Blunt force trauma to the head sucks. Who knew?

So I have been out and about a lot lately... there has been a lot of debauchery and beer, and general madness the past couple weeks.  I have been out of my cave a lot.  I am tired and my liver might fall out soon.

Most recently, I went to Sacramento this past weekend to go to a party.  That's right.  I flew to another city just to go to a party.  Cuz that's how I roll.  (hahahahaha...)  

We all know that I tend to hurt myself when I am drinking.  Minor injuries abound in my life.  I run into things, fall down a lot, twist joints the wrong way.  Cuts, scrapes, bruises, burns, and mysterious aches are very common. 

After 9 days during which I was drinking heavily 5 times, I have several bruises, a slightly messed up knee and wrist, and some blisters.  These are mostly just from walking.  Yep.  I am so retarded I can't even walk without hurting myself.  The wrist thing?  I have no idea what I did to my wrist...

But the worst battle wound of all came from CLEANING.  Sober.  Just picking up a cup or something off the floor, I stood up and smashed my head on the cabinet door that was above me.  See, in Sacramento, the cabinets are all sneeky and they move around opening all over the place and positioning themselves right above you.  So careful if you go there.  

And be careful if you're cleaning too.  Because that's what I was doing and, man, was that ever a mistake.  You don't realize what a threat to your safety these menial tasks can be until it's too late.  I'm just trying to help.  Cleaning is dangerous.

Seems that when you cut your scalp, it bleeds like crazy.  So I was sure I was in some deep shit for a few minutes there.  Lots of blood.  But it finally stopped bleeding and is just a very painful lump.  It's not cool.  I do realize any smart person would have gone to a doctor to get this checked, but nah...  I probably don't have brain damage.  And if I do, what are the chances I would damage part of the 10% that I use?  I'm pretty sure the odds are only 1 in 10.  Or something like that.  So why worry about it?  I was relieved this morning when I woke up.  It's a good feeling to not die in your sleep.  

Prague is Adorable (once you leave the train station)

Let me just say that 18 hours of sleep is a lot. Even for me. I pretty much never sleep that much, unless I am extremely sick or something. So to arrive in Prague and then sleep for 18 hours was a shock, even to me. But in my own defense, I was woken up by extremely loud noises in my hotel about once every half hour. It was the loudest place I've ever been. It was far noisier than any hostel I've stayed at, and that is saying a lot. And this was a hotel.

I was fucking tired, and I hadn't taken my alarm clock out of my bag the night before, so I really had no concept of how long I was sleeping. I would hear someone yell in the hallway, slam a door, or go up or down the stairs (A sound that was compared to 'elephants moving pianos'), wake up, groan, roll over and fall asleep immediately.

When I did wake up, finally, I felt like I had been sleeping for a long time, so I thought it was maybe noon or 1pm. I dug around my bags and found my clock. 6pm nearly. OH SHIT! Where did the day go???

I was almost reluctant to go out into the world and to see Prague at all. Almost. I was also very excited, but I was still a bit on edge after the adventures the night before.

I should back up...

The Praha Holešovice Train Station is not my friend. I arrived at about 11pm and was basically attacked by people I consider shady who were trying to offer me accommodations, and were following me around. They were doing this to everyone. They were kind of creeping me out and they were all way too much in my personal space. As a foreign tourist (which was obvious to anyone who saw me, I'm sure), with luggage and all, I always feel like a target. I absolutely hate walking around in a strange place with luggage, because it makes me feel like I am going to be robbed. And when people are all up in my business like that, this feeling increases exponentially. I was trying to get money from an ATM, and get the hell out of that place and find my hotel... I also hate to take money from an ATM when there are shady people around. That whole robbed thing again.

So I found a corner with a bench and I sat down. I got my papers out with the directions to the hotel, and looked at my map. This worked out well, because the huge crowds of other tourists who had arrived with me slowly made their ways out of that place and the creepy people seemed to follow them. Soon there was almost no one around, except for some random stray people here and there. Most of them were creepy too, but at least there were far fewer of them.

So armed with money and having a vague idea where to go, I located the metro, which was basically right next to where I'd been the whole time. One thing was simple.

But then the god damn ticket machines. There I stood. Staring. I was pretty sure I needed a ticket for my suitcase. I'm wasn't exactly sure because of course this was not in English. But I believed that's what the picture was telling me. But I also saw that this lovely machine only takes coins. Of course I had none. I walked all over the place trying to find a way to break my bills. I went to a couple of windows and was yelled at by angry rail station employees and a VERY angry money exchange man. I even was trying to exchange money if that would get me some fucking coins. He became more angry.

Sigh.

I finally saw people playing little casino type machines and there was a woman near them selling snacks and stuff. I bought a coke. I was very relieved. I headed back to the ticket machines. On my way, I found a frightened Asian girl who looked like she was going to cry. So I asked if she was OK, and she was having the same problems I was just having, but not coping at all. Her English was broken but functional. "I need to take Metro. I need to buy ticket but I try find change for money... Here no one kind!" This was something she said to me about 10 times in the next 10 minutes. "Here no one kind."

I couldn't agree more. But at the same time, I've been in my share of European train stations, and they are usually the worst place in the entire city. So I'm trying not to hate it there. I forced a cheerful smile and told her we'd figure it out together. I took her back to where I bought my coke. She bought a coke too. We went back to the evil machines. Her friend was there staring at the machine confused, waiting for her. So the three of us stood there and tried to decipher it. We agreed we needed tickets for our bags. We could not figure out how to buy them though. I decided I was going to pretend my suitcase was a child and just buy it a child ticket and get the fuck out of there. The other two liked this idea. I got my tickets, and they were buying theirs when the machine ate a bunch of their money. They were pissed. They insisted it was OK now and that I should just go. They knew what to do and they would be fine. I felt bad. But I also wanted to get the fuck out of there...

So I decided that Praha Holešovice is an awful place to be at night. However, when I returned a few days later to make reservations to leave on a train to Vienna, it sucked just as badly. And when I went there again, to actually leave to go to Vienna, it still sucked. The people who work in that place are ill tempered folks who seem very upset when you ask anything of them. Even if it is something that is part of their job. If you ask too many questions about when there are trains leaving... you will be yelled at. "THIS IS NOT AN INFORMATION DESK."

"Well, it is... actually... it says it is here on your window.... alright then I'll just take that first train you mentioned... please stop yelling and throwing your hands in the air!"

So anyway, I was a bit timid at first to go face the city of Prague. But I was also suffering from a terrible caffeine headache, and I was starving to death. So I went out the door and started walking in a random direction to try to find food and coffee.

It was lovely. I loved it there almost immediately. It's such a cute city! The buildings are colorful, the views almost everywhere are nice. Pretty much the first thing I saw after going outside and walking for a minute was this:


Don't let the dark clouds fool you. It was actually warm and very nice outside (rained later on but only for a little while). It was a great evening. I got my coffee, had some potato cheesy things, and then tried to get a general layout of the town.

When I say I tried to get a general layout of the place, this means I walked around lost as shit for a long time trying to figure it out. I had read in my book that the Old Town was something like a maze and that it's really easy to get lost in there. NO! I have a great sense of direction, this will be a piece of cake.

I proceeded to go in a complete circle, thinking I was going somewhere... Then later on I went in another circle. A different circle than the first one... But wow. I felt dumb. But it was all fine and good. I didn't care. I was happy everywhere I went so I didn't mind much that I was going in circles. I had a couple beers and then I minded even less. I did manage to find my hotel too. It was a very long walk. But I made it. Then the next day I discovered that if I had taken that other street, I would have been at my hotel in 15 minutes instead of an hour. Oops!

I won't ask for directions and you can't make me!!! HAHAHA.

Aside from my poor sense of direction, I did really love that place. It is a charming city. It's people are quirky and usually very nice (except the ones in the train station). The history and general character of the place are very endearing. Not to mention that Czechs drink more beer per capita than any other nation in the world, and they have delicious beers there. Also let's not overlook the fried cheese. I had a lot of fried cheese there. Honestly, a lot of places had little else to offer me since I don't eat pork or beef. But in a land with so many different varieties of fried cheese, you will never hear me complain.

I know I will go back to Prague again, and I look forward to it.

My view while drinking coffee

Memorial to the Victims of Communism

A Cubist Lamp Post! Hahaha!

Liz+Reykjavik+beer=tired-(sleep/dysfunctional)x Airports suck

Reykjavik is bad for sleep.

Of course I had to have one night of fun in Reykjavik! It's light out in the middle of the night... the bars don't close till the morning... what is Liz supposed to do? Liz has to go drink too much beer and stay out all night! I would have considered myself a total failure otherwise. And it's just so easy to stay up all night when it's not dark outside! Was this good for my confused and tired body and my sleep schedule? Of course not.

So out on the town I went, with three nice Australians I met in my hostel. I'm not sure what the deal is with Australians, but they seem to always be everywhere but Australia. I could be wrong. I've never been to Australia. But every other place I've ever been, there have always been strange numbers of Aussies around. Curious. But they are always cool, so I don't mind. It's just odd to be out in a group of Australians when I'm in Iceland.

Me drinking beer with Australians

But anyway, we went out into the bright night to drink lots of beer. We had fun. We went to a pub, and then we went to a club that I didn't think would let me in... I was not dressed to perfection like everyone else. I was my typical disheveled self. But they didn't stop me! We stayed all night, and I met some entertaining Icelandic people, most of whom were so nice it amazed me. Fun times.

Next day... sleeping. Then up all night again! Irish pub... was accused of being from Greenpeace and being there to criticize the country's policies on whaling. Which I was not even a little bit interested in. That guy ended up being my pal and buying me beers. And seemed like he was going to get into a fistfight with another guy who was staring at me. Whoa! Ok, maybe I should leave now! :)

Alas, I was off to the airport just a couple hours later. Sad.


Travel is bad for sleep.

The next day was difficult. I had an early flight to Frankfurt. The bus to Keflavik airport was late. We arrived to see an unending sea of people trying to check in. It didn't look good for me. It was the kind of line that I think you wait in in Hell. You can't ever see the front, and for some reason it rarely moves.

Did I do any souvenir shopping? Did I exchange my Kronur to Euros? No. I barely made my flight. When I finally checked in, the airline agent told me that I needed to run to my gate. She was very stern and clear about this. She didn't mean not to dawdle. She meant I must literally RUN the whole way across the airport or else they were going to leave without me.

I hate to run. I prefer to stroll leisurely. Even better than that, I really love a nice sit. And whenever possible, why sit if you could be laying down? That's what I always say. I am a lazy fuck. So running across the airport with my unnecessary winter coat and warm clothes and carrying my bag... well, it sucked. But I made my flight. I couldn't sleep though. :(

From Frankfurt, I was to make my way to Prague. I had no reservations. I had not checked schedules. I was fairly sure I was going to end up somewhere unintended for the night. But fingers crossed, I just showed up. I figured I could do a lot worse than getting stuck in Germany. Plus I've been in some wretched train journey fiascoes before and I survived. Hey, at least I wasn't in France. Right? Anything is better than that...

So I arrived and knew I was going to have to haul ass if I was going to make this work. So I didn't exactly run (I was still tuckered out from my morning sprint). But I power-walked the hell out of that airport and went straight to the train station. I was extremely lucky to learn that there was a train leaving in 7 minutes that with 2 very tight connections would get me to Prague that night. YAY!

Seven minutes. This would have been plenty of time. But remember where I'd just been. I was hungover, dehydrated, hungry, sooo thirsty, had to pee, and nearly dead on my feet. So I sprang into action. Bathroom now! Done! Buy water and anything at all to eat while on this 9 hour train journey! Done! RUN DON'T MISS THE TRAIN! Done! Success!

The whole day was a series of running, then being in an uncomfortable seat for many hours... repeat as needed. But I got to Prague. Door to door, it was something like 18 hours. And on these trains, I got almost no sleep, although I couldn't understand why I was awake. I recommend NOT staying up all night before an 18 hour journey across Europe. I also recommend that if you are going from Reykjavik to Prague, you just fly all the way to Prague rather than trying to save a little money. And 2 minute train connections, while completely possible, are very unpleasant.

After a mini-nightmare trying to get out of the Prague train station (not a cool place late at night, to be honest), and figuring out the metro ticket machines that were designed by the devil, some confused wandering of streets I checked into my hotel. I went to sleep nearly immediately. I proceeded to sleep for 18 hours.

I woke up at about 6pm. I was right on track to conquer my jetlag...

I'm a degenerate gambler now

First off, I am so much less sick than before. It was a rough ten days or so, but I am happy to say that although I am still coughing in a way that makes the people around me feel uncomfortable, I am feeling WAY better than before. I spent most of this past weekend laying in my bed in a codeine induced stupor. It was lovely. And it really helped.

So now I am feeling able to do things like leave the house again. It's exciting. Because a week and a half is a long time for even me to spend hiding in my cave. Yesterday, a couple friends from work invited me to go with them to the dog track.

My first reaction was, "Nah, that's ridiculous!" I had this picture in my head of what this would be like. Old men sitting around betting on the races. Picture an overweight man in his 60s, wearing a hat and smoking a cigar. His name is Stu, and something he is wearing is plaid. It might be his pants, his jacket, or his hat. I'm not sure. He might have a cane too. And he's real serious about his smoking and gambling. This is who I picture hanging out at the track. Except that there are lots and lots of him, and their names aren't all Stu. There are probably some Als, Stans, Bobs, and Charlies, and maybe even a guy named Merv. I envisioned these men in a run down and somewhat ghetto venue too.

So, you know, not really my scene.

Then someone else at work who had been there before told me that I was right, and he added "nothing but a bunch of degenerates gambling." He was pretty adamant about the degenerate part. He made a math equation for me:



Well after thinking about it, I decided it might be fun, and it would definitely be a new experience. So why not? I was feeling pretty cooped up and stir crazy by then, and I was assured there would be beer there. So off I went to the track for some nice wholesome drinking and gambling.

It was everything I imagined it would be! Those men I had pictured in my head were there. Many of them. They weren't all dressed in plaid, and smoking is banned in Arizona, so there were no cigars. However, my general idea of who I would see came true completely. There were a lot of different people there too, not just the old men though. But many men wearing hats bettin' on the dogs. Also there were some other generally sad looking world-weary folks, sitting there gambling (many of them with their kids... nice family night out...), and also a few regular looking people.

Oh yeah, and the place was similar to what I imagined. As we walked in the door, it struck me immediately how old everything was in there. And it smelled musty like a thrift store. It was a fairly drab looking place, with very bright lights and old linoleum. Someone commented that it looked like an old abandoned airport. So my run down ghetto idea was pretty much right on too.

But it was fun! My friend won $201.00 right when we arrived. He had bet on 2 dogs named "Party Starter" and "Late Night Lover" just because he liked their names. They were both total long shots. They came in 1st and 2nd. So that started things out on a high note! I didn't win as much. But I went there, spent $21 on betting and beers, and I won about $33. So the way I see it, I was paid $12 to sit outside and drink beer, and watch some dogs run by every now and then.

Usually it costs me money to go out and drink beer, so this worked out better than normal. So I will probably go back again. Some day. Not all the time though. I don't want to get hooked and lose my life savings at the track...

Also, I'm pretty sure there is some cruelty involved in the way these dogs live. I don't know the details, but I know they are never allowed to just run around and play like normal dogs, so I do feel sad about that. If the reality is more horrible than that, I don't want to know about it. That would ruin my fun.

I Win!

I just want to take a moment to gloat. Not only are scientologists more disapproved of than me, but so is George W. Bush.

Seems Bushy has a record breaking 71% disapproval rating.

I, on the other hand, only have a 45% disapproval rating. So I'm pretty sure that means I should be in charge. Of everything. This is a completely valid conclusion, based on a lot of very meticulous and indisputable research. Trust me.

When I am queen of the earth, the first things I will do is ban traffic jams, mosquitoes, and bank fees. I will also mandate vending machines in all public places that will dispense beer. The beer will cost $.05 a bottle. And gasoline will also be only $.05. Per TANK.

Oh then I will take care of all the poverty and disease and global warming. But beer comes first. I mean, what kind of leader would I be if I didn't know how to prioritize?

Nice Lazy Weekend

I had a beautiful weekend. I accomplished the bare minimum that could be expected of me on a weekend, without feeling like it was a complete waste of time.

On friday night, I went to a bar for a night of way too much beer. This excess of beer seemed justified because it was a party in honor of two people's birthdays, one person's job promotion, and one guy's going away party. The guy who is moving away (back home to the UK) is really a super cool guy, and he will be missed a lot. So in honor of all these things, a lot of people came out for a night of way too much beer. It was fun. I kind of feel like an ass though, but that's usually how i feel when i drink too much. I don't think i did any real damage. And I had enough sense about me to walk home, which is good because I could have gone to jail or wrapped my beautiful Volvo around a telephone pole otherwise. We wouldn't want either of those things to happen.

Saturday, I had to walk all the way back to the bar to get my car back. It was sunny and hot. The world was loud and bright and harsh, and I was hungover and wanting to be back inside in the dark cool quiet. But I need my coffee. I got the car and finally went for my coffee and then everything was good again. I chatted with a couple friends at the coffee place for a bit, then I went home and returned to my dark lair of quiet for more lazing... and a nap.

Sunday was similar. I lounged about for most of the day. I took an afternoon nap. I did do some laundry, which was painful and distressing for me. But now my jeans don't smell all funky and I have clean shirts. Which is nice. I also went to a barbecue and hung out with some friends. It was nice out, and I had corn on the cob and beer. It was a good time.

This is exactly what I like a weekend to be. Lets say about 25% of the time having fun, 70% of the time doing nothing at all, and 5% being productive. That's a really good ratio. And also, I am always proud of myself when I take a nap in the middle of the day, even when I got more than enough sleep the night before. And I accomplished this two days in a row. Good job, Liz!

On an unrelated note, I have a DVR (two of them actually). Nearly everything I watch is recorded. So I almost never watch TV commercials. I can just fast forward through that shit. That's a great thing. But every now and then, I find myself watching normal TV. Right now, I am watching regular TV. I feel a small pain inside every time a commercial comes on and I can't fast forward. But on the bright side, there are occasionally some really good commercials! For example, the one for MasterCard that goes something like "going out for dinner: $50. Staying for dessert: $10, ordering coffee: $12" (I am really paraphrasing here, and I'm making these numbers up...) "Giving your kitchen the night off: priceless." Meanwhile you are watching all the kitchen appliances gettin' down and partying while the people are out of the house. This is an awesome advertisement. This is just SO CUTE. The knives are watching a horror movie! The salt and pepper shakers seem like they are on a date. Other utensils are playing in the sink and just dancing around. It's just so adorable. I love it. I'm not even going to get a MasterCard because of this ad, but I would like to thank MasterCard for entertaining me for 30 seconds. Well done. I just saw that a few minutes ago while I was writing this, and I wanted to share my appreciation for it.

Yeah, I know... You don't have to tell me... I realize I am a huge dork... ;)

Let's Go To a Whorehouse!

Well, now there is this pressure for me to write things on a regular basis. Which is kind of hard right now. All that's been going on this week is dogs barking (still being mercifully quiet, thank goodness) and working. I could complain about work, but I don't have the energy for that. Also, sometimes ridiculous things happen at work and I can write about these things and amuse people. But lately, no. It's just been a drag. And I don't want to bore my fan base. It's a pretty limited fan base, so it wouldn't do to alienate them.

So now you are wondering, "What whores? She said something about whores and this is a lot lamer than I was led to believe it would be... stupid Liz isn't even talking about whores."

Well, keep your pants on. Or not. You know, whatever. Pants are optional here.

So a very smart friend of mine suggested that I start this blog out with the whore story, but I didn't think that was a good idea. That's a lot to live up to. But it's been a few days. I think I've eased into the whore story. Somehow you didn't lose interest yet, even after boring stories about dogs barking. So you earned your hookers!

A couple weeks ago, I went to the Tempe Beer Festival. This was a fun event near the "Lake" in downtown tempe. Specifically it was at the "Beach Park." I must use quotes because it is a pretty poor excuse for a lake. And there is no way to even pretend that there is a beach there. There is a grassy area. That's the most beachy part. I've been to beaches that had grass before. But usually there is also a beach at the beach. But this "beach park" doesn't have a beach. It's just dumb. But anyway, this was an afternoon of drinking lots of different kinds of beer out of tiny beermugs, and getting sunburned. But somehow, in spite of the tiny beers it was still really fun and i got kinda drunk. But then afterwards, we went to a bar where they had regular sized beers. And I had some of those too... then another bar for dinner and a really big beer... then to someone's apartment for some more beers... you get the point. The beerfest really acted more like a catalyst that drove me to drink a LOT of beer at other places besides the beerfest. By late that night (I have no concept of actual time by then. The tiny beers started at 2:30pm. The regular beers started around 6pm. "Late" may have been 11pm? I dunno) I was pretty much hammered. Then we went BACK out into the world for more BEER!

Here is where things stopped being as amazing. I was taken to a place I've never been to before. It's called the Cherry Lounge. It was terrible. It was a club. It felt a bit like a whorehouse to me. (Finally the whores!) Let me describe it. There are large pictures on the walls of basically naked women. Not exactly naked. But close. Wearing as little clothing as possible without being naked. There were also stripper poles all over the place. These were scattered throughout for all the ladies to use. So if you feel you are in the mood to do some pole dancing on top of a table that is lit from below, this is your place! But then the best part was the CAGES. There were big cages with anorexic girls dancing, also basically naked. Dancing like whores in cages. With their pole dancing companions around. AWESOME. Oh yeah, and the lights were all red, so it really brought back memories of window shopping for whores in Amsterdam. Well, needless to say, I had to keep drinking a lot in order to cope with this place. So I basically drowned myself. I am very appreciative of my friend Carol because she helped me get home after 12 hours of drinking. Silly me! Trying to take a cab with only $3 in my wallet...

If you are ever thinking to yourself, "I want to go out and drink! And Liz is coming too! Where should we go?" 99% of the time, a club is not the right answer. 100% of the time, a club with bad music and pole dancers and whores in cages is not the right answer. I don't like whorehouses. At least not dark crowded ones with really loud terrible music. I think this was one of the levels of hell. Did anyone read Inferno? Was he ever at a nightclub? Well, enough beer and liquor and even I can have a little fun at club-whore-hell. But in retrospect, I could have just said BYE! and gone to the irish pub next door. But I was too far gone to think clearly enough for that. It seems so obvious now, but I didn't even think of that option at the time.

I feel a little bad about making people think this would be about prostitutes, and fooling you into reading that dumb story. So I will go off on a tangent and mention the prostitute that was in front of me in line at Walmart once. I can't actually prove she was a hooker. But let me assure you, she was a hooker. There were shiny silver and black spandex pants. There was a silver and white fur coar that seemed to be made out of a dead tiger. If tigers were silver. And huge blond hair with a whole can of hairspray. And Boots. HOOKER BOOTS. I waited in the line behind her for a few minutes, amazed that there was an actual hooker in front of me. I don't really see a lot of prostitutes up close like that. Then she turned around. OH SNAP! She was about 8 or 9 months pregnant. And the makeup confirmed it. Definitely a pregnant hooker. Oh yeah. I mean, it's slightly possible it was someone dressed up as a pregnant hooker for Halloween, but she didn't realize she had been sleeping for 6 months and that it wasn't October anymore.... There have been a few other alleged "hookers" that i've encountered at the local Walmart before too. But this was by FAR the most hookery hooker i've seen ever (not counting the ones in various red light districts or working a corner down on Van Buren. Those are obvious hookers. They don't count). The fact that she was pregnant made it a million times more fantastic. I bet there aren't many pregnant hookers down on Van Buren. And I'm sure there is a market for that too. There are a lot of weird people out there...

I just remembered something. If you ever do want to bring me out to a whorehouse, then we can go to House of Tricks. That's a nice whorehouse. They took a whorehouse and turned it into a classy restaurant/bar. They serve a delicious appetizer plate of breads, fruit, and cheeses. Lots of different kinds of cheese. And the music isn't loud. Now that's my kind of brothel.