11th: Today was a glorius day weather-wise, and we decided to make the most of it by going to a waterpark...
So after our cheap McDonalds breakfast, and 93.7 Bob FM was turned on; we set off. A good hour or so later we had arrived, and sat down on some sunbeds by the wave pool, where my mum would stay for the entirety of the day, without an inch of movement; choosing just to fry in the desert-esque heat, while my dad and I go on all the slides... And that we did... Nearly...
We went on a few tame ones at first, but then came across these two different slides, both in the same place. One was a near to vertical drop, straight slide, whilst the other WAS a directly vertical drop, which you had to step onto, before a trapdoor would open, and you fall straight down - ABSOLUTELY MENTAL!... As it was about midday at this point, and so getting busy; and being the kind, thoughtful, generous, charming, beautiful young man that I am; I let my dad decide which one to go on (as it was unlikely we were gonna be able to queue up for both, considering the crazily long lines for both...). Without a linger of thought, and potentially fearing his life; he chose the moderately mental one, which I have to say, being albeit slightly relieved at the time; I'm a bit gutted right about now...
So we waited in line for about 40 minutes, for this 10 second ride (logical, huh?...), where we just went down the chute at about 50mph, and came out the other end a little bit giddy; all the while we watched others going on this even more mental ride - some little kid of about 8 marched up to the Star-Trek-like pods which you had to stand in like a guerrilla; standing about half an inch above the minimum height line, trembling like Anne Robinson in a house of mirrors; squeaking like a mouse "ready now", before before shot down the endless pit of doom... I tell you now... Despite the high-pitched voice; that kid has some SERIOUS balls... Or at least he did... They've since been ripped off, alongside his face, from the G-force of dropping vertically 500feet... Poor kid...
Well we went on that and a few other stuff, went in the wave pool, had a churro (which is at LONG LAST may I add - in my opinion, no trip to the states is complete, until you've eaten a churro, and I've nagged my dad since the moment we landed in NYC, to get me one, and this was the first open opportunity... I was very pleased indeed...), and then left at about 3, because we'd all agreed that we were sick of the sun... What I HADN'T agreed on however, was what my parents had in store for me next - clothes shopping...
Now I'm the worst in the world when it comes to shopping - I ABSOLUTELY hate it, and so never end up buying anything... But considering our hotel is just 10 minutes away from this huge premium label shopping plaza place, and how I've been interminably nagged on how I "need some new clothes for Sixth form", I had very little say in the matter... So off we went; going through all these different shops (about 6 or 7 different ones; all of which are just about the same to me, except for Lacoste... I refuse to look even more of a chav than I already have to, thanks... Plus they're French...), and ended up leaving with just one Ralph Lauren polo... And what's more?... To me, that was a successful trip... I actually bought something, before physically dying of boredom... Well done me...
Thanks,
Kempo.
Thursday 14 July 2011
Fredd Shells Shea Shells On The Shea Shore... Oh For Fu...
10th: Today was the day that we were going to make the hour long drive down to Virginia Beach, and spend the afternoon taking in the sun...
So after breakfast, we set off on our ventures; sitting in the car with the radio on as our only form of entertainment... Our adopted station is 93.7 Bob FM (creative name, huh?...), because the moment we got the car (when we left Washington), we did what any normal person does with the radio in a new car - go through EVERY predefined channel over and over and over again, until something listenable comes on, marking that station as the car's default channel, no matter HOW bad EVERY other song they play for the rest of eternity is... Bob FM was exactly this channel for us... And their slogan of "Turn your knob... To Bob..." is a thing that even the great Dr Seuss himself, would be proud to call his own...
Now I'm fine with Bob, but my dad?... Not so much... Bob tends to play mostly 80s pop, or if not; Bono, or that annoying husky voiced loser who sings on that DFS advert, where his music video is essentially "You know what'd be good?... Let's make a video in a HUGE swimming pool - I mean like the BIGGEST pool you could possibly imagine; we'll chuck Shamu outta Seaworld and freaking use his crib or summat... Well anyway; we go to this pool, and we bring over all of Hugh Hefner's jailbait; chuck them all in there; booze 'em up, and then use it as a distraction to our crappy, anti-lyrical sludge troff of a song... Then use it on as many TV ads as possible... Genius!..." Now despite him quite liking U2, my dad for whatever reason hates 80s music; so pretty much all I ever hear in the car is "oh come on, Bob!", or "Bob, that's awful!", whilst I tremble in enraged horror, at the paternal blasphemy which I am forced to witness...
So the usual journey took place (80s song, moan, 80s song, moan, loser bloke, moan, Bono, satisfied silence), all the way up to VA beach; where we parked up for the princely sum of $10 for 3 hours (any longer, and they threatened to tow us, although it's not like they're gonna be able to sell this little pecker of an overly-AVIS-sticker-branded-spunkmobile...), walked onto the beach, and sat down on the sand...
At first it was quite pleasant; laying down, enjoying that rarest of things to a native Englishman - sun. Looking around, I could see that the local sport was Volleyball; considering there were about 5 billion nets up - it looked like the beach at Normandy... if only the Nazis were lead by a camp sports enthusiast, rather than a fascist nutcase... The problems came at about 1o'clock, when the sun was at it's spiteful peak (about 102F on this particular day), and the surfer dudes decided to invade our area of the beach, despite there being a surfer-exclusive area down the other end... So we sat, essentially slow-cooking ourselves (as by this time, my feet and shoulders were the colour of a ripe raspberry...), with our only amount of solace being the viewing of some big-headed little loser falling on his face every ten minutes or so... I suppose that's what pulled me through it...
We left at about 4, as we'd realised that our sunburn was at the point of impending cancer; and made our way home... Now I've gotta say that I was a little disappointed, as while we glided down Atlantic Avenue, I was on the look out for a big guy in a navy outfit (and although that may seem like the gayest thing I've ever said; it's really not meant to be - a friend of mine; Fredd; who has just come back from a stint of working in the US Navy, has a house out there. Now despite not living there at the moment, I thought he might fly back to Virginia Beach for a special appearance, but nope - nutin... Friggin lazy Murricans...), but could find only premium rate ghost rides among the streets... Still... We drove about there for a while, so the chances I saw his house are pretty high... I am therefore the world's greatest stalker - sorry Morgan... My cross-Atlantic manhunt cannot be outdone...
So in an attempt to make up for my disappointment, I decided to stuff my face with Wendy's (again; let me point out here that filacio was at no point a part of my holiday... Wendy's is a food chain... Not a cheap, local prostitute... I mean what the hell kinda prossy'd be called Wendy?!? By LAW it has to be summat outrageously slutty, like Krystal, or Onyx, or some other form of second-rate gemstone...) - a half pound baconator to be precise (and you KNOW something's gonna be good when it's got "ator" at the end...); which was quintessentially less healthy than eating a solid block of pure lard... So considering that I have football training the Saturday I get back; probably not my wisest decision... But my GOD... it was beautiful... Like a genuine edible orgasm... Wonderful...
The lesson I learned from it all?... That whenever you're upset by something in life, it's always comforting to increase your chance of stroke and heart disease by 4.2%, in one big ol' heap of pig in a bun... Now if THAT'S not what America is all about, I don't wanna know what is...
Thanks,
Kempo.
So after breakfast, we set off on our ventures; sitting in the car with the radio on as our only form of entertainment... Our adopted station is 93.7 Bob FM (creative name, huh?...), because the moment we got the car (when we left Washington), we did what any normal person does with the radio in a new car - go through EVERY predefined channel over and over and over again, until something listenable comes on, marking that station as the car's default channel, no matter HOW bad EVERY other song they play for the rest of eternity is... Bob FM was exactly this channel for us... And their slogan of "Turn your knob... To Bob..." is a thing that even the great Dr Seuss himself, would be proud to call his own...
Now I'm fine with Bob, but my dad?... Not so much... Bob tends to play mostly 80s pop, or if not; Bono, or that annoying husky voiced loser who sings on that DFS advert, where his music video is essentially "You know what'd be good?... Let's make a video in a HUGE swimming pool - I mean like the BIGGEST pool you could possibly imagine; we'll chuck Shamu outta Seaworld and freaking use his crib or summat... Well anyway; we go to this pool, and we bring over all of Hugh Hefner's jailbait; chuck them all in there; booze 'em up, and then use it as a distraction to our crappy, anti-lyrical sludge troff of a song... Then use it on as many TV ads as possible... Genius!..." Now despite him quite liking U2, my dad for whatever reason hates 80s music; so pretty much all I ever hear in the car is "oh come on, Bob!", or "Bob, that's awful!", whilst I tremble in enraged horror, at the paternal blasphemy which I am forced to witness...
So the usual journey took place (80s song, moan, 80s song, moan, loser bloke, moan, Bono, satisfied silence), all the way up to VA beach; where we parked up for the princely sum of $10 for 3 hours (any longer, and they threatened to tow us, although it's not like they're gonna be able to sell this little pecker of an overly-AVIS-sticker-branded-spunkmobile...), walked onto the beach, and sat down on the sand...
At first it was quite pleasant; laying down, enjoying that rarest of things to a native Englishman - sun. Looking around, I could see that the local sport was Volleyball; considering there were about 5 billion nets up - it looked like the beach at Normandy... if only the Nazis were lead by a camp sports enthusiast, rather than a fascist nutcase... The problems came at about 1o'clock, when the sun was at it's spiteful peak (about 102F on this particular day), and the surfer dudes decided to invade our area of the beach, despite there being a surfer-exclusive area down the other end... So we sat, essentially slow-cooking ourselves (as by this time, my feet and shoulders were the colour of a ripe raspberry...), with our only amount of solace being the viewing of some big-headed little loser falling on his face every ten minutes or so... I suppose that's what pulled me through it...
We left at about 4, as we'd realised that our sunburn was at the point of impending cancer; and made our way home... Now I've gotta say that I was a little disappointed, as while we glided down Atlantic Avenue, I was on the look out for a big guy in a navy outfit (and although that may seem like the gayest thing I've ever said; it's really not meant to be - a friend of mine; Fredd; who has just come back from a stint of working in the US Navy, has a house out there. Now despite not living there at the moment, I thought he might fly back to Virginia Beach for a special appearance, but nope - nutin... Friggin lazy Murricans...), but could find only premium rate ghost rides among the streets... Still... We drove about there for a while, so the chances I saw his house are pretty high... I am therefore the world's greatest stalker - sorry Morgan... My cross-Atlantic manhunt cannot be outdone...
So in an attempt to make up for my disappointment, I decided to stuff my face with Wendy's (again; let me point out here that filacio was at no point a part of my holiday... Wendy's is a food chain... Not a cheap, local prostitute... I mean what the hell kinda prossy'd be called Wendy?!? By LAW it has to be summat outrageously slutty, like Krystal, or Onyx, or some other form of second-rate gemstone...) - a half pound baconator to be precise (and you KNOW something's gonna be good when it's got "ator" at the end...); which was quintessentially less healthy than eating a solid block of pure lard... So considering that I have football training the Saturday I get back; probably not my wisest decision... But my GOD... it was beautiful... Like a genuine edible orgasm... Wonderful...
The lesson I learned from it all?... That whenever you're upset by something in life, it's always comforting to increase your chance of stroke and heart disease by 4.2%, in one big ol' heap of pig in a bun... Now if THAT'S not what America is all about, I don't wanna know what is...
Thanks,
Kempo.
Sunday 10 July 2011
Taking Relaxation To A Whole New Level...
Well... By now, you're one of only 3 people who actively read this crap, and hasn't yet realised how terrible it really is, or if you have; are still expecting it to get good at some point. Unfortunately, that's unlikely... And firmly in the knowledge of that; I'm gonna keep yesterday's post relatively short...
So what did we do yesterday?... Not a lot really... (like I say; here it's just about relaxing really)... We toured another one of these stupid old towns; only this one was even worse than the one we went to the day before, because there weren't even any existing buildings - they've all fallen apart, and so all's left is some forest with a car-trail around the outside, on a river-bed... Brilliant... We went around the track, and saw nothing but about ten billion tiny crabs crawling about... Much like going on a night tour of South London...
So we left there, and went down to some tiny beach... Nothing much about there; just slutty old women, and some paedophiles in speedos... So the highlight of that place was the Ben & Jerry's (which, for the record; WASN'T given to me by one of the paedophiles... I mean, I'm a sexy mudafudgepacker, but I'm DEFINATELY not worth the price of that stuff... Freaking expensive...)... Had Cherry with Strawberry Shortcake... Verrrrrrnice...
So we hit absolute boredom (Exactly -273.15 fulfilled expectations), and just went back to the hotel to just chill poolside... There, I spent all day on twitter and getting a colour... And by "a colour"; I mean crimson... Ahh the glories of shoulder sunburn...
So yeah... That was it - the entire day... Nothing happened... So NOW will you stopped reading this damned blog?!? No?... Even THAT wasn't bad enough to warrant a total abandonment???... Well in that case I have absolutely no idea what to do... Truth is, I have near to no enthusiasm doing this now, so they're getting significantly worse by the day... Luckily there are only about another 4 or 5 to go... Thank the lord....
Thanks,
Kempo.
So what did we do yesterday?... Not a lot really... (like I say; here it's just about relaxing really)... We toured another one of these stupid old towns; only this one was even worse than the one we went to the day before, because there weren't even any existing buildings - they've all fallen apart, and so all's left is some forest with a car-trail around the outside, on a river-bed... Brilliant... We went around the track, and saw nothing but about ten billion tiny crabs crawling about... Much like going on a night tour of South London...
So we left there, and went down to some tiny beach... Nothing much about there; just slutty old women, and some paedophiles in speedos... So the highlight of that place was the Ben & Jerry's (which, for the record; WASN'T given to me by one of the paedophiles... I mean, I'm a sexy mudafudgepacker, but I'm DEFINATELY not worth the price of that stuff... Freaking expensive...)... Had Cherry with Strawberry Shortcake... Verrrrrrnice...
So we hit absolute boredom (Exactly -273.15 fulfilled expectations), and just went back to the hotel to just chill poolside... There, I spent all day on twitter and getting a colour... And by "a colour"; I mean crimson... Ahh the glories of shoulder sunburn...
So yeah... That was it - the entire day... Nothing happened... So NOW will you stopped reading this damned blog?!? No?... Even THAT wasn't bad enough to warrant a total abandonment???... Well in that case I have absolutely no idea what to do... Truth is, I have near to no enthusiasm doing this now, so they're getting significantly worse by the day... Luckily there are only about another 4 or 5 to go... Thank the lord....
Thanks,
Kempo.
Saturday 9 July 2011
I'm A Man Of The Land, I'm Into Discipline; Got A Bible In My Hand, And A Beard On My Chin. If I Finish All Of My Chores, And You Finish Thine, Then Tonight We're Gonna Party Like It's 1699...
Well yesterday was fun.... (again with the difficulty of telling sarcasm through writing...) It started with breakfast in a local pancake shop, which was apparently the hotspot for the Virginian police force, as 3 mustangs kitted out in blues pulled up, with no less than 8 officers coming out of them (so much for the stereotype... Apparently pancakes and Belgian waffles are much preferred to doughnuts for American policemen)...
It was as we were leaving the scraps of my strawberry (well at least they claimed that they were strawberries... In fact they were just these horridly bitter, soggy, flat, brown things... They were like the strawberry's embarrassing uncle, that nobody speaks of to sane society, in case people think they're all a bunch of mental-cases...) pancakes, my dad said, AND I QUOTE; "What d'you wanna do?... It's not like there's not a lot to do around here..." I could tell from that, that something horrendous was in store, but NOBODY deserved this... We drove for about 15 minutes, and pulled up in a car park. Without even thinking about asking where we were, I follow my parents in through a visitor centre, across a bridge, and along some path into a desolate town. It took until I saw 3 seemingly Amish locals, for me to begin questioning what the hell was going on here... We had apparently gone to a refurbished 17th century town called Williamsburg, where people are hired to dress up in costumes, and act as if they lived during the American Revolution, which we would be walking around; not even allowed in the actual buildings themselves (as that would cost $75 per person for some erratically unknown reason), because this would of course be the best thing to do considering "it's not like there's not a lot to do around here..."... Needless to say; it WASN'T the best thing I've ever done in my life... Or that morning even...
Since we were just walking around some place which was essentially like a 17th century Basildon, or a late 20th century Swansea(Mehehehe... It's funny, because I'm saying that Welsh people are backward....); it was obviously just about the most boring and pointless thing in the world; like a vibrator with an "oh alright, but don't wake me up" setting... To entertain myself, I did the only thing a cynical, bored teen would do in my situation... Try to find as many flaws in their poor attempt of a 17th century portal as I possibly could...
Now, ignoring the many CCTV security cameras (that were poorly hidden by placing them in trees, and painting them in a completely different shade of brown), and the fact that there was a constant flurry of automobiling traffic on the road next to us (concealed in it's utmost by a 2" tall hedge); there were still many issues I found... The main problem was the store. (They basically had this little shop, which supposedly sells things available in 17th century America, so we thought we'd have a little look inside) Now, ignoring the fact that pewter at the time had a huge lead content, so couldn't ever have been used for a teapot, unless you were intentionally trying to poison yourself (but not even a 17th century Basildonian(or a 20th century Welshman) is that stupid...(ooh there I go again... What am I like...?))... And as well as that, the outrageous price of $270 being nowhere near the sort of figure it would have been at the time; I just love how the shopkeeper was willing to accept a few $50s from some old dear, for it; thus ditching the entire idea of a 17th century American town for a little bit of money, as of course - Ulysses Grant wasn't about until the 1800s... If they REALLY wanted it to be legitimate, they would've just accepted an old drinks can (aluminium was considered to be the rarest and most expensive metal at the time.... Stupid Americans...), but no... All about the futuristic green paper...
Now there were plenty of things like this: the automatic flushing toilet, rather than just a wooden pit (I mean COME ON!!! The one time where you're morally OBLIGED to give me typhoid, and you don't even follow that through...), the black man who has been hired as a typical home-owner, as apposed to a slave-worker (because that wouldn't be politically correct...), the gardener who was driving around on his huge lawnmowermobile trimming the grass... The list goes on forever... But I complained that I was bored after about an hour (although truth be told, I was bored from the outset - who wouldn't be...?), and we left back for the hotel...
So we sat around for an hour or two, then went out bowling.... Like you do.... My dad claimed that it was a treat especially for me, but when I found out that there was an offer - 99cent games all day for that day only; I started to understand why we'd been on this one alley for the past 17 hours... Still... Had fun... I was terrible, so don't get me wrong there (my best score was the godly amount of 103), and there were some bowling nerds next to us who were scoring WAY into the 200s - they were just about as professional as you can imagine; they had the personalised ball, the personalised shoes, hell; if only they had a custom team shirt with a crap, and overly thought-over team name, like "Has-Pins" or "Super Bowls", and one of those machines bald people use to make their head shiny; you'd think they were actual pros. I mean they were spinning it here, there, and every freaking where... Spare, strike, strike, 7..... Spare... All the while, I got: gutter, gutter, gutter, 4... Gutter... Made me feel worse than a paralytic in a lap dancing club... Still... Considering Obama's PB score is 38; that makes me nearly 3 times better than the President.... I'll take that....
Thanks,
Kempo.
It was as we were leaving the scraps of my strawberry (well at least they claimed that they were strawberries... In fact they were just these horridly bitter, soggy, flat, brown things... They were like the strawberry's embarrassing uncle, that nobody speaks of to sane society, in case people think they're all a bunch of mental-cases...) pancakes, my dad said, AND I QUOTE; "What d'you wanna do?... It's not like there's not a lot to do around here..." I could tell from that, that something horrendous was in store, but NOBODY deserved this... We drove for about 15 minutes, and pulled up in a car park. Without even thinking about asking where we were, I follow my parents in through a visitor centre, across a bridge, and along some path into a desolate town. It took until I saw 3 seemingly Amish locals, for me to begin questioning what the hell was going on here... We had apparently gone to a refurbished 17th century town called Williamsburg, where people are hired to dress up in costumes, and act as if they lived during the American Revolution, which we would be walking around; not even allowed in the actual buildings themselves (as that would cost $75 per person for some erratically unknown reason), because this would of course be the best thing to do considering "it's not like there's not a lot to do around here..."... Needless to say; it WASN'T the best thing I've ever done in my life... Or that morning even...
Since we were just walking around some place which was essentially like a 17th century Basildon, or a late 20th century Swansea(Mehehehe... It's funny, because I'm saying that Welsh people are backward....); it was obviously just about the most boring and pointless thing in the world; like a vibrator with an "oh alright, but don't wake me up" setting... To entertain myself, I did the only thing a cynical, bored teen would do in my situation... Try to find as many flaws in their poor attempt of a 17th century portal as I possibly could...
Now, ignoring the many CCTV security cameras (that were poorly hidden by placing them in trees, and painting them in a completely different shade of brown), and the fact that there was a constant flurry of automobiling traffic on the road next to us (concealed in it's utmost by a 2" tall hedge); there were still many issues I found... The main problem was the store. (They basically had this little shop, which supposedly sells things available in 17th century America, so we thought we'd have a little look inside) Now, ignoring the fact that pewter at the time had a huge lead content, so couldn't ever have been used for a teapot, unless you were intentionally trying to poison yourself (but not even a 17th century Basildonian(or a 20th century Welshman) is that stupid...(ooh there I go again... What am I like...?))... And as well as that, the outrageous price of $270 being nowhere near the sort of figure it would have been at the time; I just love how the shopkeeper was willing to accept a few $50s from some old dear, for it; thus ditching the entire idea of a 17th century American town for a little bit of money, as of course - Ulysses Grant wasn't about until the 1800s... If they REALLY wanted it to be legitimate, they would've just accepted an old drinks can (aluminium was considered to be the rarest and most expensive metal at the time.... Stupid Americans...), but no... All about the futuristic green paper...
Now there were plenty of things like this: the automatic flushing toilet, rather than just a wooden pit (I mean COME ON!!! The one time where you're morally OBLIGED to give me typhoid, and you don't even follow that through...), the black man who has been hired as a typical home-owner, as apposed to a slave-worker (because that wouldn't be politically correct...), the gardener who was driving around on his huge lawnmowermobile trimming the grass... The list goes on forever... But I complained that I was bored after about an hour (although truth be told, I was bored from the outset - who wouldn't be...?), and we left back for the hotel...
So we sat around for an hour or two, then went out bowling.... Like you do.... My dad claimed that it was a treat especially for me, but when I found out that there was an offer - 99cent games all day for that day only; I started to understand why we'd been on this one alley for the past 17 hours... Still... Had fun... I was terrible, so don't get me wrong there (my best score was the godly amount of 103), and there were some bowling nerds next to us who were scoring WAY into the 200s - they were just about as professional as you can imagine; they had the personalised ball, the personalised shoes, hell; if only they had a custom team shirt with a crap, and overly thought-over team name, like "Has-Pins" or "Super Bowls", and one of those machines bald people use to make their head shiny; you'd think they were actual pros. I mean they were spinning it here, there, and every freaking where... Spare, strike, strike, 7..... Spare... All the while, I got: gutter, gutter, gutter, 4... Gutter... Made me feel worse than a paralytic in a lap dancing club... Still... Considering Obama's PB score is 38; that makes me nearly 3 times better than the President.... I'll take that....
Thanks,
Kempo.
Thursday 7 July 2011
On The Road Again...
July 7th: Today was another travel day, where we drove south for three hours; but now here I am - The beautiful state of Virginia.
I mean, after spending all this time so far in the dull greyness of American cities, I had essentially forgotten about the existence of trees, and wildlife in general; so this is a nice change... The weather has been wonderful - just constant hot, cloudless sunshine; and what's more?... The resort has it's own freaking golf course... I mean COME ON!!! Now I don't play golf, nor do I intend to learn how to over the coming week; but just knowing that the possibility is open to me makes me feel pretty awesome...
So yeah; the next 5 days are gonna be pretty lazy if I'm honest... Laying in the sun... Floating in the pool... Playing a bit of tennis... All the sort of stuff you do in a normal summer holiday when all you wanna do is relax, yknow?... Much more like my kinda holiday...
The only problem with the place, was that our room was sat next to one, full of these annoying little children (who I swear have ADD), and their crazily aggressive dad. So for perhaps 3 or 4 hours, we were just in our room watching TV, whilst through the wall, all we hear is a symphony of high pitched screaming, before a low frequency, foul-mouthed tirade from their dad; which in turn only lead to yet more crying and screaming, and in turn more shouting, in a spiralling cycle of trumping insanity... Now during all of this, I had my iPod on, so barely noticed it; but my dad on the other hand, was flipping more than a Blue Peter pancake - he was just going CRAZY... It took until the point when he was physically sharpening his toothbrush into a dagger, to go on a mental murdering massacre; for my mum to finally suggest that he had probably ought to mention the problem to the front desk... That he did, and we are now in a different room on the other side of the hotel... So now it's quiet enough to sleep, and my dad won't be put on the electric chair... A win win situation if ever I've seen one...
Thanks,
Kempo.
I mean, after spending all this time so far in the dull greyness of American cities, I had essentially forgotten about the existence of trees, and wildlife in general; so this is a nice change... The weather has been wonderful - just constant hot, cloudless sunshine; and what's more?... The resort has it's own freaking golf course... I mean COME ON!!! Now I don't play golf, nor do I intend to learn how to over the coming week; but just knowing that the possibility is open to me makes me feel pretty awesome...
So yeah; the next 5 days are gonna be pretty lazy if I'm honest... Laying in the sun... Floating in the pool... Playing a bit of tennis... All the sort of stuff you do in a normal summer holiday when all you wanna do is relax, yknow?... Much more like my kinda holiday...
The only problem with the place, was that our room was sat next to one, full of these annoying little children (who I swear have ADD), and their crazily aggressive dad. So for perhaps 3 or 4 hours, we were just in our room watching TV, whilst through the wall, all we hear is a symphony of high pitched screaming, before a low frequency, foul-mouthed tirade from their dad; which in turn only lead to yet more crying and screaming, and in turn more shouting, in a spiralling cycle of trumping insanity... Now during all of this, I had my iPod on, so barely noticed it; but my dad on the other hand, was flipping more than a Blue Peter pancake - he was just going CRAZY... It took until the point when he was physically sharpening his toothbrush into a dagger, to go on a mental murdering massacre; for my mum to finally suggest that he had probably ought to mention the problem to the front desk... That he did, and we are now in a different room on the other side of the hotel... So now it's quiet enough to sleep, and my dad won't be put on the electric chair... A win win situation if ever I've seen one...
Thanks,
Kempo.
Taxi For Kempo... dananananananuh dananananananaananuhh danuhh daanuhh dananananananaah dananananuh danananuhhna danuhh danananuhh danuhh naanaadanananananuhh... Taxi Is Filmed In Front Of A Live Streetside Audience...
July 6th: Today has been my last full day here in DC, before the big travel day, further down south tomorrow; and we spent our time touring the memorials to just about every American in history... Not that I dislike doing that, or mean to disrespect the dead; just once you've spent 5 hours already in a state of semi-depressive sombreness, another few hours makes it seem almost normal...
STILL; our morning was taken up by a tour of all the DC monuments by a guy who I believe was called Tim Stewart... Now, I have to say that he genuinely was just about the best tourguide I've ever had... Seriously an awesome guy - a retired teacher, who really seems to enjoy his new job of touring the city, and also really knows what he's talking about... So he took us about all the different DC memorials, from WWII, to Vietnam, to Lincoln, to Korea; at all of which he was really interactive with the group - he even gave me a (albeit party-sized) packet of m&ms... And I approve of any man who needlessly gives me free chocolate... That being said; it's no large hole in his wallet, considering he got tipped just short of $500 for 4 hours work (you're not gonna be earning THAT sort of money from working the grills in McDonalds...)... He was VERY good though...
So we finished the tour, and the next thing my dad wanted to do was a tour of this huge US military graveyard, just across the river, in outer Virginia... Now, I'm wearing these shorts which have HUGE pockets - perfect for carrying and pickpocketing my valuables... (I've got a few pairs of shorts and jeans like this, with the huge pockets, so just for the record; if my hand's ever in one or even both of the pockets, I'm merely protecting my phone/iPod/camera etc. as apposed to not so secretly masterbating in public...) So anyway, to get across this river, instead of taking the 35minute walk, we decided to hire a cab (we're not lazy; just filthy rich...); so we sat down, drove a couple of minutes, got out, paid the driver, and started walking up to this graveyard. Now of course it's a bit impractical to have your hand in your pocket whilst sitting in the back of a cab, on the side which the pocket is; so I didn't... It's only once we got to the gate of the cemetery when I decided it might be a good idea to check my pocket... Phone, iPod, wallet... Ahh... (at this point, I say again; I'm NOT rubbing one off when my hand's in my pocket... That was like a disappointed sigh, rather than a joyous groan... And no; not in the slightest bit disappointed because of my poor performance... Because I didn't even start... (Hmm... This hole's getting bigger and bigger, yet I keep digging...) Y'know what? Just shut up... Yeah... That'll teach you...) ...No camera... Now obviously the taxi had left a good 3 or 4 minutes before this point, and he's hardly gonna check his back seat, see a camera, and go out of his way to start a mad headhunt throughout the District of Columbia & Virginia, just to return this old scratched up block of plastic to some British kid who sat in his car once... There's more chance of Al-Qaeda calling off the bombing stuff, and going into the agricultural business, with their new company; Osama's Farmers... It's not that it's an expensive camera (like I said, it's old, scratched up, and only like 5MP), but it's just the combination of my holiday memories being lost, plus knowing that somewhere out there, somebody's holding my stuff, and there's not a damned thing I can do about it... (by the way mysterious, unknown finder of my camera - do us all a favour and delete photo 17 for me without reporting it to the federal agencies... Oh and 19... And 24... And 27... And all of them between 45-63... Hell; just delete anything with an animal, car exhaust, or oddly shaped tree trunk in it... Thanks - much appreciated...) So for the rest of the day (and holiday for that matter), I'm having to cope with the loss of my camera... Now I'm not saying that it's nearly as significant as the loss of JFK, but it certainly made his eternal flame seem a lot tamer than it otherwise would've been...
R.I.P. Kempokam - '05-'11
Thanks,
Kempo.
STILL; our morning was taken up by a tour of all the DC monuments by a guy who I believe was called Tim Stewart... Now, I have to say that he genuinely was just about the best tourguide I've ever had... Seriously an awesome guy - a retired teacher, who really seems to enjoy his new job of touring the city, and also really knows what he's talking about... So he took us about all the different DC memorials, from WWII, to Vietnam, to Lincoln, to Korea; at all of which he was really interactive with the group - he even gave me a (albeit party-sized) packet of m&ms... And I approve of any man who needlessly gives me free chocolate... That being said; it's no large hole in his wallet, considering he got tipped just short of $500 for 4 hours work (you're not gonna be earning THAT sort of money from working the grills in McDonalds...)... He was VERY good though...
So we finished the tour, and the next thing my dad wanted to do was a tour of this huge US military graveyard, just across the river, in outer Virginia... Now, I'm wearing these shorts which have HUGE pockets - perfect for carrying and pickpocketing my valuables... (I've got a few pairs of shorts and jeans like this, with the huge pockets, so just for the record; if my hand's ever in one or even both of the pockets, I'm merely protecting my phone/iPod/camera etc. as apposed to not so secretly masterbating in public...) So anyway, to get across this river, instead of taking the 35minute walk, we decided to hire a cab (we're not lazy; just filthy rich...); so we sat down, drove a couple of minutes, got out, paid the driver, and started walking up to this graveyard. Now of course it's a bit impractical to have your hand in your pocket whilst sitting in the back of a cab, on the side which the pocket is; so I didn't... It's only once we got to the gate of the cemetery when I decided it might be a good idea to check my pocket... Phone, iPod, wallet... Ahh... (at this point, I say again; I'm NOT rubbing one off when my hand's in my pocket... That was like a disappointed sigh, rather than a joyous groan... And no; not in the slightest bit disappointed because of my poor performance... Because I didn't even start... (Hmm... This hole's getting bigger and bigger, yet I keep digging...) Y'know what? Just shut up... Yeah... That'll teach you...) ...No camera... Now obviously the taxi had left a good 3 or 4 minutes before this point, and he's hardly gonna check his back seat, see a camera, and go out of his way to start a mad headhunt throughout the District of Columbia & Virginia, just to return this old scratched up block of plastic to some British kid who sat in his car once... There's more chance of Al-Qaeda calling off the bombing stuff, and going into the agricultural business, with their new company; Osama's Farmers... It's not that it's an expensive camera (like I said, it's old, scratched up, and only like 5MP), but it's just the combination of my holiday memories being lost, plus knowing that somewhere out there, somebody's holding my stuff, and there's not a damned thing I can do about it... (by the way mysterious, unknown finder of my camera - do us all a favour and delete photo 17 for me without reporting it to the federal agencies... Oh and 19... And 24... And 27... And all of them between 45-63... Hell; just delete anything with an animal, car exhaust, or oddly shaped tree trunk in it... Thanks - much appreciated...) So for the rest of the day (and holiday for that matter), I'm having to cope with the loss of my camera... Now I'm not saying that it's nearly as significant as the loss of JFK, but it certainly made his eternal flame seem a lot tamer than it otherwise would've been...
R.I.P. Kempokam - '05-'11
Thanks,
Kempo.
Shot On Set
July 5th: The first full day in DC today, and as such, dad thought it'd be good to go around looking at sites and such...
So off we went to Capitol building (yeah; they just let me into the American government building, just like that... I mean I really don't understand why Osama had such troubles...) and had a tour about the place... Now, I say "tour", but to be honest, I've had longer house tours than that - we went in a grand total of THREE; yes THREE, small, cramped rooms... All of these rooms were totally insignificant, and only had statues in, with no explanations or backstories; although that's hardly surprising, considering the tourguide we had - a miserable (and I MEAN SERIOUSLY MISERABLE), slouched, pre-pubescent, geeky, droning, little woman took us around within about 10 minutes, with the most carefree attitude I've ever seen... And when she actually DID say something, she said it in the most irritating voice; which see-sawed from suicidal emo, up to mickey mouse, and back down again; about every 6th word... In that sense, I'm glad the tour was short, because my GOD was she giving me a headache...
So we left, and made our way down The Mall, which on the map doesn't look TOO long... But my GOD... when it's up in the low to mid 90s, and you're making your way up there, it's liking trekking the Sahara... The thing I find crazy though, is that the locals were jogging past (although one old boy had his shirt SO drenched in sweat, that it looked as if he'd come straight outta the Atlantic...) and even playing a game of football in the heat (yet these dudes were all about 50, and of course were all Americans; thus terrible at the sport)... We, on the other hand, found it hard enough to just walk it, and so went in some museum, and Ford's theatre, for some American history lessons... Yaaaay... (sarcasm doesn't come through all too well on this, huh?...) So I found out that ol' Abe Lincoln was shot by a racist, above the stage of a comedy play... Naturally, as an ignorant Brit; I knew nothing of what any good presidents have done, (except for Bush Jr being a fat southern fascist, out to needlessly kill as many civilians as physically possible... But then again I said GOOD presidents, so he hardly counts), so I guess I learned something...
The day ended down at National Stadium (which for the record, is the nicest ballpark I've ever been to... Free wifi, leather seats, elevators to your seats, and internal corridors past all the lush boxes to get to your seats to make you feel a little more important... All very good features methinks...) where I got to see another good (albeit low scoring) ball game... They beat the cubs (although let's be honest; who DOESN'T beat the cubs???) 3-2, and I was forced to go against all my morals to actually cheer for Ryan Zimmerman *virtual spit on the floor*... With that all being said; the best part of the night by a LONG way, was the frankly GENIUS Presidents race, at the end of the 3rd inning... Now for those who are unfamiliar with the Nats;,they have 5 main mascots (meaning the fat old paedophiles, as apposed to the small children whom they prey upon): Screech the eagle - the main mascot, and then the four presidents - George Washington, Tom Jefferson, Abe Lincoln, and Teddy Roosevelt. Now all of these 4 presidents are in ridiculously large and hilarious costumes, and at the start of the 3rd inning in every home Nationals game, they have a race... Yes, you read me right (go on, go back a line, and check... It's really true!... Hell; you're on the computer at the moment - YouTube it... "Washington Nationals President Race" - you will NOT regret it...) - a full on 200 meter sprint race around the left side of the field, whilst in their TOTALLY impractical costumes... It is HILARIOUS... Now, I had my money on Abe, and of course he came through for me - pipping Tom on the line; but poor ol' Teddy Roosevelt had about a 10 second head-start, yet STILL didn't get his first win of the year... Still... 200m in 50 seconds isn't too bad for an obese, deceased American... No matter how awesome he is...
Thanks,
Kempo.
So off we went to Capitol building (yeah; they just let me into the American government building, just like that... I mean I really don't understand why Osama had such troubles...) and had a tour about the place... Now, I say "tour", but to be honest, I've had longer house tours than that - we went in a grand total of THREE; yes THREE, small, cramped rooms... All of these rooms were totally insignificant, and only had statues in, with no explanations or backstories; although that's hardly surprising, considering the tourguide we had - a miserable (and I MEAN SERIOUSLY MISERABLE), slouched, pre-pubescent, geeky, droning, little woman took us around within about 10 minutes, with the most carefree attitude I've ever seen... And when she actually DID say something, she said it in the most irritating voice; which see-sawed from suicidal emo, up to mickey mouse, and back down again; about every 6th word... In that sense, I'm glad the tour was short, because my GOD was she giving me a headache...
So we left, and made our way down The Mall, which on the map doesn't look TOO long... But my GOD... when it's up in the low to mid 90s, and you're making your way up there, it's liking trekking the Sahara... The thing I find crazy though, is that the locals were jogging past (although one old boy had his shirt SO drenched in sweat, that it looked as if he'd come straight outta the Atlantic...) and even playing a game of football in the heat (yet these dudes were all about 50, and of course were all Americans; thus terrible at the sport)... We, on the other hand, found it hard enough to just walk it, and so went in some museum, and Ford's theatre, for some American history lessons... Yaaaay... (sarcasm doesn't come through all too well on this, huh?...) So I found out that ol' Abe Lincoln was shot by a racist, above the stage of a comedy play... Naturally, as an ignorant Brit; I knew nothing of what any good presidents have done, (except for Bush Jr being a fat southern fascist, out to needlessly kill as many civilians as physically possible... But then again I said GOOD presidents, so he hardly counts), so I guess I learned something...
The day ended down at National Stadium (which for the record, is the nicest ballpark I've ever been to... Free wifi, leather seats, elevators to your seats, and internal corridors past all the lush boxes to get to your seats to make you feel a little more important... All very good features methinks...) where I got to see another good (albeit low scoring) ball game... They beat the cubs (although let's be honest; who DOESN'T beat the cubs???) 3-2, and I was forced to go against all my morals to actually cheer for Ryan Zimmerman *virtual spit on the floor*... With that all being said; the best part of the night by a LONG way, was the frankly GENIUS Presidents race, at the end of the 3rd inning... Now for those who are unfamiliar with the Nats;,they have 5 main mascots (meaning the fat old paedophiles, as apposed to the small children whom they prey upon): Screech the eagle - the main mascot, and then the four presidents - George Washington, Tom Jefferson, Abe Lincoln, and Teddy Roosevelt. Now all of these 4 presidents are in ridiculously large and hilarious costumes, and at the start of the 3rd inning in every home Nationals game, they have a race... Yes, you read me right (go on, go back a line, and check... It's really true!... Hell; you're on the computer at the moment - YouTube it... "Washington Nationals President Race" - you will NOT regret it...) - a full on 200 meter sprint race around the left side of the field, whilst in their TOTALLY impractical costumes... It is HILARIOUS... Now, I had my money on Abe, and of course he came through for me - pipping Tom on the line; but poor ol' Teddy Roosevelt had about a 10 second head-start, yet STILL didn't get his first win of the year... Still... 200m in 50 seconds isn't too bad for an obese, deceased American... No matter how awesome he is...
Thanks,
Kempo.
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