So i'm well on my way to becoming the wine-delivery bitch for these Boston College preps. Apparently, being home schooled is debilitating for ones social hierarchy.
Short Story:
A few days ago, Doug, Kyle and I took Irish Car Bombs with our host sister, after which we indulged in the Goofy-Movie. She was having none of it, so we proceeded to take another car bomb mid-movie to ease her tensions.
Longer Story:
So Sitges is the big site of 'Carnival 'for those in Barcelona. For those who are unfamiliar with carnival at Sitges, its a giant party about 20 minutes outside of Barcelona where everyone customes up. There is a fair number homosexuals in attendance so the events are typically, well, eventful.
So the day before, me, dot, jenna, cristen and kendall do a little Halloween shopping. The girls were dressing up like a flock of colorful birds, and cristen stumbled across my inner Batman.
While there, i purchased my pregame poison: two 70 cent bottles of whine and a 4 dollar bottle of vodka.
To this day, i still dont know if thats where i went wrong, but i imagine it couldnt have helped...
Flash forward, I m running late to the pregame. It was suppose to commence at 9, i get there at 10, bus leaves at 11. So i start going at it, a little wine a little vokda + OJ.
At about 20 till 11, i decide to pick up the pace. But at 11, we did not leave, instead plans were changed to a 11:30 departure. However, given my frame of mind, al momento, i didn't realize mind didn't understand i had time. Needless to say, when i got the bus, I was KABLASTEDDDDDDD.
I sat next to cristen but tried to avoid speaking out... sheer inability to speak. I blackout once we get off the bus. I didn't pass out, but at this point things have to be retold to me. Cristen was carrying me as we walked to the parade.
Rumor has it, that i decided to go the bathroom in a set of porter johns. Rumor also has it that i was inside for 20 minutes, at which point, Dot realizing my tendency to fall asleep in bathrooms checks up on me. I was asleep, forehead against the wall above the toilet. She woke me up and removed me from the premises.
Ironically, she walked me to the beach. But because she took three shots before getting off the bus, and i hadnt drank since getting on the bus to Sitges, our drunkness insected for a moment, and then swapped completed. I came out of my blackboard into to Dot in a severely drunken state. I proceeded to care for her as best i could while we frolicked on the beach.
And there we chilled, for a number of hours. Everyone was out-of-their-mind wasted.
It seemed like any American that was there that fateful night was absolutely bombed.
Alex went to the hospital. Danny missed his bus home. Sarah got her phone stolen. Something happened to everyone.
Aside:
Last night was another thursday night, I hate 9 AM friday classes. We went to a club called Sutton. One word: Posh. We pregamed at the bar right across the street, Smoking dog for Pete and ...'s birthday. Open bar!
Dot convinved me to change my shirt and sneakers and come to Sutton. So i changed from white sneakers to black sneakers and met up with Dot and Jenna. They didn't even look at me, they only looked at my shoes as i approached them.
'John, what the f***!'
'What, i changed them!'
'Those are sneakers...!'
'Yes, but theyre black sneakers...'
Turns out they made a big deal for nothing. I got in fine, after being surrounded by females on all sides. The club was mega-clean. Gorgeous girls everywhere...
Pete was out of it, for being his 21st. I danced with An, Carmen, and Olivia for a bit, before heading back to Boston.
First exam next with in BCN:MAD. I can't wait. I also cant wait for London, Dublin and Italy (with Isys!).
Parkour...
Small fact, last weekend a bunch of other BC kids from italy came to Barcelona.
It snowed. Yes snowed. :(
viernes, 19 de febrero de 2010
Exam I + Flower Power = Fracaso Epico
quick updates...
new obsession: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eE_RBQYF0lU
Catalan isn't as close to spanish as i wouldn't liked...
Abroad Advisory:
There are two kinds of americans that come to spain... those that stick only with other Americans, and those that are disgusted by the former. I, however, have taken a skewed approach. There are catalunyans ill never be able to meet again, and there are americans ill never be able to meet again. My conjecture: don't hate, hit the bottom of the bottle with everyone.
Exciting News:
Through the likes of Cristen Callan, i have stumbled into a group of Boston College students at UPF... So i am now walking the line in between IES kids and BC kids...
perhaps even transfering next year (hota-kah)
With this fabulous group I trekked to Tarragona, the cite of ancient roman ruins. Unbeknownst to most, Barcelona was actually founded by the Romans as 'Barcino' nearly a milenia ago.
The weather at Tarragona was phenomenal, and the Mediterranean simply looks like other ocean... who knew? Me and the guys also birthed a new fashion trend: roll up jeans halfway to the calf...
It was quite a trek to the beach from the train station; lets just say it was a stroll down a mountains slope covered with ramas y piedra.
Storytime:
So I accompanied the BC to a party themed 'Flower Power' (aka 1960s America). My getup: rainbow gloves, rainbow headband, aviators, double-popped collar (red and brown). There really was know purpose to the double-pop, other than to assimilate to SAE culture as quickly as possible...
I go into this fiesta knowing i had an exam the next day at 9 AM, knowing it was wreckless; yet knowing far more confidently that the night would be memorable. So we pregame at BC location I. After which we all pop into the 'Discoteque,'with a lovely buzz. We proceed to dance until 5 in the morning.
Note: All of these clubs are legit... light shows, great bars, dancers peppered all over the drunken maddess, and the perfect blend of American-Catalunya spirit.
Flashforward: its 8:15 AM... ring ring. I get up in a daze and catch the metro to school. I start taking the exam, trying to read as hard as I possibly could, trying to remember irregulars as best i could, but it was like every time i nearly understood the questions, the subs from the night before would blast a wall of lyrical shrapnel through my mind, obliterating any traces of the answers. To this day, I still don't recall a single question from the test.
But i managed to crawl my way through the minefield of chart-toppers, and after an hour, i had answered everything. I had 30 minutes to check my work, but first i needed a break. I went to the bathroom (similar to a closet) and locked the door. Then i opted to turn off the lights ...bad idea... 5 minutes later i turned them back on but everything changed. It was as if god himself had prepared a sleeping arrangement on the ground. So I deviously, layed down on the floor, and flew away on the back of Mother Goose before my head hit the ground.
I woke up to the my cell phone ringing...
'dude, where the hell did go...'
'Uh, idk, the bathroom...'
'What!? the teacher just took your test and left'
'What time is it?'
'10:35'
'(explicative)'
Now, while i was still on the bathroom, i thought to myself, if just for a moment, was it worth it, at which point i closed my eyes and returned a world blowing up in the rays of adagio ecstasy.
Was it work it? Abso-fuckin-lutely.
new obsession: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eE_RBQYF0lU
Catalan isn't as close to spanish as i wouldn't liked...
Abroad Advisory:
There are two kinds of americans that come to spain... those that stick only with other Americans, and those that are disgusted by the former. I, however, have taken a skewed approach. There are catalunyans ill never be able to meet again, and there are americans ill never be able to meet again. My conjecture: don't hate, hit the bottom of the bottle with everyone.
Exciting News:
Through the likes of Cristen Callan, i have stumbled into a group of Boston College students at UPF... So i am now walking the line in between IES kids and BC kids...
perhaps even transfering next year (hota-kah)
With this fabulous group I trekked to Tarragona, the cite of ancient roman ruins. Unbeknownst to most, Barcelona was actually founded by the Romans as 'Barcino' nearly a milenia ago.
The weather at Tarragona was phenomenal, and the Mediterranean simply looks like other ocean... who knew? Me and the guys also birthed a new fashion trend: roll up jeans halfway to the calf...
It was quite a trek to the beach from the train station; lets just say it was a stroll down a mountains slope covered with ramas y piedra.
Storytime:
So I accompanied the BC to a party themed 'Flower Power' (aka 1960s America). My getup: rainbow gloves, rainbow headband, aviators, double-popped collar (red and brown). There really was know purpose to the double-pop, other than to assimilate to SAE culture as quickly as possible...
I go into this fiesta knowing i had an exam the next day at 9 AM, knowing it was wreckless; yet knowing far more confidently that the night would be memorable. So we pregame at BC location I. After which we all pop into the 'Discoteque,'with a lovely buzz. We proceed to dance until 5 in the morning.
Note: All of these clubs are legit... light shows, great bars, dancers peppered all over the drunken maddess, and the perfect blend of American-Catalunya spirit.
Flashforward: its 8:15 AM... ring ring. I get up in a daze and catch the metro to school. I start taking the exam, trying to read as hard as I possibly could, trying to remember irregulars as best i could, but it was like every time i nearly understood the questions, the subs from the night before would blast a wall of lyrical shrapnel through my mind, obliterating any traces of the answers. To this day, I still don't recall a single question from the test.
But i managed to crawl my way through the minefield of chart-toppers, and after an hour, i had answered everything. I had 30 minutes to check my work, but first i needed a break. I went to the bathroom (similar to a closet) and locked the door. Then i opted to turn off the lights ...bad idea... 5 minutes later i turned them back on but everything changed. It was as if god himself had prepared a sleeping arrangement on the ground. So I deviously, layed down on the floor, and flew away on the back of Mother Goose before my head hit the ground.
I woke up to the my cell phone ringing...
'dude, where the hell did go...'
'Uh, idk, the bathroom...'
'What!? the teacher just took your test and left'
'What time is it?'
'10:35'
'(explicative)'
Now, while i was still on the bathroom, i thought to myself, if just for a moment, was it worth it, at which point i closed my eyes and returned a world blowing up in the rays of adagio ecstasy.
Was it work it? Abso-fuckin-lutely.
miércoles, 20 de enero de 2010
Don't follow your intuition...
Every now and then the concept of a 'creeper' baffles me. But in saying so, I have to include that I have certainly recognized that there are traits meriting the creeper that have served me well (at least once), namely, his creepiness.
Last Sunday, FB Barcelona was playing Seville (a rather important intranational rivalry).
But before embellishing the story, lets establish the ballerness that is FCBarcelona:
There is this thing known as the 'sextuple' in Futbol: 2 national championships, 3 european championships, and 1 world championship; something that has never been achieved before, that is... until last year.
Needless to say, I have effectively been introduced into the epitomy of fairweatherfaness.
I wanted to 'scout' this game, which means go to the stadium to see if anyone was selling any extra tickets. Kevin and I are wondering around the stadium when two 'shady' characters come up to us and offer us tickets in Spanish.
-How much?
-Twenty each.
I actually only had 7 euros on me (idiot) so i told them to which they responded
-Fifteen a piece
-Okay, lets do it (Kevin spots me)
We wander through a few back alleys which resembled Stalingrad during WWII:
http://www.odinclan.no/Album%20-%20WWII/Bilder/Allies/Russians_fighting_in_stalingrad.jpg
Anyway, we get to gate 45 and the guy convinces the guard to let us in.
Not lying... it literally sounded something like what a gladiator must of heard before emerging into the Coliseum. The screams of 110,000 obsessed fans is enough to make your clothes vibrate.
I emerged into the stadium in the front row, close enough to see the sweat drip of the our goalie.
It was intense. Between the 20 camera flashes a second, puffs of 30,000 smokers, and typhoon-like tremble when we scored; Im not even going to try to describe it.
What i can describe is this : creepers may deceive you... but if you aren't alone.
Take the chance. I can guarantee you'll have a story.
And at the end of all, isnt that what life is... a series of epic stories???
Last Sunday, FB Barcelona was playing Seville (a rather important intranational rivalry).
But before embellishing the story, lets establish the ballerness that is FCBarcelona:
There is this thing known as the 'sextuple' in Futbol: 2 national championships, 3 european championships, and 1 world championship; something that has never been achieved before, that is... until last year.
Needless to say, I have effectively been introduced into the epitomy of fairweatherfaness.
I wanted to 'scout' this game, which means go to the stadium to see if anyone was selling any extra tickets. Kevin and I are wondering around the stadium when two 'shady' characters come up to us and offer us tickets in Spanish.
-How much?
-Twenty each.
I actually only had 7 euros on me (idiot) so i told them to which they responded
-Fifteen a piece
-Okay, lets do it (Kevin spots me)
We wander through a few back alleys which resembled Stalingrad during WWII:
http://www.odinclan.no/Album%20-%20WWII/Bilder/Allies/Russians_fighting_in_stalingrad.jpg
Anyway, we get to gate 45 and the guy convinces the guard to let us in.
Not lying... it literally sounded something like what a gladiator must of heard before emerging into the Coliseum. The screams of 110,000 obsessed fans is enough to make your clothes vibrate.
I emerged into the stadium in the front row, close enough to see the sweat drip of the our goalie.
It was intense. Between the 20 camera flashes a second, puffs of 30,000 smokers, and typhoon-like tremble when we scored; Im not even going to try to describe it.
What i can describe is this : creepers may deceive you... but if you aren't alone.
Take the chance. I can guarantee you'll have a story.
And at the end of all, isnt that what life is... a series of epic stories???
This life is just getting out of hand...
Okay. Im here now. I think?
Since Ive been here Ive been all over the map. Between internship apps, budgeting travels, RyanAiring to and fro, life has been hectic. Lets RECAP.
Vina del Mar, CHILE:
A quick little rendition of New Years in Chile. Pisco + Cola = Piscola, otherwise know as heaven on earth. Brandizzle, Juan, his cuz Tomas and I drove to the beach near Pina del Mar to party at some Smirnoff New Years Party.
Two Words: Shot Down. Now i made the assumption that latinamericans like to dance, furthermore i assumed the exoticism of Johnathan Fingado was irresistable to most; both are incorrect. Due to the rather heafty fee of entrance into the Smirnoff party, I believe we essentially self-selected ourselves into the presence of the rich, homegrow equivalent of J.A.P.s, which I am all too familiar with at school. Serves me right.
Irrelevant, what is relevant was that I got my swerve on until 7 in the morning.
Barcelona, Espana:
Negatives: too many smokers, not so lovely teeth, the language of the region is a little to close to French for my liking, the Euro is dominating the dollar.
Positives: Step by step upping my fashion IQ (damn near everyone dresses well), along the same lines, everyone wears scarves and im a big fan of them, Tapas, Milk is uber cheap, parties start at 1 and end around 6, Access to Europe, Sagrada Familia.
Ive already booked flights to Dublin for St Patty's Parade and to London to see Livi in early March.
peaceeeeeeee <3 <3 <3
Since Ive been here Ive been all over the map. Between internship apps, budgeting travels, RyanAiring to and fro, life has been hectic. Lets RECAP.
Vina del Mar, CHILE:
A quick little rendition of New Years in Chile. Pisco + Cola = Piscola, otherwise know as heaven on earth. Brandizzle, Juan, his cuz Tomas and I drove to the beach near Pina del Mar to party at some Smirnoff New Years Party.
Two Words: Shot Down. Now i made the assumption that latinamericans like to dance, furthermore i assumed the exoticism of Johnathan Fingado was irresistable to most; both are incorrect. Due to the rather heafty fee of entrance into the Smirnoff party, I believe we essentially self-selected ourselves into the presence of the rich, homegrow equivalent of J.A.P.s, which I am all too familiar with at school. Serves me right.
Irrelevant, what is relevant was that I got my swerve on until 7 in the morning.
Barcelona, Espana:
Negatives: too many smokers, not so lovely teeth, the language of the region is a little to close to French for my liking, the Euro is dominating the dollar.
Positives: Step by step upping my fashion IQ (damn near everyone dresses well), along the same lines, everyone wears scarves and im a big fan of them, Tapas, Milk is uber cheap, parties start at 1 and end around 6, Access to Europe, Sagrada Familia.
Ive already booked flights to Dublin for St Patty's Parade and to London to see Livi in early March.
peaceeeeeeee <3 <3 <3
viernes, 8 de enero de 2010
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