Friends, friends and more friends

I haven't been keeping up with the blog as I've been busy entertaining. The Kept man and I have been lucky enough to have company for going on two weeks now. Pez made his appearance last Saturday and his partner in crime Payne showed up this past Friday. But last Friday my girlfriend, let's just call her T came for a long weekend. It's amazing how quickly time flies when you have people around and it's not in a good way. I thought about taking passports while they were sleeping or claiming that boo ate them but unless we enter a world of polygamy our visa just won't cover them. Anyway, we are fortunate for one more week before our next guests arrive on my B-day.

Mr. Pick n Sniff

Dear 17B

First off, I have to admit that I have a REAL problem with self-cannibalization. And for those of you out there with this uber-gross, habit- please stop immediately, at least in public anyway. I don’t care what you do in private but no one else wants to see you picking things off your body.

So, thank you 17B, you’ve driven me to this blog. I’m on my return flight home (BA 677) from Istanbul to London, Heathrow and I change to what I think is going to be my stress free upgrade to space. It’s an open seat with no one on either side of me and it’s nice. That is however, until you, 17B start an assault on your face. So listen up 17B when your arm is shaking and your fingers are turning red because your squeezing too hard, IT’S NOT COMING OUT, whatever it is. And as if the three 1/2 hour long attack wasn’t disgusting enough, the smelling of the fingers after you’ve caught your trophy is. And don’t tell me that you don’t know what you’re doing because the looking over your shoulder to see if anyone is watching is a sure sign of guilt. So, next time you get the urge, go to the bathroom - do not pass go, do not collect $200, don’t pick it, don’t sniff it, don’t roll it between your fingers and cast it to the floor, just go!

Signed,

17F

P.S. Next time use the wet wipe BEFORE you consume your meal because I know where your hands have been. Didn’t your mama teach you anything?

In a land of Shawarma, I was falafel.

In a country where one + one somehow equals three; where do I even begin?

Ok, so there’s a German guy, a French guy and a Turkish Guy and they all walk up to the gates of the E.U. The German guy knocks on the gate and says “I want to join the E.U.” The E.U. replies “First you must tell me where the first atomic bomb was dropped.” The German replies “Hiroshima” and in he goes. The French guy goes next and says “I wanna join the E.U.” The E.U. replies “First you must tell me what year the atomic bomb was dropped.” The Frenchman replies “1945” and in he goes. The Turkish man walks up and says “Me too”. So the E.U. looks and says “Tell me all the names of the people that died in Hiroshima in alphabetical order.”

Seriously though, are they bitter? I don’t think so, 75 million people and an average education level somewhere around less than high school (They have entire cities that provide no education at all) and they are some of the nicest people I’ve met. There is Asian Istanbul and European Istanbul and combined they are some 14 million people in a city that appears to be the size of a small state. I am somehow convinced that Istanbul is the size of Rhode Island and it very well could be due to the fact that it has a sea in the middle of it.

I guess I should have known that it was going to be some kind of experience when I was waiting in line for passport control and I heard this horrific, blood curdling, groan that carried through the airport. As I turned around, there was a Middle Eastern man, head tilted, stiff as a board in what appeared to be a full epileptic seizure, while one person stood there and watched. After what seemed like a fortnight (that’s fourteen days) a British woman in line finally screamed “Someone call a Doctor!!! And after nothing screamed again for someone to call a doctor. No response so she screams "It’s an American!” Ok, so I get that we are a HUGE melting pot, but American??? Uh-yeah, the turbin and dark skin alone might have made that a little less obvious. As the entire line in passport control turns to look at said woman, she shrugs her shoulders and turns back to her friend.

The Grand Bazaar/market is a blog in itself and to say that it’s over whelming is an understatement. It could easily take you several days to go through it all and even at that, you may miss a lot. I have to admit, I’m starting to develop a complex. I’ve been told I have “big feet” in Portugal, you know, not like the “elegant feet that Portuguese women have”. Something similar just happened in France and what now might be my favorite is today I was asked if I was from Germany and when I responded “no America”, I got looked up and down and then after a shrug and a look received a response something like…”hmmmm, different ”. Different? Yes, Turkey, I’m sorry to disappoint but not all Americans have walked off the set of BayWatch. I even caught another guy taking a picture of the back of my head when I was in a shop and when I turned around as I heard the “click” he quickly looked down as if there was something so much more interesting about the floor.

Because Turkey is notorious for their driving, I opted out from that adventure. Yes, I know, I didn’t choose to drive but for those of you out there who think I am an aggressive driver…I say this to you “Be my guest and visit Turkey”. Don’t be picky as they all drive the same, a hundred in a 30 zone and if there are two lanes there will be three or four cars wide. They stop when their bumper touches the car in front of them and no car is void of damage. So given that my customers address states Istanbul, I thought this would be a better option. Little did I realize my point above in that Istanbul’s span is the size of the Atlantic Ocean. So, ten fingers and three pumps = 30 minutes. 60 some minutes later, six stops for directions and one wrong turn, more thumbs up than I can count and who knows how many “yes/ok” and I finally show up on the doorstep of my customer. Are we still in Turkey, I ask? After about 5 minutes of confusion my customer appears and clears the situation. Attend meeting and 60 minutes later my customers says “You’re taxi is still waiting, you need to hurry”. Waiting??? As in, meter running, waiting?? 60 minutes later, waiting??? Holy S*@T!!

Oh, yes and it was Ramadan, a Muslim holiday lasting a month every year that begins two weeks earlier than the previous year. What does this mean and how does it affect me you ask? They don’t eat from sunrise to sunset. After not eating all day, flying, driving and sailing to see my customer, my stomach could have used a saltine prior to sunset. And for the record, not only do they not eat but they don’t partake of any temptations, sins, nothing for a month. They attend their mosque five times daily, no food, smoking, alcohol, “relations” and anything else that might fall under the wild side.

Beat, me, whip me, hurt me.....Do your worst - I say

On Friday I fly to Budapest but not before tonight in Poland and tomorrow in Berlin, Germany. Oh, the places I'll see.......
Anyways, Budapest...yes, the city of healing waters and more spas than anywhere in the world. I simply can't wait. I've been pushed, pulled and dragged to levels of my career that I wasn't expecting and it's done some damage people. My shoulders and back scream at me every day and remind me constantly that they are there and not happy at all. I believe I have aged about 30 years in the last three months. So in hopes of cleaning house I am looking forward to those healing waters and what hopes to be the best pair of hands possible in Hungary to beat me to a pulp. And to follow that up a tiny tube of Tiger Balm from one of my favorite people.

Fakely speaking folks, they get straight to the point.

Ok, just a quick blog-worthy blip. Apparently the fasion du jour in Szczecin, Poland is filing your South side acrylics to a vampire-esque point.

Expect to see something like this on the up and coming run ways.