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.

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

Barcelona

Alhambra, Granada Spain

Lake Como

Volcanos are cool!

I mean hot!

Rinella -Aolian Islands Sicily

Venice

The Countess is Trying to Kill Me

Yet I survive.

At this moment, Joanna and I are guests of the Countess Lieta in her apartment in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany. She has been gracious and kind enough to bring us with her to Germany, yet I fear that subtley she is trying to kill me.

On June 12, Joanna and I were making lunch. Soup and Sandwiches were on the menu and I was in charge of the soup, since I am an expert on opening cans and pouring their contents into a pot.

I bent down to grab a pot from the lower cabinet, but little did I know that the Countess had been in the kitchen only minutes before and had left the upper cabinet open. In Germany the bottom of cabinets are reinforced with two thin parallel strips of hard metal.

Finding the appropriate pot for soup, I arose. Now, anyone who has seen me perform with THE HABIT knows, when I stand up, I mean it. So, as is my custom, I stood up with great force.

"FUUUCCCKKKKKK!" I screamed as the parallel strips of metal gouged into my head.

"Are you OK?" Joanna inquired, unsurprised that I had managed to hurt myself again.

"Oh yeah baby, I´m cool," I replied, trying to play the role of tough guy, I gathered myself from the blow and even managed to get the soup on the stove top.

I then touched my head to check for a bump. Blood.

"I´m bleeding," I said as casually as I could muster. "I´m gonna go wash this out of my hair." I went to the bathroom to find that I had two huge gashes in my head. The type of wounds if one had insurance, they would surely go to the doctor to get some stitches.

I came back to the kitchen and sat down still trying to be cool, whilst I waited for the exciting conclusion of Soup and Sandwiches Germany 2006. I found that my hunger was waning and I was feeling a bit light headed.

"You look really pale," Joanna observed, now getting worried, "your lips are turning blue!"

"I think I´m gonna go lie down," I said woozily. Slowly, unlike my custom, I tried to stand up, swaying from side to side as if I were on a space-boat, unfit for space. Joanna flanked me from behind. I headed for the door, which was actually a cabinet, my sight was going blank white. Reaching for the cabinet, I passed out. Joanna caught me just before I went head first into the kitty´s litter box. I am allergic to cats and their poop.

I know that my hair is slowly receding, but I hope it doesn´t go too fast. In addition to my large funny shaped head, complete with flesh mohawk (see pointy skulls like Kareem Abdul Jamar, Alien 3, or Vitaly Potopenko) I now have two new fresh scars to go with my childhood scars.

Back to the Countess. Further evidence that my life is in danger is that on April 2nd when I was staying in the Countess Lieta´s basement, which was my temporary bedroom, I stepped on a rusty staple which was protruding from the pan-asian rugs that covered the floor. There was no antiseptic available, and it hurt like hell, but naturally I played it cool. It still stings. I haven´t had a tetnis shot in ages, but it hasn´t turned any funky colors yet, and after all it only hurts when I WALK!

Yesterday after the Countess left the apartment with the dogs, she left the burner on. Curious? But even worse the day before she gave Joanna and I a salad with raw fennel. You probably haven´t had raw fennel before, and there is a reason for that. It is deadly. In Italy they call fennel, finocchio, which coincindentally is also an Italian vulgarity for a gay man. For more on Finocchio.

So now I . . . am . . in


Feeling .

Woo

Zee . . . . wee . . . look at the lights . .

Mmmmm.

Sorry, uh, yeah, OK, hmm, MEANWHILE!

Naturally the Countess can mean me no harm, she is one of the sweetest, not to mention most intelligent people I have ever met. It is simply a matter of physics. Since Joanna and I have relied so heavily on the Countess and her family to make our trip easier and more comfortable, chaos theory would dictate that it would also bring us a equal amount of pain and discomfort. In other words, that´s Karma biting me in the ass.

Germany is fucking fantastic. I am really loving it here. This town is so gorgeous with it´s milky white rivers, steep rocky gorges, and gigantic mountain peaks. I almost feel as if I´m betraying my Italian heritage, enjoying it so much. Maybe it´s just the delicious huge beers, or the fantastic food with heaping helpings of meat and potatoes, or maybe it is that the cars actual stop for pedestrians, or that they actually wear traditional bavarian garb (just for the tourists? who cares they look so silly and cute in LederhÖsen), or that everything is clean, or that the hills are covered with wild flowers, or that everyone speaks impeccable english, or that the hills and trails and mountain pathes are covered with beer hauses every 30 minutes, or that the tempature hasn´t dropped below 80 yet, or that they take more holidays then anyone on earth (enough with the bells already!) or that the lakes and swimming pools are pristine and picturesque. I love it, I almost feel guilty. How will I continue making fun of the Germans as I have all these years? Easy. Their language.

Seriously, the silliest sounds known to man come out of these people, you haven´t lived until you´ve seen a Sylvester Stallone movie dubbed in German.

Joanna and I have a new favorite past time. When we pass a couple of Germans on a trail and they are going on with their "SlÜssen FlaÜssen Flaäuuenn Gruben Doctor Wigger Strauß. Fläbben glockön traben."

We then counter with the funniest sounds we can think of, Northwest city names and tribes.

"Snohomish, Sequim hoquim mukilteo," says Joanna.

"Sealth Sealth, Quinnalt makah tacoma," I reply, the super affluent Germans are flustered that can´t make out or language.

"Puyallup jim jam skykomish!" Joanna can´t resist the old jim jam.

I throw the Germans a quick and friendly, "GÜs got" which means "God greets you," and then agrily lauch back into Salish with Joanna.

"Kwaka ´waka ´waka kwawa" which is an actual BC tribe, "Haida Hoh."

"Chehalis tulalip mukilshoot."

"Tukwila my ass!" and with that we watch the perplexed Germans head over the meadow to another beerhaüs.

Gotta go now, the old internet cafe is shuttin down, plenty of awesome pics await you next week o´ ye devoted dozen. Gonna try and catch a couple of World Cup games next week.

Peace be with you.

I am 30!

We had a party at Angelo-s amazing apartment, in the toast above, you will notice that it looks like I am the only one having fun! Which at that moment was probably true, but I assure that 30 drinks later, things got ca-razy. Or so I have been told, since I can not remember much. Franco, although he is not pictured here, was the star of the party, since almost everyone there were his friends. Cool people too, I am really impressed that Franco does not hang out with any of the mullet touting, ripped shirt losers that you see all over Italy. About 15 people showed up and we really did have a great time, and I scored 5 bottles of Italian red wine to take to Germany with me.

Franco encouraged me to drink, a lot! So much so that I couldn-t even handle a game of Foosball. Too drunk to play Foos? It is true. I tried playing ping pong and I couldn-t even hit the ball. It was like I was on a boat in space, and it wasn-t even a space boat. Somehow I made it up the stairs and passed out. I never puked, but Joanna said hi to Ralphy the Clown for me, he said happy birthday bllggghhhhlluuugghhh! cough cough, bluggghhh, cough, flush! Blugghhhh!

I have to run, below are some teasers of the new disc of photos we just got. 1. Joanna at Pollara, 2. explosion at Stromboli, 3. Grand Canal Venice

I-m afraid I have a ton to do today before I head to Germany tomorrow, so there is little time for blogging. This is just a taste of the photos I just got back, and trust me they are beautiful. When I find a good internet cafe in Garmisch, I will blow your mind with dozens of amazing photos. Hey, I know at least a dozen people read this thing, get in on the comments section, its your chance to make fun of me and trust me, I deserve it! It will not give you spam so do it, Dobosh! Plus you can make fun of Erika the Kougar and Jeff the magic Schell if you like too.

Barcelona

Spain was fantastic, but it is good to be back in Italy where I know at least 200 words, I know about 15 in Spanish, it was ugly. What wasn-t ugly was Casa Bastllo *pictured( above. Damn these keys#@%&%^*($EWS"A:>?>S"?>"{}:"_+236

The food in Spain was great, I had a bunch of Paella negro. That-s right, we are talking squid ink negro. Squid juice color my rice black, negro, the way spy hunter smokes out the gangsters.
This is scattershot I know, I have only a minute left.

Italy rules, spain is not as good. Apperitivo is better than Tapas, and risotto is better than Paella, even if Risotto does not afford me the chance to use the term negro extraneously.

What else to say .. Oh the pressure. Germany will win the world cup, Brazil will come second, they have too many one name stars . . RONALDO, Ronaldhino, Rubinho, Kaka, Adriano, Negro, Ichirono, Aquaviva, Vidalsassoono . . .

OK they are closing. Hey Italy and Europe, I know you love American inventions, you-ve really taken to the car, and you can not get enough of the cell phone, but how about trying the shower curtain and the dryer!