The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘amsterdam’

Attn: Ellen (10/9/13)



Back (apologies for my handwriting!)


The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

What do you think this girl’s report card would have said? My guess is something like:

“She is a bright, attentive student.

Her morose omnipresence is off-putting for other students though.

Please inform your daughter to quit carrying a feather everywhere – it’s just weird.”

Let me know what you think, eh?


Why am I doing this?

Attn: Ellen (5/2/12)


Back (apologies for my handwriting!)

The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

This is the famous scene where Joe finally found out about birth control.

Joe, crushed, said with exasperation, “but it’s the only thing I’m good at! … well that and pulling off this red sash.”


P.S. I guess I should explain when I first saw this painting I pretended red sash guy was saying “look what I made!” and gesturing to the room.

Why am I sending these postcards?

Ignorant Readings of Books I Bought in Europe

And longest post title of the week award goes to …

Here’s the vid. Full of a bad southern accent (my go to “dumb guy” voice). Sorry, South.

Oh yeah and I don’t have anything against UT … I just thought “why not?” for that being the t-shirt I wore. I’ll go and buy this shirt for my next southern guy video (if I’m not lazy …):

Attn: Ellen (10/19/11)


Back (apologies for my handwriting!)

The text of the postcard is:

Dear Ellen,

I was walking through Amsterdam and I thought, ‘boy!, Europeans sure are friendly!’ Then someone said, “it’s the Red Light District.”

I should’ve known. Light salespeople (they probably sell lamps too). Salespeople are always friendly.


P.S. I bought 7 new lamps!

International Language of Dumb



*That’s a children’s book – and I was at Copenhagen University. So it’s funny, see?

Full Bags and Brains

What a trip! What an adventure! When I get home I’m going to pull up Skype and talk to my rents. It’ll be nice. I think I may go ahead and record the stories I tell, so that when people at work come up to me (one at a time, mind you) and say, “how was the trip!?,” I can just play the recording.

Wait, why am I preemptively angry about this? I should still be in a chocolate-filled, booze-filled, you’re-so-pretty-it-hurts-me-and-makes-me-wish-I-had-better-than-20-20-vision-filled daze!

I am excited about the gifts I bought for my family.

For my brother – a post-it note with a drawing I did of me in front of a wall
For my sister – a packet of ketchup from Germany that says “ketchup” (they have the same word for ketchup! How zany is that!)
For my mom – a list of names that would be cooler than mine (Thor, AppleSauce, Lean Geraldine, etc)
For my dad – a shoe (unknown size, presumed female shoe based on the heel and pink polka dots)

The best part of the gifts is that I got/made all of them when I was really drunk.

Home of the Free, and the Rave

I really wish I had thought of this title back when I was in Amsterdam. How perfect!

Today we are going around asking people if their windmill is running, and then we’re going to say “well you better go catch it!!” After seven tries we’ve discovered not nearly as many people own windmills as we’d first suspected.

Seeing some guy in his 50s/60s, with nice silver fox hair, and a rich guy sweater (you know, it looks very plain but the fabric is insanely nice) – you’d think he’d be BOUND to own at LEAST one windmill, right? Wrong. I know, it feels wrong to even say wrong.

Actually. Wait. I bet Germany is just full of liars. I can picture it now.

“Yah. Zee tourists aw hee-awh.”
“Oh? Mine gootness. Letz play a joke on zem, yah?”
“Oh. Yah! How goot, mine friend!”

I can’t wait to leave!!

Oooh, a chocolate shop! How adorable!

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