Archive for the 'Danishness' Category

It’s 8 a.m. right now and I just woke up after catching about 4 hours of shut eye.  I’m going to be boarding a plane in a couple hours.  I feel like hell this is going to be brutal.  I remember just a year ago I was writing stuff down on Notecards so I could remember what my drunk ass was thinking at all times.  Now I get to write all my random thoughts onto this nifty little notepad on my iPhone (my new Christmas gift)94.   

Normally I talk about how I’m writing in my hungover slash drunk mode, nope this time I’m still obliviated.  Since I can’t focus enough to make this fit any sort of style I’m going back to my old article style with just random comment after another.

Just finished watching my parents argue over the most trivial stupid thing.  Why are parents so good at that?  Who the fuck cares how much stuff is in the suitcase?  Stop arguing, it will get packed regardless.

Vomited last night a lot.  I remember having to pull the cab over to boot/pull the trigger.  And then doing it in some random front yard of a house on their bushes.  Ah well.

That night, I went out with a good friend of mine in Denmark, DanishGuy#2.  It was my last night in Denmark and was the only night we could get together.  I initially hadn’t planned on drinking hard because I knew I had to get up at 8 a.m. and travel all day.  But, we go to the first bar and they’re charging normal Danish rates, $20 large long islands and $10 beers.  So, I saw no incentive to go hard at it there.  

Just got sidetracked.  I’m listening to my iPod on shuffle and an old 50 cent song called ‘Heat’ came on.  In the song he claims he wears bulletproof hats.  What the fuck? Those exist?

Had a couple drinks and we moved on to the next bar.  This was a really fun German Beerfest type bar with everybody in the bar ranging from age 18-25, the exact kind of crowd I like being around.  We go up to the bar to get some beers and take a shot when we notice they have $2 Jaegger shots.  This type of shot price is absolutely unheard of in Denmark.  Needless to say we hit it really hard leading to my puking demise.  I really am a tool, these days Jaegger has surpassed Tequila and really is my shot of choice.    

Just finished a little nap while driving to the airport, my head is still pounding.  You know the same type of pounding one does to their girlfriend after not seeing them for weeks.  

Oh my God.  I’m pretty sure I’d rather be in Hell for that hour than go through that type of pain again.  It hurts me just writing this back out.  The first flight was an hour long and the pain never let up and I have no one to blame but myself.  I went out hard last night and I deserve this.

Another sidetrack.  The new Bow Wow/Omarion cd Faceoff is real solid.  I’m a big fan of this cd right now.  It combines Bow Wow, one of my favorite artists/rappers and puts a little RnB flavor to it.  The kind of stuff TwinKidMan would love.  See I like RnB to an extent, one song here, one song there that’s fine.  But, I can’t listen to an entire cd straight through that’s just annoying.  Same shit every song.  The only time I can endure multiple RnB songs is when I’m laying the pipe.  

Back to story.  So, I’m on the airplane about 5 minutes into the flight when we start experiencing some turbulence.  No, I didn’t get scared about dying, I love flying and am never worried about the plane going down.   I mean I’d just be depressed I didn’t enter the mile high club before my demise.  The turbulence wasn’t even anything to write home about, it existed to just fuck with my body.  It felt as if the turbulence was actually inside me, specifically my stomach just spinning it round like a DJ.   I stand up to go the bathroom and vomit everything out of me when the fucking stewardess tells me to sit down, no one can get up until we are through the turbulence.  I was too angry to get into an altercation.  Instead I opened up the puking bag they provide you on flights hoping it couldn’t hold all my vomit and planned on leaving the mess and letting her clean it up.  Unfortunately (for me and fortunately for her) I was able to hold it down until they turned the damn seat belt light off.  By the time I get to the bathroom my head is spinning from focusing so hard on keeping the vomit down.  This is the part of the story where I spent the next 5 minutes dry heaving praying to the porcelain god.  Not the manageable type of vomit where stuff is exhaling every two seconds.  No, the kind where it is either bile or nothing because I hadn’t ate anything since vomiting everything out of my system in the cab a few hours earlier.  I get back to my seat drink some water and continue to hold back vomit for the rest of the flight.  I didn’t feel better the rest of the day.  This continued for hours even after the first flight.  I hated life and throughout the whole ordeal I asked myself over 100 times if given the same situation would I go out that hard again.  And, I could never give myself a complete no, you shouldn’t have done that.  I really feel like 90 times out of a 100 I would re-do that night with DanishGuy#2 even given the outcome.  

Side Note 94: Speaking of the iPhone.  I fucking love the thing and all but there are some really simple issues that I can’t believe apple overlooked.  EvilFather and I have had some good discussions about it and she’s going to write a guest article on our frustrations.

Finally back in the states and time to get back to writing articles.  Sorry, for all the text logs and videos, but hopefully they kept you entertained while I was gone.  I got some good stories from Denmark and New Years that will be up within the week.  But, in the meantime I got something that’s really bothering me. 

I noticed something when I was in Denmark this time.  Hell, I’ve noticed it a million times I’ve just never discussed it with anyone.  I had a great drunk talk about this with another Danican (Dane slash American).  Denmark is caught up to date on almost all things in terms of culture, electronics and all types of day to day activities.  But, of all the things to be behind on they can’t figure out their fucking toilets.  Here’s the problem.  Everytime a brown log leaves your asshole, it falls to the bottom of the toilet and splashes the dirty water back up on your buttocks.  I fucking hate that.  It happens because there is not enough water in the bottom of their shitters.  It can’t be too difficult to raise the water level of the toilets, can it?  I know you have all experienced this before on trips or at some cheap relatives house where they don’t want to pay the extra $.38 per month on the water bill, thus leaving the water level way too low.

The Danican and I both admitted to each other how we always put toilet paper over the water to elimate the splash effect, but we shouldn’t have to do that.  I guarantee we aren’t the only ones doing this and wasting paper as well.  I mean it has to be a simple thing to change, right?  And I’m pretty sure it’s not some simple adjustment on each toilet (because if I didn’t say this, I’m sure someone was going to comment and tell me there is just some lever to pull on) because every toilet in the entire country has this problem.  So, today when you’re sitting down at work taking your first shit, please don’t take it for granted, be glad that your poop just sinks and doesn’t splash your asshole.

Editors Note: The author does not expect any female comments today figuring that females have no idea what the splash effect is since they don’t poop.

A very old article from June 29, 2006.  I doubt anyone has even read this article because it’s so old, so that’s why I brought it back.  I really enjoy this article and I don’t know why.  I was obviously quite drunk while writing these things.  This is the only article I’ve put in three categories, a tough one to characterize. 

Drunk Night to say the least rereading this shit to type it makes me laugh, wow the things I say, I love it.

NC1 - the irateness builds inside me.  The fury just made clench my fists so hard that the danish coins penetrated my hand, creating blood.  Whatever, Iøm so thirsty, I would drink it.  The fucking cart stopped a booth away! Iøm thinking about paying for their food just to give me this 16 oz $4 bottle of water.  I went to the bathroom 10 minutes ago and drank from a faucet that had a huge sign on the mirror saying donøt drink.  Whatever, Iøm on a train they probably use the same recycled water to flush everyoneøs shit, shouldnøt of brought that up now I need to go.  By the way Iøm thinking about making out with this ’sick’ chick next to me just to get water.  It’s here, yes…. She’s literally coughing every 2 minutes26.

Side Note 26: she looks like she wants to cry because she ordered pills and they didnøt have any, haha

NC2 - Itøs funny how Daneøs use American slang.  Some guy just said fuck in Danish.  And he used Yes, with emphasis, itøs so funny.  Iøve adapted that Yes because itøs easier for me to use English. (pure drunken rambling, sorry)

I just got god knows how many hours of sleep, less than 3, but it’s impossible to fall asleep on this train.  Sick bitch can, I canøt.  I almost want Mono back, thatøs how much I want to sleep right now.

I guaranteed creeped this Danish chick out last night.  I remember thinking sober how much I wanted her.  I woke up with her number.  Iøm so scared for myself, Iøm afraid of what I said, or worse what if I paid her (fuck that, I know I will never ever do that).  Regardless, I know I used the patented (by me) date line.  So, Iøm calling her when I get back27.  I also woke up wth 2 dudes cell numbers in my phone.  I know there were no man crushøs, what the fuck happened last night, seriously.  No one can tell me, itøs not fair.

Side Note 27: Iøm writing this right now a couple days after getting back and have yet to call her, donøt know if I ever will, I have no recollection of any conversation we had.

NC3 - My scab on my elbow from wrestling 2 weeks ago just peeled off and fell on the table.  Talk about revolting.

Fassad (guaranteed spelled wrong, but that’s how it sounds)…Sounds like Farrah28.  I put on this Fassad at parties in Denmark, like Iøm this shy down to earth nice guy, which I do believe I am, wait normally I’m not, but people do believe Iøm nice, I think, I donøt know.  Whatever, these Danes donøt know the devious crazy thoughts going on in my mind.

Next Stop..Middel Fart…Pronounced exactly how you would think.  Laughing out loud, looking dumb, fuck you sick chick.

Sex in Denmark…they have it so young like 14 is normal and average.  Virtually impossible to find an 18 year old virgin.  So, not my style, to get on these girls since they have had infinite partners.  Whatever, I wonøt know what happens when I black out next anyways….Ooooh water.

Side Note 28: by the way why are there no Somaliøs in Iowa.  They overpopulate MN and I didnøt see one in 4 years at Iowa. 

NC4 - I want to rip my pen in half and see what happens.  Perhaps, the blue blood, wait this is black, anyway, maybe this blood will spray all over sick chick.  Iøm laughing out loud envisioning this. I just snorted, I laughed so hard.  It reminded me of the day a guy snorted coke in my dormroom.  Such, a good thing I didnøt do it.  I would not stop writing if I was on coke.  My life would be one huge trip, scary.  Good idea, I didnøt do this.  This pen idea might happen, who am I kidding I donøt care, whatever, sheøll wake up, I wonøt be jealous of her anymore, I wont have Mono like her and sheøll have ink on her, sheøll be awake and angry.  haha, delicious idea.

NC5 - Attention span is 0. I canøt even listen to music in piece.  I want to ask these guys around me to engage in the most ridiculous conversation ever created by man29. Like seriously, ask them about sexual postions or ask how much they would need to get paid to lick sick chickøs face.  Must not stop writing on notecards, which is ghetto by the way. 

Side Note 29 : So random, no idea why I thought of this.  Personality girl #2.  The other day a 45ish year old woman, wanted me.  This I know, 1:100 odds I know.  She had 28 and 29 year old boys, shit she was probably more like 55ish then.  Anyway she said she would come visit me at my work sometime.  Her sonøs a big wig at yahoo and does it based out of India.  I dug the fact that she reminds me of my friends parents.  Anway, she specifically pointed out twice that she had been divorced twice, I was golden.

NC6 - By the way, next presidential election should be based on something people relate to.  How about fucking discuss a topic like the future of sports or how to eliminate sexual diseases.  Guarantee a 90% turnout for my generation.  Just farted, can’t play a fart off on a train they have to all know it’s me.  Old people just kissed and loved it, I hope they are still both getting ass and I hope I am too when Iøm their age. We just passed a PWC building, they have the same accounting firms in Denmark, huh strange.  Wow, I didnøt learn shit in college, haha, still gonna make sick money somewhere, eat it school and your 2-sided bullshit stuff you taught me.

NC7 City names in Denmark kill me, the last town we passed was Odder, pronounced other.  Seriously, who created these names; an English comedian with a terrible sense of humor. Just listened to a song that I rated on my Ipod a 1 out of 5 sober, I’m loving it now.  Fuck that rating, sober = bad, hungover/drunk = good; music is infinitely better when drunk.  Is it bad I now look for the ring on older women everytime I see one.  Nah, that’s legit my range is now only from 18-55ish after that chick from the other day (nah, I’m playing).  Shit, I have problems.

NC8 - My favorite color is blue, which means I was a sellout at age 2 and picked the same color as everyone else. (wow that is random).I hate rap skits, why are they there. Seriously, Iøve never liked one, ever. Ooooh casino in Amsterdam, time to win money, Yes, Yes, Yes!

NC9 - What the fuck, why is seating so arbitrary.  Fuck the number system that decided I have to sit next to sick chick.  What about seperating male and female model a couple rows in front of me.  Put her next to me, money says I donøt look as good as him, but I can maybe intellectually stimulate her and maybe sexually for about 3-4 seconds.  Yeah, thatøs it, she really is that ungodly30 good looking.

Side Note 30: Why, do I reference god, my thoughts on him are very ______.  Donøt know the word for it.  Mixed doesnøt do it justice.  I’m creating a word for this, danish letter word: æåø, that’s it, it ranges my religious thoughts.  I’m done talking abut God, I hate when people talk about religion or politics, so I must stop.

NC10 - No longer on train, I’m at the airport.  This is probably the most important and best notecard….It hurts so bad holding back right now.  I know fights are inappropriate in airports, hell I’d probably get arrested.  These 2 fucking kids need cement blocks thrown at their faces.  I hate them and I don’t know them.  Description: Ivy league stuck-up fags, sweatshirt tied around their collars, straight out of Caddyshack.  Younger brother of the two doesn’t realize that jeans are okay at age 14, already in business formal, fuck him.  Seriously, cement block isn’t painful enough.  Those glasses, that watch.  I hope someone shows him the real world.  Oh and their fag swagger needs a reality check also.  I feel like breaking the glass in his glasses and stabbing him in the shoulder with the glass, so his shoulder hurts so bad the sweatshirt can’t rest their.  Then for no apparent reason rip one of their finger nails off (for some reason the movie Saw popped into my head, yeah I know a little extreme). 

My scariest drinking night from my trip to Denmark.  Every night was pretty much the same game plan.  Work from 9 to 6.  Then we start drinking at around 5 because all of the customers come to our stand knowing that my dad always has ton of beer to serve.  Leave the fair at about 7 and head out to dinner.  Take a group of about 10-16 customers and employees out for great danish food and more drinks.  Then, my dad goes to bed and I take the people that want to keep drinking out.  This particular evening, I was out until 5 in the morning.  Had to wake up at 7:30, god that’s fucking exhausting.  Just writing this I remember how tired I was those days, needless to say lots of energy drinks.

I end up going out with a couple guys, but only one real trooper that lasted the whole evening.  He had lived in Copenhagen for a couple months and supposedly knew a bunch of hot spots or should I say hot spots in his mind.  We go to a couple bars have a good amount of fun.  But, old men75 (I realize I need to bring back the side notes, I’ve gone away from them for too long) can’t pick up chicks, so they eventually get bored and want to hit up some strip clubs (titty bars as they call them).  Go to the first strip club and it fucking sucked.  A whore only walked out on stage every 20 minutes, way to slow paced for our drunk asses.  Then, we move on to another strip club.  This one was equally as frustrating, just as slow, but also get this.  A stripper got mad at us for watching her give a lap dance to some guy at the table next to us, so she came over to our table and tried to make us pay for just watching.  Seriously, shut the fuck up trick.  It’s completely standard in a strip club that if you’re not in a back room and a stripper is giving a lap dance in a common area everyone is clearly going to watch you.  Finally, I calmed my frustration with some soothing tequila shots, god I had missed that, it had been over a week at that point.

Needless to say, we decided to leave this strip club as well.  What does this old guy want to do after striking out at two bars and two strip clubs?  Go to bed.  Nope, he tells me has one more place to show me.  I’m assuming anything will be better than these shady strip clubs.  Boy was I wrong.  He takes me to the street where all the hooker’s hang out in Copenhagen.  Are you kidding me, I’m 22, I don’t need to pay for ass, what the fuck do I look like.  Naturally, the first girl he sees (an overly thick black chick) comes up to him, offers to fuck him and they go off into the basement of some random vacated building. He hooked up with a fucking prostitute on the street corner, seriously who is this guy?  Okay, to each’s own, but at least give me a heads up before we get there.  Because now I’m stranded by myself and completely lost outside of downtown Copenhagen, meaning I’m by myself in Hookerville, Denmark.  It was probably the most decripid gross street in the world.  I was asked if I wanted Coca (cocaine for you innocent children) about every twenty seconds.  And was offered sex and blowjobs every 10 seconds.  Here’s the kicker the most I would have had to pay for a BJ was $5.  So, my drunk ass decides instead to take this hooker to the convenience store and tell her I’ll buy her whatever she wants for the cost of two blowjobs (haha, $10).  I shit you not, she ravaged that convenience store to find the best deal on everything. I never knew how much chocolate a crafty whore could find for ten bucks.  In retrospect that was qutie the great decision, I paid her off so that she didn’t rape me and make me aids infested.  I finally couldn’t take it anymore.  I was trying to be nice and wait for the guy to finish his business, but he was just taking way too long.  Oh yeah, and I’m still wearing a suit, the pimps probably thought I was trying to show them up since my suit retails for more money than they make in a week.  I’m still baffled I didn’t get jumped.  Picture me, drunken dumb ass in said suit standing on street corner talking to multiple prostitutes and their pimp.  Hmm, not smart.

I finally left hell and had to try to find my way home.  Unfortunately, some crazy random guy offered to walk me to some train station because he didn’t have any cab numbers (no cab numbers, yeah right).  So, we get to the train station and there’s no trains in service and it looks like this station’s been out of service for years.  By this point I’m beginning to get a little creeped out.  And then he goes and offers me to stay at his place, since it was conveniently nearby now.  Seriously, all that’s going through my mind is, “what the fuck is happening to me tonight.”  First, I’m getting offered blowjobs by hookers, now random strange dudes are trying to have me sleep at there place.  God, throw me a fucking bone here.  I’m sure the guy could clearly tell I was struggling and thought I was an easy target.  Fuck that, I ain’t shacking up with no random dude.  So, then I just kind of decide to run away. 

By this point I’m finally so frustrated that I just throw my hand up in the air and walk around hoping some cab will see me.  As fate would have it, there’s no taxi signs anywhere on this car that pulls up, but by this point I’m desperate.  He didn’t have a meter, so I asked him how much it was gonna cost.  He tells me like $80 for a $30 cab fair.  So I tell him to fuck off.  And he almost killed me getting off the main road to pull over to kick me out.  So, this cab driver kicked me out of his cab after driving only two blocks.  Thank the lord those two blocks brought me back into downtown or I think I’d still be lost.  I finally get home around 5 and only get a couple hours of shut eye.  So, to recap I dealt with angry stippers, overbearing prostitues and a gay man trying to ake advantage of me.  I’m so happy I escaped sexually unscathed.

Side Note 75: What old men can do is reminisce and tell me stories about my dad.  Those never get old.  They told me about my dad’s 30 year birthday party, oh my god, I’m proud to just be his son.  I have a lot to fucking live up to.  Kept hearing how no one could drink with them ever.  My dad and my uncle were rivaled by none.  I think I’m filling those shoes quite well.  I can’t wait until my little brother or sister fill my uncle’s vacated drinking shoes.

I’m currently driving across the country in Denmark.  As I’m typing I’m crossing the world’s second largest bridge which connects the island that Copenhagen is on to the main land and takes about fifteen minutes to cross.  I’m not much for sights but this is quite spectacular.  There are train tracks that run parallel to the road along the whole bridge.  And what’s really cool about it, is it’s not your conventional upside down U bridge, instead halfway across, it connects through a tiny island.  Time for the stories from Denmark.  The last week of my life passed faster than the liquid that left my ass every morning.  The reason for these shits is clearly because for the past two weeks I probably haven’t had a meal with less than a hundred fat grams, which doesn’t even bring into account the alcohol consumed.  People commented less and bitched about the articles from what I can see.  Sorry for just trying to help pass the time while I was gone.  Hopefully these stories can help make up for them.

Saturday – I was so fatigued after my couple hours of sleep the last night.  Not to mention the fact that I’d been pretty much drunk 8 straight days and 10+ hour work days each day.  I’m actually quite excited to relax tonight and head back to the states on Tuesday. 

For the first couple hours of dinner I said like 10 words because my body was so worn down.  In retrospect I think just relaxing for those two hours was almost like a form of meditation resting me up for another long night.  Once I snapped out of my meditation I clapped my hands and said alright, let’s do this.  An employee of the company said he had never seen anything like it.  I went from dead to alive. 

See, I had been partying with all old folk for the past week, but that night’s crew included many younger guys.  I had been looking forward to this night for a while and knew I had to show all of these younger guys what I was all about.  While in my coma/meditation I continued to drink at a regular person’s pace, a.k.a. not like me.  But, after snapping out my first order of business was buying a bottle of tequila.  Once that was on the dinner table it was time to go to work.  Out of our party of 14, I was able to convince about 10 people to take at least one shot.  Including both of these Japanese customers we had taken out.  Haha, the Japanese that could be a story on its own.  They were some new customers we just acquired at the furniture fair.  So, we offer them to come out to dinner with us as kind of a thank you for the order.  They knew no Danish and some English, so it was an adventure.  As part of there Japanese customs, I think they are taught to never say no.  Which, is a big mistake when your drinking with my dad and I.  My dad unintentionally gets them drunk, I intentionally get them plowed.  They consumed a solid 10-12 beers, 3-5 gin and tonics and 2 tequilla shots within a four hour time frame.  Considering they both had 100 pound frames they were beyond gone.  By the end of dinner they could barely move and one of them just kept repeating ‘I’m so fucking drunk’ and used the f word every other sentence.  Naturally we just throw them in a cab before heading onto the bars. 

Six people out of our dinner party decide to continue on to the bars with me.  It’s weird, I’m the youngest one and the one who knows the city the least and yet everyone wanted me to lead.  Naturally, they’ve heard stories about me and know what my dad was like in his prime so I don’t blame them.  One of the younger guys had challenged me to some sort of drinking duel at the restaurant, it ended with him having to leave the bar within the first hour.  Slowly throughout the night each person continues to bail one by one.  Eventually I suggest when one of the guys was leaving to take my dad with because ever since I had convinced my dad to drink Tequila at the restaurant he had been out of his mind.  He was talking to every single person at the bar and causing me to spend way too much time babysitting.  Eventually it got down to just the three die hards.  We stayed until bar close at 5:30 at which point we moved on to another bar.  See, there are certain bars in Denmark that are only open from 5 a.m. to 10 a.m.  So, we went to one of these other bars with some girls we had met and finally depart at 6:30.  My second straight night of no joke hard drinking for 12+ hours.  I had to work the follwing day another 10 hours after getting about 5 hours sleep the past two nights, it was hell.  But, so worth it in retrospect.