Amsterdan.

I'm in Amsterdam this weekend! Talke and I got us some plane tickets and have come to hang out with her boy toy Mathieu, who I know from ad school. It's to be back in this ADORABLE little city. It's so cute! I swear, watching the outskirts of the city pass us by on the train ride from the airport, it's like a giant plastic train set utopia. It's clean and futuristic with bright shiny colors and freshly paved roads. And as you approach Amsterdam proper, it gets older and more dense, but stays cute. All these brick buildings squooshed up against one another, and you know they've been there for a thousand years (give or take 500). Spend some time around here with your eyes open, and you'll understand Walt's thinking behind Disneyland.

The plane we flew was a Fokker 50, and by plane I mean bus with wings. That shit was small and rickety. How small was it? It was so small, I caught claustrophobia. They have to evenly distribute the fat people. The seat belt sign stayed illuminated because it's impossible to stand up. We got delayed by a stiff breeze. No kidding, that shit was tiny. But the good news is that it got us where we needed to be, and we got two prepackaged sandwiches each on the way. Now that's livin'.

On our way from Centraal station to Mathieu's place, we did a little shopping, and Mathieu uttered these words: Dude, do you want to see something that will blow your mind? It was a rhetorical question of course, so we found our way to a book shop, and went to the section selling planners for school kids. Schools here start up in September as well, so stores are littered with back to school items and such, and there were twenty different styles of planners available. You know the ones - a spot to write in your schedule, lots of room to write down your appointments, finished in bright kid colors for your kid's brightly colored kid lifestyle.

But remember, we're in Amsterdam, where sex is viewed in a slightly more progressive light than, say, all those red states where nobody masturbates. Mathieu handed me this. It's a day planner for kids called Starfucker. And I'm not making this up. It was right next to day planners with cute designs and exotic cars and sporty themes.

Money quotes:

Fuck me, I'm famous.

VIP: Very intens penetration [sic]

I never fake orgasms
only with you

There's a new bitch in town.

Your place or right now.

A few planners over was one featuring a sexy blond woman posing in various positions with a giant sausage. Pardon my American prudishness, but this is insane. Mathieu and Talke back me up on this, and it's not like the French and the Germans are known for their skittishness when it comes to the horizontal mambo. Needless to say, I bought Starfufcker, and I'm sending it to Elizabeth Holt. If she can handle Cockolada, this should be no problemo.

My friend Julia is funny.

Yesterday Austrian Julia said she was going to the movies in the evening. Apparently JvM does this thing where if you go to the movies on Tuesday, they'll pay for the ticket because Tuesday is "family day" at the movie theaters. Nice.

So I saw her in the kitchen this morning and I asked her what she saw. She said Die Hard four.

ME: How was it?

AJ: It was very creative.

ME (surprised): Really?

AJ: Yes. I didn't know there were that many ways for a car to fly through the air.

That cracked my shit up.

Rant.

I'm sick of people calling Al Gore and the like hypocrites because they proselytize a low carbon footprint, but still use a lot of energy. They shout hypocrisy and sarcastically say Do as I say, not as I do, when really, they're missing the bigger point.

Yes, Al Gore travels from speech to speech in big, heavy, secure SUVs. He has no choice because a) he needs the protection and b) these overweight, inefficient cars are the only option. We let the auto corporations do whatever they want so they can maximize every cent of profit with no regard for the planet. There isn't a light weight, fuel efficient alternative that suits his needs because there's not enough incentive for auto makers to build one.

Yes, Al Gore uses three thirty inch computer monitors in his office. And the monitors he's using are a thousand times more efficient than old school alternatives.

One fabulous part about the new green movement is that it encourages technological innovation so that we don't have to make drastic lifestyle changes to protect the planet. Pissing and moaning about Al Gore isn't going to help as much as pushing companies to create and innovate.

Think seat belts and airbags. Good ideas, right? Yet the auto industry had to be dragged kicking and screaming into making those innovations happen. They whined about bottom lines and how it would kill their business, they lobbied the government until they were blue in the face. They did the same thing to keep fuel efficiency standards low, except here they were successful.

But what a load of horse shit. Here's what I say: What kind of pussy ass company are you running? Work hard and make a good product better and shut the fuck up. We should be able to drive big cars and use the computer equipment we need, and we will if these ridiculous corporations would stop whining and get to work doing what Americans do best: innovating.

Silly

I went across the street to the other JvM building today to get the good coffee, and I got to talk to my friend The Lovely Ms. S. We did the how-was-your-weekend exchange, and when it was her turn, this is approximately what she said with a totally straight face, without missing a beat:

I went to visit my aunt to help her. She lost her husband a year ago, and now she's starting to die. She's an alcoholic, and we had to set up her will and sign her up to be an organ donor.

It's this kind of straight forward, no bullshit rhetoric that makes me really appreciate the Germanosity of German people. I've seen this sort of thing before; it usually goes something like this:

ME: What do you think German person?

GERMAN PERSON: I think it totally sucks.

ME: Well okay then.

Why mince words? Let's deal with reality right here and now. You go girl(s).

Anyways, the other thing I found interesting about this whole conversation was the alcoholic who wants to donate her organs. Organ donation is as noble an action as any other, but I'm sure there are health restrictions. For example, if you're a non-smoking, non-drinking athletic organic food type who spends your life meditating, massaging, and yoga-ing, then I'd imagine your organs would be more sought after than those coming out of an alcoholic, chain smoking prostitute with herpes and a bad attitude (not that The Lovely Ms. S's aunt are any of these things). But I'm sure that the number of people needing an organ far exceeds the number of donations, so it's probably a take-what-you-can-get sorta thing.

But who gets the alcoholic liver? Do you have to be an alcoholic to receive it? Does it come with instructions?

Care and maintenance for your new organ: Thank you for installing this high quality, second-hand human organ. Please note that due to its alcoholic nature, you'll need to drink like a fish to keep it healthy. We recommend large quantities of box wine and vodka.

That would be a fun label to see hanging off of a shiny new organ. Though if I had to drink to get a liver, I think I'd prefer to kick the bucket.

Attn: Bike Nerds

This little photo tour of Koichi Yamaguchi's workshop is fantastic. I love it for the same reason I love VH1's Behind the Music - it show's you what it looks like behind the scenes.

Makes me want to jump on Spanky and ride away... in fact, I think I will! The weather is perfect today - sunny and still. FINALLY, after a month or two of constant rainy and gray. We all thought summer would never come. Now hopefully it'll last a few weeks... Like, say, though September.

Reality Distortion Field

With no iPhone here in Europe (rumors are T-Mobile will be the carrier, and it'll be here Octoberish), I have to live my geeky fantasies vicariously through others via the internet. I was just reading an article by Farhad Manjoo, a techy writer living in the Bay Area who's written some great stuff for Wired and Salon, among others, and this one thing really jumped out at me...

And one more thing: It's $600! I'm not used to treating my cellphone with much respect. I throw it in my bag, I flash it around in public, I don't think twice about slipping it in the security tray when I'm going through the airport. The iPhone alters that calculus of risk. When the thing in your pocket is worth half a month's rent, you feel yourself constantly on alert.

Holy crap is SF expensive! When six hundred bones only gets you about two weeks of living, you know you're living in the whacky reality distortion field that is the Bay Area That and the live show at Trannyshack. Rim job on stage? Why wouldn't you?

Hamburg is one of the richest cities in Germany, and generally considered quite expensive. For a room in a two bedroom apartment, I pay €355 (about $500) per month, and that includes all utilities. When I lived in San Francicso, a similar sized room (granted, it had a big closet with mirror doors - fancy!) was $700 plus utilities. Poor Farhad is paying $1200. It's a fabulous city, but that's a lot of rent. To think that you could buy two iPhones per month... well, it's the rent that makes me queasy, not the iPhone.

Sup.

when i grow up...
Originally uploaded by ricstefano

MAX: Daddy, what was life like before Photoshop?

DADDY: It was totally lame, son.

Random bits of whatever.

1. I wrote this during a recent bout of dating frustration. It's my way of mocking the whole process, and I think it's kinda funny:

Dan, i've reviewed your request with a summit group of my closest friends, and after a thorough examination and exhaustive research, we've compiled this list of 142 reasons why a relationship with you could be a heart wrenching disaster five to ten years down the road. Though potentially pleasurable in the near term, we see an inevitable breakup that would cause short-term heartbreak and might lead to long-term psychological damage and post-traumatic dump disorder. We apologize for any inconvenience. Your request for "a drink, or a maybe a movie" is hereby DENIED.

In my thirty one years, I've gotten a lot of those responses.

2. This guy I know has breath that smells like the inside of my colon. And what's worse than that? He's a close talker. He doesn't just tell you something, he leans in to do it. Which is great way to establish intimacy and make your audience of one feels special. But it's definitely sub-optimal when you have to postpone breathing every time he does it.

3. My partner Ricardo is having his baby today! His frau Anika is doing most of the work, of course, but they're in a hospital right now huffing and puffing and making the baby come out. It's a boy, and his name is Max.

We were having a meeting today and at the end Doerte asked if there was an update. There wasn't, but Henning brought up an interesting question: why is it that when a baby is born, we always report the length and weight? Why not eye color and hair color (if applicable). Doerte, who's had one of her own, said that it's because you can tell a lot about the baby by those two numbers. Bigger means more healthy, small could mean trouble. Also, size tells you how hard the birth was... though I'm not so sure about this one. The whole process is so HOLY CRAP! painful and traumatic that I can't imagine that there's much of a difference between passing a watermelon or a honeydew.

Quote of the Day

If you let me fist your mother, I'll let you fuck my sister.

Oh yes. That is good stuff. Especially because the quote comes from our lawyer. And it's also a good lesson in how to piss off a Chilean (or any other South American, I'd imagine). This particular example caused the Chilean to chase the German out of the kitchen.