EURO TRIP - Germany Part 1

We traveled north to Frankfurt where we met my sister Kristy and her new fiaaaaanceee Brett.  They just got engaged a few days before near Paris so some celebrating was in order.  We met up with them at the train station and hopped on another train which took us to our motorhome rental.  Once we got to the rental depot we were greeted by Klaus ( a condescending asshole) who told us we were required to watch a 30 minute video before we could take the motorhome.  This video left us with a few questions.. most importantly, HOW do you empty the shit tank?

Here in Canada we empty our shit tanks in the most human way possible.  This usually involves a hose and a lever so you're never having to see whats been building up in your tank over your lovely holiday.  Also they are quite large and can hold a substantial amount of human waste.   In most ways Europeans are a step ahead of us.  They don't have homeless people begging on every street corner, they're all bilingual, they have free university and they have the best public transit systems around.  So WHY are these clearly smarter, more educated people creating motorhomes with thimble sized shit tanks that have to be manually dumped!?

After a short argument with Klaus, that German prick, we hit the open road.  First things first, we knew we had to sort out some kind of schedule for who would be dumping that mini shit tank.  It was clear it was going have to be done several times over the next week.  There was no time for games of fortune and chance so to start it off we decided first one to use the bathroom had to empty it.  This was actually Kristy's idea and quite genius.  She informed me that Brett has a woman sized bladder and would most definitely crack first.  Just to be safe I cautiously sipped my Heineken until Brett like a 5 year old girl, just couldn't hold it any longer.  I guess the overall excitement had clouded Brett's judgement because Kristy and I can both drink a 6 pack of beer before going pee once.  Plus our competitive spirit probably would have had us puking up our pee before losing at a game like that.  Anyways, we'll revisit this topic later when Brett had to revisit our excrement somewhere between Stuttgart and Freiburg.

First stop, Stuttgart.  It was our first night in Germany and we wanted to land somewhere fun for the evening.  Of course the traffic through Frankfurt was bad and the drive to Stuttgart was longer than we had hoped.  Our GPS, Rosa, took us directly to the city center.  We learned a valuable lesson that night, you can take an eight foot high motor home just anywhere.  We planned to find a parking lot and then hit the town of course all the parking in the middle of a city is underground and there are height limits for that.  After a few arguments we found ourselves in the train station parking lot.  This was our first night of urban camping.  Before long we were enjoying some schnitzel and drinks.  On our way back we tried to find a liquor store or a bar which of course was impossible.  Luckily we had all hit the duty free pretty hard on our travels into Europe so the motor home was fully stocked.  After some night caps the lulling sound of the train station put us all to sleep.  It turned out the urban camping had it's bonuses, coffee and pastries just steps away inside the train station!  After a wholesome breakfast we were back on the road and this time we planned to make it to a real campsite.

We drove to Freisburg on day two but not before Brett became better acquainted with the dumping of the shit tank.  I've actually attached a few pictures so you can get a real idea of the kind of joy we felt watching Brett dump out our shit while blowing chunks.  This was also when we realized we forgot to put the little blue puck the kills the smell in the tank before hand... oops!

Great times... Once Brett recovered made the short drive into Freiburg.  This was such a cool town and Rosa led us to a great campsite.  We settled in to our campsite and started to enjoy some beverages.  This is when the first game of fortune and chance took place.  Loser dumps the next full tank.  Brett of course thought he was exempt from even playing but after a quick vote it was decided he was fully eligible.  You can probably guess what happened next.. Brett's demise. When you go into a game with that much fear you don't stand a chance.  The rest of us were on top of the world after our win and took celebratory dumps in the bathroom while Brett cried outside. Kidding, sort of.

We went out that night for some drinks and long story short the loss got the best of old Brett.  I wont go into details but he was a complete moron that night.  I'm still surprised we made it out of that town with Brett at all.  It seems like he has some kind of homing device.  Somehow he always made it back to the motor home, no matter how hard we try to lose him.  After a morning of shame and sassafras (Brett's bitchy alter ego) we were on our way to another extremely cheap and delicious bakery for snacks then back on the road.   Next stop was Interlaken, Switzerland...

EURO TRIP - France & Austria

After a week in Italy Carey and I were heading to the South of France. The drive alone made the 4 hour detour worth it.  No wonder there's a toll every hour, how else are they ever going to pay for the 10,000 tunnels that make up the hwy from Italy to France?  Of course when we first started going through the tunnels I did what any mature adult would do, hold my breath.  Carey got a kick out of this because some of the tunnels ended up being ridiculously long and watching me starve for oxygen really seemed to make his day.  After about 40 minutes of huge tunnels with very small gaps in between and no end in sight I started to feel pretty light headed and had to call it a day on the breath holding.  I've got to hold on to the precious brain cells I've got left.

When I was imagining the South of France I had pictured us lounging on the beach, working on our tans with a bunch of topless ladies with hairy pits.  Surprisingly enough that's not at all how our 3 days there went.  We were staying in a small town just outside of Cannes called La Napoule and a seriously awesome hotel called Corniche d'Or for about 50 euro a night.  This got us a room with a balcony (about 3' by 6') which had a view of the town courtyard just a few steps away from the most amazing grocery store and bakery known to man.  We did spend one day at the beach, which was absolutely beautiful.  The bulk of our time was spent people watching from the balcony and of course me kicking Carey's ass at every dice/card game possible while eating countless baguettes. 

One day after stocking up at the market across the street with a few liters of wine (which is very cheap but substantially less drinkable than cheap Italian wine) a problem arose.  Long story short I had somehow dropped both of our pens down into the much larger unused patio below. I was feeling pretty good at this point, a little tipsy and still kicking ASS at dice.  I had to get those pens back asap.  We had noticed earlier that other guests from the hotel hung up their room keys as they left on a hook at the front.  Being suspicious distrusting Canadians we never did this.  How perfect for this situation though! I would just cruise down and grab the room key for the room below us.

 When I got to the lobby area there was only one man there t checking out the brochures, so I felt pretty safe snatching the key and running back up the stairs.  Thinking back this probably looked extremely conspicuous.  I climbed three flights of stairs to the door of room 7 and knocked on it a few times waiting about 2 seconds before letting myself in calling out "house keeeeepinnnggg" just to be safe lol.  Once I was in I saw that someone was in fact staying in the room but luckily was not home.  I then clued into the fact that I was really breaking into some guys room and started to PANIC.  What if he caught me in here? What would I say? I don't even speak french.  Great now I'm going to be raped, beat up and thrown in jail all over a couple fricken pens. I ran over to the patio doors, yes there are 2 fully separate locked french doors between me and the patio.  There's no real way of getting through them fast or quietly because they are both probably 50 years old.  When I finally got onto the patio I grabbed the pens and looked up only to see Carey pointing at me and laughing like a hyena.  Maybe next to him I could be inconspicuous? In this moment next to him I look like a god damn ninja.

I closed and locked the 2 french doors and front and lightning speed desperate to get out of this situation unscathed.  I felt instant relief once I was back out into the hallway.  Now all I had to do was return the key to the hook.  I ran down the two flights of stairs into the lobby to see the man who was looking at brochures earlier sitting behind the desk on the computer.  Turns out he was the owner, great.  As I was making my way to the key hooks when I noticed a man coming in the front door.  This distracted the owner at the just right time and I replaced the key to the room 7 hook, turned and ran up the first flight of stairs.  I couldn't help myself and I turned back from the top of the first flight to see which key the man was going for.   Of course he's reaching for the only key that's swinging back and forth, room 7.  He turned and looked at me while trying to process the situation.  I did what anyone would have done, sprint back into my room, shut the door and double locked it.

When I got back onto the patio I started to tell Carey the turn of events which almost lead to my capture.  Had I been 30 seconds later I would have been caught red handed with a key that was not mine or worse, in his room! It's then that I hear the patio doors below us open.  The man comes out onto the patio and looks directly up at us.  I smile and wave, giving my most Canadian "Bonjour!"  I was obviously shitting my pants on the inside.  He had clearly realized I broke into his room but could see that nothing was missing so didn't have grounds to say anything about it. Yep, I totally got away with it.  

We celebrated that evening by heading out to an Irish bar.  Quite random but I guess you can find an Irish bar pretty much anywhere.  Met a strange dutch man and proceeded to booze heavily with him for the rest of the evening.  Overall it's a bit blurry but I do remember one shot he bought for us which changed my world, tequila, sambuca and espresso.   Seriously the most revolting thing to hit my lips since the raw hamburger I accidentally ordered the night before.  

Waking up the next morning it was all I could think about.  Why is it that when your extremely hung-over your mind keeps taking you to the WORST drink you had of the whole night before?  It's like having a bad song stuck in your head, but much worse.  I don't usually suffer from hangovers that aren't cured by a double cheeseburger, this morning was an exception.  Of course this is the day we have to make the 4 hour trip back to Italy and drop our rental car off in Milan.  Actually I think the only time I get THIS hangover is when I have some impossibly long painful thing I must do the next day.  Carey of course was totally fine and not feeling nearly as sorry for me as I am feeling for myself.  After a couple pukes which resembled slug slime and black liquorice we were ready to go.  I forced down a croissant and settled in for ride.  It was sad to leave France.  I was leading the winner’s board by a cool 10 games. Who knows if I'll ever find another place where I'm actually luckier than Carey? Goodbye France.

We had booked a hotel in Milan for 1 night and were heading out on a 6am train to Innsbruck, Austria. We made it to drop off our car with literally 3 minutes to spare before they closed.  Somehow close calls seemed to be a reoccurring theme on this trip of leisure.  Anyways, Milan was sort of like an Italian Vancouver but less beautiful.  Seriously, it’s not that special and hardly worth staying in for more than a few hours.  Our hotel was extra ghetto but at least it was walking distance to the train station out of there.  

In the morning we hopped on the train, my first ever train ride actually.  Europeans got this right; trains are the way to travel.  After a scenic trip 6 hour ride we had arrived in Innsbruck.  This place is a MUST SEE.  The buildings are all pastel colors that reminded me of easter eggs.  The town is in a valley between a few massive snowy mountains.  Sadly we only had 1 day there.  We made the best of it and cruised around town for the afternoon and ending up in some sort of farmers market for a few steins of beer.  One of the BEST things about Europe as a whole is that you can get a beer ANYWHERE you want.  No one is judging you for cracking a beer at any point of the day.  As we sat in this market and got a little drunk I remember thinking, does life get ANY better than this?!   Well, turns out it does. We picked up our motor home rental the next day......

Euro-Trip - ITALY

Yes I'm still alive.  After 4 unbelievably glorious weeks in Europe I'm back.  Do I feel horribly depressed and shocked at how awful reality is? Absolutely.

There really is something to be said about having something, ANYTHING to look forward to.  In most cases the buildup is half of the excitement. Just waiting and planning, counting the days.  That was just not the reality of our Europe vacation.  I think it's the kind of place that deep down inside you don't fully believe exists until your standing there seeing it with your own eyes.  Somehow it was better than I imagined.  It's hard to give a highlight reel because everywhere we went was in some way the coolest place I had ever been.  I hate to think my life has peaked at the age of 24 but it's hard to believe I'll ever do anything that awesome again.  Just being realistic (and if you saw the debt we put ourselves into after 1 short month you would likely agree).  I've decided to write this in chronological order and split it between a few posts, hope you enjoy the highlights and lowlights and the useless information in between.

ITALY - The country of smells.

After 3 flights and 17 hours and not a wink of sleep we arrived in Naples.  We grabbed our rental car (that was approximately twice the size of my big toe) loaded up and headed south for Sorrento.  Our initial thought once we got on the highway was that we were in fact in a much muggier version of Mexico. Thank god we got our GPS working and got the hell outta there.  The scenery picked up immensely once we got further down the coast line and Sorrento was a perfect first stop on our 10 day adventure in Italy. The next 2 days were spent cruising the Almafi Coast, all the while risking our lives every time we got back behind the wheel. Italy by far has the largest population of horrible drivers per capita.  After several delicious bruschetta’s and a couple 2 euro bottles of wine we were on way up to Rome.

It was days like this we were really praising Rosa (our GPS).  She got us through some tough times and I really think without her we would have been filing for divorce right now.  Once we checked in and carried our bags up 10 flights of stairs (which was pretty standard fair for everyday in Italy) we were on a sweaty bus into the city center.  I decided the people who gave me average reviews of Rome are likely retarded and I made a mental note to not believe a word out of their mouths from that day on.  Rome is a MUST SEE, even if you’re seeing it through a thick layer of sweat in 35 degree weather.  We hit lots of the main tourist attractions but honestly just cruising the streets was the highlight in my opinion.  Well that and the unbelievable dinner we had that evening followed up with about 4 liters of wine.

For a non-god loving sinner like me it was hard to believe how glorious the Vatican would really be until I saw it with my own eyes.  I really didn't think it would be something I was that interested in, more of a check on the list of Europe to do's. Being only 4 or 5 days into our trip we were still suffering the effects of jet leg (that and passing out at 9pm after 4 liters of wine) and were up at the crack of dawn.  After a quick cappuccino and croissant we were headed into St. Peters Square before 8am.  Would have had the same effect on me had it been noon, 35 degrees and filled with people? I honestly doubt it.  The sun was just coming up, there was next to no one in the square when we arrived and it was honestly breathtaking.  That is not a word I use lightly but seriously, breathtaking. We cruised through the empty line up ropes (which always makes me feel like I'm getting some sort of ripping deal, even if entry is free) and through the first security check.  By this point we're practically running were so excited to get the inside of the basilica (or as I would say, church) which by now is glowing and making me think it might be time to turn over a new leaf and let the sweet lord into my life.  Only one more check point to get through when all of a sudden I hear an Italian man screaming something.  I' had decided days ago that Italians are extremely bad loud talkers and this guy is no exception. That's when I feel a tap on my bare shoulder.   Before I know it I'm being turned around and told to kick rocks as my thoughts of godly worship dissolve.  

Well, turns out they don't let floozy, dress wearing hooligans into the Vatican.  I admit my t-shirt length flesh colored spaghetti strapped dress may not have been pope appropriate but that wasn't what I was thinking when I got dressed that morning.  I was clearly thinking about how many liters of sweat I would be producing after another 30+ degree day in Italy.  You can't tell me god would want to me sweat any more than I have to?!  At this point I was starting to feeling like the lord was truly laying hit wrath upon me.  This is probably thanks to me bad mouthing him in a previous blog.

At this point I was feeling pretty awful because now I was holding Carey back from seeing all the glory inside the glowing building.  Also I was just plain annoyed with the situation and feeling like a prostitute. With few options we started walking aimlessly back into the square when I had an idea.  I remembered seeing a gift stand at the far side of the square and I figured they would have a t-shirt.  Instantly I began dreaming about slipping into an oversized t-shirt with the popes face on it or better yet, a picture of Jesus being crucified. Unfortunately (and surprisingly) they didn't have either, but they had whore scarfs. This is clearly a niche market in St. Peter's Square.  4 euro and my problems were solved.

By the time we get back to the last check point I feel like pull a Deena style jersey turnpike on the fool that turned me away 20 minutes before but I figured I shouldn't push my luck.  We finally get in; I was totally feeling like I had pulled a fast one on Catholics everywhere.  Now I don't want to drag my whorness through the mud much longer but I can't leave this part out.  After seeing the basilica I pull out my handy Europe guidebook and find that we can take an elevator to the top of the cupola (the highest point in the Vatican City).  Who wouldn't want to do that? After some confusion we find the entrance to where the tickets are sold for the elevator.  I strut directly past the guy manning the door with my silk scarf tied tightly around my shoulders.  Again with the yelling Italian.. what I make out from his actions are that my dress is in fact too short.  REALLY!? Little does he know I've out smarted one skinny, hairy, annoying Italian today and have no plans to let him ruin my fun.  We are escorted back outside and I began scheming up a new plan.  

Only one thing we can do now, make a run for it.  Just kidding, that would never work.  I adjusted my scarf and took off the straps of my dress so I can pull it down to knee length.  I still don't understand how wearing a scarf for a shirt is more respectable than my dress but they're a lot of things about churches I don't think I'll ever comprehend.  I knew we only had one more shot to get by this guy before he had us booted out for good.  I waiting for the next group of people going in and I pushed my way in the middle of the crowd (if you can call 3 people a crowd?).  Of course Carey of course was able to walk right in, still feeling like a rebel no less.  We made it up to the cupola which turned out to be a short elevator ride and 312 winding stairs.  Yes, 312 stairs. THANK GOD I wasn't wearing more clothes!  All in all a very successful trip to the beautiful Vatican City, all done before 9:30am.

Soon we were back on the road and heading north to Florence. This will very likely make you think less of me but I was pretty stoked to be in the very same city where Jersey Shore season 4 was filmed just months before!! lol, but seriously, I was excited.  Florence did not disappoint.  We didn't have any specific attractions we wanted to see which made it pretty a leisure 2 days.  Spent hours wandering through the streets, ate a couple pizzas, and drank a few dozen Heineken. Florence was good to us and like every place before very easy on the eyes.

I think calling Italy the country of smells is a little unfair.  Really it’s Europe as a whole that is the continent of smells.  Florence was no exception; actually I think this is where we really came to a head with the smell factor.  The sewers run under the streets and with the buildings all being a few stories high and so close together there really isn’t a lot of fresh air being brought into circulation.   One minute you’re sucking in a huge whiff of delightful Italian food and the next you smell Italian food that has been digested, shit out and is stewing in the ground just a few feet below.   I think it kind of keeps things even though, no country that is that gorgeous should smell like roses.

Overall Italy was good to us.  Great food, so much history and even better looking than I could have imagined.   The only thing that really holding it back is…. The Italians.  HAHA kidding, sort of.  More euro-trip coming soon!

Martini's, Mangina's & Marriage!

Well I must apologize to my 3 or 4 followers for dropping off the map for the past month.  I'm going to get back at it with something easy.  This blog will be unusually positive and inoffensive, for that I apologize.  Don't worry  the bitterness in me will build back up and I'm sure my next entry will be overflowing with my regular cynical attitude.  For now I'm just a bit too on top of the world to drag up negativity.. WHY? On July 23 Carey and I got married.. it's official.  I've locked him down and there is no way he can legally get rid of my sorry ass now without my say so, FEELS GREAT! 

It all started last September when Carey asked me to marry him.  It was so sweet and perfect and I think this is when the wheels started turning.  I wouldn't say I was the kind of kid that always dreamed of what my wedding day would be like.  Honestly I was the kind of kid who always thought I would die tragically before anything that good would happen to me. Of course I don't like to do things half way and once I started scoping out some wedding blogs my tiny idea turned into about 1000 tiny ideas.  All of these ideas came at a cost so instead of forking out the cash I took the do it yourself route.  This turned into a couple hundred hours of my precious time but the outcome was more than what I hoped for.   Here are some of the fruits of my labour:

 

It's funny when people find out you're getting married they all have something to say whether it's a piece of advice, an idea or a wedding horror story.  I can't tell you how many times I had to listen to advice I didn't give a shit about but forced a smile, nodded and acted like I was really soaking it all up.  I heard several times that your own wedding is never as fun as being a guest at a friend's wedding, which I really came to believe.  I thought I would be looking around and subconsciously noting every detail that did not turn out the way I had imagined. I also thought it would be a world of awkward having that many people watching you.  Whether you're eating, adjusting your boobs (or in my case padding), chugging your drink, there are eyes on you. I think I was mentally trying to paint a realistic version of how the day was going to go so I was prepared and not let down.  Well I've got to say NONE of that bothered me on our wedding day.  Honestly I was on cloud 9.  I had way more fun at my wedding then I ever have at any other wedding to date.  It couldn't have gone any better and for me to be unable to pick out any flaws is not only shocking but unprecedented.

I feel like several different factors played in to glorious day.  Most importantly having everyone I love most in the world all together to celebrate.  With that crowd of people a bad time just wasn't in the cards.  We really have the most unreal group of friends and family.   The speeches were the balls, the highlight of the evening.   My sister Kristy and her boyfriend Brett (maid of honor and best man) clearly had taken the past 10 months to put those together because they didn't miss a beat.  We were so honored (and mildly offended) hearing them. To top it off they also had a surprise slide show for after dinner which was heartwarming and mortifying all at the same time.  It was then I realized my awkward stage really was from age 6-20.

Other contribution factors into this day of perfection were the candy apple martinis, delicious food and the photobooth that was set up by one of my bridesmaids Danica.  Michelle, my awesome photographer friend manned it for the evening and we ended up with a lot of hilarious shots. Of course you need the BEST playlist to get everyone on board for a late night.  This consisted of a lot of golden hits and of course the countless country songs (seriously I don't care who you are, I know you secretly enjoy country music after you've had 5 martinis).  Here's a couple songs from the ceremony playlist that I'm still obsessed with:

My advice to anyone planning a wedding is to just do everything your way.  Everyone has their own options and ideas of how a wedding should be but it's really just all about what you want.  It's one of the only times in life where you can just shut down people's ideas down without thinking twice.  Seriously my version of heaven is just having everything done my way.  Everyone asking how YOU want it set up and the most strenuous thing you have to do it point and delegate.  If only everyday was like that lol.

I guess in closing I should say that the set up, stress over decorations, food and booze is all pretty irrelevant in the end.  In the months up to the wedding it's easy to just focus on the party side of things and forget why it is you're planning this big party in the first place.  For us getting married has just built on the relationship we've always had.  Carey is my best friend in the world so marrying him was easy.  The day was perfect because we are just truly happy to be together and commit to spending the rest of our lives with each other. Oh and the cards filled with cold hard cash made that commitment even easier... Europe here we come!

Deadbeat Status

I have a lot of traits I would not brag about.  I'm a total pig and pretty much only clean my house when I have people coming over. I run around like a psycho hiding clutter and filth so no one will know how I normally live.  I won't even touch on the on-going health hazard in my car.  I judge people relentlessly.  Mostly (but not limited to) people I don't know.  I see an XXL person wolfing down a case of donuts, I'm honestly repulsed.  I notice if you haven't brushed your teeth today.  I catch that tiny speech impediment you have, then I probably use it while impersonating you. I'm not proud of these traits.  What I am proud of is that I'm the kind of person that does what I say I'm going to do.  That being said and the fact that I also have a job means that I do not qualify for deadbeat status.  Wondering if you're a true deadbeat?

A DEADBEAT is a person who:

-Evades their basic responsibilities

-Says they will do something, but then they just don't with little or no explanation

-Doesn't have a legitimate job and has likely collected EI at some point

-RSVP's yes to a party but doesn't show

-Doesn't have a license

-Owes you money, but hopes you will forget

-Doesn't reply to texts

If you can personally relate to any of those points, you're probably a deadbeat.  I don't know when the switch was flipped for me but it seems like recently my tolerance for people like this has just ran out.  I see no reason to say you're going to do something, then not do it.  If you're not planning to follow through then be an adult and say that from the start.  Even stating you may not be able to follow through from the beginning is more respectable than blatantly lying to others and probably yourself about your actual intent.

This may seem insignificant to someone who has never planned any sort of party or event but I can't think of anything that has higher deadbeat status than a last minute bail.  Worse than that, a bail out without so much as a lame excuse via text message.  There are obviously situations where you can legitimately pull a no-show without actual offensive being taken or hearts being broken.  If someone is having a raging party, it's likely no one’s going to notice if you decide to skip it.  If you say you’re going to attend at an event where you know it's going to be a small crowd or even if food is being served it is in no way appropriate to just not show up without some form of notice.  To me these principles apply also to a facebook event.  I don't respond yes unless I have planned to attend.  It's not like there isn't a maybe option!  Bottom line, you've got to know that a lot goes into planning most events.  Think twice being a deadbeat douche bag and start thinking about someone other than yourself.

Whether it's an email, text message or voicemail (god forbid!) I feel obligated to reply.  No one expects a reply within the hour but a reply at some point is always appreciated.  If you can't take 2 minutes to reply to someone’s question you're probably a deadbeat.  Or maybe you just don't like the person enough to message them back, which on some level is the only legit excuse. But common, it's not that hard.  Replying to messages will make you that much less of a deadbeat, give it a try.

Now I know this might be a harsh reality for some but if you don't have year round employment, you are a deadbeat.  To me EI (unemployment insurance) is for people who need it to survive.  Most of us pay into it in hopes that we won't ever need to rely on it.  For some able bodied workers that just not the case.  They would prefer to sit on their asses collecting $700 cheques every 2 weeks for before seeking out employment.  I mean I can appreciate that these people have actually had to go online twice a month to claim they are still unemployed and actively looking for work.  They likely have to borrow a friends computer to do this truly grueling task.  What can I say, they work hard for their money.  

What this all comes down to is that true deadbeats are self absorbed, lazy slackers.  To all the deadbeats out there please comprehend that it's important to take time out from worrying about yourself and realize you’re not the only person on the planet.  Next time you say you're going to do something, actually do it.  Understand that other peoples time is in fact as valuable as yours.  Recognize that your world may revolve around you but everyone else's doesn't!

...Now if this blog entry left you feeling a bit sour I suggest you loosen up by purchasing a bottle of Thornhaven's Tortured Grape.  This delicious Okanagan white wine will undoubtedly lift your spirits.  Slightly above the deadbeat price point at about $20 per bottle.  This is guaranteed to make you feel like less of a deadbeat loser, even if it is just for one night!  

Who is he? G. O. D.

There's something about a solid relationship with the good lord above that I just can't help but question.  Seeing as I'm the kind of person that usually doesn't believe anything until I see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't consider myself a god loving follower.  Of course I have to judge those of you who do place so much belief in the big guy and have come to make some basic classifications of reasons behind why over 80% of the world’s population are a part of a religion.  In my experience most religious followers fall into one of these categories.

1) Family followers.  Many are grandfathered into the notion that a book full of fairy tales written thousands of years ago is in fact 100% truth.  This I can understand to a point.  Dumb people usually raise dumb kids.  Being raised knowing no better and likely never given the chance to question why it was you believed in such a bizarre combination of stories.  Stories which probably guilted you into being a better person and to not give up your v-card until marriage (keeping in mind all religions have loop holes, in this case it's usually the a-hole!)

2) Near death experience.  The odd person gets through most of life unscathed by the church life until they have narrow escape with emanate death.  Living through something traumatic often causes the victim to start sending thanks in God's directions.  Being completely helpless gives people the need to believe in a power greater than themselves, in which case they're not responsible for their own actions.  

3) Death. Living through the horrific experience of losing someone you deeply love is something that often forces people to put more thought into the whole god thing.  I think it gives people peace to think of something greater than themselves in control of a situation that must make any person feel completely powerless.  Legit? Absolutely. 

4) A place to belong in a time of desperation.  Many social programs including shelters and food banks are ran through churches.  What better time to scoop up a newbie to your religion than some who's helpless, homeless and fucking hungry.  You enjoyed that goulash? Go ahead and thank old JC, that one's on him.

5) Fear.  Why risk it? Is there such a thing as God laying down his rath? Some people don't want to wait around to find out.  Not wanting to end up shoulder to shoulder with all the people you wronged in life in a fiery pit of despair (aka hell) is a relevant fear.

Like most of the 20% out there who aren't a part of a cult (aka religion) I like to believe in something bigger than myself when it's convenient for me.  If I really want to win the lottery, I send up a quick shout out.  If someone had a gun to my head, that’s about the quickest way to turn me into a devout Christian.  Realistically though, take a second to think about it.  There's a big strong white guy up in the clouds, wearing a loin cloth with a full beard with no chest hair that is responsible for all that happens to the nearly 7 billion people on earth.  Oh wait that’s not all, he's also taking care of all the people who have died and joined him in heaven, that’s got to be another couple of billion.  What about the animals? Yep, he warms them with his embrace as well.  Call me crazy but something about that strikes me as unrealistic.

One of the main things that rage me about church goers is that lack of responsibility they take for their own actions.  So you fucked your best friends wife, call it god’s will. You murdered a man with 3 kids and a mortgage? Tell the big guy you're sorry and eventually you will go to heaven and spend eternity eating philadelphia cream cheese without gaining a pound. You shit your pants?  My apologies but there is no godly excuse for that.  Now I should say that I'm the first to spin the dradle, accept the paid holiday on Good Friday or even sport a skanky Halloween costume (that is a god based holiday FYI) but that is where I draw the line.

So what the hell does my bitter and cynical self believe in?  Without sounding like a complete hippie I'm a strong believer in Karma.  Seeing as I don't always conduct myself as a stand up human being I would like to think I believe in karma in-spite of the downfalls it has for a person like me. Of course I also believe that both timing and fate largely contribute to peoples good fortune and even more so, their misery.  When it comes to death I just can't believe once you die, that's it.  That's far too depressing.  However I also can't force myself to believe spirits float up to a dreamy and bright place where everything is sunshine and lollipops.    I would like to think that if I died I would have the ability to look down and creep on people in a way facebook has never allowed.

I guess what it comes down to is that I'm just sick of people not using their brains. I’m sick of the countless people that believe in this garbage only because they didn't stop to think about how ridiculous the whole idea is.  Yes believing in things can most definitely create a positive but aren't there better things to believe in than religion?  Believe that you are capable of something bigger than just being a follower.  Believe that in the real world saying sorry for your sins doesn't always wash them away. Believe that you’re in control of your own god-damn life.  Believe you can do whatever the hell you want on this earth without fearing the repercussions.  Believe that G.O.D. & J.C. might be the most questionable fairy tales every told... and believe that if in fact there is a hell, I'll be seeing you there.

The Perfect Lemon Drop Martini

There are few things in life I feel very passionate about, having a Lemon Drop Martini made properly is one of them.

After sampling 4 or 5 (bakers dozens) I've come to know what works and what is completely unacceptable in creating the perfect lemon drop.  Before I tell you my magical recipe here are a few things that you need to know when ordering a one of these tasty devils are a bar.  Firstly and MOST importantly, if you see the word 'limoncello' do not order it.  For those of you who aren't familiar limoncello it's a Italian lemon liqueur which is extremely offensive to the taste buds. If you are one of the few people who actually likes that garbage I officially forbid you from reading on.  Secondly, do not use flavoured vodka, please for the love of god.  No lemon vodka will not make it extra delicious. With a lemon drop you're not going to want anything beyond the basics.

BEFORE YOU BREAK OUT THE MARTINI SHAKER:

• Start off by creating a simple syrup. Do this by dissolving as much white sugar as you can in about a cup of water.  Using warm water works best, but you will have to do this ahead of time so you aren't adding warm ingredients to your martini.
• Cut a wedge of lemon and run it around the rim of your martini glass.
• Have a small plate ready with some white sugar leveled out on it.  
• Take your lemon rimmed glass and dip it  sparingly into the plate of sugar then put the glasses in the freezer.

LEMON DROP RECIPE:

• Ice
• Simple Syrup 
• Vodka --- preferably Russian Standard
• Triple Sec  --- optional
• Lemons ---- It's best to have a lot of these on hand because the amount needed depends on the ripeness ... plus who knows how many you will want!?

Fill your martini shaker 3/4 with ice.  Add 4oz of Vodka and 1/2oz Triple Sec.  Add the juice of one lemon and throw a couple of lemon rinds in as well.  Add approximately 1oz of simple syrup.  Shake the shit of it.  Now and most importantly, test your mixture.  Don't get ahead of yourself and pour a below average product into your nicely rimmed glasses.  You may want to add a little more lemon or simple syrup depending on what you like.  Once it taste right pour it into your chilled, sugar rimmed glasses and ENJOY.

This recipe makes 2 martinis because I don't encourage drinking by yourself... BUT we've all been there, so if your sad enough to be drinking alone you might as well get drunk.