I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?

"I think you can in Europe."

All excited for a minibreak in Budapest, I partied face on Friday, got up early to have someone rip all my hair out, slept for half the day instead of packing and then left my apartment like a responsible adult with plenty of time to make my 8:25 flight.

Except the flight was at 8:25am, not pm. And I had trekked to a small airport about 2 hours from Amsterdam. And I was still hungover.

Freaking out because I was meeting a friend there, I frantically try to find was to get to Budapest that evening (12 hour drive? hmmmmmm). Then, miracle upon miracles, my friend also missed her flight. So, headed back to Amsterdam, considering drinking a bunch of absinthe, but opted to turn in somewhat early and actually make a 9:30 A.M. flight out.

Irregardless (I had to drop that in there -- mostly because this Dutch guy I had a meeting with last week used it and I have to thank Ben Afleck for shaping business English around the world), the Governor and I finally met up in Budapest. Since we ended up there for the raging party nights of Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, I have to say that the supposed crazy nightlife was a bit of a let down (the coolest people we met were shotgun wedding honeymooners from Georgia).

That aside, the baths were awesome ("szaunas" and wave pools!), great architecture, fury chickens and lots of weird, fun sights like a fake labyrinth and popcorn cave. We also got cheap massages, though Doyle still gets props for the best neck rub ever. Back in the A'dam, we're gettin' psyched for a weekend of live sex shows and a fancy dress parties. Woo woo.

You're mother was a hampster and your father smelt of elderberries!

I just got reamed out by a French colleague for something that was not my fault. Goddamn Frogs. The worst thing is, that French accent we all make fun of? They actually sound like that. So imagine the chef in the Little Mermaid screaming at you about something supposedly important. Do I laugh or cry? Actually, people can make careers out of imitating the French. I knew a guy who was the greeter to the French area at Epcot in Orlando. Given, he was Canadian, so half-way there, but a fun job description nonetheless. I mean, no CFO of Eurodisney or anything, but "Get-ting to ahhh talk like zis all zee day long. It would be fun, no?"

Thankfully, Facebook's way of putting you in touch with freaks has brightened up my day:
"really my god how can a person be wonderful and beautiful.have you been in turkey.because l think l remember you but not sure l work in tourıst region every summer.or l had been in holland for 3 month l dont know maybe in my dream l saw you.the true thing you are so beautiful.l hope you let me know you.next june l will be living in arnhem.regards and kisses from mehnet"

I think I'm in love.

Your ego is writing checks your body can't cash

What the hell is it about getting old and partying? I still want to party, I still want to drink a lot of tequila, but I simply cannot function the morning after going out. And I always have to pee. I think I should get some Oops I Crapped My Pants. Ugh, I can still taste old beer on my breath. And someone broke my toilet seat. Awesome.

Despite my kvetching about not being able to handle my liquor/hangover, I had a lovely weekend in Amsterdam. Some lady friends and I polished off a bottle plus of wijn each before exiting to run game at the Pilsvogel (it means "Beer Bird"). We looked so hot that three guys left the bar and then came back 30 seconds later to hit on us. Jam!

We then finagled some free beers before I got an attitude problem and left for greener pastures (read: turkish pizza). I've found there is an assumption about Americans that pervades all foreign culture: We are rich, easy and stupid. Now, I have will concede that one of the above could be true, but I hate being treated like I don't know tuna from chicken.

Anyways, one of my friends tried to pull this guy with some weird Dutch name like Remco or Roy (dude, Dutch names are hilarious), who also happens to work at the same company she does. Post 4am texting, nothing materialized :( But at least now she's made an ass of herself after only 2 weeks on the job.

[coincidence: the following SMS just arrived from my friend -- "Holy shit, i am in this building five minutes and I see the guy from saturday nt. Thankfully he did not see me."]

I had a rough night and I hate the fuckin' Eagles, man!

Saw Modest Mouse at the Melweg last Wednesday (hmmm, 3Ms...reminds me of Mather Malt Liquor Mondays. I wonder if they sell OE in the Netherlands). Awesome concert -- packed, small venue. Lots of screaming, lots of beers.

But the Dutch are wack. Some woman scolded us during the concert for talking and cheering. What's that all about? Other things that the Dutch do that are weird: Let their dogs crap EVERYWHERE. It's worse than Paris (though the time I dragged a foot full of poo into Leigh's dry cleaner was pretty fantastic).

I digress. I had a video clip of the concert to post, but my computer hates me and then I got all nervous about infringement of some sort (not sure if pics were "allowed"). And I also had some sick photos of us rockin' out, but I have tried for the past 3 days to post them and am officially giving up. So it means that this post is useless and uninteresting because all my sweet visuals were rejected. Damn the man.

"Littering and littering and littering and littering and...

...smoking the reefer." Korr the connoisseur is in town. Jam!

In other news, it's throw-back week in De Pijp. A buddy from my hardcore "we don't sew beads on belts" camp was in town Monday to eat face at Sama Sebo (mmmm peanut sauce...drooling sounds). And another old camp friend is coming in this weekend. (Anyone remember the bright green Trojans Swimming t-shirt I wore every Friday night sophomore year? Was hers originally. Sadly, been lost to the Gods of Exes, but at least it made its way back to Canada)

Despite themonthofnoworkbecauseeuropeansdontfuckaroundwithvacation being over, from here to Christmas it's a straight party. It's a good train, you should get on it.