We are number 1!!!!

We’re number 1! We’re number 1!...in corruption.. (cue in Prices Right fail music.)
A week ago some international watchdog organization, I don’t know which one, one of the important ones I suppose because people have been making large deal about, voted Liberia number 1 in corruption in the world. That’s right, we beat out the mighty Nigeria to hold the number one spot in corruption. Now in general speaking I love being number or the best, that’s why I love Jayhawk basketball, but in this case it kinda hurts. I mean we beat out Nigeria, really, that country has been stealing, or trying to steal, my credit card information for years. Nigeria has just gotten lazy in corruption I guess, or more stringent on their anti-corruption laws. It depends on how ya wanna look at it. I prefer they have gotten lazy and we have won! Good on us! Anyhwo the best part does not stop with us being number one in corruption the best part comes right here: of all the sectors that are corrupt in the country, police, health, finance, everything, EDUCATION is number 1. Education is the worst, the most corrupt part of this country. So in the most corrupt country in the world I work in the most corrupt sector. That fills me with all sort of something that is the opposite of happiness and pride. Needless to say this country needs work, but have no fear I am on the job! O shit this country is in trouble…

In other news I have gone America all over this countries ass today! And while this has nothing to do with corruption or my fighting of it, it makes me happy. Today I started my day by waking up at 10:30! Boom! Now that’s some fucking sleeping in bitches! After I arose from bed I scooted on my trust chacos and made for the door. I walked out in the blasting furnace that is the December heat of Liberia and headed for the grocery store. I walked past several street vendors all yelling random insults, and or kind comments trying to get me to look their varied goods, I passed by them and walked down a short side street onto the sidewalk to has been permanently sullied black as satans soul by the selling of coal. I smile at the 20 woman selling coal trying to get the $1.25 a day most Liberians live on and keep on rocking to the grocery store (while we are number 1 in corruption we are only number 8 in poverty, with countries like Somalia, Mali, and number 1 Niger beating us out). As a side note coal pots is what majority of people cook there food on in this country, so coal is a huge market, I mean they sell more coal than America sells porn, but only because most people in America are getting there porn free on the internet these days. Anywho after reaching my destination that is the grocery I proceeded to order a delicious toasted sub sandwich (ala Quiznos), than I bought a Dr. pepper that’s right the mother fucking 23 flavored soda pop with a degree of the highest education, and also found the Dr’s good friend, the king of beers Budweiser! I found the king in the country and while in America I am a banquet beer man (only a man drinks from the yellow can) I will admit that Bud is the most American American mans beer there is. I of course bought it to accompany the rest of my American celebration. I went on to find a jelly donut and a slim jim. (Snap into a slim jim! Do you guys ever wonder what happened to macho man randy savage?) I came back to my little monk cell in the convent and proceeded to crush on the food and beverages until my belly hurt from over eating. In case you are wondering over eating in a country where most of the people are living on $1.25 (83.9% live in poverty, with 83.9% living on a $1.25 a day info courtesy of Oxford University) a day does make you feel like shit, big time, but sometimes I gotta embrace my americaness to stay sane, even if it makes me a dick rod. Stop judging me, STOP IT. And while all the food items really did a lot for boosting my americaness meter it really gets topped out by the fact that last night I was sitting at a Liberian bar listening to We are the World (god I hate that fucking song) and watching WWE wrestling. As an important note WWE wrestling isn’t even dudes wrestling anymore it’s just large chested woman in skimpy outfits rubbing their titties and ass all over each other, which I thought we already had we just called it a strip club? But all the same here is toast to WWE for taking the degradation of woman to the national level! I mean nobody wants to watch sweaty dudes in underwear grope all up ons each other, but woman, well yes please and thank you! I gotta say that the woman thing was not my favorite part, because it was not the most American part, my favorite part came in the form of the audience. Aw let me tell you it was so refreshing to see 300 pound fatties (sometimes I wish I could use their big tummies for a bed, I bet it more comfortable than a water bed, but way more smelly) eating junk food watching mind numbingly stupid “sports.” I am guessing that WWE tickets are not cheap either so god bless them for spending their welfare checks to get front row for this high class form of entertainment rather than providing for the children’s education. Ew I just realized I bought nacho flavored slim jim, god its fucking gross, but I will keep eating based on principle and pretend to enjoy it. God I am drenched to the point of dripping in american goodness! U! S! A! This will probs be my last for 2010 so enjoy the last few days of the year! And we will talk again in 2011.

Scotch and Cookie!!!

Merry Christmas you fuckbags!!! For christmas this year I got myself a wicked sweet sunburn on the beaches of Robertsport. Turns out that fucking equatorial sun is hot mother fucker, which loves burning the shit outta my white white skin. Robersport is where a couple volunteers are stationed, it also happens to be the most wonderully beautiful beach I have ever seen in my life. Picture Gigantic white foam waves crashing against the jet black rocks that are jutting out of the golden sands, not to mention it is utterly devoid of all humanoid life. Anywho I cruised down there with a friend of mine who is in Liberia visiting her mother and father, though I am still counting her as MY first, and likely only, visitor to Liberia. Yay! Anyhwo yesterday was an entirely lovely day, which now brings us to today. Christmas Eve as I sit here sipping my Jack and coffee staring at the wonderfully blue Atlantic ocean I find myself wondering what my family is doing this day, than I remember o fuck me it’s like 5 in the morning there so they are probably sleeping unless they started some new tradition where they get up at 5 in the morning and do some sort of traditionally new tradition thing, which I find unlikely, so I am gonna assume they are sleeping. Though they better respect the greatest Christmas tradition ever, Scotch and cookies mother fuckers! For those of you who don’t know, which is most of you, scotch and cookie consists of taking a bite of Christmas sugar cookie, but wait! Don’t chew, first take a shot of Walker and then proceed to hold that in your mouth and chew the cookie, than swallow that awful concoction! The one who can do it the most times without vomiting wins! Or loses depending on how you look at it. Now that’s Christmas! Anywho this will be the first Christmas I do not spend with my four older brothers. I am finding this harder than I thought it would be, so I am doing the only logical thing: drinking. Which brings me to one important side note: I did an ultra sound this week (I am still sicko) anywho in the ultra sound the one titties on my silk sheets thing I found out (a saying I commonly use for awesome, because having silk sheets is awesome but having titties on those silk sheets is double awesome, everyone knows this) anywho during the ultra sound the doctor commented on what a perfect liver I have! Haha! My liver is alpha and the omega of livers, that mother fucker is titanium plated and filled with kick assery! 10 years of drinking (don’t do the simple math it will only disturb you, but then again I am from Kansas so it shouldn’t shock you) and that liver is still looking handsome and debonair (just like the man whose body it is housed in). Anywho I just wanted to point out how badass my liver is! Boom bitches! Back the point, if I even had one? I looked forward to christmas time every year not for the senseless gift giving (though that fucking rules) but for me coming from a big and spread out family Christmas always represented that time of year for a day or two when my entire family was together. As a baby brother this is fucking amazing as I greatly love and respect each one of my older brothers and parents not to mention no one quite gets the sarcastic ass hole Stolz sarcasm like my brothers and parents. But alas, here I sit in Africa, at Christmas time. I gotta say it is entirely weird to experience this time of year in another country. There are none of the usual American signs its Christmas, those signs of course being people racking up credit card debt like there aint no tomorrow, the repetitive and nauseating repeat of the same old shit ass Christmas music that has been redone into a fucking oblivion (sadly I kinda miss this), the lights and constant saying of Merry Christmas, and finally the cold weather. In this country my indications come in the form of dudes walking around on the streets with plastic Christmas trees on their heads trying to sell them, horrible battery powered Christmas items playing creepy renditions of Christmas carols that serve more to make me like I am in a horror movie about to be chased by a limping, angry never knew I had half brother out for blood. And the final indication people saying where is my Christmas, which is the nice way of saying hey white man give me some fucking money you rich prick! To be honest I have replaced the Dean Martin and Willy Nelson carols usually playing in my house with the great artist Prince’s Pussy Control and ODB Hey Dirtay, now those really put me in the Christmas spirit! Anywho I gotta get back to cooking grandmas stew for the wonderfully sweet person taking me in this Christmas time and laying by the Oceanside pool. I hope this christmas finds you warm (not in the sense that I am, actually I am fucking hot) and surrounded by the people you love! Merry Christmas bitches!

Drink lottsa wish-kay.

Poop…
Goodness all over graciousness fucking face mother fuckers. My apologies for not writing in weeks, if you had stock in the word fuck you woulda seen an epic Wall Street-esque plunge in your investment without my blog. Don’t worry we will sure as mother fucking shit fix that fucking fuck up in you fucks fucking lives. Fuck. Anwyays where to begin with all the fake and real news flashes that have been flooding in my office (bathroom). Well I suppose we can start with right now, the present moment, because it is fresh on my mind, soon to be fresh on the fucking toilet bowl. I have been In the Rove (great fucking city) for a minute or two now trying to get whats wrong with me figured out. Guesses have been wide, they have been varied, and they have been getting more accurate. If only Blues Clues had a fucking medical degree we coulda had my problems solved in a 30 minute television block and still had time to watch salt and pepper dance on the table. Anywho my totes rad PCMO (peace corps medical officer) has been working his balls off to figure out what is wrong with me. I mean I didn’t really give him a lot to go off of, I feel like shit, like all the time, that’s my symptoms. Anywho after much detective investigative work we found out that I am quite literally full of shit. Sorry, this blog, its kinda gross, uncalled for, most people would not talk about these things, but good for me and bad for you I am not most fuck faces. Anwyho for whatever reason my colon and my shit have formed a relationship and they have decided they don’t wanna part ways. What a bunch of shitheads. So we have been spending some time on making them part ways, now even I have some scantly clad morals that I more often than not keep in the back of my closet right night next to the tight leopard skin pants. But occasionally, just occasionally I bust them out, this is one of those times. I will spare you most of the talk of what the past week has been like, lets suffice it to say unpleasant. My most recent task has been hounding down some salty salt water and Milk of Mag. Sweet Christ take it from a kid who aint pooping, those things make you poop. A lot. So that’s where we are at right now. I will keep you posted. The only other thing I will mention is this: pooping in cups, its not fun, its gross. The follow up to pooping in a cup, moving the poop from cup to test tube vial is even less fun especially when the tool you are using to scoop said poop is not adequately sized. Such was my case. One thing that this experience did teach me is that I am definitely one of those people who shit mother fucking stinks. So if you ever hear anyone say that that fuckhead Tj walks about like his shit don’t stank up the joint, you can say “untrue fucker that fuckhead Tj is more aware than most people of how horrible his fucking turds smell.” I would also like to point out for those of you still reading that I have been calling the shit poop. Haha. Anways I will get off the subject here because I think that’s enough and also I gotta poop!
Other news, good news comes in threes, or is that bad news, I don’t know, but I am gonna give you three things of good news, first in highlight form, than in more depth analysis. 1. I hung out on an empty, beautiful beach. 2. I had KFC-esque chicken. 3. I found Harry Potter 7, The Deathly Hallows pt. 1 for sale on the street. 4. I gotta shit again.
Ok so that was 4 and one them good news to me but gross news to you, the reason it got mentioned is because it was true. Deal with it. Anways back to 1. We had Peace Corps meeting at Tinkers beach a little outside of Monrovia. It was lovely, it was relaxing, it was full of meetings. Anyway the beaches in this lovely little country are amazing, simply amazing. Though I don’t really have any right to judge beaches I am a mountain kid, and god do I miss those snow covered rocks. I am having straight crack head withdrawals over snowboarding right now. But I must say there was a moment in time sitting under a palm tree, digging my little pink toesies into the course tan sand, breathing in the salty ocean air, watching the sun close down another Liberian day where I had to seriously sit and think about whether it was real or not. It seemed as though I was in one of those high school movies about a calfiornia school. You know the ones that are always too good to be true and more likely than not have Freddie Prince Jr in it. Whatever happened to that guy?
2. Monroe chicken mother fuckers. It is fast food chicken here in Liberia, and it is delicious. For reals and seriously it is just like KFC except better and in Monrovia. The first bite of it I took I jazzed my pants and found the meaning to life. The meaning of life is to eat crispity crunchity chicken. O my god, I gotta shit again. Sorry, but its true. And if I gotta do it you should know about it. Anways the chicken is the dankity.
3. People sell these ripped DVD’s on the streets here, I have bought such instant classics as The Expendables, Predators, and now I have added HP 7. Boo ya! Ka sha! That’s really all I have to say about that.
Well before I go sit and wait 20 minutes to download the new Conor Oberst “Coyote Song” for the 30th time in my life I will leave you with this life altering question. IF a man (or a woman, I am not a misogynist and you can have it what other way you like) came up to you and said if you do not speak/write/sign language for a year you will turn into a bear. What would you do? I mean you wouldn’t turn into some kind of little shitty bear (koala, black bear, panda bear) no you would turn into either the most vicious bear in the world (Polar Bear) or the most badass salmon eating thing on the fucking planet (Grizzly bear). Anways if I stop talking and writing and all that we all know what happened, and you can come see me in Alaska.
Also one last thought, I felt kinda bad about this blog, you know what with all the swearing and judgments I passed, but then Wikileaks released how our diplomats talk about shit. Now instead of feeling bad about my language I think I will just put it on my resume and go talk to the state department. Fuckya.

Alas! Alas! Alas! It has happened. My streak is over. I have sharted in my pants. Poopy water all over the fucking draws. Shit. Quite literally shit. To be fair I feel pretty good about the length of time I made it without shitting myself in Africa. Much better than I can say for some of my counterparts, and mine was a relatively “small” incident, contained only to my under draws as opposed to running down my leg is oozing embarrassment. Ew sorry that was gross. No I am not mad about the pants shitting, I mean these things they happen, I am mad at how it happened. I was sitting here, jamming some tunes and reading “A Fraction of the Whole” (great book) and I realized I needed to pass gas, or in crude terms I had to make farties, or toot. In my mind I started going through a debate that went something like this…ah man, I gotta fart, but this book is really good and I am at a critical point and I really don’t wanna get up right now.- Yea but the bathroom is like 10 feet away and you are on a lot of laxatives, lets not risk it. –fuck it I will just do it with a certain amount of caution, how can this go bad…AH FUCK! The ah fuck is where I made dookie in my pants. The moral of the story, or the lesson to be gleaned here is NEVER risk it when a on a shit ton of laxatives and the bathroom is 10 feet away. You can always resume reading a book, you can never unpoop your pants. I want that put on my gravestone when I die. Actually I want it to read “here lies Tj fucking Stolz the fucker who partied with polar bears.” Followed by that piece of advice. Also I want it to be diamond encrusted. Also while we are on the morbid subject of my death I want to give my own eulogy. Instead of giving my money to my family or some charity bullshit I am gonna spend it all on hiring the best puppeteer money can buy. Then I will have him string my dead corpse up and right in the middle of my funeral I will pop up outta my casket walk up, mime to my pre-recorded eulogy about what a great man I was and how I fought hordes of evil troglodytes and saved millions of children and damsels in distress and single handedly stopped the world financial crisis than walk back to the casket, light it on fire and close the lid. Now that’s a fucking a funeral!
Yes, to answer the question you are all asking yourself after reading that last paragraph I do realize how fucking weird my mind is. What to do?

Teddy Roosevelt is the mother fucking shit.

Seriously TR is the off da hook. Mother fucker gave us national parks! Thats really all I need to say about him, o and he loved killing shit and drinking PBR.

“Ah hell, ‘nother night wasted and gone.” These are the words I mutter to myself each morning as I lay in bed and watch as the dark lonely hours of night switch out with the pale gray sunlight of the morning hours. Right now it is about 5 or 6 in the morning give or take. Right now in Denver it is 10 or 11 at night, give or take. This means that all my friends are stabbing holes in the side of a PBR can while standing in a bathtub getting ready for the night. As my friends are getting ready to hit up all my old haunts I am sitting here listening to babies wail, dogs yelp and motorbikes run by. While they are looking around at 50 familiar faces ready to party I am looking out my window at some woman carrying a 3 gallon of bucket of water on her head. I am by no means complaining about my positon in life. I love it here; I am merely making a comparison. Life: Its fucking weird. I am also thinking about my good friend J-Bone Landolfe doing the same thing as me in a different country for a different organization. I am dreaming of the day when him and I finish service and meet up in Moab for two year victory beers and days of climbing the red rock. God I fucking miss climbing. In other news the last couple days have brought a few more victories and a few more losses to the soles of my feet. I will relay them to you in a compliment sandwich. You know that thing that fucking stupid thing managers do where they tell you something good and then something shitty and then something good and you couldn’t give a fuck less about any three of them.
The first victory I had was the sorting out this Holland/Netherland, Danish/Dutch, where the fuck is Amsterdam business. I have spent the last week of my life contorting my mind into all sorts of painful positions trying to figure out where the fuck the Dutch are from, and what the hell the god damned difference between them and the Danes are. This all started because I made the acquaintance of some Dutch people, they are lovely people, and it shamed me good that I didn’t know if they were from Denmark or the Nederland’s. I felt as uneducated as a god damned race horse on Mars. Anywho in America I woulda just had one of my friend with an iPhone look that shit up for me, but that’s not so much the case here. So while I was drinking my Heineken, a Dutch beer, I checked to see what the address was, it was Amsterdam, Holland. Now this really through the proverbially wrench in my proverbially gears and I moved my level of uneducation up from race horse on Mars to billy goat trying to drive cars on Neptune, which is dumb and nonsensical to say the least. I was confused by all this Holland business. Anywho I could not fucking take it anymore, I took action, action that should have been taken long ago. I posted on my Fbook my question. Well it came back with two answers Holland, and the Nederland. Now this really threw me for the final god damned loop. What the fuck is the difference between Holland and Nederland. Finally I just called my friend and made him look it up for me (thanks Luke, I heart you). Here are all the answers I was dying to have and I am sure you are dying to know. Holland and Nederland, they are one in the same, Holland is a part of Nederland. First question solved. Difference between Dutch and Dane, Dutch are from Nederland, Danes are from Denmark. Boom! And finally Amersterdam is in Nederland, it’s the fucking capital of Nederland, I cant believe I did not know that. I am a fucking moron. But alas my mystery is solved, which I wish could say led to peaceful nights of sleep, but it didn’t, which is where my loss comes into play. If I have any Dutch or Danish readers, which I doubt I do, but if I do, I am sorry that I am an idiot, please accept my whole hearted apology.
These fucking rats. Rats I say, I would not mind so much if they were tiny cute little mice, but they are fucking huge hideous rats! There is no current existing swear word that I could use that would explain my hatred for these fucking fury murine creatures, god damned them! I decided to make one up so I now swear at them using the new and awful swear word spadarkank (pronounced spa-dar-kank). These fucking spadarkaking rats are to spadarkaking smart. We have tried every god damned thing in the book of war on rats. Sticky glue, which turned out to kick my ass even more than the rats did and left my fingers sticky for days. Rat traps: they won’t go near them, or when they do they use their super ninja skills to remove the peanut butter without getting caught, and finally chasing them around with a boot on my shoe. They are fast and can slip through tiny holes in the floor and ceiling, plus I don’t know what I would do if I caught one, I would actually probably just run away. They have spent hours digging a tunnel system through our house that would have put the North Vietnamese to shame, which why they are always capable of slipping away! Not only are we dealing with the worlds smartest rats, they must have a great rat school here, we are also dealing with super athletic ninja rats. Spadarkank! Anywho we are reaching desperate measures, I have agreed to get a cat. Its not that I don’t like cats, I am actually quite partial to them, it’s that they make my eyes itch like the crotch of a hooker. But I will take itchy hooker crotch eyes if it means that I don’t have to hear those little fucks trolling about my area at night. I’ll keep you posted.
Finally the other victory. It came from a day at school. Generally at school, I teach the first two and the last two classes of the day. Well by the time I got to my last class of the day most of the students and staff had decided it was Friday and nobody should go to a full day of class on such a special occasion as Friday. I went into my last class I found about 1/3 of my normal student population, this was fantastic for me! Not only were they just my good student left, but the school was empty outside the classroom so I didn’t have to yell to talk to them! I taught them a bomb lesson on the states of matter. Got that point across by making them act like particles in a solid, liquid, or gas, it was good. I felt like an accomplished teacher for once. Then I just hung out for a while and bullshitted with them. When I do this it always ends up with questions about America. People are always shocked to find out I am 23, the average age I get is 35. Age makes no sense here, I always think Liberians who are 43 are 23 and they always think Americans who are 23 are 43. Then of course I said that I was swingin single, which prompted a few marriage proposals from my female students, I graciously declined. Finally we just started talking about life in ‘merica. My favorite question I got all day was “why are there blue, red, and yellow lights everywhere in America?” They meant green, yellow, and red: a traffic light. This just makes me laugh because it something I take for granted. I mean a fucking traffic light is a traffic light, and the bane of many Americans existence, especially those of who like to go work as late as possible and the 30 seconds lost at a traffic light can make the difference between on time and late. Anwyays the most common place things to a person can be the craziest concept to someone else. I spent a 5 minute diatribe on traffic lights and there purpose in life, which amazed my students and made me laugh. Ah earth one planet, with billions of different lives all kickin it at the same time. All human life is so alike, in fact speaking genetically 99% alike and yet that little 1% and location make such a crazy difference between the types of people we are. Well I say Jehovah rain your blessing down on that 1% because it’s what keeps life worth living.
Welp-skis the sun is all the way up now. What the fucking fuck am I gonna do today? Well I guess I will start by placing bets on the two rats having a fight on my floor right now. Who am I gonna bet with? O the rat sitting on my fucking bed right next to my left foot. He’s giving me great odds. God damn it that’s the second time this week they have broken the sanctuary of my bed! These heathens have no respect! Damn them! Damn them all to rat hell! After the rat fight I will probably watch it rain, because its still doing that. Great dry season!

A few other important notes I should make before posting this blog. I have both good news and bad news again, but even the bad news is good news! First the good good news, seeing as the bad news isn’t really bad news it can wait till second. So the good news, I was treated to Cannonball Run 1 but the good news does not stop there it goes on to include I marathoned through CBR 1 and 2! Now this is a treat beyond on words of description. The important thing to note is that B-Reynolds is just as sexy in Africa, and as for his mustache well it might be more glorious in Africa. It was hard to cover up the raging hard on that mustaches power exerts on people. I don’t care if you are a woman, you will get a raging hard on from that stache. Besides the raging hard on my chest exploded in copious amounts of chest hair, I still cant see my nipples due to all the fucking hair. Basically CBR 1 and 2 are the same thing as Smoky and the Bandit 1, 2, and 3 except Burt does not wear a rocking hat, and CBR has Deano and Sammy Davis Jr (only has one eye). But they have all the good parts in common, Burt is still great friends with the truckers, the music still kicks 70’s ass, the staches are still glorious and every woman in the movie is dumb as rocks and has big boobs. And you better believe Deano is always hammered, that dude must have been gifted with at least 12 livers.
Anyways on to the other good news I spent all yesterday vomittig and shitting my brains out, which was accompanied by farts/burps of sulfer! And I still feel like ass! Turns out I gots me some Giardia! My first parasite! Now you are asking yourself why and how is that good news? Well I made it my goal in life to get the 5 sailor illnesses of old. Giardia, dysentery, scurvy, cholera, and malaria. Now there is a list I can gladly put on my resume for any job. I mean my new boss would just glance down, see that I had ALL 5 sailor illnesses, and will stop reading right there, fuck past jobs and experience all they need to see is that list. Anywho I am well on my way with the strong beginning of catching all 5 (just like Pokemon!). The giardia came at a perfect time because my sister-in-law (Jen) is pregnant, so now we both have something growing inside of us! The only difference is my little guy(s) is probably way cuter. O and I am assuming that the whole pregnant thing is not a secret anymore, cause if it was, well it’s not anymore. So congrats from me and everyone who just found out by reading my blog! Anywho I am really sad I could not get the G-train in grade school because I woulda been the most popular kid in school. Fuck buying stink bombs I can make them in my ass (actually lower intestines would be a more accurate area of metabolic manufacturing)! I woulda crop dusted the shit out of so many shopping mall escalators. Maybe it is good I did not have it in grade school though because the other possible outcome of being super stinky is being the super stinky kid that no one wants to sit with at lunch. Anywho as much as I would love to keep writing I don’t feel very good, and I gotta start making plans for getting scurvy or cholera, whichever one is Vitamin C deficiency.

Two blogs in one week. Sha-bam!

The Liberian food pyramid.
I was chatting with one of my brothers last night via the cellular telephone (so fucking crazy that I can talk to someone across an ocean as if I were sitting right next to them, Well as long as when you sit with people you can only here every other word and you have to keep calling them back) and I was telling him about the Liberian food pyramid I had devised in my head. I cant say that it is the food pyramid for all Liberians, I can just say it is for the white man in Kanwekan. It is somewhat like the American food pyramid we are all used to seeing in school except way less complicated; there is only three sections. The bottom part is all just carbs: bread, rice, and noodles. Heavy on the rice. The middle part is just an egg and cookies, I know those two don’t got together in the Health Association one, but fuck that this is my fucking food pyramid so I can put what I want together how I want. If you don’t like it build your own damned pyramid. Anywho the capstone to it would be mayonnaise because you put that shit on everything. Than in a magic force field around the whole pyramid is pepper (yea I know that’s 4 parts but the force field does not count). You live, breath, sweat, and pee pepper here. Seriously I spend a good 20 minutes of everyday laying on the floor in my dirty ass house sweating up buckets of saline solution and tearing up in pain because my mouth is on fire. Sadly in about 72 hours I will find myself in the same situation, but this time it’s not my mouth that burns and I am in the business office. I eat so much pepper that I don’t know if I will ever be able to taste anything other than flaming hot spicy again in my life. But the Liberians tells me it makes me strong, but then again the Liberians also say that eating something rotten makes you strong, so I don’t know if they trust their sense of what makes you strong. Also they have two different definitions of the word strong and I can never tell which one they really mean. One is that it makes you like physically and mentally strong, and the other is that it gives you a raging boner. Maybe they always mean both? O here is some advice to middle aged gentleman if you cant pop the tent don’t throw your money away on Viagra, instead just take a shot of Walker Red Label, one raw egg, and of course a little pepper. I have it on good authority this will make you strong all night long. Just donate all the money you save on penis pills to children in Africa and we will consider it even.
Yesterday whilst sitting in a tiny little shack in the jungle hammering down some cane juice, it also makes you strong, I was having a chat with a man about the importance of traveling. You must always be moving we said, it is terrible to say in place. Then he said something that I really loved The world is always moving, it is rotating, so to be alive on earth is to be moving, you cant fight that. Maybe all the people trying to stay in one place are always sad because they know they cannot stay in one place. Its no good to stay static the very nature of being alive on the globe entails a lot of movement whether you want it to or not. You are spinning hundreds of thousands of miles everyday and traveling millions of miles every year because we are all on Spaceship Earth. (Credit Wet Hot American Summer for Spaceship Earth)
So last night I was chillin in bed laying around, sweating after just having eaten my pepper soup. As I was laying here, not harming a soul, my left thigh started burning. I realized I made the fools fatal mistake of touching pepper than scratching my thigh. Sometimes I am so fucking daft I don’t know how I stay alive. I went out into the rain and washed my thigh off, but of course that doesn’t really work. So I went back to laying down with a small inferno burning away. After a few short minutes of having napalm burning a whole into my upper leg my eye stared scratching. Instead of thinking like a smart logical person and remember I had pepper on my hands and that’s why leg is on fire. Yea that smart people logic can go fuck itself, I opted for the fuck tards option and scratched my eye. HOLY FUCKING SHIT! I forgot all about my stupid fucking leg burning and started shouting o fuck me I am gonna go mother fucking blind I tell ya! I was pouring buckets of water into my eye to get the pain to stop. Sweet lord that was a pain the likes you cannot begin to understand unless you are an idiot and put pepper in your eye. Anywho I went back outside in the rain and just looked up trying to get fire juice outta my eyes and while out there it occurred to me that I had not showered in 5 days, not that there is anything wrong with that, it merely occurred to me. So whilst the sky was acting like a shower pouring down water on the clogged drain of the ground I decided hey, as long as nature is willing to give me a free shower I might as well take it. So in the cover of the wonderfully dark African night I strolled out back in nothing but what the creator done gave me. At first I wanted to do it out front where the roof makes the water pour off in big streams at the corners of our house, but then the Nigerians started running there generator. Its not that I had a problem with them watching me, it’s that they wouldn’t pay the $2 cover charge for the show, and unlike nature I don’t give out things for free. I gotta say standing out in the backyard in Africa in the flesh showering under the nice rain is a highly pleasant experience, you should try it. Just tell your neighbors your doctor said it would be good for your heart. Though you might wanna wait till spring, I don’t think snow would make a great shower substance.
While in the shower it finally occurred to me what I wanted to be when I grow up, and it’s a sandwich shop owner. Mostly I just want to open a sandwich shop because work for the first 6 months of sandwich shop owning = lots of sandwich eating. I mean you have to make up new sandwiches and test the product. Really I don’t want to own the shop though, because that means I would have do taxes and shit on the sandwich shop and that sounds hard. Basically I just want some to pay me to eat sandwiches. I could be a sensual sandwich eater. There has got to be a market for that somewhere. The other problem is right now in Liberia all I have to experiment with is boiled egg, mayonnaise, and spicy mustard. Somehow I don’t think sandwiches centered on previously mentioned ingredients can compete with the Green Turkey from Yellow Sub. Damns that shits sounds good.
The other thing I have decided next summer when I take vacation I will decide where I am going based on where the Dead Weathers or the Mystic Valley band, or Radiohead, are playing cause I really want to see them. Someone should inform that they need to be playing shows next summer. I am missing live music like crazy. Concerts are the sweetest fucking things in the world. They combine the three d’s I love most dancing, drinking, duol cisum. There is just something about being smashed up in a group of beautiful people all tranced by the same dance blaring at you from the nearest 6 foot high speaker. I cant really explain it, but you know it rules.
I also just realized what I will do make money for sandwich shop. I mean to start this I am gonna need some capital, and when I am running it I am gonna need a secondary job to pay the bills on my investment. I need something easy, something that would not take much time but still will pay well, therefore I am left with one option: weatherman. Namely a weatherman for Liberia, I mean they don’t have any yet and really all you have to do to predict there weather is flip a quarter. Heads is really fucking hot, tails is a monsoon. It is so gad damned hot today I am getting sunburned laying in doors. I am just lying on my foam mat pouring sweat down my body. For entertainment I have been making bets on which drop of sweat is gonna get to the bottom of my stomach first. I think this might be the next big sport to watch in America we could call it, well I don’t know yet I am open to suggestions. My only stipulation is that it must have to word ultimate or X-treme in it, preferably both, because that seems to what Americans are into these days. Man last night was a night of decisions.
And yea I know there is no logical thought pattern to how a write this blog, but my mind moves a thousand miles a minute and I like keeping up with it. Helps me stay in shape, so wherever it goes there I must follow, that’s why you get nonsensical paragraphs talking about how hot is, to STD cards, to falling into a fire pit fighting a bear that just terrorized an orphanage. In case I have not explained the bear, that’s how I am going to die. An old gypsy woman told me, and old gypsy woman are the authority on this kind of thing so I am told.
Well I gotta stop writing here, there are two beads of sweat forming on my chest and it looks like they are real competitors, my money is on the Lucky Leftie.

Good luck making sense of this jumble fuck of thoughts.

Well my iPod met a drink last night, and after some initial talks they decided they hated each other. My iPod is pissed that I made it meet that drink so now my iPod is refusing to work. It blows. I had a rough day of sittin around drinking palm wine and all I wanted to do was come home and relax from my incredibly rough day. But when I tried to pop in some Mystic Valley Band my iPod would not turn on thus I am now sitting here in my evening hangover listening to a baby cry and cry and cry and cry. Catching the back up drum beats for the baby is the church next door. But I am not worried they only usually play there drums super loud till about midnight, so at least I will get a restful nights sleep…Holy shit that kid is in to crying, African has made me officially decide I never want kids, instead I prefer to treat kids the same way I treat dogs. Play with other peoples, that way I get them while they are fun, but when I am done with them or they shit on the floor I don’t have to rub there nose it and spank them. This kid is really just crying up a damn storm over here, he has a great beat going, and keeps changing up the scream he makes, it keeps me wondering what coming next. Lets see what else is new o we bought another chicken. This one kept escaping though. It had it legs tied up and yet it was still jumping out windows and making breaks for it. I think he had probably watched Fox’s hit tv show Prison Break and got a few pointers. Anywho after walking home 2 kilometers from school being drenched in sweat and have a neck so burned I coulda fried an egg on it all I wanted to do was kill Henry and get my grub on. But lo and behold that ol con artist was gone again. Matt and I narrowed it down to two possibilities either he had jumped out the window again or Mr. Squeakers decided he wanted an afternoon snack. I was fairly confident the latter was the case because a week ago that fucking rat stole a pack of Mefloquin so it seemed only right that the now malaria resistant rat would take another thing I fucking needed. That rat is such an ass hole. Anyways thankfully we found the frisky chicken, frisky is the word they use here for bad or disobedient, but it always just makes think horny so it give s me a good giggle every time someone uses it. Yes I am well aware of the fact that I have the mind of 12 year. Anywho I beheaded another chicken boiled more water, peppers, and salt and ate him over rice. That’s life baby. At least for me, I suppose you probably buy a frozen chicken from Wal-Mart and throw it in some kind of food that isn’t based on rice, peppers, and salt. Lame.

Woof, rough morning this morning. Woke up to my principle calling at about 10 in the morning. Grabbed the phone and gave a hello in a voice sounded like it had been up late last night with people and a bottle of vodka. Anywho he told me he needed to talk to me on the road to which I said roger dodger, but he didn’t understand that so I just I would see him soon. Put my Ghana soccer jersey on and cruised on down to the road to what I think is some kind of actual meeting. Boy was I wrong. I get there and him and about 6 other dudes are just dranking palm wine from a bucket, turns out it was Liberian Thanksgiving! Dude Liberians also love it when they see a white man drinking palm wine, its how I integrate. Seeing as they don’t have a useless bird that makes you sleepy they replace it with a delicious beverage that makes you sleepy! This community celebrates holidays down right perfectly. Anywho after that I made it back home to bed to catch some much needed shut eye. Than I woke up and spent the rest of my day having water fights with the kids. And when I say water fight I mean I chase them around with a bucket of water.
O the ups and downs of Peace Corps service are fun. One day you are sure that there is nothing else you would want to be doing with your life, and the next day you are ready to swim across the ocean just to get back to the United States. I believe there is a quote somewhere about how a soldiers life is filled with long periods of boredom with brief intervals of intense terrors. I believe if someone were to make that about PCV it would go something like a Peace Corps Volunteers life is filled with long periods of boredom with brief intervals of intense naps. You have a lot of time on your hands, even if you work hard, you still have a lot of time on yours hands with not a lot of ways to spend it. I think this is a large part of the emotional rollercoaster that Peace Corps is, you just have to much time to think about it, especially when you don’t sleep. You have a lot of time to realize where you are failing and also I a lot time to realize the important things you are doing. That compressed with all the pressure of leaving everything you know and love, and trying to fit into an entire new culture can really throws one’s mind for a loop. I remember the months leading up to leaving I was crazy stressed out, it’s a truly terrifying thing when it comes down to it. Within a week I had told everyone I love goodbye and flew half way across the world with a group of total stranger to a completely new culture. Than the first few months here were intense, I think that now after being here for 4 months I am really finally starting to get the feel for everything and am settling in. But like I said there are days when I think I don’t ever want to leave Liberia, and there are days where I think I would rather be in America. Those people I flew over with have now become my Peace Corps family and the Liberian people are in general so nice and accepting that it has made my transplant much easier than I thought it was going to be. One of the hardest parts of Peace Corps is the month before you exit country. Trying to pack, get your financial life straight, say goodbye to everyone, and eat as many cheeseburgers as possible really takes a toll on you, but its all worth it. No doubt.

I always love those moments when you realize how absolutely tiny you are. It is absolutely freeing, gratifying and humbling all in one cement mixer of emotion. Africa is great for having these. Tonight I was sitting out on my back cement block, like I do, drinking my heinkens. To be a smidge more accurate I was wizard staffing. All my friends in Denver were, are having Wizard Staff right now. So while I cant be at the actual staff meeting I certainly can still make my own wizard staff, which I did. Anyways I was sitting on my back porch staring at the sky, staffing, and thinking just how absolutely tiny I am. I mean here we are same planet and all that jazz and I could yell as loud as I want and they would never know I did. Its just weird. Sorry I know that this is wacked out and ill explained, but I am certain that most people reading this have had this feeling, this feeling of tiny particleness. It really is a great feeling, you can be whatever you want to be and in the end it really doenst matter. You are just a tiny blip on the screen of existence on earth, let alone the entire damned universe. Anywho what I am trying to say is, well I don’t know, but that feeling is cool. We don’t have a lot of time people so grab onto life however you see fit and just ride and laugh, just ride and laugh. I guess what I am trying to say is life is fucking huge so all you can really do is just enjoy it while you can.
But on to more important things. Tonight I was chatting with Matt about our rat problem. We have one. That’s how our chat began. Anywho I was telling Matt that I didn’t really have a problem with it. The way I saw it was that as long as the rats didn’t trouble me I was not going to trouble them. That goes double true for Squeakers. Actually I am just scared of him, and he knows it. Today I saw him in the kitchen and he started scurrying up the wall to his getaway hole in my ceiling and right before he went in he just stopped and looked at me as if to say yea what the fuck are you gonna do. The answer of course is nothing because he is a disease carrying rat that I fear. Anyways just as I was saying I wouldn’t trouble them if they didn’t trouble me a little mouse ran across my toes, which caused two things to occur 1 me to have the reaction of a little girl and pull my feet off the ground and 2. To say well those fucks have accosted me, now its war. Now I have declared war on the rats before, obviously it did not go well otherwise there would not be a need for the second war. So tomorrow starts a new day and a new war with the rats, which is why I must get to sleep and by sleep I mean lay awake all night listening to the rats scurry about my room. I mean I don’t mind the scurrying its just they do it so loudly, I mean be a little fucking courteous and I probably wouldn’t be trying to kill you. Anywho I gotta get ready for war.

So sleeping didn’t really happen, I think the mice and General Ratton (Mr. Squeakers in military form) stepped up their plans of attack. I think they knew my strike was imminent, so they struck first. Last night as I was laying here in bed, half asleep, I was startled back to full on awake by a little mouse crawling on my gosh durned bed! These little fucks are getting brave to say the least. Anywho today, I am gonna do something to stop them, I am not sure what, seeing as they out smarted all my tricks (coke can rat traps, rat poison, and sticky pads). Apparently you have to get bony fish and cook its head for a bit than rub the scales on the poison and the rats just cant resist it. I might try that. Bony fish is exactly what it sounds like, really bony dried out, gross eyeballed fish. More bones than meat. Anywho that’s my new plan.
So last night whilst not sleeping I realized two things, not of particular importance, I just realized them. They were this. 1. You cant sit out under a clear Liberian night for more than 5 minutes without seeing at least 2 shooting stars. That’s totes rad. I mean it really blows my mind how many there are, I am worried that I am gonna get sick of them over the next two years, than I’ll be that guy who is not impressed by shooting stars, and that guys an asshole. 2. I really enjoy telling small lies to get a good laugh. They don’t really hurt anyone, but they make me laugh. For example when I worked at the zoo I used to drive a tour, and on this said tour I spouted off large amounts of facts about a wide variety of animal. Well, every once in awhile I would say the pelican can hold 10 gallons of water in its beak, rather than just three as it actually can. No one really knows, and it doenst really hurt anything, in fact I think it helps because they dig on nature way more when it’s crazy and maybe that might inspire them to help out a bit. Buts probably not. Anywho yesterday I was telling one of my Liberian friends that in America we call someone who travels a lot a yackadoo. Mostly just cause I like the word yackadoo and I saw a chance to get it into circulation. Another harmless little fib, but goodness it makes me laugh. I guess that means I am a terrible person, or something, but what can you do. Maybe its just means I am a fucking yackadoo.
Ah the weather of Liberia! Its fucking weird. Yesterday I was kickin it out on my front porch trying to catch a breeze, because I was sweating crazy balls in the house. So I was sitting there in shorts roasting in the hot sun, and about 10 feet away from my house it was raining crazy hard, hard enough that if I wanted to speak to someone I had to raise my voice. I mean it was raining the proverbially cats and mother fucking doggies. Of course eventually the wall of rain settled over our house for an hour or two. YEA DRY SEASON!
The other thing that is crazy banana brain outta this world tripadelic is that its fucking November and I am roasting like a super market rotisserie chicken. Yesterday matt was yelling at a kid “Bro why are you wearing a turtle neck its Nov…” Right there he realized that it is November, and generally speaking November is turtle neck time for those suckers who wear them. But here it is most defs not turtle neck time, its fuckin 90 degrees homie, like e’eryday. I think I am gonna build a pool here. Than get some tequila, sugar, lime and some sweet/sour mix and spend the rest of life here. It really just gets me that it is November 7 and I am gonna be out on my porch tonight drinkin beer in nothing but my shorts, and even them shorts are a maybe. I mean it should be like 30 and snowing. Welcome to always summer, I think that’s why they all look so young here. No stress, and always summer.
And final random thought for this post of jumbled thoughts. You know how there is that saying that Hallmark makes a card for everything, well that’s not true, yet. However, thanks to Max, and I it soon will be. You see there is a Hallmark card for almost every occasion that you need to tell someone sorry there life sucks, there are I am sorry I was an ass hole cards, sorry someone you loved died cards, and even sorry that you had a kid cards. I don’t care if the cards saying congratulation for the kid what it is really saying congrats your life is totally fucked over now! Anywho there is yet to be a Hallmark card for “Sorry I gave you herpes.” Insert any STD in for herpes and I’ll make a card for it. Imagine a hilarious little bear in a suit on the front holding a letter, than you would open the card and it would just be the bear saying “Sorry to be the ‘bear-er’ of bad news but you have Herpes. Get Tested!. Love (your name here).” No one likes awkward situation but everyone loves getting Hallmark cards! And fuck 1/3 people have them now so this shit is gonna be a booming business, and yes I am taking investors. Well its Sunday and my iPod is broked so its time to settle in for a long time of listening the church beat drums and party till all hours of the night. Enjoy your Sunday funday!

I ate my friend, he was scrumptious.

So a few days ago a chicken was brought to our house, and after some minimal negotiation the chicken was tied to a piece of wood in the hallway. We found ourselves the proud owners of one feathered foul. The deal upon buying Mr. Cluckers, as he was initially called in my mind, was that Matt would pay for it, if’n I ended the long and illustrious life of Mr. C., I agreed. So after we get it, I am in debate as to whether to name it or not, I knew that naming it would cause attachment, but not naming it deprived it of it dignity before death, so I of course named it. First we tried Chester, that didn’t stick, than there was Harrison, General McCluckther, and finally we settled on Gary. Gary I feel is a great name for a delicious chicken. Anywho Gary kicked it in our hallway tied to a piece of wood, and we became friends, until he crowed at 4 in the morning and than shit in my hallway. I tried to explain to Gary that being a good friend did not involve shitting in your friends house. Gary simply clucked back. All the same Gary kicked it in the house for three days. For his final meal I gave him cornflakes, I figure if his cousin endorses them he would like them, and some rice. After that Gary and I went outback to have a chat. Kids came. Gary’s last few moments I imagine went something like this: Damn those cornflakes were good, I sure wish I could get off this rope, o shit that blonde dude has a knife, o shit now some kids is holding my neck out while another one has my feet, this cant be goo…” At that this point I had sliced my way through Gary’s neck. The last thing Gary heard was me saying “well sorry Gary but friends don’t shit in friends hallways.” After we killed ol gary we put him in a pot of hot water, this makes feather plucking easier, and than proceeded to remove the noble Gary’s noble white feathers. Gary was a proud chicken. Than started the actual quatering of the chicken, and dude that is harder than it sounds. Gary clearly had his milk because his bones were strong as shit. Anywho we cut Gary open, the whole time I am doing this I was just thinking man, you used to be a vegetarian, and now look at you. I cut his crop open revealing his last meal, And watched the children fight over who got the feet. They went on to squabble over such delicious parts of the chicken as the skin, the organs, the head, and any other awful looking part of the chicken. God bless Liberia, they don’t waste a fucking thing here. When I said I wasn’t going to eat the neck this kid gave me the most mortified look I have ever seen but than was pleased as a man who just found out he shits gold when I told him he could HAVE the neck. I know, I know, my generosity really shocks me sometime. Anywho the parts of Gary I took up wound up in a delicious pot of pepper soup. Pepper soup is bomb, simply bomb.com.
I had the privilege of watching game 3 of the World Series. I don’t even really watch baseball in America, and I don’t necessarily believe its Americas pass time, I think that goes to NASCAR or perhaps WWF or whatever the fuck wrestling calls itself these days. Baseball is a pussy sport in comparison with those two, and America is not a pussy country so it shouldn’t have a pussy sport for its national pass time. Anywho on our way back in the taxi was moving like a crazed canary down the dirt path. Our driver seemed to think that hitting the bumps at 80 kmph as opposed to 20 kmph would work out better for the alignment of the car. I didn’t bitch we made Kanwekan in 3 hours, that’s literally 4 times faster than some of my other times. I love that I traveled about 70 miles in 3 hours and am super pumped about it. When I get back to America and get a whole car seat to myself in a car that doesn’t smell like roasted monkey flesh and can drive 70 mph without pissing blood, well I don’t know what I will do, probably a jig. Jigs are a gentleman’s way of showing excitement especially when they involve gin.
Other than that my life is pretty much unchanging at the moment. Not a lot happens here, at least not quickly. At time that is super rad, but when you need to get shit done it sucks. Well I am gonna watch people build this building, mixing cement by hand looks fucking hard. At least it is the dry season so it wont rain on those poor fellas, o wait its still fucking raining.
Ah man two fucking flies just landed on me. And that ‘fucking’ there is not just me randomly saying fucking as I love to do, those two flies were doing it on my leg. Ew.

Preachy, poopy, amardilloey.

I know I have said it once but I will say it again, because this is the kind of thing that people say over and over again, and if people don’t well than it is the kind of thing that I say over and over and you listen to. Waking up in Africa never loses its holy fucking shit this is awesome factor, it just doesn’t, I mean every time I wake up and walk out my back to door to do the kind of thing that people do when walking out there backdoor first thing in the morning, I always look at the golden morning sun shining down on the rolling vibrant green hills of rainforest shrouded in the mist that seemingly congregates there every night to have meeting about whatever large gatherings of mist meet about. The sun is trying to push the mist off the hills and the mist is holding on for dear life to its sweetheart hills, but eventually the sun will win out, the mist will move on and likely become clouds and the hills will sit there and wait for another night and another mist congregation. All this totaled and in much simple terms just means that the mist hanging over the hills in the morning is pretty rad to look at. After I do this I generally walk into to town and greet a whole shit ton of jolly people and buy everything I need for the day to eat and hang out for a little over $2 American. Yes, life here is pretty rockingly sweet. Throughout the day people will come by and hang out, some people I understand and we have good chats, some people we sit in utter and awkward silence before one of us decided that our utter and awkward requirements have been met for the day and tell the other person they have other business to attend to. Than I eat some food, and than I go to sleep. Did I mention that the whole time I am doing this there are birds, frogs, insects, monkeys, and I am quite certain a variety of other life forms providing a bitching sweet soundtrack to the day. I think this is a vague summation of why waking up and living in Africa never really loses its cool factor. I mean I gotta say walking and talking to nice people beats the hell out the walking around your average American street and having some ass hole tell you to fuck off, and while I am not 100% positive of this fact (some people are masochistic and might be into getting told to fuck off) I am certain that falling asleep to the sound of frogs and insects beats the hell out of falling asleep to police sirens (everyone loves a good sleep when they can get it, even masochist ass holes.)
I just finished grading, god do I hate grading. Especially when the kids do so bad, as they have done in this case. At this rate they will bankrupt me of red ink before Christmas time. I thought this was the future, where the fuck is my moustache having, bow tie wearing, paper grading robot named Steve?!?! What the hell kind of technological world do we live in that doesn’t have robots with mustaches? But mustachioed robots are beside the point, though a point that should not be forgotten, anyways grading is no fun, no matter if you have palm wine while you do it or not and I gotta say palm wine makes about every other thing in this world awesome, and that includes sitting in a tiny van reeking of vomit with 20 other people. If I ever met paper grading in a dark back alley I would kick it’s ass, actually no I wouldn’t, I don’t know how to fight, and am much more a lover than a fighter, but I would certainly have some very strong words for it and the way it conducts itself about.
Anways to make myself happy while paper grading I was thinking about how when I get back to America I am going to eat an entire platter of chic-fil-a nuggets. Seriously I am gonna knock back about 60 nuggets in one sitting, and then probably go puke vehemently for about 20 minutes, but I will be well practiced in the art of puking by that time. But as I was sitting there thinking about my nugget victory, I was also remembering that a flight from Monrovia to Hotlanta has opened. Than circuits started buzzing in my brain and all sorts of lights were flashing, and a hot fresh idea came to my head. I suddenly remembered that in the Hotlanta airport there is a Chic-fil-a. I could fly to Hotlanta, eat the nuggets, and be back on plane and in Monrovia all in a weekend! Sure it would be $2,604.60 nuggets, but I think anyone who hates Hitler will agree that these nuggets are worth that shit! So if you wanna see me in shorter than 2 years just meet me at the Hotlanta airport, we can do lunch and than get on with our respective lives.
In local weather news it fucking HOT AS SHIT HERE! I think this might be a little taste of this dry season I have been hearing so much about. So anyways this leads me to an important point, if you were really my friend you would send me an air conditioner, or at least some deodorant for the poor people around me. I am so mixed up in seasonal emotion right now I cant even explain it. Right now my body is telling me that I should be walking in cool breezy air, with leaves lazily dropping to ground, and dranking a bottle of whiskey to stay warm. But my mind and the sun scream, rather convincingly, its summer, its hot, you need to be sitting outside with one pearl snapped snapped, an icey cold PBR sittin in your right hand, and cigar in your left hand. Alas it is hot as shit so I will probably continue to enact my summer plan, but sub in palm wine for PBR, and a book for the cigar. But you better believe only one snap is getting snapped out there! Though I still miss fall in Denver something fierce, and I cant believe I am gonna have to miss an important upcoming Staff Meeting (party). Enjoy the fall friends!
Mornings, Weah, and Imodium. (10.19.10)
Another lovely morning in Africa, slowly my room has gone from pitch dark, to a faded royal blue and now finally the first rays of electric yellow sunlight are tumbling into my room like a five year old farm boy tumbing down a green pasture side. The sunlight strikes my white wall and illuminates some of the pictures I have hung out around my room. Mostly pictures of things and places that I love. These pictures that always make me happy, but they also serve to remind me of how much I miss everyone and all the places I haunted as a handsome youth growing up in America. Alas, they say the third and fourth months are the hardest for homesickness and it seems that yet again modern science is right, though I still think they are lying about things like global warming, and water being something we need to drink. Anywho I have found myself this month more time than any other, thinking about past times had. It really makes me sad and happy all at the same time, I am overjoyed that I met the people, but sad that I wont see them for 2 years and when I do see them, how much will have changed between us is a terrifying thought. But o well, we are all on to bigger and better things, and we had damn good times together when we had our days to have damn good times together. Thank god life changes, it should get rather dull if it didn’t.
Weah the welder has become one of my better friends here in Liberia. When I first met him he came slowly walking up to us, a stretched out grin that revealed his scattered teeth stained black with years of cigarette smoke. He introduced himself by saying that he has been friends with the Peace Corps since 1969, and went on to tell us the name of Peace Corps person he had befriended, James something or other, all Liberians seem to think that in America everyone knows everyone. That’s why I am friends with Akon and Jay-z. Weah has been a huge help to us acting as a procurer of many necessary items, and an incredibly nice man. One day while we were sitting in my small house we started chatting, and the subject of the war came up. Weah went on to say that he had spent most of the war with his family hiding in the jungle. Living in a few houses they built, and a small area for cooking. He went on to mention some of the horrible things that he saw the rebels, things of such horrid proportions it would a make an SS officer blush. This was his life for most of the 90’s, while I was in the middle of Kansas playing little league baseball, and sitting in air conditioning he was here in a jungle hiding for his life. Now here we are together, hanging out in my house. It is just odd how the world works that some live in such comfort with no fears, and others on this same exact planet, breathing the same fucking air wake up in the morning hoping just to eat and not get caught in the cross fire. It boggles my mind more that these 24 hours news networks might make a 2 minute mention of it, somewhere between there 1 hour long session on what celebrities just died, and than another hour long session espousing hate for the current president and claiming he is the antichrist incarnate. America *sigh*. God if we could just spend half the energy and money we exert on hating and killing each other, just took half of that and tried to build a better and peaceful world my mind swims at the possibilities. It just makes me laugh that Americans get pissed when they are stopped at a traffic light for too long and Liberians are totally in love with life as long as they have friends and families around. Anyways, back to Liberia, this story instilled me a tremendous amount of respect for Liberians, just five years ago they were in war that was unimaginably terrible and never talked about in America, and today they are the nicest people you could meet. It amazes me that they have that kind of mental strength. When I hear some of their stories all I can think in my mind is Jesus, I woulda have shit my pants 30 times over, and probably never smile again. And yet these people are working hard to rebuild a country that was stolen from them by greedy war lords, and I get to be a part of that. I get to help put in the first few bricks of a rebuilding nation, and I gotta say that is a pretty fucking amazing feeling.
In other more upbeat news. The restaurant has jollah rice tonight! Jollah rice is not only one of my favorite Liberian dishes but one of my favorite foods in general. As I have said before in posts, Liberians are nice people but terrible cooks (I thank goodness e’eryday that my much of my childhood was spent cooking with my grandma and thus I have some food sense), but I gotta say this Jollah rice is the mother fucking bees knees, the real grasshoppers ankle of food. It’s like spicy fried rice with bits of REAL cow meat in it. And thankfully my case of raging 3 day diarrhea has started to subside, thanks mostly to Imodium. I am pretty sure that Imodium works by putting tiny robots inside your body that than go to your lower end and build a huge damn right there on the spot. Yes, I am quite certain that is how it works, and has nothing at all to do with biochemistry and all that other mumbo jumbo that scientist claim they know. Anyways whatever it does it is really good at doing that, and therefore I like it. If I saw Imodium at a bar I would buy it a drink and thank it for all its hard work, than probably go on to drunkenly ramble about how it is the hard working pills like it that do that hard dirty jobs that keep America going, than I would probably ramble something about how Mike Row (dirty jobs) should be informed of Imodium and do an episode on it, then promptly there after I would pass out in the gutter and sleep peacefully till morning.
Later that night: O sweet lord why did I eat jollah rice when I was sick, I should known that oily spicy rice wouldn’t help with stomach problems! Curse this world! Looks like were going for 4 days straight tonight!

Fire pants are no fun for the person wearing them.

You’re carrying food in bucket on top your head?!?! One please! (10.15.10)
Yesterday on my early morning jaunt into town I passed a little girl with a bucket on her head selling things. The bucket on the noggin thing is the most common way of selling stuff here, I like to think of it as the African take on the lemondade stand, except Africans are not lazy fucks and will bring the product to you. Anywho this girl had something on her head that highly resembled the caramel empanada I was so fond of at Taco Bell. Before I knew what was happening I had reached into my pocket, grabbed a LD 5, and bought this little fried dough sandwich thing. I took the first bite, mmm crisp buttery (kinda, more like plastic-y margarineness), crunchy and all around quiet pleasant. Than I got to thinking, I doubt they have that T-Bell delicious cinnamon apple goop that I usually sear the roof of my mouth with, what could be filling this little fella, well only the next bite would show what was behind door #3 so another bite I took. To my utter shock, literally my utter shock I actually said What the fucking fuck mid chew, the middle was not sweet gooeyness at all, it was just a few floppy spaghetti noodles. This is similar to biting into a ding dong and instead of delightful cream filling it just liquid hot magma, except spagheck noodles don’t melt your mouth, so I guess they really only have the shock value in common. To be fair I would much rather have the noddles than the magma, so I guess I lucked out there. Somewhere in the deep recesses of mind I had let myself think maybe they mashed up some papaya or banana and put a bit of sugar on it and that’s the middle, but NOPE! It was just slimy spaghetti noodles. I mean seriously what the shit dude? How do you make a delightful crust of desserty goodness, and than in the middle put spageck noods that’s like building the atomic bombs shell and in the middle instead of putting the uranium you just put a bunch of party streamers, and while this would have been way more of a party for the Japanese I think most every would have the words what the fuck were those fucks thinking, were they hammered when they did this, or just really fucking stoned. Anyways I ate it and pretended it was a slimy caramel empanada, I mean at least it wasn’t monkey, so I consider it an improvement. But back to an important thought train, why are there not party bombs!?! Seriously this is how America can improve its look to world, what if instead of dropping actually killing mcdeath bombs, we just dropped party bombs. Instead of running in fear for cover, people would be running in jubilation for 30 racks of PBR and a knife to shotgun those little silver soldiers. I think I have just found the solution for world peace and it comes in the form of the party bomb. Its like a badass explosive piñata. Now to just sit back and wait for the Nobel prize to come to me…
In other news the dry season is here! That’s right no more mother fucking rain, just dry hot goodness for the next 6 months, at least that’s what Liberians say. Its about my favorite thing to ask, when the dry season starts, because they all insist it starts October 15. To which I always respond o so it starts around the 15th, and they insist back NO! it STARTS on the 15th, the rain just stops. To which I say alright and free my next question from my question stables, which of course is when does the dry season end which of course is a dumb question, it ends on April 15th. So I have decided if it does rain between now and April 15, I don’t give a fuck if it is April 14, I am gonna call all these Liberians a fucking liar and probably just move back to America, where I expect to be blatantly lied to all the time so I am just kind of ok with it.
My legs itch and so does my stomach, and there are little red bumps in all the places where I itch, if I was a doctor I would guess that these little red bumps are the source of my itchiness, and if I was a detective I would guess that these little red bumps are being caused by the vaunted bed bug, and if I was an itchy dude in Africa I would listen to the doctor and the detective and do the only logical thing and put my bed outside in the hot DRY season sun to burn these little fucks out of my foam pad so I can stop being itchy. And seeing as I am an itchy dude in Africa, a very itchy dude at that, I am gonna go throw my foam pad up on the roof, and solve all my problems. Its going to be an eventful day, I mean already this morning I solved the world peace problem and my bed bugs problem, I wonder what I will solve next, probably how much palm wine to drink.
Later that day: Well its fucking raining like a mother fucker outside, I mean seriously this is one of the hardest rains we have had in weeks. So I have decided that maybe the dry season takes a few days to reach-o the south east corner of Liberia, I mean the roads are bad. So maybe the dry season just got stuck somewhere on the roads and needs a good push to get outta the mud. I am sure it will be here in a few days, just like anything else that comes from Monrovia. However, all this rain really helps keep my new found hobby of throwing water on children going. So that’s good. I really spend about 2 hours a day chasing children around with a bucket of water, because Liberians HATE water and it is hilarious to douse them. Plus all the other kids love it when it is not them, so everybody wins! I have also started trying to read to the kids in the neighborhood, but I started a little over there head with Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, so we are gonna have to take it down a few notches on the complexity level, but I am sure we will get somewhere eventually, and that’s all that matters.
I was talking to Matt today about how much I did not miss bills. Its like being told you suck every morning, and one that dude just isn’t there, it a huge fucking weight lifted off your shoulders. Although the only difference is I wonder how that dude makes any money? Because the bills make their money by making me pay them. Anywho lets just say having to go draw your water and carry it back, or dealing with a shit fuck of a generator is way more stress free than having to worry about those little white sheets of paper every month. Or worse yet worrying that you aren’t going to be able to shower in the morning because your water might be turned off due to late payment. That sucked. But seriously I never have to worry about if I’ll be able to take a shower (pour water over my head) in the morning, I always can, its just whether I really want to or not.
The thing I am missing most about America this week is being able to make a conference call in an office, full of light and where things are not crawling all over my feet. That’ll be nice. If you don’t know what a conference call is, please reference early blogs.
Well because that shit fuck of a generator worked today, my computer has a charge and I am gonna be up all night as per usual, so I am gonna go watch some LOTR because I am not a super nerd.

Tj finally eats monkey.

(10.12.10)
Well it finally happened. I finally slipped up and ate a five fingered animal. No, it was not human, it was a monkey. And I gotta tell you monkey is not as bad as porcupine but it is not as good as poop. Here is how I was done under by the monkey meat. I was famished, I had been giving a test all day, catching cheaters is hungry-o work as they say, than I had some Peace Corps people out so I didn’t get lunch so finally when dinner rolls about, I am fucking starving. So I go to the cook shop (restaurant) and ask the jolly soft bodied (fat) woman what she had to eat tonight to which her response was “o nothing that could please you.” At this point a logical man would have surely said, ok well if you say so you probably are not lying, I should walk away. Thus far I have proven to be an idiot and not a logical man in my food choices, so I figured why give up on it now right when my luck could change. Anywho I ask her again and she says Pepper Soup and in my head two thoughts danced the dangerous ballet of winning over my decision making process. The logical side she said nothing to please you dude, ask her what the meat is. The idiot side: Dude you are fucking hungry and you sure as shit don’t wanna go back and burn the shit out of yourself trying to start the coal pot, and than wait another 30 minutues for the coal to be ready and than another 30 minutes to cook the food, don’t ask the meat JUST EAT! Well I got the meat and was eating a few bits of it while enjoying my soup over rice when matt came up to join me he asked what I was eating, to which I told him Pepe soup, than he asked the one god damn question I was trying not to think about until after I had eaten and the deed was done. I responded I don’t know, so matt looked left and noted the only meat that they had laying around was monkey, and that the shoulder blade in my soup looked an awful lot like a little persons. These are all things I had realized, but I was so damn hungry I was just trying to block out. Well after I knew I was eating monkey I figured why stop now, I mean I probably already got whatever parasite it’s gonna give me so I might as well eat my damn soup. So I did the only logical thing I finished like man, flipped the table over and shouted whose da bitch now monkey and walked home. I gotta say one thing I am entirely to excited about is to eat rice without rocks in it, I mean the thought of taking a huge bite of rice and not worrying about cracking the shit out of my tooth, is something I dream about, and the best news I got this rice guy in America. Dude takes out the rocks for free and sells it you, I think his name is Uncle Ben. That motherfucker has the bomb.com when it comes to rice.
Other exciting newz: When Peace Corps came to visit they also brought the long awaited and highly celebrated gas stove. Now I don’t know if this new fangled thing has hit American shores yet, seeing as America is a bit behind on technology when compared with Africa, but I gotta say I think this gas stove invention is something you are gonna wanna pick up. You don’t have to tear up plastic and get second degree burns trying to start it, and it get hot not in 30 minutes, nay not even in 20! But rather this little mother fucking thing is hot instantly! You can boil water in mere minutes I tell you! I know it sounds too good to be true, but I swear it is real, as real as the sun! Anways since this thing came along I have been eating oatmeal like a fiend, but to be honest I have been craving Cream of Wheat and I saw some in Zwedru, but didn’t buy it for some reason. This led me to make yet another fools choice, I was in my local Lebanese store and saw that he was selling some sort of barley cereal, again I leaped before I looked and bought this shit. When I got home it said it was a food for babies, to which my response was babies have great taste right, I mean anybody who shits there pants and makes someone else change it really has to know what is going on. So I started to boil some water (at light speed) and made some. After the hot water hit the barley shit, it turned an off purple. Here woulda been my first tell tale don’t eat it sign, but I pushed onwards because it was so full of nutrients, and I doubted it could be worse than monkey. So I took a bite, and for some odd reason it had the audacity to have the texture of baby food! Well all things considered it was not the worst thing I have ever eaten, so I ate a little more, but than I released it to be free in the world (threw it on the ground) and let some other thing benefit from this high in iron baby paste. I mean I think ants really need there iron,
Well that’s about all I got. I gotta get up early tomorrow and put a hard days palm wine drinking in. Life is so hard.

The saint with the job of writing down my sins aint ever gonna be outta work.

The battle with the mother fucking generator and other such stories. (10.6.10)

I fucking hate this mother fucking generator, I curse it and all its generator ancestors and generator children. There all a bunch of lazy fucking fucks. We bought a brand new generator a few weeks ago, a cause of great excitement amongst matt and I. Since buying this brand new hunk of shit I have taken it to the mechanic 3 times in 3 uses. I miss just plugging shit into a wall and watching it charge, or better yet going into the bathroom in the middle of the night and just flipping a switch. Although I gotta say in our bathroom you probably don’t want a large light on at night because you would have to see the 30 fucking mice, 12 roaches, 26 giant spiders, and one creepy dude named steve who sits in the corner. Anywho the gen is obviously back to working at least for now, but at the end of two years I am looking forward to going Office Space on the mother fucker and busting it the shit up in the middle of some field to some heavy ghetto ghangsta rap. Mostly cause I am so mother fucking hood.
On to more important business, last week I traveled in the capital city Mos Eisely (or Monrovia). Great times ensued upon reaching said city of scum and villainy, getting there was one fuck of a ride though. The first day I was in a taxi cab with a monkey, and god did that monkey love pulling this womans hair, and god did that make me laugh. About every 5 minutes I would see the mischievous little monkeys eyes pure out from behind my bag, and then sneak up and pull the ladies hair. If someone woulda taught that little fuck how to high five I woulda been laying some serious skin on him, because his practical joking was hilarious and kept me entertained for most of the first leg of the journey. At length that day we reached our friends house in the city (village) of Tappita. The entire day it had not rained but literally as soon as we got out of the cab and started walking for Max’s house it started down pouring. If this lovely country had a Facebook page under its interests and hobbies it would just say raining, and probably potato greens. Anyways so began my days of no sleep and only good times. I rested small for about 20 minutes of each day other than I was up and rocking. The night started with some Kiss me Knockout Power punch wine and closed with some Deep Love wine. They sound as undelightful as the names make them out to be. The next day we woke up late in the day to the dismay of Matthew the only responsible dude amongst us and hit the road. We piled into a taxi van with 20 other people and a few bottles of water we had recently dumped out and filled with palm wine. Good news for us was that bugs were still alive in the palm wine, which from here on out I will call medicine, anyways live bugs in the medicine = bitching sweet medicine. The one saving grace of traveling in Liberia is that you can crush on medicine the entire time you are going anywhere and not have to worry about stupid fucking laws like open container laws. Liberia is totally road soda friendly, which is almost enough to make me want to live here for the rest of my life. Anyways after long travels we reached the most villainous space port in all of the galaxy ate some Indian food, and other delightful things. I spent about $60 on candy at the grocery store, because I fucking love candy. And other than that I was at a Peace Corps event where I met the Vice President, seemed like a stand up fella, o, and I went to this awesome bar that was on a balcony over the Atlantic ocean, but nothing cool ever happens in a place like that so I won’t bore you with the details but they did play Lady Gaga, so there mighta been a dance party or two. O and they sold HL Smoothies (miller high life) for $3 But the highlight of the whole trip came when I bought the bootlegged Predators starring Adrien Brody! For $2 and as a bonus with the predators there is like 25 other shitty movies, including Salt. However, I made possibly the biggest fuck up in history of shitty action movies and did not purchase the bootlegged Expendables. WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING!?! I mean it fucking has Mickey Rourke, Stone Cold, Jason “All my movies are the same as Crank” Statham, and holding this whole motley crew together is none other than John fucking Rambo. I don’t really know what it is about, but I hear if you watch it you become pregnant because of the utter hard assedness of it, if you are man you get pregnant because compared to Sly Stallone every person in this world is a sissy girl.
While I was in Mos Eisely I stayed at the very first hotel I ever stayed at in Africa. Well actually it’s not a hotel, but a convent. But they have glass shards on the top of their huge walls encircling the compound and I like to imagine all the nuns where brass knuckles, so it’s a pretty hard ass convent. Anywho, I remember when we first got there and took a cold shower, and slept in a shitty bed, and only had a fan to cool myself I thought to myself, man fucking fuck this fucking fuck pit. However I on my return I was fucking amazed at the glamour of the place. I mean it had toilets that flush at the push of the button, a faucet that dumped water over your head in a shower like fashion, and these amazing electrical things that pushed large quantities of air at you! Fucking Ritz Carlton all up dat bitch.
Let’s see then there was the taxi ride back, it was nice, until we got stuck in the mud for three hours. Though this was a pretty cool I am in fuckin Africa moment. We got stuck at about 4 and the fun began! We had to wait for another taxi to come up to help us, once they got there we hopped on into knee deep mud pit, with winged black baseballs that people in Africa call “flies” swarming around us. For the next hour we pushed and the bald black tires spun in the red mud till they were just red globs of nothingness spitting shit into my face. After a solid hour of enhaling exhaust fumes ala Black and White* the car finally moved up the hill. Than we had to help the next taxi, and the one after that, which in all really helped me to inhale enough exhaust fumes to teach my brain who is boss for weeks. So day gave way to night and every fucking star in the known universe showed up to hang out overhead and watch us push these three taxis out of the muck and mire. Sadly at the bottom of the mud pit there were sharp jagged rocks which cut the shit out of my man feet, so now footsies hurt. But I mean I doubt it will get infected it was just a open sore in the mud for a few hours, and I mean I walk around barefoot all the time, so I just don’t see how it is gonna get infected.
The other important thing that happened on this journey was I duped into eating fucking porcupine again! God damnit! We were stopped at a check point and they were selling meat, and my friend max (this dude who ate snails) poked his head on outta the car and was like watcha selling, to which the response was, country meat. Now I have given a few rules here in Africa and I would like to make an addition to that, if in Africa and someone ever tries to sell you “country” meat don’t fucking get it. Because when they fucking say that shit what they mean to say is hot trash on a fuckin stick otherwise known as porcupine, or other shitty meat. So alas, I ate porcupine, again! Though I found out that last time I ate porcupine I was eating the skin, hence the rubbery goodness about, this time I had a nice cube of p-pine, and holy fucking shit it tasted even more like a rotten baby diaper blended with fat man sweat all served ice cold cubes of pig jiz. Well maybe it wasn’t that bad. Anywho that’s really all I got to say for now, I gotta go read or conquer a country or something. Actually to be honest I will probably go watch TV and by TV I mean I am gonna go watch the two sisters in my backyard fight each other. Fucking real life reality show, what?

Did you see that fucking gorilla!?!? It just came outta no where!

(9.26.10)
Well I finally caved and we bought a generator, which means I am now able to power stuff at my house, whenever I want, if that isn’t luxury I don’t know what is. This is good news for me the insomniac seeing seeing I will now again have something to do at night rather than just listen to the rats run around in my ceiling. This whole listening to the rats thing has been my pass time for a little too long now, but the game really gets fun when they come out of the ceiling and start running around my room. That’s when I get to get out of bed at 4 in the fucking morning in my unders with a boot on one hand and a flashlight in the other chasing these little fucks around the room. Though there is one of them that I do not chase out of fear. Seriously the first time I saw this rat I was equally terrified and psyched because it was so damn big I thought it was master Splinter running around up in my house. Needless to say we named him, and we named him Squeakers, Squeaks for short. I am so fucking terrified of this 7 inch rat I cant really put it into words. Squeaks and I have a great understanding, he does whatever the fuck he wants in my room and I let him do it otherwise he will jump on my face and tear it off, and in the process probably give me the bubonic plague! Squeaks and I do have one thing in common though, we both love to climb. One night I was actually sleeping, a rare occurrence to say the least here in Africa, anywho I woke up to ol Squeaks scaling my mosquito right near my head. My entirely manly reaction to this was to cower to the other side of my bed like a little girl and just wait for Squeaks to finish his climbing work out, dude is jacked, I think he might be on some rat roids.
Lets see what else is new, o earlier this week I looked down on my handsomely muscular milky white thigh I noticed a rather large and grotesque red boil just kickin it on my thigh. Well after a short discussion with the boil I decided that it had to pack it bags and get the hell outta Thigh Motel. The discussion between us got much more heated when I noticed a tiny little white thing wriggling all around in the very middle of the boil. Seeing as I have one rule in life and that’s I don’t let little white things pop out of boils on my leg I had to immediately pop it. After some long minutes of excruciating squeezing I popped it and out came my little friend. Turns out that here in Africa there is a fly that will lay its eggs on wet clothes after you have washed them, than when you put your clothes it burrows into your leg and goes to town so to speak. With this in mind now I have decided there is only one solution, Fuck washing my mother fucking clothes if all it does is put some weird ass fucking fly up in upper thigh bidnass area.
On the sickness related front I was sick as shit again this week. We don’t really know for sure what caused it, there was some speculation it was the porcupine, then there was some thought that it was the moldy boiled eggs I have been eating (it wasn’t so I am still eating those), but finally I decided the culprit was none other than the canned fruit cocktail that I was munching on. The reason I went with the fruit cocktail is because as Matt and I were crushing on the cocktail we noticed the gelatinous clear cubes, which of course caused us to look at the ingredients but too bad for us neither of us can read Arabic so that was out the window. In my infinite wisdom I said what is the worst that could happen and continued munching, after another short bit we noticed that there was a picture of a coconut on the front, so we decided these clear gelatinous cubes must surely be the coconut. Well I kept eating but Matt wisely stopped. The continued eating resulted in me getting up at 4 in the morning and hopping on the African teeter totter for awhile. I was actually so fucking sick we thought I had malaria, and let me tell you stabbing your finger and drawing blood sucks when you aren’t puking your brains straight out yo head, but it sucks way worse when the brain puking is the case. I gotta say waiting on a malaria test, is about as fun as waiting on a pregnancy test, or so I have heard from some friends of mine. Thankfully I did not have malaria and just vomited my brains out for a while longer and then felt great!
I have also decided to bring the 90’s back hard in Liberia. These kids have no idea what is actually hip in America so I can tell them whatevs the fucks I wants and they totes believes that shit. Yesterday I told them that all Americans love using the word tubular, so now they are all using it. I think Mondays lesson will probably be on the usage of certain catch phrases like “off da hook!” “that’s bomb.com” and “talk to the hand cause the face aint listening.” Yes if nothing else by the end of my two years here these kids will be speaking mad 90’s Colorado dude talk. So if you have any beloved 90’s phrases you want see make a comeback just let me know and I will implement them into my lesson plans. As a sidenote I would really like to create a website called thebomb.com and on it you would put things that you love. For instance if I aint a super dank cheeseburger, an impossibility in my current state of being, but that’s why it would be all the more bomb.com anyways lets say I did, I would take a picture of me crushing on this burger and post it on the website, that way everyone could go to this website and see pictures of everything that is the bomb.com in there city. It’s a great idea, and don’t fucking steal it you fucks! I also think I am going to tell them that dragons exist in America, not only do they exist but we ride them to work everyday and the best part they will believe me!
We had to go the Dru this week which totally ate a fat one do the road conditions. A 45 minute drive in America is about 3 hours here on a good day, on a bad day, like the one we traveled on, it takes about 6 hours. There was 5 times where all 9, that’s right 9! Of us got out of the taxi cab and had to walk down part of the road so the cab would not get stuck in the giant mud pools that had formed on the “road.” When Liberians say road they actually mean a small path that has been cut through the forest that in america I wouldn’t even ride my fucking mountain bike on. There was actually one hole that was so shitty that someone had come and cut a new path into the bush. So we get out watched our taxi cab back up and disappear into the bush and than come out 50 yards later. It was pretty badass. Anywho when we were a few miles outside of the Dru our taxi got seriously stuck and we had to walk into town the rest of the way, Which leads me to a life rule and question. The life rule is always pack light when traveling in Africa, that a seriously good life rule, cause you never know when your gonna have to throw your shit on your back and swim across a fucking river. The question: what did you do this Friday, was it as hardass as walking down an African path at night? No, o ok. Cool. And yes I use path instead of road on purpose. I mentioned earlier there were 9 of us in the station wagon taxi cab, driver, two in the front passenger seat, 4 in the backseat, and two VIP’s in the trunk area. In Liberia they call trunk riders( people who cant afford the full price) VIP, which I love and think is hilarious. We started with some dude in the trunk but 45 minutues he bitched out cause it was to hot. So that dudes day essentially was riding cramped up in the back of a station wagon bouncing around till he got sick, than getting out, puking, and walking back an hour in the rain. GREAT DAY! After ol pussyface got out we picked up two more dudes though. O and the best part about ol pussyfaces plight is that the driver didn’t even give him his money back!
A quick note to take in: If I were to become a DJ I would be called DJ Bear!Face and I would wear a giant grizzly bear that I would borrowed from a real life grizzly bear. My beats would be bearlicious to say the least. Actually I just want people to start calling me DJ Bear!Face because that name is so fucking fresh.
I would also like to take this time to address Tuskan raiders. I bring up Tuskan raiders because we often compare Liberia to Tattooine, that’s how bad it can be sometimes. Anyways really the only reason that the L country is better than that god forsaken desert planet is the fact that Tuskan Raiders do not exist here. If you haven’t seen Star Wars first publically shame yourself than stop reading this and go fucking watch it you asshole. Anywho TR’s are the worst, I mean they sit up on cliffs with bitchin sweet rifles and just shoot at passing cars. I mean imagine trying to go to work and having your car shot by TR’s, fucking awful. Though they also shoot at the pods during podraces, which I think opens up an interesting idea for Nascar. Everyone know that the only reason anyone watches Nascar is for the wrecks, so imagine how much better it would be there were just some crazy desert monsters in a tower shooting at Junior, and Jeff. I would become the biggest fucking Nascar fan ever, well not the biggest because I think a few stipulations for being the biggest Nascar fan ever are beating your wife and being morbidally obese, but I would still really like it.
Well that’s really all I got for now I gotta get up and go to Mos Eisely (Monrovia) in the morning to do some business and also to buy a backpack full of fucking skittles because I fucking love them! O real quick if you know me than you already know this but I actually have two rules in life, I already mentioned one in this post, and the other of course is No fatties. Just wanted

Why didn't you tell me you were a cyborg?

I didn’t think you needed to know! The headline and that line were from a movie I heard when I was walking by a videoclub one day. And the only comment I am going to make about this is you should ALWAYS tell someone if you are a cyborg, I mean that is some pertinent information, so if you are a cyborg and haven’t told everyone SHAME ON YOU!
Porcupines and children (09.16.10)
These are some nonsensicle stories that I either made up or actually happened to me these past two weeks since I left you.
Living without technology is really not all it’s cracked up to be, most specifically I need a mother fucking iPod dude. Life without good tunes is not at all bearable. However, I did it for two weeks, and not because I wanted to, but because I had no way or charging those things that needed charging, I mean I tried charming and charging them with my stunning good looks, but to be honest I think it was too powerful for them as my computer nearly exploded from too much energy. We still do not have a generator, but we did befriend a rad Lebanese dude named Rafic, who has been helping us out (namely bringing me some whiskey from Monrovia) but he also let us charge our shit at his shop which totes rules. I would like to take this time to say thanks to the American people for buying my beer last night when I was hanging out with a few of the teachers from work. Be at ease Americans! Your tax dollars are hard at work at the local African bar helping me make friends!
So last week I ate some of the worlds most dangerous game: PORCUPINE! Some woman was walking with some food on her head and I was all like “yo lady whatcha got on tops that noggin?” and she was all like “what did you say whiteman?” and I was like “what food you selling?” Well after some more small talk that I wont make you suffer through, I mean I think you get the feeling for the conversation, I found out she was selling my favorite soup, Pepper soup. I proceeded to ask her what meat was in the soup and after some discussion it was found to be a porcupine. At this point two thoughts immediately jump into my head 1. Fuck, that sounds really gross. 2. But dude how many chances are you gonna get to eat the mighty and majestic porcupine? Well needless to say the idiot side of me won out and I purchased some of the P-pine. It likes eating a spiky tire, except I think the tire might have a little better flavor, and be a smidge easier to chew. Here is a good rule for y’all: Never fucking eat that shit ass animal. Anyways at some later point I was walking through the market picking up some food and coal to cook that night and I ran across the infamous Putter. Putter is white mud that people eat. I don’t know why anyway would ever want to eat mud, seriously who the fuck eats it? I mean I bet it taste that dirt or maybe chicken. Anyways I while eating my egg sandwich later that day I was marveling at the fact that I could make a porcupine-mud sandwich, I wouldn’t ever want to, but I live in a place where I have that option. I mean go to your local Subway and order that! You fucking cant! Though I cant either because I lack the Subway to begin with.
Later that night when making dinner we ran into the small problem of we made way too many rice and beans. We made a fuck ton of rice and beans and I was going to try and power through it and eat it all because, you know, there are starving children in Africa, but than I was like fuck dude I don’t need to make myself sick eating too much, because I am in fucking Africa and those starving kids are literally right outside my door. So as a result the little kids that hang out outside my house got to eat some rice and beans. But while I was still eating my rice and beans I was thinking about how nice it would be to have a lime with my meal, so I asked a kid and they literally ran to my backyard and picked a lime from the lime tree! BOOM!
Teaching is going slow, I have both tenth grade classes for chemistry and biology (there is a little over 50 in all four classes which means I have to grade about 200 fucking papers every time I give homework or a quiz and let me tell you what really sucks, doing that shit!) Anyways they are a little bit behind of where they should be, and by a little I mean crazy far behind. To give you an idea of how far behind they are I asked them what 10 times 1000 is and the best guess I got was 8. It’s not that they are dumb by any means, it just that the war put education way far behind and that sucks. But anyways the kids or rather adults seeing as most of my students are older than me are good people and they really do want to learn so that’s cool. But I teach 3 days a week, so I mean I am just so busy that I cant even put it into words! O wait no I am not! I am not busy at all; mostly I just sit around and read all day! Though I am looking forward to November so I can start on some secondary projects as I think they will be the more helpful part of my service and also they will really cut down on the boredom.
Lets see what else is new???? O here is a fun fact: There are fucking maggots crawling out the hole in the ground (toilet) in the house. So that sucks. That’s really all I have to say about that.
O and this week I have to chaperon a high school dance! So that makes me feel awesome! Its going to be at the rocking club called the Embassy! The Embassy is the club in our small town, I think I saw six people there once. Also as a good rule of thumb, the best place to enjoy the Embassies speaker system is across the street, because they turn up there fucking speakers so loud it would give a deaf man a headache from too much noise. But rest assured friends I will be making sure there is gosh plenty room for the Holy Spirit! If there is one thing that catholic school taught me besides nuns are scary, it is always to leave room for the H-Spirit!
And to wrap it a few highlights Spaghetti is fucking delicious and the Bleard is back and here to stay! At least until mustachio march.
O here is another fun story, last night at about 4 in the morn I was outside draining the ol’ lizard and seeing as it is 4 AM in Africa its fucking pitch black! So as I am standing there doing my thing this dude walking by just says hello. THIS SCARED THE FUCK OUT OF ME! I mean it’s a good thing I was peeing already otherwise I woulda pissed my fucking pants. I mean just cant go around tossing out hellos when people don’t even know you are there! It literally scares the piss out of them!
Well that’s about all I got so my advice to you is to go do something cool with your life rather than reading this shitty thing.