It's 10:45pm on December 24th. A friday night. I'm sitting at home, drinking an Old Milwaukee, and listening to some music. This is like any other friday night to me. Go to the bar after work with my boss, get home early, and stay outta trouble. The fact that it's Christmas Eve really doesn't mean a damn thing to me. I went to the strippers and the OT before this. Not exactly full of yuletide spirit.
There is one thing I do like about Christmas though. In my never-ending quest to be anti-Christmas, I usually end up doing some entertaining and/or retarded shit on Christmas Day. Your average person probably looks back on Christmas Day's past and remembers a pretty standard 24 hours:
2008: At my parents house. Mom and dad argued. I hate my brother. Who needs 9 ties?
2007: At my brothers house. The kids got a Wii, and I wanted to shove a controller down little Billy's throat by 4:30.
2003: At my parents house. Mom and dad argued. My sister didn't show. Major drama OMG!
1996: At my parents house. I asked for a portable CD player. I got a walkman. I hate life.
And so on. My timeline is a little bit more entertaining, at least to me. So, here's a brief synopsis of some of my more interesting Christmas Days. Sure, I spent some with family too, but other than a fire poker fight or 2, it was usually pretty boring. These are my memories of the times I managed to bail on that bullshit and do something interesting. Without further ado...
2008 - I wrote about it last year. But, here's the cliff notes version of the 25th, if you don't feel like reading: A 24 hour train ride to Jasper full o' booze on the 23rd/24th led to a massive hangover that spilled over onto the 25th. The only cure was Pilsner, of course, but this was not to be. Nothing in town was open. Even our hotel bar didn't open till 5pm, which led to me basically crying in public. After it finally opened, it was less-than-fulfilling, so Len and I got the bright idea to go to the fancy lodge up the hill where actual people hang out.
Too bad it was CHRISTMAS HELL and the Disney movie cheerfulness nearly made us commit a homicide or 23. 14 dollar ceasars finally broke the drunk camels back, and after a brief stop back in the hotel bar where I purchased a 27 dollar 6 pack, Christmas was mercifully put to it's death via Comedy Roasts and my best friend Pilly.
2007 - Me, Lisa and Len all have various reasons to hate Christmas, and we figured since none of us could go on vacation, the best thing to do was to get drunk at the best bar in town (which happened to be the only bar open)...the Cambie. 194 people were invited. 3 showed. Me, Lisa, and Len. We arrived at noon. 6 other people were in the bar...which was 5 more than we expected. We set a firm no shots rule, and went to work on some 10 dollar pitchers of shitty beer, while Len's Mr Hanky doll eyed us warily.
After 8 hours of playing pool with immigrants, picking terrible music from the jukebox, taking pictures of Mr Hanky shamelessly swimming in our beers, and downing like 24 shots (we're not good at following rules), we were finally escorted from the premises. Lisa yelled "LET'S GOOO TO THE CASINOOOO" pretty much the whole way home on the skytrain before passing out, and I honestly don't remember what happened to Len. Dumping Lisa out of a cab onto her lawn at 9pm on Christmas Day while her parents looked out the window disapprovingly is way better than any shitty Christmas present I could get. That shit was GOLD!
2004 - You can read about it here, if you feel the need. If not...
Pretend you're me (but not as cool), and picture this: I wake up groggy and cotton-mouthed and take a look around. After a minute or so, my surroundings start to come into focus. I'm in a Days Inn hotel. In Anchorage, Alaska. I look over at the other bed. The person I came on this trip with isn't in said bed. This is all amusing and stuff, but our flight to Fairbanks leaves in 2 hours and going alone wasn't part of the plan. I gradually piece together the night before at Chilkoot Charlies (the best bar in the WORLD)...I came back to the hotel after nearly hiccuping draft beer all over some angry native broad. By myself. Len chose to stay. Uh oh.
While this assessment is being made, the door swings open and a fucking toasted co-pilot is standing there. He manages to make it to his bed, explaining to me that he was helping some dude change his transmission in -20 degree weather at 4am. This is highly amusing, until I inform Len that he can't go to sleep because we have to fly to Fairbanks in 2 hours. Many curse words followed.
Me and the zombie manage to get ourselves to the airport and onto the plane. Len is completely done at this point. Talking and walking is rocket science to him. The flight to Fairbanks is ridiculously scenic, and I celebrate this awesome show with an Amstel Light at 8:30am. Len dry heaves at the sight of it.
Upon arrival, we are ripped off by the only asian guy in town, who drives the taxi to our hotel. Len is asleep 0.243 seconds after we get into our room. I went to buy beer, and realized it was -37. I thought that was cool for about 20 seconds, until my face, nose, snot and beer all froze at once on the walk home. Seriously.
After Len slept off his hangover, we decided that we're going to North Pole, where Santa lives! Honestly. It's a real town with a real Santa house, like 11 miles north of Fairbanks. I know, the scrooges heading towards the heart of Christmas sounds weird, but cut us some slack, what else were we gonna fuckin do?
The lady at the hotel said Santa's house would be open. One 40 dollar cabride later, IT WAS NOT. Len pissed on his house to show him who's boss. Another 40 dollar cabride back, and we're pissed. We go looking for a restaurant for dinner. No dice. Everything was closed. Every. Single. Restaurant. In. Town. We ended up at a gas station, and we bought burritos for our Christmas dinner. I think we were asleep by 9:30pm. Goooo Christmas!
2003 - It's just me and Mikey. Jay just moved home, so we're down a roommate. In his honour, our whole goal for the day is strippers and beer, because we know he would approve. Mikey kept telling me about a poster he saw at Mugs (same peeler bar I was at today, different location) that said something about an all-day stripathon on Christmas Day. Nuthin says yuletide joy like amateur boobies, so we walked all the way down there from here (5km, give or take) in the early afternoon. Just to find out that it was closed on Christmas Day. What the fuck?
Apparently Daly can't read and it was on Boxing Day. Damn him! Either way though, we had committed ourselves to debauchery, so we went to the only place that was serving beer in all of New West...the riverboat casino. We played some blackjack and somehow we both won, probably 100 total between us, which basically doubled what we had to start with (fuck off, this was when we were young and financially irresponsible!)...so it was ON. Booze in face, pronto.
Somehow day turned to night, and some old lady was following us around, thinking we'd spend money on her or something. Obviously she was delusional, but she did give us one nugget of info - Barfly was open that night! Barfly (now The Standard) is a terrible club in New West, but it was Eden to us that night. Mikey and me ran to a cab to dodge the old lady, but she was like a fuckin' drunk FloJo and kept up with us all the way there. We jumped in, and she attempted to do so as well...but it was kind of difficult with Mikey's hand on her forehead, launching her away from the door.
So we get to Barfly...obviously, no one's there on Christmas Day. Maybe 6 people. That didn't stop Mikey from shotgunning a beer and doing a ridiculous dance on the floor that some of you have probably seen if you've hung out with him for any length of time. Suddenly we were the center of an 8 person club party...for about 10 seconds. It was about to be 9, because guess who walked in the door! The old lady! And she was PISSED. Somehow, Mikey talked her out of homicide and had her dancing within a few seconds, which was even funnier because she was easily 30 years older than everyone there.
A whole lot more liquor was consumed, and I woke up on the living room floor the next morning. That's about all I can tell you..I have no recollection of much else. Mikey eventually came out of his room and we had the same conversation we'd had countless times..."What the fuck happened?" "I dunno man." "How did we get home??" "No idea." "Do you have any money left?" "I have 5 bottlecaps and a bunch of ripped up coasters in my pocket. No money. You?" "I thought I had like 30 bucks in change, but they're all quarters. I have 6 dollars, tops." "What do we do now?" "Call Lisa and tell her to pick us up and buy us breakfast, that's what!"
In approximately 12 hours, 2007 will be repeated. I think over 160 people were invited this time. 10 SAY they're coming, but we know who's gonna show...me, Lisa, and Len. And hanky. It's gonna be a shitshow, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Merry Christmas motherfuckers. If you want to do something a little different this year, we'll be at the Cambie. Come on down. Make this a Christmas you'll actually remember.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Christmas Wish List 2009
I fucking hate this stupid holiday, but I'll get into the spirit this one time and offer the only thing worthwhile anymore - a little bit of advice. Specifically, advice to that rotund red-suited drunk that lives in a land about 11 miles north of Fairbanks. I know this, because I went to his house on Christmas Day once and he wasn't home. Len pissed on his house in retaliation.
Anyway...Santa, you fat bastard, here's how you could handle a few situations for me this year, okay? Some involve simply getting these people a present, some involve you getting off your duff and actually doing something about a situation. Without further ado...
Apple - Make the ipod designers attach something similar to a key tracer to the stupid things. Anyone remember key tracers? Where you clap or whistle, and the beeper thingy goes off and leads you to them? I need this for my ipods. I've gone through four shuffles this year. Four! At least make 'em glow in the dark/glow in the snow or something. Fuck.
Brittany Murphy - Oops. Scratch that one off the list.
Cambie Pub - Make sure they have plenty of shitty beer ready for us when we get there at noon on Christmas day. In addition, can you ask the bouncers to at least be gentle when they 86 us this time? Thanks.
DJ AM - Oops. Scratch that one off the list too.
Ex-girlfriends - Give them all coal.
Filipino lady that was singing along to her ipod at 6am this morning on the bus - Give her a swift kick in the babymaker and a right cross to the jaw. Please. No one wants to hear the "soothing" sounds of a howling cat that just stepped on a nail. At 6am. Because that's what she sounded like.
Georges St Pierre - Give him whatever he needs to so he can gain a little more weight and move up to middleweight. Believe me Santa, when he defeats Anderson Silva, you won't even need to stop in Canada next year. You'll have already given the entire country the best present EVER.
Hell -Santa, I don't know if this is in your power or not....but could you save me a nice, fiery seat down there? It's pretty obvious that all the retard/racist/sexist/filthy Jew jokes are going to catch up to me at some point.
Iceland - Just give the people of this fine country a little advice. Tell all the guys there that the rest of the world doesn't give a shit about Fall Out Boy or A-ha anymore, so you can all stop dressing like a member of those shitty bands. And for the ladies...tell them to keep being blonde and perfect. Seriously. You're all gorgeous. I love you.
Jess - I'm gonna need you to stop him from going anywhere new. Flying to Florida? Bird in the engine. Driving to North Carolina? Armed robbery around Atlantic City or so. Ferry to Nova Scotia? Sink that motherfucker, it's full of people who pay for their clothing and beer in cod anyway. In other words, don't let him wander. And try to keep his cousin's ego in check too. That one will be a lot tougher, I understand that..so Jess and I will do our best to help you out.
Kings - I know this is a tough one, but hear me out. Could you just find some way to enforce the laws of probability a little better when I play poker? When I pick up pocket kings, I'm supposed to win the majority of the hands I play with it. An ace isn't supposed to hit the flop every god damn time. I'm not supposed to be losing a shitload of cash with a hand this good. Fat guy to fat guy Santa, for reals...make this happen.
Luxembourg - You don't have to give the people of this fine country anything specific. I just threw it in here to make sure Jess knows that I'm going to Luxembourg and he's never gonna make it there! I win!
Miley Cyrus - Make her turn 18 faster so I can stop feeling so guilty every time I watch her videos on youtube. Over and over. And over. At least she's not Jojo, right guys? RIGHT?
NHL - Do everyone a favor and get Gary Bettman fired (and killed by something nasty, like scurvy!) so the league can stop moving backwards. Seriously Santa, you must have some appreciation for hockey, you live in the fucking cold. Does hockey belong in Phoenix? No. This one is high-priority, close in importance to the letter P one below.
Old Milwaukee - Give the makers of this delicious nectar whatever they ask for, because they are some of the greatest people in the world. They bring so many others so much joy. Even if they're asking for unethical stuff (immigrant children to chain up in their basement, the extermination of all Coors employees, etc), GIVE IT TO THEM.
Portugal - Nice and simple - a first-round exit from the World Cup. Highest priority.
Quinton Jackson - Just explain to Rampage that he's not an actor, he's a fighter, and all the whining in the world isn't going to make him an actor. Pick him up, carry him to the fucking cage, and let him humble Rashad Evans so I don't have to fucking hear from either of them anymore.
Roger Goodell - Pull his head out of his ass for him. And give him a sense of humor. The possession rules on catching a football shouldn't be more detailed than an Al-Queda plot to blow up a train station. Fining every guy that shows an ounce of personality is retarded. Pretend you're Chris Henry's fiancee, and throw Roger off a truck. Simple as that.
Ooh, that one was cold.
Sami Salo - Invent some sort of hybrid bubble that Sami can play in so he doesn't get hurt every 3 games. I'd say the same for Pavol Demitra, but he'd probably complain about the bubble not having Marian Gaborik in it, so he'd end up going home anyway.
Toronto - Separation. Banish the city from Canada. Banish the Leafs from my television. Before this though, make all the goofs that left the shithole for better weather and nicer people GO BACK so we don't have to hear about what a great place it is. If it's so fucking great, WHY ARE YOU HERE?
Uneducated debtors - Keep them believing their package will actually get there soon. And thank them for being deadbeats, because without these retards to find, I couldn't travel the world! You're dumb and I love you!
Village of Jasper - Wipe out every dingo-fucking Aussie that works there. Dude, they don't even know the 3 brands of Canadian beer they sell in their bars, and they're working...in Canada. Feed them to the moose, bury em in the snow, I don't care. Just make them gone.
Washington Redskins - Somehow, could you make the team hand the playcalling duties back to Jim Zorn? That "fake" field goal attempt last night was the ugliest football play I've ever seen. Ever. You guys are worse than the Lions and the Raiders COMBINED sometimes (that last comment was specifically aimed at Adam and Milo).
X - You think you could just get rid of this letter? It's fucking useless and pretty much grinds any alphabetical list to a halt.
Yellowknife - Prepare these people for the shitshow that awaits them when Len and I eventually make it there. And can you get Ice Road Truckers canceled? These tards don't deserve groupies, they're fucking truckers!
Zoos, specifically the Wellington Zoo - Make sure that animals don't stand up people who pay good money to come hang out with them. Stupid giraffe. You know what you can get him for me, Santa? A housing enclosure that's 2 feet shorter than he is. Then he'll know how I feel when I sit in the back seat of a car. Stupid giraffe.
Okay, that's enough venom for one Christmas. See y'all next year.
Anyway...Santa, you fat bastard, here's how you could handle a few situations for me this year, okay? Some involve simply getting these people a present, some involve you getting off your duff and actually doing something about a situation. Without further ado...
Apple - Make the ipod designers attach something similar to a key tracer to the stupid things. Anyone remember key tracers? Where you clap or whistle, and the beeper thingy goes off and leads you to them? I need this for my ipods. I've gone through four shuffles this year. Four! At least make 'em glow in the dark/glow in the snow or something. Fuck.
Brittany Murphy - Oops. Scratch that one off the list.
Cambie Pub - Make sure they have plenty of shitty beer ready for us when we get there at noon on Christmas day. In addition, can you ask the bouncers to at least be gentle when they 86 us this time? Thanks.
DJ AM - Oops. Scratch that one off the list too.
Ex-girlfriends - Give them all coal.
Filipino lady that was singing along to her ipod at 6am this morning on the bus - Give her a swift kick in the babymaker and a right cross to the jaw. Please. No one wants to hear the "soothing" sounds of a howling cat that just stepped on a nail. At 6am. Because that's what she sounded like.
Georges St Pierre - Give him whatever he needs to so he can gain a little more weight and move up to middleweight. Believe me Santa, when he defeats Anderson Silva, you won't even need to stop in Canada next year. You'll have already given the entire country the best present EVER.
Hell -Santa, I don't know if this is in your power or not....but could you save me a nice, fiery seat down there? It's pretty obvious that all the retard/racist/sexist/filthy Jew jokes are going to catch up to me at some point.
Iceland - Just give the people of this fine country a little advice. Tell all the guys there that the rest of the world doesn't give a shit about Fall Out Boy or A-ha anymore, so you can all stop dressing like a member of those shitty bands. And for the ladies...tell them to keep being blonde and perfect. Seriously. You're all gorgeous. I love you.
Jess - I'm gonna need you to stop him from going anywhere new. Flying to Florida? Bird in the engine. Driving to North Carolina? Armed robbery around Atlantic City or so. Ferry to Nova Scotia? Sink that motherfucker, it's full of people who pay for their clothing and beer in cod anyway. In other words, don't let him wander. And try to keep his cousin's ego in check too. That one will be a lot tougher, I understand that..so Jess and I will do our best to help you out.
Kings - I know this is a tough one, but hear me out. Could you just find some way to enforce the laws of probability a little better when I play poker? When I pick up pocket kings, I'm supposed to win the majority of the hands I play with it. An ace isn't supposed to hit the flop every god damn time. I'm not supposed to be losing a shitload of cash with a hand this good. Fat guy to fat guy Santa, for reals...make this happen.
Luxembourg - You don't have to give the people of this fine country anything specific. I just threw it in here to make sure Jess knows that I'm going to Luxembourg and he's never gonna make it there! I win!
Miley Cyrus - Make her turn 18 faster so I can stop feeling so guilty every time I watch her videos on youtube. Over and over. And over. At least she's not Jojo, right guys? RIGHT?
NHL - Do everyone a favor and get Gary Bettman fired (and killed by something nasty, like scurvy!) so the league can stop moving backwards. Seriously Santa, you must have some appreciation for hockey, you live in the fucking cold. Does hockey belong in Phoenix? No. This one is high-priority, close in importance to the letter P one below.
Old Milwaukee - Give the makers of this delicious nectar whatever they ask for, because they are some of the greatest people in the world. They bring so many others so much joy. Even if they're asking for unethical stuff (immigrant children to chain up in their basement, the extermination of all Coors employees, etc), GIVE IT TO THEM.
Portugal - Nice and simple - a first-round exit from the World Cup. Highest priority.
Quinton Jackson - Just explain to Rampage that he's not an actor, he's a fighter, and all the whining in the world isn't going to make him an actor. Pick him up, carry him to the fucking cage, and let him humble Rashad Evans so I don't have to fucking hear from either of them anymore.
Roger Goodell - Pull his head out of his ass for him. And give him a sense of humor. The possession rules on catching a football shouldn't be more detailed than an Al-Queda plot to blow up a train station. Fining every guy that shows an ounce of personality is retarded. Pretend you're Chris Henry's fiancee, and throw Roger off a truck. Simple as that.
Ooh, that one was cold.
Sami Salo - Invent some sort of hybrid bubble that Sami can play in so he doesn't get hurt every 3 games. I'd say the same for Pavol Demitra, but he'd probably complain about the bubble not having Marian Gaborik in it, so he'd end up going home anyway.
Toronto - Separation. Banish the city from Canada. Banish the Leafs from my television. Before this though, make all the goofs that left the shithole for better weather and nicer people GO BACK so we don't have to hear about what a great place it is. If it's so fucking great, WHY ARE YOU HERE?
Uneducated debtors - Keep them believing their package will actually get there soon. And thank them for being deadbeats, because without these retards to find, I couldn't travel the world! You're dumb and I love you!
Village of Jasper - Wipe out every dingo-fucking Aussie that works there. Dude, they don't even know the 3 brands of Canadian beer they sell in their bars, and they're working...in Canada. Feed them to the moose, bury em in the snow, I don't care. Just make them gone.
Washington Redskins - Somehow, could you make the team hand the playcalling duties back to Jim Zorn? That "fake" field goal attempt last night was the ugliest football play I've ever seen. Ever. You guys are worse than the Lions and the Raiders COMBINED sometimes (that last comment was specifically aimed at Adam and Milo).
X - You think you could just get rid of this letter? It's fucking useless and pretty much grinds any alphabetical list to a halt.
Yellowknife - Prepare these people for the shitshow that awaits them when Len and I eventually make it there. And can you get Ice Road Truckers canceled? These tards don't deserve groupies, they're fucking truckers!
Zoos, specifically the Wellington Zoo - Make sure that animals don't stand up people who pay good money to come hang out with them. Stupid giraffe. You know what you can get him for me, Santa? A housing enclosure that's 2 feet shorter than he is. Then he'll know how I feel when I sit in the back seat of a car. Stupid giraffe.
Okay, that's enough venom for one Christmas. See y'all next year.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Iceland, Part 2
Only took me like 3 months to get around to part 2 this time. Impressive! Might as well get right to it.
Bitch's flight didn't arrive till close to midnight, so he didn't end up getting to the hotel until just after 1am. I still wasn't dry from the mother of all rainstorms earlier, but the frosty hotel bar beers were helping me ignore it. 8.50 a beer though...god damn. The bar supposedly closes at midnight, but they stayed open to serve me until Jess got there. The hotel staff was quirky, but generally pretty nice.
So finally, bitch arrives. We took about 3 minutes to drop off his shit and load up our backpacks, and then it was pillaging time! We made our way over to the water, sat down, and cracked the first of many Icelandic beers. We were staying in an area that was fairly busy during the day, but absolutely dead at night. For the first hour that we sat on the rocks down by the water, I think we saw 2 cars total. It was dark, but not for long.
We had walked halfway to town along the Seabraut, but it was obviously dead and getting sort of repetitive, so we decided to double back and go the other way. After a while we came upon this strange structure. It's kind of hard to describe...it was a circular hill, with a building sticking out of the flattened top of the hill. Basically, someone built a hill over a building...or something. Here, a pic should clear it up a bit:
I know, Bitch looks extremely gay in the pic. You get used to it after a while.
So, we decided to climb the thing and sit up there and drink for a while. It wasn't anything really special, it was just...odd. We nicknamed it "The hatch", of Lost fame. If you haven't seen Lost...well, then the reference is lost on you. Pun intended.
Many more beers were consumed as we walked along the water, past more strange structures, a tiny-ass rock beach, and eventually right onto someone's property. There was a house there that amazed the drunks standing in their driveway (us). There were all sorts of carvings and gadgets and statues n shit all over the property. It was extremely odd. Somehow we never clued into the fact that we were basically trespassing and doing laps around someone's house at 3am. We're lucky the Icelandic popo didn't show up...but I don't think their tractors move very quickly, so we had ample getaway time.
After getting our fill of the house (which we labeled the Lost house, even though it has sweet fuck all in common with any house on Lost...go beer!), we wandered even further down the coast until the sun started coming up. In the same place it went down. At 4am. I still have trouble wrapping my head around that, and I saw it happen 3 more times before I left. We took pics and pondered intelligent stuff we had no business talking about with that much booze in us, then the moment stuck. The intellectual highpoint of the entire trip.
Birds!
We came across a big...uh, gaggle? of these weird-looking birds. Geese, but not quite geese. They weren't big enough. They were just standing around in a field, doing what pseudo-geese do, until Jess saw them. Jess has this thing about going fucking berzerk on animals. Don't ask me why. He just does. So, Jess sees them. He doesn't utter one word, he just charges and starts screaming. I know it sounds completely retarded, but I can't do it justice with words. I've seen it a few times already too...but this one was special, because who knows how Icelandic pseudo-geese will react to a chubby drunk berzerker, right?
Well, they ran. And they hissed. And they ran some more. Jess pranced after them, trying to go in 3 directions at once and falling down a bunch of times, until his energy reserves ran out. I fell down too...from laughter. Here are a couple pics of bitch in all his brilliance...
Around 6am, we decided to walk back to the hotel, after watching a HUGE ship go down some fjord and dock. Jess said cruise ship. I said cargo ship. We argued about it all the way back. Oh, and we fell down a lot, and spilled beer all over ourselves. We're classy like that.
What did we do when we got back to the hotel? Drank vodka and energy drinks for many hours until we were way too wired to sit in a tiny hotel room. Around that time, Marissa got to Iceland, but the person she was going to stay with didn't. So she ended up coming over to hang out with us. I don't think she was prepared for two drunken retards, but hey...at least we're entertaining. I started making fun of her about 3 seconds after I met her, and didn't stop until she left. I'm charming like that.
So, the 3 of us wandered downtown. We ended up stopping at a cafe/restaurant thinger called Cafe Paris, which just happened to have the hottest waitress of all time. I'm pretty sure she didn't really enjoy me staring a(nother) hole in her, but I was drunk and couldn't help myself. I'm writing this months later, and I still think she's insanely hot. Not as hot as the flybus ticket girl, but it was close.
After walking around for a while, we headed back down the seabraut to the hotel. Jess did flips on the grass and I threw his shoes into traffic. You know, man stuff. Marissa just looked on at our immaturity with disdain, but that's because she's from Buffalo and nothing fun ever happens there, so she didn't understand what she was witnessing. I think she would have left long ago...if she had anywhere to go.
Now that we had filled our day with Icelandic stuff and killed some time chillin, what was there to do? Drink at the hatch, that's what! We loaded up our backpacks and headed on over, climbed up the hill, and got drunk all over again. They talked nerd for a while, while I rolled down the hill a few times. I know some nerdspeak, but not like these two. They're both extremely fluent (and extremely lame). Whenever I'd get involved and try to steer the convo towards something not so fucking engineery, I'd get ignored while they argued over who has the nicer pocket protector or some shit. I had beer though, so it was all good.
This is the hatch lid:
That's how the polar bear got to the island.
When I finally got them to talk about normal stuff, I'd try to tell Marissa something about myself...and she'd already know it. I guess Jess decided to prepare her for possibly meeting me by doing what he does best...talking. And telling her EVERYTHING about me. I mean, I know I'm not supremely interesting or anything, but have you ever met a stranger and they already know your complete bio? It made for a pretty one-sided convo.
Me - "So, I guess you like the Sabres. I feel sorry for you."
Her - "I know you like the Canucks and you went to the World Juniors with Jess and yelled at Americans and you have been to a lot of other cities to watch hockey and you just got back from New Zealand and you like long quiet walks in the park and your birthday is July 30th and you're left-handed and you make fun of Jim a lot."
Me - "You know Jim?"
Her - "No."
Me - "Uh...I have no idea what to say now. You're chubby*."
*Before you get mad at me for calling a girl chubby, she weighs like 63 pounds. She's not chubby. I just like attaching completely unrealistic qualities to people to amuse myself. Like telling Jim he's smart.
So this went on for..a long time. Booze in face, fall down hill, rinse, repeat. Sun went down again, sun came up again...it was all somewhat routine the 2nd time around. We stagger back to the hotel. It's daytime again. Jess does what he always does when the entertainment stops for 10 seconds...he falls asleep. On the floor.
I try to fall asleep as well. Nyet. Not happening. Vodka/energy drinks + not adjusting to the time zone had Timmy Wide. Fucking. Awake. I watched The Hurt Locker (awesome movie) and tried to stave off the hangover. And fail miserably at it. I was hurtin for certain.
Jess slept until mid-afternoon while I laid there, wide awake, feeling like I was about to die. He got up and went for food and a walk with Chubby, but I couldn't move. Eventually he decided to take a tour out to a gigantic waterfall and Geysir (the geyser that all geysers are named after). I got all prepped to tough it out and go...and my body finally decided it was sleepy time. What the fuck? So, Jess and Marissa went on the 6 hour tour, and I fell asleep. At 4:30pm.
Yes, I know...I completely fucked this trip up to this point. So far I had seen barely any of Reykjavik, despite being there for 3 days. I hadn't gone on the main tour that every visitor takes. I hadn't been to a pub yet. I hadn't been to the main harbor yet. Hell, I hadn't talked to one Icelandic person that wasn't selling me something yet. This definitely wasn't a normal vacation for me. Did it get any better? You'll find out soon enough that it did not.
Bitch's flight didn't arrive till close to midnight, so he didn't end up getting to the hotel until just after 1am. I still wasn't dry from the mother of all rainstorms earlier, but the frosty hotel bar beers were helping me ignore it. 8.50 a beer though...god damn. The bar supposedly closes at midnight, but they stayed open to serve me until Jess got there. The hotel staff was quirky, but generally pretty nice.
So finally, bitch arrives. We took about 3 minutes to drop off his shit and load up our backpacks, and then it was pillaging time! We made our way over to the water, sat down, and cracked the first of many Icelandic beers. We were staying in an area that was fairly busy during the day, but absolutely dead at night. For the first hour that we sat on the rocks down by the water, I think we saw 2 cars total. It was dark, but not for long.
We had walked halfway to town along the Seabraut, but it was obviously dead and getting sort of repetitive, so we decided to double back and go the other way. After a while we came upon this strange structure. It's kind of hard to describe...it was a circular hill, with a building sticking out of the flattened top of the hill. Basically, someone built a hill over a building...or something. Here, a pic should clear it up a bit:
I know, Bitch looks extremely gay in the pic. You get used to it after a while.
So, we decided to climb the thing and sit up there and drink for a while. It wasn't anything really special, it was just...odd. We nicknamed it "The hatch", of Lost fame. If you haven't seen Lost...well, then the reference is lost on you. Pun intended.
Many more beers were consumed as we walked along the water, past more strange structures, a tiny-ass rock beach, and eventually right onto someone's property. There was a house there that amazed the drunks standing in their driveway (us). There were all sorts of carvings and gadgets and statues n shit all over the property. It was extremely odd. Somehow we never clued into the fact that we were basically trespassing and doing laps around someone's house at 3am. We're lucky the Icelandic popo didn't show up...but I don't think their tractors move very quickly, so we had ample getaway time.
After getting our fill of the house (which we labeled the Lost house, even though it has sweet fuck all in common with any house on Lost...go beer!), we wandered even further down the coast until the sun started coming up. In the same place it went down. At 4am. I still have trouble wrapping my head around that, and I saw it happen 3 more times before I left. We took pics and pondered intelligent stuff we had no business talking about with that much booze in us, then the moment stuck. The intellectual highpoint of the entire trip.
Birds!
We came across a big...uh, gaggle? of these weird-looking birds. Geese, but not quite geese. They weren't big enough. They were just standing around in a field, doing what pseudo-geese do, until Jess saw them. Jess has this thing about going fucking berzerk on animals. Don't ask me why. He just does. So, Jess sees them. He doesn't utter one word, he just charges and starts screaming. I know it sounds completely retarded, but I can't do it justice with words. I've seen it a few times already too...but this one was special, because who knows how Icelandic pseudo-geese will react to a chubby drunk berzerker, right?
Well, they ran. And they hissed. And they ran some more. Jess pranced after them, trying to go in 3 directions at once and falling down a bunch of times, until his energy reserves ran out. I fell down too...from laughter. Here are a couple pics of bitch in all his brilliance...
Around 6am, we decided to walk back to the hotel, after watching a HUGE ship go down some fjord and dock. Jess said cruise ship. I said cargo ship. We argued about it all the way back. Oh, and we fell down a lot, and spilled beer all over ourselves. We're classy like that.
What did we do when we got back to the hotel? Drank vodka and energy drinks for many hours until we were way too wired to sit in a tiny hotel room. Around that time, Marissa got to Iceland, but the person she was going to stay with didn't. So she ended up coming over to hang out with us. I don't think she was prepared for two drunken retards, but hey...at least we're entertaining. I started making fun of her about 3 seconds after I met her, and didn't stop until she left. I'm charming like that.
So, the 3 of us wandered downtown. We ended up stopping at a cafe/restaurant thinger called Cafe Paris, which just happened to have the hottest waitress of all time. I'm pretty sure she didn't really enjoy me staring a(nother) hole in her, but I was drunk and couldn't help myself. I'm writing this months later, and I still think she's insanely hot. Not as hot as the flybus ticket girl, but it was close.
After walking around for a while, we headed back down the seabraut to the hotel. Jess did flips on the grass and I threw his shoes into traffic. You know, man stuff. Marissa just looked on at our immaturity with disdain, but that's because she's from Buffalo and nothing fun ever happens there, so she didn't understand what she was witnessing. I think she would have left long ago...if she had anywhere to go.
Now that we had filled our day with Icelandic stuff and killed some time chillin, what was there to do? Drink at the hatch, that's what! We loaded up our backpacks and headed on over, climbed up the hill, and got drunk all over again. They talked nerd for a while, while I rolled down the hill a few times. I know some nerdspeak, but not like these two. They're both extremely fluent (and extremely lame). Whenever I'd get involved and try to steer the convo towards something not so fucking engineery, I'd get ignored while they argued over who has the nicer pocket protector or some shit. I had beer though, so it was all good.
This is the hatch lid:
That's how the polar bear got to the island.
When I finally got them to talk about normal stuff, I'd try to tell Marissa something about myself...and she'd already know it. I guess Jess decided to prepare her for possibly meeting me by doing what he does best...talking. And telling her EVERYTHING about me. I mean, I know I'm not supremely interesting or anything, but have you ever met a stranger and they already know your complete bio? It made for a pretty one-sided convo.
Me - "So, I guess you like the Sabres. I feel sorry for you."
Her - "I know you like the Canucks and you went to the World Juniors with Jess and yelled at Americans and you have been to a lot of other cities to watch hockey and you just got back from New Zealand and you like long quiet walks in the park and your birthday is July 30th and you're left-handed and you make fun of Jim a lot."
Me - "You know Jim?"
Her - "No."
Me - "Uh...I have no idea what to say now. You're chubby*."
*Before you get mad at me for calling a girl chubby, she weighs like 63 pounds. She's not chubby. I just like attaching completely unrealistic qualities to people to amuse myself. Like telling Jim he's smart.
So this went on for..a long time. Booze in face, fall down hill, rinse, repeat. Sun went down again, sun came up again...it was all somewhat routine the 2nd time around. We stagger back to the hotel. It's daytime again. Jess does what he always does when the entertainment stops for 10 seconds...he falls asleep. On the floor.
I try to fall asleep as well. Nyet. Not happening. Vodka/energy drinks + not adjusting to the time zone had Timmy Wide. Fucking. Awake. I watched The Hurt Locker (awesome movie) and tried to stave off the hangover. And fail miserably at it. I was hurtin for certain.
Jess slept until mid-afternoon while I laid there, wide awake, feeling like I was about to die. He got up and went for food and a walk with Chubby, but I couldn't move. Eventually he decided to take a tour out to a gigantic waterfall and Geysir (the geyser that all geysers are named after). I got all prepped to tough it out and go...and my body finally decided it was sleepy time. What the fuck? So, Jess and Marissa went on the 6 hour tour, and I fell asleep. At 4:30pm.
Yes, I know...I completely fucked this trip up to this point. So far I had seen barely any of Reykjavik, despite being there for 3 days. I hadn't gone on the main tour that every visitor takes. I hadn't been to a pub yet. I hadn't been to the main harbor yet. Hell, I hadn't talked to one Icelandic person that wasn't selling me something yet. This definitely wasn't a normal vacation for me. Did it get any better? You'll find out soon enough that it did not.
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