Sunday, July 29, 2012

Adios, You Sexy Bastard.

In Mallorca, shaving is a team sport. Especially the shoulders.

How time flies, sexy, well toned readers.  Just one month ago I was in the DC area, spending a productive night milking my Jersey Eye (an occasional side effect of last year´s eye surgery.  What eye surgery, you ask?  Read about it here!).

And now, here I am.  Wrapping up my last month in delicious, blue sky´d, mostly topless Mallorca.  I will be graduating from my Educational Leadership program tomorrow, the culminating pinnacle of three long years of blood, sweat, and beers.  For all my hard work I will be receiving an MA (my second one, no big deal) in Educational Leadership and a shiny certification which will allow me to work in an administrative positions at whatever school is broad minded enough to handle my thunder.

It´s been a great program- I have learned much, met some wonderful people (if I had a yearbook there would be so many"stay in touch" smiley face notes) and had some of the best times one can have whilst having your shorts stolen on the beach at 3 am.  I will miss The Office Bar for sure, and of course . . .

Cheap beer and terrible lighting.  Kind of like Unitarianism.

Rockefeller´s is a great club.  I will have fond memories of rocking the stage until 5am, and being surrounded by absurdly energetic European tourists.  Great times, and falling down the stairs become a rite of passage, especially after the second time.  And speaking of clubs, Fraggle Rock was great.  Last night I got to see some awesome music with a solid group of friends, some of whom had never heard death metal before, which is always interesting.  Explaining the physics of windmill headbanging reminded me of why I got into education.  That, and the free pens.

I´ll miss the beaches too.  Beautiful, free, and sunny 90% of the time.  Almost perfect.  My apartment was great, and being right by the ocean helped- the cultural clashes which ensued can best be summed up by this sign, located next to the stairwell:

The man trying to keep us down again . . .

So, this is goodbye, Mallorca.  At least for now.  You have treated me well, given me great memories, and helped me to make lifelong (hopefully) friendships.  I was able to introduce people to the wonders of crazy death metal rage and fish liquor.  They, in turn, showed me Sangria, Handball, topless philosophical conversations, and Escalope.  I only threw up once, and came through the program with a minimal amount of bruising or chafing.  All in all, well worth the time, money, and expanding beer belly.  

So tomorrow night I will walk with my fellows (I get to give the graduation speech . . . hee hee), followed by kick ass dance party action (I promised a friend a powerslide exhibition that will surely change lives) and then, two days later, off to Wacken!  Good thing I have built up my heavy metal tan, because it will surely be tested. I cannot wait to post some photos of drunken metal rage.  These are much like drunken Mallorca rage, but with less tapas and more spiky bits. Should be awesome.

Until I see you again, Mallorca- keep it greasy.

Thursday, July 19, 2012


So there I was, dear reader.

Let me set the scene.

Pardon me whilst I adjust my cravat.

It was New Year's Eve and I had found myself on the lovely island of Santorini, in a local bar surrounded by crazy drunken madness (I think we can all agree that is the best kind, unless you're one of those whiley anti-Dionysian sumbitches). I had my arm around two lovely women from the Ukraine who were on break from medical school when the greatest Tenacious D song of all time came up on the radio.  The tall one and I climbed on a rickety chair together and sang happily along while the shorter, saucier one frantically called for more champagne.  I had lost my shirt while playing a video game one hour before.  It was one of the greatest New Year's I have ever had, except for the fact that . . .

Oh god, I can't tell that story on this blog- my mother reads it, for God's sake.  Besides, I should save the full tale for my upcoming memoir, Three Women Who Ruined My Life and Then What Happened (oh god, cheap plug!)

so anyway . . .

What have I been doing, you ask?  Oh man, so much to tell!  I am two weeks away from getting my Admin Degree, which will entitle me to rule a school with my iron fist of sexy justice.  I am also two weeks away from my meeting with destiny.   Good times.  Occasionally great times, especially when I can get the beach action happening.

The beach in front of my apartment.  So good.

But rest assured, leather clothed reader (one can dream), all is not beer, sand, and toplessness.  I have been taking classes in an effort to expand my beautiful ubermind, and have had my entire view of reality blown through my face, Predator style, on more than one occasion.  I will relate one such story to you.

Do you know what a QR Code is?  If so, three points for you.  I have seen these pop up over the years but never understood their purpose. For those who are unfrozen cavemen lawyers like me they look like this:

  Lord British FTW!

I always assumed these were some kind of post modern punk graffiti, devoid of meaning, indicative of a society drowning in its own symbolic excesses, like the last three seasons of 24.  I kind of thought it was the natural evolution of an icon held dear in the early 90's as a symbol of our time:

I miss you Fezzik.  

Turns out I was wrong and it was merely a marketing ploy, albeit one with a cool marketing scheme.  The lesson learned is that sometimes the mystery is better than the facts at hand, kind of like the story of my abs.  I have also learned that I need to work harder at keeping up with technology, or else the cruel bitch goddess of technological advances might leave my poor lonely blog in the cyber dust.  So, if anyone has any tips on including jpegs involving kids getting hit on the heads with shovels, let me know.

I take my insanely important, super stressful Comprehensive Exam on Sunday.  This will determine if I can become an administrator so it's a pretty big deal.  In light of this, I'll be spending the next four days studying, drinking beer, and praying for either death or cake.  I will let you all know how it goes.

Wish me luck.

And cake.

Especially cake.