Food Update

No, we didn't eat the fish yet. (We christened him Mr. Delicious*, yes we did.) We're gonna eat him as soon as he gets here, someone is kindly filleting him for us. Until then: A little food update. Yesterday we had pork with rice and vegetables, fresh stuff on the side. Rating: Sooo goood!**
Today we had Tunafish-Casserole with green salad on the side. Rating: Two thumbs up!** I can't say if these ratings differ in relevance or weight from "amaaaazing", but I suspect they don't. Maybe I should cook something disgusting soon.

* Thanks for suggesting this awesome name.
** As usual rated by famous food authority & critic: My wife.

Gone Fishin'

Today we went fishing. The guy who drove the boat didn't wear a Champions 2008 Jacket for nothing. He must have won it at a speed boat race. Judging from his driving style he's going for this year's title, too. Great fun! (I replaced the wind noise with some music in the video.)

We were four people on the boat, fishing. Everybody had a brown fishing rod, except mine was blue. Everybody caught fishes, except me, I caught none. I fed some. My wife caught the first and biggest fish! A pickerel!
That was cool. Well, I can find happiness in the fact that at least my Karma stayed clean. Maybe the fish sensed my desire for pure Karma, so they only nibbled at my bait a bit. Which is good: Now I won't have to wait outside the Guru's place in Katmandu, should I ever have to defend Earth from aliens with noseglasses and hats. Hehe.
However, the landscape is very beautiful here.

Living in the Fifties

Pros

1. I would not only make breakfast every morning for my wife, I would also give her a cigarette with her morning coffee. ("Have a smoke, it's good for you.") Back in the fifties smoking cigarettes was still healthy.

2. I would write a song like "Johnny B. Goode" or "Hound Dog" and instantly become a famous rock star.

3. All pubic hair would be real: When watching The Reader I wouldn't spend half the time waiting to see Kate Winslet's fake pubic hair (I waited in vain. I didn't see it. It wasn't there. I must have missed it.)

Cons

1. I would live in the Fifties.

The Way Of The Dodo / The Reader

Two things:
One:
My MySpaceMusic account suffered the same fate as my Facebook account today. I've deleted it. It's just too much effort to keep it up to date, on top of that I've always found the whole myspace layout confusing. Maybe I'll find a way to include some music here on my blog at some point.
Two:
I've watched the movie The Reader. I have also read the book by Bernhard Schlink, and I liked it a lot, especially for the things it doesn't tell or goes over lightly. The film however has to mention them more explicitly, but it does a good job of it. It's an overall nicely depressing tale of morality and it works well as a movie.
Of course they speak English with german accents, which is a little weird, and I had a hard time forgetting it's Kate Winslet I'm watching (kind of like in Valkyrie, where Tom Cruise, not Stauffenberg, wants to blow up Hitler). The Reader movie, severely more depressing than the book it's based on, ends on a high note, though. That is nice and made me smile. And the moral of the story:
Whatever you do, never ever let your first love haunt you for the rest of your life.

Distracted

I'm pretty sure by now that "History" is not among the stuff being shipped here. It's in storage. I put only one CD with the shipment, and that is Daan's "Profools". The foundation of my musical taste! The birth of it! Before Daan my answer to the question "What music do you like?" was "Uhm...Everything?". But then it got better and I became a music-snob, one of those scarf-tossing sniffish members of a group, always looking down on those who fail to damn everyday pop and who can't value the real musical achievement. Everything? You're not human! To the camps with you! You will never understand and, most important: You will never be a part of the new world order, OUR new world order! Which of course at that time meant listening to the same song over and over again while wallowing in all kinds of heartache, even if there was none to wallow in.
That's not Daan, I have to say that. My first Daan CD only kicked open the gates. (Which Queen could only shake earlier. Queen couldn't give me what I needed. Everybody was into Queen.) Daan made way for numerous other bands. That's what "Profools" did for me. It gave me an answer. Finally I wasn't half a person only anymore!
The other bands came and went. Daan is still here (well, being shipped here).
But I got distracted, that's not what I wanted to write about right now. I wanted to mention that I went running again today, another 20 minutes 'round the better part of town. For some reason it was considerably harder this time. Well, well. Next run: Tuesday.
Food yesterday: Leftover pizza from friday. Food today: Chicken etc. Weather: Overcast, windy, at times rainy.
And now I'm gonna eat several slices of bread with Nutella.

Like

Yes yes, MJ is gone. So are other people. (But I am kind of happy that I put my double-album History in one of those boxes that are currently being shipped here. Or did I? I hope so.) Life goes on, and so goes on the usual posting about stuff that in the grand scheme of things is utterly unimportant.
Like we went running today. I still like to refer to myself as a regular runner, even though there's nothing regular about it lately. (Lately? It's been years.) So for starters we did a nice 20 minute run at a good pace, a little loop through what I would like to call "the better part of town". No stops or walking, quite surprisingly. Afterwards tunafish salad for evening meal.
Like I rewatched Mission Impossible 3 and didn't find it terrible anymore. Now I think it's an okay movie (not comparable to the awesome part 1 though).
Like I rewatched The Terminator, too.
Like I didn't know what to do with the leftover tomato-sauce, so I decided to make pizza today and used it that way. (My wife's reaction: Pizza? Yay!)
Like I'm thinking about getting a fishing rod and explore that kind of spare time activity.
Like I'm spending too much time online looking at ridiculously expensive computer systems that I really really would like to own right now.
Like I'm looking forward to traveling to Germany later this year, thinking: November. I hope that works out.
And so on.

Michael Jackson is Dead

That makes me sad.

Entertainment Today

There's a whole stack of trash-magazines in the cupboard, curtesy of whoever has lived in this appartment before. I glanced at the front page of a Cosmopolitan. The majority of headlines have something to do with sex: guys on sex, the sexiest games to play, confessions of a driver, how to put a bitch in her place, tricks that make him melt etc. Interesting. Oh right, I overlooked: It's The Hot Issue. (August 2004.) I totally want to read it.
Seriously.
By the way, Jon & Kate are getting a divorce. So the next season will be: Kate plus 8. The hard life of a single-mom with fuckloads of cash and 8 kids who are cared for by numerous nannies. Also Jon will get his own show: Jon minus 8. The hard life of poor daddy with fuckloads of cash who by running from media attention accidentally left his family behind.
Seriously.
The other day I watched Knowing with Nicolas Cage. Everybody seems to dislike movies with him lately, but I quite enjoyed Ghostrider and Bangkok Dangerous, even though I can see they aren't really good movies. Must be because I like Cage. Knowing however as a movie is more satisfying and at times scary. It reminded me of certain M. Night Shyamalan movies mixed with Session 9 or even Event Horizon.
And since I'm bragging about entertainment in this post, I'd like to inform you that I'm gonna watch the latest installment of the Fast & Furious series.
Seriously.

PS: My wife likes to watch what I like to call fat-shows, or more pc: Obesity TV. Even though I hate that kind of stuff, I found myself following an obesity-blog lately. I repeat: I am actively reading a fat-blog and I am enjoying it. The blog is at http://kaiserschallenge.blogspot.com. The guy writes it himself and compared to TV it seems... more real. I wanna see how he does.
So I ask myself: Is my wife's preference rubbing off on me, or am I just desperately searching for a blog that is actually interesting?
Well, whatever. Go, Kaiser, go!

Hauling Home

I was looking at potatoes. Different size bags of them: 5, 10, 15, 20 pounds. I said to myself: "You should buy the 5 pound bag, maybe the 10, but no heavier than that. Remember you have to carry it all the way home." It's a 10 to 15 minute walk. I looked at all the other stuff already in the cart: 2,5 kg of flour, lot's of fruit, canned vegetables, bread, 2 big packs of meat (you save 30 cent per kg if you go big), yoghurt and other stuff. "I have to let them give me plastic bags this time," I thought, "my two reusable bags won't carry all this." And my hand was going for the 10 pound bag of potatoes. It said 9,99 on it. An okay deal. "This I can carry home", I thought. My hand was almost there, when my eyes saw the sign right next to it: 11,99. For the 20 pound bag. 2 bucks more for twice as much? Do bears use ass-wipes? I took the 20.
I ended up in front of the store with two full reusable bags, two full plastic bags and my potatoes in my cart. A guy said to me: "I saw you walking earlier. You wanna carry this all the way?"
I grinned broadly: "Sure! I bought it, I'll carry it."
And so I walked. The 4 bags on the left side, the potatoes under my right arm. Left and right had approximately the same weight. After a while I switched sides. I walked. Piece of cake for a guy who has been in the army once. Marching 20k with a 30 kg backpack and 5 kg gun. No problem. Oh right, I was sick the day they did that. Strike that.
I switched sides again. Have I mentioned that it had been raining on and off all day? Like sunshine. Downpour. Sunshine. Downpour. Did I say that to the store I had walked in sunshine?
From the store: Downpour. There's me with my potatoes and my bags. Halfway home. Pants soaked through in an instant. Luckily I was wearing my new awesome rain jacket, so I didn't get wet. At least not belt-upwards. Nothing I could do but walk on, so I held on a little tighter to my potatoes under my arm and I did that. I walked on. Through the mud.
The stuff was getting heavy. And heavier. I saw my destination. Not far now! Then I realized that the potatoes were strangely un-heavy. I turned around and saw: These fuckers had silently made their way out the upper opening of the bag! I had left a trail of potatoes behind! Arrghhh!
I picked them all up. The rain stopped just when I reached home.
Conclusion: Never go for the 20 pound bag if you're on foot.
But later on I made cookies. Well, I wanted to. But I had to go to the store again first. I had forgotten the butter.

I made the cookies. According to my wife, they're amaaazing. Apparently all I cook is amaaazing. 3 out of 3. I must be a great chef.(I also made pasta today, the sauce was amaaaazing, too. That's 4 out of 4.)

By the way, my wife got herself some moose-shoes today. They have red birds on them who harvest blueberries. Isn't that something. Next time I'll hire them to fly home my groceries.

Curse you, shipping company!

My wife is working late.
It's raining.
It's gonna be another two weeks at least until our stuff gets here. I wrote two or three songs today, I have itchy record-button fingers. But my mic and mixer are not here yet! Curse you, shipping company, you're killing off my creativity! You're also slowing my wife down, she needs her books. Curse you, shipping company!

Chicken

Well, today I made chicken (boneless thighs) with mashed potatoes (a little bit of yam in there), green beans and carrots and some salad (oil/balsamic vinegar dressing). According to my wife it tasted amaaaaaazing. I can't disagree.

Pizza

This is yesterday's pizza. One of them, the other is gone already. I've made them from scratch and they taste amaaaaaazing (or so says my wife, but I agree). This particular pizza doesn't look it's best for two reasons: 1. It's been in the fridge for 24 hours. 2. I took the picture with my phone.
Toppings: Mushrooms, green peppers, salami. Onion and garlic in the sauce.
However, the pizza you're looking at doesn't exist. We ate it. It's gone.

PS: That's right. I'm doing it. I'm posting about what I cook. Once you start down that road...

Living with a Nurse

Living among nurses can be weird. Here's an extract of a conversation my wife had with another nurse today after work in our living room.

Other nurse: How was it today?
Wife: We had a stabbing.
Other nurse: Excellent. It's your first weekend and you get a stabbing. I had to wait 4 weeks for it.

(followed by endless medic-babble)

I guess I've got to get used to that.

I also play guitar a lot

I can't help but noticing an affinity to include pictures in my blog posts of late. Also I can see a trend towards (if even) only mildly interesting topics, i.e. man-bags. Aside from that new doubt has arisen in me, or should I say a certain fear about anonymity on the internet. Apparently about 30% of my generation share worry about giving away to much about themselves. I kind of want to take my picture off my blog.
On the other hand, however, I would like to have more readers and more comments. Feedback, so to speak. I would like to see lots of followers. But since I'm writing about whatever comes to my mind, there is no real central theme. There's hardly any personal information. I avoid disclosing my location. Why the fuck would anybody be interested in what I have to say?
Apropos, its not like I actually have to. I just write blog because I don't have anything else to do right now.
(Attention, personal information ahead:) As of right now I don't have a job. I'm a stay-at-home husband without a car. I cook everyday for my wife. I keep the apartment clean. I go grocery shopping. And I am in a godforsaken small but spread-out town in the middle of nowhere. Two stores, two gas stations, three restaurants, that's it. There's nothing here. I'm very happy to have a high speed internet connection.
Be that as it may, it is really nice to go for a walk early saturday mornings when everything is quiet and fresh. I did that today. The lakes are gorgeous.
They really are.

Man-Bag

Last week when I was on my way to see Pelham 123 I overheard people on the street talking about me. They said: "Look at that guy with his man-bag!", followed by some snickering. I didn't respond to it. (I was late. Well, not really. I just couldn't think of anything to say to them. So I decided to ignore it.)
I find my belt-bag (which some years ago has been given to me as a gift) very practical. It holds all the essential stuff like my wallet, my cellphone and my keys. Also it is even big enough for a book. People use similar bags where I come from all the time. In this country however, people for one thing seem to be used only to the dorky-looking kind of belt-beg/fanny-pack with zippers etc. For another thing they seemingly can't get along with the fact that male persons like to use bags, too. (So they refer to my bag as man-purse or murse.)
Men don't necessary want to stuff all their belongings into their pockets. (Maybe they do here. But that may have something to do with the fact, that 99% of all males in this country wear pants that are either baggy or don't fit right.) I find putting a wallet in the back pocket, cell phone in the front pocket, keys in the other front pocket a highly uncomfortable thing to do. That's why I use my belt-bag. So fuck you, ignorant people!

Adult Entertainment: Six Annoying Things

1. Getting it on in inhospitable, barren and uncomfortable surroundings like i.e. hot desert sun, icy mountain slope or snow, under water, on a boat in heavy wind or any other place where people usually don't feel like fucking their brains out.
2. Performers who fail to hide their disinclination/listlessness/inappetency, in short: Performers who don't have fun or can't fake it.
3. First person perspective.
4. Attempts for plot or storyline.
5. Gagging while practising deep throat.
6. Fucking the armpit.

The Farmer's Walk

So I am new in town. Today I had the chance to see yet another part of it, and on that occasion I learned about an exercise called the Farmer's Walk.

It has nothing to do with farmers and it has everything to do with walking. Like walking along dusty roads like these.

Here's how it works: You take two heavy things of identical weight.(Like, for example, water buckets. Or suitcases. Or just plain weights.) Then you carry them a certain distance and you take the time. That's it. I met a guy who did two 80 pounders in 26 seconds. (That sounds a little... uhm...nevermind.)
I started out with 75ers, it took me 42 seconds over the same distance.
What an experience.

Flying in a Plane

Flying in small planes is different. (They also call this kind the cigar of death. Or something like that.)

1. The board showing the flight times is not to be trusted. It says "departed" for your flight all the time.
2. Before entering the plane, at the stairs, they give your earplugs. You wonder why.
3. You cannot walk upright in the plane. You screw yourself into your seat.
4. There's only sixteen seats.
5. The safety-speech is mumbled by the pilot and goes as follows: "Welcometothisflight. Fastenyourseatbelt. Theexitsareherehereandhere. Seeyouwhenwegetthere."
6. The interior reminds you of your grandfather's GDR's Quik Junior Recreational Trailer. Very reassuring. You try to remember: Your grandpa's RT was made to last until eternity. You cling to that thought. It makes you feel better.
7. The engines start. Now you know why the earplugs. It's loud! Correction: It's not just loud. It's FUCKING LOUD!
8. The little handle right above you reminds of the handle in your mothers car. The one you grab when frightened. This one is labelled: Emergency Exit. Your hands are twitching.
9. Whoever invented the phrase "smooth flight", he didn't do it on this one.
10. All of a sudden you get used to it. You start reading your book.
11. Very bad idea. You focus with all your power on the landscape down below while desperately clutching the barf-bag.
12. Clouds everywhere. You can't see a thing. You hold on to the bag.
13. The landscape comes back into view. Phew, that was close.
14. The plane starts circling down. Suddenly you land. You hop out, thankful for the experience.

So, people, when you get the chance: Fly in small planes!

The Taking of Pelham 123

The movie is rated R, which violence-wise makes sense. Thanks Tony, for the completely unneccessary shooting scene and all the blood and gore. However, the cinema I saw it at had a 14-rating displayed. I wondered why, but now, after having seen the movie, I can understand:
From the age 14 up the viewer will not be able to suspend his disbelief. Everyone over 14 will find this movie utterly rediculous.
Is it Denzel? No, apart from not declining this one, he did alright.
Is it John? No, I liked him. Nice routine bad guy, Vic Deakins with a moustache.
Is it Brian? I loved Payback, but this one... Seriously, Brian. 20 hostages make the price of gold go up 800 percent? Our bad guy talks about himself so much the good guys can easily identify him? How predictable can you get?
Is it Tony? He didn't ruin Last Boy Scout and True Romance, but both of them had good scripts. Also both of them were more than 15 years ago. Tony's over-the-edge editing slow-down-shutter-whatever-style was annoying in Domino, and didn't do much good in this one either.
Long story short: Nice flick if you're 14 or under, otherwise: Utterly boring, don't bother.

Television Morality

Yesterday I watched True Lies on a US station, some three letter name like AMT or something, can't remember. It was 5 in the afternoon, so certain things were cut from the movie. Remember Harry's partner trying to cheer Harry up when he thinks his wife is cheating on him?
On TV yesterday he said: "Relax. Helen still loves you. You'll get used to it after a while."
In the original film he says: "Relax. Helen still loves you. She just wants this guy to bang her. It's nothing serious. You'll get used to it after a while."
Ok. They cut the banging-part. I can understand that. What I have a hard time understanding, and that's my point, is this: In the next commercial break the first commercial shown was for "Male Enhancement Medication". The commercial involved Santa Claus and "the gift that keeps on giving". Also several middle-aged very happy women in a party atmosphere.
See what I mean? We can't say "banging", but we can advertize large-cock-pills?
By the way, right after the big-dick-commercial they broadcasted a sleeping-pill commercial of the stupidest kind, "three active ingredients", "three pills in one". It took more time to list the possible adverse effects than to describe the product, it almost seemed like they were advertizing the undesired side effects. Ask your doctor!
And even more stupid after that: anti-depression-medication. "If you're still depressed after taking your usual anti-depression-pills, consider..." Again telling the list of side effects took more time than telling us about the product. (Incidentally the medication names include x's and y's, for research has shown that names including those letters sell better.)
What do we learn from this? The cut version of True Lies is rated 15 in the US. So the children are not allowed to hear about banging, but they are deliberately encouraged to learn about obscure penis-pills and other questionable drugs. No wonder the drug dealer next door goes out of business. (I saw one complaining last night, guess where? Right. On TV.) The school kids must indeed raid their parents' drug supply. Why wouldn't they? It's as-seen-on-TV and it's free. Sorry, dealerman. Can't beat that. Now go enlarge your dick.

Alien VS Predator Racoon by Jury

I actually tried watching Requiem yesterday. For some unfathomable reason I had still hope that it might be at least a little bit better than the abominable predecessor. It is not. It is worse. I won't even bother going into details like the completely fucked up timeline compared to the rest of the franchises (which, as we all know, should have been over after Predator and Aliens (though Alien 3 was alright and 4 just as Predator 2 at least tolerable...). I will not mention the ugly CGI predators and aliens during the exposition (which they should have skipped altogether). And no, I will not speak about killing off a little BOY 10 minutes into the movie (Hello?).
Do not watch this movie. Do not watch this movie.

Play Monkey Island instead. They're re-releasing a Special Edition this summer, talkie, done-up graphics and all.

Apart from that, and to follow up on yesterday's function over form:
I cannot find the jeans I want.
I cannot find the jeans that fit.
But I need a new pair.
Question: Is it alright to buy one that is cheap but doesn't fit perfectly?
Question re-phrased: Shall I sacrifice style for function?
Question re-re-phrased: Can I afford to dress like they dress here? I am European, for God's sake! Don't I have to... fly the flag or something?

Maybe I should ask the peeping-tom-racoon that climbed on the front porch's roof and looked into my in-laws' bedroom window last night. I have them put it on the phone next time. It might hold the answers. Actually, it might not.
Television might. Praise Television! That's where we find our answers. "Style by Jury" seems to be a good source. Or "How to look good naked". Praise W! Praise Slice!
Seriously.*
No, really.**

*Barf.
**Mop up barf and sell as show concept to TV.
He who is amazed by the unbelievable amount of crap broadcasted daily takes a wooden chair and smashes the tube.

Function over... & Other Things

1. Function over form.
So we need gear.
Yesterday I got a brand new rain jacket. Gore Tex and all. Black, breathable and everything. Good deal, too. Also it looks quite good.
Today I bought a pair of durable hiking shoes. Gore Tex and all. Pale brown, breathable and everything. Good deal, too. But: They kind of look like sneakers. I thought I was out of the age of wearing sneakers all the time (grade nine to eleven?). Ah well, they'll keep my feet dry in almost all weather conditions. They are also comfortable. And very practical. Repeat to yourself: eff-Oh-eff! Function over form!

2. Function over foam.
Yes, I need new shaving equipment. All this keeping the face smooth eats into my supplies like crazy.

3. Function over eff-off!
Went to the post office. Got there at 5:31. It closes at 5:30. Have to go again tomorrow.

4. Function itself.
The WiFi is quick again! Yay! Thanks, hotel! (Leave unsaid: Finally, after 2 and a half days!)

Farewell.

Undigested Red Meat

It is dark today. The clouds seem heavy and low, but they are quite pale and way up there. Also it is raining, and the city seems cold and icy, while in fact it is actually pretty warm and friendly out there. At least weatherwise. Soon I'm going to cook potatoes and chicken. Yes, it's chicken day today. Fine nice boneless chicken thighs, mashed potatoes and beans and carrots.
Living in a hotel has it's good and bad sides: If something's wrong, you always have someone to blame it on:
- Wireless slow? Hotel's fault.
- Dirt accumulates in room? Blame it on housekeeping.
- Housekeeping always shows up when you're naked etc, so you send them away and nothing gets done? Incompetent fools!

Must start cooking now. Why chicken? We all remember Rosewood in Beverly Hills Cop I, and how he tells Taggert about all the undigested red meat in the average American. Do you want to be that American? I surely don't. The way out: Chicken. There you go.

Drag me to Hell

This is a very nice little movie in the history of Evil Dead. Completely hilarious and at the same time scary. So forget about Angels & Demons and all the other crap playing and see Sam Raimi bring the vomiting witch back to the big screen. It's worth it.
(By the way: I couldn't believe the ticket prices here: 11 bucks for 2? Let's go in twice! Of course we then spent all the saved cash on popcorn and stuff.)

Bye Bye Beard. It's been nice.

I might add: This was bound to happen. The Mach 3 Turbo was only the last Sign. Earlier Omens have foreshadowed this. Altough: My electric razor died on me today, too. That would be a Counter-Sign. So maybe this wasn't bound to happen. Just random. I kind of remind myself of Bruce Willis in the Surrogates Trailer. That's cool.
So: Farewell, facial hair.

Terminator Monster Ballad

T4 sucked, but this is just great:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_fM_TBn_Do

Follow up on Frozen Pizza

I ate the Cheeseburger-Pizza. Let's put it this way:
Eating it was a task appointed to me, and if I hadn't found a way, no one would have.
The pizza indeed tasted different. Like crap. It was the worst pizza ever. I don't even wanna know what exactly I've just eaten. Weird orange cheese? Strange little meat-pellets that strongly reminded me of mouse droppings?
It was the most artificial flavour in this world.
What have I learned from this:
Never ever, even if Hell freezes over, buy a cheeseburger-flavoured pizza.

Frozen Pizza & Other Bargains

Frozen Pizza:
Two or three days ago I found frozen pizzas (485 g) for 2.99 each plus tax. Oh baby, I thought, frozen pizzas! This week's food-hunting is done! There was even a woman with a little grill sitting next to the frozen pizzas, offering pieces to costumers. I grabbed 5 pizzas, one Veggie, one Salami, one Hawaii, one Cheeseburger, one Deluxe. They come wrapped in plastic, with some circle-shaped cardboard below for stability. Here's what happened then:
1. The checkout guy charged me 3.99 per pizza. Fucker. Humble as I am I went back to the Lady to confirm 2.99. Then I confronted the checkout guy. He instantly turned mute and it took him a felt eternity to scribble here and there and type cryptic numbers into his machine (the line of costumers waiting for service grew longer and longer). Meanwhile I tried a bottle of orange vitamin-enriched water I had also bought, for reasons that are now hardly reconstructable. I almost barfed. The costumers exchanged glances. I felt uncomfortable and strangely out of place. Then the guy turned around. Without a word he handed my 5 bucks. I quickly left the store.
2. Back home I was hungry, so I put the Deluxe into the oven and then busied myself with other things. Of course time flew by and I burned the pizza, but I bravely ate the dark brown frisbee. The flavour was alright.
3. The next day I hate the Veggie, which tasted exactly the same. Later I also ate the one with salami, which tasted exactly the same.
4. Today I ate the Hawaii. I chose it because reading Cheeseburger on the other one made me feel a little, uhm, suspicious. It was not the time for adventure or experiment. The Hawaii by the way tasted exactly like the other ones.
5. Tomorrow or later today I will eat the Cheeseburger. I now feel more confident about it, because I can safely conclude that the probability of acceptable flavour is quite high. I expect it to taste just like the other ones.

First Conclusions from all this:
1. Always check your receipts.
2. Make your own food from scratch. Reasons: a) It tastes better. b) You'll live longer.

Other Bargains:
None, really. I got myself a new razor. Mach 3 Turbo*. Paid 12 bucks for it. Could have picked the Sensor Excel, but the mid-nineties design and only two blades kind of dissuaded me. Could have picked the Mach 3, but why go without the Turbo if it's only 1 buck more?
Dispite the kind of anachronistic late-nineties-design I feel like I can drive this thing. Or fly to the moon with it. Also back in the day my first razor was a Mach 3. I'm older now, I do the Turbo now. Man, life is great.

*extra blades included: 2

A thing that annoys me about google

1. My computer was bought in a foreign country. For some reason Google Search prefers non-english result pages from that country even if I explicitly choose the country where I am now as a region and English as the preferred language.

2. Also it prefers US websites over others, even if I explicitly do not choose the US as a region.

Result: Frustration.

And why the fuck does Gmail remember me and Blogger does not? It's the same fucking account!

I am annoyed and angry.
I have to calm down.
Everything will be alright.
Relax, man. relax.

Follow up on yesterday's observations

1. Went to Hooters, had a beer and a Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich with potato salad. The waitresses were all younger than me and were wearing orange hot pants and white or black shirts. Various TV-screens were showing three tv programs: sports, pimp my ride and more sports. Background music: Bryan Adams, Guns n'Roses and other tunes of the same caliber. The walls were wooden and covered with pictures of actual and former waitresses in orange hot pants and white or black shirts. Their asses are quite visible through the hot pants, their lower fronts however are cleverly hidden by some kind of belt bag containing waitress equipment. Breast sizes varied a lot. The food was surprisingly good, especially the potato salad. Overall I felt weirdly uncomfortable, so I finished eating and I left.
(Almost entered the Toys'R'Us right next door. Imagined family-fathers: "Go on into the toy store, son. Daddy is just gonna get his weekly dose of cleavage at the Hooters." - By the way: What I saw there today didn't make me hoot. Maybe I chose the wrong table. Damn.)
Is one supposed to stare at the waitresses? Will they react angry if one drools on them? Are they used to that? How does the concept of much female flesh showing goes together with eating lunch? Why do men bring women and eat with them? Or is it one of those you-get-used-to-it-things, no big deal, and after a while it becomes completely normal to stare at asses while munching burgers... that's probably it. But it doesn't quite come together for me.
Conclusion:
For food go to restaurant that has tableclothes and no tv. Bring partner.
For ass and other flesh go to live-performance club in Amsterdam. Good beer there, too. Bring partner, too.

2. HD-Wraparounds. They look so good on TV. Found them today in a store. Fuck HD, it's cheap plastic that get's easily scratched. Easily wearable on top of prescription-glasses? Fuck that, too:
a) you see the prescription glasses under them which makes you look like a dork
b) the HD's are freaking huge which makes you look like a dork
c) they come in pedophile-light-brown which makes you look like a pedophile
d) they come in yellow which also doesn't help
Conclusion: They suck.
Attention pedophiles: Maybe now that GM shuts down they'll give you a pair of HD's for free if you buy a van. Didn't you pray to your god for that?

3. Maybe the Conservative Party fears Ignatieff might bring word to this country that:
a) coalitions work just fine (they do it in europe all the time) and
b) that a proportional election system might actually really represent what the public votes for. Just an afterthought.

4. I totally didn't buy frozen pizza today although I had the chance. Fuck me! Now I want one and can't get one.

5. Being alone in a hotel room sucks. Repeat 'til succesful spin-in-head accomplished.

6. Today some poor homeless guy without teeth asked me for 40 cents. He did that right in front of the hotel. Nothing wrong with that so far, I gave him some change. But, and because I just wrote number 5 I remember it, he did it right the very moment when I said byebye and interupted us. After handing over some coins the doors of the van were already closed and the coda of my goodbye-ing (which was supposed to be a symphony in itself) was reduced to some window-knocking-bye-bye-waving insufficient crap. Result: Goto 5 and intensify emotion.
Hope he bought himself something nice.

7. Thanks for commenting. Will comment back, sometime in the future.