Tag Archives: United States

A tale of two documents … yeah ‘documents’, it’s not all beer and boobs here

Posted on July 22, 2012 by | 2 Comments

Look I’ve been TRYING to do a play on the ‘a tale of two cities’ with the headline of this blog since the year of our lord 1935.   No clue why I picked 1935 but’ A tale of two cities’ is an awesome book and I’ve always wanted to play on that title.

Screw you start your own blog and make up your own headlines!

See it’s not so easy it is stupid face?

I’m sorry I got so gruff there and I’m sorry we fought.  Let’s move on past this dark chapter in ‘Had a few beers’, forgive me.

I became aware of the need to send a notarized document the wife and I had to send back to the U.S. sometime in June.   It was an email that said, boiled down, sometime during this process we’re going to have to, no shit, don’t delay, post haste, quickly now, send back a document that was notarized.

This image is here cause I felt like I needed three images for this update, no other reason. Well one other reason, it has a cute cat.

This image is here cause I felt like I needed three images for this update, no other reason. Well one other reason, it has a cute cat.

Also a hardy ‘screw you legal system!’, it’s not 1786 and no one is wearing corsets anymore in case you haven’t noticed.  I can send the gigabytes of data across the world with a click of a button but your retarded raised seal somehow is too important for all that.  My wife demanded during this process, which I’ll get back to in a moment, that we make ‘copies’ of the documents the notary had ‘notered’ (which isn’t a word according to … well MS word, I should said the notarized documents but this update is also complicated, SCREW YOU START YOUR OWN DAMNED BLOG STUPID FACE, sorry, sorry I’m calm again) but I fully realize that copies of notarized documents were as valuable as photos of copied coins, yeah sure it’s proof I copied coins but the coin is the point.

So my I hate the legal system rant aside and getting BACK to the fucking story at hand — I knew in mid, maybe late June that a requirement to send back quickly a notarized piece of paper was on the horizon.

And I prepared.  I knew where the legal office was, I even found out which floor held the notary.   This would be easy, this would be simple.  It would be with done with militaristic efficiency because as any pro knows amateurs study the tactics and pros study the logistics.

Okay I studied it through the bottom of a beer glass but I knew I could have this thing done and sent back pretty damned fast.  It wouldn’t be a challenge at all!  It was going to be easy.

One potential hiccup, if it came when we were planning to visit Italy, over the 4th of July weekend (subject of this update), it would add, ‘difficulty.’

If you’re a military scholar you are laughing.

Stop laughing I hate you.

I’m sorry I don’t hate you at all, why do we fight like this?

Okay back to the story, we were leaving for Italy on the 4th of July and of course the request, because of the time difference, came while we were sleeping on the night/morning before we left.

Still ha, I got you cold weird coincidence, in your face fates!   I had the document already printed out.  I’d talked to my friend Alex in Italy already about how I would execute the plan if needed and felt we had this shit down.  And we DID have a solid plan but it never included my epic hangover, Dagmar’s desire to spend 3.2 hours getting ready and the legal office breaking for lunch (stupid legal office).

Still though we got it done, we’re troopers.  Maggie drove us around, we got the document notarized, we made a pointless copy of the notarized document at my wife’s insistence and we went to (via mailboxes ect) the UPS office.

Me: Ma’am I need this mailed out with all haste, I need it in America as soon as is possible, spare no expense, whip the pilots if you must, these documents must arrive at the soonest opportunity.

Her:  we offer express service sir.

Had this been a pre-flight year, maybe like the year 1900, I would have charted a ship for the express purpose of delivering these documents.

Don’t believe me?  Read on.

Quickly, I need this document shipped to my beloved United States of American (Oh say can you see ...) and destroyed quickly, cost matters not!

I like how first it’s missing then it’s just fucking destroyed. When I called the WTF help line they were like, Oh it was in THE you’re fucked trucked, lemme connect you.

This was the 5th of July.  In my head I did the math, of course the documents would leave Italy that night, putting them at whatever hub they use in Europe that very night then off to the U.S. for an overnight flight and they would land on the 6th, a Friday. Then with a bit of luck, considering the weekend they would burn up in a fire-filled crash of epic fail.

Wait what?

Yeah somewhere around Philly they were involved in a traffic accident that either partially or totally destroyed (yeah, yeah totally destroyed, suck-it English majors) the shipment.   UPS was kind enough to inform me that they lost the document and then further explained that , “oh shit it was totally burned up dude and we had to mercy destroy it.”

I got this notification on the 11th of July.

Fuckers.

Big, deep breaths, the date the ‘powers that be’ needed the documents had been moved back.  They now needed them by the 25, which is still, as I write this in the future.  By then we’ll have teleporters and I’ll be masturbating like a monkey in a zoo cause the virtual reality will be so good by then that you can basically tell the holodeck, “I want a scene with five Blonde midget chicks, three normal sized brunettes and a blender  …”

Okay that got a bit out of hand, sorry.

Anyway the 25th is still like a few days away.

Aware of the importance of the documents, in awe of the fucking weirdness of “your valuable (to you) parcel was burned to shit message” I executed plan b, which consisted of me asking my wife for advice.

Me: What the fuck, what the fucking fuck?

Her: Calm down.  Let’s just do it again.

Me: The fuck?

I just, I’m sorry I’m crying here, just need this to get to America. WHY IS THAT SO HARD?!?!?!?!?!

Her: We are going to send it again via the U.S. post office, priority mail.  And stop saying fuck.

Me: great fuc …okay.

And off we went to the Notary for part two.   Interstate road fire be damned, FUC … I mean to hell with you UPS, we’re retired SOLDIERS, we’ll use the trust worthy and time tested United States Postal Service ‘thank you very much’.   They rode horses across AMERICA to deliver mail, they rock and you don’t and I was a fool to ever trust your fire-ridden trucks to start with.

Her:  look just send it espress mail, It’ll be there in like a 4 days tops. We can also track it, this is easy.

Me: I’m off to be your hero and mail this IMPORTANT DOCUMENT vial the U.S. Postal service, long may they live, do you think they’ll use an actual horse to deliver it like the pony express did?

Her: Express mail, Todd.   Do I need to do this?

Thus I was off, the first plan had met with a failure that burned but this plan was fool fire-proof.

I marched smartly into the post office and quickly noticed, or was noticed by, one of my wife’s fellow co-workers, she summoned me into her line.

How can I help you she asked, I need this to get back to the U.S. as soon as possible, it’s really important, I replied.

What is it she asked?

A power of attorney, I told her.

HOLY SHIT, she said, this has to go first class and for the love of god we need to add a return receipt.

I agreed, because what the fuck do I know about mail and yes, first class sounds important.  If you fly first class that’s good, if you stay somewhere and are ‘first class’ it’s great.

This first class sounds better than even espress … my wife’s such a cheapskate, damn her.

Me:  Yes, yes, (orgasm voice) yes!  Put me on this first class thing, where the hell have you been all my life?  Return receipt, can I have two? Insurance, hell the first one burned up, 1 million dollars please.  Track it while its standing still ma’am I care not!  Add them all please, damn the price, levy the fines.  Whip the men that are charged with moving, we don’t have a whipping fee? What is wrong with American these days?

Her: So that’s like ($20 bucks) and its ‘first-class, return receipt’.

Me: I have done my family a fine service, honor has been done this day and the gods have …

Her: Here’s your receipt dude is there anything else?

Me:  Well I had more to say about the honor thing …

Her:   I need to help the next customer.

Me: but honor demands I …

Her: NEXT!

Which led to me proudly explaining to my wife how I had sent the document extra insured, if I die honey you get like a billion bucks and it’s first fucking class love, how cool is that?

“I told you EXPRESS mail,” she said

“But your friend said first class, what the fuck am I a postal expert now?”  I replied.

“No but I am, you idiot.”

Had I a dunce hat, I would have worn it.

Adding insult to injury I sent a bottle of wine Italian oil to a friend in Chicago two days earlier and it got there first, it got there in like three days and I sent it “I don’t care when it arrives” mail .  I guess I just gave up the ending.   Yeah the super important document got there.  But not before I considered, honestly priced in fact, flying my wife back to the states on a 2-day see our daughter but mainly deliver the goddamn document (notarized for the 3rd time mind you) to the powers that be.

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Four easy things you can do to help Sgt. 1st Class Walter Taylor. Also boobs and beer.

Posted on July 1, 2012 by | Leave a comment

This update is all about four easy things you can do to help Sgt. 1st Class Walter Taylor because here at www.hadafewbeers.com we’re all about the charity. And beer. And boobs.

For anyone that needs a recap about Taylor’s situation here’s the link, because finding new ways to describe the same situation, over and over again, ain’t fun and we like fun here …

So let’s hit it with some easy stuff you can do to help raise money for Taylor’s defense.

1. Donate, duh.

You can go here. It literally takes three minutes. Click the donate now link, select the amount you want to give (for anything over $30 you get a free bumper sticker), add your personal information and bam, you’re a great American.

Seriously, you’re a great American if you do that. Look giving to charity IS a good thing I think we all agree but most charities have a marketing campaign and/or a marketing staff of professionals. Taylor has me, retarded blogger that makes sauna boner and boob jokes, and someone named Diane in Texas that I’ve never met. Hey Diane!

2. You can repost this AND I don’t mean just on Facebook (but totally repost

Hey FB friends, you should totally give money and read this dude’s blog. It’s about a wounded warrior AND boobs.

this on facebook and ask your friends to do that same!)

I doubt it will come as a shock to anyone that the internet consists of more than just Facebook and porn. An amazing four percent of internet content isn’t even related to Facebook or pornography; I know that fact because I just made it up.

Rick, yeah Army guys vs. Dinosaurs on Rick’s BMW hood, frequents a BMW forum. I know this because Rick once told me.

Rick: “Yeah I was on the BMW discussion form and one of the members, BMWBONER09, told us how you can totally reprogram your key to automatically deflate the tires dude.”

Me: “Rick you are so fucking weird.”

Actually that’s a pretty typical exchange between Rick and I, but I digress.

Point is if you frequent an online forum of any sort, mention Taylor’s plight there. Whether it’s the World of Warcraft’s “DROODS RULE DUDEZ” forum or the “Hello kitty super fun time forum” that you frequent, bring it up there … this is all about getting the word out.

Word of caution though I did it on two forums I frequent and got my shit handed to me by some of the more liberal, skeptical posters. I’m a big kid though and I can take it. And by ‘take it’ I mean I cried, literally, like a little girl.

Finally if you do this, post a comment here or send me an email (oliveritay@gmail.com) … I’ll lend a hand if I can.

3. Do something local

HAVE A BAKE SALE! Okay I’m totally fucking kidding on that one, don’t have a bake sale, unless you REALLY, REALY want to have a bake sale and in that case knock your socks off. What I mean by local though is ask a local organization to consider doing something to help Taylor. Ask your local VFW or American Legion if they would consider helping. I’m a member of bowling team, because I hate myself, and I’m going to ask the league for permission to solicit donations. I figure who feels more sympathetic toward wounded veterans facing stiff legal fees than bowlers? Shocked that didn’t come to me sooner!

What this blogs about boobs AND wants money for charity … this is the best idea since the romans put the christians and the lions in the same event. I also stole that, totally, from Black Adder.

4. Give us suggestions about how we can raise money

Look most of my blog entries here are about Dagmar outwitting me, beer, Dagmar outwitting me, boobs, Dagmar outwitting me and boobs. Also I like to talk about boobs, so there’s that.

Point is that there aren’t any cute photos of kittens and puppies that need loving home or videos of vicious 12-year-olds ‘attacking’ grandma ala Karen Klein (I just rolled my eyes) there’s just a brave soldier facing serious charges and a crapton of legal bills.

But if you have an idea about what I, or anyone else, could do to help raise cash lay it on me (oliveritaly@gmail.com). When I started blogging about this less than $2,000 had been raised and today, less than a week later, it’s up to almost $5,000. That’s because of you all! Awesome everyone, have a beer on me! While still short of the goal that’s $3,000 in less than seven days.

Post a comment here or send me an email, let me know what your idea is … Mine is a contest where the highest donation totally get a beer and sweet boobs picture.

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Another plea for a hero … support for Sgt. 1st Class Taylor starts with us.

Posted on June 26, 2012 by | 2 Comments

First things first, thanks for reading. The last 24 hours have seen more traffic here than any other period in this blogs short history. More as in thousands more. Thanks for the hits, thanks for the shares and thanks for giving. Sadly that’s where we’ve come up short badly. Today his fund has almost double yesterday’s amount but it’s still far, far short of it’s goal.

We’re talking of course about Sgt. 1st Class Walter Taylor’s legal defense fund and efforts that are underway to help him raise $35,000.

This update is all about how you can donate (hint: that’s the link) and why you should donate. There will be, sadly, none of this blogs usual shenanigans – Taylor’s situation is far too dire for jokes. I mean that, its tough for me to say, I think almost anything can be a joke. Not this time though …

The good news is that even if you live overseas and have an APO mailing address you can STILL donate. In the address line where it asks for your city type in APO AE and in the line where they ask for your state, select New York and viola, donate away!

Pretty painless really, easier than purchasing on Amazon or iTunes so please, I beg you, head there now and donate whatever you can. Also again, repost this on Facebook and twitter and where ever else you find an audience because as you know or will soon know the recipient of this money is an American hero.

Why should you donate?

In an effort to fight out what appears to be politically motivated criminal charges SFC Taylor, wisely, hired a civilian attorney. Rather than risk it with a U.S. Army appointed defense lawyer, who may or may not be up to the job, SFC Taylor in an effort to save himself, his family and his career sought out and employed a civilian attorney well versed in military law.

This is an excellent move because, as you know, he did nothing wrong on July 21, 2011.

SFC Taylor, a combat engineer, and his platoon, set out on a road-clearing patrol that day to ensure that the roads in his area of operation were free of roadside bombs. They literally went out looking for bombs that day and every other day during their tour of duty. It was their job. They found the largest roadside bomb any of them had ever had the misfortune of encountering. Seconds after the devastating blast they were engaged by small-arms fire and during the course of that fire fight a black sedan, unbelievably, drove into the middle of it all. To the seasoned vets of his platoon this alone warranted serious suspicion that the vehicle’s occupants were enemy forces. Civilian vehicles just don’t drive into an ongoing fire fight.

This bizarre twist of events, coupled with the fact that during the ‘fog of battle’ several members of the platoon reported seeing shots coming from the sedan led to some of the platoon’s vehicle mounted heavy weapons engaging the vehicle.

After the firefight Taylor and three other members of the platoon followed a wire that had been used to detonate the road-side bomb – insanely the wire seemed to lead directly to the now silent black sedan.

SFC Taylor’s Platoon leader, just moments before he started following the wire, warned him that there were reports of insurgents using vehicles as bombs. The black sedan, he and everyone else thought, was obviously another bomb intent on taking his life and the life of his men.

As he followed the wire he came as close as 10 to 25 meters from the vehicle something else inexplicable happened. A figure dressed in black exited the vehicle from the rear-passenger door and ran toward the vehicle’s trunk. Reports differ but, by all estimates, Taylor has between 3 and 10 seconds to make a decision. Was the person friend or foe?

Think about that … 3 to 10 seconds. I imagine it’s something akin to this:

1 second: The door flies open.

2 seconds: A foot emerges from the door

3 seconds: A person’s lower torso emerges

4 seconds: The person is out of the vehicle, facing you and they are covered in black

5 seconds: The person begins in your direction and toward the trunk of the car

6 seconds …

You get the idea. Fearing for his life and more importantly fearing for the lives of his Soldiers Taylor shot and killed the cloaked figure only to discover, to his horror, he’d killed an innocent person. That in and of itself is more punishment they he deserves. It’s very unfortunate that it occurred but that it occurred is neither criminal nor careless – protecting yourself and your platoon from what would to any sane mind appear to be a suicide bomber is clearly the correct thing to do.

Here’s that link again, just in case you missed it. Any little bit, $5, $20 whatever amount you feel comfortable giving will help. If it’s $30 or more they’ll send you a bumber sticker that says I support SFC Taylor, how cool is that?

This isn’t going to be the last update as you can likely guess but I hope it’s the one that pushes his defense fund over the $10,000 mark. Finally, post this, reblog this, link this far and wide.

One final thing, I feel like I need to add a disclaimer. While I am retired from the U.S. Army and am currently employed as a Department of the Army Civilian the words here and my urging you to donate in no way reflect an official position by anyone or any entity besides me. This blog, and the updates regarding this case, are my opinion and should by no means be construed as endorsment by the U.S. Army or the U.S. government.

You know just in case you were wondering.

Thanks.

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Hookers vs. important stuff … yeah I’ll take the hookers too.

Posted on April 27, 2012 by | 4 Comments

Quiz time!

Put your books, phones, computers and iPads away … wait keep those last three so you can read this.

Look I only have an hour before the Preside … I mean the boss shows up.

Look I only have an hour before the Preside … I mean the boss shows up.

What was going to be one of topics of discussion in Columbia before every Secret Service agent in Columbia was fired for failing to pay the going rate for a ‘Dirty Sanchez” with foreign hookers?

Was it:

A:  How much is too much for a quality Columbian hooker?  

B:  Homeless puppies in Central and South America how do we solve the crisis?

C:  A plea from Central and South American nations asking the United States to reevaluate its drug policy?

If you answered ‘A’ I want to party with you.  If you answered ‘C’, you’re like me and god help you.

I knew about the conference before the scandal broke.   I mean I read about the agenda and thought okay this will be good.   I knew about it not because I’m a drug junkie hoping U.S. drug policies are relaxed but because I’m a news junkie.  

And like most junkies my addiction pisses me off.  The media itself, when I boil it down, doesn’t piss me off.  ‘We’ piss me off.

The media isn‘t left, right or center.   They’re not.  They’re a business.  They’re there to make money.  The stories they cover and the ways they are covered are designed to attract readers, viewers or on the net, clickers.

They’ve also figure out that they have to cater to our idiocy, our base instincts and our lack of a desire to hear about anything more interesting than; shark kills swimmer, pretty white kid is missing and of course SEX!   

This is why the news is “filled” with stories about Secret Service agents banging hot Columbian prostitutes and not, wait for it, WHAT THE FUCK the conference was about in the first place.

Which story, at the end of the day, is more important?   Does the fact that some the secret service agents banged hookers really matter more than what our president discussed with the leaders of counties south of us? 

If you picked the first one I hate you and will soon fly to your house to personally punch you.

That’s why I love news but hate everyone, including myself.  

Before this story broke it was INTERESTING!  Okay it wasn’t exactly interesting, but it was relevant.  I mean it mattered.

I have a little problem with news apps! Also with bothering to read emails or listening to voice mails.

I have a little problem with news apps! Also with bothering to read emails or listening to voice mails.

  For all I know Venezuela gave Obama a “we’re sorry we’ve been dicks” Hallmark card, Raoul Castro offered to have open and free elections and Mexico announced it just discovered a shit-ton of oil and that whole illegal immigration problem the GOP keeps bitching about would soon be over. 

Okay the last one is actually bad news for all involved but still it’s better information than a pissed off ‘woman of the night’ losing her shit in the hallway when some jackass refuses to pay her the agreed upon price.  Also honey, get the money first.   I thought that was in the hooker rule book.

The fact that men, with strong ‘type a personalities’, on business trips, fuck chicks that aren’t their wives is hardly news.   The fact that the people that travel a lot, with the president mind you, whore around barely registers on my radar as news.  It shouldn’t happen, and we should vet them better I agree, but it’s a sidebar news story at best. 

What did the leaders of all these nations just south of us discuss?  That’s the story.

You know the things that might have an impact on our lives.

It’s the pretty white girl missing/shark just attacked a person story … really it is. 

And those suck.  They always suck.  They have the nutrional value (news wise) of a twinkie. 

They also taste like twinkies, they are twinkie news items.   They taste good, they are always fresh but they are really, really fucking useless.

Natalie Halloways = “News Twinkie”.

Natalie Halloway didn’t matter.  You know it, I know it and that drunken bum on the corner knows it.  For that matter that homeless guy with the “great pipes” didn’t fucking matter but at least he was treated as feature material and not news. 

At the end of the day, when either Natalie Halloway’s disappearance or the Secret Service’s hooker breakdownapoloza , rode the high tide of the news wave, we missed out on important news. 

I wake up at 6 a.m. and watch, in this order, Fox news followed by CBS and NBC news.   Know what? They are exactly the same.  

They are exactly the same because you, me and the people next to us suck.  We love pointless news.   What was the big story before the attacks of 9-11?  Yeah, it was shark attacks off the coast of Florida, which are, if you read a bit, the most non-news event in the world. 

Seriously only about 20 people die a year from shark attacks.  You’re more likely to be fired as a U.S. federal employee than killed by a shark.   Maybe that’s why it’s on the news, rarity.

Does it matter really to the greater good if a pretty 18-year-old white blonde girl is missing? Not at all.   Does it matter?  Should it be reported?  Is it important?  Yes of course but does it deserve top story coverage on every news network for weeks, months and (Madeleine McCann) years later? 

Hell no!

And it’s always, fuck you I’m right here, ALWAYS pretty white girls.    Okay maybe occasionally it a white child or a very attractive non-white person but if the media is so damned liberal why are they so racist and/or misogynist when it comes to missing persons.

Also I’m getting older and REALLY bitchy.  

Here’s fun.   Open Google, select the news category and type in missing white girl.   Scroll down, drink in the results.  Now type in, “missing African American girl”.  Scroll down and realize that fuck the media doesn’t give two-shits about the left or right but only about what will get you to stick around so that the ad next to the story they did about that says “white teeth in just 7 days!” will get them the ad revenue they crave.

Charles Taylor’s conviction will make NBC, CBS, ABC and FOX’s news cycle tomorrow morning when I wake up.  It might even be the top story.   But by Monday it’ll be forgotten and I’ll still get to hear all about which Secret Service Agent resigned and which prostitute just signed a reality show contract for American TV. 

I’ll watch it or I’ll read it and it will be all my (and your) fault.

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Five reasons why living in Germany is just f’ing weird …

Posted on April 12, 2012 by | 2 Comments

While making fun of America is fun (and generates hate mail, added bonus) I don’t want anyone to have the impression Europe, specifically Germany, is without its quirks.

So let’s jump right in shall we …

The music is bizarre.

Just your typical German pub

Just your typical German pub

Its 5:30 p.m. on a Friday and you and your co-workers are meeting for a ‘let loose some steam’ beer at your favorite German pub.  One minute, while waiting on your friends to show up, you’re grooving on some cool, never before heard pop song on the radio desperately hoping your soundhound application will let you know who the artist is and the next goddamn minute it’s fucking 1975 and Paul Anka is ‘having my baby’ and I’m having a shit fit because why the hell would those two songs ever be played back to back?

Welcome to European radio.

German radio seems, to my American ears at least, to make no damned sense at all.  One minute you’re listening to newest, coolest song ever and the next minute you’re in the middle of a Twisted Sister revival.   

Pick one goddamn type of music German radio station and STICK to it!

The toilets are well …

Before I wrote this part about German toilets, while planning the next few paragraphs in my head, a little voice said, “are you SURE that’s the reason they are designed that way?   Yeah we’ve always been told that’s the reason but do we KNOW that’s the reason?”

Let me explain.

Poop talk follows and I’m sorry.

German toilets are designed with a small shelf that literally catches your poop for, and I’m not kidding, health reasons.

Okay I understand that’s a wiki stub and I understand what the note “citation needed” means but if anyone has a different explanation I’m all ears. Maybe those shelves are for books, papers, printed out blog posts from this site so that critics can say, “I literally shit on what you just wrote!”   Maybe it’s so when … look it’s called a poop shelf for a reason.

And at a certain level it’s another example of those damned clever and practical Germans.  That’s really kind of brilliant.  

A good friend of mine, an American that utilizes German health care system, said he loves his relationship with

well you wouldn't want to put your car keys on this kind of shelf

Well you wouldn't want to put your car keys on this kind of shelf ... photo swiped from this very cool blog The Gringa Trail is pretty funny

his doctor.   It’s very personal, he explained.   The doctor knows him so well he’s even, according to my friend, able to tell when he’s stressed out or just isn’t feeling that well. 

My doctor, who I also like, starts a stop watch I think when I arrive. 

Doctor: What’s the problem?  (clicks stop watch)

 Me: My toe hurts 

Doctor: Broken toe

(Tape, tape, tape)

Doctor:  NEXT!   New clinic record bitches, less than 45 seconds!

Point is German health care may indeed allow for conversations about poop formation, color and for all I know location on the shelf.

German Patient:  I’m not pooping center poop shelf anymore.

German Doctor: What, this is terrible!

German Patient: I know!

German Doctor: Poop misalignment is a leading cause of … okay who are we kidding, you want a few days off right.

German Patient: shit you’re right

German Doctor: Fine but let’s leave the profanity out of it.

As clever and practical as that may be sometimes my American brain takes over I want to poop into a 50 gallon drum where I will never me confronted face to face with what was, three hours ago, a great bratwurst and 3 beers.

Do I need to tell anyone here what having poop underwater vice exposed to the air does for the, shall we say bouquet? 

If there are no closets, what the hell do gay Europeans come out of at the age of 23?

I live in a four bedroom, hell if you want to get a bit creative five or six bedroom house.  That’s right America, while sucking off of your hard-earned tax dollars (take that Kat … scroll down to the comments) I’m over here living in a fucking mansion with servants, a Mitt Romney inspired car elevator and

… okay no I don’t

While I’ve heard that the reason European houses don’t, as a rule, have closets is that the ‘closet is considered a room for tax purposes.   I doubt that’s true but the point is their houses generally don’t have closets, not the way we think of them at least.

So how many bedrooms do I have?  Two.  I’ve lived in 3 houses in Germany and one Italy, total “no shit that is a closet and not a room closets” in those houses?   None.

actually it looks pretty cool ...

Actually it looks pretty cool ...

So what happens?  What do you do?  Those extra rooms, they become the closets.   One, likely two rooms become places where all your clothes go.    That and you buy the European version of a closet, a shrunk, a chest or just a giant against the wall thing.  Which again on some level makes sense, you go to a store and you buy an item that goes up against the wall of your house and you pick one that makes sense to you.   But I gotta say the American system just makes SHIT easier.   

Kitchens and light fixtures

We American military and government civilians living in Europe lead sheltered lives here*.  We do.   People can and do, sadly, spend entire tours here venturing no further into German culture than their drive to work.    Like any part of the world, except that one place (you know the one), Europe is steeped in culture and filled with mystery and awe behind every twist and turn of the road.

Mysteries like why the fuck Europeans insist on raping the kitchen and every light fixture in the house when they move. 

European kitchens are modular kinds of things, unlike our ‘fuck you I’ll get moved with you remodel or burn me down for the insurance money’ American kitchens.   If you rent, or buy , a German house you start with a blank room.  Hot and cold water hook ups coming in and a drain hole in the wall for water going out, electrical outlets and that’s it.  No countertops, hell nothing even to hold up a counter top.    I mean I get taking your fridge, your dishwasher and if you’re really pleased with it your stove but literally EVERYTHING? 

So if you’re putting in a modular kitchen, think this through, it’s likely purchased from Ikea and where do you think on the durability lies on a scale of one to 10?  If you guess somewhere around a knob falls off if harsh language is used around it – have a beer, you’re right.

Yes, yes there are gourmet European kitchens and people that have KICK ASS kitchens but the crap we end up renting usually has no drawer that ever closes quite right and the counter height was designed for use by midget dwarfs.

Don’t get me started on light fixtures.   Europeans when moving take them when they move.   I have negotiated with at least two previous tenants about purchasing their light fixtures and discovered that men left to buying light fixtures don’t really give a shit.   The conversation goes this way, “and I paid 5 euro for that light, and 6 for that one and oh boy we got crazy in this room, that fixture is 10 euro.”   It ended with me handing over 50 euro because I really don’t want to spend a day buying and hanging up new light fixtures either.

*We’re sheltered here because we generally have access through our base housing office to landlords that understand we’re retarded/lazy Americans and want our kitchens to have counters and our rooms to have light.     

Everything is FUCKING expensive

The average cost of a pint of beer in the United States $1.83, the average cost of in Germany $3.37* and HOLY SHIT THAT’S A LOT OF MONEY! 

Putting aside the discussion of which currency is stronger than the other and ignoring the general idiocy of people like this model, one euro is at the moment of this writing is worth about $1.32.     Meaning something that costs €100 ends up costing $132.00 is good hard American cash.

Then there is VAT.  The Value added tax in Germany is 19% which goes toward such programs as …

(left for three hours to play Skyrim)

Join my guild

Join my guild!

Stupid Grey Beards, those guys suck.

Value added taxes are used to subsidize poop shelves and doctor patient discussions of poop for all I know.   Point is crap here is expensive. 

Yes, I know, I know you can and should use a simple and easy to use VAT form to avoid the tax**.    But for a purchase under like $100 it’s not worth it.   I tried it at my favorite bar.  The tab was €46 (or $60 with VAT no tax saves me an amazing $11 dollars). 

Me: Can I use a vat form?

Hans: Fuck you Todd, €60

Me: That’s like 11 dollars!

Hans:  Do we have to do this every time dude?  Just pay the tab.

Me: Well then FUCK your tip

Hans: Dude stop tipping in Europe, you look like a douche every time you do it.

Me: I hate you.

Hans: See you tomorrow?

Me: Of course.

 

* The German beer verses U.S. beer price, while fun, was gathered through a ‘shit ton’ of retarded Google searches … your own price may very

** VAT avoidance IS easy in Germany.  In Italy you have to leave your first born child at the store, drive to Rome (which is a bitch from Sicily) sacrifice a goat and then two-years later your purchase arrives at your door, after you’ve moved.   They also keep your kid.

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‘Merica … F’ Yeah! HOLY CRAP America its food, booze, anger and food — deep fried thoughts from Baltimore

Posted on March 22, 2012 by | 16 Comments

You can put anything you want into the Chocolate Fountain ... food, drinking cups, fingers ... not your wiener though; I found that out the hard way.

You can put anything you want into the Chocolate Fountain ... food, drinking cups, fingers ... not your wiener though; I found that out the hard way.

Living in Europe for the past ten years might, just might skew your perspective on things.  Although I have had a few chances to come back, mainly for work, nothing beats visiting family – for showcasing how bat-shit whacky this place really is.   Coming back to the U.S. for work means, hotels, meetings and hotel bars, boring.  Coming to spend a week near Fells Point in Baltimore means distilled crazy, and I love it.    Next week we head to upstate New York where I hope there’s nothing more to make fun of than cows and well cooked food – Baltimore it ain’t.

Holy shit the news isn’t lying.    Has 33 percent of America spent the last ten years in a non-stop donut eating contest?  Fat jokes are easy to make, easier when you’re skinny sure, but easy none the less.   I can’t say I was shocked by the overall weight here but I was shocked when visiting, all you can shove down your food-hole franchise, the “Golden Corral.”  Having made the rookie mistake of ceding that night’s dinner choice to a 17-year-old (‘Let’s go to the Corral, they have a chocolate fountain’ – should have been a clue that bad decisions were afoot) we set our GPS to deep-fried mistakes and off we went.

I want to call the Golden Corral a war-zone but that is very disrespectful to war-torn cities across the world.   Gluttonous, filthy and all around ‘gross’ seem more appropriate descriptions but they lack the ‘holy fuck are you eating MORE’ eloquence I was hoping to convey.  

Fine, I’m being uptight prick, but dear lord the this plastic dinnerware, heaping plates of half eaten food and the micro layer of something best described as ‘sticky’ that covers every surface (including I think the food) made the meal interesting.   One wishes they had a sociologist friend alongside that could help define or at least attempt to explain the ravenous herds of people vying for a plates full of pan fried shrimp covered in turkey gravy (I’m only sort of kidding).     Sadly, I think I can explain it without the use of a doctorate.  American’s like to eat, they like to eat NOW and every dish can be made better by deep frying.

I confess I’m very used to being the drunkest person in situations where no one is drunk at all.   I think nothing of having a beer(s) at the airport bar at 9 a.m.   I have no issue navigating a check out line in Germany with a head full of beer.   Eyes forward, greet the check-out lady, hand her the cash, bag the purchase and get out.  It’s really quite simple.   

Here in Baltimore, I’m an amateur.  At 1 p.m. on a Tuesday while the girls shopped for groceries I ventured across the street to pick up a six pack of beer.   Beer, wine and liquor can only be purchased in liquor stores here for some reason.  I was going to spend some time making fun of America’s draconian laws regarding liquor until …

While the young lady behind the counter and I had a pleasant discussion about the location of Heineken I was accosted by what I’m sure is the drunkest person in the world.  First, after stumbling into the store in what I was sure was the start of some brilliant street comedy skit, she corrected my greeting the clerk, informing me (with breath that would kill a lesser man) that she was not to be referred to as “Ma’am” but as “Mom”.    The 50-something African American Mom could barely contained her look of disgust and I can’t blame her.   The drunken 30-something Caucasian lady would have been (correctly) drown at birth if “Mom” had her way.    Then the drunken lady notices I’m purchasing cigarettes and loudly, but in the drunk loudly-slurish way, asks that I provide her with a cigarette.   This, and it’s obviously testament to my lack of dealing with drunk skills, seems like a way to sever the conversation so that the clerk and I can continue our discussion of the weather.  Cigarette in hand my drunken entertainer then informs Mom that I’m also going to buy her a 40 ounce … I’m not making this up, a 40 ounce. 

I loved every fucking second.

Dear America.  For a country that seemingly has the automobile as a centerpiece of its culture you fuckers can’t drive.   No one, that includes you reading this right now, bothers to signal a lane change.   Everyone passes on the right and that’s because there’s always some shithead in the passing lane doing exactly the speed limit.   Any attempts to merge are seen as a direct threat to the other driver’s manhood, patriotism or sexual orientation.    In fact most every maneuver that doesn’t include driving forward at a constant speed is met with a string of profanity that has taught me several new swearing lessons.  For instance I did not know I was a “rat-shit bastard fuck stain”.

You Baltimore, you’re the guy; right there you’re the guy.

Point is, for a nation that literally forces you to drive to the bathroom, the ‘rule of the road’ seems to be, ‘fuck you, go around.’  Look Germans are funny for a lot of reasons, driving isn’t one of them.   There are, to be sure, asshole German drivers.  I cannot count the times I’ve been passing a truck on the autobahn only to discover mister, my penis is too small

Not a single f-bomb was thrown during this drive

Not a single f-bomb was thrown during this drive

so I bought a Porsche, ramming the hood of his car up my ass while vigorously flashing his light in an attempt to let me know that he would like to continue driving at a safe and reasonable 310 Kph and I should kindly complete my lane change.  But it really is the exception and not the rule.   When German’s merge lanes they use the zipper effect meaning that if you’re in the lane being merged into you let a car merge in front of you and the driver behind you does the same.    Generally it works out for all parties involved.

Not here.   In a quick and simple trip to the mall I watched at least 5 different drivers fly into spittle flying, fist shaking rages of self-righteousness all due to some dickhead that had the balls to (without signaling) pull in front of them.  You need to watch it fatty; you’re ticker’s already working overtime keeping the blood pumping around all that girth.

 Okay when the hell did fucking pajamas become acceptable attire anywhere outside the home?   Even the endangered slim and attractive American female seems to have embraced this crime against the eyes.   Pajama bottoms, baggy sweatshirt and flip-flops?   Sign me up for the ballet, I’m ready to go!   At the airport rental car counter there was one young lady, who was either pregnant or a typical American, whose choice of apparel that evening seemed to say, yes I am fat and here’s a direct look at my fat.  Yes sir, I’m keenly aware that my shirt does not only fail to cover my ample stomach but that it literally screams look at my fried-food educed blubber. 

I used to love, literally I would become giddy and start to giggle, to make fun of the American Forces Network.    I’ve devised hours and hours of ways I could make fun of their command information commercials espousing those of us overseas to be good neighbors, pick up after our dogs and to not rape women.

No more.

Here’s my apology AFN:  I’m truly sorry from the bottom of my heart American Forces Network.  You provide quality programming to those of us living overseas at little or no cost and your commercials are generally (if not comically) correct, raping women is bad, turn down your goddamn stereo and pick up your dog’s poop.

I mean it.   My step daughter has something called ‘on-demand’.   Which, with a simple push of a button, shows you every television show ever made, anywhere in the world, in any language and at any time. 

No, no honey go on without me, I've got to catchup on every damn show ever...

No, no honey go on without me, I've got to catchup on every damn show ever...

Look, I know I can come off as a prick and saying things like “I don’t watch TV” makes it worse but fuck, I think I understand why America is fat (aside from deep-fried everything).   America is fat because holy fuck there’s ANOTHER show I want to watch and it’s on right fucking now.   Such wonderful television adventures as ‘Mob Wives’ ( what’s wrong with that woman’s mouth) to every single ‘I want to be famous show’ is available whenever you want.  No waiting until next week, no waiting until its 7 p.m.    It’s on right fucking now so grab that extra large bag (available at Walmart) of chocolate flavored Doritos and have a seat.

Sure making fun of one’s country is fun but man did I forget some of the good stuff.   America is convenient.  Anything you want, at anytime you want it is available with minimal effort.     I was informed at a clothing store that if they didn’t have the size of jeans I needed they would happily deliver them to my house.    They would literally call the other stores until they found the size jeans I needed and then DELIVER them to my house while I ate Doritos watching Tosh.o reruns using ‘On Demand’.  If you decide you need a chainsaw, lubricant and a blow up doll at 3 a.m. on a Tuesday (and who hasn’t)  you can get it here, no questions asked with minimal effort.  

While dinner at a restaurant in Italy can, and typically does, take four or more hours German is not much different.   Waiter service isn’t bad it just not speedy.    Here my beer is barely drained before the server is sloshing down another frothy cold one and asking what else I might desire.  Service is beyond good, the scientists studying the hadron collider should look to American restaurant staff member if they’d like a better understanding of how objects react at or near the speed of light.

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Homophobic Master Sgt. to Stars and Stripes, ‘teh gays are gross!’

Posted on March 8, 2012 by | 3 Comments

Corey thinks this photo makes baby Jesus cry ...

Today in the European edition of the Stars and Stripes newspaper a Master Sergeant serving in Afghanistan offered readers this wonderful piece  (link). While the letter’s to the editor section of Stars and Stripes has long been both the equivalent to an internet fight among 7th graders (Is not! Is to!) it’s also typically filled with wonderfully retarded opinions. Normally I chuckle and read Pearls before Swine but Corey Wade really caught my attention.

Dear Corey,

How’s the hatred of the gays going?  Seems you’re boiling over in fact with hate. I’d watch the blood pressure; maybe write Limbaugh or Reverend Jones a letter to provide a little relief. From reading this letter you seem to have gotten yourself into a good old fashioned bible- thumping rage over it. That’s awesome, good job … wait a minute.

Did I just read that right Corey? You’re a master sergeant in the U.S. military? Holy shit dude you’re likely in charge of people! I think you might even be the kind of person that the Sergeant Major of the Army talked about recently. The kind he talked about getting rid of I mean.

Okay, because I like you, I’m going to help.

You see in November of 2008 this guy was elected to be our president. I know, I know you didn’t vote for him but the majority of us did and he won. Democracy is a great thing isn’t it? One of those things we both have in common, you and I Corey, is that we love our country. Anyway one of the things he promised was that he’d repeal don’t ask don’t tell.

A lot of people, myself included, thought the whole DADT was kind of like segregation. You don’t think segregation in our armed services was a good thing do you? Good, I hoped not. That aside, our feelings (yours AND mine) really don’t matter (well yours don’t, I’m retired). See the guys and gals in charge (some of them might even be gay guys and gals) said, with the President’s permission, “You can now serve openly if you’re homosexual.”

End of debate.

Now here’s where my heartburn comes with your lovely little hate-filled rant. I really only give it a 6 on a scale of 1 – 10 for general hate-filled shitgasims but for utter bullshit, you’re off the charts Corey. Have a lollypop, good job.

I assume you attended the repeal of DADT Training, I did and it was a hoot! Maybe you had to go to the bathroom when this bullet statement was on the screen.

The Army maintains:

  • Zero tolerance for harassment, violence, or discrimination

I assume you missed it because you wrote: It’s bad enough to publish articles that cover the debauchery of homosexuality.

Were I your subordinate and gay (I’m neither), I’d be more than a little hesitant about approaching you for anything/everything. You’ve basically told me that I’m disgusting and or a sinner. I’m guessing it more of an ‘and’ not an ‘or’ but that’s just a guess. What kind of leader does that make you?  If your subordinates know you think their sexuality makes you disgusting and a sinner I mean.  Do you think that might call into question your ability to take care of your subordinates? I think so, but I also think bible-thumping, narrow-minded bigots in positions of power should be shouted down at every opportunity.

You see Corey, your opinion, no matter how backwards, hateful and wrong, doesn’t matter.

If I, in 1948 had said Harry S. Truman was a fucktard and the ‘the blacks (and let’s be honest, no one said blacks)’ shouldn’t serve next to whites you’d rightfully think I was a racist scumbag and an idiot to boot. You, my good friend, are a bible thumping homophobe … thou doth protest too much!

Besides being a shitty leader by letting your personal beliefs get in the way of your duty you’re also, very fucking wrong. Making fun of statements that are just chocked full of bull-shit is always more fun (to me) than picking on someone’s belief in an invisible man in the sky.

While the bible may or may not say homosexuality it wrong, we all know there’s a lot of whacky stuff in there.   How do you pick and chose which parts you’re going to follow and which parts you’re going to ignore?   Have you let any cattle graze with other kinds of cattle lately? Know any Buddhists? I think you’re supposed to kill them. I propose at your next bible study session you ask the group what the official stance on sitting on a seat that a menstruating woman has sat on is, do you have to kill her too or what? That book is just full of rules, a lot of them made sense (maybe) when we were still living in mud huts but they have no place in today’s society. 

Finally some factual fun: here’s this little gem from your letter.

“The vast majority of military members I know do not support homosexuality.”

Nobody’s asking you to go to a gay-pride parade here buddy. You can even keep your narrow-minded bigotry if you

Gay people obviously have more fun than straight people at parades ...

really want to but now you just have to keep it to yourself. Vote for the guy that opposes homosexuality, Santorum I think his name is if you must.

While it may be true that most of the military members you know don’t support homosexuality (a statement I frankly doubt) the fact remains that 70% of today’s service members DO support the repeal of DADT. You’re echo chamber of religious fired hate aside; most of your fellow service members have joined most of the rest of the modern world in their opinion of the decision.

Corey, the exact same argument has been made every time rights were extended to a group that was previously disenfranchised. I think most of us agree that having slaves is a bad thing and that allowing people of all races and genders to vote is a good thing.

One final thing about your letter Corey:

“America is in a deep moral slide and this country will pay the due penalty of its errors.”

Corey, if this is true, what are you doing in uniform? Aren’t you in essence helping this decline? Corey you’re very vocal but you obviously don’t have the courage to do anything substantive, like most cowards.

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Holy crap I’m naked and so are they!

Posted on February 2, 2012 by | 6 Comments

This this photo I found on the internet? It proves Germany is cold, cause the internet never lies!

Germany is a cold, wet, cold, freezing, cloud covered, cold, testicle shrinking, shivering, cold country. But it has really good beer and food so; you know it’s a balance. I’ve lived here with Dagmar since about 2006. I think I could go on and on about Germany and Germans. Little quirks, annoying things, stuff that is just bizarre, stuff I wish more Americans did (myself included) … it’s obviously its own country with its own identity and culture.

This is about the German, or at least a part of the German culture that has absolutely no aversion to nudity. Let me refine that a bit. At German saunas people, both male and female, mingle nude and it’s not as weird as you think. Or it is as weird as you think but they don’t care, they’re naked.

As any ten year old with the ability to set Google’s safe search option to off likely understands, beaches in Europe are generally topless. Actually I can get rid of the qualifying ‘generally’ I think. It seems safe to say that on any given beach in Europe, you will find topless women (and men!)

Someone recently asked me why I was still here in Europe. The above paragraph is the reason. It’s topless beaches and beer. I can drink a beer and see lots and lots of boobies. And I like beer and boobies and together … well it’s a little like heaven.

But back to saunas. Germans, and a lot of people I guess, think there are health benefits to sauna going. I have no clue if they’re right or not but I do know I sort of enjoy the sauna, more so in the winter when the thermometer is pegging out at a high in the 20s.

This is what i will deal with for an eternity when I die ...

The place I’m most familiar with is a water park named, oddly enough, Miramar. If you have kids I think you’ve been to a similar place. It has a giant wave pool, screaming children, water slides, screaming children, inner tube rides, screaming children and a snack bar/real bar occupied by, you guessed it, screaming children.

Why the hell would I go to a place infested with screaming children you might be asking because apart from the kids play area they have an extensive clothed area that consists of hot pools and quiet rooms and, most importantly, they have the nude side.

The Nude Side.

NAKED PEOPLE EVERYWHERE!

As you enter the nude side, the entrance to which is only sorta, kinda hidden from the clothing side (walking to one of the clothed pools you’re basically looking directly into the entrance) you are immediately accosted by all shapes, sizes and ages of nakedness. Although it’s the ‘line in the sand’ where you are expected to remove your bathing suit and stow any items like keys, wallets or what have you in lockers there are, unsurprisingly a lot of people well, naked.

After disrobing, because the Germans have a rule for everything (but this is a good rule) you’re expected to shower before entering the actual sauna and swimming area. Interestingly, or not, 99% of the sauna goers don’t just walk around naked, they have a towel or more often a robe on between the saunas. This percentage drops considerably in the warmer months but still the general rule is if you’re not in a sauna or in the pool, you’re covered up.

To sum up the ‘textile free” or nude side, it consists of five indoor saunas, two tubs (one warmish and the other BONECHILLINGLY cold) two ‘quiet rooms’ and a (cause it’s Europe) snack bar/restaurant area devoid of any screaming children.

Outside there is a pool, four smaller saunas, the ‘Sauna Maximus’ (a HUGE sauna) and another quiet area.

Inside the non-special saunas, people come and go as they please. Some like the Jagersauna outside are super hot, others like the aroma sauna have aromas like lemon or of straw.

Inside these sauna’s everyone sits from toe to buttocks on a towel and … wait.

HOLY CRAP I’M NAKED!

I think this is the point where I need to address the naked part because some of you are thinking this is very weird, pervy or just fucking insane. You’re all wrong and you’re all right. Taking off your bathing suit is weird for the first time, for the first five minutes. After that you start to realize that the atmosphere in a German Sauna area is about as sexy as a hospital visit. For a moment you think, HOLY FUCKING JESUS I’M NAKED AND SO IS EVERYONE ELSE!”

But then the thought ends because well, everyone is naked. You quickly realize that all men have a penis and when not erect it looks like, well, a non-erect penis. All girls have two pronounced breasts and a vagina. Strip away (ha-ha!) any hint of romance, lust or sex and again it’s as sexually stimulating as a medical text book. Besides there is a lot of looking straight ahead, lots of eye contact. No one, you can be reasonably sure, is checking you out** because you really don’t stand out, even though you’re naked.

Guys reading this might be thinking, but aren’t there some hot girls, hot naked girls?

Yes there are but again it’s simply not a sexual environment. I confess I have thought, wow nice body but in a sea of bodies it’s akin to saying wow that’s a nice tree, in a forest.

For the record I’m rarely actually in a forest because it’s very hard to get a beer there unless you bring it yourself and then, what the fuck are you doing drinking in a forest retard? A bear is going to eat you.

Every hour, on the hour, a special group sauna is held in either an indoor sauna or the ‘Sauna Maximus’ outside. These group saunas are where it turns weird. Until now the saunas are basically sparsely populated (never difficult to find an open spot). Now though it turns into a packed sauna where you will sit, naked (on your own towel), shoulder to shoulder and leg to leg.

HOLY CRAP I’M NAKED WITH ABOUT SIXTY OTHER PEOPLE, ITS HOTTER THEN HELL AND SOME IDIOT IS MAKING IT HOTTER.

You have to get to the group sauna’s a good 10 minutes early or you’re going to have to fight for a seat, you might even be turned away. Contrary to what I said in the paragraph previous to this there’s no actual skin to skin contact but it’s close and yeah you do bump into the person next to you. If you just said ewwww swapping sweat with strangers oh nooooes! Yeah it certainly happens but you shower immediately afterwards so …

It's like this, only a lot bigger and with a lot of naked people. Also there's no guy in charge of making even friggen HOTTER!

At the scheduled time the sauna master comes in, closes the door and the fun begins. No shit the place has people that are in charge of the sauna event, its Germany after all. Usually there is a quick introduction, some joke I’m not likely to understand and then the buckets of water are poured onto the rocks cranking the heat up to eleven. The sauna master, clothed mind you in shorts and a teeshirt, then starts to wave a towel over his or her head while walking around the sauna, this is an effort to crank the heat up past the mystic eleven and into the unknown twelve. They are successful. It gets up to “HOLY SHIT THIS IS HOT” temperatures in a short amount of time. Then they usually do some sort of gimmick. Two of my favorites are the honey sauna and the salt sauna.

In the honey sauna they, no shit, I’m not making this up and I’m not drunk, they pass out small cups of honey which you are then expected to rub on yourself. If you never seen a room full of naked people vigorously rubbing themselves with honey while a clothed person twirls a towel over their heads you haven’t been to a German sauna. I don’t need hallucinogens I’ve rubbed honey on my naked body with total strangers. The purpose of this is to attract insects and or to give your skin the ability to sweeten tea. Actually I have no idea what the purpose is but I’m sure it’s a skincare thing.

mmmmmm honey, a super hot room and sweat!

My other favorite (well the honey thing isn’t a favorite it just cracks me up – who the hell thought of that) is the salt sauna. The salt sauna I actually like. I’m a heterosexual male and I realize that what I’m about to type will make everyone reading this question that statement but the salt sauna makes your skin super smooth. Halfway through this sauna, just when you’re thinking that your body can’t really be producing the amount of sweat it is currently producing , they pass out small cups of rock salt.

Rock salt, not just for deicing your driveway but for vigorously rubbing all over your naked body too!

Cup of salt in hand you pour a bit on your leg, arm chest, everywhere and scrub. Words of caution do not get this shit in your eyes and any little open wound (shaving nick, cut on a finger) is about to sting like hell. But the after effect is, again I am a heterosexual male, really smooth skin. I find myself hours later going, why are my arms to smooth, oh yeah salt sauna.

Then just when you feel faint, just when you can’t take another moment of heat, just when you think you’re about to catch on fire the sauna master opens the door and everyone pours outside. Typically they have some sort of refreshment available, a Popsicle or a glass of tea or a piece of candy.

This is another one of those, am I really seeing/participating in this moment? Buck naked except for flip flops a group of anywhere from 20 to 60 men and women eating a popsicle, drinking tea desperately trying to cool down. Germans love, love, love to immediately after leaving a sauna dunk themselves in cold water and there are showers and buckets everywhere for just that purpose. I’m interested in not having a heart attack or enticing my testicle to relocate into my abdomen so except for a few experimental tries I forgo this aspect of the sauna.

That’s the naked German sauna experience in a nutshell. After round after round of sweat like a man waiting on the results of the girlfriend’s pregnancy test it’s time for a beer and maybe a bit to eat and then it’s over.

There is one other aspect of this ‘experience’ that I’ll save for another day, the two days a week that the whole damned place goes ‘textile free’. At seven P.M. there is an announcement and magically everyone is naked … the transition is, to me at least, funny for its own reasons .. more about that next time.

* Yes. If you’ve known me more than 10 minutes you fully understand that after the fifth beer I’m as likely to remove all of my clothing, regardless of the situation, as a two-year old … I am unable with beer to resist nearly any dare, it’s my gift/curse.

** No one is checking you out unless you’ve done something that screams CHECK ME OUT. There is an older man, Dagmar and I call ‘him look at my penis man’, who is about 70 and I’m reasonably certain that he must have been a sailor in the 1970s as he’s covered in aged tattoos and, get this, has more piercings on his penis and scrotum than is reasonable or even sane. I have seen him engaged with other Germans discussing his artwork (I assume, all parties involved were looking directly at his junk so I can’t imagine is a discussion about Greek debt). There are a few ‘personalities’ at the sauna that Dagmar and I laugh about … more about them next time though.

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