Monday, April 26, 2010

Ways of saying No to a mass

In the small village where I live there exists a tradition where some Christian people come by during holy week(the week of Easter) from Madrid to pray and similar bullshits. The priest asks the inhabitants who usually go to mass to feed them for a day. Two people from Madrid to every Christian inhabitant’s house to have lunch. That’s pretty much how it works

So there I was, lying on the sofa petting my balls when my mother told me that the next day two unknown Christians from Madrid would come to eat with us. I laughed, I usually laugh with everything related with religion, I find it very funny, of course Christians don’t find that I find it funny, funny. They don’t think anything is funny actually.

Spain is full of fucking Christians, thank God most of us are just born Christian, we are not really believers, we don’t have much of any other religion so I don’t have more complaints. For some reason I couldn’t understand yet, I thought that two hot girls would come to my house. I related the words: “two Christians” with the words: “two hot women” (Did I say that I’m an idiot already right?).

So the next day I was expectant waiting for them to show up. As the hour was approaching, the more I started doubting: Well… they don’t have to be two hot girls, that would be crazy, but maybe just one, one hot girl isn’t an unrealistic thing, Spain is full of Christians and hot girls too… After awhile of fooling myself, they arrived, I saw them by the window first. A dude and a chick, in their thirties, he had a prick appearance and she was one of the ugliest human beings I’ve seen.

The polite shit started, the: “hello, my name is…, I work in…You have a beautiful place… bla bla bla” After that enriching introduction we sat to have lunch. Guess what was the topic at the table, oh yeah: Jesus is so great, God is amazing, the new pope is so lovely, the Virgin Mary is of the hook yo´… After sharing the greatness of Catholicism the Christian prick told us a story about how God had helped him in the past and why he was so religious now (Despite Woody Allen’s movies, Spaniards don’t speak English in private, so I’m going to translate for you how he told us his encouraging story and how the meal went).

Christian prick: A few years ago I was making the Santiago’s way (That’s a famous tradition in Europe, people walk hundreds of miles to the Cathedral of the city of Santiago de Compostela, some of them for religious matters and most of them for fun. It started as a piligrimage route but for most people its just the world’s longest hiking trail. The Christian prick was doing it for fun I guess) At one point I was at some villager’s house resting (Villagers feed and let people who are making the way to sleep in their houses, that’s a nice tradition) when I felt to the floor, everybody around worried and I didn’t know why, then I realized that I was in a Rottweiler’s zone, he was tied up, but he could reach me and he bit me… But the Divine Providence made that the dog in stead of clamping on to me, it let me go…Since them I have followed God’s ways and teachings

My father: God is always there for us

Ugly Christian: You are lucky He was there for you…

My mother: That breed usually bites so hard I can’t believe you are alive

Me: Did you really step into religion because of that experience?

Christian prick (Proud of himself and his shameful story): Yes, it was very refreshing

Me: Your story is awful sir, that’s all I can say right now

Christian prick (To my parents): Doesn’t he believe?

My mother: He is just joking, don’t pay him any attention…

Lunch went on like this for some time, stupid conversations about stupid God. Once we were done, dessert arrived, my father always has homemade liquors, he offered them to try one and since they were polite people who they had just met, they didn’t have the guts to say no. First of all, my father gave them a shot of some kind of moonshine (Agua ardiente in Spanish), if you don’t know, it is a really strong drink. They swallowed, it was pretty hard for the woman, but the guy took it really good, or he pretended to, my father understood that as a challenge I guess.

My dad started talking about how his brothers make that liquors at home, how he has a bunch of different flavours and how fucking great they are, the Christian prick stood pretending to be very interested in what my father was telling him, just being polite of course. Then my father offered him another kind of home made liquor, after pretending to be very interested, the guy couldn’t deny the offer and he took another shot of a strong drink. It wasn’t over yet, my father has a lot of Galician home made liquors and that guy was taking them very good so far.

After that, he offered another, this time the Christian refused, but my father insisted for a while: “This is lighter and tastier” The Christian took the lighter and tastier too, the spectacle had just started amusing me. The prick was already more pleased than a few minutes ago, but my father in his kindness thought that it would be a good idea to show him more of his liquors: “This one is strong, I won’t lie to you, but we made it with pieces of fruits and it tastes like fruit, try it, don’t be shy” And he wasn’t, the Christian prick took his fourth shot in five minutes, at that point he was already smiling more than ever before.

Christian prick (Hiding his retches): Oh I can feel the fruit… it tastes really good, strong but good…

My father (Filling the shot’s glass): You can have another, I don’t care, my brothers gave me a lot. Don´t be shy...

The guy waited for a minute and ignoring his friend’s advice he took his fifth shot at dessert. Then my mother brought coffee, before they started drinking it I had an idea, I was bored and getting that guy drunk by taking advantage of my father’s ignorance and kindness seemed like my best option to have some fun.

Me: Dad Why don’t you show them how we drink coffee around here?

He of course did, Galicia is a Celtic place, so our coffee is drunk as Irish coffee is (They are Celts too). He put moonshine on their cups, second shot for the woman, sixth for the man. I even laugh now recalling his face, that guy’s kindness and shyness put him really drunk that day. He was pretending to be fine, like if everything was normal around him, but I knew he was faking, that guy was worse than some guys at daybreak at pubs’closing time. That situation was really amusing me, so I kept forcing it.

Me: If he likes our Irish coffee, you should show him our coffee liquor dad

I thought that it was impossible, I just said that to make myself laugh, but my father took his home made coffee liquor (It is a tasty and strong drink with coffee flavour). He offered it to the prick, I mean, he filled the guy’s glass with it and gave it to him. The guy laughed uncomfortably saying that he didn´t want it trying to not being rude, after a few offers and a little bit insistence he took that shot too (Did I say that he was drinking home made wine at lunch?) The woman started to make moves to leave, they had to be at the priest’s place to sing at an afternoon mass or something like that.

The prick went to the bathroom and stayed there for a while, I think there was when the woman started to prepare the departure. But she ended talking with my father about “A Queimada” This is a Celtic tradition still alive where I live where people put moonshine liquor with other ingredients such as fruit or sugar, then they shut off the lights, burn it in the dark and while is fuming people say charms and when the flame expires they drink it. My father didn’t do the whole thing; but he took a clay saucepan, put some liquor on it, put sugar and burned it.

When the prick came back from the bathroom he witnessed the scene. Of course he couldn’t deny a shot of that mysterious liquid he had listened about but never saw because they don’t do it in Madrid. He ended having two shots making a total of nine shots in more or less twenty minutes. After the “Queimada” they left, honestly, the woman had to walk his friend out of the house (We found remnants of puke all over our bathroom after they left, it seemed like even though he was drunk, he was sober enough to put an effort in to cleaning it, didn’t succeed)

Of course before leaving, the woman as a Christian like she was, tried to evangelize me, that’s what Christians do, they need to make sure everybody around them loves their God

Ugly Christian: Are you coming to the mass this afternoon?

Me: Mmm…

Ugly Christian: You should, you really have to come, mass is really important. Do it for us, we are leaving pretty soon to Madrid, you have to come to mass please, you will feel better with yourself if you come Would you come to the mass please?

Me: Ok, I will go to your mass

She left happily. Of course I didn’t go to her stinky mass, I just told her I would to end that recriminatory conversation. I lied to her. I failed one of their ten commandments, I thought that maybe it wasn’t the best way of behaving. These are other ways of saying No to a mass:

Ugly Christian: Would you come to the mass please?

1/ I wish I could, but I’m not sure about my beliefs yet, I would feel uncomfortable in a Catholic mass with everybody believing in a thing I don’t believe in (Christians don’t give a fuck of what people think, they just want people in church to get their money)

2/ I’m not sure if I will, I have to read to the blind this afternoon, but you can go anyway, enjoy the sermon (Ironically I usually read sermons when I’m reading to the blind)

3/ I’m sorry madam, I relate Christianity with Nazism and I don’t want to be related with any of them (Would have I said something untrue?)

4/ Yes, I love masses, I really enjoy the shaking hands part, I like touching and petting old people (They are like big peanuts)

5/ The truth madam is that I’ll kill myself and my family before putting my foot in that devilish building (I will kill her too)

6/ Shut the fuck up fucking whore! You are in my fucking home! How dare are you to force me to go to a fucking mass? Fuck you and fuck your God! (Some honesty at last)

7/ Excuse me but I won’t go, you shouldn’t either, priests are full of shit. Why don’t you go upstairs with your drunken friend and pleasure him? (He was too drunk to care about her ugliness and she was too ugly to care about his drunkenness)

8/ They banned my entry in to church because I masturbated staring at Virgin Mary statues (She turns me on)

9/ I would love to go, but I dated the priest when I was a little kid and our relationship is still a bit uncomfortable (He hurt me in so many ways…)

10/ I’ll go if you suck my dick and swallow my cum in front of the altar at the Eucharist part (Jesus loves that shit, he was a hippie)

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Things I don´t do

There are some things people do and I don’t. I don’t know if everybody really does those things or just pretends to like myself, let’s check it out:

1/ On my birthdays with the candles and the cake, everybody around me forces me to make a wish when I blow the candles but I don’t do it. I just pretend to make a wish, when they ask me what I wished for I just tell them that if you say it, the wish won’t come true. That stupid excuse works perfectly (I wish I could fake the blowing the candles part too)

2/ When I find someone I know on the street or wherever I don’t get happy, it doesn’t excite me at all. But since everybody looks so excited and happy to find me on the street or wherever I have to pretend to be happy and excited (We are just two human beings who happen to know each other from the past and who happened upon each other )

3/ Sometimes I find myself in situations where everybody starts singing: birthday parties, family reunions, hanging out with friends, satanic meetings... I don’t sing, I just pretend to be singing, moving my lips and sometimes nodding my head too (I usually don’t even know the lyrics)

4/ I went to church a lot when I was a boy, in there everybody is praying, sitting down, standing up or on their knees. I didn’t pray, I just pretended to be praying, closing my eyes with strength and making a hopeful gesture while thinking about my own stuff (I bet God fakes that He is listening too)

5/ When I’m lost in my car and I ask someone for directions, I don’t pay any attention. I just pretend to be listening while nodding my head hoping the explanation ends (I usually get the first phrase, follow that indication and then ask again to another person)

6/ I don’t wash my hands after peeing, I have my cock clean and I don’t touch the toilet or the pee with my hands, but if I’m in a public restroom and someone is in there I have to wet my hands pretending that this is what I usually do (Ok, maybe I’m a pig, but what do you say about that useless hands driers they have in the public bathrooms How do they expect we get our hands dry?)

7/ When I’m playing soccer and I score a goal I don’t get excited, everybody else acts as if they have just won the lottery but I just walk to my position again shaking hands with my team mates (I don’t see the big deal of putting a stinking ball inside a stupid goal in a shameful soccer game with loser players like myself)

8/ When a kid plays chess, basketball or whatever his parents force him to do with me, I don’t let him win. And I don’t fake being impressed of untalented boys gifts when their parents force them to show me (parents should beware of their kids limits, that’s my contribution to humanity)

9/ When I’m in the bed with a woman and something goes wrong I don’t pretend to be surprised and apoligize(I’m here to be pleased not to please)

10/ When I have to go to a funeral of someone I hardly knew I’m not sad at all. I just pretend to be sad in front of everybody but when I can have a private moment with someone who has my confidence, I make dark jokes and we laugh (You can make dark jokes at my funeral if you want I won’t give a shit then)

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Reactions to a younger girl´s interest in a train

I was on a train around Europe with a friend and an Italian buddy of ours. We were tired and sleepy, when the team you were supporting wins its first title in fifty years you don’t get to sleep enough. The Eurocup had just finished, Spain had won it and our trip had ended. We had to get back to Spain, but we were broke in Austria using a soon expired Eurail passes. They are those all-you-can travel train tickets that people backpack across Europe with. Of course we didn’t have a seat (People with Eurail passes are victims of hate around those trains, watch out if you are willing to go)

So we were sitting on the floor near a bathroom, trying to get through the trip as well as we could. I really wanted to sleep but I couldn’t, I can in a train’s seat but I can’t on the floor while I have to constantly move out of the way for people with seats to get to the bathroom. My goal on that train was as simple as this: Get a fucking seat and sleep!

In the car in front of us was an excursion of a camp or something like that. It was full of teens, a group of five or six were staring at us and waving the whole time. I’m pretty ugly but sometimes I find girls who think I look exactly like the love of their lives. I guess some of them were on that train that day.

After waving, staring, screaming and going to the bathroom every five minutes, the interaction began. They were a group of five or six girls with no more than fourteen years. I was 21, my friend was 24 and I don’t have a clue about the Italian’s age, but he was older than me for sure. Those groups of teens are better organized than people think. They have a hierarchy, a strong leader, solids ranks, predetermined objectives, a well-studied way of working and the most important thing, they think they are unstoppable and they are probably right.

They sent two soldiers at the beginning to recognize the target. The soldiers were a fatty outgoing girl and a shyer regular one. They asked the typical teen questions: What are your names? Where are you from? Do you speak German? And English? What are you doing here? Can we stay here with you and talk? Can our friends come too? And we answered the typical idiot’s answers:

Me: - Prince Second
Friend: - Prince Third…
The Italian: - Francesco

Me: - I was born somewhere in the Sea while my mother was running away from the Spanish inquisition accused of witchcraft in an inflatable raft
Friend: We are twins…
The Italian: - I’m from Milano (Yes, the Italian didn’t go along with our humour very well)

Me: - Only in the privacy of my home
Friend: - I’m the one who he talks to…
Italian: - No, German is very hard

Me: - I tried once, not my thing
Friend: - I’m from NY but we don’t use it anymore back there
Italian: We are speaking English right now!

Me: - We went to the grocery and then we took a bus, later a train…
Friend: -Where are we?
Italian: - I’m travelling with some friends I’ll meet them in Innsbruck

Me: Do you have seats?
Friend: We don’t have much conversation, we can stare and smile though
Italian: Sure, Do you want to sit? (He was such a gentleman offering them a spot on the floor, Italians are way ahead from the rest of men)

Me: Did you mean older sisters?
Friend: Mums?
Italian: Yes, tell your friends they can come

They listened to the Italian and went to get the rest of the group, their mission was accomplished. We maintained a teen’s conversation for a while, it was like when you are twelve or thirteen and you talk with girls for the first times, but we were in our twenties. I can’t remember all of them; just the outgoing fatty, a regular one and a shy pretty one (Yes…) The thing that I do remember is that most of them were pretty daring.

From the beginning it was pretty clear that they were interested in us, they begged to take photos with us, they were excited and nervous and I have to say that we were enjoying the attention. After exploring the territory for a while they went into action. They started with the hook up questions:

Fatty: - Do you guys have a girlfriend?

Me: - Yeah, she is actually the train’s driver
Friend: - She is gone…death, but I didn’t do it… well yes, but I didn’t want to… she almost begged for it
Italian: - We broke up earlier this summer, it was painful after three years but we still… bla bla bla
(Are you fucking serious?)

Fatty: - Are you guys looking for one?

Me: - Yes, she actually disappeared two years ago Would you take a look to her picture?
Friend: - Yes, my blood thirst isn’t quenched yet
Italian: - I don’t think I’m ready to get involved in another relationship
(Dude… you need one with a shrink).

Fatty: - Do you think my friend is cute? (an ugly one).

Me: - Mmm…
Friend: - Mmmm…
Italian: - Mmmmm…

Fatty: - Do you think my other friend is cute?
(the shy and pretty one).

Me: - Mmm…
Friend: - Mmmm…
Italian: - Yes, I bet a lot of guys are after her

Fatty: - Do you think I am cute?

Me: - Mmm… Look how beautiful is that lake!
Friend: - Awesome lake!
Italian: - What lake?
(There isn’t lake buddy…)

Fatty: - Do you like anyone of us?

Me: - I think that you are not the worst human beings I have talked with
Friend: - That’s because I’m the worst human being he has talked with
Italian: - I would have to try you first je je (…)

While we were talking to them the rest of the more and less thirty teens in the camp were staring at us, proud of their daring girls making that situation ever weirder. Then my problem started. There was that girl, the pretty and shy, she was really cute, blond, nice smile, lovely, really beautiful… I would have fallen in love with her in the first second if I was fourteen but I was twenty-one. Her friends made her sit right on my side, forcing her to talk to me, but she was too shy and she blushed. I guess I got the pretty one of the group for once… (Score!)

For a while the conversation was only focused in hook up us together, and that was uncomfortable. I was single, the girl was pretty… But she was fourteen! It wasn’t a sex thing, she wouldn’t blow me or fuck me in that train, I wouldn’t try either of course (I swear) It was more like a platonic thing, fourteen years old love, hold hands, two kisses, nervous smiles… I needed to get out of there.

My friend helped me out, I didn’t want her to feel rejected or hurt or whatever, she was a sweet kind shy girl. So we told them we were too old for them, that we didn’t know Austria’s laws but that we thought that was a crime, and that we agreed on that. Honestly I always had a weird thing with younger girls, I don’t know why, but I always tried to hook up with older or same age girls, I would have felt really bad with a girl two years younger; I can’t imagine with an eight years younger.

With the help of my friend and after going to the bathroom, didn’t know how to lock the door. Pissing sitting down because trains move and I don’t like piss in my shoes. Witnessing how an old woman opened the door and everybody around the bathroom watched me pissing sitting down in a toilet. I could get out that situation. We convinced them that I was very tired and needed a sit, they offered their seats and I went to sit down while they kept talking to my friend and the Italian guy, who by the way acted like he was jealous instead of helping me out to get through that situation (We lost contact with him pretty soon)

Once on the seat trying to sleep, everybody of that camp excursion was staring at me. I couldn’t sleep at all, even though I had accomplished my train’s goal, I was nervous, the whole thing with the younger girl had disconcerted me. I kept thinking about how pretty she was, how she looked almost seventeen, how I look almost seventeen too, how I had taken advantage of a fourteen sweet shy girl and her friends to get a seat on the train, how I became a selfish person. I started feeling bad, I thought that my reaction wasn’t the most appropriate one. These are some better reactions to a younger girl’s interest in a train:

1/ Speak with honesty to the girl, tell her that she is pretty and that she must be worth a lot, but due to the difference of our ages our love is impossible (Of course, teenagers always run away from impossible loves)

2/ Tell her that I like her, give her a kiss. Get off on the next station pretending to be crying, waving from the outside to her while my friends console me (I have always wanted to wave to someone in a train station while crying)

3/ Exchange our personal information. Mail her and phone her everyday until she turns eighteen and then start a platonic relationship (She would wait for sure…)

4/ Once I was pissing sitting down exposed to everybody, call her and make her watch the spectacle (Her love would have ended there)

5/ Beg for her mother’s number (She was a beauty)

6/ Bring her to Spain. Isolate her of the rest of the world. Educate her by myself modelling her personality to be my perfect wife (I’d try to make her happy too)

7/ Ask the Italian to fuck her and leave me alone (He was seriously and dangerously interested)

8/ Make out with her and feel like a boy again (My life would have been very different then)

9/ Assume the state of a pederast and molest her (That’s what my teachers did with me)

10/ Take her to my house, lock her in the basement for years, have kids with her and then have kids with the kids (That’s pretty trendy in Austria)

Reasons why nobody reads my blog

I started with this blog because an American cousin of mine asked me to. After coming back home from a trip to the US I sent him an email in English (We usually speak Spanish between us). He found it funny and told me I had to write a blog in English. I thought it would be a good way to improve my English so I started.

I’m the kind of person who should write a blog because I’m weird and weird things happen to me. Not only weird things, but unlucky and curious things too. If you and I are walking on the street and a bird shits you should calm down, it will land on my head, all over my hear, it will slide down my face and get in to my eyes; getting them itchy. And this probably will occur in front of an attractive group of females. (Oh yes…)

Once I was waiting for a bus to get back home after a night out. It was ten or eleven am (You know how Spain is) I had just moved to the country and to get to my house I needed to take two buses, one to a remote village and then another to an even more remote village where I live. I was waiting in the first remote village bus stop (A bus stop there is a stick in front of a house) I was pretty dizzy and tired after a whole night out.

Suddenly I saw a horse running in my direction really fast, I was standing up so when I saw the horse, I jumped out of the way. The horse kept running and crashed to a house’s window smashing it in to pieces and then it kept running down street. The residents of the house got out very nervous and started studying the damages, then the horse’s master arrived looking for his animal very concerned. They got in to an argument and since I was the only witness I had to answer a lot of questions and even calm down the heated discussion. I found myself hungover in the middle of a discussion I didn’t belong in and I was the most important factor in it (in the end, I think the house’s insurance paid for the window and wall).

Once I almost died when I was riding an old bike. I have very bad luck with bikes, since I was a kid I have broken almost every bike I’ve touch, always random things. But that day I was riding a bike without brakes in the really remote village where I live. I had just moved there so I didn’t know the roads, the one where I was going started to slope and I couldn’t stop so I tried to enjoy the descent. But after a kilometre or so a sharp bend appeared, a normal guy would have just crashed and hurt himself more or less seriously, but not me. It turned out that the curve was actually a little bridge over a dry stream, five meters high more or less. No security at all, just a little tiny curb, a curb where my front wheel crashed, flipping me over and making me fell down.

Thankfully, instead of falling down directly over the rocks and on to the ground, I went over some bushes and I rolled down to the rocks. My bike stayed up in the road and I ended up down a fucking bridge bleeding like hell on my legs and arms. The funny thing is, I got stuck in there, it was too high, it took me over twenty minutes to get back to the road and I had to climb, then I had to walk almost two kilometers to my house, uphill, I didn’t want to even touch that bike anymore and riding a bike uphill is harder than walking up. When I arrived home there were some relatives in there. A cousin, the bike’s owner, took care of my wounds; then she and her mother asked me to lead them to the place I crashed to pick up the bike.

We went in my aunt’s car, when we arrived to that bridge they saw two puppies almost dead on the riverbank on the other side of the bridge. They went down and started to take care of the dogs, I was injured and didn’t want to wait there. I just wanted to rest on a sofa or a bed. I begged them to drive me back home, but they didn’t want to. I ended walking up the road again, two fucking kilometres again (One puppy was already dead, the other was ok until my uncle run over him with his car a few weeks later).

Once I was taking exams in the closest city from my house, a thirty minute drive. I was 22 and was studying to getting the adult’s high school degree, like a GED in the US. I had to study at home, the syllabus was online and I didn’t have to go to classes, just go once a term to make the exams, ten exams in two days. My future was very uncertain (still is) and I needed to really get that degree, that’s maybe the reason why I was really nervous. I didn’t study very much, but I had read the subjects and made a lot of crib sheets.

During the first exam I felt a call of nature (I’m not always shitting myself, I swear). I ignored it and kept writing, it took me a long time to finish that exam so when I was done the other exam just had started and I couldn’t go to the bathroom. I started taking the exam but the needs increased, I farted a lot, really disgusting smells, and everybody around noticed it, I made the usual, look to another person with a bad recrimination face (that works).

But it go to the point where I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to leave the exam, of course where I live they don’t allow the people who are studying adult education to go to bathroom in the middle of exams and I had to give in the exam after fifteen or twenty minutes. Of course in that fucking school there wasn’t paper in the toilets and of course I got exasperate and thought the best idea would be taking my car and drive home. It was a thirty minute drive almost shitting the hell out of myself, that was the second closest time I almost shit on myself (you already know the first). By the way, I failed all the exams but two, one was the English exam Guess what was the other? (I guess I got superhuman powers from the shit, I wrote everything I could before leaving, but I didn’t know too much of that subject)

I have hundres of stupid stories like these. One summer I went to a cousin’s wedding, another cousin and I after the mass went hiding and smoke a few joints. We arrived late to the banquet and everybody was seated, my cousin sat in the only spot left at the youth table and I had to sit in the table with the older people in the other corner of the room surrounded by annoying elderly people and I was a little bit high. Then after the meal, when the dances started I was taping how the only pretty woman in the place was dancing when a thirty year old man who I didn’t know asked me:

Thirty year old man: Hey tío ¿Tienes novia? (Hey man, Do you have a girlfriend?)

Me: ¿Por qué? ¿Eres marica o que? (Why? Are you a fag or something?)

He didn’t take that answer well and he tried to fight me, the people held him and I just ignored him. Later I found out that I was taping his girlfriend and they weren’t happy with that. I didn’t realize it, I just was taping things; the only hot woman there appeared in my camera and I kept rolling. Then someone asked me if I had a girlfriend and I answered the first thing that came to my mind.(The guy that tried to fight me was my cousin’s wife’s cousin, and nobody was happy with the incident, it seemed like everything was my fault)

A few months ago my dentist got mad at me because I didn’t attend an appointment, they really hate that, he told me that I distorted his whole morning. I apologized to him the next time, but our relationship never has been the same. What I never told him is that I went to his clinic that morning, but before I stepped in the building I stepped on a fucking disgusting dog’s crap, tried to clean it but couldn´t because there wasn’t any water or grass around. For a couple of minutes I wandered around searching for a place where I could get my sneaker clean, but I didn’t, I got tired and I was pissed off, so I took my car, drove twenty minutes with shit smell and cleaned the sneaker at home.

Weird thins happen to me, all the time, that’s why I thought that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to write a blog. Share my adventures with the people who actually live a normal life, share my miseries. But when I started to write it I found out that nobody was reading it. These are my reasons why nobody reads my blog:

1/ It’s probably too early to expect a lot of readers, I just have to wait for one to show up and then gradually the blog would get more successful (Nothing I have done, do or will do would get more successful or successful)

2/ I chose a bad website, people don’t go on it. Plus I don’t know many people who understand English to tell them about my blog (I relate better with illiterates)

3/ People are only interested in real sex experiences blogs (Fiction is just not my thing)

4/ Readers just like family blogs, those ones that talk about how good life is, how tall the kid is getting, how in love the writer is with this new guy/girl/dog/cat/house/car, how bad his or her classmates were with the writer in the past or how some foreign country bank ripped the writer off (Yeah, that’s real literature)

5/ People think that my humour is beyond their minds. They worship me but they can’t follow me or understand me (I get it, same thing with women happens to me)

6/ They don’t read it because I am white (We are in 2010 I think it’s time to accept every race but gypsies)

7/ Readers fear me, they think I’m an unstable person and I will kill them if they read my blog (They are wrong I try to only kill people who really deserve it)

8/ The world hates me, in fact my life is in danger because of this blog (Your life is in danger because of this blog too)

9/ This blog really sucks, my stories aren’t funny at all, in fact they are offensive to women, kids, the elderly, men, blacks, gypsies, Jews, Asians, Native Americans and whites. My ten options are predictable and dreadful. My English is too bad too and they get more annoyed at every word they read (I’m not a racist, I even talked to a nigger once and I’m not sexist at all, I love cunts and those things around them)

10/ People are not interested in a sex offender’s blog (I’m not interested in readers who aren´t sex offenders)

Friday, April 9, 2010

Reactions to a call of nature in Salzburg

Once, a friend and I spent a month backpacking by train around Europe. Our plan was to attend every match that Spain played on the Eurocup and to travel around in between the match days. We learned something: Pissing and shitting is expensive in Europe, in the US and Spain you can do it in several places, for free. In the middle of Europe you have to pay, and shitting is more expensive than pissing (I guess that makes sense)

One night we arrived in Salzburg, we checked in to a cheap hotel and went out to have some drinks. The city was great and the pub’s zone wasn’t bad, we went to one of the few Irish pubs and started drinking beer (Madly expensive by the way).

We were just sitting at the bar drinking and checking the people out, my friend was writing ideas on the coasters, I realized he must have had a lot of ideas when I saw that he was stealing coasters all over the place. It was crowded, there were majority dudes but there were some girls too, as usual the prettiest was the waitress. She looked somewhat interested in us, we probably were the only foreigners there that night.

When you spend weeks travelling, sleeping on trains, showering and going to the bathroom in train’s stations (paying for it) and eating just Kebaps, your body starts to be unpredictable. That night we paid for a hotel, I could have a shower and use a private toilet, but even though I tried, I couldn’t shit, I thought I just didn’t have to go and forgot about it.

But while sitting in that pub waiting to make a move on the waitress and start a conversation and probably an unhappy marriage, my stomach started talking, you know how it goes, you drink something cold, it wakes up your tummy and suddenly you really have to shit. That’s truly annoying, you try to convince yourself you can hold on, that it will disappear after a few minutes, but you’re wrong, every second is worse than the previous.

I went to the restroom, it was the classic pub bathroom; a broken sink, a disgusting chamberpot and a stinky toilet without paper behind a broken door full of names written on it. I wasn’t drunk at all, if I was I’d maybe shit there anyway, but when you are completely sober even though you are in a pub you don’t want to take a shit in front of other people without paper to wipe your ass. So I decided to ask my friend for the hotel’s key and go there to unload.

The only problem was that I was in an absolutely unknown city, I didn´t know anybody and I was broke, I had spent my money in that hotel that I was trying to find. I recalled more than twenty minutes of walking from the hotel to the pub’s zone but didn’t exactly recall the direction, plus I could hardly walk, the call of nature was really strong. I wandered around the city’s drunken youths pretending I was ok and just going somewhere I knew. It’s funny, I know that it’s impossible, but when you are suffering an unexpected call of nature, you think everybody around notices it, you think they are laughing at you and making fun of your misery (They probably were laughing at me and making fun of one of my others miseries though)

After fifteen or twenty minutes walking around trying to find something I could remember, a house, a store, something that made me find the direction to my hotel without success. I had to make another decision, I was going to shit in my pants if I didn’t change my strategy. I assumed I wasn’t going to find my hotel and just started to look for some other hotel, hostel, whorehouse or whatever place with a light inside.

I found a hotel, it was early, not 1:00 am yet I guess, a man was at the front desk. I asked him if I could use a bathroom. He asked me if I was a guest in his hotel. I said no. He said I couldn’t use his bathroom. I was suffering and didn’t have strength enough to get involved in an argument (Besides my English was even worse than now and his was awful too, of course nobody speaks Spanish around there)

I kept walking the deserted streets cursing that guy. On top of my needs to shit, piss needs were added. It came as a surprise, I didn’t pay attention to the piss before because of the shit, but before I knew it, the piss was almost getting out. There wasn’t a chance, I wasn’t going to make it. I had to piss on the street. When I was about to do it, a group of mature people appeared and I had to wait and act like if I was studying the street’s walls and bin containers.

When they left I could piss, but it wasn’t a relief, in fact pissing made my needs to shit bigger. Of course, nobody was in the street, but when you take out your dick a lot of people show up. I tried to go through that with the most dignity possible, the people passed by me and some of them said things in German and laughed. I pretended to be so focused on my activity that I couldn’t even notice their presence.

I ended and still walking hoping my hotel just appeared in front of me. When I was walking I saw a party in a house, there were topless women in the window screaming, smoking and laughing. Imagine how bad I was that I just kept walking looking for my hotel.

I was swearing a lot. I started shivering. I really needed to shit. My clock’s countdown was ending. I have to clarify that of course it wasn’t a regular crap, I had a diarrhea one. I can hold a regular shit. For God sakes! I’m not fifteen anymore…

I tried in another place, I can’t remember what exactly it was, hotel, restaurant, can’t remember. I begged for a bathroom but in Europe they don’t respect nature, their bathrooms are holy for them, not everybody can use them. I asked for help to find my hotel, I told them I was lost, they weren’t concern. They asked me about the name of my hotel, but I didn’t know it. I just left downcast.

After an hour searching for a bathroom, everything started to become really confused. I started to talk to my self out loud convincing my self I wouldn’t shit on myself while lost in an unknown city. I got in to a discussion with a bum who spoke Spanish with a Basque accent. I shared my misery with a really drunk lonely villager. A bouncer denied me entry to his whorehouse for using his bathroom, he spoke English or Spanish, I don’t remember, he told me they didn’t have a bathroom in there (that explains a lot of things doesn’t it?)

Don’t ask how or when, but at some point I recognized a monument on a roundabout, followed my instinct and found my hotel. As soon as I got in the bathroom’s room I started to shit like if I was a fucking fountain. I stayed there sitting on the toilet for a long time, not just shitting or wiping, but resting and calming down too. When I was done I washed my hands, my face and changed all my clothes. I didn’t shit on myself, but I sweated so much my clothes were sticking my skin.

It took me a lot of time to find the pub’s area after I left the hotel, but walking after being relieved is easier. When I got into the Irish pub it was almost empty, sleepy drunk people or drunk couples without a hotel room were the only things I could find there, the usual leftovers of that kind of place. I looked for my friend and he was almost asleep in a corner watching a pre-recorded broadcast soccer game that we had just watched in the stadium a few days before. The waitress wasn’t there anymore, the party was completely over. My night in Salzburg sucked because I didn’t know how to react to a call of nature. Now I have thought about it and I have found some better reactions than the one I chose that night:

1/ Go to the pub’s bathroom. Take the shit, wipe my ass with my hand. Wash my hand without water or soap because there wasn’t any. Get out of the bathroom. Shake everybody’s hand on my way back to the bar (Do you think I’d be the first one?)

2/ Confess my problem to the waitress and ask for her help (That would have turned out in love for sure)

3/ Get drunk quickly. Shit in my pants. Pretend that it never happened and continue with the party (I would be famous in Salzburg now)

4/ Shit in my pants. Blame my friend. Accuse him of the smell (I think he shit in his pants anyway)

5/ Jerk off (Why not? It’s always pleasant)

6/ Get naked pretending to be very drunk. Dive in to Salzburg’s river and take a submarine shit (Those are the best ones)

7/ Hold it until I died (I’d have a funny grave at least)

8/ Look for a church and shit inside it (Jesus would have understood it)

9/ Once I found the first hotel where they rejected me, take down my pants and shit on the hall’s floor (I would have shit all over myself too because I don’t know how to shit without a toilet but it would have been worth it anyway)

10/ Get in the house with the topless women and begin a shit, piss, puke dirty sex party (They would have agreed to that request for sure).

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Ways of saying No to a video tape

I’ve been in the States for a couple months due to some different reasons, one of them was that I wanted to learn English. I stayed with some relatives that live there and they signed me up in an English academy. I wasn’t very excited with the idea of going to class, that’s something I stopped doing when I was fourteen. Then they showed me a picture of my teacher on the school’s website. The first day I was there fifteen minutes early

Before describing this peculiar language school. I have to tell you how I got into Shakespeare´s tongue in the first place. I have a bunch of American’s relatives and I have studied this language in school since I was four. Despite that I didn’t know shit until I started to study by myself when I was twenty. My first teachers were Rachel, Ross, Chandler, Phoebe, Monica and Joey; then I fired them and jumped into Jerry, George, Kosmo and Elaine (I found them funnier). When I was able to understand them I hired Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, that selection made several modifications in my way of talking, but I wasn´t done, when the Italians weren´t saying anything new to me I switched them for Tupac Shakur, Biggie Smalls, Marshall Mathers and Jay Z. Then was when I got the level I have now (And yes, my spoken English is kind of weird)

With that mixture of slangs, I went to the language school. It was a medium-sized academy, pretty new and with a lot of different female teachers teaching a lot of different languages, from English to Farsi passing through Japanese or Spanish. The only guy working there was the one who was leading the place, young, in his early thirties probably. Only a few seconds after meeting him I realized that I was dealing with a teacher pimp. He was too nice even for an american polite person. He introduced me to some different women making me wonder If he was offering me them and I had to chose one

They had a free trial lesson, group classes and "private" lessons. My relative paid for a month of group classes before I went to the free trial lesson. The guy told us that they were teaching only one level of English but in the near future they would make a separation and teach two different levels, low and medium. We weren’t sure about which one I would fit in.

Then I get into the class, six students, two Indians, four Mexicans, a cute teacher and me. First of all I introduced myself, then the others started, I was trying to find out which student´s level I was facing when one of the Indians started:

- Hello... ummm... My self is... Toupurt?

I couldn’t help it and I laughed, they gave me bad looks and I tried to hide my guffaw with more or less success. The others introduced themselves too and then I went pale when I realized that Toupurt was the most promising student there

At the house I told my relatives that I was at a higher level than the others students, but since they were going to separate the class we decided to hold on. I attended for almost a month two days per week and nothing changed (Well, not 100% true, one of my two teachers started to look very interesting for me but... What the hell! You know her already) I told my relatives that we should try the "private" lessons, I guess I mean, I told them to pay the money they earn with hard work so I could spend time alone with my teacher. They thought that was a pretty fine idea and next day I asked the pimp for the private lessons price, then he became my hero. The rate was like 500$ per month. One class a week! (It would be worth more if they paid me for prostitutes and I talk to them while nailing them)

Of course they found it too expensive and they didn’t want to pay all that money for me to go to the private lessons, but I continued attending to the group lessons for another month telling them I was learning some things (I did in fact, not about English but about life: Indians and Mexicans are not the smartest people out there) So there I was, learning how to say my name and age in English while exchanging silly looks with my cute teacher (Or that´s what I thought I was doing). Time passed by and I had to come back to Spain, I said good bye to the people there and then to the pimp, but he had other ideas on his mind, he was too much of a visionary to just let me go.

He told me that he wanted to talk with me, I said ok, I don’t avoid probably really strange situations, but two female friends who were new students were talking with him, they had just done the free trial lesson and were deciding if whether to sign in or not. They were Mexicans of course, they didn´t know shit of English, but that´s understandable, they only had been living in the US for two years... I had to translate, because the pimp didn´t know Spanish and they weren´t able to communicate. Then I found out that translators have the power, they are more powerful than Superman.

Mexicans: - Dile que nuestro nivel es demasiado bajo, no entendiamos nada de lo que decían ahí dentro (Tell him that our level is too low, we couldn´t understand a thing in there)

Me: - This isn´t what they expected, they are not happy with you

Pimp: - Oh... What seemed to be the problem?

Me: - Este dice que para eso estáis aquí, que tenéis que aprender Inglés de una puta vez (This guy said that´s the reason why you guys are here and that you have to learn English for fucking once)

Mexicans: - ¿Dijo eso? Dile que no estamos seguras, que no entendimos nada de nada, necesitamos cosas más basicas, empezar de un nivel más bajo ( Did he? Tell him that we are not sure, we understand absolutely nothing in class, we need more basic things, start with a lower level)

Me: - They feel betrayed, they thought they were coming to a serious place. The level is too low for them, they felt like if they were with retarded students inside that room

Pimp: They can´t even talk to me!!

Me: El tontin este no está contento con vosotras, dice que si después de dos años viviendo aquí no entendeis... quizas seais demasiado lentas para su academia (This prick is not happy with you, he says that if after two years in the US you don´t understand anything… maybe you are too slow for his academy)

Mexicans: ¿Dijo eso? Tiene razón, pero al tener la tele, los amigos y todo en español… (Did he? He is right, but since we have everything in Spanish: Tv, family and friends…)

The thing went like this for more or less twenty minutes, I don´t remember everything I said, but in one point it get difficult, boring and dangerous. Maintain a double, triple or whatever the fuck conversations that I was having at the same time is harder than I thought (Of course the Mexicans didn´t sign in)

Then the pimp thanked me for my help, carried me to a private room and asked some stupid questions about my experience in his academy, I answered with more honesty than I could imagine and then he put the whole thing straight, his whole plan.

Pimp: - Would you want to talk about your experiences here in front of a videocamera?

Me: - … (…)

Pimp: - It’s for our website…

Before I knew it, we were going to another room, a more isolated one. He put me in front of a wall, took his camera and started taping and asking me questions about my English and my experiences in the academy. I was confused, frightened. I felt like a teenager facing her first amateur sex tape with an older unknown fat man for fifty bucks. I answered his questions and pray and hope that situation ended. That was one of the lowest points of my life (The video is not on their website yet, I´m desperly looking forward to watch it)

The funny thing is that it seemed like I had learned all my English in only two months there. Of course that was the whole idea of the pimp; he was taking advantage of me. I knew it but I just blanked, I couldn´t say no and avoid a really uncomfortable situation, later I thought about it and it didn’t seem so difficult to say no. These are some ways of saying no to a video tape:

Pimp: - Would you want to talk about your experiences here in front of a videocamera?

1/ No, as a matter of fact I don´t want to sir (Hard?)

2/ Oh sorry, right now I am in a hurry sir, I’ll come back tomorrow if you want (Wouldn’t work, I’d probably come back next day, I’m really stupid)

3/ I´m sorry sir, I help poor children at nights, in fact I´m late, they must be with the glue already (That´s a funny way of getting high, I love those kids)

4/ Sure, I would love it, unfortunately my grandpa is really ill, he might die tonight, I have to say goodbye to him in the hospital, but you can come if you want, bring your camera! (An old man’s death video would be happier than me telling with my accent how great was that fucking school)

5/ No! Are you fucking retarded? I didn´t learn shit here Aren´t you aware of that? I speak exactly the same as I spoke two months ago. I only kept coming because I am a man and due to that fact I want to introduce my penis into my teacher´s vagina. But I´m not going to give any credit to your disgusting school because of that (Sure you wont asshole!)

6/ I could do that sir, but the truth is that I hate you, and your fucking school and I´d probably release my anger towards you and the place in that tape and your little silly commercial wouldn´t work as you expect (It didn´t anyway, it was lame)

7/ Yes! Let´s do this dude! I´m looking forward to tell everybody how I jerked off in every single corner of this building (Not true, I just did it five or six times and always in the bathroom)

8/ Why not? Let´s do it! And later we can tape how I introduce produce up your ass and urethra too (He would probably enjoyed that shit, he was odd)

9/ No, Fuck you! (Yes, Fuck him!)

10/ I love snuff movies. Do you have a pistol? We can use mine (I don´t have one but I bet he does, those teachers would have run away from that place if he didn´t have one)

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Reasons why my teacher doesn´t answer my mails‏

She appeared to be an average almost hot woman with some intelligence. We flirted in some weird ways even though we were surrounded by peculiar Indians and traditional Mexicans. Honestly I think I was the only normal person in that academy and I´m very far from normality.

When I told her I was leaving her country she told me that she was coming to Spain in May and she made an emphasis on seeing each other and grabbing some beers. I found that interesting. If I go out to drink with her thousands of miles away from the place we met, after a couple beers wild dirty sex might arrive. So I gave her my personal information, I wrote it in my English notebook and tore it out. She gave me her Office of the attorney general´s card and she hugged me. I didn´t know how that kind of things work yet so I patted her back with my hand three or four times. I read her card and found out that besides working as a teacher, she works as a constituent services manager. I´m a unemployed without money and studies, but I still thought I had a chance to tap her ass

After shooting a video for the English academy where I made a fool of my self and gave some free publicity to the place, I was ready to leave on my bike, but she was still there, I thought she was waiting for me, she asked me to mail her three times. I acted like I didn´t know if I would. I mailed her next day:

Hey teacher

How are you? I'm just here thinking about how stupid I am for didn't tell you that I'm going to be here another week, just in case you want to have a coffee or something. I guess I would like to get to know you a little better. I don't know how serious was that of see me in Spain, but I think it would be a bit weird if we do that and I don't tell you that I'm still here now. So if you have time and you want let me know and I'll bother you again


I waited for two days for a response, I started thinking my mail sucked, but she answers friday morning:


How are you?

Glad you're still in town! Let me know your plans this weekend and
maybe we can grab coffee or a drink.

Even though she didn´t look very excited in her mail I thought my chances had just multiplied. I was leaving that Friday to the Grand Canyon, I was going to be out the whole weekend. I decided to wait to answer and play the interesting busy guy, when of course I´m not. I emailed her back on Sunday night:


I'm sorry I went to the grand canyon this weekend and couldn't check my mail. I'm leaving next saturday, believed or not during the week I take care of a two year old girl at mornings, but then I don't have much to do. I go around on a bike so I can't go too far... I think you are a busy girl for some reason but if you have time let me know, if you can't is not a problem, I'll see you in Spain

I waited for her response for a week but it didn´t arrive, I left the States but her mail didn´t show up, after a week in Spain I decided to end with any kind of pride in me and mail her again, I was approaching the stalker zone, I knew that and I emailed her anyway. The classic mail that tries to say that I don´t give a fuck she didn´t answer me:


How is it going? I didn´t get news from you. I hope everything is ok

She didn´t respond to this email either. These are my reasons why she isn´t answering my mails:

1/ She loves me, she is really scared of her feelings, she´s just fighting against her heart convincing herself I´m too much for her and I will hurt her (She´s right almost about everything)

2/ She fell in love with me, she thinks she is not ready to give in to me, she is actually a virgin, she wants to marry me, she´s afraid to put that straight (She´s clearly unstable, I´d marry her though)

3/ She has strong feelings for me, she thinks I´m the most handsome guy she has ever seen, she really likes me, but she is into the no sex with students policy (I understand, I shared class with the Mexicans and Indians)

4/ She doesn´t have an internet conection, she only can mail people when she goes to the library (She never goes to the library)

5/ She has internet conection, she is reading my mails, she wanted to fuck me, she is a whore, she fucked every cool, average and nerd guy in college. She noticed that I lyed to her in my response and she just decided to fuck some other random guy in stead (I´m a whore too but my hand will take care of me this time)

6/ She is confused, she just was being polite to one of her students, she was up for going out with friends and meeting me somewhere with my friends, but that was it (I don´t have friends, I spent my time with a forty year old couple and their superhuman children)

7/ My English is worse than I think, I just scared her with my language, she thinks I want to rape her (She is not 100% wrong)

8/ She is afraid, she just gave me her card because I gave her mine, she doesn´t want to ever see me again. I´m just a weird Spaniard missing a tooth who is ugly and acts like he is the most handsome guy in earth. She is hoping my mailing habit ends (Oops, didn´t see that coming)

9/ She has a boyfriend, she is in a serious relationship, she is a serious person with two serious jobs who lives with a serious guy with two serious jobs. She gave me her personal information by mistake, she couldn´t help it, she didn´t want to be rude with one of her students, she regrets that. She doesn´t know what to do, my mails concern her, she consulted with her boyfriend and they are calling the police (I still think that I have a little chance with her)

10/ She is married, happily. She changed her mail as soon as she arrived home after exchanging her personal information with me, she can´t believe that I tried to ask her out, she thinks she is way out of my league (The bitch is right)