UPDATE: Nostalgia Report: My First Stand-up Experience

July 3rd, 2005
This is me outside of the "Comedy Underground" in Seattle preparing for my set fifteen minutes before I went on. Note the confidence.














THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED (sorry for the low volume):

2006 AFCC Unveiled!

1) Cheesiness Factor: 9.1

a. We may as well address this right off the bat: yes, there is no holiday pun in this year’s Anderson Family Christmas Card. This may come as a shock and certainly melt the minds of some internet viewers out there, but we would all be remiss if we couldn’t appreciate the non-pun cheesiness littered throughout the card. First of all, working with animal actors? Always cheesy. Putting your face in a cutout of Thai dancers? Cheesier than a family trip to Mount Rushmore. Getting that elephant to give me a trunkjob? Well, I guess that’s more “gross” than cheesy.

2) Holiday Spirit: 5.0
a. Yea….there is no holiday spirit in this card. I should have scored a 0, but that would throw off the Total too much.

3) Creativity: 9.9
a. Flying to Asia just to make a Christmas card? That in itself is creative enough. Personally, I like the unorthodox layout of the card. Naysayers may disagree (the term “too UN” has come up), but frankly, all they do is naysay. The near perfect creativity score is due to a combination of imaginative locales and foreign script. (Side note: the Thai writing presumably says something like “Happy Holidays”, but could also mean “Fuck your grandfather with a wrench.” So I guess that’s a disclaimer.) I also like how there is no English at all on the card, so unless recipients of the 2006 AFCC recognize the Anderson Family, they’ll be left thinking, “Who the fuck sent us this piece of shit?” or something about Todd looking like a hippie.

4) Degree of Difficulty: 10.0
a. Unquestionably the most difficult AFCC ever. Buying, training, photographing, and ultimately slaughtering the animals for sale on the Japanese black market was physically draining and emotionally taxing. Especially with the camel, Colonel Flappylips, who I became quite fond of during our 3-hour photo shoot. Not that that heterosexual-camel crush had any effect on my interspecies relationship with Deborah the elephant. That would be just wrong.

Capturing the sand dunes jumping shot was also difficult as it’s rare enough to capture a mid-air double fakey toe grab and a Ted Nugent “Exploder” air guitar separately, let alone in the same frame.

Total: 9.4

Krabi - Southern Thailand

I took this picture from a kayak and then proceeded to cut the shit out of my feet dragging it onto the rocks....goddamnit, where the fuck were my Aquasox?

Quick Shout-Out to "Ping Ping" for Fixing my Bike and for Starring in a Slew of '70s Pornos. Keep up the 'Stashe, Mate.

Songkran

Thailand’s Songkran “Water Festival” holiday is held annually around mid-April. Basically, it’s a countrywide water fight in which one can expect to be wet for at least 4 days, but up to 8 in some areas. The soaking itself can come in many different forms: 14-18 people crammed into the back of a pickup truck with squirt guns and water buckets, a small gathering of children and adults on the roadside equipped with squirt guns and water buckets, a waiter equipped with a glass of water, God equipped with rain, etc. Basically, you are going to get wet.
Sometimes the holiday can be fun and cute: a drunk water fight on the beach with your friends or seeing a smiling 2-year-old standing on the sidewalk with water dribbling out of his tiny squirting pistol. Other times Songkran can be not so fun and certainly not cute: getting nailed by a bucket of ice water while walking to work at 7:30am or watching an old, fat, hairy Danish guy soak motorists with a bunch of Thai children because he thinks he’s part of their culture and may have an unhealthy interest in little boys.

Oh, the other thing is everyone gets drunk the entire time. So by Day 4 or so, you have a bunch of perennially wet and drunk people who are starting to get a little cranky. Sometimes an individual would soak an oncoming motorcyclist with a bucket of ice water to the face and neither the attackee nor the attacker would look in any way pleased. Also foreigners (i.e. white people) seem to be a more sought after target than your average Thai, so we get a little extra juice during the holiday. This has led some farangs (which means ‘white person’, but literally means ‘guava fruit.’ Evidently Thais referred to early French colonialists as farangs, I’m not sure why, but more importantly, it is now acceptable to refer to French people as “fucking guavas.”) to believe that the entire holiday is a sham to allow the supposedly "constantly-smiling" Thai people a once-in-a-year chance to take out all their frustration on foreigners….and each other.

By the end of the holiday, this habitual dripping and intoxicated state can result in foreigners screaming things like “Fuck Thailand!” and hiding in their rooms or slightly more serious things, like people beating each other to death (Woohoo!! Songkran!!). But all in all, it’s a good experience and could be an interesting holiday to try in America if we could limit the inevitable, rampant gun violence.

Ko Chang Weekend

During the Songkran Holiday, I traveled to the island of Ko Chang with my fellow teachers Gabi, Tara, and Ali and Gabi's Swedish friend, Caroline. After riding buses for 6-7 hours, we spent the night in the coastal town of Trat before getting up at the asscrack of dawn to hop on a pickup truck and eventually onto the ferry/slow-moving barge that putters across the bay to Ko Chang.

Upon arrival, we got on another pickup truck and headed to our guesthouse. As it was only 8am and we didn’t get much sleep, the five of us were staring blankly across the truck at each other when a bucket of water cascaded into the back of Gabi’s head, causing her glasses to fly across the truck bed. The dripping, stunned, and evidently confused girl started screaming, “WHY CAN’T I SEE!!” Which was hilarious until I got nailed a little further down the road.

That night we went out and drank “buckets” with a reckless abandon that only a "water-spraying, pure-aggressiveness-hidden-by-a-contrived-smile" holiday could bring about.

BUCKETS: Cheap Thai Energy Drink + Cheap Thai Liquor + Children's Beach Equipment = Trouble

Buckets turn everyone into an asshole…although this particular guy appears to have a pre-existing asshole condition, however I wouldn't know as I failed to photograph our own buckets, so I stole this picture off Google Images.….sue me for defamation, bitch. Do it.

This is a picture of the sunset that night:

Later, I decided to go blackout swimming by myself and lost my shoes, shirt, and room key. After scouring the beach for my stuff, I gave up and returned to my hut where I had to drunkenly slither through the window. The next morning, I had to climb back through said window (with all of my shit) and leave the guesthouse because I didn’t want to pay the lost key charge (hey, they should have asked for a deposit, that’s just a bad business model.)

The "L and R" Problem

Oh the hilarity that is the infamous Asian “l and r” pronunciation problem. It’s really not that funny because I butcher every Thai word much worse (“tonal language”? What the fuck?), but with that said, I lied, it’s still hilarious. My favorite example of poor pronunciation has to be when discussing the continued problems Thailand has been having in their government and more specifically, their recently-resigned, semi-dictatorial president, Thaksin Shinawatra. He’s come under fire for selling Thailand’s largest cellular company to Singapore tax-free (saved about 800 mil on the deal – one reason why he’s the richest man in Thailand), censoring Thai TV by removing foreign news channels including the BBC and EuroNews (shockingly Fox News still remains as the channel has more important things to talk about like the perfect spot to lick W’s nuts), and for slaughtering a bunch of teenage Thai Muslim protestors (though to be fair, everyone can see the merit in a good slaughtering).

Anyhoo, Thaksin said that he would resign if he didn’t receive over 50% of the vote in an abrupt countrywide election….E-lec-tion. You can probably see where I’m going with this. So day in and day out, I’m hearing about “This morning’s erection”, “Yesterday’s much scrutinized erection”, “Last week’s hotly contested erection”, etc. Unfortunately, the erection business is old news now, so I’ve reverted back to teaching Thai students, coworkers, and friends phrases like, “You are a no-tarent ass-gobrin.”

Olympic Rant

Does anyone else find US Olympic athletes selfish? I want to work 2 hours a week at Home Depot and get paid like a full-time employee so I can luge down a big ice slide with my man-friend too. Ridiculous.

Oh, Google....

I love the fact that Google Ads has chosen a link to "Jennifer Love Hewitt Pics." Bring on the porn!!

EDIT: The "Jennifer Love Hewitt Pics" link has been replaced with "Gwen Stefani Ringtones", thus making me a pawn for the beast I hate. God, what is that smell? Oh right, it's irony.

Continuing the Shitty Celebrity Theme...

This was sent in by Scott Raker:

"While this isn't about Ashley Simpson or Gwen Stefani, what I found seems on topic. While reading a magazine midflight called The Week (mostly about politics and business mind you), I read this description of an incident involving Baby Luv, Paris Hilton's pet kinkajou:

"The South American animal, which is related to the racoon, recently injured Hilton by clawing her face during a lingerie shopping spree."

I don't think I've ever enjoyed reading anything as much as reading that sentence."


I'm not sure if this is the specific animal in question - mostly because I don't give a fuck.

Some Things That Need To Be Said

If you have read very many entries in this blog, you have probably noticed that I very rarely post about things outside of my immediate life. Unlike many others, my blog doesn't contain any commentary on current events or major news stories or pretty much anything outside of me looking like a jackass. However, at the risk of tarnishing my perfect record of pure self-promotion, I now feel the need to comment on a couple of things I've noticed recently. First off, I saw a commercial for an Ashlee Simpson album on TV. After quelling the urge to cut my head off, I collected myself and jotted down a few mental notes. The two featured ‘hits’ on the album are L.O.V.E and Boyfriend. While these titles sound absolutely atrocious, they are your standard over-the-top teenybopper fare. The component of the ad that nearly led me to self-decapitation was the album’s title itself: I Am Me. I Am Me?! What the crap? Are you serious? How dumb do these pop music marketers think kids are? I Am Me?! This reminds me of the Gwen Stefani ‘Bananas’ song in which she spends a solid thirty seconds spelling out the name of the fruit. Bananas? What? I think the pop industry is now playing a game with itself to see how shitty of a product they can make and still make tons of money of it. Honestly, fucking bananas? Have some goddamn respect for yourself. Well, I feel better.

Thanks to Gwen Stefani, I now hate these.

Fun with the Pakistani Outfit!

Islamic Chicken 'n Beer - don't forget to slaughter that bird halaal style!

Hitting the streets.

It's a Muslim Christmas! Yay!

Meeting the family: "Hey, look at the asshole that spent some time in a different culture and then came back wearing the traditional dress of said culture!"

'Stani Bike Pump - also great for rickshaws.

Prohibition? What?! Come on...

The Public Comments on the 2005 AFCC

David Eyerman (Prague, CZ): Ben wants to know "Where on Earth did you find that hideous wig Todd is wearing?" I want to know what porn film you were shooting before the picture was taken. Elly says "even the shadow has seeds of shadiness" as she admires Todd's chest hair. Happy Festivus.

Angela McCoy (Cedar Creek, NM): Kyle, I don't know you, but are you a registered sex offender? Editor's Note: Ouch.

Ron Gorman (Palo Alto, CA): Nice 'soul patch', Funboy.

Jeanine Phillips (Bellevue, WA): Your christmas card offended my immediate and extended family.

Jimmy Atkinson (New York, NY): 'Praha'? More like 'Nut-Wrangler.'

2005 Anderson Family Christmas Card

Grandma's Annual Surprise

Every year, the family gets together at my grandparents' house and is overwhelmed by some zany entertainment idea my Grandma has come up with to add a little spice to the holiday season. What was once “Sharing Time" - a game that involved each person of the family describing their favorite moment of the past year, something they hope to do next year, their biggest failure, etc. (which led to some younger persons hiding under the table/weeping and no, it wasn’t me) has now become a bit less intimate, but certainly no less awkward. Last year, my Grandma (G’Ma for short, it’s cool, she’s like that) rented a ‘Duck’ amphibious vehicle that can drive on a street, but can also be launched and used to slowly put-put around a body of water.

Photo Note: I do not know these people, though I wish I did as they look like they can rock the party till the morning light.

Todd and Kyle enjoying the "Duck Ride."

Todd and Kyle not enjoying the "Duck Ride." Mama Anderson looks on.

(Check out www.metroducks.com if you are interested in riding the yellow beast.)

This Year's Surprise

Obviously, G’Ma was forced to go to great lengths to out-do last year. She did. Never underestimate a whimsical elderly lady with too much time on her hands. On December 18th, 2005, G’Ma unleashed a holiday awkwardness Tour de Force that will take the family generations to recover from. The scene is difficult to explain, so I’ll take you through a timeline:

1:10 PM: A small gathering of family members arrive at the home.

1:15 PM: Relatives exchange pleasantries/comment on how bountiful Todd’s hair has gotten (don’t worry - I’ll hook up some pictures of that later.)

1:25 PM: Family members sit down and chat nervously, anxiously awaiting the “surprise.”

1:32 PM: Eight grizzled, rotund middle-aged men arrive at the house in full pirate regalia. Ruffled shirts, triangle hats, scabbards, eye patches – it’s legit.

1:33 PM: Family members are shocked. No one speaks. A young cousin hides in a coat closet.

1:34 PM: Kyle breaks the silence with, “Does anyone have a Capital One card?” (I really did – I was so proud of myself.)

1:35 PM: G’Ma introduces the pirates as the ‘Seafair Pirates’ (Seafair is an annual Seattle tradition….held in the summer).

1:36 PM: Pirates are as awkward as the Anderson/Meurk family, so they decide to sing a pirate song (it’s poorly written and uninspired).

1:38 PM: Song ends. Pirates ask Anderson/Meurk family to respond with a Christmas Carol.

1:39 PM: Anderson/Meurk family horribly butchers ‘Jingle Bells’ (like you know the 2nd verse…nobody does.)

1:40 PM: Pirates look unimpressed. One pirate (it could have been the 1st mate) asks if our family is Muslim (I’m not joking.) Kyle kicks himself for not wearing his Pathan outfit (see earlier in the blog).

1:41 – 2:30 PM: Awkwardness subsides a bit, but flares up occasionally when the pirates sing. Kyle continues to make bad jokes about pirates (jokes center on the fact that most pirates were gay) that everyone tries to ignore. Eventually the pirates leave and the family takes a collective sigh of relief.

2:41 PM: The young cousin leaves the coat closet. Looks disheveled.

Pirates Vs. The Fam

Unfortunately, G'Ma is the only person who has pictures of the incident at this time. However, I made a diagram to give you a better idea of what the scene looked like:

Nostalgia Report: My 21st Birthday

February 18th, 2004
As I come closer to my 23rd birthday, I decided to recapture the magic of my 21st by perusing the photos taken on that important, character building night. The fam and I started off at Red Robin where some gimmicky oversized beers were consumed. After dinner, we went to the "Comedy Underground" to see some stand-up comedy, but were told that the show had been cancelled. The decision on where to continue my night of birthday glee is one that would change my life forever. We drove a couple blocks down from the comedy club and found a bar/nightclub called "Cowgirls Inc." After a vague, but heart-felt recommendation from Ansley, we went in. The club is modeled after the "Coyote Ugly" style - girls in chaps, dancing on the bar, guys yelling and being yelled at by the overly energetic, quasi-Western, and fully-domineering all-female bar staff. What I discovered later was that my parents spoke with a "Cowgirl" and mentioned that it was my 21st birthday and implied that I should get some "special attention." Evidently, the birthday celebration routine at this particular establishment consists of busting out a large, black leather whip and striking the birthday victim repeatedly on the ass while the crowd roars and makes comments about said victim's youthful appearance, level of masculinity, testicle size, etc. Personally, I'm not aroused by being whipped by a hot chick - I don't know, it's just not my style, so I had no problem dealing with any possible erotic notions of the experience and instead was fully able to soak up every ounce of the humiliation set out before me...or behind me, again and again. To keep some level of self-respect, I made comments like, "Is my grandmother whipping me?" and "Did a fly just land on my ass?" A highlight of the beating was the grizzled-looking fellow standing at the edge of the bar in a Dale Earnhardt "The Intimidator" jacket yelling that he should get spanked instead of me. I was trying to agree, but the saucy, whip-wielding harlot paid no attention. All in all, it was a solid 21st.

This is the guy in "The Intimidator" jacket that kept asking to be spanked.

Anderson Family Christmas Card

As the holidays weasel into our lives for yet another year, it is now that time to create the annual Anderson Family Christmas Card. Before unveiling this year's model, I thought I should revisit years past to fully explain the epic saga that is the AFCC. Plus, I don't feel too bad about public embarassing my family by publishing these cards because I already threw my brother under the bus with the whole "turtle neocortex/really tight shorts" thing a couple of months ago. Here we go:

I've outlined a grading rubric that I will be using to assess previous AFCCs. I will be grading the 2002, 2003, 2004, as well as the 2005 when it is released (ETA is Dec. 20, but so far, no one is motivated).

GRADING SCALE
1) Cheesiness Factor: By far the most important quality. Many potential Anderson Family Christmas Cards come across my desk, but if they lack the integral “so lame it’s funny” quality, they are quickly discarded. After viewing the card, I want distant friends and relatives to immediately announce, “This has got to be the dorkiest family in all the land.”

2) Holiday Spirit: A good AFCC must spread holiday cheer and joy to the world. This is not a wish, but a must.

3) Creativity: The backbone of the operation. Without a splash of originality, the AFCC becomes yet another average, unenthusiastic, “We’re too old to be doing this”, “Please someone change American Holiday culture so we don’t have to spend $200 at Kinko’s every year” Christmas card that clogs up your mailbox every year.

4) Degree of Difficulty: Any trained monkey can snap off a decent Christmas card photo, it’s the refusal to be 2nd best that makes a truly impressive expression of a family’s holiday passion…even if the family doesn’t really have any. However, creating a brilliant ruse is a major part of the Degree of Difficulty.

2002 AFCC

Let’s begin with 2002. This was the 2nd AFCC after the artistic revolution that occurred following a disastrous 2000 campaign. I couldn’t find the 2001 card, so this will have to be your first taste of the Anderson magic. Here we go:

1) Cheesiness Factor: 9.8
a. An incredibly cheesy card. “Hoppy Holidays” may be the lamest pun ever constructed to evoke celebratory cheer. Papa Anderson’s double leg tuck also helped this score.

2) Holiday Spirit: 7.1
a. A difficult venue to exude holiday spirit. The photo was taken at Joshua Tree in California – not exactly the snowy locale one associates with the holiday season. However with some snappy wordplay and a little imagination, the card becomes a wholesome way to ring in the New Year.

3) Creativity: 9.9
a. The originality of the card speaks for itself. Show me a similar Christmas Card. Show me. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

4) Degree of Difficulty: 9.8
a. Timing all four family members’ jumps was quite complicated. Throw in spiny Joshua Tree thorns and you have one difficult AFCC.

Total: 9.15

2003 AFCC

Ah, 2003. A year of hopes and dreams, but ultimately a disappointing card. Todd just sent me the picture, so it's now available for your viewing pleasure (thanks broseph).

1) Cheesiness Factor: 9.5
a. An undoubtedly cheesy card. The physical representation of a family genealogy is an interesting, albeit somewhat trite idea. However, the pun still stands. Another obvious strength is Todd’s illustrious haircut.

2) Holiday Spirit: 6.0
a. Another difficult location to elicit holiday cheer. Also the card promotes a “Happy New Year” but fails to mention a “Happy Holidays” or “Terrific Holiday Season” or “Fantabulous Christmukkah!” The explanation for this obvious gaffe is that the AFCC was delayed in 2003 and arrived post-Christmas/Hanukkah. Punctuality has never been an AFCC strength, however points had to be deducted.

3) Creativity: 9.2
a. As previously discussed, the tree metaphor is impressive, but possibly overused. Problems could arise if readers felt the subject of the card was the tree itself, and not the symbol that was intended. Viewers could have believed this tree is in fact the Anderson Family Tree and that the Anderson Family assumes other families have appointed Family Trees as well. Luckily, we didn’t send the card to any of these people.

4) Degree of Difficulty: 9.1
a. Positioning ourselves on the tree and the subsequent complexities associated with the camera angles (no AFCC has ever been captured by a member outside of the family, all camera work is done using a timer) increased the difficulty of the shot. Kyle also struggled to climb the tree due to a bad hip – note his pained expression. I don't even want to get into what the fuck Todd's face looks like. But I will say this: disgraceful.

Total: 8.45

2004 AFCC

This year it was time to learn from the mistakes of previous years and create the greatest AFCC of all time.

1) Cheesiness Factor: 9.9
a. Incredible. The Dear/Deer wordplay is immense in its blatancy. The many different shadows exist on the faces of Anderson Family members continues the lack of subtlety theme. Are there four different suns in this picture? No my friend, that is the beauty of Photoshop. Get to know him.

2) Holiday Spirit: 9.8
a. It took two years, but damn it, the Anderson Family finally learned how to spread holiday cheer. The forest of Christmas trees, Santa hat-clad deer, and traditional Christmas color scheme makes this AFCC the most Holidarrific yet.

3) Creativity: 9.3
a. Bringing in the New Zealand Red-Tailed deer was a bold stroke of ingenuity. Papa Anderson’s hesitant, possible sign of constipation countenance was not.

4) Degree of Difficulty: 9.8
a. Financial negotiations with the deer were not only time-consuming, but emotionally-taxing. After a resolution was reached, a more than fair one in my opinion, Mr. Johnson (known as “Porky” to family and friends, but certainly not to us) agreed to pose with the hat.

Total: 9.7

The Art of Handing Shit Out

For the last month or so, I have been working Public Relations for a bar/nightclub called Wig Wam in Glasgow. Public Relations (PR or PRing if you prefer) is a classy sounding way of describing handing out shit to people - usually heavily intoxicated, bitter, cold people. As I also partook in this interesting and exciting employment opportunity over the summer in Seattle, I now see myself as somewhat of an authority on the matter. When you need to learn about handing shit out to people, I'm your man. I've noticed some differences between PRing (handing shit out) in America and Scotland. First of all, the Scots are generally more receptive and courteous about the shit that is being handed to them than the Americans. Then again, I too would rather receive free passes to a dance club than whiny political flyers about a transportation issue that, frankly speaking, no one gives a fuckstick about (actually it was a crucial decision to rebuild archaic highway overpasses that would crumble like a saltine in an earthquake...or so they say). So in Glasgow, you get the drunken, excited "Thanks for the free passes, man!" response intermittently throughout the norm of disinterest and "Fuck offs", whereas in America, it's just disinterest and "Fuck offs." One similarity between the countries in which I have handed shit out in, is that when one person doesn't take the shit being handed to them, other people will see this little failed shit transaction and refuse to take the shit themselves. If someone sees a fellow potential shit-acceptor deny the shit, they will become suspicious of the shit, and decide that the shit could be dangerous and not to be trusted. So what once was an intriguing, laminated surprise is now a moldy piece of fecal matter that some sketchy ass-goblin is trying to peddle to the masses. I've also noticed that the populace uses a vast array of facial expressions when reacting to shit being handed to them. I will try to recreate some of these countenances, so you can place yourselves in my shoes knowing that you, and the shit you are handing out, is what causes these bizarre brow ruffles, nose scrunches, and lip contortions. Here we go:

Suspicious.

Disgusted.

Frightened.

More Frightened.

Most Frightened.

Pure Disinterest.

Feigned Enthusiasm.

The "I Wish I Could Help You Out" Face.

The "Angry Old Man" Face.

Dilk Storms Glasgow

My friend, Dilk, visited me in Glasgow. We were pretending to be incredibly excited to see Zoe. We weren't.

Wow, look at those cheekbones. This diet of nothing and lots of heroin has really paid off!

In Glasgow, Bad Bar Puns Come In Pairs

Sir Robert Poor Word Choices

(Click on picture)
Do ya...do ya get it? Someone needed to proof read that. Nice one, Scotland. Anyway, he has huge, bronze testicles.

The Anarchist Ghost

My flatmates and I (well Zoe's flatmates, I just pretend I'm still in college and don't pay) returned home a couple nights ago to find a pentagram crafted from salt and flower buds on our kitchen floor. I'm not sure if someone was "sending a message" or playing a joke, but in any case, they are dorks.

Luckily we have our own dork, Sherlock Holmes, to photo-document it.

A Glimpse Into the World of My Brother

I received this email from my brother yesterday:

"I met this other guy, though, who is business-type dude who now wants to model the neocortex - at first I was like, "get in line, buddy", but he wants to do it in a new way, by examining turtle cortex (turtles apparently have the simplest cortical structure - only three layers, compared to 6 in all mammals). Plus, he is self-funded through his businesses, and might be able to provide for me as well (finally, my sugar daddy has materialized!). Oh, and the best part is that he wants to build a robot turtle with physiologically accurate brain - please excuse me while I throw on a fresh pair of undies."

How many other people in this world (or throughout history for that matter) ejaculate into their shorts at the thought of building a robot turtle with a physiologically accurate brain? My guess is 4. That crazy bastard cracks me up...then again, I accost plastic hippos in parks...

Zoe as a Track Suit Grandma

My New Favorite Quote

"I love my jewelry. But I love my job. I love playing basketball more than I love getting fined and getting suspended."
-Stephen Jackson, Guard, Indiana Pacers

He loves getting fined and suspended, but he loves playing basketball even more. Ha ha, what a dumbfuck.

The Brothers Lightness

This is when Todd came to visit me in Prague. Look at that gorgeous coif of hair.

Pimpin' Deep in the Pak

This was my sweet pathan outfit. I wore it in hopes that people would think I was a light-skinned Afghani from up north and wouldn't shoot me in the face. I don't want to brag guys, but it worked. The cane has a silver cobrahead on it and unscrews into a 12-inch blade. It is now the property of Todd Anderson. I didn't tell him about the latter part in hopes that he might have a little "fun" at customs while taking it back to the US.

Lalazar Plateau

This is another picture of Pakistan. We drove up to this plateau (10,000 ft. or so) in a tiny little jeep on a tiny little dirt path with a massive clift on our right side. Every now and again, another jeep would be coming down the mountain and we would have to drive up the side of the clift to let it get past. When asked if jeeps ever fell off the mountain, our driver said, "Yes." When asked what happened to the people inside them, our driver said, "They die." When asked how he deals with this fact while driving up the mountain everday, our driver said, "It's up to Allah." When asked what I thought about this, I cried like a little girl.

Pakiland

This is the lady and I in Pakistan. I had just finished being ravaged by some form of Pakistani Mountain bacteria that ripped through me like an unstoppable rebel force...and I hadn't showered for like 4 days, so all in all, I feel pretty good about the picture. Unfortunately, this area was hit pretty hard by the earthquake.

DR

This is a picture of me climbing a palm tree in the Dominican Republic. The only reason I included it is because I think it makes me look dope, and I need that for my self-esteem. I was actually climbing down at the time, so really I was a lot higher...yea, that was for my self-esteem too.

RAW

Evidentily "Steak" in Prague is a wee bit different. Yea, that's a bunch of raw meat with a raw egg on top. Enjoy it, Dave, enjoy it. I was lucky enough to order a sandwhich with raw bacon on it, so Dave's not the only one that got screwed by the brilliant Czech idea of saving time in meat preparation.

These are two guys I met in Prague. Everything was cool until they peed on my shoes.

Line Behavior in Pakistan

People stand in lines very similarly to how they drive; constantly edging forward, bunching right into each other, cutting one another off, etc. It gets pretty hectic. I was in the airport terminal waiting at a ticket counter and giving the guy ahead of me a good 3-3.5 foot grace period between myself and him. After a couple minutes I start hearing the man behind me do this strange under-his-breath, quasi scoffing/grumbling thing. I just assume that he was having a mild heart attack or something, so I don’t bother to turn around. The snorting/fake cough noise gets a little louder though and finally he says to me in this sleazy broken English accent, “Excuse me” and kind of motions to the space between myself and the co-flyer ahead of me. So I try to be polite and scoot up a little bit, dragging all my shit and whatnot until I’m a solid 6 to 9 inches behind the guy. Evidently this doesn’t satisfy the extremely close line waiter behind me as he begins to froth hot breath all over the back of my neck while starting up his series of guttural mumbles again. When his suitcase poked me in the back of my leg I realized that this gentleman would not be satisfied until my Naughtyland was ankle-deep in the guy ahead of me’s assmeat. This was a “situation.” I was beginning to worry that guys like this worked in pairs: trapping young foreigners in tightly compacted lines until they got their jollies off in some sort of frotteuristic fashion. But more importantly, I escaped without penetration.

Kyle made a friend in the pool.