Italy won the World Cup and everyone went completely crazy.

Here’s something interesting, unlike America, in Italy some kind of big event like winning the World Cup isn’t an excuse to go out and get completely plastered.  Everyone was out and behaving drunkly, ie, hooting, hollaring, throwing empty Beck’s bottles at 600 years old cathedrals; but no one was drunk.  All the drunk people, and those with beer bottles in hand, were American tourists whom you could also spot because they were wearing Italia jerseys en masse.

I also climbed The Leaning Tower today.  It was fucking scary.

At this point Ashley Herrera, #11 for the UCLA Softballs, is completely unstoppable.

In yesterday’s game winner, she scored 2 of 4 UCLA runs. Today, she topped off the weekend opener of the softball collegiate world series playoffs with a grand slam in the 5th, ending the game at 7-0. Note: this was after batting left handed for like 12 consecutive at bats and then switching for no raisin.
The smart money is on UCLA to win the entire shebang as no one can possibly stand in their way. Long Beach and some red team thought they had a chance. Guess what happened? They all had to sit on some kicked in asses on the ride back to Long Beach.

Safe.

Our super awesome jacuzzi spa with the eighteen jets and the lounger seat and the drink holders in the backyard has been fucked for like a year. It’s a pity, because it’s a super sweet spa.
I remember when it wasn’t super fucked yet, just hovering on the edge of fixable. That was on February 17th, 2005.

When I uncovered it today, it was a bio hazzard. When it drained it, it only like halfway drained and the rest had to be ‘bailed out. Like with a bucket,’ said the spa expert.

‘Fuck that,’ I said. ‘Can’t I syphon it out?’

‘How are you going to get all the air out of the hose?’ said the spa expert. ‘You can’t put your mouth next to that stuff.’

I’ve seen House MD also. It’s like my favorite show. So I already knew that I couldn’t put my mouth anywhere near that spa water. While invisible to the naked eye, diseases like Enciphilitis, Meningitis…lemme see…sleeping sickness I believe they also had on an episode of House. That stuff is everywhere.
‘Yea, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna use a syphon,’ I said.

Twenty minutes later while I was eating some popcorn and watching a Tivo episode of House, I was done draining the fucking spa.

This is how you make a syphon when you don’t want to use your mouth.

1. Take a garden hose and put the business end in whatever you want to drain. Holy fuck, but that’s not syphoning shit! That’s doing the opposite! I know that. Just do it.

2. Turn the water on.

3. Once you’ve got some hose power going (and make sure the squirty end is at the bottom of the spa/disease tank), turn the water off and quickly unscrew the garden hose from the spigot.

BAM! You’ve got yourself a syphon. Just keep the screwy end below the hosey end. And that concludes my presentation of why I am so awesome and great. Thank you for your time.

Ever since I ran the marathon last year, I’ve been saving all my pocket change with dates of 1997 in a special jar to purchase a CD of my marathon pictures for the ridiculously outrageous price of 80 dollars.

I finally reached my goal — and with some extra for the two day shipping even though the goods are data and would be easily downloadable from some kind of central server computing machine.

Just when you think Spamalot — the musical version of Monty Python’s Holy Grail — couldn’t get any awesomer, it does.

Over there is a picture of me receiving the Best Peasant Arthur Award during Spamalot on fucking Broadway. On fucking Broadway. You can see Hank Azaria looking awesome on my right shoulder and David Hyde Pierce looking pretty awesome also, in a sexually suggestive position in front of me. If you are a me noob, I’m the wicked awesome blur in the middle with hair of fire and a sweet fucking moustache domniating your vision like a karaoke supernova.

I’ll post more about this when I get home and can scan things and upload things on a real computer instead of a piece of shit Mac that has one button on the mouse so you pretty much never know what the fuck you’re doing or where you are or how many of megabytes you’re uploading to flickr for a dollar a minute at Kinko’s. Nice work Mac.

Lesson’s Learned:

1. Don’t ever trade tickets with me to sit with your wife ten seconds before Spamalot.

2. Always change white shirts before going to a play because you fell asleep on the plane after dying your hair and woke up looking like that guy Cheney shot all over your chest.

3. Never ever ever shave your moustache.

Okay.  Do you see that shit?  In the foreground I have a BB gun that I bought for my radical Halloween costume which I have some pictures of.  In the foreground there is also the small wooden grip of a fan chain that changes the speeds.  Sometimes you don’t want a gale force fucking wind in your face when you’re getting down — so that’s what that’s about.  It’s about the size of half an index finger or a Korean penis.  In the far background (Forty fucking feet away!) there is my desk chair.  You know it’s mine because there’s a catastrophic mess on the floor of the room.

With that BB gun…from that chair…I hit that fucking teeny ass wooden handle.

I am the last Starfighter.  Click the image for a bigger version.