That must be Nigel with the Brie

Health Legder is dead. While I won't go so far as to say this is a personal tragedy, there is a permanent place in my heart for 10 Things I Hate About You. Kathleen and I had a homage evening on Tuesday. I can tentatively say that is my favorite bad teen flick of all time.

On a related front, I was recently told that I look like Julia Styles. Now, she is about the size of my leg, has no tits, bad skin and bad teeth. And can't really act. But I'll take that comparison over "the fat chick from Can't Hardly Wait" any day.

Hmmmmm....

The evidence of the Dark Lord's return is incontrovertible

Happy (belated) New Year everybody! Back in Amsterdam and it's great to be home. It's also great to think of this place as home. I have pictures on the wall! And I have mice. I thought it was just one, who was handily taken care of by Govern when she was out here (yes, I am a girl), but I saw one scurry along the baseboard last night RIGHT AFTER my cleaning lady had been there (yes, I have a cleaning lady...or cleaning girl, she's like 27 and apparently moonlights as an ecstasy dealer. or is an ecstasy dealer that moonlights as a cleaning lady, not sure which one it is...). Anyway, considering a cat.

Things are picking up socially over here -- offset by the fact that I don't have a ton of work. Now that the Pats are playing the Giants, we might have a 1am Superbowl party to watch the game. Or we might DVR it and reenact Superbowl Sunday the following weekend. I mean, we really just want to order pizza and eat chips and salsa and be huge American gringos.

It does feel like a bunch of people I know are leaving my quaint city (the Dutch HATE it when you call it quaint, but it IS). Actually, only 2 folks are leaving (a colleague is moving to India and a workout buddy is going to Chicago) and my adorable intern has moved on, but since that's like 50% of my friends, I am again online friend dating. Actually, it's like listserve dating -- it's kinda neat. There are all these "young expats" who propose meeting up for stuff, usually having to do with alcohol consumption. Unfortunately, the last time they were all dorks. Or I was hammered. The world will never know.

Also, I could potentially have a trans-Atlantic sugar daddy in the works. But he's old. Like son abouttostartcollegerecruitingprocess old. Doesn't mean he ain't sexy, but well, he's definitely before the Star Wars generation and I'm definitely after.

I've finally got all the members of the immediate fam on board to visit this spring. Anyone else out there want to visit? Might want to hurry that up -- I might not be here for the intended 2+ years. Get your moochin' while it's hot.

I...am...death

I'm hungover.

Now that's on the table, a little stream of consciousness to brighten everyone's Friday. I leave tomorrow for the Tour de Force of los estados unidos. While I am excited to see everyone I am not excited to a) pack and b) get on plane. Thankfully, the remainder of a bottle of Kettle One and a little John Sinclair will help with a) and the over the counter French magic pills should handle b).

[ugh, not enough water or breakfast sandwiches in the world right now]

Belatedly, happy Thanksgiving to everyone. My Turkey Day was fantastic, mostly b/c it didn't involve Turkey at all, but rather copious amount of abuse to my body (which was awesome). Ex-roommate from the smallbutcentrallylocated apartment on Lex came out to the Dam. We rolled in to L&G's in Paris and proceeded to have all sort of fun eating cheese, making pies, drinking champagne, mashing potatoes, dropping pies, ingesting hallucinogens, clubbing under a bridge, watching Seinfeld, puking hallucinogens, talking in my sleep, eating leftovers, eating leftover, eating leftovers and killing bottles of vodka at a rate that would make any post-college semi-alcoholic proud. Though the train ride back to Amsterdam resembled a ride in a handbasket to hell, definitely one of the best Thanksgiving's ever. (others that rank up there include the Madrid Queso y Pan party and the year that my Grandfather decided he wanted lobster instead of Turkey).

See you all soon -- I've got U.S. digits now, so drop me a line if you don't have them. Happy holidays to you and yours. Pick up this line in January (oh yeah! one more update...had "the talk" with my boss lady. definitely signing on for another year! might get a cat! come visit! i fucking hate exclamation points!)

When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard really

Quick addition -- I just found out that one of my coworkers was Zwarte Pete this past week. This kid is tall, skinny, with bright blond hair and blue eyes...check out the dude on the right. Crazy!

Has anyone seen the show Californication with David Duchovny? If you haven't, do it. It's better than the X-Files (don't snicker, I liked that show) and they make lots of inappropriate references to pubic hair. This is my new Entourage.

Photos still have to wait because I have now misplaced the chord that plugs into the computer. I get bonus points for organisation. Instead, I will tell you the magically xenophobic story of Sinterklaas!

Sinterklaas is the "cousin" of Santa Claus and visits all the little Dutch girls and boys on December 5 instead of on December 25 [note: Sinterklaas is actually the "father" of Santa -- Santa stories in England, Germany and Scandanavia are thought to have originated from the Sinterklaas legend]. And how does Sinterklaas deliver all the presents to all the homes? Firstly, Sinterklaas does not live in the North Pole, he lives in Spain, so it's not quite so long of a trip (he takes a steam boat over). And, the pragmatic people of the Netherlands gave him "helpers" (until recently called slaves) which run around and deliver all the presents for him. All his helpers are all named Zwarte Pete (Black Pete) -- at first I imagined something like the Oompa Loompa from the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie where they all look the same, but I was way off.

All the Petes are in fact supposed to be black (hence the recent PC trading of the term "slave" for "helper"). To portray Pete in the parades, the Dutch paint their faces black. It is a little bit uh, alarming, to see all these supposedly forward-thinking, tolerant, blue-eyed Dutch running around in black face. [Aside: Zwarte Pete supposedly wasn't invented to demean black people. In "real" history, he is thought to originally have been an Ethiopian slave who was freed by Saint Nicholas and then stayed with the saint out of gratitude.]

But back to the story. Unlike our Santa, Sinterklaus wears a bishop's outfit with a red hat and cloak, but he does have white hair and a white beard. For the week or so leading up to December 5, children put their shoes close to the fireplace before they go to bed and also set out water and sometimes a carrot. During the night, Sinterklaas/Pete places gifts such as chocolate coins, poems (wtf? who wants a poem for Christmas?) and papernoten (super tasty mini spice cookies which can also come covered in dark, milk and white chocolate) in the shoes of the good children. If you are bad, a Pete will put you in his burlap carrying sack and take you back to Spain!

Maaaiwidge. Maaiwidge is what brings us togefer today.

A very belated congratulations to Caroline on getting engaged. I've been meaning to recollect the shenanigas of their visit. But I want to do that in photos and the plug is at work so another time...why do today what you can put off till tomorrow.


So, I visited Italy for the first time, but it was with work so I didn't really leave the hotel and Milan looks like Madrid anyway...well, feels like it. The hotel was, however, wicked cool. I don't normally go in for all the bells and whistles on these trendy hotel concepts (though it is nice when your hotel suite doesn't look like Grandma Wasp's guest room), but this place did some pretty cool things. One side of the shower was translucent orange plastic and you could move the shade behind it to the side....see into the bedroom. I feel like this description is cheesy, but I think it could be hot.


Speaking of hot, check out what Milan was all about: http://www.camparitales.com/


(I like how I have time to talk about a hotel, but no time to talk about partying w/ the Pearsons. I really have my priorities in order)

I'm not the type of person who will disrupt things just so I can shit comfortably

There's been a lot of talk about poop and fibre over the past couple of days, exacerbated by the fact that ethnic food in Amsterdam = really tasty and that I still have a broken toilet seat. And I, being a ridiculously mature individual, feel the need to share this toilet humor. Summary of last night's SOBER conversation:

Me: I think he's in there trying to fix it.
E (male): What do you mean it's broken?
C: The seat can move unexpectedly.
Me: Am I going to fall in?
C: No, it's just a small shift.
E: I don't want to fall off.
Me: You won't fall off.
E: Do you touch rim?
Me: If you are so concerned about it, then don't shit in my house, shit in Kathleen's house.
E: I've already done plenty of that.

I have to sleep with the Duke, and the jealousy will drive you mad

I was a little sad when I came back from New York in August at the prospect of missing the fall shenanigans that inevitably occur on the East Coast. Last year included adventures such as discovering the best version of charades EVER, "blowing lines" at Whitey's house and skipping around Soho in men's underwear. Can Amsterdam hold a candle to this? (rumor has it they don't really do Halloween here, but I have an in with the goth crowd, so it's all good)

Perhaps. Though I'm not sleeping with any rich sugar daddies (yet...though I have had a few meals picked up which is always nice...baby steps), you should be envious of my next month which includes the best-version -of-charades-ever masters coming for an extended visit (added bonus: Snatch is joining us from Pareeeee), a Thanksgiving out of Alice and Wonderland, plus a work-sponsored trip to Milan where I get to hobnob with people who's waists are the size of my leg (or smaller). Thankfully for my body image, after that is a short trip to D.C., a city in which I actually feel relatively stylish due to the high number of people whose attire matches their politics (read: ridiculously conservative).

Tonight we kickoff with Strongbow and a birthday celebration for my buddy Kathleen who was actually friends with Alex P's brother first and was a roommate of a few rower friends from back in the day. Globalisation at work baby.