Kiss the Flickering Images

For people who don´t like words. Pretty much every picture here has a good story behind it, maybe if anyone is interested you can comment on the ones you want to know about and I´ll write something. Too lazy to type captions.

In Return the Pilgrims Killed Em´

Spain seems to still be bitter over the fact that they sent Columbus off on that mission so many years ago, and ultimately fucked up in creating a country so economically superior to them.

This may or may not be why they don't celebrate Thanksgiving.

It didn't feel right to just let the momentous occasion of Thanksgiving slip past us, we had to celebrate somehow. We couldn't be rest easy knowing that our respective families back home would be arming themselves with fork and knife, fully prepared for the feasts in front of them, then contentedly waddling away from the table after the last turkey slice had been snatched from the platter to enjoy the rest of their extended weekend. For us the normal nightly rations of spaghetti and salt wouldn't do. We needed something more.

So we took a box of potato puree that had been sitting in the cupboard since we got here, hesitantly stumbled through the directions before finally deciding that we couldn't really screw it up, and then sat down at the table for the first time in a while to enjoy our "Thanksgiving" dinner. It looked like this.

In order to make it a true "feast" Joel pulled some spaghetti out of the fridge that had frozen into a solid block. We weren't sure how much of our normal readership would stay up on the blog this week as the most of you are probably spending time with people who have the same last name as you that you care about more than us, but I decided to throw this up anyway. If you don't really know why they don't celebrate Thanksgiving, you're an idiot.

30 Thousand Kings

This is hot hot shit!!! filmed by me, edited by joel. this video is basically just a bunch of stuff that I filmed in and around the apartment... and in a sewer pipe. when put to music it makes our lives look like an awesome dance party, which it kind of is. we hope you all enjoy it immensly.

ps. the needle you see at the end of our film is an actual heroin needle we found used next to a matress in a bum nest.

Also, here is a link to our government video: http://blip.tv/file/396801/

Diggin' in the Crates

There are quite a few used record shops around downtown Madrid, and there was one right down the street from our hostel that had been tempting me every time I walked past it.


It turned out to be a lot like MSMG, minus the video games and piles of useless shit. They had a ton of records and CDs, most of which no one would probably ever buy. I couldn't risk the chance letting a Fondle Em' pressing of Operation Doomsday sitting on the shelf, so I forced myself to flip through the "Rapp" section.


I found one gem-the soundtrack to the Street Fighter movie.


Most of the album is filled with songs by a bunch of early nineties emcees that you have never heard of, but there are a few tracks that made the three euros absolutely worth it. This includes some good exclusive shit from Nas, Ras Kass, Ahmad, Saafir, and Pharcyde. Right now I am listening the the hilarious Craig Mack cut in which he directly references every character in the game. I am very proud of my find.


Bonus: The copy I have is a promotional one, littered with savory "not for sale" warnings. Campcom special offer indeed.


Here in Alcala I repeated this process when I stumbled upon a shop that offered a challenge even more formidable than the last. The CDs weren't separated into genres so I had to sit there and rapidly thumb through literally every CD that they had. Glenn insisted that I was wasting my time, and I partially agreed given the incredibly dismal selection.

Despite my low spirits, I was determined to walk out of there with something in my hands. What I eventually stumbled upon was far better than I ever expected to find. I have no idea how it found it's way in there, but there sitting on the shelf was The Foreign Exchange, the album with Phonte from Little Brother (and several other Justus League affiliates) produced by Nicolay. It was the kind of find that would be exceptional even in an American record store, and how I managed to find it in some hole in the wall place in Alcala is beyond me.

Unfortunately though, CDs apparently don't release simultaneously in America and Spain so I am going to need someone to send me a copy of American Gangster ASAP.

Numb from Gut Fuel

Our apartment sits on the outskirts of Madrid, much closer in proximity to the town of Alacala de Henares. Our nightly routine usually consists of wandering to downtown Alcala, purchasing an hour at the Internet cafe, then aimlessly perusing the streets like lost children, searching for people who speak English.

For everybody else, this nightly journey is usually embellished by the consumption of alcohol, which results in moments like this.

These two young men got distracted by the opportunity of arson, and thus a temporary schism formed in the group, as Brock, Glenn, and myself continued into town without hesitation. It was later than usual and the Internet cafe wasn't an option so we sat in the plaza as the brisk nightly quickly grew stale.

We soon decided to return home, but only a few minutes after our departure we were reunited with Joel and Adam, which seemed to inject some hope into what previously looked to be a desperate evening. Glenn sat on a bench talking to a statue of Sancho Panza (Cervantes was born in Alcala) and we kept our fingers crossed that some Americans would walk by.

They did.

The utterance of a frustrated "Goddammit!" from amidst a small group of girls was all it took and we instantly hurled proof of our native language in their general direction, hoping that they were as bored as us, or at least interested in talking. They were, and we lamented about only things Americans in Spain can-ham isn't that good, mullets are ridiculous, mopeds are annoying etc. The girls were students here in Alcala, and they were headed off to a club, we followed them, trying our damnedest to pull Joel and Adam away from their new friends who spoke a little English and knew a catchy song about communism.

The club was decent enough but for whatever reason I didn't really enjoy myself. When 4 AM rolled around I finally did what I had been wanting to do for the past couple of hours and walked home.



There were no stars in the sky, a frustrated Spaniard was enveloped in the hood of his broken down car, squealing horns blasting out of his speakers, hopefully warming his heart but surely doing nothing to combat the unforgiving morning. I turned down my street, ignoring the hookers' heckle from across the corner.

I was the first one home, so I sat up waiting as the rest trickled in. We evaluated the night, and soon slipped into reminiscing mode. The echo of the "old days" came back around again for some reason. I don't know what time we went to bed.


Of course all of this was done in celebration of Danny Roop's birthday which was on Friday. So everyone send him some money for his birthday so he can afford to buy me something nice for Christmas.


I am thinking about doing some more retroactive posting about France. Does anyone object to this practice or does our readership not find the sweet nectar of continuity as sacred as I do?

Halloween Costumes

The night before Halloween was somewhat stressful because we were supposed to come up with costumes for school. We're too broke to buy anything for a costume, we don't really have that much stuff with us, and we're lazy. This combo isn't the best when people are expecting you to have somewhat good costumes because you're American.

So we improvised.

There were a lot of shitty ideas thrown around. Especially by Glenn. "I'll be a student." Which would have consisted of him not wearing his lab coat... Other ideas were wino, giant banana, bum, hiker, Uncle Sam, etc. By far, the best terrible idea was Brendan's. He put a plastic bag over his gigantic dome piece and made the actions of being a fetus. This was funny as hell. However, when we took the picture we all shit our asses for about 15 minutes after seeing it because it seriously looks like Brendan has down syndrome.

Down syndrome is not funny.

But, Brendan having down syndrome was the funniest shit I have ever seen. The way his eyes are folded, the shape of his dome, the way he is holding his hands, and the expression on his face is seriously... Fucking ridiculous.

The rest of the pictures are what we actually were for Halloween. Adam was a zombie, I was a ninja, and Brendan was a beautiful butterfly. Brock and Glenn suck and didn't dress up.

Bush Jumping

This started in Biarritz, but there were a lot of pictures on that last post, so I figured I'd split it up and make a post about this.

The title explains it pretty well. We find some nicely groomed bushes with a lot of leaves that look very inviting, and we jump into them. The usual technique for jumping into bushes is running full speed at the bushes then jumping with a 180 degree turn on the x axis and a 90 degree turn on the y axis so that you land on your back on the soft mattress of spikes. However, there is also the usual front flip which results in your ass being penetrated by multiple shafts upon impact.

This is super fun, but it causes a lot of scratches, rips, and loss of personal property, which sucks. I lost mp3 player and I just ripped my new sweatshirt.

I know I'm a dumbass, but whatever.

Biarritz

So it's been a while since we were in Biarritz, but we didn't get the opportunity to post anything about it, so I am now. Biarritz was the shit basically. We sat on the beach all day, we slept on the beach at night, went swimming in the ocean, saw titties (old titties are gross), drank beer on the beach, what more could you ask for? (Besides the old tits part). Brock was supposed to make the post about the karaoke bar that we went to, but he didn't so I'm doing it for him. Brock wanted Glenn and me to sing some karaoke, so he bought both of us a beer then picked a song...

"Barbie Girl" by Aqua

Pretty much Glenn and I made jackasses of ourselves (more so than the people that were actually trying to sing karaoke well) We screwed up the song in multiple places, I rocked the shit out of the oooos and yeahs and ahhhs while Glenn sat there laughing trying at random times to make a ken voice and occasionally he tried to sing some of the words that appeared on the screen, but over all (and I feel like a jackass saying this in a post because I'm writing it) I rocked the shit out of Glenn, and I wouldn't have said anything, but everyone else agreed that Glenn sucks at karaoke.

But yeah, Biarritz was amazing. So here are some pictures that sum up our experience there fairly well.

Wood Floors in the New Apartment

As a further extension of my efforts in delivering a crushing antithesis to everything that the naysayers stand for I must report to our readership our current living arrangments.

We have an incredible apartment.