Kellen/Amsterdam

The Things I Miss

2007-11-28T13:09:00.000+01:00

So how long has it been? It has been awhile. I woke up today, had a beer, and decided to write.

I've cut back on my drinking some, which is good, but recently, I have been smoking a good bit of herb, more than I'd like to say atleast. So there's that. It's quite cold here and windy, so my big lip is always busted and there's nothing I can do about it. Real attractive. The best way to describe my female social life is non existent. I haven't been going out looking for women at all, which is starting to bother me some.
My first course at school is over, now my film program has started. I believe I have a three minute something due in 8 weeks. I made a highlight clip, a radio commercial, an audio mix, a dvd cover, a website, among other things, for school so far.
I still spend a night or two with my Uruguayan couple every weekend, which I really love. The husband and I are really close, so I have someone to talk games with. The wife and I hang out some on weekdays and do alot of school work together. I couldn't ask for a better set up. Erik, my dutch friend who's only there 3 days a week, and I hang out bout once or twice a week, and he's also fun. He hates everyone, so we have that in common. I really like to think I haven't changed. Much like Chase and Erin, the couple loves having me around cause I'm fun and crazy and break up their weeks of school/work. So I still have it =P. Here's a photo I shot of Erik in Amsterdam.
Amsterdam has an oder to it. It's like cigarettes and trash. Not so romantic. I certainly wouldn't want to be a helicopter pilot here, the clouds are always so low...

So I miss alot of things, but I think y'all would find it interesting to know the top things I miss after a couple months, people excluded, because of course I miss y'all.
I miss Taco Bell, 40's, Newports, bumwine, all night fast food restaurants, fast food that's tastey and has more than 6 things on the menu, a car, not having an hour commute, channel surfing, the High Life, corn cob pipe, living on my own, restaurants that don't take 2 1/2 hours, my lip being not busted. That's what I came up with in 3minutes, I assure you there is more. Of course I miss you all.

Anyway, I think that's all I've got. I won't be trying to call anyone this weekend cause I'll be in Belgium, but I do need to call everyone again, especially Ella, cause I told I'd call her months ago.

Motown's Greatest Hits

2007-10-13T01:15:00.000+02:00

So it's been alittle while. I'm sure y'all miss it, like the Kug misses a bacon sandwich, but I can say that because he doesn't read my blog. That hurts my feelings by the way.

I just came home from my neighborhood pub, and I didn't have enough money to get me drunk. Unfortunatly, I drink alot and my tolerance has shot through the roof. I drink alot these days; to pass the time. Anyway, tonight I went to the pub, and much to my shagrin (firefox would tell me if I spelt that wrong, fucking MS Internet Explorer), no bartenders I knew were there. My pub has a ridiculous turnaround rate, so now only one, maybe two girls there give me free drinks for being a regular. My favorite girl, Wyonda, got ill and left. That upsets me for multiple reasons. To preface all this, I have a moral quandry with flirting with bartenders. I feel that drunk assholes hit on them all night and that I'm doing them a curtiosy (my english has gotten so much worse) by not hitting on them. However, I had a slight feeling that this girl mighta dug me, and I missed the boat. All my new friends here (all 3 of them) think I missed a chance to get back in the game; I'm skeptical.

Any given night I sit there, by myself, at the bar, drinking alone, looking pitiful. I go two maybe three times a week. By possibly the favorite music in the pub is Motown. I actually really enjoy listening to Marvin Gaye ("I Heard Through the Grapevine and What's Going On are the two favorites of the pub's playlist), It really puts me in a good disposition. So no free beers, what I've come to expect, for the past two visits and I'm on the verge of rioting.

This pub (Bloemers is it's name btw) is not to be confused with the after class bar my friends and I frequent. Everynight, after class, we goto the pub (whic remains nameless) and have a couple beers. Amstel (beer) unfortunatly, which is sweet and pales in comparison to Grosch, my drink of choice. This bar, however, has the craziest people there. It's in Amsterdam Noord, which is where alot of blue coller people live. Were so much younger than anyone there. We usually play fooschball, talk about class, and Mauro and I will chat games a bit. I think I've told y'all this before, so I wont delve any further in.

In other trivial news, my mother's cat has abandoned her and stay with me 80% of the time I'm at home. I've got pussy in my bed once again, and my feet are warm. I win.

I have indeed met some people, as you might have seen on facebook. If not, here are my two closest friends.

I apparently look gay in 90% of my pictures, which is unsatisfactory for me. So they're married. I knew the wife first, she's in my class. Her name is Sophie and his is Mauro. Mauro and I set a night (well he sets a night, I don't do shit so my schedule is wide open) a week and we game, mainly Monster Hunter. They are from Uruguay and their English is better than mine, actually, almost everyone's English is better than mine. Wanna talk about sad realizations? I'm going over there tomorow, probably. She cooks dinner for me everytime I come over, it rocks. I really enjoy them. I also have another friend, whose Dutch, but he's only in town from Tuesday to Thursday, then he's in Belguim. It's enjoyable to call him Belgin, but he hates it, but he also hates the Dutch, Americans, and well, everyone. By the way, everyone I've met here thinks September 11th was a government scheme. Yeah...so that's a fun thing... I don't like talking about that part of people here, but twice I've had people come up to me in class and ask me about it. I'm also the only American in my class, which makes me feel token as shit. It's like me vs. Europe when politics come up in class. I don't participate, but the entire class turns and looks and me, eager for responce. Thanks America (which I've now learned is offensive because S.American's don't wanna be grouped with the US...). So yea, you know how I love politics.

November will be "Scrubs Blog Title Month." I do my best to channel Zach Braff and inner monologue. So there's something to look forward to.

It's pretty lonely here, my stuff still isn't here and I'm dieing to watch a movie. I still haven't gotten my immigration sorted out and soon I'll have to file as an alien, which I think is badass.

No Cars Go

2007-09-25T16:55:00.000+02:00

Man, my beer has been in the fridge for two hours and it still isnt cold...but there's only one left...they sell 16ozers here, and they are tasty.

One of the things I pride myself on is my titles. I don't usually have ideas to write a blog as a whole, but then a title comes along and the ideas fly in. Now joel (my dire rival in blog city) has exponentially better writing, but my titles...they bring my readers...all 4 of them. hahaha

I went out sunday cause I wanted some Burger King. So I rode the tram over to Leidsaplein, a very touristy area, but there's a Burger King. I proceeded to eat to worst chicken Tender Crisp in the history of the King. I'm suprised I didn't see him behind the counter hide with a knife, giving me the finger over the mouth "shoosh", then proceeding to murder everyone that had anything to do with my lunch. I got a call that broke up the future diaehrea (*) that was my lunch, telling me to pick her up beer, since I drained her last two the night before. So after my lunch that later would revisit in a most unpleasent manner, I headed to one of the few grocery stores open on Sunday. It's on Sarphatistraat...which is close...ish but a sizeable walk. Beer acquired and I began the hike home. It became immediatly obvious to me that there were hardly any cars on the road...but it was Sunday, go I gave it little thought. Then I came to a major intersection...I saw the apocalypse... Roughly a thousand (no shit maybe more) rollerbladers were following a van with giant speakers mounted to it down the street. I couldnt help but watch...for about a minute and a half, and I walked off...and there were still people rounding the corner, as strong a current as ever. Frightend of ass rape, I escaped, safe. My dad later explained to me that it was no car day in Amsterdam. Explained alittle...but not they gay orgy rollerbladers...

I got my haircut today, which is one of the three times Erin hasn't cut it in two years. It's not bad though...I just had to pay... I felt like sex afterwards and struted the entire way home from Heinkenplein (no shit, name of the straat). I treated myself to a 6 pack of 16oz Grosch, which is more than I can hope to drink without getting bitched at by my dad (the words alcholic and problem come up many times). I came home and continued my vain attempt to make it through FFXII, but I can feel it isn't gonna happen. Then proceed to takemy dog for a walk with a beer in hand, I really love that.

So y'all have been imageless for along time, so I figured I'd give yall alittle more.

First, these are my parents, this picture makes me laugh my ass off, my dad is so pissed for some reason.

Hahaha, I love it. Now for a Kellen few of y'all know, and since I'm nearly positive she doesn't read my blog, it's prom picture time. Now I may have told some of you how I dressed for prom (nothing crazy, but short of 'prom dress appropriate'), but alot of you don't. I didn't rent a tux, I didnt wear a tie, I went to express and bought a shirt and a belt...I borrowed the jacket from my friend. Now here you are, without further build up, here's a prom image (not a group shot, it was too small to see) a great and what I like to think is "classic Kellen" image.
That's all you get, you'll have to beg for more, but anyway, I'm done. Since Kug doesn't read this, he is gay and love the warm embrace of a man.

The sad truth

2007-09-23T00:14:00.000+02:00

So I guess it has become that my blog has become less of that, and more of a weekly update. Less fun, laughing, things, and more about my life.

It's sad when the closest I feel to home is when I watch a show about prison in the states.

So it's Saturday night, there are two parties I can hear from my backdoor step. I'm down to my last beers, it's a sad moment. Another sad moment, today was a very illfooted day for me. Might not seem like much to y'all, but it scares me. I've hardly drank at all today, though consuming around 10ish drinks, I havent been drunk, but perhaps I'm feeling longer term affects of booze. To be continued...

Here we go. I've made a couple friends. One is a dutch kid from Belgium...go figure. He is an alright guy, smokes alittle more than I'd like (herb). These dutch kids love stealing, especially bikes. I'm not so down for stealing, you know, cept from frats =P. A girl in my class and I have become friends. She is from Uruguay(*). We became friends along with the dutch guy. She's married and her husband, I've also become friends with.

School nights have become my favorite days of the week, not because of school, but because I see my couple friends. We have gotten to the point where we have started hanging out some outside of school. Nearly every night after class we goto a pub. It's a good walk, cause in Amsterdam Noord pubs are fewer and far between. So, we goto this dutch pub. I say dutch because it's alot of older...alot older butch people that frequent it. You could take any of our ages (19-24) and add them together, and undoubtfully not get anyone in there. The most recent night, Tuesday, we had the great pleasure of watching these 50+ year old dutch people grinding on each other in front of the dart boards...I wont go into great detail, but know it was memorable. This place plays the best music in the world. On any given night we'll hear MC Hammer, Vannila Ice, 50 Cent, and more. They dont just play it, they play it loud, like we're a bunch of criminals and they're trying to supress our horrible actions. I can't hear what the person is talking about unless they YELL it at me. It's cute for awhile and gets real old, but it's our only option. Anyway, the four of us (Erik (dutch kid 19), Sophie (S. American girl 22), her husband Mauro (also from Uruguay) play Fooshball and had a blast.

That night was fairly normal for school night. We hang for a couple hours and beat the night bus home (trams and normal buses stop at 12:30am and differnt buses start that have differnt paths and normal passes like strippen cards dont work on). After that long winded parantheis, Wednsday came along. (I've now moved on from American prisons to the first Chinese Emporer on TV) Erik called me around 8pm telling me he was in Amsterdam. To explain, Amsterdam Noord (where he stays on weekdays) takes alittle hassle to get to the Centruum. So I met him at the very touristy area, the Dam, and decided to show him the Red Light District. Though he is Dutch, he isn't an Amsterdamer, so I know more about this town than him...crazy. After wandering around for an hour or so, coining whores with names like I normally would (ones I called Scandalous Jane, wearing nothing but a couple black straps and some mats of cloth...what I normal would call Ms. Strapkins). We headed back to the Dam, going to a "punk" bar. It was nothing special except the fact that I saw Kurt Cobain there. I have no doubt now that he lives, much like Elvis. He was around mid to late 30's and had a mustache. He also nearly broke the pinball machine in his anger. I'm convienced. So we hung out, smoke three J's and went home...that was alot of herb.

Thurday came. I'd been looking forward to this night since Mauro and Sophie invited us over. (I'm on my last beer now...q_q). I went over armed only with a fifth of bourbon, a liter of water, and liter of coke. It took me about an hour and fifteen minutes to get there. As soon as I got there I immediatly made myself a drink and Mauro showed Erik the beauties of Resident Evil 4 on the Wii. Overcome with joy Mauro and I talked extensivily about it. He asked for me to make him a bourbon and water was well. I obliged. Now Mauro is like my Joel substitute. He was into theater back home and has many crazy stories about it, much like the Rogue. But where Joel's stories consist of peer pressure from Bruce Cambell, Mauro was invited to orgies on a biweekly basis. Differnt strokes. Erik rolled one and we smoked it...of course. The day flew by and Mauro and myself started talking, drinking, and realizing we played the same exact games. He's a huge fan of Final Fanstay, the anime he likes is the same, his "want to play" list is the exact same, and to kick it all...the games he wants most to play on PS2 are the Ace Combat games. All my friends know that is the deal sealer... So we bonded. So class drew closer and Mauro and I went drink for drink having a blast. As we were trading off murdering the other in Mario Kart, I get a call. Class cancelled. Couldnt have been better. He's an audio worker, going to the same school, so he called in. So there went the bourbon...then the 12 beers we had. Erik went home, not wanting to take the night bus, so Mauro and I asked his wife if I could stay,she obliged. We went back, and cleaned off two bottles of sake, doing the same, chatting it up. I turned him onto Monster Hunter, so now I have a companion. I just hope Sophie doesn't feel left out now that her husband and I have bonded. There are some videos they took. The first being my discussion about how I dont feel comfortable doing the very European kiss-on-the-cheek goodbye like Erik can, the other on the porch smoking a J, talking about movie inspiration...

So here we are. No images again cause Samsung is still working on my camera. They'll come. But I miss you guys, and today, I'm missing Greg the most. I was thinking about all the great times we had...and if you read it man, I miss you. Now I miss all of y'all, I just go through phases. I missed the Kug when I first got here, Chase when I wanted to talk about games, Erin when I needed a haircut, Joel when I need to feel like a kid...etc. Anyway, I hope all y'all still read, and I LIVE to hear from y'all, either via comments or facebook. Because without confirmation I feel worthless writing these. So please drop me a line...I NEED TO HEAR FROM MY FRIENDS. and if none of y'all have let Joel hear Mofro yet please send him some or just goto itunes and listen to some. He'll love it

A liver holding a white flag

2007-09-16T00:01:00.000+02:00

So I figured I'd bookend my week alone with a blog.

My first two day consisted of watching seasons five and six of Scrubs on youtube, so if you wanna watch scrubs the user "scrubsimovies" has all the seasons. And I got drunk.

Of course, school twice a week. Thursday I spent the afternoon with one of my three friends from school. We hung out while smoking herb and drinking the afternoon away. It was the longest class ever, and it was on the physics of light...

I tested my luck again tonight at the neighborhood pub, and again got three free beers. My favorite bartender, Wonyda, screwed up someone's order and gave me the beers in question. Perhaps it's cause I sit at the bar, by myself, talking exclusivly to the female bartenders, and look pitful. I think that might be my angle. So by popular opinion of my handful of friends here, I think I'm gonna ask her for her number...but I didn't tonight. She's cute and gives me free beer, really I don't need anything else in a woman.

I drank alot this week, alot. Two cases were shined over the course of the week (I drank everyday) not to mention pub consumption. I woke up today at 9am and had a beer, so I decided I'm going to spend this week sober, except for thursdays and saturday nights when Wondya works...=P.

I don't think I have any fun images this week, so q_q about it, however, goto youtube and watch "terry tate office linebacker." I'm sure most of you have seen it, regardless, whenever I'm down, I think about how much the Triple T loves to hurt people, and I feel better. There's four episodes of enormous black man on tiny white people tackling action. Watch it again and have something to look forward to on your saddest moments. I'm gonna go watch one right now to cheer me up...since Im out of beer and I'm not smoking until class again...booyah

A case of beer and six days to myself

2007-09-08T15:48:00.000+02:00

Of course, more than that will be drank, it's just a starting point.

Recently, I've been seeing European versions of people from Ruston. I met a Urguaian version of Joel+Andre. He did theater and he favors them alot. Also, today I was at the grocery store buying beer, and an identical copy of Ashley Norton (most of y'all dont know her) but Mediterainian* was in front of me. It was wild.

Not much to say really. I started classes. It takes me about 25mins to get to school and 45mins to get home. Usually, I get home pretty close to 11pm, which is pretty wild, but I dont go in till 7pm. I met three people there, and we went out to the pub Thursday night. It's a Dutch kid that lives in Belguim and an Urugauian couple, whom I really like. I might go out with them tonight, but I dont feel especailly well and I'm trying to break my nocturnal sleep pattern (I've been waking up at 10pm...).

So, as I mentioned, I went to the grocery store today. After a couple times of hauling cases of glass bottles home, I had to find a better way. So I fashioned a dolley out of my mom's grocery cart. All the younger people looked at me like I was a big pussy, but I couldn't care less because I'm getting my drinking on, and they aren't. Older people, however, looked at me with this strange look. A look of accomplishment and joy, giving me a thumbs up with their eyes. It was wild. They stared at me like I was some young beer toting savant.

My mom has this querk. (what's with all my news being about my mom...) Anyway, she gets all this spam from all sorts of people, but a special breed of spam comes from my grandparents. The above is proof of such internet, what appears to be a beaver, chocolate blasphemy. She takes this horrid, horrid spam, and forwards it to my dad out of spite. I guess it's probably not so funny to y'all, cause it's not funny to me right now, but when she does it, I can't stop laughing. It's the most spiteful thing ever.

Sorry this week is pretty dull with not much funny in it...but hey, I cant give you gold every week. I close with one more animal spams.

"I'm a woman, and women get raped"

2007-09-03T20:23:00.000+02:00

My mother is slowly going insane. In highschool, I liked to think of her as playfully crazy or a tad wacky, but after living with her again I'm begining to realize that she is on the threshold to full blown insanity. Along with, "I'm a woman, and women get raped," have come a plethera of awesome quotes. The most recent of which came a couple hours ago when she was describing what to get at the grocery store. She said, "In Albert Hejm there's a bakery, that has baked goods." Now there's multiple parts of this I'd like to analyze, first of which being the fact that she fells the need to tell me the function of a bakery. Now either, A: she thinks I've never been to/heard of a bakery, or B: am a complete idiot. The other point was that I've been to this grocery store around 30times, I know there's a bakery, thanks for telling me for the 30th time. So if your mother feels the need to define things to you, might wanna start getting a tad upity.

So if on the top of your concern lists is: What is Kellen about to eat, then your in luck.

If you guessed "Cool American" chips, then your a liar, there's no way you could have known that, even if I'm a damn cool american. I never even ate Doritos till I came here, I just can't resist buying these chips that say "cool american" on them.

I start school tomorow, so I'm a tad uneasy about that. Only three hours of class, then straight to the pub, but...I dunno, man.

So I went out Friday night with the couple I met last time I was here. I met them at their place around...10:15ish. I think it was later than that. Anyway, we sat around and chated there, downing warm Heinkien, and eventually went to a club around midnight. The place was pretty empty, because apparently, nightlife in Amsterdam starts getting busy around 1:30am or 2. I bought them a couple rounds that I owed them and we were having a good time. An attractive dutch girl struck up a conversation with me and we talked till I wanted another beer. When I got back from the bar, not just she was gone, but my friends were too. I saw the girl, who had moved on to the next group of people, but my friends had left (I found out the next day they left entirly for one reason or another). After realizing they weren't there, I began the long journey home. The trams stop running around 11pm I think, and it was 1. I sat waiting for the "night bus" for 30 minutes, and you see some real characters out there at night. Once aboard, my bus seemed to deliberatly skip my stop despite my dedicated pressing of the Stop button. I ended up about five or so long block from my house. Some other girl got off the bus, and I offered to walk with her till we had seperate directions to go. She was german. I went to the pub, where I was the only person there, and talked/drank with the female bartenders till 3am.

The End...I think I might goto the pub right now actually...even if it's raining

Revolution

2007-08-30T20:42:00.000+02:00

Hi,my name is Kellen, and I left all my friends behind.

It only took me about an hour and a half to remember my blog account info, and yes I have been drinking, but that had nothing to do with it. We'll start almost a week ago at my "going away" party.

Considering nothing, my going away party was in the top 7 nights of lightest drinking The Kug and I have ever done. You may find that fact ironic, because it was in the top 4 night Chase has spent vomiting/waiting to vomit, though not to drinking.

Chase and I rolled over to Kug's around...7 maybe. We got ourselves a pizza at Joe's, which is a very good joint for pizza, if you have any taste...affordable too. Anyway, on the way home, Chase starts feeling like shit. We grab some beer on the way back and hang on the porch of his apt. for a few. MEANWHILE, Chase is in Kug's recliner looking like he's playing a losing hand of Blackjack with the grimreaper. He vomits around my beer two.

Like a miracle, he comes back out jumping and feeling better, immediatly starts kariokeeing* Avril.

Ahhh, it stopped raining so I moved outside to type, very nice out here. It's about upper 60's with a breeze.

Anyway, Chase didnt feel well for long and I took him home around beer four. I was back at Kug's in about 40mins, and we kept drinking, bonding, and Wii bowling. He stayed up really late hanging out with me.

So I left Friday. I drove...lots of fun. Spent an hour at "World's Slowest Dairy Queen." My weekend in Houston was incredably uneventful. I don't think I would have survived it without my hacked PSP. One day I spent with Justine, she called me Mr. Rape and Punch, which I found to be the most appropriate name anyone has ever called me, even Kellen loses out. I called her Ms. Fertile Teenage Pregnacy, which I thought was equally as apropriate but half as funny. I really wanted to hang out with Hudson and get stomped like an unwanted puppy at Soul Caliber, but I didnt have a ride because MY CAR IS GONE. I've spent many a day mourning its passing. My brand new camera also broke when I was visiting my grandparents. That was a day of hassle getting it sent in.

I just had to sneaky ninja another beer to evade my parents scorn.

So I left Tuesday. My plane left at 7pm, and I was bitchy all day, imagine that. It's funny that even my friends online, especially Tony, know I bitch alot. But this day was specially, I wasa cunt all day. As I was waiting for my luggage in Amsterdam, I realized I wouldn't see Cheaters, Springer, Ninja Warrior, Colbert Report, or any other beautiful piece of Americana for two years. As I was walking out to the cab, hands full of luggage, I see on a TV bigger than any apartment I've yet to step foot in, the music video for Chrisitina Agulera new song

It was about as sobering as you can get. All the good stuff I can't view, but all the trash makes its way through the horrible filter I like to call "Eurotrash Taste." When we were in the cab coming back to the house, I almost straggled my mother. Apparently somewhere between stepping off the airplane and getting her bags, she lost her ability to speak English. I wont go in depth because I'm way to lazy, but think of a very Asian persons first day in English class. So embaressed... It took me about 4 minutes to hit the pub once I made it home. I pee'd, found my folder, got my money out the folder, counted money, determined how much beer that money would purchase, and left house. It was a beautiful day, and a couple beers really relaxed me down.

I woke up today at 2:30pm and went and got my immigration pictures taken. A real blast. My mom gave me more than enough money, so on the way home I was tempted to goto the pub, but I was strong...because I realized I could get more beer if I went to the grocery store!!! The bummer was, I had to walk 3 blocks witha case of glass bottles. Now you might be asking yourself, "I've never known Kellen to drink without occasion," and you would be an idiot, but today I had reason. We have a soriety house behind ours...and they are rushing tonight. It's like the night Andrew and I were camping and heard the girls playing Twister... I could approach this sober. Last time I went back there they were cheering and strip club music was playing...I put two and two together and knew titties were flying... I wanna die

So Justine said something that really stuck with me, she said "For being someone that never tries to get girls, you sure do get alot." She was right, the only girl I activly tried to pick up was Skittles, and we all know how that turned out. So what's the lesson here...I dunno, it could go either way. I could try harder and get more Skittles, or dont try and get mor nothing to moderate...but...this is stupid.

I've never wanted a cigerette so bad before. I went to Virginia never wanted one once...but here, it's crazy. So I just started drinking more...it hasn't been working so well, but I'm yet to smoke.

Can you please show me on the doll where the man dutched you?

2006-12-27T12:35:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was what the Dutch call "2nd Kerstday" or 2nd christmas day. I figured what better to way to celebrate than to hit the pub. So I did. I wasn't really drunk when I left, drank 4 massive beers (probably equivlent to 1.5-2 bottles) then came home and continued to drink. I learned a valuable lesson about foreign beer. Don't mix the high alch % ones with the low once you've been drinking awhile. Noted

I've been walking around the town everyday. Just exploring the area around my parent's house, shotguning a cigarette or two, and getting some exercise.

Nothing really to tell y'all. I think Sekou and his brother are coming tomorow, that'll be cool, but I don't know what we'll do besides drink and...well drink.

There's no "pub" in euphoria, but there should be

2006-12-24T09:54:00.000+01:00

Yesterday...again not a very exciting day.

My mom and I went to the market street to get some food for dinner. It's essentially an alley with all sorts of junk and fresh food. Junk for tourists and the food is, of course, for locals. Afterwards, I went for a walk by myself.

I walked over the Amstel river. As I rounded to the corner to the tram stop, it left. Dejectedly, I walked up to the stop and spent the next 15mins of my life staring at a building. It wasn't an interesting building at all. 15mins came and passed and I got on the tram with my destination being: the photostore. My parents told me to get off at the wrong stop, so I had to ask for directions then walk down quite a ways.

For some reason, I get this strange satisfaction when people intially speak Dutch to me. It's like the illusion is complete, I blend in. The look I get when my excellent form of Americanized English hits their ears. It's like I just shot them with the uncomfort gun. Just makes me all tingly inside.

The chick in the store did this, that's why I brought it up. I asked her if she had any 35mm b&w film. She handed me 120mm... Apparently, when an American uses the metric system, normal comprehension functions shut down for Europeans. I eventually bought both types in resign. Perhaps it was because I knew where I was going next.

I walked out of the photo store, only to see the tram leave again... So I walked. I honestly couldn't tell you how far it was, for I wasn't really paying attention. Maybe a mile or two. I was very pleased when I made it to where I was headed, my favorite neighborhood pub.

It wasn't very crowded, so I sat down by myself. I asked for a Westmalle and a salami "toastie", which was damn tasty. So ask I sat there, eating my "toastie" and drinking my high alchohol content beer, I realized how very pleased I was. Though by myself, there was nowhere really I would have rather been. I've never been one to down my lifestyle in the states, but man, these eurotrash got the pub right. Lit almost exclusivly by candles, the sandwich had both onions AND green peppers (my favorite), the beer almost has a proof number...heaven. I continued to sit there, after finishing my sandwich, drinking beer. After two Westmalles and a huge Grolsh, I went home.

Apparently, that is the perfect amount of beer to make me want to sleep (essentially 6 beers). And that is what I did. I slept till dinner then watched the Green Mile.

Michael Clark Duncan is quite the actor.

Anyway, today I'm probably gonna spend with my parents. Were going out to dinner and walking around town as well. Chances are Ill bring the digital camera and pop some shots.

My Strange Everyday Life

2006-12-23T10:27:00.000+01:00

I don't any of you will disagree, my life is weird. Or perhaps I'm just weird...I dunno.

So here we are again. I'm in Amsterdam, and I'm blogging once again.

After the cancelling of my flight on the sceduled day, I was forced to wake up at 7:30 for my flight yesterday (or was it the day before yesterday...I lose track of time over here). Anyway, despite my 4 and a half hour layover in Houston, my flight when well. I actually got some sleep on the plane for a change and Metal Gear Solid for the ol' PSP kept me more than entertained.

It wasn't nearly as cold here as I expected, though it's pretty cold today.

Really didn't do much yesterday, got my hair cut. Apparently, "just alittle trim," when translated from English to Dutch means, "cut off all my god damn hair." I consulted my dictionary, it really does. The most depressing of all, my sideburns are gone, for the first time since I was like 10. Fortunatly, my hair should grow out in a week or so.

On my walk back to the house, all the while obsessing over my head, the odd started. My dad and I are cruising down the street and we happen upon a porn store. By no means an uncommon occurance in Amsterdam, and me being the person that I am immediatly let out the sentance, "Word, tits," erupt from my mouth. After a look of what could only be described as question from my dad, we happen along a daycare. I stop. Turn around. The name, "Kidz Konnection," is no more than 4ft away from easily the largest poster of bare tits I've seen in my recent years. Kid's love tits too I guess...

I found this disturbing enough to post.

The weird didnt end there. As we strolled up the alley next to the house, a kid prompted me with, "Hey man, buy me a gram of grass?" The kid mighta been 14. Had my dad not been there I probably would have said no a tad more colorfully, however he was. A giggle follow by, "no," had to suffice.

My mom mentions the chick and her parent, whom were hanging out with later in the break, on almost an hourly basis. Ah, whatever.

We'll see if my audience still exists, if so I might have more interesting tales to come.

That Dirty Drunk and the Tamberine Behind my head

2006-08-26T00:54:00.000+02:00

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

2006-08-20T20:53:00.000+02:00

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."

2006-08-06T15:45:00.000+02:00

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

2006-08-04T16:04:00.000+02:00

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

2006-08-01T18:37:00.000+02:00

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

I hate stairs

2006-07-30T14:08:00.000+02:00

So, 6 days left

The unthinkable has happened, well actually I kinda figured it would happen. I'm sick of monster hunter, imagine that. It happened around Friday. This is really unfortunate because now I have less than nothing to do. Let me run you through my day (again):

11am- wake up, eat something
1130am-1330: sit in front of the computer (check facebook, blog, gamefaqs forums, and ioncross forums). continue to milk it for as long as possible
1400-back to sleep or lunch
1700-wake up, computer again for as long as I can
1830-dinner, going out or staying home
2030-completion of dinner, computer, surf tv for something in english
2230-watch a movie or two, or a couple episodes of 24 (bringing home first season)
2am-sleep again

I've been on this cycle, or something simular to it for about a week. Somedays I do something, most I wont. I'm just killing time till I can come back to the States. I'll probably hate myself for doing this when I get older...but fuck it.

I managed to break my face yesterday. First, however, let me preface this story with:
"A History of Kellen and Stairs."

As a young boy growing up in Kingwood (a houston suburb), I was used to the concept of multiple floored houses. However, at about the age of 11 (6th grade i think) my parents moved me into a One-story home in Baton Rouge, for the housing costs their are more expensive. Ever since, I've lived in a one-story. Flash forward eight or nine years, I live on a first floor apartment. Regardless of my inexperience (I have about as much experience as Joel with sushi or Chase with the Arabic language) with stairs, I, like the 6 year old that I am, insist on bolting up them when forced to climb them. This generally concludes with some sort of injury to me. Watch me at the Student Center. I'd say about once every week or so I eat it on the stairs. The stairs here in Amsterdam are not for novice stair climbers, such as myself. These sons of bitchs are a polished concrete (making them super slippery even when dry) and are approximatly 6in wide. Bottom line: I fucking hate stairs.

So back to the face breaking (i typed "breasting" there first...). My mom alerted me that the "furniture guy" was coming over to pick something up and that he'd need my help loading into the van. I didnt feel the best, so I ignored her and took a nap. About an hour later I woke up to my mom yelling at me to get up and, of course, put some pants on. I stumbled upstairs and was briefed by my mother as to exactly what I was lifting. It was the "map table." By no means is this a light object. So me and the "guy" lift this son of a bitch, not terribly heavy, but by no means light. I'm the one that gets the honor of walking backwards...and then we got to the stairs. Fucking stairs. I start my decent. My mom tells me "Be careful, those things are slippery." In my mind I'm blowing her off thinking, "Jesus, I can walk down fucking stairs..." and just as that thought leaves my mind, I caught the edge of a step. The damn table catches me in the eye and drags all the way down my arm (and leaving a nice little gash), but I manage to keep it from falling too much. Table was fine, which was all anyone really cared about. My eye, or atleast the lower lid got cut, somehow. Not sure how a table can cut, but it did quite a good job. It looked like I was crying blood, which scared alot of the Dutch passer-bys. Imagine an American repeatedly saying, "Damnit" while having Virgin Mary crying tears stigmata. I bled all over the damn sidewalk, but managed to finish loading the van...while bleeding on it.

I guess the moral of the story is: fuck stairs.

I finally caught up to myself in 24, which means I'm halfway through the first season. Since I have several nights left here, I plan on concluding it and the 2nd season before I come home. My parents are letting me keep the 1st season and'll give me the 2nd (they have up to the fourth) when I come back in the winter. More to put on the Big Black Bookcase.

I again got denied by blogspot upon trying to upload an image, and I dont feel like restarting. So fuck it.

You can't catch a nigga with the last name Speed

2006-07-27T12:33:00.000+02:00

I'm trying to make up for depriving you poor people of your entertainment for so long. I'll be your tamborine monkey just alittle longer.

I come to the conclusion that Turkish and I have simular patterns with women. First of all, one of his ex's is a stripper, one got knocked up. One of mine is potentially a porn star, and another potential prospect (we flirted a ton, she wanted me to goto homecoming with her, yea im a youngin, i declined. She went with another dude who all she did was bitch about, then went back to clinging onto her ex of 4years. Long story short, she got preggers and married the homecoming dude) popped a baby out at 19. I'm getting old. My parents had me at 25, pregnant at 24, that's 4-5years away. How far away are you Ella, Erin, Chase, Jason (cause one day someone is gonna forget something, I wont be able to handle pregnant Racheal, she's too much already)? However, I think 25 is a good age. My parents are 45, or something... and they live in Amsterdam. No kid, no worries. You get to be young and raise the kid. I just dont know though, that's getting close. I cant even decided if I want to be in school.

This just in, a member of N'SYNC is gay!!
No shit. Is this supposed to suprise me? That's like say Wesley Snipes is black (not mentioning he's the blackest nigga around). It's time for a visual.

Snipes looks straight up homeless here. I don't even recognize him unless he's kicking someone in the teeth or killing vampires.

Now please don't get me wrong, I'm beyond cool with gay. However, we live in an age of predijuce. Actually, it would be nieve to say that. We live within an eternity of it. I look forward to that future where the chicks at McDonald's are smoking and everyone is equal, except maybe women. =) Regardless, people will always think they are better than each other, and that's where the problem lies. I, personally and all moral issues aside, think homosexuals should have all the rights of straight people. Here's where it gets gray though. I really want to be totally down with them adopting, I really do. The problem is though, not that wouldnt raise the kid right, it's how much shit that kid is going to get from his peers. I'm not agaisnt them adopting, I'm just looking forward to a time when they can and no one cares.

I think I'm this way because of the enviroment I've always been in. Most of the time I've gone to a gay hair dresser, even when I was little. Then I had a gay man for my boss for over a year. Just doesnt bother me. I'm not an advocate, I just dont care. Much like with many things in my life. Bottom line: Gay is OK, especially hot babes.

(Picture was going to go here, but about half way through posting everytime blogspot.com doesn't let me post anymore without rebooting or changing computers...so fuck it)

While on the whole pop culture train, I decided to finally visit thesuperficial.com out of my own free will. I love this kind of stuff, so it was bond to happen sometime. I found this wonderful quote from ms. britney spears, who apparently doesn't give what she types a moment's thought. We call these people morons:

"In some ways, people are a lot like animals. I'm mesmerized by tigers. Their eyes, their stripes, their constant quest for survival. They almost have a sense of mysteriousness about them. They pull you in and make it difficult to look away. They make you wonder what is behind their gaze. A sense of eerie awe comes over you in their presence. The fear they give you when you pass them is stunning. Behold the beauty of the tiger."

Be happy my blog isnt like this.

Joel, if you haven't yet read my comment on your kevin smith post I highly recomend you do so now. It's a nice quote from the master himself and an awesome interview, you wont be disapointed.

Enjoy yourselfs bitches, it's a celebration

I'm the damn hero of Canton

2006-07-26T17:19:00.000+02:00

May Malcolm Reynolds be with you. But more on that in a minute.

It's been high 80's here everyday, which is a blast when you dont have A/C and you packed flannel. Because of this said heat wave, it's titty season in Amsterdam.

It's that time of the year where all the good Dutch women let their titties come out and greet the unwashed masses for a brief period of a week, or so it usually is. This summer has been uncharacteristically hot for Europe. The Frenchies are dieing cause it's so hot, but oh well. I've been indoors alot. With a fan, a psp, and a dark room, I've been couping. Regardless, everytime I come home from somewhere that I saw a ridiculous amount of hawt ladies, I have to knock one back to the bitches. So here's to the bitches!!

I looked pained... That's because I decided to turn the camera off (the power and shutter are way too close) 3 times before succeeded in photographing this moment. Needless to say, I consumed more of the beer in a minute than I would have liked, oh well, 22 more to go.

I've also been playing gross amounts of MHF (Monster Hunter Freedom for all the ignorant people out there). It's fun, but just like single player on console, it can be very cheap. I soloed "A Troublesome Pair", now I have to solo "Four Horns" to advance to HR2 (theres only 5lvs). I'll explain all the things I've learned when I get back. I'm friggen stoked about Valkyrie Profile!! I can't wait! I might not make it two weeks. Thanks guys for picking it up for me, I hope Erin drove my car, for I do not want Chase to. He drives too much like a Guy for my tastes. Please don't lock my keys in a room, Erin. Anyway, I'll give you cold hard cash when I get back. Simera in September...stoked.

Now back to what I was talking about earlier; If Firefly was a religon, I would gladly goto church. Fuck, I'd be a disciple. This is my calling: Spreading to good word of Malcolm Reynolds to the world, sharing wisdom such as, "Have you ever been with a warrior women?", and undoubtedly sharing the fair teaching of Shepard Book. Missionaries go from door to door, in brown coats, handing out DVDs of the pilot. There's path to follow depending on what character you choose to model your life after (me, of course, being Wash). So really, it's so much more. I'd really look forward to the followers of Inara =). The deserves a "Shwing!" Sunday mass is a Saturday night bar fight, and the followers of the Mal path have to punch someone. However, only once a month are the forced to punch a bitch.
Yea...I could do that...

I lost about 4 years off my life as blogspot.com gave me such a hard time loading these images. Oh well, finally done.

Sorry about comments, somehow I turned on comment moderation and it wouldnt post comments till I approved them. I approved all pending and now it off. Before, I was going to stop bloging, but then I saw all the comments! Now ill have to find something to write about. Thanks for defragging my computer chase.

I've made the decision (with my father the other night when we got drunk together at a pub, well two really) that I'm going to smuggle ridiculous amount of liquor back home. It's really cheap here, and if customs busts me I'm just gonna fork it over and say 'I didn't know.' Duty-Free is the way to go, everything is 5 to 10 euro cheaper than the States, that's about $15. I love Europe, but only for the bitches and alchohol. I would also like to share that I drank 5 beers posting this...enjoy. My picture of tits didn't load, ill go take a picture of some tomorow...maybe

Hopefully I get into more trouble for your sake.

Jesus sold me a cheap tripod...what a jew

2006-07-23T14:59:00.000+02:00

A week without a blog, how have y'all survived. My parents decided not to bring the laptop...sooooooooooo, no blog. Oh well, here we are now, together once again.

Turks...fuckin Turks...

Istanbul, easily one of the prettiest places I've ever been, ironically enough, I've never been readier to leave a place before in my life. Turks love to lie, so don't blame Art, it's not really his fault. From what was advertised about the hotel, somewhere around 2 of the statements were true. That's alot of fun. Turkey is the best example of capitalism I've ever seen. Everyone there is trying to sell you something. blah blah blah turkey

I started typing this with high spirts, however, I really don't want to talk about Turkey.

*grabbed a beer*

I'm thinking...give me a minute...I cant think of any funny pictures to post on this one.

I'll go out tomorow night and get into some trouble, then Ill have something to type.

Joel wouldn't survive over here...no double cheeseburgers, and they eat fries with mayo

Bitches

2006-07-17T09:15:00.001+02:00

This morning I woke up to what I thought could very well be the rapture. It turned out to be a power drill, circular saw, and belt sander working in harmony. So I grabbed my liter and a half of Sinas (orange drank with alot more carbination, less sugar, less orange), and started typing.

I've been having the weirdest fucking dreams lately. The night before last I dreamt I stole Hideo Kojima's DS (or was it Shingeru Miyamoto's PSP...) because it had tons of cool shit on it. I, of course, immediatly felt bad and pretended to be a PR director calling the other (one gave to the other as a goodwill present from the respective co.) to get it replaced. I feared for a quite literal console war. However, ol' Kojima has been thoroughly enamored with Nintendo recently, as is quickly becoming BFF with Miyamoto.
*Disclaimer: If you don't know who these men are, ask Chase or Joel, then you can care even less when they explain*
The one I had this morning was strange as well. I dreamt I helped start this basketball, ethnic, streetballin', church. There didn't seem to be much church, but lots of streetball. Anyway, people could come up and challenge you for a position on the "squad". I had a challenge that lasted for hours, which ended with an elbow to the stomach and me shiting myself. It literally got six times weirder than that...but I'm not getting into it.

Bottom line is I rarely dream at night, and now I have a fucking insane one everynight...

On a different note, I think Jagermeister is a drink made for the evil...

My good friend Craig (from Houston), or should I say bad friend, left me an undiscernable amount of Jagermeister. He got really sick from it so he decided that buying me some was the way to improve our bond. He was right. Last night my parents decided it would be "cute" to take me out to the Dutch countryside to eat dinner with my dad's coworkers (engineers), their wives (spoiled bitches), and their daughters (...spoiled bitches). More on this later; somewhere in there I decided Jager would take the edge off me. I took two hefty gulps (do it big or not at all) before walking out the door. Now my tolerance for alchohol isn't what it was in the winter, but I'm no pussy. I felt odd... After I got on the tram, I saw shit outside that I knew wasn't there...and I also seemed to have a new set of gravitational rules set just for me. I was not drunk, I was, what I have now discovered is...a state of Jager. Which brought me to this conclusion, two types of people can drink this shit: topless, drunken, bitches at Mardi Gras and evil people with dark souls. Now I'm not pure, I wouldn't even say I'm a good person. One could go as far as to say I'm a bad man...but I dont think Im evil, atleast not that evil. I don't kick puppies...that's usually how you gauge if someone is evil...puppy kicking.

I like puppies.

So back to the backyard blast that was an engineer's dinner party. We get on the train (my parents don't have a car, and being a product of the american lifestyle I can say honestly, they dont need one) ,and headed towards Den Haag (the Hague, but Im Dutch, bitches). We get off in a smaller city, where one of the wives pickes us up in her 30-40k $ Acura (it was bigger than any two cars in the lots put together) and drives us to her house. She pops the trunk, and much to my delight, I find beer. With the trip I call Jager well worn off, it was a welcome gift. We marched around the house, saying our hellos and meeting niggas. I think I said four phrases the whole time I was in the backyard: "Like an upside-down wedding cake," "that's a Class Bravo airspace," "Corperate Aviation," "Bah, that's Louisiana for you."

The daughters came out, attractive enough, but nothing overly special. One of them looked like she wanted to kick a baby, had the meanist look in that bitch's eyes. The other was more friendly. I, like the awkward social creature that I am, stared forward, made sure not to drink more beer than anyone else, and didnt speak. Occasionally, I would catch the 21 year old looking at me (four times I think I counted), and she would look away.

Needless to say, after eating all that cheese and potato salad with eggs in it, along with four beers, I was feeling a tad gassy and had to piss pretty awful. Someone recomended a walk on the beach. I thought, sure, I can make it, it'll be brief.

Little did I expect an eight mile death march up sand mountains and through the tide. I felt like an American soldier captured on the pacific front. The sand dunes here are easily taller than a moderately sized hill. They would classify as mountains back home. They are made of sand! You ever walked up a sand mountain...it sucks. Now imagine having to take the biggest piss of your life.

I eventually made to the end of this Dutch trail of tears. One of the mothers decided it would be nice to tell me how great her daughter (the baby kicker) had it here. I'll just give you some of the high points with my thoughts in ( ): "Oh, *what's her name* has it so great here, and she has so much fun. They go out on nights and run around on the beach (naked), have bonfires and such (read: sex). Also, the drinking age is 16 here (good habits start early) so she has that. She doesnt seem to appriciate it, but she has tons of fun."

Let me tell you how much highschool was. I worked. I played video games. And for fun, me and my friends slept on watertowers and...ate at taco bell.

I took a monster leak on the train...

Hope to be able to type in Turkey, but no promises.

I've said my goodbyes to the sun, my little one

2006-07-15T09:47:00.000+02:00

So here's how my schedule is like here: I wake up somewhere around 7-9 in the morn, walk around town til about 12-14, nap till dinner at 17-19, then go to sleep in the 19-21 area. I goto bed early and wake up early.

Yesterday I made the most delicious sandwich. Dutch hard salami, ham, and cheese my mama bought at the cheese market. Very very tasty, I did well. They also have chips with paprika here, it's kinda like european barbaque chips.
There's some crazy stuff going on in the middle east now. So where do my parents think it's a good idea to visit?? Turkey, gateway to the middle east. Needless to say I'm not very excited. Shit is really going down over in Lebenon.

It's almost scary how much I believe in Sam Jackson. I honestly believe that if we gave him a butter knife, a desert eagle, and a canteen of MD 20/20, he would solve any conflicts in a matter of hours. This is something I truely, 100%, believe. Sam is the man. Lucas didn't let him keep the "purple drank" (mace's lightsaber) because he feared the balance of power in the world would be thrown off.

I miss photoshop, microsoft Paint doesnt work in layers...

I'd like to thank Mr. Sharpton for all his help knocking out the technical kinks and such with the blog. I really appriciate the comments, either by facebook or the blog itself. It really makes my day to read them, and it's my only interaction with anyone my age I get.

Anyway, here's a quick on to tide you over

A drunken daze...skeet

2006-07-14T13:16:00.000+02:00

So I had plans to post yesterday, however as Erin can vouche for, I was entirely too drunk.

I was having this outstanding dream of Kiera Knightly kissing my neck yesterday morning. It was quite brilliant, however, much to my dismay, I woke up to the cold nose of a 95lb German Shepard poking me in said neck. So that's how that day started.

I made the recent discovery that Dutch children are easily the most horrible little demons on Earth. It wouldn't surprise me if they were the ones responsible for the Rwanda massacres years ago. These kids make Sam Speed's offspring seem tame and civilized. I was walking through a park in the morning with my dad, and all the little bastards were doing was yelling and running around. A pair of them even decided it would be "cute" to scream at me the entire length of the park. However, the Dutch don't believe in fences or boundaries at these parks, so the little fuckers can just stroll out in front of a tram or bus. I believe it's what they consider population control.

On a similar subject, I was at the grocery store later that day. We go everyday because you can only get as much as you can carry. You have to pack your own groceries in a bag you bring with you. There was this little section of the store where parents could just dump kids off and shop. In this little castle of terror there was a TV playing Disney's animated Robin Hood. A great movie for young and old, however when it is dubbed in Dutch it is the most terrrifing thing I have ever heard. The male voices scream this horrible noise at you. No wonder the kids are fucked up.

In this same super market I got another surprise, this time pleasant. After being scared shitless by Disney, good ol' American porn brought a smile to my face. I'm standing in line, and what's this staring me in the face? Two pair of big ol' titties, an uncovered Playboy is sitting right next to a Star tabloid. This makes me assume that the old "Mommy, what are those?" talks happen alittle sooner here.

From what I gathered, the Dutch (or at least Amsterdam) are more socially advanced than anything else I've experienced. I base this soley on levels of tolerance. These people tolerate prostitution, hordes of foriegners, low level narcotics (herb and shrooms [shrooms are everywhere]), crazy hippies, and most horrible...patulie. That's my quick take on that.

I'm fairly convinced that my parents are out to get me drunk. They buy me beer by the case at the store, then take me to the pub and order me a beer even I don't ask. Now for some math: I had two 9.5% alc beers at 33cl (a touch over 11oz), then two more 5.1%ers at same volume (that makes 6 normal beers now). My dad takes me home, leaves to go out with his co workers to another pub, I head back out myself. Same pub as before, more beer. Two more small 5.1%s (8 now) then two big ones. These things were huge. Those things were easily 22oz, if not more. I'll be modest and say they were only twice as big as the smalls. Regardless, that puts me at 12 beers (modest) in 2 hours?? Drunk...but before then I decided with my good drunk judgment that I wanted to goto a cafe...

So you might here these tales of beautiful Dutch women rolling your J then licking it in the most sexual manner possible...heh. If by beautiful woman you mean sweaty, fat Greek dude, and by lick you mean throw a plastic vial with the J in it at me then overcharge me then...yes, yes it's like that. It was a shitty place, and I sat at a table in drunk(heh, on a proof read I found this and left it, funny fryodian slip...front) of this crazy strung out ice head, possible hermaphordite. It was a a sketchy call...but I did it. I guess it didnt help I did it was a block away from my house, which is quite a distant from the tourist areas, which is where all that stuff is. I couldnt feel the herb over the alchohol I consumed, money well spent. Excuse the sarcasm.

Strike three.

I called Erin, then proceeded to silly drunk shit around my house. Apparently I fell down the stairs...

I got bored and decided to go on an adventure...I went to the red light district, where I walked around for somewhere around 3 hours. Two things learnt: Haitians sell lots of blow, and you can't play a player. First, there are these Haitian dudes trying to push coke all over the place over there. I got sick of it, so in my great judgement I went up to one when he called me over. I asked him, "Do I look like I'm stupid?" In which he questioned my orgin. I then asked him, "Do I look like a mark to you?" He replied that I look like a smart fellow. Then I told him "Then you know, thatI know, that your overpriced and cheap quality." He gave me this look of, "what the fuck just happened?" I walked off. It was a terrible a idea and nothing but bullshit, but I think that dude was actually uneasy as to what was conspiring in front of him. That was my danger for the night. Expect of course the hundreds of hookers.

Now the second lesson, the player thing. These bitches are players. No heart of gold or pretty women hookers here. However, they are smoking hot and theres something for anyones tastes. Fine ass bitches. I didn't do anything but walk around and absorb the vice for three hours, biggest waste of time ever. I guess I'll explain to yall what this place is like. Imagine an alley with glass doors lining it, now imagine half naked bitches behind the glass, like lunch meat. Crazy place.

So I was adventurous but didnt really do anything but get drunk yesterday.

This is what the French call "power blogging"

2006-07-11T19:09:00.000+02:00

First of all, if you comment please throw your name on the comment. I can only guess who you are and honestly, not so found of guessing. And who the hell is KY? Come on; give me something I can work with people!

There's something I need to share with you guys. When Moses was trying to lead his people to the "Promised Land" he was heading in the wrong direction. It's here... Please notice the price. That's 8 Euro for 24 bottles. So what, that's around $9.50, $10? That's 24 beers!!! A 6pack of Heineken at Wal-Mart or Mulligan's costs $7 or $8. Holy Shit!

So here's how the system works: You buy the beer in a crate like this, 8 Euro, awesome, but already established. You drink it...again, awesome. Then, you take the bottles back, a pain, but it's $9 for quality beer, I can cope. Here's the best part. At the grocery they add on a fee for the crate and glass, somewhere around 3.5o Euro. However, you get that money back when you return them.

So you may be asking, "Kellen, surely all beer (or bier if you wanna be all Dutch) isn't such a bargain!" That is incorrect. The nicer beer might be around 9 or 10 Euro...nicer beer...how much nicer can beer get?!

The world is indeed my oyster...or at the very least...my $9 dollar case of beer...

So that's where I was going to end this one, bring it to a close. However, typing that last sentence moved me. It inspired me to rant about this great beer salvation some more.

A case of Miller High Life, the Champagne of Beers, is $12.50 now in tin cans. A case of Heineken in glass bottles is $9.60. A case of Natural Lite, Natty if you'd be so bold, the choice of frats and dorm rats around the states is around $12. I'm flabbergasted.

Why Don't You Blog About It?

2006-07-11T13:08:00.000+02:00

So I figured this would much easier than sending out a facebook message or an email every once in a while...we'll see if I can actually stick with it. Those familiar with Mr. Sharpton's Blog...don't expect the same level of writing from me.

Maybe it's because I've been living in Ruston so long, but it seems like everywhere I turn in this city I see beautiful women. Tons of them...however when your walking around with your mother all day they might as well not even be there. Who am I kidding though? It's not like I'd actually do anything about it anyway. Also, as Mr. Guy would say, there are tons of "trustifarians" here. White dudes with dreads, Marley T-shirt, smell of herb coming off them, while walking around with their didgeridoo. I guess that's enough about the people, was the first thing that came to my mind.

My day of flight was exactly that. My mom and I went to this Italian resturant they regularly visit. Great food, and they even offered me a free beer. I was tired and, amazingly, declined. I TURNED DOWN A FREE BEER. That's special, y'all remember that shit.

You go everywhere on a tram here. Fairly convinent. My parents live well into the city. Chad was right, there are lots of different people here. Certain people live in certain parts of the city. My parents live in a very Dutch area, which sounds odd since they live in Holland, but you'd be suprised to see all the different areas. I ganked this image from some Dutch tourist site.
So...I don't talk awhole lot now. I'm kinda uncomfortable here. I like the city, but I just feel out of place. While I don't fit in with the droves of tourists walking around in "I love America" shirts, I don't fit in with the locals either. Just feel out of place. Even Google is in a language I don't understand. I'll pretty much let you know now that there won't be any crazy stories. I'm just too much of a pussy to actually go out on my own and explore or goto the club/bar at night. It's a shame...blast my courage.

The weather is about 70 all day. It's good to see my parents and animals again, but it's going to be a long month...