:
Best Time (2x):
Vienna
Amsterdam
Rome
London
Prague
Paris
Berlin
Florence
Livable (2x):
Vienna
Berlin
Amsterdam
London
Paris
Prague
Florence
Rome
Girls Attractiveness (and similarly probably Guy Attractiveness as well):
Paris
Berlin
Vienna
Rome
Amsterdam
London
Florence
Every Other City to Ever Exist
Prague
Least Touristy (avoidance of the bad type of tourism):
Vienna
Berlin
Paris
London
Amsterdam
Florence
Prague
Rome
Affordable:
Prague
Berlin
Vienna
Rome
Amsterdam
Florence
London
Paris
(Copenhagen)
Public Transport (ease AND accessbility):
Vienna
London
Paris
Prague
Berlin
Amsterdam
Rome
Florence
X-Factor (warm feelings, etc.):
Vienna
Amsterdam
Paris
Berlin
London
Rome
Florence
Prague
TOTALS:
Vienna - 68
Berlin - 48
Amsterdam - 48
Paris - 41
London - 41
Prague - 31
Rome - 30
Florence - 17
I can't emphasize how much I loved Vienna. This is unexpected because that was the city myself and Josh were looking forward to the least I suspect. Also, the night before arriving on the night train, our cabin door became stuck and I was forced to urinate in a plastic water bottle, which is a bad omen if I've ever pissed one. Our hostel was terrific, we were able to attend an Esperanto museum, we lounged in grass enclosed by buildings built for gods, we stumbled into an indie rock performance and there stumbled into Makki (a member of an Austrian duo called Makki Und Frau Herz, which I ask you please check out on mysapce), we lounged on the Danube river and saw the river on rented motorbikes, we accidently ended up in the strip club district and came across windowed women luring us in or lazily texting while they were being paid to lure me and Josh in, went to an incredible market, went to the Opera, came across a Greco-Austrian hotel clerk in a hotel that we needed to use for watering closet purposes who was the sweetest, most charming girl two guys in Vienna could ever ask for (except for her tragically unfortunate taste in music), went out with said sweetheart and had drinks actually bought for us, had late night kebabs, begged on the street and had schnitzel. and falafel and some disarming piece of shrimp thing that Josh regrettably purchased for 1.75 euros after successfully sharing a lunch for 1.50. Whatever, you try to make one of your best life experiences funny or interesting when really you just want to keep it to yourself and overtime extrapolate and expand and emphasize until maybe it doesn't resemble what exactly you experienced but exactly what you needed to experience.
London - I went to London with my program which was a two-sided coin. It was a positive because experiences like seeing Chicago, eating at great restaurants and travel was all paid for. Bad because there was limited freedom and it felt too much like a school trip. All in all London was a great place. Upon first arriving I noticed how cheap I thought things were which made me realize how absurdly expensive Copenhagen is. Seeing Josh again also sent a chill through my body. When we met up, I couldn't help but throw the bags I had in my hand upon running to him. One of these bags had a friend's new "Mind the Gap" mug in it. Apparently I'm bad with reunions because when I saw Rosie I ran up to the door that separated us and for humor purposes hit my face against the window and split my lip and made my teeth hurt.
Oxford - Beautiful, bleh. Beautiful campuses, bleh. I couldn't see living in Oxford for an extended period of time without becoming a lifelong premature ejaculator.
Rome - Seeing Christian made Rome great, and the hours spent in his kitchen having long meals and drinking wine and making his roommate uncomfortable really made me miss Haverford in an unexpected way. I had a lot of fun in Rome, but as a city I couldn't help but dislike it. Half of it was cheap tourism and the other half was a gaggle of self-involved Romans.
I'm sorry I can't do this post anymore this way, it's too boring. For me, for you and I feel like I'm cheapening each city.
On my last day in Cologne I sat in a park on what seemed like Cologne's first spring day and rated each of the big 8 places we went: London, Rome, Vienna, Prague, Berlin, Amsterdam, Paris, Florence on 7 categories, the first two worth double. I then summed up the totals. Here it is:
Best Time (2x):
Vienna
Amsterdam
Rome
London
Prague
Paris
Berlin
Florence
Livable (2x):
Vienna
Berlin
Amsterdam
London
Paris
Prague
Florence
Rome
Girls Attractiveness (and similarly probably Guy Attractiveness as well):
Paris
Berlin
Vienna
Rome
Amsterdam
London
Florence
Every Other City to Ever Exist
Prague
Least Touristy (avoidance of the bad type of tourism):
Vienna
Berlin
Paris
London
Amsterdam
Florence
Prague
Rome
Affordable:
Prague
Berlin
Vienna
Rome
Amsterdam
Florence
London
Paris
(Copenhagen)
Public Transport (ease AND accessbility):
Vienna
London
Paris
Prague
Berlin
Amsterdam
Rome
Florence
X-Factor (warm feelings, etc.):
Vienna
Amsterdam
Paris
Berlin
London
Rome
Florence
Prague
TOTALS:
Vienna - 68
Berlin - 48
Amsterdam - 48
Paris - 41
London - 41
Prague - 31
Rome - 30
Florence - 17
I can't emphasize how much I loved Vienna. This is unexpected because that was the city myself and Josh were looking forward to the least I suspect. Also, the night before arriving on the night train, our cabin door became stuck and I was forced to urinate in a plastic water bottle, which is a bad omen if I've ever pissed one. Our hostel was terrific, we were able to attend an Esperanto museum, we lounged in grass enclosed by buildings built for gods, we stumbled into an indie rock performance and there stumbled into Makki (a member of an Austrian duo called Makki Und Frau Herz, which I ask you please check out on mysapce), we lounged on the Danube river and saw the river on rented motorbikes, we accidently ended up in the strip club district and came across windowed women luring us in or lazily texting while they were being paid to lure me and Josh in, went to an incredible market, went to the Opera, came across a Greco-Austrian hotel clerk in a hotel that we needed to use for watering closet purposes who was the sweetest, most charming girl two guys in Vienna could ever ask for (except for her tragically unfortunate taste in music), went out with said sweetheart and had drinks actually bought for us, had late night kebabs, begged on the street and had schnitzel. and falafel and some disarming piece of shrimp thing that Josh regrettably purchased for 1.75 euros after successfully sharing a lunch for 1.50. Whatever, you try to make one of your best life experiences funny or interesting when really you just want to keep it to yourself and overtime extrapolate and expand and emphasize until maybe it doesn't resemble what exactly you experienced but exactly what you needed to experience.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Hiatus and Itinerary
Tomorrow marks the beginning of my spring break, meaning a deep hiatus on the blog. It's possible I might leave a post like ''in Prague, still alive'' or ''human trafficked to Libya, still alive'' but this will most likely be my last post for more than three weeks. It would be an understatement to say that I am looking forward to these next three weeks, as I will more than double the countries I've been to. I hope to look back on these next three weeks with great nostalgia.
My Itinerary:
March 22
Flight from Copenhagen to London
See Josh Mikutis for the first time in months and subsequent jumping up and down in each other's arms
March 25
Bus or Train from London to Oxford
March 27
Train from Oxford to London
See Josh Mikutis for the first time in days and subsequent jumping up and down in each other's arms
March 28
Flight with Josh from London to Rome, assuming RyanAir allows us to get on the plane
Greet Christian. Notice his impressive goatee. I make a passing comment about it and he laughs it off, but then aggressively holds eye contact for a split second too long.
March 30
Day trip to Florence, Train
April 1
Overnight train from Rome to Vienna
April 3
Train from Vienna to Prague
April 6, maybe April 7
Train from Prague to Berlin
April 10
Train from Berlin to Amsterdam
April 13
Arrive in Copenhagen, with Josh hopefully
Thus ends my spring break travels.
However,
April 14
Parents come to Copenhagen, shocked by my goatee. Dad makes a passing comment about my goatee and I take this opportunity to tell them about it while aggressively holding eye contact.
April 17
Dublin with Roger and Tiffany
April 29
Athens to see Rosie and Lily
May 17
Back to the States
My Itinerary:
March 22
Flight from Copenhagen to London
See Josh Mikutis for the first time in months and subsequent jumping up and down in each other's arms
March 25
Bus or Train from London to Oxford
March 27
Train from Oxford to London
See Josh Mikutis for the first time in days and subsequent jumping up and down in each other's arms
March 28
Flight with Josh from London to Rome, assuming RyanAir allows us to get on the plane
Greet Christian. Notice his impressive goatee. I make a passing comment about it and he laughs it off, but then aggressively holds eye contact for a split second too long.
March 30
Day trip to Florence, Train
April 1
Overnight train from Rome to Vienna
April 3
Train from Vienna to Prague
April 6, maybe April 7
Train from Prague to Berlin
April 10
Train from Berlin to Amsterdam
April 13
Arrive in Copenhagen, with Josh hopefully
Thus ends my spring break travels.
However,
April 14
Parents come to Copenhagen, shocked by my goatee. Dad makes a passing comment about my goatee and I take this opportunity to tell them about it while aggressively holding eye contact.
April 17
Dublin with Roger and Tiffany
April 29
Athens to see Rosie and Lily
May 17
Back to the States
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Something is Hoppin' in the State of Denmark
Something is Hoppin’ in the State of Denmark
note: submitted to Last Word, should be printed on Tuesday
By Andrew Ian Lipstein
note: submitted to Last Word, should be printed on Tuesday
I’m currently abroad. In the state of Denmark, in Copenhagen. Yes, that Copenhagen.
One of the best parts of Copenhagen is the never ending nightlife. Never ending isn’t a figure of speech. You see old men drinking 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Whether it’s a Carlsberg or a Cult Shaker (an alcoholic Red Bull), they are just drinking, staring into space, living the dream.
But what is the night nightlife like? Breathtaking. Everything I dreamed it to be. And I’m going to help you experience it right along with me, every step of the way.
So, I took my pad and paper and catalogued this past weekend, in Copenhagen, the city of herring and Hans Christian Andersen.
Friday Night
9:30 – Finished my meal of liverpaste (self-explanatory) and brunette child parts (why do you think there are only blondes?). I arrange to meet my Danish friends to pregame. This consists of drinking what the Danes call ‘’liquid cocaine,’’ because it’s seltzer water mixed with powder cocaine. I make sure to keep my pinky out when I’m downing the liquid. Any other way is frowned upon.
9:34 – I can’t feel my face and start to vomit profusely. I may or may not have seen god.
8:02, in the morning – I wake up in Copenhagen Hospital. Thank god for universal healthcare. They had to pump my stomach three times and replace the blood in my body, but I’m just happy to be alive.
Saturday Night
9:30, at night – Finally released from the hospital. Finished my meal of herringpaste (self-explanatory) and non-beautiful child parts (why do you think all Danes are beautiful?). I arrange to meet my Danish friends to pregame. This consists of me saying ‘’nej tak,’’ or ‘’no thank you’’ to their offers of ‘’liquid cocaine.’’ I feel so American turning down this offer, but I lost twenty pounds worth of vomit and replaced blood, so tonight I’m going to take it easy.
10:30 – We get to the club, it’s called ‘’Wienørlæxxx’’ or ‘’Luck of the Wiener,’’ in Danish. It’s also a pun in Danish because of some H.C. Andersen fairy tale, I don’t know. Apparently this is where Hans himself took his first Jager Bomb (and his last, if you know what I mean, ha!). So. The club was pretty good, but I’m not really feeling it because it’s literally just us and about ten Turkish men drinking Cult Shakers and staring into space. I tell me friends I want to check out some other clubs. They tell me to chill till 11:30, when all Danes hit up the clubs. I’m a little doubtful, but I wait it out. They also tell me to go up to the bartender and order something called a ‘’Little Mermaid.’’ They promise me it has no powdered cocaine. I’m in. It kind of tastes like Christianade, but sweeter.
11:30, and five Little Mermaid’ s later – I can’t really see straight and the club is still empty but as the clock strikes 11:30, literally sixty blonde Danes walk in the room and start licking my ankles. For some reason I think of Josh Mikutis. We start dancing and my moves are so crisp that three of them become pregnant. My moves are fresh and they’ve never seen anything like it. My hips are tiny dancers, moving to their own beats.
11:45 – The club is now packed. One of my friends gets it out that I’m American and before I know it, the whole club is talking to me and awaiting every syllable that leaves my mouth. Everything I say is golden. I ask what time it is and someone says ‘’23:45’’ to which I reply ‘’don’t you mean, 11:45?’’ and they eat it up. Everybody is in hysterics, rubbing my knees, flicking my earlobes and licking my ankles more. The entire club may or may not be under the influence of ecstasy.
3:35 – Everyone is still surrounding me, asking questions. Normally I would be tired at this point but I’m thriving off of the energy. ‘’Do you know Shaquille O’Neal?’’ one asks. I say I don’t and they love it. They fucking love it. All of a sudden someone brings out a basketball hoop and asks me to dunk. I’m nervous because I’m 5’9’’ but then I realize the hoop is quite small. Because Danes are so tall it is considered impressive to dunk on a hoop as short as possible. Their regulation hoop is 6 feet high. I do windmills, 360s and backhanded dunks. They cheer and laugh and giggle. The queen is apparently there. And she is impressed. She offers a congratulatory shot of liquid cocaine. I politely decline. The entire crowd becomes quiet. This is apparently not only an insult to the queen but the whole state of Denmark. I feel terrible so I down the liquid cocaine.
9:17 – I wake up in Copenhagen Hospital. I definitely saw god last night.
One of the best parts of Copenhagen is the never ending nightlife. Never ending isn’t a figure of speech. You see old men drinking 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Whether it’s a Carlsberg or a Cult Shaker (an alcoholic Red Bull), they are just drinking, staring into space, living the dream.
But what is the night nightlife like? Breathtaking. Everything I dreamed it to be. And I’m going to help you experience it right along with me, every step of the way.
So, I took my pad and paper and catalogued this past weekend, in Copenhagen, the city of herring and Hans Christian Andersen.
Friday Night
9:30 – Finished my meal of liverpaste (self-explanatory) and brunette child parts (why do you think there are only blondes?). I arrange to meet my Danish friends to pregame. This consists of drinking what the Danes call ‘’liquid cocaine,’’ because it’s seltzer water mixed with powder cocaine. I make sure to keep my pinky out when I’m downing the liquid. Any other way is frowned upon.
9:34 – I can’t feel my face and start to vomit profusely. I may or may not have seen god.
8:02, in the morning – I wake up in Copenhagen Hospital. Thank god for universal healthcare. They had to pump my stomach three times and replace the blood in my body, but I’m just happy to be alive.
Saturday Night
9:30, at night – Finally released from the hospital. Finished my meal of herringpaste (self-explanatory) and non-beautiful child parts (why do you think all Danes are beautiful?). I arrange to meet my Danish friends to pregame. This consists of me saying ‘’nej tak,’’ or ‘’no thank you’’ to their offers of ‘’liquid cocaine.’’ I feel so American turning down this offer, but I lost twenty pounds worth of vomit and replaced blood, so tonight I’m going to take it easy.
10:30 – We get to the club, it’s called ‘’Wienørlæxxx’’ or ‘’Luck of the Wiener,’’ in Danish. It’s also a pun in Danish because of some H.C. Andersen fairy tale, I don’t know. Apparently this is where Hans himself took his first Jager Bomb (and his last, if you know what I mean, ha!). So. The club was pretty good, but I’m not really feeling it because it’s literally just us and about ten Turkish men drinking Cult Shakers and staring into space. I tell me friends I want to check out some other clubs. They tell me to chill till 11:30, when all Danes hit up the clubs. I’m a little doubtful, but I wait it out. They also tell me to go up to the bartender and order something called a ‘’Little Mermaid.’’ They promise me it has no powdered cocaine. I’m in. It kind of tastes like Christianade, but sweeter.
11:30, and five Little Mermaid’ s later – I can’t really see straight and the club is still empty but as the clock strikes 11:30, literally sixty blonde Danes walk in the room and start licking my ankles. For some reason I think of Josh Mikutis. We start dancing and my moves are so crisp that three of them become pregnant. My moves are fresh and they’ve never seen anything like it. My hips are tiny dancers, moving to their own beats.
11:45 – The club is now packed. One of my friends gets it out that I’m American and before I know it, the whole club is talking to me and awaiting every syllable that leaves my mouth. Everything I say is golden. I ask what time it is and someone says ‘’23:45’’ to which I reply ‘’don’t you mean, 11:45?’’ and they eat it up. Everybody is in hysterics, rubbing my knees, flicking my earlobes and licking my ankles more. The entire club may or may not be under the influence of ecstasy.
3:35 – Everyone is still surrounding me, asking questions. Normally I would be tired at this point but I’m thriving off of the energy. ‘’Do you know Shaquille O’Neal?’’ one asks. I say I don’t and they love it. They fucking love it. All of a sudden someone brings out a basketball hoop and asks me to dunk. I’m nervous because I’m 5’9’’ but then I realize the hoop is quite small. Because Danes are so tall it is considered impressive to dunk on a hoop as short as possible. Their regulation hoop is 6 feet high. I do windmills, 360s and backhanded dunks. They cheer and laugh and giggle. The queen is apparently there. And she is impressed. She offers a congratulatory shot of liquid cocaine. I politely decline. The entire crowd becomes quiet. This is apparently not only an insult to the queen but the whole state of Denmark. I feel terrible so I down the liquid cocaine.
9:17 – I wake up in Copenhagen Hospital. I definitely saw god last night.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Saint Patrick's Day
This Saint Patrick's Day was the best Saint Patrick's Day I've ever had. Copenhagen is starting to bloom and there is happiness all over this town. The increasing presence of sunlight must be in charge. There is warmth and life and sex in the air. It's all over the place.
Yesterday was Tuesday (Tirsdag) so I got some Happy Tirsdag 20 Kroner Happy Meal, and it was the best Happy Meal that I've ever had. Thomas served us, and Thomas is known for being the nicest man at any McDonald's. I love Thomas! When he gives you food and interacts with you, he looks as though every second of interaction is the thing that gives him the most pleasure. He shares in the joy when you cheer and smile over the potentiality of a Cheeseburger, fries, milkshake and toy, all for 20 kroner.
After class and some honey fried chicken, Roger and myself finished his White Russian supplies, and I don't want to drink milk ever again! I used cinnamon in mine and I hate cinnamon now! A Spanish family was eating an imported leg of pig in the common room and cutting off fresh slices and we were able to try some and now I love slices of pig's legs!
We were able to get into the couple of Irish pubs in town and it was great. There was cheering and laughter and overpriced drink. I drank a 50 cl of Sommersby and now I hate Sommersby!
The highlights of the night were a failed piggy back ride, and Roger trying to run through the storefront glass of the H&M at 1 in the morning. Thankfully he was bounced back into the street and then proceeded to take a tumble in front of two nice looking American girls who seemed terrified. Roger! Also the 'nej tak's myself, Jimmy and Matt received in our Kiss Me I'm Irish pleas. I love 'nej tak's!
Yesterday was Tuesday (Tirsdag) so I got some Happy Tirsdag 20 Kroner Happy Meal, and it was the best Happy Meal that I've ever had. Thomas served us, and Thomas is known for being the nicest man at any McDonald's. I love Thomas! When he gives you food and interacts with you, he looks as though every second of interaction is the thing that gives him the most pleasure. He shares in the joy when you cheer and smile over the potentiality of a Cheeseburger, fries, milkshake and toy, all for 20 kroner.
After class and some honey fried chicken, Roger and myself finished his White Russian supplies, and I don't want to drink milk ever again! I used cinnamon in mine and I hate cinnamon now! A Spanish family was eating an imported leg of pig in the common room and cutting off fresh slices and we were able to try some and now I love slices of pig's legs!
We were able to get into the couple of Irish pubs in town and it was great. There was cheering and laughter and overpriced drink. I drank a 50 cl of Sommersby and now I hate Sommersby!
The highlights of the night were a failed piggy back ride, and Roger trying to run through the storefront glass of the H&M at 1 in the morning. Thankfully he was bounced back into the street and then proceeded to take a tumble in front of two nice looking American girls who seemed terrified. Roger! Also the 'nej tak's myself, Jimmy and Matt received in our Kiss Me I'm Irish pleas. I love 'nej tak's!
Monday, March 16, 2009
News Media in Transition, in Transition
My core class, News Media in Transition has made the transition from being annoyable terrible to being hilariously terrible. How bad the class is has brought us all together and heckling has become a team-building exercise. This is good because the program is going to London together on Sunday for a week.
Comment of the day, today, after a girl said ''what about the internet? doesn't that make this argument outdated and irrelevant?'' Eric said, in normal speaking volume, ''welcome to this class.'' Golden. I cannot wait for the study tour.
Comment of the day, today, after a girl said ''what about the internet? doesn't that make this argument outdated and irrelevant?'' Eric said, in normal speaking volume, ''welcome to this class.'' Golden. I cannot wait for the study tour.
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