What the fuck. I haven't been in the blogosphere in like, many months and, for that, I apologize because I know how much my presence has been missed: page views have been off the charts - not. Flatline. You've all killed me with your lack of love. Just kidding, I did this to myself.
Anyway! I have so much shit to fill y'all in on. Since the last time I wrote a post on this majestic blog, I have been to 5 European countries and am now residing in one. I'm not gonna say it because I don't want to get stalked. Just kidding, it's France. The point of me telling you this isn't to be like, "oh, I'm so worldly now and I only condone wearing leather jackets and high top sneakers.. Meehh," in fact, it is simply to tell you all how much WEIRD shit has happened to me, or I have witnessed since being here. I will tell my anecdotes in order of least strange to most strange, or on the scale of "public toddler urination to gypsy curses."
1. I was admiring the gorgeous architecture in central Berlin and glanced down at my arm to see two bugs fucking each other on it. I flicked those shits off but later reflected on it and decided I was actually kind of flattered. My arm screams sketchy motel hookups.
2. An elderly woman was walking down the stairs as I was walking up them
in a beautiful old castle. She must have been super excited because she
decided to skip a step and consequently fell into the wall nearest her,
ricocheted off of that wall and was making a beeline for me. My
instinct for self preservation manifested itself in me sticking my arm
out (I also hoped to save her from falling down stairs made of pure
stone). Did I save her? No. She has already semi-caught her footing and I
ended up punching this poor, old German woman directly in her chicken
cutlet breast. Needless to say I blushed and wanted to fly away like
Russel Edgington in True Blood.
3. "I just wanna go out and dance tonight!" The harmless utterance that
resulted in.. Well, you'll see. So, Wrocław, Poland has a pretty decent
nightlife and my mates (friends don't exist in Europe..) and I decided
to give it a try. Ah, the bar with the red awning looks good! Enter we
did. The bar had a nice vibe and the downstairs dance floor was pretty
decent. As the night went on and the shots started to wear off, strange
things were noticed.. Like, the portrait of Mao Zedong on the wall and
the one of Stalin opposite him. Oh, then the one of Che Guevera. Then I
began to notice that everyone was at LEAST 38-45 in this bar and all
dancing like they had no arms. As I rested on the guard rail, I observed
the fine detail work. Hmm, a sickle. Man, all of the lights in here are
red... And so was the awning. In .002838 seconds, my eyes widen, my
buzz dies like it was shot in the face, and I realize that we are in a
middle-aged Communist bar. The despicable dancing should have been the
first sign.. We left alive, un-sacrificed, and uninitiated into any sort
of underground gang.
4. To begin with, public transportation isn't my strong point. I am always clammy-handed thinking that I will end up on the wrong side of town. So, with this worry floating around in my mind, I wait for my tram. Waiting at a tram stop late at night is also not one of my favorite things to do, which is why I always pretend to be talking to someone, whether it be texting or speaking, on my phone. Not the best strategy. Noot the best strategy. I'm approached by two men. My heart's pace quickens and I get really involved in the 'text message' I'm composing, only this time I wonder if I should actually compose something - a cry for help or my will. I'm spoken to. [I'll translate the french into true English]
Guy: "Eh, j'ai besoin de ton portable" = Yo, bitch, I need your ghetto ass phone, you're not even texting anyone.
Me: "Euh.. non, je ne fume pas." = Umm, no thanks, I don't smoke. <-- me being a fucking idiot
Guy: "Non! Ton portable. Donne-moi ton portable." = No, you piece of shit, give me your phone, I wouldn't ever offer you one of my cigarettes anyway.
Me: "Uhh, non merci. Je n'ai pas de..." = Um, no thanks.. I don't have <-- me stopping myself from saying that I don't have a cellphone.. because I realized that it was in my hand.
Guy:
grabs phone from me and calls his girlfriend, then shoves it back in my hand.
Me: "Merci!" = thank you for not killing me, do you have any hand sanitizer?
See how that played out?? I was the one who ended up saying thank you! After being harassed for my phone, I said thank you; probably because I was thankful that I still had a heartbeat and that I had my phone back. Fuck. At least I got on the right tram.
5. Just chillin' in the park. Little toddler walks by with her mother and she is complaining about something ridiculous. Oh, she has to pee. Well, hold it like the rest of civilization. No. That mother was on her game and spared no time de-robing her very own daughter in public by ripping her frilly tutu off. Then, something happened that looked way too well rehearsed: the mother lifted the child up so that the child's back was against the mother's stomach and her legs were in stirrup position. What ensued, I have not words to describe. Shameless, the child exploded a stream of pee that made Niagra Falls blush. It went on for a solid 25-30 seconds, too. This little girl was not kidding. Tutu was pulled back on, scooter was remounted and off they went into the sunset.
6. Waiting to pay for a delicious dinner of mystery-meat dumplings in Poland, a pregnant gypsy and her son began to approach my group's table. Let me say,
dis ain't no Esmerelda. She looked like she had just crawled out of Katy Perry's garbage can, if that helps you visualize her. I immediately girded my loins and felt for my wallet in my pocket. It was there. She would have to cross many a boundary to get to it, however, I felt that she wouldn't object to violating me. Her squinty eyes scanned our table and then, of course, because my life is a joke, the kid next to me, who has decided to pay with nearly all coins, drops them ALL on the ground. Her tongue flicks and she whips her head in our direction. "Jesus, pick it up!" I say, keeping my eye on the gypsy kid, I can tell he's already a swift thief. Phew, all the coins have been picked up and the gypsy slows her pace. All is well until HE DROPS EVERYTHING AGAIN. This time, the gypsy screeches and throws her hands in the air and her son turns into the devil and runs straight for me. At least, that's how it went down in my head. He picked up the coins again, this time in the nick of time, as the gypsy rounds our table. She then murmurs some ugly words and makes some hand motions in our direction, the whole time, her stare unwavering. And that was the day I was presumably cursed by a gypsy.
These are just some of my stories and I'm more than certain that more will come.. Until next time!
