Monday, December 18, 2006

Art Nouveau 2007 Calendar

I'm sorry everyone, but we got gyped this Christmas! (I can say that, because I'm half Gypsy) Next year, Christmas comes on a Tuesday. We better get that Monday off. New Year's Eve might be up for debate, but not if this Penguin has anything to say about it.
Another preview, and yes, I know the entire calendar isn't "Art Nouveau." I'd say 9 out of 12 monthes are. July, August, and November are a bit more cartoonish. If you'd like one, email me at

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

2007 Calendar Project Preview

Hopefully the full calendar should be finished by Thanksgiving. Here's a sample of what I've been working on.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Dems take House and Senate- Mark Siano Projects

The GOP isn't going to mount a battle for Macaca in Virginia.

It took America 6 years to figure out this guy wasn't a good president? We have a serious education gap in this country. 803 days left until George Bush leaves office. To all the people who finally voted Democratic this time, thanks. We could've used you a few years back.

My Dad, the staunch Republican didn't even vote in this last election. I nearly dislocated my jaw when he told me he was happy the Democrats had won. I really can't believe after all these years we're agreeing on national politics. Finally America can come together. Whether you're Republican, Democratic, or a Independent Christian Socialist Libertine, we can all agree that Iraq is a failed policy and that George Bush is full of it.

I give all this talk of bi-partisan politics three to four hours before it turns ugly again. Nancy Pelosi is going to remind Republicans why they hated liberals so much in the first place.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006


Yo! This is Mukilteo Bumblebee. If Mark ain't gonna write on this thing, I will, since I got his password anyway. Well it's halloween and I am back, and I am ready to throw you a few poems straight from the combs.

Buzz Buzz Honey
Buzz Buzz Money
I don't need no dough
but y'all ought to know
I'm coming for your flowers
I'm not waiting for April showers

Protect the Queen?
That's what I do.
Don't tell me how to live my life.
Unless you are the queen,
in which case I say . . .

Buzz Buzz Queenie
Buzz Buzz Halloweenie
What's good for the queen is good for the hive
I'll dance all day just to stay alive
I'll dance to the left, buzz, dance to the right
I'll dance with the wasps, I'll dance all night

Just to show you,
Where my honey at
Just to give you
the coordinates

I'll rhyme when I want to
Or maybe I won't
Or give ya half ass rhymes
like get in my boat!

That didn't make no sense
and neither does you face
I'll dance and buzz til ya get the picture

Buzz buzz step to the left
fly up straight
loopty loop
Buzz back down
do the double-J scoop

Shake it buzzy Shake it up
Dance c'mon dance dance buzz


I'm dancing like this and dancing like that
Now you know where my honey's at

I know all you kids are dying to be
Just like the original,Mukilteo Bumblebee

Saturday, October 21, 2006

The Brothers have worked it out.

The Brothers are alright. Representatives for the Fire have said that the Fire is going to go underground for the next few years, maybe come out with a new, bigger fire in 2008.

Thursday, October 12, 2006


The Brothers are on fire! Hey! Hey! Fire! Fire!

The's a huge forest fire in The Brothers wilderness area! The Brothers is that big double peak you can see across the water from Seattle. The Brothers just happen to be be my favorite mountain (is it plural if it's one mountain?) in the Olympic Mountain Range. And that mountain is currently on fire. The Brothers are on fire!

I've never seen anything like it. Even when I lived in L.A., where there are forest fires all the time, you could never see the distant plumes from Downtown or Hollywood or anything like that.

The fire was first reported Wednesday Oct.10. The muthafuckin Brothers have been on fire since at least Oct 4! That's when I noticed a plume of smoke coming off the mountain. I never reported it. I figured one of these guy would have said something.

Maybe some forest department official . . . ?
It's right there people! Seattle has had clear skies for nearly everyday in October. At first I thought The Brothers might be ready to blow up or something, but The Brothers are not volcanic.
Shouldn't this be bigger news? Local camera crews LOVE a good forest fire, its a ratings machine! I guess Seattle is just gonna chill and see what happens, no biggy.

If this was the Simi Valley or Valencia people would be freaking out!

Well I'm sorry I didn't say anything about it earlier, but apparently they just wait to see if these things burn themselves out.

HOWEVER, if it gets out of hand, I'm gonna be organizing a fire fighting car pool! I've got room in my car for at least two. Bring a bucket.

We can do this blog community. Bloggers turned the 2004 presidential campaign on its head. Bloggers have outed countless prominent closet gays. Now the blog communtiy is going to have to put out a forest fire. We can do it bloggers, save The Brothers!

Monday, October 02, 2006

June 2006

Blam! The European Calendars are almost finished. Special thanks again to Franco for making my 30th birthday an unforgettable one, and thanks for encouraging me to drink that much wine. I never made contact with that ping pong ball that night.

Princess destroys Venice

VENICE 2006-- In retaliation for being forced to wait 4 hours for docking in an April 2005 Princess vacation cruise to Venice, Captain Ernesto Poretta responded this time by taking docking procedures into his own hands.

"I don't have time for this bullshit, the buffet has been picked clean, the line up for shuffleboard is around the pool. If we can't use the grand canal, no one will."

Even though Venetian port authorities assured Cpt. Poretta that the wait for docking would be less than an hour, the captain took immediate action.

"Less than an hour?!? That's what they said last time. The dock is right frickin there! Do I look like a moron? These damn city officials probably don't even remember me. Well now they will." Then the Captain aimed the mighty cruise liner at the heart of St. Mark's square, sending Venetian vendors, pigeons, and tourists fleeing in terror.

"I'm gonna rip this bitch a new one!" screamed the captain as the hull of the boat ripped through St. Mark's square.

Venitian city officials have yet to comment on the new canal.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

MAY 2006. Sicily, Rome, and Spain. This calendar features two of my favorite days in Europe. The first was hiking Stromboli to see the volcano eruptions, and the other was soaking in the Arabian Baths of Granada.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Aprile! The calendar doodler is back, and more behind schedule than ever!


Full size March

Friday, September 22, 2006

Stromboli at Dawn

(Stalling for calendars) There is an exhibit at the EMP of Paul Allen's personal collection, and he has a photograph of Stromboli at Dawn. This photo is much better. Hey Paul, can I get a grant, please?

Friday, September 15, 2006

Venice and Barcelona

The Calendars should be finished by the end of the month.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

What now . . .

I used to draw calendars.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

We're gonna Party like it's 1999!

After being back in Seattle for a month, with the same job, but a better apartment, it feels like the last 4 months in Europe never even happened. Then with Erika and Ryan back in town, it feels like the last 7 years never even happened.

I have two best friends, one for each gender. They've been away for a long time and this rare moment was a tremendous cause for celebration. I filled my freezer with liquor, and we filled the streets of Seattle with love.

The first major event was GAY KARAOKE! Ryan got right off the plane and met everybody at a big purple gay bar. Joanna sang "Don't leave me this way," and you could say she soft rocked the house. Ryan picked that song for her long ago, but we're not giving him any Karaoke prize money. Erika doesn't even like karaoke, but she was the one that made us all meet there, which of course turned out to be an appropriately fun yet kinda awkward night. Which is the way I like it, awkward is the new funny.

The next day, I got work off and we went to Seattle's 1-90 lid park. 7 years ago we took a series of pictures out there, and now we ritualistically returned to that spot to see how the years have treated us. Erika has aged gracefully, and Ryan has refashioned himself as the illustrated man. He may have tattoos on his arm, but he helps kids stay in school! What a dirty steamy photo shoot, damn. Lake Washington is gonna need a shower, and a really big towel.

Looking at these photos now I realize that I look like shit! All those late nights drinking and eating large servings apparently have taken a toll. Is this what 30 looks like?!? I like to be hard on myself, because apparently no one else cares that I'm letting it go. I should be working out, not blogging. Forget that, it's party recounting time!!!

Hell, we even partied in Mukilteo. Then we rode the ferry just so we could go to a Pirate Party on Whidbey island. We destroyed that island! By the end of the night we were whipping people on the beach with bullwhip seaweed. Hell that was the beginning of the night. Later we were photographed riding the roof of a minivan! 'Cause that's how Whidbey people roll man.

Oh and we had a huge R. Kelly movie watching party. That movie is genius damn it. Please make more and don't let anyone intelligent ever speak to R. Kelly. Just keep doing your thing brother. I want 10 more episodes of "Trapped in the Closet!"

Plus my sister Lieta was back in town from the Southwest, adding another layer to the insanity. We even had a Radiohead Geek out party and listened to the new Thom Yorke album. Ryan's favorite part was undoubtedly the games of dominoes played at my apartment and watching the sunset from Patrick's patio.

Then there was the Mariner's game. Patrick and the David Swidler rallied to meet at the ballpark. We got pleasantly wasted, and we were loved by the crowd around us. I was drunk and thrown out of the game, but not for being belligerent. They could tell by the way I cradled my large Coca-Cola, that perhaps there was more to it. She sniffed the cup and called me drunk. The alcohol enforcement officers surrounded me and ushered me to the isle and out of the stands.

She wanted to know how I got the rum in. I kinda revealed my secrets and she said.

"You have two options, either you can leave now, or I can call security."

"I have a third option," I said "let me stay!" All this while wearing a promotional rally towel on my head. "You haven't had any complaints have you."

"No," she said. Apparently, I thought this gave me the moral high ground and for the next ten minutes I attempted to reason my way back into the game. After that, I tried a little charm and that got the job done.

"Search me," I encouraged her to search me many times, but she wouldn't do it.

"C'mon it will be fun!" I exclaimed. That's where she gave in, better to let the drunkard back in then pat him down. Triumphantly, I returned to game. Standing just beneath the bleachers, I am sure she heard the burst of yelling and applause as I reentered the game. You made the right choice young lady. As soon as I was back the Mariner's tied the game and I told all those damn Yankee fans to, "SHUT UP!"

Even better, the game stayed tied until the bottom of the ninth. When Adrian Beltre hit a game winning walk off home run, and we all went home supremely happy. Then when we walked into the brand new bar by Safeco, the bartenders recognized us and gave us at least a hundred dollars worth of free beer and shots. Fortune favors the bold.

A fine week my friends, it's a good thing we don't hang out together all the time, someone might get really hurt.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Thursday, August 17, 2006


Rome seemed quiet and total unthreatening while I was there. However, some friends of mine just got back from Rome where they got mugged by three men in the train station. The lesson to be learned here is don't go Rome in July and August. Summer is peak season for most large tourist cities in Italy, and in a city like Rome, the theives will be waiting for you at the Train station.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Final European Dispatch

It looks like the mission to Europe was a failure. What was the mission again? Uh . . .? Ummmm . . . ? Oh, yeah, to find a purpose in life. Mission failed. What do I want to be when I grow up? What kind of career I should pursue? I still have no idea.

I was hoping that four workless monthes of leisure would give me time to contemplate my future direction, instead I spent my time answering challenging questions like, 'should I have chocolate gelato or limone?', or 'should I go swimming now, or go back to bed?', or 'maybe I should get some health insurance.' However, I do know this: I have a promising headstart in the lucrative field of unemployed international psuedo-artistic vagabond. Actually, I make a terrific house guest, and I was so successful in my first assignment that I was offered an extension.

Angelo Brambilla, who has been hosting Joanna and I for the summer, asked us if we would like to stay a month or so longer and go sailing with him. I was hoping he would ask us this very question all summer, but the question came just a little too late. It is unquestionably time to go, the money is all gone, and it is too damn hot in Milan to spend another night here.

If you have been following this blog, you will know that I have burned my ass twice now. It has gone from white, to red, to pink, to peeling, to red, to white with pink splotches, to . . . Well I managed to burn it again yesterday. This time there was no nudity involved, it happened when I sat on a rock! I was even wearing a cold wet bathing suit, still that rock, which had been baking in the sun all day, actually burnt my skin like a frying pan through my shorts. That's how fucking hot it is here.


I can't stand stale hot air with no circulation, and since ancient Medolanum was built on top of a swamp, the place is also plagued with an endless army of hungry mosqitoes! Joanna and I are covered with mosqito bites. Trying to sleep in Milan is so hot and unpleasant that we have retreated to Angelo's basement where we sleep in a sealed tent to avoid those blood sucking bastards. I am tired of being itchy and sweaty.

Leaving Europe is never desirable, but in July it's much, much easier. I can not wait to see Seattle. The tempature will be perfect, my friends will be there, I already have a few parties to attend, and I missed a bunch of great new movies. There is Bandidas, and The Devil Wears Prada, and that charming new Jennifer Aniston film I just HAVE to see.

Since the scooter accident a week ago, (I'm fine by the way) our final week of vacation has been great. We went to the island of Korcula, where Marco Polo was born. Then we headed to Dubrovnik, which, despite the recent war, has been beautifully rebuilt with marble streets and red clay roofs. From Dubrovnik we watched Italy win the World Cup and then we rented a car and headed for the interior. We saw the waterfalls of Krka National Park and went to an abandoned castle in the tourist free city of Knin. We then spent two days at the magnificent Plitvich National Park, which has the most beautiful waterfalls I have ever seen. Then we drove into Bosnia for dinner. The nearest town to the national park was called Bihac (hilariously pronounced Bee-ach or Biatch) and we couldn't resist.

When crossing the border into Bosnia-Herzegovinia expect to spent more than a few minutes with the autorities, there are four seperate check points on the way through, and everyone is deadly serious. Once inside Bosnia, you immediately notice the drastic drop in the quality of life. Abandoned buildings, stray dogs, aimless people walking in the middle of the street, and beggars in the parking lot. The countryside however was quite pleasant, and we encounted our first Mosque of the trip, complete with a large dome and missle shaped tower. I had read that Bosnia was primarily an Eastern Orthodox Christian country, but while we were in Bihac, I saw four mosques and no churches. The population of this Biatch didn't look like my stereotypes of muslims, only one woman wore a head scarf, and the rest were wearing booberific tank tops as they headed for the bars. This was the first time I had ever heard the call to prayer, and I found it quite beautiful and haunting as it was broadcast from the loudspeakers attached to the mosque. I thought people were supposed to stop and pray, but no one even paused, and I also got the impression that if I were to spend four monthes listening to the call to prayer everyday, I might need to get some earplugs. The school yard across the street from the mosque was the most dramatic evidence we saw of the war. The backboard of the basketball hoop was cracked and crumbling and the walls were riddled with bulletholes. I was so spooked that I was afraid to even take a picture. We had a rather lame meal of grilled meat, fried bread, and beer which only cost about 3 dollars and we headed swiftly back to Croatia, where we spent another twenty minutes at the border, as they searched our rental car. Thanks Bihac, we'll be sure to recommend you to no one.

After that we headed back to the coast and caught a bus back to Italy and a train back to Milan. I fell asleep that night at the bar as we attempted to have drinks with Chiara and friends. We also went to the Ligurian coast with Franco and enjoyed a spectacular apperitivo with Mojitos on the cliffs of Rocco, where we had the 'real original' foccacia, which is delicious but just a little too cheesy to properly digest. Since then it's been shopping and more shopping, I got an Italian suit and some Italian shoes and Joanna is searching for more stuff now as I blog away.

Tomorrow we fly to London and then Wednesday we will be back in Seattle. Thanks a lot to all of you who read this, sent me emails, and extra kudos to those who left comments. It was really nice to have your feedback way out here, half a world away. It was like you were keeping Joanna and I company and it made the terrible moments, like burning my ass, and crashing into a wall, a lot more tolerable, because we knew that at least they would be good for a laugh on the old blog. I had a lot of fun writing, and the internet cafes of Europe thank you for encouraging me to write more. I am sorry about the grammar and weak-ass sentence structure, I'm simply to poor to do any proper editing.

Peace be with you, and stay tuned for more ridiculously beautiful photos.

Congrats Italia 2006 Campioni Del Mundo, I am sorry I ever doubted you.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

Day of Destruction- Croatian Edition ČĆŽĐŠŽ

This is Joanna writing. I have agreed to write this entry since Mark was whining that his arm hurt when he held it in a typing position. The truth is, it does look pretty painful, but it's my opinion that he's being lazy as well. If you're interested in learning what happened to Mark's arm, well, read on.

It all began on the Island of Hvar, in a little port town called Jelsa (pr. Yell-sa). The weather was beautiful and, having heard tell of famous nude beaches, Mark convinced me we should rent a scooter and search one out.

"Maybe we could rent bikes." I tried to compromise.

"But a scooter would be faster." Mark countered, "What if the road is steep?"

"Well, how about renting a little boat - then we could find a cove completely unreachable by land!"

"Scooter, scooter!" After that he would only beat-box a techno-scooter rave mix. You see what I was up against.

So I consented and we found the cheapest scooter rental in town. Mark was shaky at the beginning, but quickly got the hang of the little scooter (max speed, 40 kph) and my nerves began to calm as well. The road to Kamp Nudist was gently winding, with beautiful Adriatic views. There was only one problem. With me on the back of the bike, Mark was too far forward on the seat to see the rearview mirror. Our short term remedy for this was that I would continually look back and tell him if there were cars behind us, because they would undoubtably want to pass our slow, wobbly ass. We reached the campground where the beach was quite crowded, so we decided to head back along the road to find a more secluded spot. Before we revved up, though, Mark decided to "fix" the mirror.

"I'll just quickly adjust this before we go..." He said, grabbing the mirror and wrenching it back, "Why won't this move..." SNAP!

The whole mirror, stem and all, fell to the ground. Oh, and don't think this was some kind of breakaway safety mirror. It wasn't.

We took it in stride. I mean, the mirrors must break all the time if someone can break it just by pulling on it with all their might, you know?

We continued on. We found the perfect sunbathing spot, with just a little bit of shade and no one else around. Being very pale (understatement), I always slather myself with sunblock, and in the nude I was even more diligent. Mark, however, has that knee-to-waist white girdle, bordered by tan, and by gum he was going to change that!

He had already worked on that white area some in Germany. On a walk around the spectacular Eibsee Lake, we encountered a secluded stretch where sunbathing nude seemed to be required. Of course, we had to comply. My usual sunblock ritual ensued, but Mark saw this as an opportunity to prepare for Croatia. Later that evening, we both laughed heartily at Mark's pink bottom. That is, until he had to sit on the bus to Croatia the next day for 15 hours with a sunburnt ass. Then I was the only one laughing.

You would think he would have learned something from this. We spent at least four hours roasting beside the Adriatic, and now his ass is no longer mozzarella, it's marinara!

Soon, however, the destruction was to continue. Back in Garmisch, when we discovered the Eibsee and the beautiful swimming pool, the Kaisenbad, we bought two inflatable floaty-things to take to the water with us. Oh, those floaty things had become much more than just flotation devices to us. They protected us from hard beach surfaces, they provided shade when it got too extreme, they even supported our exhausted, beer-bloated bodies at night in our tent. But now, as Mark was floating serenely on the buoyant salt water, the unthinkable happened: Floaty thing met Karstic rock.

Any tourist brochure on Croatia will tell you it's essential to have rubber shoes on hand to combat this razor sharp Karst so it's easy to imagine who won the battle of floaty vs. karst. The image of Mark weeping softly into the still inflated pillow while the matress bubbled under like the Lusitania is forever seared into my brain.

Still, the death of Floaty didn't dampen our spirits much. As we packed up we gushed, "What a perfect day," and, "This day will stand out as one of the pinnacles of the trip," and on and on. Well, we were right.

Back on the scooter, we decided to take the road to Zavala - a harrowing mountain pass, according to Lonely Planet. Could we have a little more information PLEASE?

We approached a sign: Tunnel 1.4 km. As we rounded a bend, the mouth of the tunnel came into sight, flanked by a traffic light, currently red. A more rustic tunnel entrance could not be imagined. The tunnel was hewn out of the rock and the craggy walls were left au naturale. After about five feet, there was nothing but blackness. We pulled off a little to the side and waited for the light to turn green, our aprehension growing with every minute that ticked by, and every car that pulled up behind us. When the light turned green, we waved on all the cars ahead of us. This proved to be wise, as they raced away into the tunnel much faster than we wanted to go. We entered the tunnel, the dripping walls and unfinished dirt road illuminated by the headlights of the cars ahead of us.

Wait. Ahead of us!?!

"The lights!" We gasped together. The pitch blackness was closing in around us and the end of the tunnel was nowhere in sight. I reached around Mark with my right hand and started pushing all the buttons I could find. After what seemed like a minute or more, but was really only a few terrifying seconds, the lights popped on. We exhaled in unison, our hearts pounding to the jolts on the road.

Once out of the tunnel, we pulled over to recover and take in the view. We felt shaky, but fortified by our ordeal. If we could pull that off, we really were getting the hang of the Scooter.

We started off once more. I was gazing around at the amazing view, turquoise water and azure sky, with an occasional prudent look over my shoulder in my role as rearview mirror replacement.

"I can really see the draw of these things now," Mark yelled back to me, "I should get one!"

Then we encountered our first sharp turn.

I'll never know what was going through Mark's mind at the time. Perhaps he was entranced by the surroundings, as I was. Perchance he felt a newfound confidence and a need for speed after enduring the tunnel adventure. Whatever the cause, we entered the turn with the wind whipping through our hair and by the time Mark realized we couldn't turn that sharply at that speed, we skidded side long into the gravelly shoulder, and coming up fast on our right was a traditional Croatian guardrail - namely a stone wall. Mark squeezed the brakes, but it was just a little too late. We tore into that wall, and the wall took a piece of Mark as a keepsake.

I did a quick body inventory and realized everything was intact, if a little crunched. Then I turned my attention to Mark. Now, I will tell you now that Mark is OK. Nothing broken, in other words, but there next to that wall he had to do a bodily inventory to make sure. His right arm and leg were scraped and bleeding, yes, but it could have been a lot worse, is all I'm saying. He could have lost a limb. So all this, "I can't type," and "It hurts to sleep on my side," and "Ow, salt water stings!" is just ungrateful drivelling. (photos of the gore will follow soon!)

As soon as we had Mark cleaned up a bit, we turned our attention to the bike. We took no pictures because we're a little ashamed, but the whole right side was covered with scrapes. On the side, by where my leg would have been, there was a discernible dent and a 6" scratch. The front panel had many scratches and a hairline crack, and the paint bordering the headlight was scraped off in a patch about the size of a quarter, though thankfully it was still working. And these were just the worst dings. We knew we'd have some explaining to do.

When our nerves were sufficiently calm, we got back on the bike and by creeping around every turn and pulling over to let every car pass us, we made it to the other coast of the island. It was still hot, so we headed out to find a secluded cove. We found a nice pebbly beach (to Croations, pebbles are about the size of potatoes) and Mark gritted his teeth and waded into the water to bathe the wounds.

"It burns, IT BURNS!"

"That means it's disinfecting! Thats good!" I chimed in.

"I'm melting," he whined.

Eventually, we had to get back on the scooter and make our way back along the winding road and back through that tunnel, back to Jelsa to turn in the scooter. Honestly, we tried to stick the mirror back on and pretend like nothing happened. Mark even put on a long sleeved shirt and jeans to hide his carnage, but the mirror wouldn't stay and we knew we had to fess up.

When we pulled in to the lot, which was really just the loading area of a small produce market, the scooter man immediately saw a scratch on the side of the bike. It was pretty dark by then (as we had planned) so I made a bold move, if I may say so.

"Yes, as you can see, the mirror broke off." I produced the mirror from the hatch and waved it around hypnotically, willing him not to look at the front of the bike where the scrapes were much worse.

"How did that happen?"

"It got caught on some...branches and snapped off," I continued lamely. It seemed to work, however, because instead of continuing to inspect the bike, he went for the boss. This was a stroke of luck for us because the boss didn't look at the bike at all.

"This is OK," he said, indicating the scratch, "But the mirror...I'll have to call my supplier and you must pay for it."

"OK!" We agreed, maybe a little too eagerly. I was standing very close to the scratched side of the bike, hoping to discourage him from coming over for a closer look.

He got off the phone with his supplier and told us the damage. "One hundred and thirty-five kuna," which is about $30. We made a show of finding enough cash on us, gave it to him, and by the end he was apologizing to us for having to make us pay. We assured him it was OK, then we turned and calmly walked out the door. As soon as we were out of view, we ran for the nearest alley.

Just after our escape, on our way to buy some much needed wine, as if the destruction were following us, we saw a van crush a kids' bike.

Needless to say, the next morning we were on the first bus out of town.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

GOODBYE GERMANY (photo time!)

Goodbye Germany, we will really miss you. Stay cool and have a rad summer.

Our stay in Garmisch-Partenkirchen was by far the most relaxing part of the long vacation, and the scenery was spectacular. Above are photos from Partnaklamm and Höllentaklamm, two amazing gorges where you walk through the canyon, weaving in and out of wet tunnels and suspended catwalks, along glaciers and under waterfalls. It was amazing but it is now time to go.

We are headed to the Croatian islands, where I will unfurl my hard won 215 pound naked, brautwurst and beer filled body on the nudist beaches of the Dalmatian Islands. There will be no photos. Sorry.

This will be our final adventure before heading home, so Croatia better be "Fucking Amazing" as Joanna said, because leaving Germany is not going to be easy. See you soon Seattle.

Check out the photos below.

"Huge" head scar courtesy the Countess

You asked for it, and now you got it. It will surely make a nasty scar, and this picture doesn´t even show the other scar farther back on my head. Are you happy now? It only cost me 15€ to download that photo.

USA After the game and before, the life of a sign

American fans and Seattle friends Jaime, Chase, Shane, Jason, Joanna, and I, show our enthusiasm before the game, with our super popular sign. Then the dejection of the loss and a sign transformed.

Croatia better look like this!

This is the Puglian Italian side of the Adriatic sea, Croatia is supposed to be even better. We head to Croatia Monday.

Germany defeats Argentina

AND THE CROWD GOES WILD. We travelled to Munich to watch the Germans win in Penalty Kicks over the Argenitians. It was a riot watching the game with hundreds of crazy Germans at the huge Munich fan fest. In fact, there was almost a riot. On the train ride home, the whole train was singing and jumping and dancing, we were rocking that train good. I thought the whole thing was going to derail in the tunnel. Italy v Gemany next, GO AZZURI!

Hotel Schell

Perhaps the Magic Schell himself would like to elaborate on the amenities available at the HOTEL SCHELL?

Monday, June 26, 2006

USA - Out of Iraq and Into the Next Round

That´s what my sign at the USA-Ghana world cup match in Nurnberg Germany read. When I unfurled it, Joanna was nervous. Would we get into an argument? Would I run into a bunch of drunk Marines?

Actually the sign was a huge hit. Joanna and I met up with a Camper Van full of Americans we knew from Seattle. When I broke out the sign, they all started cracking up, but they too thought it might cause trouble, actually it made us the most popular people on the campgrounds. That is of course until after the game, when it was rendered futile by our weak showing against Ghana. Damn you Ghana, just you wait until we get our young star Freddy Adu, who was born in Ghana and now plays for the USA, to beat your ass.

At least before the game we had fun holding the sign while looking to scalp some tickets. The foriegners offered to give us a discount because they liked the sign so much, but that was still over 200 Euros each. In fact, at least a hundred people loved the sign and only two frowned upon it, but they still wanted to take a picture of it. I´m sure if you look around on the internet, someone posted a picture of that sign, but I can´t put it up until I get back. I even got a television interview, but I was too fucked up to make much sense.

"Why do you have this sign, what do you want to say to Europeans?" Asked the man with the camera and microphone

"That Bush is really bad, and people in America all don´t like the Iraq thing, even if they like Bush," that was one of my more eloquent answers.

"So why does he have so much support and why does he keep winning elections?"

"Jesus man, Jesus." And with that I ran off after a scalper, having embarrassed myself thoroughly.

The security was too tight to sneak in, and I didn´t have an apron or official looking badge to flash. Don´t worry, there will be more tales of unpaid entrances when Bumbershoot rolls around.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Trulli, Puglia Italy

These little Hobbit holes are called Trulli and they don´t allow any Misfits, because like JEM they are trulli outrageous, trulli trulli trulli outrageous

I feel terrible about that joke


Alhambra, Granada Spain

Lake Como