I need to get a dog to meet ladies

One of the oft-cited reasons for owning a pet is that is allows you to take your dog out in public in order to catch the attention of member of the opposite sex. And you know what? This sounds like a really good idea, actually. So after a quick whirl around the wonderful internet, I came across the perfect dog for me. It combined a playful spirit, friendly face, cuddly body, and that ineffable quality of cuteness that is guaranteed to get the ladies running my direction.

But imagine my horror and dismay when I went back online today to do some more reading about my dream dog, and learned that he had passed away. I suppose I can take comfort in the idea that "all dogs go to heaven", but I really think the world is a poorer place without that superpup. Now I'm sort of at a loss for what to do about that whole "attracting the ladies" bit. Oh well...looks like it's back to wearing a trenchcoat to the park and flashing women when they walk by...

If the 29 bus isn't on time, London just stops working!

Last night we had our Thanksgiving blowout for the students at our university, held at Byng Place, our lovely residence hall. The food, despite being arrayed in gigantic industrial sized tin foil serving trays, was actually really quite good. So, kudos to everyone out here who pitched in to make it such a nice evening. Which, of course, does not include me, since I'm the laziest man in America. Actually, I sort of feel bad about not helping out, but I was actually spending most of the day doing some homework, so at least I wasn't just goofing off all day and shirking work. Or so I claim.

Anyway, because it was a free dinner involving students, there is naturally going to be free booze as well, which I gave many thanks for. After a glass of wine and several beers, the suggestion comes up that go out and sample the finest nightlife London has to offer down at Leicester Square. So a group of about 12 people all shuffle out of Byng and down to the nearest bus stop to catch the good old bus 29 down to Leicester. Now, there are a few things one needs to know about transport in London. First of all, the tube system is not actually designed for human transit, but rather is a long-range psychological test devised to test the upper limits of human misery. But that has nothing to do with this story. The second thing about London Transit is that if you want to ride the bus, you need to either buy your ticket ahead of time at a machine or else have your Oyster Card handy, which you load money on to in advance.

As the bus stops for us, those of us with Oyster cards swipe our cards and hop on the bus. But here's the thing: apparently bus 29 is the single most vital cog in the mammoth machine that keeps London up and running. Only about half of the people who were with us actually made it onto the bus. One guy didn't have exact change for the ticket at the machine outside and asks if he can buy a ticket from the driver. Being the kindly old English chap that he is, he starts to yell, "that's not my problem!" Thus enraged he proceeds to slam the door in the fact of everyone else in line behind him, meaning we got to enjoy a view out the window of about six shocked expressions as the bus driver took off without them. And for the rest of the ride the bus driver is sort of yelling to nobody in particular from his little enclosed cubicle bus driver seat, completely scaring the rest of us as he swerved down the rode, and occasionally veered into oncoming lanes of traffic while he passed cars parked on the side of the road. Wow.

So all this got me to thinking: what in the bloody hell could be so vital that the bus 29 couldn't wait ten more seconds for everyone to get on board? So I did a quick search of the route map to determine what the explanation could be. I started my research at the end of the route, which was just a few stops past where we got off. I didn't see anything notable in that direction, nothing at all that would indicate a pressing need to ge there in time. No hospitals, no airports, nothing. So I started going reverse up the line on the map, and that is when I hit upon it: Holloway Prison. Yup, this bus made a stop at the local prison. Now it all made sense. You remember that Sandra Bullock/Keanu Reeves movie "Speed"? Well, instead of that, I was stuck in a real-life version called "Time." As near as I can determine, the bus driver was actually under the influence of some breakout prisoners from Holloway, who ordered him to keep the bus on schedule, or else they would blow it up. "Here's the thing bus man, if this bus doesn't make it to Trafalgar Square by 9:47 pm, a bomb on the bus will blow up. What do you do, hotshot? WHAT DO YOU DO!!" So, to all you prisoners at Holloway prison who made the bus driver leave without the rest of us, here's a hearty "piss off." Oh, and thanks for not blowing up the bus.

Happy Turkey Day!

Hey everyone! Just wanted to pass along Happy Thanksgiving wishes to everyone back in the States. We're supposed to have a Thanksgiving feast out here, but I'm not sure how much I trust the food. We have this notoriously bad kitchen area, one that is constantly dirty and covered in grease. And since we have so many people to feed, quite a bit of the food was cooked yesterday, so who knows how well they have cooled it for today. I think I might play it cool at the feast and stick to low risk foods that don't carry the risk of crippling stomach parasites with them.

So, while enjoying your turkey today, think of me eating potato chips and bread!

Oh, and special Thanksgiving greetings goes out to Jason, fresh back from Iraq, just in time for Turkey Day with his family. Glad to hear you made it back okay, amigo!

Vulgarians

If there is one thing that I have learned from living in and studying Eastern Europe, it is that it has suffered badly under communist rule. Life behind the Iron Curtain was spartan, and the political machines that ruled the region deprived many people many things in their lives. Only in the last fifteen years, after the fall of communism, have some of the things that people in the West accept as commonplace started to show up in Eastern Europe.

Sadly, there are still some things that people from that area don't enjoy. Here at my school in London, we have a large Bulgarian student contingent, and after spending a little time around them in the computer labs, I realize that there is one thing Communism took away from their people that they still have failed to reclaim: They have absolutely no "indoor voice."

You know that voice you use when you are in a very crowded bar or club that is playing incredibly loud music and you are trying to speak to someone across a table? The one where you are just short of shouting, but are instead talking in a very very loud voice? That is the voice that all the Bulgarian students use, even when sitting three feet away from someone in an otherwise silent computer lab.

So please, this Thanksgiving, while you are reflecting on all we have to give thanks for as Americans, pause and reflect about what life would be like if you couldn't talk in a normal tone of voice. Think of the discrimination you might suffer. Think about an American student who thinks of increasingly violent thoughts while in the computer lab next to these students. Think of one man who wants to visit savage beatings on these students while they yell about their soccer stars. And this Christmas, while shopping for the ones you love, please spare a few extra dollars to the Bulgarian Foundation for Normal Voiceology, which is desperately seeking a cure for this disorder.

"Oh, fetch man! That wasn't freakin' awesome at all!"

I've opined before that I love living the Western US, the land of common sense solutions to problems. That is why it warmed my heart to see that people back in my region of the US seem to still be as no nonsense and solutions oriented as I remember them. I was reading through the news when a story from Utah caught my eye. It concerned an argument about how appropriate it is to use profanity around people who strongly object to it, and one person's way to deal with people who, gosh darnit, just won't shut up! Here is the story from the KSL website:

(KSL News) Police now say an argument caused a 21-year-old man to jump from a moving truck in South Jordan.

Tyler Poulson was riding with his brothers last night when he became offended by one of them using profanity. Poulson, who recently returned from an LDS mission, threatened to get out of the truck if he continued.

One of the men, not thinking he would, told Poulson to. Earlier police said the car was going about 35 miles an hour when Poulson opened the door and jumped. He was pronounced dead on scene.

Now, it honestly is a really crappy thing this guy didn't survive, but seriously, WTF guy? Jumping from a moving car because some swears? There is a right way and a wrong way to deal with this problem. You chose...unwisely.

My trip to the world's most famous department store

This Sunday I finally got around to taking a trip over to Harrod's, which bills itself as the world's most famous department store. And considering that I have actually heard of this store prior to going to England, despite the fact that I am entirely out of the loop as far as high-brow consumer culture goes, I would have to say that label is probably entirely accurate. So, what does the most posh department store in the world look like to the eyes of a poor quasi-white trash guy from Idaho? Well, if I had to sum it up in one word, it would be this: hilarious.

Now, that is probably an unfair description, but like I said, I only gave myself one word. If I had to describe it in a little more detail, I would say it was visually an amazing place, but still had more than its fair share of the sublime and preposterous. The store itself it six levels in all, and the ground floor really is something to behold. Each separate room has its own style, and the entire level is jam packed with cafes and markets. They have different rooms for cheeses, meats, and candies, each utterly opulent. Here are a few pics I found online here, here, and here. And their central escalators go up an Egyptian themed interior, which actually looks cooler than it sounds. And the department store itself is rather enormous, which means they have a fairly great selection of stuff to browse through and peek at.

So why do I saw Harrod's is so hilarious, then? Well, for one, because it is so outrageously overpriced and so famous, most of the locals give it a pass, which means most of the people it attracts to its premises are of the wealthy traveller subset. This means that there are loads of women in their late 40's who are overtanned and wearing overtight clothes in a desperate attempt to look 19 again. And you know that movie "What Women Want", with Mel Gibson? You know, the one where he could suddenly hear the thoughts of all gals around him? Well, I had a "What Women Want" moment around these ladies, and I swear their thoughts were all screaming "Please don't let my fat businessman husband run off with some gold-digging tramp half my age! I dug that gold first, and I'll be damned if I lose it now!" And yes, you do also see a fair number of aging businessmen with their trophy arm candy. Like I said: hilarious.

To be fair, I'm quite sure I look equally hilarious to all these people who have earned more money in a week than I've seen in my whole life. After all, I am in a posh department store wearing worn out sneakers I bought three years, cheap Levis and an $8 hooded sweatshirt from Wal-Mart. Like I said, I'm white trash.

So, what else is so funny about this place? Well, some of the clothes are an absolute riot. Look, I'm not against there being expensive clothes in the world. Nice cashmere and the like really are luxurious, and expensive for a reason. And people are always going to want to show off their wealth whenever they can. That is understandable. But what I don't get are people who are so rich that they feel the need to buy clothes that are so flat out hideous just to say to the world "I don't have to look good, I'm rich. I know I look like shit, but guess what, it cost a lot!"

Examples? Well, how about the ugliest pants I've ever seen, which only cost about $800. Honestly. Those look like something the New Kids on the Block might have worn back in the day. Even if someone gave me a pair of those for free, I would simply refuse to wear them out in public. Those pants are an invitation to get your ass kicked, or, at the very least, get you sent off to the looney bin for a bit. And if that wasn't absurd enough, there was the Powerwheels on steroids gift they had in the kids section. Unlike the normal plastic cars, this was a full metal scaled down Hummer for kids. The price tag for this monstrosity? $40,000. Who...whu...I mean who...WHY? Why would you spend $40,000 on a mini-Hummer for you kids? Wow, talk about teaching them to be self-centered assholes from an early age. I'm getting visions of Britney Spears or Paris Hilton's kids in one of these someday, tearing around the lawn trying to run over the hired help. God help us all.

The final bit of comedy? Well, while searching through the Harrod's website, I decided to try and get a catalogue just to have something to flip through. And what did I find on their catalogue page but this little gem:

Hampers
The perfect gift for friends, family or colleagues. An extensive range of hampers are available for all tastes and budgets.

That's right. They only had two catalogues available to order, and the first one there was for goddamn hampers. The "perfect gift." For who, slobs? Hobos and tramps? You know what I would do if someone told me they bought me a present from the world's most posh department store and it turned out to be a bloody sodding clothes hamper? I would turn to them, stare them directly in the eye, and say just two words: Fuck you.

How else can you react to getting a damn clothes hamper for Christmas. Lord...And the fact that they actually publish an entire catalogue devoted to clothes hampers is a real gut-buster, that is. I can say without hesitation that I have never, ever dreamily windowshopped in the clothes hamper section of any store I have ever been in. Who does that? Apparently aging trophy wives, judging by the people in Harrod's.

Who knew C-3PO was a pedophile?

While visiting my friend Kai, he pulled out a DVD and said, "You have to see this, it's gonna spark some great memories for you." He popped it in, and soon enough a scratchy commercial from the early 1980's popped onto the screen. As it played before me, I couldn't believe my eyes: it was the Star Wars Underoos commercial. Amazing. Here is a quick rundown of the audio for you:

Voice over: In the not-so-distant future, on a planet called Earth...it's Underoos!

(Alternating children)
Star Wars Boba Fett is here,
That means Darth Vader's always near,
3-PO has lots of style,
And R2-D2 just makes me smile!

(All together)
Star Wars Underoos are here, yeah!
Something out of sight in underwear!

Exit Children:
R2-D2: Beep boo boo beep bop beep!
C-3PO:Don't be so ridiculous R2, Underoos are for earthlings!

Seems pretty tame, right? Well, let me set the scene a little better for you, and then maybe you'll see why this is such a disturbing commerical. First off, it features four kids, first two boys, then two girls, each one dancing and singing their line while the respective character from their Star Wars underwear jives around behind them. That's right, you have a bunch of 8-year olds in underwear prancing around with grown men inside Star Wars suits. Worst is Boba Fett doing some cut-rate robot dancing behind a blond boy in his Boba Fett tighties. Ugh. That...isn't...uh...um...never mind, yes, that actually is totally creepy. I could make a few jokes about Luke or Yoda inviting the neighborhood kids over to show off their "lightsabers", but I think you can all make up your own punch lines for this one.

But here is the worst part: I had Boba Fett Underoos when I was a kid. And I was so proud of them that I refused to wear clothes over them when I went out to play in the yard. That's right: I thought they were too cool to be covered up with nonsense like pants and simply had to show them off to the world at large. So it wasn't at all unusual to see me out on the swing in the backyard, flying through the air in my light blue Boba Fett underpants.

But now I'm feeling a little, well, uncomfortable about playing out in the yard in them. Little did I realize that all these Star Wars characters were inveterate pedophiles. This commerical really opened my eyes to the fact that these guys totally enjoy dancing with strange children in their underwear. And just what in blazes did R2 beep to 3PO to have him say he was being ridiculous and that underoos are for children? "Do you think I can take the clothes off those kids and put them on myself?", is what I'd wager he said. Now I'm having these horrible visions of Boba Fett and R2-D2 hiding out in a neighboring house, snapping photos of my jumping around in my underoos. I wouldn't be surprised if there are grainy pics of my floating around the digital realm of perverts right now. Thanks for scarring me for life, you sickos.

With this shocking news in mind, I've decided to re-write that commercial to more accurately reflect the perversions of the Star Wars Universe:

Voice over: In a not-too-distant house, spying out a window near you...it's Star Wars Underoos-fetish perverts!

(Alternating Children)
Star Wars pedophiles are here,
They look in my window and try to leer,
3-PO tries to touch me on the sly,
And R2-D2 just makes me cry!

(All Together)
Star Wars perverts are near, yeah!
Now the whole neighborhood lives in fear!

R2-D2: Beep boo boop beep!
C-3PO: Don't be ridiculous R2, of course it is okay to try to touch little kids!

Not a laughing matter...

It seems that often, while in Finland, I'm just about to take a trip when I hear about some disaster that happened before that puts a little bit of a fright into me. When I first lived there and was about to take the overnight ferry to Stockholm, someone turned to me and said, "I hope this doesn't go down like that other ship." Huh? I was soon to find out that in September of 1994, the MS Estonia sank in the Baltic on its journey from Tallinn to Stockholm. In that tragedy, out of the little more than 1,000 people on board, 852 people died. And when I got on my ferry, I found my room was in the very bottom of the ship in the indentured servant class, and I was so far down in the ship that my room was actually below the cars and trucks held in cargo on the ship. If you look at this map, you can see where my room was. Yup, that was me, clear down on floor 2. I half expected to see shirtless guys shovelling coal into the furnace and Leonardo Di Caprio walk by in his Titanic costume.

And just a few weeks ago, when I was about to take the day boat to Tallinn, I found out that the Helicopter service that runs from Helisinki to Tallinn, Copterline, had one of its copters crash into the Baltic in August, killing all 14 on board. Click here and scroll down for details.

I'm a bit ashamed to say this now, but I had actually planned on writing a joke-filled post about me hearing about these things right before I leave on a trip myself. I got as far as going to the Copterline page and seeing that they sold a ticket under the classification of "Joker", and was prepared to make a crack about trusting a pilot who looks like this.

But as I was doing some research on this topic and prepping some links, I got to reading over some of the accounts from people who survived the Estonia sinking. In particular this story and this story really got to me, and I can honestly say I don't find this whole situation that funny anymore. I know I shouldn't feel too bad; I wasn't trying to be disrespectful or anything. It's more that I just don't have the heart to try and be funny about something like this after reading about all those people on that boat.

Sorry if this post seems so glum. And it isn't like there aren't bigger tragedies out there with higher death counts, but it is just that this is one I was about to write about. I suppose I could have just not written anything at all, but the Estonia sinking especially caught my eye due to its dramatic manner and high loss of life, and I thought it might be interesting to someone out there reading.

The combover that was neither combed nor over.

So the other night I decided to go to the Opera, and I ended up having pretty great seats for it. I was on the ground floor, but towards the back so the floor gently sloped away from me, ensuring that I didn't have somebody's fat head in the way. And sure enough, it wasn't someone's head that was in the way, it was some old man's flyaway hairdo.

Now combovers have been the butt of many jokes over the years, and rightfully so. But, honestly, how often do people see an honest-to-goodness real combover these days? It's a pretty rare sight, I suspect. But I actually spotted one, or at least a variation on it. You see, while this guy may have given up on dignity and fashion sense, at least his hair still had some small bit of pride. I don't know, maybe it was programmed in at the genetic level, but his hair was simply not cooperating with "Operation They'll Never Know I'm Bald if I Pull These Five Strands of Hair Over". The hair(s) in question started on the left side of his skull and were pulled over towards his right. But, defiant as they were, these hairs stubbornly tried to make a break back for the left side of his head, and the net effect was that this guy's wispy strands of hair ended up standing almost straight up on the left side of his head, directly in my line of vision.

Luckily, like most things old men have, it didn't manage to stay at attention for very long. Call it "erectile dysfunction" if you will, but his hair simply drooped and plopped down eventually. (Yeah, that's erection burn was a lazy joke, but I'm a very lazy man.) And during intermission, it seems he tamed that beast with some pomade, as never again wandered into my line of sight.

He did, though, fall asleep throughout the performance after that. I don't know, maybe pomade makes you sleepy?

Conan O'Brien for President!

Finland has apparently become Conan O'Brien's favorite new punchline. It turns out that he and the Finnish President Tarja Halonen are long-lost twins. Check out their respective photos at the link, as well as a copy of the Finnish tabloids on this matter here, and an even closer look here. He even has commercials tailored to the Finnish audience where he opens with "Hello Suomi (the Finnish name for their country), I'm Conan O'Brien, and I'm also your president."

How awesome is that?

D.A.R.E to keep squirrels off drugs!

London's tabloid market is amongst the world's most thriving industries. The sheer volume and absurdity of the rags out here is staggering, and you always have to take what they say with a grain of salt. However, occasionally when reading the legitimate press, one comes across a story so bizarre that you have to do a double-take, and check the flag of the paper you are reading just to make sure someone didn't slip you a copy of the Daily Mirror or something.

Some time ago I read a story about the squirrels here in London. Apparently a problem that is becoming more commonplace is the incidence of junkie rodents. Huh? Well, it seems things go down like this: Squirrels forage for food in the bushes and trees they frequent. Crack heads tend to hide parts of their stash in various parks and lawns. Well, when they twain meet, you end up with squirrels happening across a bad of crack rocks, which they seem to then nibble on to see if they are edible. By eating a crack rock, they are essentially taking a extraordinarly massive hit of coke. (Imagine smoking a crack rock the size of you fist, and I think you get an idea of the scale we are talking here.) It comes as no surprise, then, that they immediately end up being addicted to that sweet sweet coke.

This leads to a problem for the squirrel, though. How to get that next fix? After all, they just lucked onto this stash, and there really aren't any rodent pushers out there that I am aware of. So now people in London report seeing squirrels with bulging eyes furiously digging deeper and deeper into the dirt, desperate to find some crack.

All this got me thinking: Quite a few people take their lunch breaks in parks, as I see a lot of folks enjoying sandwichs in the park. This increases the odds that a squirrel will find the leftover rubbish from one of these sandwiches and end up chancing across a deadly cocktail sword. So, now my biggest fear when walking through parks late at night is that a coked out squirrel (sorry, not talking about you this time, Kate Moss) will pop out of the bushes and try to mug me. The thought of those horrible little eyes goggling out at me, filled with coke-fueled rage, clutching his little plastic sword and jabbing and slashing at me while he chirps and chitters maniacally is almost too much to bear. I used to avoid parks late at night because of the weirdo guys who frequent them. Now I avoid the parks late at night because of the weirdo squirrels who frequent them.

Oh, and a special note to my sister: I remember last year that you had a family of squirrels living in your attic. You had better double-check on them to make sure that they aren't running a meth lab or cooking up some crack up there, or else you might see your home on the evening news under the banner of "Miniature Meth Lab Shocks Neighbors".

Riddle me this: Why do you need to take all the damn cologne?

Everyone knows Matthew Lesko, the guy who runs around in the Riddler costume screaming at strangers "It's all free!!!" Well, apparently this really enormously overweight guy out in Finland took his advice to heart. I was walking through a department store and giving the old sniff test to a few colognes, and had finally narrowed down my favorites when I decided grab a free sample of one. Just as I was about to reach in and take a sample packet, this guy butts in and shoves his ham-fisted appendage into the bucket and cleans out all the samples, save for one.

I was stunned. There was only one left, and he only missed it because it sort of stuck up against the side of the bin and didn't come out straight away. I expected Mr. Lesko to come traipsing in at any moment screeching, "Help yourself tubby! The government gives big grants to fragrance companies, so it's time you got something back! Take all the samples, because it's all free!!"

Regardless of how lame and classless this guy looked while taking all the free samples, I have to admit it was nevertheless impressive that big lumpy hand could so efficiently wipe out almost the entire cologne supply at the display. If nothing else, I think it shows that countless hours of scooping Cheetos into one's face hones a technique which can yield real world results. So here's to you, you greedy and beady-eyed glob of goo. Keep reaching for the stars by reaching for the Cheetos!

I'm becoming a comic book villian

While recently visiting Helsinki I came to the conclusion that I am evil. And not just run of the mill evil, but Mr. Burns-type/comic book evil. This finally sunk in when I was leaving the grocery store and started walking behind a family with a small child. The strange thing was that the mom, instead of pushing the stroller in front of her like most people do, was actually dragging it behind her, so the baby and I were face to face. And in the baby's lap was a package of candy. So what is the first thought to run through my head when I see this baby facing me and completely out of the sight of his parents? I'm embarassed to say it, but the first thought was "I bed I could take the baby's candy and his parents would never even know it."

Now, I want to make clear that I didn't actually try to take the candy. And I didn't really intend to, either. But I am a bit worried that this thought even popped into my mind. After giving it some consideration, however, I think I'm actually Two-Face from the Batman comics. He's the guy who was a normal, upstanding guy until the day that he was horribly disfigured and injured on one side of his body. This trauma split his personality in two, rendering him an unstable villian. But here's the thing: I have been having problems with one side of my body, as well. My left shoulder has been achy ever since hurting it a long time ago in the gym. My left hip has been tight for some reason, and my left big toe started bothering me after I walked around all day in a crappy pair of shoes.

I think I'm one or two more injuries to my left side away from bank-robberies and muggings. I think everyone should pray for my health, not just for me, but for their own safety as well.