Hangover

I'm pretty damn hung over. We had a party last night, and I consumed an unknown amount of beer. Now it's 3:15 on saturday afternoon and i'm in bed with my window shade down, complaining on this blog. Matthieu passed out in the bathtub, but apparently he's okay to go to the pub right now. I, on the other hand, can't move. I'm seriously contemplating cooking an old can of baked beans. Damn you, hangover. Damn you.

NFL Draft

The Houston Texans have gone ahead and cemented their suckiness by passing on both Vince Young and Reggie Bush and taking some defensive back. Houston fans, of which I am now definitely not amongst, should become angry and riot or something. This is unprecedented stupidity on the part of an organization. It's like they were searching for the most potent way of alienating their fan base. Well done, retards. well done.

Cheers, mate

"Cheers" is a salute that is properly used when two beer glasses are brought together prior to consumption. I don't use the term anymore, as I have transitioned over to the czech 'nazdravi'. The British people at my office use cheers for a variety of words, for example and Irish guy just said "Cheers" to me as I held open the door to the elevator for him. People use "Cheers, mate" as both hello and goodbye, like the english redneck version of 'ciao'. I don't really have a point, except to say that they're not really speaking English any more in those rainy, soggy, royalty-infested islands. Long live Pax Americana.

Ahoj, neighbor

With great joy, i announce i have become an internet pirate. No, I don't surf these chaotic waters in search of gold and plunder. Instead I am like a seventeenth century peasant, without the basic human necessity of internet access in my home. The lack of such a service is due to the fact that myself and my frog roommate didn't have any money until January, and we don't feel like paying for it now. We are denizens of the internet cafe, or even better, the internet pub, where internet surfing is accompanied by gentle inebriation. What joy. But last night the frog started croaking about wifi signal. i had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, because his english is a failed attempt to eat a hot potato. But 'wifisignal' is the same in every language, so i immediately grabbed the imac and started roaming about the flat in search of signal. in my room it was but a suggestion of a memory of hours spent researching the political structure of turkmenistan. but in the kitchen a rich bounty of electronic goodness abounded, and i finally checked my email at the flat. and so i am here now, blogging with about the same signal that i had in that bathroom in amsterdam. but i am connected, and slightly inebriated as well. Yes, lent has passed, trees are blooming, and the beergardens are open. no one cares that it's 55 or 60 degrees and you have to wear a coat while drinking your beer. it's not snowing and things are turning green, so it's time to join friends and comrades in a round of beer. cheers.

In Praise of Boredom

I came across this gem of an article while embarking on my usual internet quest during a slow afternoon...

These are tough times for boredom. Television stalks us everywhere, from SUV back seats to elevators. We squander hours online, plunging through Internet wormholes. (Recently, I found myself at the website of the Argentine Air Force and suddenly wondered, like an awakening drunk, how did I get here? In slow moments at work, I don't lean back and contemplate the Big Picture; I check in on Gawker.) We burn time trading moronic instant messages and emails; one friend regularly sends me links to stories about misbehaving chimps. And, now, the proliferation of handheld diversions--the BlackBerry, the video iPod--is dealing a death blow to the idle moment. Especially in Washington, it has become permissible to check one's BlackBerry mid-conversation. And, just between us, I may once have glanced at mine at a urinal.

"Not Only In France"

My frog roommate forwarded an email to me with the above caption, in relation to an email going around the company stating that our Bangalore offices are closed. Why would they be closed? Riotiong, of course. And why are people rioting? Religious fundamentalism? Anti-government democracy movement? No, of course not.

An icon of south Indian cinema and star of more than 200 films, Rajkumar, died on Wednesday, sparking widespread violence as distraught fans torched buses and ripped hoardings in the country's hi-tech hub.

Um...

Actors in the southern Indian film industry are often revered with as much intensity as the gods they regularly portray on screen. Many people include icons of their favorite star in their household shrine, alongside portrayals of the more usual Hindu pantheon.

Okay, well this might be the best argument against polytheism that I've heard in a while. Kyle really liked this part:

Rajkumar, sometimes called the John Wayne of the regional Kannada-language film industry, was kidnapped in 2000 along with four members of his family in the neighboring state of Tamil Nadu...He spent 108 days in the jungle bordering the two states before police negotiated his release. Veerappan was shot dead in 2004.

These Indians..with their obsession with these crazy filmstars, can they ever join the ranks of the modern, civilized western world? Can they ever become like us?

TOM Cruise yesterday revealed his latest bizarre mission..to eat his new baby's placenta. Cruise vowed he would tuck in straight after girlfriend Katie Holmes gives birth, saying he thought it would be "very nutritious".

(Sigh)...

Easter

Happy Easter everyone! My holiday will be spent hanging around with the gf, cooking, and reading "The decline and fall". I had considered mass this morning, but decided that spending 2 hours listening to an Easter mass in Czech would probably be more of a liability for my faith. Sloth and relaxation will take prevalence, accompanied by some homemade goulash. I will also be leaving out some of the more amusing aspects of the czech holiday. As is custom in this country, the men go around and whip women with willow branches. The women then give a painted egg, or even better, a shot of vodka. In theory it sounds fantastic, but in practice it is actually just a bunch of drunk guys hitting girls with sticks. Generally ignored in the cities, I'm happy that Jana's town is too big to celebrate with the same ferocity that the isolated burgs of the czech countryside partake. And finally, I must elaborate upon my exile from beer. Well, perhaps elaboration is unnecessary. I haven't had beer since sometime in the 1880's, and my body is definitely feeling it. Reinvigorated, slim, lithe and powerful, this temple of the mind has not been defiled with the golden brew in so long that it is losing itself to the decadence of asceticism. But Bacchus had returned, and his multitudes will flow with vengeance. In other words, I'll have a beer with my goulash. Happy Easter!

Revelations and Apocrypha

I’ve decided that there are three phases in life: Childhood, Adolescence, and Adulthood. In childhood your parents tell you what to do. In adulthood you tell your children what to do. And in adolescence you don’t tell your parents what you do. --- Anyway I struck a blow against adolescence when I finally managed to go to the gym this morning. I woke up at 6:30 and accomplished a nourishing and invigorating bout of self-flagellation with a bar and two weights. This is a final, clean break with my old college lifestyle (wake up late, do something, then insert beer) which had persisted through my first job. Will this begin Nick's ascendence into adulthood? probably not...but at least it'll keep my beer belly in check.

This seems to be going around like an STD