Poker

Played poker last night from 8 PM until 4 in the morning. At a nice-looking poker table, all soft in the middle, saying Texas Hold'em on it. A round of seven.
I had some beers. Smoked a lot of cigarettes. Laughed my ass off frequently. Won 150 bucks.
Very enjoyable evening.

Luckily I don't work today.

Poker is an interesting game. Luck is involved, but to a smaller degree than I thought. Especially when you're down to three players or one on one you really have to push, regardless of your hand.
I guess it's up to you what you call it: either getting lucky or good bluff when your opponent folds after throwing so much of his money in the pot.
Fun game.
Even more if you end up winning.

Nineties Action Movies

Today for some reason I wondered about which action movie from the nineties was the best one, and I came up with this list:

Top 2 (I just can't make up my mind of which one deserves the number one spot more):

True Lies (1994)
This movie is just awesome. It has a great secret agent opening sequence with Arnie inflitrating the mansion, then escaping through the snow (poor doggies). Later the shootout in the hotel bathroom, the horse that doesn't want to jump skyscrapers, even a nuclear explosion. Lots of action, lots of comedy. Charlton Heston is in it. Too bad James Cameron never made a sequel.

Die Hard With A Vengeance (1995)
"I didn't say park drive. I said through the park!"
When this came out I went to the cinema and saw it three times on three consecutive days. The first time I disliked it. The second time I liked it. The third time I loved it. I still love it. It's awesome.

Place 3-5:

The Rock (1996)
"Hey Man, you just fucked up your Ferrari."
I love Nicolas Cage action flicks. This was probably the first one. He was all whiny in this one, but then again he had Sean Connery to team up with.

Terminator 2 (1991)
"I need your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle." Do I have to say more?

Demolition Man (1993)
Stallone and Sandra Bullock in one movie. L.A. destroyed in 1996. I've seen it so often dubbed over German: "Kalmieren Sie sich, John Spartan!"

Place 5-9:

The Last Boy Scout (1991)
"The sky is blue, water is wet, women have secrets."
Probably the coolest Bruce Willis movie ever. Awesome script by Shane Black. "Satan Claus" is in it. Halle Berry dies a horrible death.
(on a side note: at some point Joe Hallenbeck says to a minor bad guy: "She said her husband was a big pimp lookin' motherfucker with a hat."
The German dubbed version turned it into "Du siehst du aus wie ein verwichster Zuhälter mit Hut.", which means basically the same thing.
One night in a city I didn't know so well and between bars I quoted this line to a guy and his friends. The guy, whom I had never seen before, really looked the part, and I kind of hoped he'd recognise the quote and therefore kind of dismiss the underlying insult. (Truthfully: I probably didn't care, I was a bit drunk.) I didn't mean to insult him, really. It just seemed so much fun to use this quote on him at that particular moment.
Luckily I had a bunch of friends with me, too. When I just walked away they used a lot of effort and spend quite a bit of time negotiating the pimp and his friends down. Thank you, friends.

Con Air (1997)
"That's a rock."
As I said, I love Nicolas Cage action flicks. In this one he really really overdoes the southern accent tough guy saying things like "why couldn't you put the bunny back in the box" before kicking ass. This movie is totally ridiculous, but so much fun, right up to the ending in Vegas, where John Malcovich gets killed by some fly-by propeller blade.

Cliffhanger (1993)
Stallone in the mountains. That's all I need really to be entertained. The opening sequence also always makes me think of Ace Ventura 2. (Also it stole or re-used the music from The Last of the Mohicans (1992). I like the Cliffhanger score more.)

Under Siege (1992)
Gary Busey and Tommy Lee Jones are the bad guys, Steven Seagal is the ex-special forces chef who saves the day, the whole thing is Die Hard on a boat - there are many reasons to love this movie. I personally only need two: Erika Eleniak's boobs. I used to frame-by-frame her on my old VHS back in the day.

Place 10 (three movies here):

Speed (1994)
"Shoot the hostage."
Die Hard on a bus. To me this movie is gritty. And Dennis Hopper makes an awesome bad guy. Sandra Bullock is in it. I am a fan. Always have been. Likely always will be.

Last Action Hero (1993)
This one was so underrated. I love all the little references everywhere.

Die Hard 2 (1990)
"Why does this keep happening to us?"
The third best film in the Die Hard franchise.

Honorable Mention:

Total Recall (1990)
Arnie, Sharon Stone, lots of blood and gore and great special effects. Awesome.

Goldeneye (1995)
I couldn't not mention a James Bond film here. So I chose this one, mainly because I've always loved the bungee jump off the dam in the opening sequence.

The Matrix (1999)
This one really set off the CGI era in action movies. Therefore I mention it here. It is awesome after all.

All these movies are movies that I try to re-watch every few years or more frequently. I might have forgotten one or two. I didn't mention The Fugitive (1993), because it is not really an action movie. Bad Boys (1995) and Armageddon (1998) come to mind, too, the former probably a candidate for the honorable mention section, the latter I just enjoyed watching. Then there is The Specialist (1994) and Assassins (1995), both solid Stallone vehicles. Lethal Weapon 3 (1993) should also be mentioned, but in my opinion it just doesn't reach the quality of it's predecessors.

Maybe I'll compile a list of eighties action flicks next.

Vanessa Williams

Remember 20 years ago she claimed that "sometimes the snow comes down in june"? If you don't, you can refresh your memory here.

See, I never really believed her*. I thought she was using this line metaphorically to express something else entirely, like a stylistic device.
I've been thinking this ever since I first heard the song.

Until this morning.
This morning changed everything, because june is only eight days away.

I also know that I live in a climate zone that allows for certain tax breaks due to its proximity to the everlasting ice, but then again we are kind of at the summery end of said zone. Last year winter turned to summer in late april: plus 20 degrees just like that all the way to september.

But this year Vanessa Williams has a realistic shot at something like truth verbatim. June is only eight days away.
This morning I looked out the window and saw this:

Yes, that's right. Snow. On may 23rd. Snow. Let me spell that for you: S.N.O.W. As in cold and wet and falling from the sky. Once again for the slow ones among you: S-N-O-W. Like that rapper dude from the nineties.

Okay, Vanessa. Let's see if your pronouncement will be true this year**. Eight days to go.



*Assuming her words apply to the northern hemisphere only. I wonder if Vanessa ever considered recording an alternate version for the southern hemisphere, something like "sometimes the snow comes down in december".

**And if it does prove true, does that mean that the rest of the lyrics will be true, too? Like the sun going around the moon? Wouldn't that have serious effects on the planets well-being? As in desaster? As in end-of-the-world? As in apocalypse? Oh Vanessa, what have you done. Let's hope you're wrong and will be so forever.

As Suggested By Popular Demand*

My Heart Is A Strawberry & The Blaine Lake Audio Report

combined and available for you to watch right now right here for the first and only time.



The written account of this experience can be found here.

*which translates to: 1 person, jokingly. I'm dedicating this to that very person. This is for you. Enjoy.

Rammstein

Friday, about 4 PM. Four hours to go until the start of the show. We took our time getting ready, ordered some pizza, hung out in our hotel room. We had a great view of the arena across the street, and soon the first fans showed up.

Fans. Always show up ridiculously early. Should we run over there, too?

Naah. Clint's on.

At about seven we went downstairs into the hotel bar to have a few drinks. We heard the music thumping from three floors up, evidently the hotel staff had put on the right tunes for a Rammstein crowd. The place was packed with fans. It was awesome.
I don't know if we were just lucky or if the God of Metal was smiling upon us, but a table cleared just when we got there. Fabulous waitresses in short skirts were humming about: we got our drinks almost before we even had a chance to order them.

After my first Corona I stepped outside for a nice fine smoke, and outside the place was buzzing like crazy, too. Rock music was playing, and clever businessmen were shouting out tickets at the corner; folks dressed in black metal wear crowded the sidewalks, and tattooed girls in ripped tights showed off a lot of skin and questionable make up. Everybody was happy and laughing and charged with anticipation. It was great.

We had few more drinks and then walked over to the arena. Inside the support band was already playing. Some featureless hardcore metal I didn't recognize. In fact, they were through their set already, for when we got to our seats they were finishing their last song.
We got ourselves another beer in the lobby and looked at Rammstein merchandise: a great variety of posters in various sizes, t-shirts, hoodies, belts et cetera. Long lines of fans in front of it. Our driver got himself some wallpapers.
I got myself some napkins from a hotdog stand, and out of them I improvised some earplugs. Didn't want to ruin my hearing for a Rammstein show. Yes, it was that loud.

Before the show.

And then they turned off the lights. Darkness. The crowd who'd been screaming "Rammstein! Rammstein! Rammstein!" before, fell silent. And then...

CLANG!
BANG!

The blackness broke open in two different spots. White light shot into the audience. Shapes emerged in those light beams, wielding a pickaxe, a giant hammer, using them to break off more darkness. CLANG! BANG!
In the center a line of fiery sparks went up, then over, then down again, like a blowtorch cutting through metal from the outside, and then with a deafening BOOM the barrier was kicked down and fell and there he was, the singer of Rammstein, spreading his arms like Jesus himself, and his followers were jumping and screaming like crazy before him, and that was the moment when the drums and the bass and the electric guitars kicked in and the hardcore was on.

This is "Du hast". The sound quality is terrible, but perhaps you get an idea of how loud it was. Awesome!

There were lots of fireworks and flames. At one point ("Benzin") they brought a giant gasoline pump on stage. The singer took the nozzle and started using it like a flame thrower, shooting fire all over the place. At the same time a guy dressed like a fan climbed onto the stage from the crowd and was hit by the flames and set on fire and ran around screaming and burning until a guy with a fire extinguisher came running. He put out the flames and two big security guys dragged the "fan" off stage.
Later the keyboarder tried to kick the singer, but in return he himself got thrown into a bathtub. The singer then poured liquid fire into that same bathtub.
Through all that the heavy hypntoic rhythm of distorted guitars, bass and drums, played precisely and on-the-spot - broken up only by string sequences from the keyboarder, who by the way emerged from his fiery bath not only in perfect health, but also wearing a new sparkling suit. For the rest of the show he could be seen walking on the spot by his keyboards, like a machine.

Fire!

Our seats were on the 2nd level, directly opposite the stage. Furthest away from the action, you could say. Therefore my pictures might be a bit blurry.

Down in the mosh pit people were going crazy.

They had all kinds of lights in the show: every colour you can think of, and they also had laser light. Whee!

When in doubt, bend your knees and headbang.

They played all their major hits. Everything was in German, except a few lines in "Du hast" (Never! Never!) and in "Pussy" (You've got a pussy! I've got a dick! So what's the problem? Let's do it quick! - finalized by I can't get laid in Germany!).

Here's me, mesmerized.

Altogether an awesome show and well worth both the money and the drive. I'd go again.

Keeping Busy

What do you do in the backseat of a car during a 16 hour drive to keep busy?
Right.
You take pictures.
Of the scenery
and
of the inside of the car
and
of yourself.

Then again you don't really take a lot of pictures of the scenery, because they don't turn out so well. Moving car, shooting through glass - you can't expect good results there. Photographing the car's interior is kind of boring, too. Backseat. Backs of front seats. Driver in rearview mirror. Backs of heads of fellow travellers. Your feet. Garbage accumulating.
Yeah, yeah, yawn.

That leaves yourself.
I took a lot of pictures of myself.
Here they are.

In the car.

Not in the car.

One more thing concerning this blog:
A few posts ago I misquoted James T. Kirk and maybe General Chang, too. The correct quote is of course: "Earth, Hitler, 1938."
Then again I do not know if it is advisable to quote from movie characters. After all what they say changes a lot. After all they are not even real. General Chang actually says "We need breathing room!" in the original film, only the German dubbed version seems to put Hitler's words in his mouth. Hitler himself probably completely refused to speak any English. However, Captain Kirk attributes both the English and German exclamation to Hitler, even though according to the script he was just supposed to beg Chang's pardon (I don't even want to start thinking about Chang being a Klingon, let's just not go there).

And again one more thing concerning this blog:
You may have noticed that I usually do not mention any real person by their real name nor show anybody's picture in this blog. I also try do avoid revealing names of places. My general two rules were: The only face you get to see on this blog is mine (scroll upwards a bit, q.e.d.). The only name you get to read is mine (Brato).
With passing time (this is my 3rd year of blogging) these rules have inevitably softened; bit by bit I have revealed pieces of information from which the observant reader might be able to conclude where I live, where I'm from and so on.
I am also aware that especially during the last few posts I have broken my own rules quite harshly by mentioning for example certain roads and travel times and of course by talking about Courtney and where she works.

But I could not resist. I did it because she's real.

From now on privacy shall be maintained as before.

...And Back Again.

Our checkout time was 11 AM saturday morning. We arrived in the hotel lobby at about 10:59 AM. There was a line of pale hangover heavy metal party zombies, but the receptionists handled it well. We were out of there by 11:15 and because it had been so nice the first time around, we decided to visit that over-the-top mall at the west-end one more time.

On our way to the mall.

Our first stop there was the food court for breakfast (I had sushi), and then time just flew away. Shopping malls. I didn't buy a single thing, one of my companions got himself some kind of garment, but the clock had run on to 3 PM when we turned out of the parking garage.
We were on our way home, on a slightly different route this time. Two changes: We wanted to avoid gravel-highway 9 and also later on instead of the divided highway use a smaller one which suited our direction better. This together was supposed to shave off a good hour of our overall travel time.

I myself was kind of tired, and anticipating driving again later on I fell asleep in the backseat. Missed all the bisons.
I woke up again when we passed into the next province and stopped for coffee at a Tim Hortons without a drive through. Imagine that, no drive through. I immediately suspected foul play here. A fake hoax sham corporation pretending to be the nations famous coffee chain. Once we were inside further warning bells went off inside my head after reading a sign advertising "real fruit smoothies".
Real fruit smoothies. That sounded delicious. Outside it was summer, t-shirt weather, blue skies all over, really really warm, a real fruit smoothie would be just the thing, wouldn't it? But I just couldn't believe there'd be someone in the back room throwing real fruit into a blender. Not in a coffee and doughnut place. And what exactly did they mean by "smoothie"? Blended fruit? Blended fruit with yoghurt? Blended fruit with slush? Fruit-flavoured slush?
There were just too many questions, so I asked.

"What's in your real fruit smoothie?"

The woman looked at me as if I had asked for a horsemeat burger and managed "I'm sorry?"
For some reason I always automatically assume that people don't catch what I say because of my accent (German) or perhaps because I mumble or something, so I just asked the same question again. This time I tried to pronounce everything as carefully as I could.
"Your real fruit smoothie. What is in it?"
There was a pause, and then she responded something that I didn't quite catch, maybe because of her accent (Asian), so I said: "Excuse me?"
She: "Fruit. There's fruit in it."
"Yes", I said, "is it just fruit or do you put something else in it, too? Like dairy?"
They (a second woman had joined her, drawn in by the strange delay in serving costumers) just looked at me as if I was nuts.
"I just wanna know what's in your fruit smoothies", I said. "Some people put yoghurt in there. Is your's just fruit and fresh and all?"
They exchanged a glance, then the first one said: " I don't know, it's fruit."
They have no idea, I thought.
"It comes frozen", she added.
"Okay", I said, "I'll have a large black coffee with two sugar, please."
From the other line-up my companions had watched the whole conversation with a mix of confusion and amusement in their eyes. "He doesn't like it!" the driver said with a grin.
Woman number two put my coffee in front of me, woman number one said: "1.46."
I didn't want to start my 50, so I gave her coins. "1, 1.25, 35..."
"Exact change", she whispered to her co-worker, shaking her head ever so slightly.
"40...1...2...3...4...5...6. Thank you very much."
I went outside and had a smoke and my coffee (which was really good) and enjoyed the sunshine. My fellow travellers joined me, and we watched people in convertibles drive by.

Then we drove on through the ever flat prairies.

We saw a fire in the distance.

We saw flocks of geese in the sky.

We tried to drive faster than our shadow.

We stopped to take a piss.

We stopped to stretch a bit. The sun went down.

The moon came up.

At dusk we reached a little place that featured two gas stations and not much else. On the right they offered no-name fuel and had a restaurant called the "12.40". I assumed everything was $12.40 in there. On the left they had Esso.
Since our motto has always been "When in doubt, go left", we chose the Esso. A brand name is always good, after all. Nobody wants their engine to blow because of some crappy no-name gas.

It was right there, at that dusty Esso station among those few buildings in the middle of the everlasting flatness, that I fell in love a little bit.

I took this picture when we turned into the gas station.

We stopped between a truck with an old guy in the drivers seat to the right and a van with half a family in it to the left. A guy was stowing something in the trunk.
To the right a matching old lady exited the store. She was carrying ice cream in her hand. Ice cream. I instantly wanted ice cream. So I got out of the car and went around the corner to the door and saw a woman locking what must have been the ice box. She was wearing some kind of light blue or so sweater. In a sudden influx of politeness I decided to say hello and just as she was turning towards me I said: "Hi! What's the name of this place?"

"Oh", she said, with a bright smile, with sunshine in her eyes, with friendliness and happiness radiating out of her like an aura: "it's just regular Esso here."
She had dark hair to her shoulders, and a beautiful face and pale skin. Her eyes were blue, or maybe brown, I didn't see or don't remember, because the welcoming cheerfulness in her demeanor lit up the whole place.
"Oh", I said, "no, I mean, what's the name of this..." and my English left me for a second "..village?"
Her smile never stopped, and her eyes sparkled, and she said:"The name of this town? Blaine Lake, this is Blaine Lake."
That's when I fell in love with her a little bit. There was a vibrancy of joy about her, so very natural and radiant; she seemed to be doing this without thinking, she emanated happiness that could only be pure.
It was a liveliness that Layla wouldn't possess in a thousand years.
This pretty gas station woman from Blaine Lake in the middle of nowhere had just done what Layla couldn't. I was excited.

I could feel it. "Hello", called my penis.
Blaine Lake, I thought, "Blaine Lake", I said.

She had just made my day. Just by being friendly to some passers-by stranger this woman had taken from him a nice little chunk of his heart, and had given him not only a little crush but also an impression that would last and a pleasant memory that he would cherish.

It must have taken me a while to process her charisma. She wasn't there anymore.
I realized she must have gone inside again.
So I went in, too.

It was a small store, the usual chips and snack food, a little back a few wall coolers filled with drinks and beverages. There was a section for camping. A shelf for household staples. A few audio CD's and a few DVD's. My travel companions were already in there.

She was behind the counter. He name tag said "Courtney". I walked the aisles a little bit, then found the ice cream cooler right next to the counter.
"There's the ice cream!" I said.

I bought a Magnum and paid with a fiver. She gave me about 81 cents back. I thought: I should complement her on her friendliness. I thought: I should ask her if she wants to be my facebook friend. I thought: I should have the driver take a picture of Courtney and me.

I didn't do any of that.
I went outside and started eating my ice cream.
Then we drove away.
Blaine Lake, Courtney, Blaine Lake, I repeated in my head*.

A few hours later we stopped in a major city outside a restaurant, just to adjust our navigation system. I amused myself by taking pictures of unsuspecting restaurant guests from inside the car. Then one of them started staring at me and I realized a tiny orange light comes on everytime I aim my camera.
We quickly drove away and went to the same Wal-Mart we had visited before (I bought red bull again), and then to a MacDonalds. Then gas. Then on.

She sold us our burgers just before midnight. Very polite. I took this picture out of the car, because we were bored waiting for what seemed like a lifetime for our driver. He was in the bathroom. The restaurant was just about to close up for the night, and a few minutes earlier the manager and her had tried to check the restrooms, but stopped dead in their tracks upon opening the door. They walked away quickly and busied themselves otherwise. In the car we were laughing our asses off.

I tried to sleep some more. At about 3 AM we pulled over. It was my turn to drive. I looked around: we were somewhere on a straight highway with nothing but woods in all directions. It was dark and chilly. I opened my first can of red bull and settled in and drove. Same as before: stay between the lines, keep an eye out for deer, stay awake. I established a routine to keep me busy: Look straight ahead. Check left mirror. Look ahead. Check rearview mirror. Look ahead. Check clock on dash. Look ahead. Check kilometer clock. Drink beverage. Start over.

We reached the next town at dawn and gassed up at a closed down gas station. Pay at the pump. We also saw two joggers there. It was like 5 AM. Crazy. It was only four more hours to home, and it was light out, so I just kept driving until we reached that junction we had stopped at on our way out.
I got myself a coffee.

This time the squirrel didn't evade me.

Then the last little bit. One more hour of highway, then gravel. We arrived back in bfnowhere at about 9 AM.

Me, tired. Not far now.

*Back home I looked, but I couldn't find her on facebook.

City, Friday, 7 AM

So there we were, all three of us dead tired, just wanting to fall into a bed and sleep until late afternoon. Unfortunately most hotels don't let you check in before at least 1 PM. Ours didn't, either. Our clock read something like 7 AM, and it was still set to home time. Here it was actually only 6 AM.
So what do you do in a big city on a friday morning at 6 AM when all you want to do is sleep?
Right.
We went to a Denny's.

A Denny's is some kind of family restaurant that also serves breakfast. And coffee. While we were waiting for our food, I watched the other costumers and their choices of breakfast: The usual eggs and bacon of course, but on top of that most of them also had fat pancakes with lots of maple syrup and on the side great amounts of sweet french toast. Crazy. Then came the coffee, which by the way was pretty crappy.
Last night, just about when I drove us across the line and into this province, at 4 AM maybe, I stopped at some small town gas station. An old lady there sold me what must have been the best cup of coffee in the world. I also used the bathroom there (which took a while), and it was the cleanest bathroom I have ever seen at a gas station in my life. I was impressed. It was awesome.
Denny's: Not so awesome. The breakfast was ok, but in my opinion overpriced. The bathroom had cold water only. They didn't tell me that my fruit cost extra. But maybe I was just tired.

Back in the car the clock said 9 AM. So we decided to drive across town to some big-ass shopping mall with indoor ice rink, indoor pool with real waves, indoor amusement park, indoor sea lion show, indoor movie theatre, indoor pirate ship and lots of other costumer-lures. We parked somewhere in the empty parking garage and slept for an hour until the place opened up.

The sea lion show at the mall. Probably especially arranged for a group of school kids, given the early time.

There was an H&M in the mall, which always reminds me of Europe, so I went inside. I saw a nice pair of cargo pants, so I bought them and put them on right away. That was nice. For some reason since I've been living in this country I have developed quite a distaste for my European style more-on-the-tight-side jeans. Like the pair I was wearing, purchased last year in Amsterdam. A little tight in the crotch area. When I put on my new cargo pants, it felt like liberation. It was like my balls had been screaming: "Unser Volk braucht Raum!"*, which all of a sudden was given to them. Also my fatigue level instantly decreased by 50 percent.

The hotel. During the afternoon it would fill up with all kinds of heavy metal fans, who'd sport mohawks or long headbanger's hair, who'd be pierced and tattooed all over the place and who'd be showing off the colours of the band they pray to - through t-shirts, belts, flags and attire that paid hommage to certain music videos of said band - I saw a guy wearing the hat of an artist combined with a white butcher's apron.

We made it back to the hotel somewhere between noon and 1 PM local time, checked in without any problems and went to sleep.

*Earth, Hitler, 1936 (according to Kirk, James T., Captain USS Enterprise)

Road Trip

Last weekend some local dudes took me on a road trip. A sixteen hour ride covering three provinces. Almost 3000 kilometers. For all you Europeans out there: That's like driving from Berlin to Rome and back. Over there you'd probably not even drive that for a nice two week vacation. You'd take a plane. In this country it's a nice weekend trip. Three days on the road for a concert show.

We left here on a thursday at about 1 in the afternoon. 90 minutes gravel, then blacktop road. They call it highway. I'd call it Alte Letzlinger. No one else on the road, endless bush to the left, endless bush to the right. First stop after about two hours, because they always stop there when they drive somewhere: a lonely gas station next to some more or less important highway junction.

I bought some coffee and chocolate bars for the road.

They had a squirrel there, right outside the door. It didn't run when I went in, it was still there when I came back out. Just sitting there, eyes darting between me and the garbage can. I talked to it for a while, then went to get my camera from the car. Back at the door the squirrel was gone.
On we drove. The next settlement or sign of civilisation came about four hours later. A small town. We gassed up and decided to have some food. I myself always develop a strange desire for MacDonalds when back from nowhere, but the MacDonalds was closed. Imagine that.
We went to Burger Kind instead.
Bad idea. The food was mediocre at best, the staff as friendly as robots. I myself really enjoy the latest efforts of major fast food chains to make their restaurants look more stylish. Not here though. You walk in, you sit down with your food and as soon as you take your first bite you feel like a complete and total low-life loser.

I had a sandwich that was supposed to have mushrooms, because that's what it looked like on the picture. I even asked if it were mushrooms. Uh, mushrooms? Yes, they said. In the end it turned out to be onions.

We got back on the road. We were about to cross into the next province and hit Highway 9. I was looking forward to that. Highway 9. I imagined straight smooth road, immaculate lines painted on asphalt, divided highway.
It took about half an hour or so to get there. What can I say, the asphalt ended, gravel started.
Highway 9 was a gravel road.

A wolf next to highway 9.

At the province line.

The was a lot of swampy looking woods both sides of this highway 9. Lots of water right next to the road. Inevitably thoughts about breaking down here crossed my mind. Three guys lived for four days on three cans of coke and one mars bar while wading through treacherous swamps and evading killer wolfs and monster bears. Didn't happen, though. And even if, we would have been rescued: There was one other car.

It took us four hours to get back to a proper road, and to another town. I bought ice cream there, Magnum. Then we drove on, scenery flying by left and right, listening to music that was foreshadowing the show we were about see. I drank coke out of cans, are mandarins and chocolate bars. It was very nice traveling.

Until the next stop.

The next stop came sudden and was an utterly unwanted and totally unscheduled and completely unnecessary one.

"I have you at 121 in a 100 zone..."

Fifteen minutes later and having gained valuable experience and some expensive paperwork we were back on our way.
The land had become very flat, wooded areas had been replaced by endless fields in all directions. Just barren land to the horizon, a few bushes and small tress here and there.

Another two hours later, it was dark by now, we reached a major city. Time for food (MacDonalds, finally), groceries (red bull, I also bought a book) and gas. The gas station guy was some young dude who coincidentally wanted to go to see the same show, but couldn't. Probably broke or something. I told him to jump in, but he said he had to work another hour. I didn't say anything to that, and he kept standing next to our car until we drove away.

Nice highway now, divided and all.
I was getting tired. It was dark outside, nothing to see, just the music and the droning of tyres. Two hours later, right past the next bigger settlement, our driver asked me to take over.

"Yeah, I can drive."

Bought those red bulls for something after all. I also decided to have myself a nice fine smoke first, so I rolled one and got out of the car and stood there and jumped around in the cold wind. We were on the outskirts of some town, some lights in the distance, everything else just darkness.

I could feel the nicotine enter my blood stream.

I got in the car, adjusted the seat and off we went. According to the clock on the dash it was 1:38 AM. I settled for a nice 110 km/h and tried to keep the continuous line to the right and the dashed one to the left. There was no other traffic. Just the road, straight like a ribbon through the dark prairie night.
Four or five hours I drove like that, with my passengers either sleeping or dozing. Dawn came, that made it easier. I had set the heater to very off, the cold blasted away, my feet felt like blocks of ice, but it kept me awake. Then we stopped for bisons.

Unfortunately they were a bit shy and didn't want their picture taken.

A new day is dawning. This is it.

We were very close now, just about an hour to go. But somebody had turned the heat up, and it hit me like a truck, so our number one driver took over again. I fell into the backseat, and when I woke up again, we were in the city already, right in front of our hotel, the concert venue just across the street.
We had reached our destination.

Life Imitates Video Game

Her name was Layla. Or Delilah, I might have misunderstood, there was loud pop music playing in the background. Layla-Delilah was dancing to the music, sort of. She wore nothing but a bright yellow bikini and was just about to take that off, too. Her eyes were brown, her hair dark blonde, her skintone well north of pale but south of light bronze. She smelled like baby powder and roses.
There was not an ounce of extra fat on her.
She had nice firm breasts, not too big, not too small. Her nipples were hard.
But she couldn't dance for shit.

She had picked me up about 10 minutes earlier. She found me sitting comfortably in a chair, enjoying the show, nursing a beer. There was an Asian woman dancing on the stage, and boy, could she move. She was wearing a fedora and had just shed her long blue country dress. I was looking forward to see her vagina.
That's when Layla put her arms around me from behind and brought her face close to mine.
"Want to have some fun with me?"
I realized I had seen her before, walking around, offering her services to other guests. Tall, neon bra and panty, long legs, gold-coloured high heels. But not my type: wrong face. Lips to thin maybe, or nose too snub, or me not drunk enough: she was pretty, but she just didn't do it for me. Perhaps it was her attitude. Too fake.
I also knew it'd be expensive. But I was curious.
"How does that work?" I said.
"We go downstairs together where it's all private and then we have fun."
I risked a look at the Asian, she had taken off her top by now. I felt Layla's hand in mine.
"Come on, let's go!" she said and walked away.
Well, why not. "Okay" I said and followed her.

She led me down two flights of stairs into a dungeon and through a pair of metal doors. To the right I could see small rooms hidden behind curtains, to the left Layla, who had stopped next to a counter. Behind it stood a blonde woman with big breasts. She asked me something to the effect of "How much do you want to spend tonight?"

"What are my options?" I inquired.

"240, or 350 for the whole night."
"Do you want me the whole night?" Layla chipped in, smiling.
If to me you were superhot, hellyeah, but you're not even my type, so no, thank you very much, I thought.
"...or 120 minimum" the blonde woman finished.
To me, Layla clearly wasn't worth 120 bucks. I had seen a brunette girl upstairs, petite, pink underwear, beautiful face, I'd pay 120 bucks for her. But not for Layla.
I said: "Thank you, but I can't afford it. I'm gonna go back upstairs."
With that I turned to leave.
The blonde was clever though. "How much can you afford?"
Good question.
My curiosity got the better of me. I told her 50 bucks would be okay.
"Make it 60 and you get two!" she said.
"Yes, make it 60!" said Layla.
"Two what?" I asked.
"Two dances."
Well, why not. I pulled three twenties out of my wallet and chucked them on the desk. "Alright."

And that's how Layla and I ended up in a private room. The music was Rihanna, and then Kesha, and later something else I didn't immediately recognize, very likely Black Eyed Peas. The room was painted dark red and was square shaped with a furry bench on one wall. I sat down on it and spread my arms on the backrest and could touch the walls on either side with my hands. Opposite me was the curtain, and Layla, who immediately jumped on my lap, one knee to my left, one knee to my right. She started moving her body to the music and whispered:

"No touching, no kissing, no blowing, no nothing. Enjoy."

The space between her breast was right in front of my face. I wanted to look up to see her face, but she was too close. This was the moment when I noticed what her skin smelled like. I was waiting for some kind of reaction from my penis, but there was none.
She then danced in front of me, standing. It seemed all awkward to me. I wished she'd say something, but she didn't. Instead she turned around and bent over to give me nice long look at her ass, which was a very very nice looking ass. When she came back up I asked what her name was, just to make this a bit more personal.
"Layla."
"Nice name." I said. Couldn't think of anything else to say.
Then she took her top off and came close again and I got a bit distracted by her boobs and nipples. Still all quiet on the cock front, though. Maybe better this way, since this was "for your EYES only" entertainment. No kissing, no touching, no blowing, no coming, no toys, no vegetables, no fingers, no nothing. The most PG13 exotic entertainment gentleman's club ever, with crappy music and overpriced drinks.
She was now in the process of taking her panties off (she was wearing an even smaller second black one under the neon-yellow one).
I felt it was the right time for a nice pop culture quote, so I said: "This no touching rule is killing me."
She responded by bending over again, picking imaginary things off the floor.
I said: "Oh yeah."
Still nothing from the penis.

She danced on, placed herself sideways to the right of me so I could look at her vagina some more. I settled on doing that, because whenever I risked a glance at her face or into her eyes I saw nothing but detachement. Maybe I should start telling her what to do, I thought. Make her talk. Make her make me believe this dance was special and for me alone.
But then my time was up.
"I see you upstairs, sweetie." she said.
Yeah, right.

I sat back down in my chair just in time to see Asian Woman walk off stage. Too bad. Missed her pussy.
About one more Corona and two dancers later I felt like quoting from Grand Theft Auto IV again. I aimed for the exact tone of Nico Bellic's voice in order to match the extent of annoyance and boredom and questioning why he had gone there in the first place when he says: "I've had enough. Let's get out of here."


This is the place. Admissíon: $7. Corona: $7.50. ATM inside, fee: $7 minimum. Small posters of exotic dancers: $5-$25, depending on your dexterity and/or endurance (a game: after each performance the dancer makes the audience throw loonies into rolled up posters held close to pussy, or they stick fridge magnets bearing their picture to their skin (vagina, ass, boobs), and if you hit it with your coin and it sticks, you win. In one case 5 hits in a row earned you a freshly shot polaroid of Darla's pussy. I gave it a shot, of course. No luck, though, it only got me a poster of Darla. I still have it. Can't put it on the wall here, too many visitors. Maybe I'll send it to my father-in-law.
Altogether the atmosphere of Eden matches that of a second rate dance club without dance floor. Everything is very money-oriented and impersonal. Compared to a couple of places I've seen in Amsterdam, it is also kind of innocent. Still fun though, for a while.

Follow Up

Whoo, this facebook is quite something. I came back from work today and already had 14 friends.

What will I do now?
Look up ex-girlfriends? What if I can't find them?
Re-establish connections?
Enjoy the warm feeling of being able to contact people from high school who I have never even been friends with?
Show off how far away I live now? My moustache?
So many options and possibilites. Thank you, social network.

My life was so simple before.
Now I am all addicted again. Luckily I've finally reached 100% game progress in GTA4 two days ago, so I can rest somewhat assured at least.

Did I mention that it is snowing again?

Everybody Wants To Be Part Of Something Bigger

So I did go back to facebook.

I made a new account, and now I already feel so instantly lo--hooo--hooo--hooo- nee-ly,
because I don't have no friends!

My god.
OH MY GOD.

What did I do.
This must be the end.

Please feel free to add me.
I'll say yes, promise.

Komm lieber Mai und mache...

Twice this year have I put away my winter coat, my winter boots, my winter scarf.
After the first time it was okay to take the winter wear out again, it would have been weird somehow anyway if winter had left without coming back at us at least once
(man, all those grammar lessons back in grade 8 and 9 really are paying off now).
In the past days we found ourselves enjoying the strong rays of the sun; we were sitting in the warm sunlight thinking about summer cigarettes and beer.
Then this happened:


We got ourselves a bit of a snow storm. Several inches of snow. Blown to big heaps (on my way to work today I sank into it up to my knees every now and then). Now please remember: This is may first. The first of may. A holiday, where I come from.

Where I come from, people are usually sunbathing in the park on this day. Enjoying ice cream and cold beer in outside cafés. All I can enjoy is icy winds and blowing snow.
Well, whatever.

I took the picture this morning, in the evening everything was different again. The snow has become wet and heavy (perfect for building the last snowman of the year), and the winds have slowed. I'm sure it'll be summer soon.

Oh, another thing:
I am considering to be to facebook again. Maybe I should have an account there again, because it's a nice tool to stay in contact with people that one doesn't bother staying in contact with otherwise. Or perhaps I shouldn't say "one doesn't bother", but "one is too busy for" or "one just never gets around to".
So I am seriously considering it.