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OH GOD I SURE HOPE NO ONE HIJACKS MY LIVEJOURNAL.
I awake at 10pm after a two-hour dream-infested nap that included riding around Normal on a motocycle GTA-style and talking with Full House characters.
I suddenly have a craving for sausage.
Note that I live in a super residential neighborhood that is utterly devoid of restaurants, bars, people, and probably even wolves. During the day I see people walking around, but at night it’s quieter than Cornell Drive. I am nonplussed. I like saying nonplussed.
As I walk out the door my mp3 player randomly selects Overkill’s Killology for me to walk, thus setting the tone for the evening. An evening with Overkill. I take the tram into a more city-center-like-place in an attempt to find Sternen Grill, the brat stand that Anne showed me within hours of my arrival. I have recently learned (15 minutes ago) that it is open until midnight. Sternen has excellect sausage and is the only place I know of to acquire food for less than 10 Swiss Francs.
I get off the tram and walk along the river, which is awesome. It looks a lot more Euro here than up by where I’m staying. You know what I mean. For instance, every third shoppe has well-made, fashionable $300 shoes in the window. Now it’s time to play my new favourite game, How Many Clocks Can I Spot In My Field Of Vision Without Turning My Head. OK, four.
After walking around and looking at stuff, (Zurich has unfortunately succumbed to the silly Word + Number == posh bar name trend), I find Sternan and get a big-ass sausage, a hunk of bread, and a large glass bottle of beer that I can walk around in the street with because the Swiss aren’t afraid of glass like America is. Oh and by the way, you know that mustard they have at Kaiserhof, that my dog Fresh had first, with the kit, that’s kitted out, look like it got frog eyes? Got that shit on dubs. I walk around drinking beer and looking at things.
At the tram stop a lady in a gaudy sweater asks me something in german. I tell her I don’t understand. She re-asks me for money, this time in english. Even the homeless people speak english here. Advantage: Switzerland.
On the way home I see a skateboarder bite it hard. Some things are just hilariously gratifying no matter what country you’re in.
—
The other day I went to NORDSEE, the Swiss version of Long John Silver’s. See http://www.nordsee.de/index.jsc for an international java experience. Unfortunately it is not pirate-themed.
I made it to Zurich intact. So far I can report:
– Zurich has the most unbelievably quiet airport I’ve ever been to
– Customs was nonexistant. I had to show some guy my passport who barely looked at it and off I went.
Sold the Ghortmobile last week. Insert Manowar-esque tribute about wheels and burning forever and rings and burning and glory.
I received the following email in response to my craigslist post, which advertised the car for 2,000 US Bones.
—
Hello,
I am very interested in your car, but here’s my situation. I have a
single mom with two small kids who lost everything in Katrina. She
virtually has only the clothes on their backs. I want to help her get
started, including buying her a car, but my funds are limited.
Please tell me your rock bottom price so that I know our price without
hassles.
Thanks
Dennis
—
I was immediately suspicious of scammery, but I’m a sucker so I called Dennis anyway. He of course asked for a charity discount, and I was feeling overwhelmed by feelings of getting rid of my car and helping someone at the same time so I said I’d sell it for $1500. Note that the blue book value of this car is around $2500. We arranged a meeting.
Dennis turned out to be a lecherous-looking middle-aged fat man in a mustang convertible with no tread left on the tires. He brought along a young lady who is probably considered to be hot by some people, showing a lot of cleavage, wearing one of those wretched baby-doll shirts that make one look pregnant. Perfect California tan. Two cute two squirrelly kids in the back seat of the ‘stang.
While she took the Ghortmobile for a spin around the block I asked Dennis where she was from. Pensacola. How did you meet her? She’s my niece.
She got back and he took it for a spin. Where are you from? New Orleans.
After much brow-furrowing despite the fact that I was basically giving them $500, they’ll take it and we agree to meet the next day to make THE DEAL.
I call the next morning to give directions to La Jolla; she answers. After talking for a minute, she says: Here, let me hand the phone to my dad. NICE.
After getting off the phone I was pretty sure there wasn’t a whole lot of truth to the Katrina story, and almost called them back to say shove it. But I didn’t really care about the money difference and was too excited about the prospect of being carless in less than an hour. And this way I don’t have to feel bad if the original trans with 162k miles on it falls out in two weeks, or the brakes start shaking more than they have been, or that the car hasn’t had a tuneup in about 50k miles, or that I didn’t even bother to wash & vacuum it for them. It’s in the hands of the karma police now.
http://users.sdsc.edu/~mpackard/tinys/
http://users.sdsc.edu/~mpackard/muddybuddy/
She’s been good to me. I’m gonna miss you baby.
http://sandiego.craigslist.com/car/101230454.html
There is a party FOR ME happening at Tiny’s on Saturday, October 8 @ 7pm.
http://www.evite.com/pages/invite/viewInvite.jsp?event=LKLKTJCUINIYVFLTBEVB&inviteId=BQMUARTMKZGYZMHJDIMO
I am moving to Zurich, Switzerland on October 16, 2005.
Holy fuck.