Football season is upon us, which means I'm pumped. It also means that I'm getting excessively annoyed by many happenings.  As such, I have felt compelled to create my own list of people I'm currently hating.  Keep in mind, I have a short fuse, and am also quite forgiving.  Clearly, I'm a football fan.  So the list is dominated with football references.  But here we go.

10) T.O.
Duh.  Who in the world can create a top ten and NOT put TO on it?  Not me.  This is a love/hate relationship though.  When I watch the highlights, I hate him.  When I watch the games, I don't.  I don't know what it is.  However, today I must take an official stance.  And today, I do not love him.  Sure he's a friggin' miracle maker and can catch any ball put within a 6 foot radius of him, but must he show-boat?  Seriously.  We all know you're awesome.  Give the ball back to the ref and quit acting like an idiot. 

9) Tony Romo
I know... it's beginning to look like a pattern.  I don't hate the Cowboys though.  Just TO and Romo.  Why do I detest Romo, you ask.  One word: Hype.  Let's face the facts, he's not a great QB.  He's just surrounded by people who can turn his shit into gold (I'm looking at TO).  I'll tell you what... if he was with Miami, they'd be 1-15 again.  Yea, I said it.  Romo is kinda crap.  Oh, and Romo, you're girlfriend's a douche.

8) Floyd Mayweather
Yea, this one I'm kinda torn about too.  I hated him up until his final match.  Honestly.  Pure hate.  My hate was only aggrevated by his fight with Oscar when he came out in that damn sombrero.  What a douche... but my hate lessened to more of a wishy-washy dislike during his fight with Ricky Hatton.  The Brits acted like classless assholes, and Pretty Boy Floyd cried when he won (I should mention that I'm a fan of grown men crying... as long as I'm not dating them).  But since I'm not a very hateful person, and most of his career was spent on my bad side, he makes the list. 

7) Tom Brady
Now, it's not very often that I decide to hate on a delicious piece of man-meat like Tom Brady.  But today is one of those days.  I don't know why, but he rubs me the wrong way.  I just don't like him.  I can't even put it into words... but his failures do not go unnoticed.  Maybe it's because he dates a Brazilian supermodel and I'm pissy that I don't stand a chance... Maybe it's the 5 sacks in the last Super Bowl that got under my skin.  I honestly don't know.  But, I'm kinda glad he's out for the season.  I know, it's bad that someone makes this list and I can't even say why.  But hey, it's MY list.

6) Novak Djokovic
I'm a fan of grown men crying, but I'm NOT a fan of grown ass men acting like pansies.  I'm just going to let Andy Roddick do the talking for me on this one: "Bird flu, Anthrax, SARS... He's either quick to call the trainer, or he's one of the most courageous guys of all time." Man up, Novak.  Man up.

5) OJ Simpson
The only reason he's not closer to #1 is because he's irrelevant.  I'm tired of him always getting in trouble.  I'm tired of him being above the law... and I damn sure think his book about the murders was classless.  OJ gets an A+ for being a douche, and fails at being a decent human being.  Stop breaking the law.  Stop it.  (You too Michael Vick.)

4) Kobe Bryant
He's named after expensive beef... Shaq doesn't like him... He's a philanderer... the list goes on.  Don't get me wrong, I think he's an awesome player, but I just don't like him on a personal level. 

3) Tonya Harding
Congratulations Tonya.  You get to be the only girl on my list.  Do I really even need to talk about why she makes the list?  I can sum it up pretty quickly: Wedding Porn and Kerrigan.  Besides that, she was one of those people that loved drama.  In fact, the competitions didn't even feel right if she didn't have some sort of crisis.  She sucks at life.

2) Tennessee Titan Fans
How DARE you boo Vince Young!  He's a God among men.  Have you no shame?!  He took your crap team to the friggin' playoffs and you're gonna boo him?!  NO.  Absolutely NOT.  I'm gonna boo you, Tennessee.  BOOOOOOOOO!!  I've never been more livid in all of my football-watching life as I was when I watched a legend get booed by his fans (and Merill Hoge... you can shut you're mouth too).

1) Your Girlfriend
I understand.  She's cute, and she wants to come to the sports bar and watch the game with you.  But if she doesn't stop complaining about how loud it is... she might meet her demise the next time we meet in the bathroom.  Don't get me wrong... I LOVE female fans.  I think it's awesome.  In fact, I am one.  But honestly, you need to give her the basics before you take her out in public.  It embarrasses ME when she cheers for the wrong team.  Oh, how do I know she's cheering for the wrong team?  Because she's wearing a damn pink and white Romo jersey and just cheered when he threw an interception.  Maybe you should cut her off at 2 cherry vodka sours or something, but I can't handle it anymore. 

Alrighty!

Ike hit at about 2.30 in the morning.  I wish I could have taken some great photos, but my camera phone doesn't allow it.  Additionally, I slept like a big baby through most of the storm.  Storms are like Nyquil to me.  They hit, I sleep.  I woke up several times to my Grandma shouting and to some great big ole limbs falling on the house. 

At about 6.30 am the eye of the storm passed.  Grandma and I went outside to take a gander.  It was pitch black outside.  Except, the sky was a dark glowing purple.  Behind all the mess of clouds, the sun was trying to rise and it made the sky glow, but I couldn't see anything except black silhouettes against the purple sky. 

Needless to say, the eye was very uneventful and I went back to sleep.  I woke up right before the back half of the storm hit.  You could hear it coming.  It didn't sound like a tornado, but you could hear the wall of storm approaching... like a train.  It got louder and louder... then BOOM as it hit the wall in my room (which faced the storm).  The house shook.  My window was the only storm-facing window that we didn't board up (we couldn't get the screws into the brick), so I was slightly worried about debris flying in.  I fell asleep again and only woke up sporadically through the night as trees fell and stuff hit the house. 

When the dangerous portion of the storm passed, the neighbors were outside assessing the damage and picking up the pieces.  It was still pouring rain, but that didn't stop anybody.  People were pulling trees off their houses and cars, removing boards, checking on neighbors, picking up fences, and cleaning up the debris.  The streets were relatively clear and everything was as orderly as possible before it even stopped raining. 

Grandma and I drove around for a bit to see the damage.  It was amazing.  Kids were headed down to one of the flooded streets with rafts and wakeboards in tow.  We went down there to see.  It was flooded up to our knees.  Huge trees were snapped clean in half and many were uprooted.  We drove over to my Papa's house (he evacuated to Dallas) to assess some damage.  They hadn't cleaned up their neighborhood, so it was like dodging landmines.  We drove over several downed power lines (you really can't see them), and dodged large trees.  Luckily, his house was relatively undamaged, but his trees suffered. 

I have quite a few pictures of the aftermath, but my phone isn't cooperating, so I can't download them right now.  There are some photos on the KHOU website and a lot of information about the storm.  The story is that it could take as long as 30 days to restore power.  I sure hope not.   

I reckon now is a good time to volunteer.

Just to let everybody know, Danielle's fine. The eye of Hurricane Ike passed right over where she was this morning and I'm sure she is going to have some great stories to write but unfortunately the electricity has been out in Houston since well before Ike got there and she won't be able to blog until it comes back on and internet access is back up.

Drop her a note if you have been reading the blog entries and let her know you're out there waiting for her to get back online.

So... I came down to my Grandma's place in Houston to help her prep for Hurricane Ike.  We spent all day getting last minute items, doing laundry, storing stuff in the garage, and boarding up her windows.  Everyone in this part of the neighborhood seems to be riding out the storm, and if it gets too bad we'll probably go to a shelter. 

Nonetheless, I realize that my British friends don't usually get to see stuff like this... so I'll try and post pictures (Actually, I'm going to text the photos to my folks, and they'll put them on here).  Ike is not supposed to hit for another 12 hours or so, but I have some pictures of houses and the clouds starting to roll in.  It won't hit until the dead of night, so I might not even be able to get any good shots or videos.  However, it's a big ass storm, so it may still be rockin' when the sun comes up. 

Wish me luck!  Hurricane Party '08!!

We're about 12 hours out.  Here's the VERY outskirts of the storm.
Neighbor's house.

We're now about 6-7 hours away... I've got a countdown going.  The winds are picking up and raccoons are going nuts.  Poor things.

Photos are pretty poor quality... camera phone.

It's been big week with some highs and lows. 

As it stands, the Thailand Funds are at exactly $0.  This news is bittersweet to me.  At least this means I'll be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas instead of trotting halfway around the world eating bugs and playing with elephants.  Although, I was certainly looking forward to the prospects of the Full Moon Party.  The show must go on, and if I expect to make it early next year, I better get my head in the game. 

Friday, I received a lovely call from a great friend of mine saying her and her boyfriend got into a fight.  As I am the only friend of her's that her boyfriend doesn't like, I am the clear choice for who to hang out with in this situation.  I took her dancing, and an impromptu dance-off broke out with me and several guys on the dance floor.  Needless to say, I dominated.  This was more a testament to my creativity and willingness to look like an asshole, rather than actual skill and technical abilities.  I inspired bad dancing in dozens of people that night, and feel I might have made the world a better place. 

Sunday, I went down to the river with Staci.  That's always a good time.  It did, however, bring back memories of the last time I went to the river and someone's turd ended up in my tube.  No, it was not mine, but it continued to follow me despite my honest attempts to swim far away.  Anytime I thought I had paddled far enough, it would pop back up to say hi.  My throat hurt for 3 days after that, and I'm pretty sure that's because I accidentally touched it.  Note to all:  Please don't poop in the river. 

That day ended with a night of competitions at the local Irish pub.  I banked in darts, sealing the deal with two bullseyes in one turn, and annihilated in some pool and shuffleboard.  I then suffered career-ending injuries playing video bowling.  Staci insisted that I sit out the next couple of frames when blood started dripping onto the floor.  I protested, but realized she was right and spent the next ten minutes at the bar talking to the male bartenders about the virtues of not placing tables near video games.  I walked away from that conversation with two phone numbers and a band aid. 

My injuries are making working out slightly difficult and uncomfortable.  If I hadn't completely destroyed my camera during the last girls' night out, I would take a picture and post it.  However, the fact remains that I am an idiot and have no capabilities to post gross pictures online. 

I checked my receipts the next day and realized I may have left an exorbitantly large tip at the Irish pub.  Apparently, I wrote "one million dollars" on the tip line.  I hope they only clocked me for $5, which is what I would have left if I wasn't such a douche bag.  But hey, that's the kind of night it was. 

I did convince the girls to go actual bowling today.  Kalyn crushed the competition, while Tanya and B did reasonably well.  I managed to gutter 13 attempts and did not break 30.  What makes this even more sad is that I was putting actual effort into this game, and I really wanted to win.  I had Big Lebowski dreams, and was devastated at my inability to perform.  I hate playing games that I'm not good at, so I am officially hanging up my bowling shoes.  Don't ask me to bowl.  I quit.

We finished up tonight by heading down to the local sports bar to watch the Olympics.  I was in bed by midnight, but the burrito I ate is fighting me and I can't get back to sleep.  I'm now at the business center and it's 4.30 in the morning.  I think this place might be haunted... but I'm not sure.  If it's not haunted, there is definitely something fishy going on. 

I think I'm going to head back to my apartment and watch Anchorman until I fall asleep.  I've got a big day tomorrow and have every intention of getting a lot of work done. 

(Side note:  I watched Pineapple Express last night.  Stellar movie.  Definitely watch it!)

Alright.

Ok...

Perhaps I should dedicate this chapter in my life to finding money for Thailand, and staying out of trouble in the ATX.  So far, that's all that's been going on. 

I went to the research screening yesterday and after two and a half hours of medical screening, I am denied entry into the experiment.  Basically, the screening started going downhill after I was told I would be given doses of opiate inhibitors before I was given the opiates.  That took all the fun out of it.  I stayed the course and tried to finish my screening anyway.  Then the screeners checked my veins and said they were too small for the 80 blood draws necessary, and that it would be torture for me.  Which, I could have told them.  The last time I did an experiment there, they blew out the veins in both my arms and had to draw from my hands.  By the end of that study, I looked like an inexperienced heroin addict and had to carry my research papers with me for two weeks (incase I got pulled over by the cops).  They were truly sad to see me go.  I had been entertaining them for the past three hours with frequent Anchorman quotes inserted into the screening questions.  Needless to say, the interview took longer than necessary.  Apparently, a statement on leatherbound book ownership is not the appropriate answer to a question regarding my profession. 

So here I am today looking for ways to make three thousand dollars.  I reckon I'll have to keep the blog updated with my progress and schemes.  Nonetheless, Tanya (my new roomie) and I have been keeping ourselves entertained with stalking the cute upstairs neighbor.  We call him Guitar Hero.  Our infrequent encounters have caused us to compile a list of things we know about him.  So far here's what we have:

-He has a weiner dog.
-He likes to walk his weiner dog.
-He has a herd of elephants that do aerobics upstairs at all hours of the day.
-He owns Guitar Hero and a Wii (this is debatable).
-His name begins with a K.
-He grills.
-He has a younger brother that sleeps too much.
-He may or may not have a stud finder.
-He drives somewhere... but we're not sure where, and we're not sure what kind of car he has.
-He has longish hair.


It's not a lot... but considering the fact that we've never spoken to him, it's quite substantial.  We have many plans to invite him to non-existent parties and challenge him to a Guitar Hero competition, but I'm thinking we prefer our transient crush better.  Afterall, it has been my experience that cute guys are always cuter when they don't talk. 

We've also been decorating our apartment with oversized fixtures and pictures that are too big for Tanya's car.  My wonderful engineering skills ensured that we made it home with the picture... not in a very safe manner though.  It turns out that my innate ability to make even menial tasks into an "issue" has not been lost.  I've also discovered that we both lack situational awareness and have been in quite a few pickles; including Tanya driving a significant distance going the wrong way down a one-way street with me screaming it's the wrong way and Tanya shouting back that it's no big deal. 

For those keeping tally, it's been 1 week and 5 days since I've had a drop of alcohol.  Completely unintentional, yet surprising. 

I reckon I should get some work done.  I'll try to keep updated with travel-related stuff as it comes at me.  Those that know me will be excited (or frightened) to hear that I have a few pseudo-dates coming up.  Awkwardness and hilarity should ensue. 

I'm not traveling at the moment... but if you have any great travel stories or anything, feel free to let me know and I'll post 'em. 

I know... I haven't updated in a really long time.  Basically, I've had a lot going on: a car wreck, a computer crash, and moving to Austin.  I'm officially an Austinite again, and have figured out how I'm going to make my money for Thailand.  Human Guinea Pig.  I'm checking into the research clinic on Monday and will check out two weeks later, $2600 richer.  Turns out they need human subjects for opiates... and I'm a very willing human.  So, come Monday I may do a little experimentation and see if my writing improves with increased useage of illicit substances.  Look forward to many new blogs... and me subsequently removing them once the high is gone. 

Nonetheless, our dear friend Dunja has sent us a message from Cuba... Let us proceed...


Cuba: Better with Lincoln

dear faithful readers:
 
we are still having a wonderful time in cuba. jason and lincoln have joined us now too. for those who don't know, lincoln is a friend of sam's from school. he studies journalism and has a nice girlfriend.
 
we arrived in baracoa a few days ago, after spending four hours in a car without seatbelts, the latest in our list of inappropriate vehicles. the driver blasted a combination of aqua and other eurotrash music (which i enjoyed a little too much) and reggaeton/tron. i always forget what it's called. there were a lot of shoes on the road there, without any obvious purpose.
 
around two weeks ago, i had another hospital visit. for those keeping tally, that now makes it two this trip. the doctor couldn't figure out what was wrong with me, which is always the most reassuring thing to hear from a medical professional, but dehydration/food poisoning/period pain were all suspected. for the few days afterwards i felt nauseated both when i did and didn't eat. it wasn't a good week. but i am feeling much better now, thanks for asking.
 
i've been disillusioning the boys by not shaving my legs often enough. i'll be sending the invoice for my services in lowering expectations to their next girlfriends. however, i have not participated in conversations about faecal viscosity. have also been driving them a little insane with my constant sex and the city references.
 
...i really want to see the movie.
 
there's a pretty sweet hotel in baracoa that you have to walk up a ridiculous hill to get to. they have a pool you have to pay to use if you're not a guest. rebels that we are, we have all swum in it sans payment. this is probably in the top 5 most rebellious things i've ever done. i won't elaborate on the rest due to the inclusion of my parents' emails in this group email.
 
a few nights ago cubans got us more drunk after we'd gotten ourselves drunk. a highlight was dancing to 'destination unknown' (that one's for you gemma). jason used the five words of spanish he knows to talk to locals and sam apparently had to resolve a lot of situations when he went to find him in the crowd. jase then fell asleep while taking a slash and was taken back to our guesthouse. we all got back soon afterwards and harassed him in his passed out state. i won't elaborate, we have video footage everyone can enjoy at a later date.
 
last night we arrived in santiago de cuba, where the carneval is currently taking place. don't be deceived however by this simple sentence, our arrival was far more dramatic than this. we were taken to the casa (guesthouse) of a friend of the people we stayed with in havana some weeks ago, who have been hooking us up with accommodation all over cuba. but, for the first time, it did not work out. their friend was rather useless and then ensued the unnecessarily hectic search for accommodation (santiago is full due to the aforementioned carneval). blah blah blah, we found some illegal casas near one another where they essentially just cleared out their own bedrooms for us to sleep in, but a guy who'd been telling us for about half an hour that his friend was coming by car to pick us up and take us to his parents' casa then decided he wanted money for his friend's petrol usage. questions about the existence of this friend aside, he wanted more money than would've been needed to cover it, and started getting aggressive when we refused to give it to him. he followed us around for a while til we walked towards a policeman, but then found us again by scooter once we'd walked away. the people we were staying with didn't want to call the police for us because they'd be arrested for having us there, and eventually lincoln gave the guy the money and he left. raaaather dramatic (enter parental freak-out).
 
i should emphasise at this point that cuba is a safe country.
 
my apologies to those whose emails i haven't replied to. internet access here sucks like a mofo. but i will be back in a week and you can all ask me any pressing questions you have. NB: uncreative questions such as 'how was it?' will be responded to with equally uncreative answers, ie. some variation of 'good'.
 
-dunja

I love crazy people.  In fact, I love crazy people so much that I devoted my college career to studying them.  What I don't love is accidentally getting into conversations with them while I'm trying to work.  I don't like that at all.  Nonetheless, this is expected.

Yesterday, I went to the local bookstore to finish a writing project.  Immediately, my crazy-magnet kicked in and I was sucked into an hour long conversation about conspiracy theories with a self-proclaimed government assassin.  It was a typical day really. 

I usually find the first half hour of these conversations quite amusing, but I've learned that once you allow the critical thirty minutes to elapse, the Crazy will stop being entertaining and will become annoying or insulting.  It's inevitable.  Happens everytime. 

I know what you're thinking, "How many crazy people could she have possibly encountered to make such a generalized statement?"  Well, the answer is "plenty." 

I used to have this little crazy man that lived somewhere near my parking garage when I went to college down in Austin.  Everyday, I would see him hanging around.  He would talk to me often.  His discourse was truly amazing.  No sentence that he spoke matched the preceeding statement.  He would tell me a story, and the first sentence would be about his girlfriend, the second would be an observation about a pencil, and the third would quantify how much he loved hotdogs.  I would respond with some nonsense about superheros or space aliens.  He would agree and conclude that the parking garage was going to squash all the cars.  Whatever conversation we had would not end until I shook his hand.  He could be mid-sentence and I could shake his hand and he'd walk away.  The handshake was always the conversation end point.  I loved this little man.

I met another lovable Crazy along the French Riviera.  Here I was, amongst the dozens, hanging out on the beach, when a crazy little Italian came and plopped down next to me.  He asked what kind of sandwich I was eating, and I gave him half of it.  We bonded.  He told me about the Russians and how the Russian satellites were to blame for both 9/11 and Katrina (the Russians heated up the Gulf with their satellites, then blasted the levees). 


However, the government assassin was less lovable.  He consistently made veiled insults about my IQ (which I told him was one billion) and my susceptibility to government propoganda, proclaiming at one point that I was one of those people who blindly followed my leaders to doom.  Yes, 30 minutes was my limit with this fella. 

In the end, I deeply missed Austin and the inevitable frequent encounters of people with mental health issues.  And, if you're in Prague... stay away from the train station at night.  I have NEVER seen so many angry Crazies in my life (regular Crazies are ok... angry Crazies are not).

My dear friend Dunja (The Aussie) has sent me an email update about her travels in Cuba.   It's mostly full of inside jokes, but its informative nonetheless.  She's commented numerous times on the fact that Cuba does NOT have hostels.  As per her update, you have to stay at private homes for budget travel.  It's not necessarily full of interesting things to do in Cuba, so much as statements of what it's like being there.  Enjoy!!



minions:
 
figured an update was appropriate, even though very few have asked.
 
sam and i have been in cuba for about 2 weeks now; spent a week going west to the province of pinar del rio and then came back to havana for a week to learn spanish. the week wrapped up with my being robbed on the front doorstep of our casa (you generally stay in private homes in this country if you're on a budget) and then learning about the bureacratic processes of cuba. they are lame.
 
cuba is a fantastic place to be, don't want to detract from that at all. people are generally helpful and friendly (though having said that, virtually everyone has a poor work ethic. it took us a good three minutes to buy this internet time...no one else was waiting) although the constant cries of 'where are you from?' get old quickly. everyone has a friend in sydney, apparently. we've decided to next time respond with 'china' and 'yugoslavia'. it will limit possibility of communication but will enhance their respect for us due to the mutuality in belonging to communist countries.
 
food is average to good. ie. vegetarian = average; non-vegetarian = average to good. there is little catering to vegetarians, but generally they know what it means and i have not been presented with a fish dish 'without meat' thus far.
 
highlights have included: drinking coffee with a farmer who grew both the coffee beans and the sugar on his property in the vinales valley, learning salsa at the casa de la musica from some (genuinely) friendly locals, getting drunk with a new zealand/swiss couple and imitating our spanish teacher's pronounciation of our names to no end (sam = SAAng), taking an illegal taxi from one end of pinar del rio to the other with cuban power ballads being blasted from the speakers, breaking down halfway there and not being able to get out of the car due to the illegality of our transport, the natural pools of the san juan river we stayed by (in treehouses...or 'rustic cabins on high enough stilts for there to be a table underneath'), my being able to ask where the post office is after 5 days (and $350) of spanish classes AND understand the response, and drinking rum on the malecon/esplanade/sea wall.
 
we're getting by as far as language goes - sam's better at understanding people, and i'm better at conjugating verbs and remembering vocab (sam gets 'how are you?' and 'what is her name?' confused at times). between us, we're not doing too badly.
 
tonight we leave havana and we're going to a town near varadero, without the intention of going to varadero. we're very ready to leave havana. we have convinced jason to join us in cuba in 2 weeks time so we can spend an extra 3 weeks in this wonderful place. any gifts should be sent via him. he can be reached on facebook as 'jason *****' (he's in my friends).
 
for those keeping tabs/placing bets, the answer is 'NO'. if you don't know what the question is, then never mind.
 
we are writing notes to fidel on our travels. they will likely be published within the year. autographs are probably easier to obtain now than they will be once we're famous.
 
keep in touch, otherwise we'll assume you don't like us.
 
dunja and sam