Photobucket

Alyse and I got one for all of our pictures from the trip, because the only thing worse than someone who updates their status every time they think of something like it's twitter is someone who posts all of their photos from a trip. 

So if you want to see them, go to photobucket.com and search joebosan or linked here. 

The albums are on the left side and are still being uploaded at the moment. And will surely be edited by Alyse, who already wants me to take down this gem. 

Skirting the issue- Rant

We are here. Well, not really. The university is a little further out of Madrid then the brochure might have led one to believe. Close enough. 

With our ten days of travel now over, I have some good stories for you. One in particular is quite funny. 

Earlier, I bitched and bitched and bitched about the French being, yup you guessed it, bitches. Here's a good reason. 

Alyse and I are walking into the Sacre Couer, a nice cathedral near our hostel. Pretty, but when did Catholic churches start charging to see things inside of it? They were literally charging 4-5 euros to go see the chapel in the back with the blessed Eucharist. Let me tell you, when you have seen one eucharist, you've seen them all– that's the point. I guess this is why the French are mostly protestants (read: pagans). 

Anywho, when we are walking into the pews, some random-ass old indian guy, who looked as if a shovel had been taken to his face one time more than a hundred, approached us. No joke, his eyes went every which way other than straight. So when he grabbed Alyse by the arm and started scolding her, we were kind of weirded out. 

We don't speak French or whatever shit was coming out of his mouth, but it appeared that he was offended by the length of Alyse's skirt, which was quite modest by today's standards. "Mademoiselle...blah blah blah." 

He pointed at her skirt (I'm telling you, it was a fine skirt) and then pointed towards the exit. This fucker was making a scene in church. Get this, he didn't even work for the church. He was just some rando-fat-ugly-bastard. 

After he realized we weren't giving a damn what he thought, he stormed off in his bitch-ass french way– he surrendered. No one else had a problem with it or dared to confront Americans, whose grandfathers had saved their cowardly ancestors from Hitler. They should have thanked us.

Moral of the story, if you are only living because we saved you, then you should probably take it like you always have and keep your mouth shut. 

But this only ends the French section of the story. 

In Venice at St. Mark's square, we turn to part two of the story. They charge too. 

As we walked into the church, we were stopped by church employees, who made Alyse, wearing a very modest sundress, put on a scarf over her shoulders. They almost made her wrap one around her waist because her dress didn't quite cover her whole knee. 

The thing about this, is that they were charging a euro for the napkin they put on her. They didn't care about her modesty necessarily, because she was well-dressed. They were just trying to make a buck off the free entrance. Ridiculous. Oh and at the end of the walk around the church, they make you give back the napkins. 

I didn't realize a church could be such a profitable enterprise. Forget selling consumer products, let's take over a church and live like kings.

Here it was 4 euro to climb to the top (another 2 if you wanted to take the lift), 4 euro to see the chapel, and a euro per napkin. Pure insanity. I refuse to pay to be catholic. It was really bothersome and, as you can tell, it still is bothering me. 

The Vatican was better. Saw the pope and oddly enough he didn't stop the pope mobile as he went by to tell us that he had a problem with Alyse's fashion. The swiss guard didn't care, nor did the people running St. Peter's Basilica, nor the people at the Vatican museum, or at the Sistine chapel. It was refreshing. It did cost money to see the vatican museum, but it was well worth the 12 euros or whatever the cost. 

The pope was free. The point is, you shouldn't have to pay for religion and, as long as you are not in a bikini and are wearing clothes, you should have a place to worship. 

Thanks for reading the rant. Sorry, it probably wasn't that enjoyable. Therefore I offer you this joke as reparation. My dad told it to me. 

A woman, who has been married for twenty years, has recently taken issue with her sex life– her husband insists that they always have sex with the lights off. 3-5 times a week for the last 20 years, the lights were always off. It really bothered her. 

So one night, while she was having sex with her husband, she flicked the lights on. 

"What is that?" she exclaimed. 

"It's a dildo," her husband said. 

"Am I not attractive enough anymore?" She asked.

"No, no, it's not that."

"Well, what is it?"

"I'm impotent. Always have been. I did this, so you wouldn't leave me because of the no sex thing."

"Oh," she said. She was embarrassed. 

"Alright," he said.  "Now, you explain the 3 kids."

Venice Thought

This was an internet-less thought I had the other day while in Venice:

There's an American movie on our 12 inch tv, it's dubbed into Italian. I can't recognize any of the actors. It might not be Hollywood, but it's definitely not Italian. The German Shepherd is really smart. It knows things– I couldn't tell you what– other than that it is smarter than any dog on television. Air Bud was good, REX is better, well, at least I think his name is Rex. 

 We're in Venice now. It rained our last day in France. We were up at the Sacre Couer and it started pouring (it was supposed to be sunny). We had one sweatshirt. And as it became more and more obvious during our short stay in France, I have more manners than the entire Parisian population (read: Alyse wore the jacket). 

The French were rude. They climb over you in line. Bump into you in public without so much as a "sorry." And they generally only look out for number 1. 

The French are all " I guys." To translate, all we heard this whole trip was "Me, me, me, me, me," to which another person would respond with "No, me, me, me,me!" and on and on for days. 

The city was beautiful. We saw it all on a free tour with a company called NewEurope, who's guides work solely for tips. 

Oh, no gondola rides for us. A 100 euro a ride. Wait, what? Yeah, 100 euro a ride. Come on everybody, say it with me in unison– FUCK THAT.

World Tour- update

It is not my fault, the hostels do not have internet. I am literally writing on a computer that still runs on windows 95. Ouch. Oh and I cannot find the apostrophe so no contractions for today. Anyway, France was fun, but the people are bitches, more to come on that later. Right now, we are in venice on borrowed internet time, which is wacked. So there supposedly free internet in roma , where we will be the next few days, so expect posts. And then after that Spain for 5 weeks, where I will get back to my old daily schedule.
I hope this finds you well.

Europa

2 months. Here we go. 

Sporadic updates. Great Stories. And pictures. 

I'm about to make Europe my bitch.

Quote Bag

"Why are you always riding his ass?"

My father to me, regarding me bitching Jake around about everything, all the time.

Sex and the City

I am watching the movie, again. This time with my mom and my brother. 

I like this movie, which, as Jake and Bruno point out, is such a Samantha thing to say. Anyway, I really like this movie. 

It goes beyond the typical surface of the show. It has depth. It depicts serious problems that cannot be resolved with a Carrie Bradshaw one liner at the end of the episode. And most importantly the source of the problems are not blamed on the men. 

The problems are on both people, so to say that every problem is a result of a multitude of things. No, this isn't bitching about my relationship with Alyse, because anything that goes wrong in that one is always my fault, really, I'm not being sarcastic. We're perfect just for the record.

 But this movie says something about problems in general. It shows the audience both sides of the problem. It's hard to do that in the real world, especially when you are involved, but it's something worth trying. Take yourself out of the situation and ask what about me is causing this issue, even if you feel that it is all on someone else, you are at fault as well. 

I know I'm not the poster boy for this. I'm sorry. There, that's a start. So, if I've wronged you, then Fuck off, it's your fault– only kidding.

Give it a try. And watch the movie too.