Saturday, January 29, 2005
Boulevard of Broken Dreams
I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me
and I walk alone
I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps and I'm the only one
and I walk alone,
I walk alone, I walk alone,
I walk alone, I walk a...
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone
Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Aaah-ah,Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah
I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line
Of the edge and where I walk alone
Read between the lines
What's fucked up and everything's alright
Check my vital signs
To know I'm still alive and I walk alone
I walk alone, I walk alone
I walk alone, I walk a...
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone
Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Aaah-ahAh-ah, Ah-ah
I walk alone, I walk a...
(Break it down the only way you can)
I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk a...
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone...
Thank you Green Day for:
A) Sticking around through the years with integrity and simplicity
B) Gtting it right every time
And most importantly...C) knowing just when I need you to explain it better than I can.
I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me
and I walk alone
I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps and I'm the only one
and I walk alone,
I walk alone, I walk alone,
I walk alone, I walk a...
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone
Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Aaah-ah,Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah
I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line
Of the edge and where I walk alone
Read between the lines
What's fucked up and everything's alright
Check my vital signs
To know I'm still alive and I walk alone
I walk alone, I walk alone
I walk alone, I walk a...
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone
Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Aaah-ahAh-ah, Ah-ah
I walk alone, I walk a...
(Break it down the only way you can)
I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk a...
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone...
Thank you Green Day for:
A) Sticking around through the years with integrity and simplicity
B) Gtting it right every time
And most importantly...C) knowing just when I need you to explain it better than I can.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
| It’s a Small World Afterall
My friend Ian came into the office today to tell me the most hilarious story. Ian went on a blind date via Match.com last week. When he showed up at the restaurant, he met a guy named Ahmad. Ahmad and Ian had dinner together and during the meal Ahmad asked Ian where he worked. When Ian told him of his past places of employment, Ahmad’s mouth dropped open. “Do you know Joe CuttheShit?” Ian bugged when Ahmad explained that he and I used to date awhile back. UM! How is it even possible that in a city full of 8 million people, one guy I hooked up with would have a date with another guy I hooked up with? They talked all about me at dinner and both became so weirded out by the experience that they decided one date was enough for them. I can’t BELIEVE that this has happened. Of all the crazy shit…this has to take the cake. In other news, I have the worst headache today and my stomach feels like a piece of shit. In fact, I just farted so ghastly that Ari should be counting her lucky stars that she’s not here to enjoy it. Hm. That’s it. |
Friday, January 21, 2005
| Have a great weekend everyone!
|
Thursday, January 20, 2005
| Paul and Ashlee
As most of you know, I’ve been having a really rough go over the past week or so. It’s been very difficult to even crack a smile. But last night, Paul surprised me by getting out of work early and we just partied and partied and had the best time together. He had me laughing so hard and we talked about some very important things that are going on in my life. He was uncharacteristically supportive and was able to remove himself from the situation to give me some excellent and much needed advice. When you feel like you don’t have a friend in the world, it makes an incredible difference to be moved so deeply by the one you love the most; the one you call your boyfriend. I was up way too late, but woke up today in the best mood. I needed a night like last night so badly. Today, I couldn’t have a care in the world. And it’s all because of Paul. In fact, he just called me to say one thing “I love being with you more than anyone else. I just love you so much.” And I love you too Paul. Another reason why my day rocks is because Ari clued me in to the best thing EVER posted on the internet. If you haven’t had the luxury of signing the Stop Ashlee Simpson petition, get on it! For everyone’s sake, you must sign this petition (I can't post the link, cuz blogger keeps on fucking up, but just go to Google and type in "Stop Ashlee Simpson Petition" and you'll be just fine). During some down time at work, I decided to go through the petition and find some of my favorite quotes left by other Ashlee haters. Most of the comments are identical: “Stop singing”, “I hate you”, “You ride on your sister’s coattails and you suck”. But some of the comments were truly original and hilarious. For example: Rob says: “Ashlee Simpson needs to embrace the mantra ‘Less singing, more suicide’”. Ian Harker says: “She is horrible – some village is missing their idiot”. Alex Tat says: “Pieces of lame is more like it” – I mean…HILARIOUS use of the word lame. Then there are the comments that come directly from the Simpson entourage: Ryan Cabrera: “Sorry guys, I tried to stop her”. Jessica Simpson: “I hate you Ashlee, u swallow”. Joe Simpson: “Stop singing so I can fuck you.” The comments that made me shit myself with laughter sometimes have nothing to do with Ashlee at all: Bukkake Von Kunt says: “You are gayer than my friend Steve”. Zorn says: “Strossus is a fag”. Bob Carnifax: “I like to work on cars.” Count Dracula says: “I like to eat pussy when it’s nice and red…discharging hot bloody fish-smelling bacteria pus-like trichomonas vaginitis…mmmmm vaginitis.” But the funniest comments to me are the following: Sfd says: “her nose is weird”. Jeni says: “I hope you burn and die with a pencil in your butthole and love in your heart.” Dirty Sanchez says: “Ashlee likes the dirty Sanchez”. Jared Smith says: “Unmitigated douchebaggery”. Dick Gazina says: “I think she should introduce her manhood to everyone.” Man…this petition has totally made my day! If you have a free second, do your part to end the Ashlee Simpson monster that is destroying the habitat AND the humanity. Eventually she will go to sleep, but how soon and for how long is up to you. Have a fantastic day all! And may it be “LALA” free! |
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
| Tid-Bites, er…bitties…er Tit Bids
For today’s post, I have two really quick stories. 1) Last night when Paul got home, he told me that a friend of ours (Steven) had left him a message on his voicemail. Steven is a friend of Paul’s (and mine too) from when we lived in Boston. The kid is just great and he’s in this really awesome band and we just adore his little face. Anyway, Steven leaves a message that asks this question “Is your middle name Paul and is Joe’s middle name Joe?” Cuz you see…my real name is not Joe. And Paul’s real name is not Paul. But somehow, we think that Steven found my journal and was referring to it in the message. So if you’re out there and reading this Steven…HI! And hahahaha…get out of here! I write about sick gay shit. Ah geez…I’m getting too big for my britches with this journal. 2) Two weeks ago, I went to see my friend, Ingrid, at the Bitter End. It was her cd release party. Ingrid was absolutely fantastic and I’m already rocking out to her CD on my ipod. In any case, when we walked into the bar, I saw someone I recognized, but couldn’t place the name. I started freaking out to Kelly and Angie that she was there, but I couldn’t remember why I knew her. Then it hit me! Do any of you watch MTV’s Boiling Point? It’s totally lame, but I totally love it. Anywhiz…I realized that the girl I saw was from the show. Her name is Missy. I ran immediately over to her and was like “Are you from Boiling Points, cuz I LOVE you?!” She was incredibly sweet and we talked for a few minutes. (Side note…when I told Paul about the encounter, he asked me if I tried to get in good with her so I could be on the show…oh Paul) Then ten minutes later, another cast member from Boiling Points walked in. Of course I immediately ran over and smothered her with love too. I’m not usually one to go on and on about seeing celebs…but when I meet someone that is on a smallish show that no one knows about, it makes me totally excited to go up and tell them how amazing they are. Long live MTV’S Boiling Points! Also…another friend of mine was on the show a couple months ago. So clearly Boiling Points is the focus of my NYC life. That’s it for today. Just a quickie about the irony that is Joe Cutthesnores. |
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
As of Late
Thank you to everyone who offered up some support to me over the weekend. Rather than writing back to all of the different emails, I figured that I would just do a post. Isn’t that totally bullshit? But I know you’ll understand. You ALWAYS understand. Cuz you can’t talk back.
Last week, I got some horrible news. At first I was very shaken up and it was one of those moments when your life stops dead in its tracks and you think “How can I fix this? How am I EVER going to make this better?” Everything kind of went into slo-mo for about 15 minutes and after a quiet cigarette to myself, I was able to put my life back into perspective and come up with a game plan. Life is impossible without a game plan, dontcha think?
The hardest part about what went down was that I felt (and still feel) as though I can’t talk to anyone about it. It’s more of a trust issue than anything else. Initially, I got a very bad response from some of my close friends and that just amplified the problem tenfold. That’s always the worst. When you have something terrible happen in your life, it’s the people you trust and need that have the capability of making it all better. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen and it just seems to get uglier with every passing day.
Ever since I got back from Europe, I’ve felt extremely lonely and as though I need to start over in many facets of my life. Too many people lean on me for one thing or another and it’s become increasingly exhausting. In fact, this kind of hand-holding has sapped me of my energy and with the hand-holding not being reciprocated when I need it, it’s just overwhelmingly sad and frustrating. Hence, a need for a major change.
After taking the weekend to do things that were out of my character, I feel a bit better. I fear change and in many ways, I run away from it, but when everything is looking bleak, sometimes change is the only answer that really works. For a long time I’ve been letting certain things hold me back from what I really want to do in this city. It will take me awhile before my feet have landed on solid ground, but until then, it just feels good to be working towards a necessary goal.
My friend, Angie, has been giving me some excellent advice and has been checking up on me every day with supportive things for me to hear and do. I’m ever so grateful to her for not only understanding my need for space, but for encouraging it and nurturing it every step of the way. Having been through similar circumstances as myself, Angie knows just what to do and say once the ball gets dropped. When all the world feels like a desolate place to live, it is refreshing to have that hand to hold.
Luckily I have a very busy week ahead of me. I find that when I’m busy, I’m not thinking about my personal shit as much. It’s hard to get out of bed in the morning, but once I do it, I feel like I can conquer the day.
I hope that this post will in some way make up for my lack of personal emails. My job is a hectic nightmare this week, so it will just have to do.
Keep on keepin on!
Thank you to everyone who offered up some support to me over the weekend. Rather than writing back to all of the different emails, I figured that I would just do a post. Isn’t that totally bullshit? But I know you’ll understand. You ALWAYS understand. Cuz you can’t talk back.
Last week, I got some horrible news. At first I was very shaken up and it was one of those moments when your life stops dead in its tracks and you think “How can I fix this? How am I EVER going to make this better?” Everything kind of went into slo-mo for about 15 minutes and after a quiet cigarette to myself, I was able to put my life back into perspective and come up with a game plan. Life is impossible without a game plan, dontcha think?
The hardest part about what went down was that I felt (and still feel) as though I can’t talk to anyone about it. It’s more of a trust issue than anything else. Initially, I got a very bad response from some of my close friends and that just amplified the problem tenfold. That’s always the worst. When you have something terrible happen in your life, it’s the people you trust and need that have the capability of making it all better. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen and it just seems to get uglier with every passing day.
Ever since I got back from Europe, I’ve felt extremely lonely and as though I need to start over in many facets of my life. Too many people lean on me for one thing or another and it’s become increasingly exhausting. In fact, this kind of hand-holding has sapped me of my energy and with the hand-holding not being reciprocated when I need it, it’s just overwhelmingly sad and frustrating. Hence, a need for a major change.
After taking the weekend to do things that were out of my character, I feel a bit better. I fear change and in many ways, I run away from it, but when everything is looking bleak, sometimes change is the only answer that really works. For a long time I’ve been letting certain things hold me back from what I really want to do in this city. It will take me awhile before my feet have landed on solid ground, but until then, it just feels good to be working towards a necessary goal.
My friend, Angie, has been giving me some excellent advice and has been checking up on me every day with supportive things for me to hear and do. I’m ever so grateful to her for not only understanding my need for space, but for encouraging it and nurturing it every step of the way. Having been through similar circumstances as myself, Angie knows just what to do and say once the ball gets dropped. When all the world feels like a desolate place to live, it is refreshing to have that hand to hold.
Luckily I have a very busy week ahead of me. I find that when I’m busy, I’m not thinking about my personal shit as much. It’s hard to get out of bed in the morning, but once I do it, I feel like I can conquer the day.
I hope that this post will in some way make up for my lack of personal emails. My job is a hectic nightmare this week, so it will just have to do.
Keep on keepin on!
Friday, January 14, 2005
| Last week...amazing.
This week...terrible. Next week...somewhere in between? |
Monday, January 10, 2005
My 5 Year Anniversary with Paul
I can’t possibly believe that Paul and I have been together for 5 years. I didn’t even have my first boyfriend until I was 21. That’s a year before I met Paul. Then I go and meet my “Poops” and he and I end up being together ever since. I mean, sure we’ve had a ton of obstacles over the last five years and have even broken up for a week or two here and there. But when it came down to it, we’ve stuck by each other’s sides and continue to delve further into our relationship.
We started off our day yesterday with Paul making me breakfast in bed. It was honestly the best breakfast too and I laugh as I think about it. Paul and I have wanted breakfast pizza for quite some time. So yesterday he whips up a bacon, egg, and cheese concoction that made me want to puke when I looked at it (I responded by making obnoxious gagging noises over and over). However, after taking a tentative bite, I housed the rest of it. I’m talking HOUSED and I’m talking the rest of it.
After eating, we lay in bed together and cuddled and talked for a couple of hours. Paul has this way of making me laugh from the very gutter of my bowels. Ok, that sounded sick, but it’s the only way to illustrate how deeply and hard he makes me laugh. We also wrestle quite a bit and are constantly putting freezing cold things on each other’s warm skin. This usually results in a loud yelp and then 20 minutes of giggling fits.
Around 4pm we got in the shower and put on some nice clothes and headed out to see Slavas Snow Show. Paul had wanted to see this show, so I bought us front row tickets for our anniversary. We arrived just in time and took our seats. The first half of the show was kind of lame and we were both rather bored. While smoking our cigarette during intermission, we debated leaving, as we’ve been known to do in the past. Something inside us told us to stay though, so we took our seats and tried desperately to get through Act 2.
Act 2 wasn’t bad, just very much full of clowns and I don’t think he and I are clown lovers. But then, it came – the coolest and most shocking finale I’ve ever seen on a stage! My favorite magazine in the world, Entertainment Weekly gave the show an “A” and went ON and ON about the finale. Whatever EW says is just plain TRUTH in my book.
You see, what happened was, this clown, Slava, was doing clown-like things as it started to snow (tiny pieces of paper) in the theatre. There was a lot of “snow” during the show, so we weren’t totally impressed by that. Still slowly, Slava changed the set so that it looked like a full moon on a cold winter’s night. More snow fell. Then the music stopped and everything was silent.
Out of nowhere, the walls on the back of the stage BURST OPEN and 300 tons of snow came flying right in our faces! BRIGHT LIGHTS, LOUD MUSIC, A BLIZZARD! It was a HUGE snow storm and the force of the wind and snow was so intense that I couldn’t even open my eyes. The old lady that was sitting next to Paul screamed for five straight minutes. I know I’m not doing it justice in describing it to you and that sucks. Cuz really, the finale of Slavas Snow Show was the coolest and scariest and most shocking thing that I ever done saw! And it hurt!
When the show ended, they bounced around these ginormous balls into the audience and everyone cheered and cheered. Paul and I stood up and we were COVERED from head to toe with “snow”. Of course there was a standing ovation and when we all left the theatre, it was the fucking funniest thing I have ever seen. The crowd from the show piled out into the street leaving a huge trail of fake snow behind us. This morning, Paul and I were STILL picking pieces of paper out of hair and ass cracks. It was nuts!
When we got home, we ordered from our new favorite restaurant downtown. I ate so much that my ass burst open this morning and punished me for a good twenty minutes. The end of our night was excellent…I mean Desperate Housewives…how can you go wrong? I’m sorry, but that Marcia Cross. Someone give that bitch an award! If she ran for president, I would vote for her in a second. Then again, I would vote for a pile of shit before I would ever cast a vote for one of the Bush’s.
I’m very much in love with Paul and I’m learning that I’m even more in love with the wonderful friendship we’ve got going. He has learned so much about me over the past 5 years and it is safe to say that he is my number one person on this planet. I’ve never loved so hard, I’ve never needed someone so badly, and I’ve never looked more forward to the future.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Proud to be an American
Here I am! Did you all miss me? Did you think I would come back speaking German and only eating schnitzel? Did you think that I decided to go the route of most Europeans and cut my hair into a faux hawk? Well, I didn’t quite do that, but I did come back a little changed. For example, I think I gained 36 pounds by eating my face off in every country I visited. I also think my liver is about ready to crawl out of my ass and flush itself down the toilet. I mean, when a carafe of wine is cheaper than a can of soda, you’d be STUPID not to guzzle it at every meal. But I am getting ahead of myself. I had the most amazing time of my life. Sure, there were moments when I thought “Is this ever going to end?”, but those moments were few and far between and I think I did a good job of keeping up with all of the walking, bus riding, metro taking, and non-stop airplane flying that I had to do in the last 10 days.
First we went to Germany to spend Christmas with my brother and his girlfriend. My brother’s apartment is in Idar-Oberstein and of course it is one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever seen. Spiral staircase leading to the second floor? Two bathrooms? If he hadn’t been in Iraq for 18 months, I’d surely be a jealous, but ever so cute, monster. While in the land of Deutch we took a day trip to Trier to see the Christmas festivals and to eat doners (doners rhymes with boners and that made me love them even more) and of course, schnitzels. The weather was warm, but I found the people to be a little bit cold. Germany’s countryside is beautiful; replete with rolling hills and dark green grass. The people on the other hand were pretty…how do you say...unattractive? However, for the duration of my trip, I think I only saw about 3 overweight people (myself not included). Yet every time we would run into an American, they would be shoving their face with McDonalds and slobbering all over themselves. So we may be a pretty country, but we are surely a fatter country. Christmas itself was wonderful. It took us five hours to open up all of the presents that were under the tree. Tears were shed and hearts warmed and Paul told me that it was “by far the best Christmas he has ever had”. In one special moment, my mom gave Paul this tiny framed picture that used to belong to my beloved and dearly departed Gramma. I’ve never seen Paul so emotionally moved by a gift in my life. On the flip side, I got an ipod (finally), a new digi (digital camera for you lamos), a Gucci watch, tickets to Hairspray, and various other fantastic items. And when I say fantastic, I mean a karaoke machine! ROCK! Anyone want to come over for a solo performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?
My brother has a dog that is the size of a gorilla, so while I loved being around an animal again, I found myself being pinned to the floor and humped at every turn. Also, we had the best tasting ham for dinner on Christmas, but I didn’t realize at the time that it would be a foreshadowing of all of the ham I would be chowing on for the rest of the week. Everywhere we went we somehow ended up eating ham. Ham sandwiches, ham kabobs, ham cordon blue, ham jello. It was all very hammy.
As all of you should know, the tsunamis hit the day after Christmas and considering that the only American television station that we could get was CNN International, I watched hours and hours and hours of horrifying footage of all of the poor victims of this tragedy. I am still recovering from the horror of it all. Very VERY sad and it made the whole vacation seem that much more fragile and important.
On the Monday after Christmas, Paul and I flew to Barcelona. What a trip that was. MY GOD I LOVE BARCELONA! Well, to be honest, when we first arrived at our hostel, I sat down on the bed and cried. I was so intimidated and overwhelmed by the whole experience and I just wanted to come home; culture shock to the extreme. Paul immediately sat down and put his arm around me. “I know how you feel Joe. It’s how I felt when I left the country for the first time. It will get easier and I’ll be here to take care of everything for you.” It was shortly after that that we had the best sex of our relationship. Well, maybe not the BEST, but my dick was surely chaffed after that experience.
Whilst in Barcelona, Paul and I ate out at Gay restaurants and met some really nice (but not very cute) gay people. We had drinks with them and they informed us of all the cool clubs to hit while in town. They were so helpful and the drinks and food was bizamb! Before I forget…be reminded that the Euro stomped the American dollar while we were there so in most places, one Euro equaled $1.70 in US currency. Eeps! Good thing Paul has lots more money than I do. He paid for virtually everything and usually without a fuss. (So what if I wanted a McDonald’s cheeseburger after an expensive three course meal…I’m an American!)
As we were walking to the big gay club, Paul and I had to piss so badly. We whipped out our dicks and pissed behind a dumpster on the road. As I was pulling up my zipper, a police siren goes off and LA POLICIA pulls up next to us. They jump out of the car and are like “aleirrrrrreoia;jdidaolierrrrrrr”. At least, that’s what it sounded like since my Spanish is at the level of a 6th grader. They screamed at us and sat me in the back of the cop car. I was so scared that my ass sphincter was constricting and un-constricting over and over. It literally took all of my self-control to keep from shitting down my leg. Paul was trying to get them to leave us alone and they just kept pointing at the piss on the ground and screaming “NO NO NO!”. Eventually they asked Paul in English “How much money you got?” I’m like “WHAAAAAAAAA? We’re not giving you any money!” The police got even more pissed at that and eventually the situation became a Mexican standoff. Or…actually…a Spaniard standoff. After about 15 minutes, they gave up and said something nasty to us in Spanish and drove away. My limbs shook uncontrollably until we got to the club.
At the club, this old gay dude pulls out a joint and offers it to Paul and me. Having not smoked for the entire trip, that joint looked as though it had floated down from the heavens. I ripped it out of the old gay dude’s hands and puffed it like a mad man. Unfortunately, it was mixed with tobacco, so it was the weakest and most ineffective joint I’ve ever smoked. LAME. However, I was so happy that he offered us the joint that I bought him a drink. He ordered (what seemed to be) a vodka red bull, so I asked for one too. When I sipped on it, I about puked on myself. It was actually a WHISKEY red bull. SICK! I gave it to Paul who is the human dumpster and will drink anything.
We danced for a long time and I laughed and laughed when Kelis’s “Milkshake” came on and all of these dudes in their broken English were going “Milkshake brings boys yard, they like better yars”. After a couple hours of dancing and me going up to some muscle dude and rubbing his arm tattoo for way too long, I grabbed Paul by the hand and walked us out of the club. Before we reached the door, my drunk and sometimes alcoholic boyfriend ripped his hand away and ran back into the club for another drink. Pissed off, I hailed a cab and went home. I had no idea where I was in the city, yet the cab driver and I both burst out laughing when he pulled up three blocks and dropped me off at the door to the hostel. UM. I’m dumb.
I waited for two hours for Paul to come home and since I was half asleep and delirious when he walked in the door, I demanded “Where is my boyfriend?!” Paul says “I’m right here!” And then I scream “NO! Where is my boyfriend PAUL!?” Paul laughs and says “Right here!” I respond with “Then where are my fucking parents?” and pass out.
The next day we were BOTH very hung-over and spent most of the day down at beautiful Port Vell. There were tons of street performers and the weather was just about 65 and sunny. It was the most gorgeous day ever and I loved walking around with Paul and eating some of the best seafood of my life. After a few days, Paul and I flew to Paris and spent the New Year there with my parents and brother. We saw a bunch of the sights and ate and drank way too much again. The highlight had to be New Year’s Eve. All of us went to this incredible Parisian dinner and then bought forties and found a spot underneath the Eiffel Tower. The weather was perfect and warm and the Tower looked unreal at night. The whole thing looked like a giant sparkler on the Fourth of July. It was damn awesome.
There was so much pot smoking going on around us and I was itching to smoke really badly. I offered this French dude a couple Euros for a hit off his blunt and he said “no”. I don’t think he understood what I was trying to say to him since he looked at me as though I was a complete moron for the duration of our “conversation”. Twenty minutes later I see Paul try to kiss my mother. I’m like “SICK!” My mom goes to give him a peck back and Paul blows a mouth load of pot into her face. While this would be something that would freak most moms out, my mom’s face lit up and she goes “Give me some!” My mom took a few puffs and then I finagled some for myself. Ten minutes after that and the three of us are out of our damned minds. I swear…I’ve smoked a LOT of weed in my time, but this shit was the BEST I’ve EVER had!
Paul’s nickname became “Paranoid Schizophrenia” since he was a crazy person running around and hiding from everything and everyone. “Do any of you understand that this place is DANGEROUS! We could get KILLED!” My mom became “Spaghetti Legs” as she was literally falling all over herself for the remainder of the night. I would look over at her and her legs would be shaking uncontrollably. “Mom, are you dancing?” “No Joe, just trying to keep my balance.” “I see.” My nickname was “About to have a heart attack” since my chest was bursting out of my…well…chest. I also had the classic shooting pains down my left arm. “I love PARIS ON NEW YEARS! Does anyone have an aspirin for my heart attack?” It was one of the best nights of my life and bringing in the New Year with my boyfriend under the Eiffel Tower is something that I’ll never forget for the rest of my life.
We took the Metro home that night and it was crowded with a bunch of crazy people. Once inside our hotel room, Paul and I ate 3 baguettes and 2 blocks of cheese and called it a night. The rest of the trip was filled with more sightseeing, more dinners and more drinks. By the time Paul and I flew back on Sunday, we were wiped out. I’m talking wiped and I’m talking out.
I was so tired of non-English speaking people that when a German lady at the airport scoffed at me for eating French fries with my fingers, I shot her a devil glare and made a clicking noise with my mouth. That will teach YOU for messing with the almighty American. Ha.
Our flight home was 9 long hours. We flew on Lufthansa and while it was a nice airplane, I thought the seats were uncomfortable and the food sucked my ball sac. Except for the vegetarian pizza they served us during the last half hour of the flight. I could have eaten 7 of those bitches. The two movies they showed us were Around the World in 80 Snores. I didn’t even attempt to watch that shit. But on the way back they showed Taxi with Queen Lateefs and Jimmy Fallon. After 20 minutes, my deep ceded hatred for Jimmy Fallon surfaced and my disappointment in Lateefs took control and I ripped the headphones out of the socket and chose to watch the clouds instead of the movie. Fuck you Luthansa. And fuck you too Jimmy Fallon of my hatred.
When Paul and I arrived at home, I was disappointed to find out that one of my last two remaining hamsters had passed away. My good friend Kelly had checked in on them and disposed of the body so I wouldn’t have to walk in to the stench of death. My favorite and long time hamster friend Jim is still alive and doing well. Thank God. He’s my little man and I hope to send him to a really good college when he gets old enough.
On the last day of our vacation, Paul and I cleaned the apartment from the top of the rafters to the bottoms of the toilet. We decorated and made it more of a home. Now when I walk into our pad, I feel warm and happy and like it’s a place I never want to leave. I was wondering if that feeling would ever hit and it finally has.
Not to leave out the sights I saw while on vacation, here is a brief rundown for those of you who are into that kind of thing (personally I just like to eat and play cards…who cares about history anyway?):
The most moving structure I saw was “La Sagrada Familia” in Spain. It is the most massive and beautiful church I’ve ever seen in my life. The story behind it is quite interesting, but I don’t feel like getting into it. Basically the guy who created it got hit by a train and his life ended abruptly. The end.
I was a big fan of the Notre Dame cathedral. You see, what happened was…we were in line to enter the church, but I was so hungry for a hotdog with CHEESE ON IT that Paul and I left the line to get one. By the time we got back, my parents had already walked in. Rather than go to the back of the line, we cut in front of everyone and entered at our leisure. There were tons of irritated Europeans making remarks, but it was my last day in Paris and I just didn’t care anymore. I smiled and walked around oblivious to their catcalls.
We went to Luxembourg and basically walked around the entire city. The architecture was fascinating. The food was out of this world as well. But eventually my feet fell off from all the walking and I had to sit down for awhile. That’s the most exciting story I have about that country.
The Louvre was closed on the day that Paul and I went so we took pictures of the outside and imagined what the Mona Lisa and Venus De Milo would have looked like up close. In my mind they were very exceptional pieces of artwork and I pictured the Venus De Milo with a dick.
I enjoyed the Arc de Triompf and the Champs de Elysees. I kissed Paul under the Arc and then we had more ham sandwiches.
Other than that, we did a LOT of walking and looking and listening to historical stories and the like. I’m super glad to be home and I am ever so grateful for being able to have this experience. I may come across as smarmy and unappreciative, but deep down, I truly am. Grateful, not smarmy, you ass. Having never left the country prior to this trip, I feel as though my mind has opened up to new cultures and particular ways of life. I’m proud to be from the United States, more so than ever. I love our country and I love what we stand for as Americans. I may disagree and personally despise the president, but he is not the only representative that we have that matters. The people of this country are its foundation, its stronghold, and its future.
When the police officer at the passport checkpoint said “Welcome home Mr. CuttheShit”, I beamed with pride and relief. It’s never felt so good to be here.
Here I am! Did you all miss me? Did you think I would come back speaking German and only eating schnitzel? Did you think that I decided to go the route of most Europeans and cut my hair into a faux hawk? Well, I didn’t quite do that, but I did come back a little changed. For example, I think I gained 36 pounds by eating my face off in every country I visited. I also think my liver is about ready to crawl out of my ass and flush itself down the toilet. I mean, when a carafe of wine is cheaper than a can of soda, you’d be STUPID not to guzzle it at every meal. But I am getting ahead of myself. I had the most amazing time of my life. Sure, there were moments when I thought “Is this ever going to end?”, but those moments were few and far between and I think I did a good job of keeping up with all of the walking, bus riding, metro taking, and non-stop airplane flying that I had to do in the last 10 days.
First we went to Germany to spend Christmas with my brother and his girlfriend. My brother’s apartment is in Idar-Oberstein and of course it is one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever seen. Spiral staircase leading to the second floor? Two bathrooms? If he hadn’t been in Iraq for 18 months, I’d surely be a jealous, but ever so cute, monster. While in the land of Deutch we took a day trip to Trier to see the Christmas festivals and to eat doners (doners rhymes with boners and that made me love them even more) and of course, schnitzels. The weather was warm, but I found the people to be a little bit cold. Germany’s countryside is beautiful; replete with rolling hills and dark green grass. The people on the other hand were pretty…how do you say...unattractive? However, for the duration of my trip, I think I only saw about 3 overweight people (myself not included). Yet every time we would run into an American, they would be shoving their face with McDonalds and slobbering all over themselves. So we may be a pretty country, but we are surely a fatter country. Christmas itself was wonderful. It took us five hours to open up all of the presents that were under the tree. Tears were shed and hearts warmed and Paul told me that it was “by far the best Christmas he has ever had”. In one special moment, my mom gave Paul this tiny framed picture that used to belong to my beloved and dearly departed Gramma. I’ve never seen Paul so emotionally moved by a gift in my life. On the flip side, I got an ipod (finally), a new digi (digital camera for you lamos), a Gucci watch, tickets to Hairspray, and various other fantastic items. And when I say fantastic, I mean a karaoke machine! ROCK! Anyone want to come over for a solo performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?
My brother has a dog that is the size of a gorilla, so while I loved being around an animal again, I found myself being pinned to the floor and humped at every turn. Also, we had the best tasting ham for dinner on Christmas, but I didn’t realize at the time that it would be a foreshadowing of all of the ham I would be chowing on for the rest of the week. Everywhere we went we somehow ended up eating ham. Ham sandwiches, ham kabobs, ham cordon blue, ham jello. It was all very hammy.
As all of you should know, the tsunamis hit the day after Christmas and considering that the only American television station that we could get was CNN International, I watched hours and hours and hours of horrifying footage of all of the poor victims of this tragedy. I am still recovering from the horror of it all. Very VERY sad and it made the whole vacation seem that much more fragile and important.
On the Monday after Christmas, Paul and I flew to Barcelona. What a trip that was. MY GOD I LOVE BARCELONA! Well, to be honest, when we first arrived at our hostel, I sat down on the bed and cried. I was so intimidated and overwhelmed by the whole experience and I just wanted to come home; culture shock to the extreme. Paul immediately sat down and put his arm around me. “I know how you feel Joe. It’s how I felt when I left the country for the first time. It will get easier and I’ll be here to take care of everything for you.” It was shortly after that that we had the best sex of our relationship. Well, maybe not the BEST, but my dick was surely chaffed after that experience.
Whilst in Barcelona, Paul and I ate out at Gay restaurants and met some really nice (but not very cute) gay people. We had drinks with them and they informed us of all the cool clubs to hit while in town. They were so helpful and the drinks and food was bizamb! Before I forget…be reminded that the Euro stomped the American dollar while we were there so in most places, one Euro equaled $1.70 in US currency. Eeps! Good thing Paul has lots more money than I do. He paid for virtually everything and usually without a fuss. (So what if I wanted a McDonald’s cheeseburger after an expensive three course meal…I’m an American!)
As we were walking to the big gay club, Paul and I had to piss so badly. We whipped out our dicks and pissed behind a dumpster on the road. As I was pulling up my zipper, a police siren goes off and LA POLICIA pulls up next to us. They jump out of the car and are like “aleirrrrrreoia;jdidaolierrrrrrr”. At least, that’s what it sounded like since my Spanish is at the level of a 6th grader. They screamed at us and sat me in the back of the cop car. I was so scared that my ass sphincter was constricting and un-constricting over and over. It literally took all of my self-control to keep from shitting down my leg. Paul was trying to get them to leave us alone and they just kept pointing at the piss on the ground and screaming “NO NO NO!”. Eventually they asked Paul in English “How much money you got?” I’m like “WHAAAAAAAAA? We’re not giving you any money!” The police got even more pissed at that and eventually the situation became a Mexican standoff. Or…actually…a Spaniard standoff. After about 15 minutes, they gave up and said something nasty to us in Spanish and drove away. My limbs shook uncontrollably until we got to the club.
At the club, this old gay dude pulls out a joint and offers it to Paul and me. Having not smoked for the entire trip, that joint looked as though it had floated down from the heavens. I ripped it out of the old gay dude’s hands and puffed it like a mad man. Unfortunately, it was mixed with tobacco, so it was the weakest and most ineffective joint I’ve ever smoked. LAME. However, I was so happy that he offered us the joint that I bought him a drink. He ordered (what seemed to be) a vodka red bull, so I asked for one too. When I sipped on it, I about puked on myself. It was actually a WHISKEY red bull. SICK! I gave it to Paul who is the human dumpster and will drink anything.
We danced for a long time and I laughed and laughed when Kelis’s “Milkshake” came on and all of these dudes in their broken English were going “Milkshake brings boys yard, they like better yars”. After a couple hours of dancing and me going up to some muscle dude and rubbing his arm tattoo for way too long, I grabbed Paul by the hand and walked us out of the club. Before we reached the door, my drunk and sometimes alcoholic boyfriend ripped his hand away and ran back into the club for another drink. Pissed off, I hailed a cab and went home. I had no idea where I was in the city, yet the cab driver and I both burst out laughing when he pulled up three blocks and dropped me off at the door to the hostel. UM. I’m dumb.
I waited for two hours for Paul to come home and since I was half asleep and delirious when he walked in the door, I demanded “Where is my boyfriend?!” Paul says “I’m right here!” And then I scream “NO! Where is my boyfriend PAUL!?” Paul laughs and says “Right here!” I respond with “Then where are my fucking parents?” and pass out.
The next day we were BOTH very hung-over and spent most of the day down at beautiful Port Vell. There were tons of street performers and the weather was just about 65 and sunny. It was the most gorgeous day ever and I loved walking around with Paul and eating some of the best seafood of my life. After a few days, Paul and I flew to Paris and spent the New Year there with my parents and brother. We saw a bunch of the sights and ate and drank way too much again. The highlight had to be New Year’s Eve. All of us went to this incredible Parisian dinner and then bought forties and found a spot underneath the Eiffel Tower. The weather was perfect and warm and the Tower looked unreal at night. The whole thing looked like a giant sparkler on the Fourth of July. It was damn awesome.
There was so much pot smoking going on around us and I was itching to smoke really badly. I offered this French dude a couple Euros for a hit off his blunt and he said “no”. I don’t think he understood what I was trying to say to him since he looked at me as though I was a complete moron for the duration of our “conversation”. Twenty minutes later I see Paul try to kiss my mother. I’m like “SICK!” My mom goes to give him a peck back and Paul blows a mouth load of pot into her face. While this would be something that would freak most moms out, my mom’s face lit up and she goes “Give me some!” My mom took a few puffs and then I finagled some for myself. Ten minutes after that and the three of us are out of our damned minds. I swear…I’ve smoked a LOT of weed in my time, but this shit was the BEST I’ve EVER had!
Paul’s nickname became “Paranoid Schizophrenia” since he was a crazy person running around and hiding from everything and everyone. “Do any of you understand that this place is DANGEROUS! We could get KILLED!” My mom became “Spaghetti Legs” as she was literally falling all over herself for the remainder of the night. I would look over at her and her legs would be shaking uncontrollably. “Mom, are you dancing?” “No Joe, just trying to keep my balance.” “I see.” My nickname was “About to have a heart attack” since my chest was bursting out of my…well…chest. I also had the classic shooting pains down my left arm. “I love PARIS ON NEW YEARS! Does anyone have an aspirin for my heart attack?” It was one of the best nights of my life and bringing in the New Year with my boyfriend under the Eiffel Tower is something that I’ll never forget for the rest of my life.
We took the Metro home that night and it was crowded with a bunch of crazy people. Once inside our hotel room, Paul and I ate 3 baguettes and 2 blocks of cheese and called it a night. The rest of the trip was filled with more sightseeing, more dinners and more drinks. By the time Paul and I flew back on Sunday, we were wiped out. I’m talking wiped and I’m talking out.
I was so tired of non-English speaking people that when a German lady at the airport scoffed at me for eating French fries with my fingers, I shot her a devil glare and made a clicking noise with my mouth. That will teach YOU for messing with the almighty American. Ha.
Our flight home was 9 long hours. We flew on Lufthansa and while it was a nice airplane, I thought the seats were uncomfortable and the food sucked my ball sac. Except for the vegetarian pizza they served us during the last half hour of the flight. I could have eaten 7 of those bitches. The two movies they showed us were Around the World in 80 Snores. I didn’t even attempt to watch that shit. But on the way back they showed Taxi with Queen Lateefs and Jimmy Fallon. After 20 minutes, my deep ceded hatred for Jimmy Fallon surfaced and my disappointment in Lateefs took control and I ripped the headphones out of the socket and chose to watch the clouds instead of the movie. Fuck you Luthansa. And fuck you too Jimmy Fallon of my hatred.
When Paul and I arrived at home, I was disappointed to find out that one of my last two remaining hamsters had passed away. My good friend Kelly had checked in on them and disposed of the body so I wouldn’t have to walk in to the stench of death. My favorite and long time hamster friend Jim is still alive and doing well. Thank God. He’s my little man and I hope to send him to a really good college when he gets old enough.
On the last day of our vacation, Paul and I cleaned the apartment from the top of the rafters to the bottoms of the toilet. We decorated and made it more of a home. Now when I walk into our pad, I feel warm and happy and like it’s a place I never want to leave. I was wondering if that feeling would ever hit and it finally has.
Not to leave out the sights I saw while on vacation, here is a brief rundown for those of you who are into that kind of thing (personally I just like to eat and play cards…who cares about history anyway?):
The most moving structure I saw was “La Sagrada Familia” in Spain. It is the most massive and beautiful church I’ve ever seen in my life. The story behind it is quite interesting, but I don’t feel like getting into it. Basically the guy who created it got hit by a train and his life ended abruptly. The end.
I was a big fan of the Notre Dame cathedral. You see, what happened was…we were in line to enter the church, but I was so hungry for a hotdog with CHEESE ON IT that Paul and I left the line to get one. By the time we got back, my parents had already walked in. Rather than go to the back of the line, we cut in front of everyone and entered at our leisure. There were tons of irritated Europeans making remarks, but it was my last day in Paris and I just didn’t care anymore. I smiled and walked around oblivious to their catcalls.
We went to Luxembourg and basically walked around the entire city. The architecture was fascinating. The food was out of this world as well. But eventually my feet fell off from all the walking and I had to sit down for awhile. That’s the most exciting story I have about that country.
The Louvre was closed on the day that Paul and I went so we took pictures of the outside and imagined what the Mona Lisa and Venus De Milo would have looked like up close. In my mind they were very exceptional pieces of artwork and I pictured the Venus De Milo with a dick.
I enjoyed the Arc de Triompf and the Champs de Elysees. I kissed Paul under the Arc and then we had more ham sandwiches.
Other than that, we did a LOT of walking and looking and listening to historical stories and the like. I’m super glad to be home and I am ever so grateful for being able to have this experience. I may come across as smarmy and unappreciative, but deep down, I truly am. Grateful, not smarmy, you ass. Having never left the country prior to this trip, I feel as though my mind has opened up to new cultures and particular ways of life. I’m proud to be from the United States, more so than ever. I love our country and I love what we stand for as Americans. I may disagree and personally despise the president, but he is not the only representative that we have that matters. The people of this country are its foundation, its stronghold, and its future.
When the police officer at the passport checkpoint said “Welcome home Mr. CuttheShit”, I beamed with pride and relief. It’s never felt so good to be here.
