That Dirty Drunk and the Tamberine Behind my head

Today I came to the truth. I'm not a bounty hunter, superhero, badass assasian, or a movie star. I'm not intimately linked to any celebrities, especially ms. Knightly. I live in a tiny apartment with a stack of pork n' beans in my kitchen. I sit here everyday, playing games and living in a world that doesn't exist. It makes me think, have I lost touch. Could I have been something more... Now I don't even know what I wanna do or where I'm going. Good at nothing, medoicre at somethings. For some reason, I needed to say that.

In celebration for this sobering discovery, I will be getting trashed tonight. By myself if it happens to be that way. I'll wake up tomorow, alittle hung over and hopefully alittle more intouch.

I changed my major today. I'm not officially an art student...again. Chances are that any friends I had in aviation will outcast me, but hell, it happens.

Wow I'm whiny today. mewithoutYou is a great band, and that's an understatement. It seems like my blogs were more upbeat in Amsterdam, perhaps because I was drunk half the time. Heh, I'll have to chug a beer before I write another blog. I'm desperatly grasping to find something entertaining of the past week, but nothing comes. It's like I live in Groundhog's Day, but time passes...and I dont die everyday...yea...
The downward spiral I call tonight begins now. All are welcome to come and join...

My Three Week Notice

I'm in one of those 30minute periods I get a day where no one is fighting for my computer. Here I am, giving you the brain candy you love to comsume.

It's been, what, three weeks? Not a whole lot has happened. Lots of hanging out and gaming, but that's what I came home for eh? Its been quite nice actually, though with all the games I've been playing my speech has suffered.

Wanna know what's going on? I'm sitting here, drinking cranberry juice out the bottle (it's a little hot), listening to the Roots, recovering from a hangover, trying to think of a good story to tell. It's odd though, cause now the people that read my blog I hang out with again.

Wine bong is a terrible thing. We'll have to do it more often.

I just opened my trash can and it smells like a fucking brewery. Gah

I could talk about how awesome Snakes on a Plane is...but I've already told y'all...hmm, therein lies the problem. I think I'm a tad too out of it today to blog...but I'll post this anyway, perhaps as the light at the end of the tunnel...see I'm not making sense.

"I can't help feeling that I didn't drink enough."

Well, all good things come to an end. As I prepare to leave I have mixed feelings. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't be readier to return, but think about what I'm leaving. I'm abandoning two of my loves. Beer and bitches. First of all, the beer here was remarkable. We can thank no preserveatives for that. So tasty, and cheap. *sigh* It's really breaking my heart to leave such an awesome collection of beverages. I can't help feeling that I didn't drink enough. And then there's the bitches. Hundreds of thousands of fine ladies. Where am I going? Ruston...fuck. They won't know I miss them so.

Now that I'm done lamenting, it's time to get down to business. Tomorow this time I'll be off the coast of the UK, heading home. From gear up in Amsterdam to touch down in Monroe is 13hours and 1minute, projected. That's not counting time I'm at Schipol before takeoff and all the time at Monroe before heading home.

Now for that smuggling situation. I've decided not to bring the Jager home...this time. Instead, I'm sneaking a 75cL bottle of my favorite Belgian beer. It's called Westmalle Tripel (as in triple), and it's 9.5% alc. =) The plan is to have it in my backpack the way to Houston, because that's legal. However, at the first security checkpoint it becomes illegal on US soil. So....I actually have to goto baggage claim in Houston, that's where I make the switch. I sneak it into my suitcase, then put it back on the belt. Two things could make this plan go south. One, customs does a search of my suitcase. I've come up with a pseudo solution to this. I wrapped some of the glasses I'm bringing home just like the bottle, so they look identical. The only difference is weight. Tricky. The other problem is less legal. Cargo bays typically aren't pressurized, therefore there is a chance if the seal on the bottle isn't good it make leak. I'm willing to take that chance.

So enough about leaving. Friday night my dad and I went out. First we went to, what we call, "the beer store." It could go by no other name. It's a small shop, but almost every sq. in of the walls are covered in beer. Individual bottles from all over the world. Around 950 beers...yeah, awesome. I flipped out. After making some purchases (and we went back again today...it's that awesome), we decieded to hit my dad's favorite pub. It's called "In de Wilderman," and they have 18 beers on tap. ...We tried several of them, some of them a couple times... Then we proceeded to catch a tram and meet my mother for dinner. We were drunk, to say the least. It was pretty funny, at least for me.

Here I am, drinking one of my last fine beers for a couple months. It's kinda of like how if you knew you were going to die you'd appriciate life more...except with beer. I almost made a habit out of not drinking anything that isn't 8.5% alc or higher. Saves money.

About the blog. I'll probably change the url when I get back, something like kellen.blogspot, or mynameiskellen, or perhaps askeetskeetskeet. Something around those lines. I'll post it on facebook, under my webpages. That way those who care can look, those who dont can go fuck themselves.

I miss the American culture, but despite what I thought when I first came here, I could live here. However, I dont think I could move back in at home.

So there you have it, a month. Hopefully I'll see alot of you tomorow, if I dont, chance are I didn't want to see your ass anyway. I should be back in Ruston around 9pm. I may be in a good mood, I may be beat, I may be well on my way to drunk, who knows, I'm Kellen bitches!

akfbafafnaal;finao vba

First, I'd like to lead off with something alitte sad. Atleast for us gamers. The latest news (I dunno how recent, Joel watches the Internet more than I) is that big money gaming publishers are thinking about pulling the plug on E3. Reasons being it costs entirely too much money to ship niggas over there and to build expensive booths. They don't do it small at E3. We're talking 100+" TVs, dance floors, and booth babes. Though the latter was regulated this year and given a dresscode. This could be a very sad year for us gamers...and for women who get paid to dress like wizards.

Yea...magically delicious.

I took a walk today in hopes of purchasing gifts for all you niggas. Unfortunatly, I suck at it. Anyway, I went to "The Dam." It's basically a big square filled with tourists, high priced cafes (to rip off said tourists), and weird entertainers. Think of it as a gross French Quarter. I fucking hate The Dam. So here I am, strolling through The Dam with hate in my heart, when all of a sudden I get a free laugh. I spot a Segway Tour. A tour for people who want to pay to look like douches. It doesn't get much worse than that.

That's not the Dam, but that is a group of douches.

I also had the pleasure of seeing the definition of class today. With the tram schedule all fucked because of the Gay Pride parades this weekend, I made the executive decision to walk two miles back to the house. So there I am, cruising down a street, dodging through tourists when I come up on a family. Dad's smoking a J wearing his Metallica T-shirt, passed it to Mom. The kid's just chilling with them, he probably was quite chilling inhaling all that herb into his 5 year old lungs. Isn't that just the definition of class?

Eurotrash love fries, and they are damn tasty. Just thought I'd share that with you...

I've been watching alot of 24 and I've come to a conclusion. The women in that show are 1 of 3 things: A (stupid), B (bitches), or C (stupid bitches). Generally when I watch the show and a woman does something, I collaspe in awe, in awe of their irrational thought. Just watch, test my theory. I'm getting close to finishing season two. It makes season one look like an episode of "Mr. Roger's Neighborhood." Though it's alot more split into segments, and some I strongly dislike. Maybe I'll knock out season three before my return, considering I watch 8 episodes a night.

If this is my last post...then so be it. I'll probably change the url when I get back. As for smuggling of liquor. I'm gonna try and sneak the jager, but unless I feel really inspired Monday, that'll be it.

I'd be one bitchin' celebrity

So basically since I came here I've become the unofficial "master of the internet." Not to be confused with He-man and his posse of do-gooders. I pretty much sit here, sifting the internet for goodies, when I'm not running errands in Amsterdam with my mom.

So I found these pictures and I couldnt pass em up. They're pretty old (the Oscars this year) but made me laugh for about five minutes.

The first one is the best. Jake Gyllenhaal, obviously drunk, doing his best impression of a scary fucking "Where's Waldo?" in Brokeback Mountain director, Ang Lee's, photos.

This makes me think. If I was a celebrity at an event where I was nominated for a significant award and there was an open bar...fuck I'd be rich so it wouldn't even matter if it was locked and guarded by Michael Clark Duncan...I'd be plastered too. Not only that, I'd be in multiple "sexy" relationships with Elisha Cuthbert, Kiera Knightly...and Jessica Alba could come too. I'd drive my motorcycle (because I'd have one) tracking down Paris Hilton and Lindsey Lohan, just so I could slap the shit out of them. Yea...Russel Crowe style, but without a phone. I'd be one kickass dude.

Back to reality, or atleast sorta. This makes me wish I got paid to write about pictures people gave me...I could do that.

Well, now that I think about it...probably not.

Also, the reason I haven't put any real photos up is because they are all in my camera. I guess I'll get them developed before I get home, but I really don't think I'm gonna be able to get a photo CD. Plus, those things are generally piss quality, and I have to photoshop to make up for lost ground. Most, if not all, of my pictures are from Istanbul. When I get them all developed, y'all will be the first to see them -for erin