Monday, November 5, 2007

The Biophysicist (say it with a lisp or don’t say it at all) gives out some free dating advice…

Lucky2bAlive: Hey – are you still in France?

TheBiophysicist: Umm...Hello. Yeah, still am.

Lucky2bAlive: I'm making you proud.

TheBiophysicist: Why? You finally gave up on women with Terrettes?

Lucky2bAlive: I had a date with a 27 y/o Latin chick.

Lucky2bAlive: ::Shakes fist::

TheBiophysicist: Congrats!

Lucky2bAlive: I know her through work.

TheBiophysicist: Anything "special" happen with her?

Lucky2bAlive: Yeah, she made it very clear to me that she wants to get into my pants.

TheBiophysicist: Did you feed her tacos or eat them from between her legs?

Lucky2bAlive: Neither. Both. I don’t know.

TheBiophysicist: Was there a two for 1 special on her bean burrito...Did she come with rice and beans or nachos?

Lucky2bAlive: Neither, but she was very forward in showing her interest in me, which, I’ll admit, caught me a bit off guard.

TheBiophysicist: Good...

Lucky2bAlive: There’s only one hitch… She has a kid.

TheBiophysicist: I was going to guess that…after all, she is Latin.

Lucky2bAlive: {Sigh}

Lucky2bAlive: I swear she said she's just looking for a good time. We know each other through work. She wants us to keep it on the d/l.

TheBiophysicist: Oh, so she’s ashamed of you.

Lucky2bAlive: No.

TheBiophysicist: You're not the Chipolte sauce in her enchilada?

Lucky2bAlive: She gets hit on by lots of Firefighters, and she finally said yes to one.

TheBiophysicist: What made her change her mind? Does she have trouble seeing? Or smelling?

Lucky2bAlive: I am not a normal firefighter. She's interested in my whole NY attitude and my non-Cuban treatment of women.

TheBiophysicist: When you say normal, you mean you didn‘t remove the hose before entering prison or the dick after?

Lucky2bAlive: But they (Cubans) have the wandering eye…either way, I found a Latin chick who wants to get in my pants.

TheBiophysicist: Well-done com-padre!

Lucky2bAlive: So, you’re still in France. When do you come back?

TheBiophysicist: Whenever I can swing my dick around my shoulder…

Lucky2bAlive: Cute. All right, give me a call when you get back.

TheBiophysicist: Try to get to second base before I get back.

Lucky2bAlive: She does have a huge rack. Nice ones…

TheBiophysicist: And from now on please refer to her privates as cheap Tex-mex food. Latin girls love that!

Lucky2bAlive: Um. No. Thanks for the advice though. I'm gonna just keep doing what I've been doing.

TheBiophysicist: Ah! A man with dignity and low expectations.

Lucky2bAlive: …and when she doesn't expect it, I’ll stick it in her ass!

TheBiophysicist: Good plan…keep it away from the baby hole.

Lucky2bAlive: I’ll just wrap it up and thrust, thrust, thrust...

TheBiophysicist: The baby hole is just like a bated fishing hook…

Lucky2bAlive: All right now, be safe. Don't get deported, arrested, or made into a man bitch.

TheBiophysicist: Once she has you...you're all but reeled in. Plus, abortion isn’t worthwhile, hangers just don’t give baby kebabs enough time to sweat out the fat.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Famous Flamboyance and Mushroom Mania

On Saturday, October 27, my friend could no longer handle the heavenly city of Amsterdam. It had simply sucked the life right out of him. He left mid-day. Ironically, but perhaps most appropriately, my adventure begins with his departure.

I entered a coffee shop on my way to my favorite square – Leidesplein. I relaxed, I smoked, I played crossword puzzles. As I’m deciding whether the hint for nine down, "Danger", is supposed to get me to write "terror" or "muslim", I hear a smattering of United States English from the coffee bar. I lift my head up from my book and notice a large man with blond hair speaking to 2 of his friends. I think to myself surely, the only body with greater impact on tidal currents and global weather conditions is the moon. Luckily, this guy had blond hair so I could distinguish. Something other than his supermodel colored hair and physique intrigued me. Something was familiar about this man. I immediately tried to figure out how I knew him. My father? No. My mother? No. My imaginary friend? Maybe, but probably no. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes – the only thing I come up with is that I’ve definitely seen him before.

Coincidentally, he and his friends moved from the bar to the table adjacent to my own. I decide to bite. "I’m sorry, you look so familiar to me. Are you from Miami?" He responded that he travels regularly to Miami, but that he lives in Los Angeles. His friend turns to me and says that his friend has done some television. I drop the investigation. His friend proceeds with "Actually we were about to ask you the same thing. We thought we recognized you from porn? Have you been in any?" I laugh of course (though I should point out that I was the only one laughing) and respond "not to my knowledge, but I guess it’s possible." They inquired as to whether I could or would do porn. Obviously, I could do porn. A monkey with a banana rammed up his ass could do porn. Clearly, I told them yes, but I demanded handcuffs to be on the set and on demand. For the next hour or so, the four of us start talking about our travels, the wonders of legalized marijuana and the hazards caused by violent babies. They bite! All standard food for thought accompanying pot smoking and drinking English tea. Eventually, my curiosity about this man’s identity got the best of me. I asked what he did and how I recognized him. He proceeded to give me a list of Broadway shows, movies and tv programs that I may recognize him from. He is a comedy writer, a Broadway actor and the subject of two movies, Get Bruce and Laughing Matters – Bruce Vilanch. His most notable television appearances have been at the Oscars (he written several of them) and Hollywood Squares (he also wrote lines for the square actors for all the years he was on set).

The day was far from over. Famous people don't slow me down. My rather boring experience with mushrooms the day before led me to buy more mushrooms. I would have resisted, but why bother? I ate a box of Thai mushrooms. My experience on them began quite normal and happy, but the lights and sounds of the Red Light District is no place for the ephemerally insane. Blue, red, yellow, transvestite – how does one begin to take it all in? Does that slut behind the window specialize in blowjobs? Does the slut in front of the window expect payment? Is that tree supposed to move? Does abortion require a clothes hanger, or is it just recommended? Do snozzberries really taste like snozzberries? All questions I ignored in favor of my new hang-ups. Shiny! Blue! And my personal favorite, Midget whores! It was horrifying!!! I had to escape immediately. I went towards my hostel. No, maybe I should subdue the effect of the mushrooms by eating. I turned back to find food. Oh wait, I can't interact with people - I'm fucking crazy right now! To the hostel! Back and forth I went, changing my mind every few blocks. I paced the red light district for at least an hour. Finally, I decided to go with my original plan…to the hostel.

Since I couldn’t book the hostel in advance, I got a left-over. My room had ten beds and only one key for all ten of the patrons. The key would remain at the front desk at all times. I entered the reception area, and told the receptionist that I was staying at the hostel. She asked me what floor I was staying on. I didn’t remember. I guessed two or three out of a possible one, two or three. I was right! It was two. I went up the stairs, down the whore-house smelling hallway and entered room 206. Where was I? The room had people in it now, my bed looked different and unlike earlier there was beer all over the floor. I walked to where I remembered my bed to be. It didn’t look like my bed. Where were the clothes that I left there? I sat down. I got up. I exclaimed that I was mad on mushrooms and that I may indeed have the wrong room. I left. I marched downstairs and again directed my attention to the receptionist. "Jeff – so nice to see you again. How can I help you this time?" How many times did I visit her? I was not and am still not really sure how many times this scene took place. Oh well…"Can you remind me what room I am in?" "It didn't change, Jeff. You’re still in room 206 – Jeff, I think you may have been smoking too much." I told her it was probably something like that and proceeded back to the room. I climbed 3 flights of stairs, wobbled though the hallway and knocked my entire body against the door. It was open. Good thing because my momentum may have caused me to fall down otherwise. "This IS my room! And that IS my bed! Why the hell is my shit on the floor?" I ignored pursuing this information. I was way too nuts to conduct a non-psychotic conversation. For gods sake, there were voices in my head. I couldn't even confidently decided if someone was talking to me or whether it was me talking to me. I picked up what I could and fell asleep. An indefinite amount of time later, I awoke with about 4-5 people in the room. I got up, walked to the door and let someone who had been knocking in. I sat back on my bed. Stood up again and threw up mushrooms in the middle of the beer-drenched floor. "Hey mate, why’d you throw up?" The only girl in the room exclaimed, "Are you going to clean that up, because I want to get up soon?" Good luck, bitch! "Newsflash everyone - I am on mushrooms. And even if I wanted to clean that mess up, I can’t…there’s nothing to clean it with." I went back to sleep until the drug’s effect was gone. Welcome to Amsterdam!

Monday, October 15, 2007

The Germans, the French and the Jews

"SHOOTIN DA JUDEN" the people scream everywhere I go...shaking their fists in the air and spitting in disgust at the black hats and the blacks. Whether I'm in Lille, Paris, Berlin, Munich, Antwerp and home (mom has a nervous tick) it is all the same. Luckily, I look as goy as a bacon cheeseburger deluxe (with extra bacon and cheese...and more bacon), because if I did not they would be sure to beat me, mock my foreskinless penis and throw tax statements and bills at me. Tax statements are bound with paperclips...they hurt! I will never truely grasp the heart of anti-semitism, but I know that a simple, innocent and quite friendly conversation amongst twenty-something year olds can turn into a veritable bloodbath in moments after the word Jew is uttered. To some, it seems like the equivalent of smacking a lion in the face with a wildabeast carcas...it just pisses them off. How dare you use the J word!!! Mind you that other words or phrases like, chink, spick, fuck, shit, ass, pussy, butt-mongler, horse-fucker, cunt-face, Muslim, crackhead, tushi-toucher, poop-pusher, african-american and niggeraide (it's watermelon flavored!), are not only acceptable but comical to most. This is an outrage!

Last weekend, for instance, I was conversing with some bomb pedaling Muslims when I happened to let slip out the innocuous fact that I am a Jew. They immediately started speaking amongst themselves in Arabic and collectively decided to tell me that this was "not good". I couldnt believe it...it's not good!?! Its great!!! Not only am I a chosen person who can personally and privately interact with the almighty God, but I am a great financial planner by blood. I could help them with their accounting! However, much to my surprise they didn't care at all about conversing with God or accounting - instead they told me that they hate Jews because they are evil and they want to take over the world. Luckily, I was ready for this apt arguement and responded immediately, accurately and articulately that it is they who are human rats that feed off of the accomplishments of any society that is willing to include them. AND in cases where they are their own society they fight amongst themselves and accomplish nothing. On an unrelated note, I added that I talk to the devil and I was told to sacrifice Muslim children so that our cover for world domination (bagels, cream cheese and lox) would remain intact.

666
Damnation is eternal
Pain is fleeting
Burn your children to show your faith
To the great lord of the dead
Damnation is eternal

(Jews are trained to say this everyday until we get bar or bat-mitzvahed...then we talk about lox)

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Shady Shitting

I arrived in France not even a week ago and discovered to my surprise a regression of the French people. They have elimanated, the clearly unecessary components of a toilet - the toilet seat and toilet cover. Now understand that last year, they had already elimanated toilet paper - a discovery I first found out the hard way when I arrived in Lille. Clearly, I came prepared for this retaliation against civilization, only to come to this new development - no seat or cover. Why, you all wonder? Perhaps to avoid the temptation to sit! How does one shit? Well I have discovered two approaches to this ancient and yet still ever so baffling task. Position number one is to to balanace myself on the rim of the toilet. However, even for my fat ass the toilet is quite large and my underdeveloped ass muscles have some trouble maintaining the required balance. On an aside, I fell in twice already (once before). Position number 2 (this one is number 47 in the Kamma sutre) is to straddle the toilet - standing of course, and shit with my leg raised 35 degress in air (I measured the angle with a protractor). The major obstacle here is that there is a potential to get shit on your upper thigh. THe minor obstacle is that wiping is far more difficult. I learned this years ago when I would shit around the neighborhood and have to wipe my ass with parts of the local folliage. Can't make it home in time after school EVERYday for 7 years. Anyway, better than the alternative - shitting at school. However, what actually concerns me the most is not the current toitlet situation, but the future of toilets in France - and maybe the world. I mean if I come back next year, will they remove the toilet altogether and just leave me with a hole in the floor. And the following year, will I be expected to shit on the grass and drag my ass on the across the lawn to wipe? A quandry no doubt! The future of France is certainly a glum one. But what of all the places that draw from the influence of the French? Will they too spit in the face of technology and hygene? I grant you that the toilet has a confused history with no consensus on who actually invented it, though it seems to date back as far back as the Indus valley civilization (in current day western India stretching through the land of heroine and into Iran). Perhaps just the notion that it's not French was enough to set the trend in reverse. Maybe the toilet seat was elimanated to prevent people from sitting... or shitting. Maybe there was rampant ass diseases, like HIV, that plaugued the community and the only logical explanation was toilet seat sharing. Wear a condom people or better yet cover the seat with toilet paper before sitting. Perhaps its that spinning water makes them dizzy. I know it does for me - that's why I dont stare into the toilet anymore... I fell down a few years ago after I let a huge one loose. It was so big, I just couldn't resist seeing whether it would go down all in one piece or crack like an addict who could get his fix. I would tell you the result, but vertigo set in after about two turns around the bowl and I fell unconscience to the floor (the last moment I saw it - it was still one log). For those of you concerned about my fall...don't be. The toilet broke my head's fall... I think we just have to hope that other nations don't follow suit and that this does not become a world-wide trend.

Pooping with pride,
Jeff