Camping or something
The boiler in our building broke. Or blew up. Or died. We have had no hot water for the past two mornings. Fun! Last night, after fixing food and throwing it in the oven, I jumped in the shower figuring this would be the warmest I would be today (doing stuff in a hot kitchen and all).
Good lord.
Cold showers are not a lot of fun. I was thinking it might make a fun video to watch - people taking cold showers. I am sure I would be a laugh riot to watch with my face grimacing and by arms and legs spastically reacting to the cold water every time I got under it.
I felt like I was camping or something.
Germany
During my college days, my best pal George invited me to go to Europe with him and a friend for about a month and a half. It was actually a pretty cheap trip, because he has family and friends all over Europe and when we weren't with them, we camped which costs all of $3 a night sometimes.
We were in Munich I think. It was chilly, as it sometimes is in the middle of the summer. And we had to take showers, and our towels were still wet or something and we had to dry off using wash clothes. And it was already chilly.
I really really cold.
Oh, if you can handle pitching a tent, camping is the way to go. We only ran into one other American at the camp grounds the whole time we were there. It's much cheaper than hostels, and you can sleep late if you want. Or sleep all day.
To be honest, I had never camped that much before then, so I was a bit of a novice.
In hindsight, we needed a bigger tent.
The American we met
So, this journal is all about my dumb trip to Europe? How did this happen - I was supposed to tell you about the guy I see every morning.
We were staying at a campground in Versailles. It was fine. We were in the campground's little day room and were eating our breakfast and there was this girl there, too.
She says,"Oh, you guys are American. Me too. Where do you live?"
Bobby says, "we live in NC"
"really, I used to live there - which city"
"Asheville"
"no way, we I used to live in Asheville"
"Really?", says Bobby, "what part of town?"
"North"
"me too"
We are beside ourselves.
She asks, "which street did you live on"
"edgewood"
"No way, me too! Which house?"
"219"
"which room was yours?"
"the back one, next to the big tree"
"that was my room, too", she says.
We are all stunned and then start to think she is playing us for suckas (of course, this was the early 90's so she would be playing us for "suckers"). She and Bobby sit there and compare notes. She can knew all the neighbors and details about the house. Her family had lived there before his, and then she moved to Connecticut.
They talked about the bamboo in the backyard.
That's the story of the lone American we met in a campground.
Billy Idol
It's fun when you live in a city of 8 million to see the same people over and over again. Every morning as I walk to the office, I cross the intersection of Madison and 32nd (I think that's right) and I see this guy and girl waiting at the bus stop. They both have that classic earlier 80's british blonde punk rocker look - he's got the Billy Idol hair thing down perfect. They are also wearing leather and all black, and they are waiting for the bus.
Almost everyday I see them.
And this morning it got me started thinking about people who have this very narrow image that they present. Like this guy is just, 'blonde pseudo punk rocker'. It's like he can't do anything else. He can't not spike his hair. He can't wear shorts. He can't wear sneakers.
How annoying would that be.
But, you know what I mean. We all know or have met people who have this singular fashion thing going on - they are 'something'. A rock guy, fashion slave, skater guy, hip hop guy - that is their constant look and they can't do anything else.
What a pain.
I am proud of my 'non-commital smartass wanker' look, BTW.
random quote
her body weight to booby weight ratio is 1:1
