About that...

So, I know I promised to write more about my traveling experiences... and I did. I just did it on a separate blog, because it needed to be for more educational purposes, and my personal blog just did not cut it. here is the link:

http://moraineparkinternationaled.blogspot.com/

which should be able to take you to the posts about my summer adventures in Germany. It was really cool to have an Ipod on that trip, because I could take photos on that and make it so so much easier to upload right to my blog. However it was stolen, and that made it tougher to get things going as far as media on that blog... but to any interested, there is not that link that should make you able to learn a little bit about my most recent travel adventures. The Germans are currently here in America visiting, same group as we met a mere four thousand miles away. I went up to see them last night, and it was such a blast of a time. I hope to be going to Madison on Tuesday to visit them.

In other news, Badger and Monkey are now my roommates. Times are fun, hopefully they will stay that way. I have no reason to doubt that they will. The Game is in full swing once again, hiding cheerios in miscellaneous places whereas to make the victim find them and curse the gods of cheerios. Just good stuff you really couldn't get somewhere else....

Anyway, I must go now. Just wanted to finally get this out there.

Pre- Trip

So it has been a while.

I have been extremely busy this past semester, which is FINALLY coming to a close. The ending of this is marking a very big transitional stage in my life. I will be travelling to Europe once again, returning to the States, and then moving to Milwaukee. I is excited. Period.

So, the title is not about drugs, although I will be having a 17 hour layover in Amsterdam... It is about my pre-trip experience.This weekend I will be graduating, with my Associates Degree in Culinary Arts. Moraine Park has been a great home, I have met some very cool, and very fun people there, most of which I will not forget, and some I cannot wait to.

You know who you are.

In all cerealness, Sunday can not possibly come fast enough. Even though When it finally does come, I will probably be wishing that I had spent more time packing and less time blogging, sleeping, working...etc.

I do hope to be able to post more often now. I think that Milwaukee will provide me with a great plenty of new fun stories to tell. I will be rooming with a badger and a monkey. The awesomeness of that combination will not be able to be contained. Going to be insane.

And so here I am at 2:47 A.M., having the jitters as a result of he noxious combination of pre-travel nerves, over tiredness, and way way way too much caffeine. I literally can't wait to get back to Europe. I think that this trip will be spectacular. Also, I plan to post while there, rather than attempt to recollect my thoughts/ideas two weeks after the fact, when I am back home, and just reminiscing about my trip.

Glad to be graduating, glad to be moving, glad to be traveling. content meese are content.

Until next time,

Moose

Stressin

Stress sucks. These years are supposed to be the best part of my life, and instead I find myself waiting for them to get over. I want normalcy..

Which is ironic, in a way, because I am slowly realizing that no matter what I am doing, stress will always be there waiting. It will change masks, if you will, but stress in and of itself will always be there.

Thankfully, I opted out of a little extra stress I was making for myself by quitting my second job. I worked with them for about two weeks, and found out that there was no way I could juggle 19 credits, my main job at the restaurant, and being the president of the culinary club and succeed at all of them with keeping my mind. Plus the added stress caused by my favorite, you lovely ladies out there.

When I get married, new kinds of stress. New problems, new solutions. I know I will always come out on top though. I think that the best way lately I have found to deal is to just be confident. At the restaurant, when 20 tables are sat at once, I take a deep breath and just do it. And I almost always do everything well when I do that. At home I have found that I need to stop being the problem solver for everyone and jut let people live their own lives and make their own mistakes. Same goes for friends as well. I don't really know how people should go about their lives any more than I do about how to go about mine. I am always going to learn and grow. At school I have trouble displaying my confidence, because I fear that it will make me seem like an asshole. I know I CAN be an asshole when I want to be, but it's totally different than always being one because of how I am acting.

I don't know why I am truly writing this, but I need to explain to someone how I am feeling, and quite honestly, nobody is awake to call at this time of night. So I blog to vent. This has been my first official vent blog.

So to all of my friends out there who need to deal with stress, just be confident in your ability to do it, and it will get done.

Lazy Moose

So Fox warned me that if I couldn't keep up on twitter I would struggle to keep up to date on my blog. Of course, I accepted this challenge. Moose that do not accept challenges are held in disregard at the high council of moose. Often times this leads to exile. Lonely moose are irrational and often experience extreme mood swings.

I digress. But the point is, Fox was right! I started off great, blogging as often as I could. But then life picked up pace a little bit, and writing was placed on the back burner. I often times would be at work and hear something and be like "I should blog about that..."

But I didn't. I have been a lazy moose. This is my informally formal apology. I won't actually say I am sorry, I was doing other things, but in retrospect, I probably could have written blogs in some of my down time. I probably had great ideas too! But I cannot prove that, because i have the attention span of a sugar addicted chipmunk watching a manatee. Manatee's are like the sloths of the ocean. Just so you follow. Fun story: I did not know how to spell manatee until I wrote this blog.

Chipmunk: WOW! LOOK AT THAT MANATEE!!

Manatee: *doing something as if it were in slow motion, even though its probably at full speed* *its probably eating* *and its meal is probably something nearly as boring as the manatee* *but thats impossible, because unless it were eating a sloth nothing could be as boring as a manatee* *this has gone on way to far*

Chipmunk: WOW! THIS SUCKS! I'M GOING TO PISS OFF SOME CAMPERS BY GETTING JUST CLOSE ENOUGH TO LET THEM TOUCH ME AND THEN SCAMPER THE HELL AWAY EVEN THOUGH THEY AREN'T EVEN REMOTELY FRIGHTENING ME!!!!

Seriously chipmunks, just let me freaking pick your cute selves up. I wont eat you. I'll probably give you marshmallows.

In other words, I forgot my ideas to blog about.

BUT NO LONGER MY FRIENDS! I promise I will try to blog more often. I hope that some of you enjoy this as much as I do. It help me to jut get ideas written down. Makes my head less cluttered.

So heres an update:

I don't want to be a chef when I grow up. I want to be a psychologist. And that is great because then I can stay in school longer and stall growing up officially as much as possible.

I may own a restaurant somewhere down the road, but I don't want the headaches that come with doing so for the majority of my adult life, I want something better, and dammit, I'm going to take it.

I am going to finish culinary school as a personal quest to prove to myself that I can commit to doing something and finish it.

Wow, the went from light and gently humorous to like a new life motto. Didn't mean to do that to you.

That was just since my last blog post... so like... 2 months ago. It has been an interesting two months. I have to go to class now. I will write more later.

My Sisser.

The other day I was mowing the lawn. This is a task that I perform with "noncommittal abhorrence."

Meaning I loathe it with almost every fiber of my being, but I still do it out of fear of social repercussions that come if someone in the neighborhood does not cut their grass. Once someone (and in my block it is ALWAYS the same people) cuts the grass, they look around expectantly to their neighbors to see when they will follow suite. I think this eventually just turns into a repetitive pattern. But being the person that I am, I do not like these types of patterns. I feel like I should be able to choose when my lawn is cut, rather than the Jones's from house 3981 across the street. Often times I disobey the "schedule"...

This is not what I want to blog about, so I'm stopping there before it becomes a post about a guy blogging about something that he did not intentionally set out to blog about and throw any and every reader into a spiral of hateful spite towards me. I don't want to upset you in that way.

No, I was however mowing the lawn the other day and I was thinking about my childhood. It was fun, and made the task I was doing a little more bearable than it often is. I then realized that my twenty years on this earth were a gift, as there have been a plethora of times when I should have died. There are a few times when I had accidents that were of my own consequence, but that really was not what struck me. I am, of course, referring to my being murdered by my sister and/or brother.

There was the time when I was probably about five, and she was six. We were close in age, so we kind of grew up together. Firstly, we went into my brothers room when he wasn't home. He was like eleven at that time, and apparently there are top secret things that go on in eleven year olds room's. No matter, the point is, he forbade us to go in there.. so naturally we went in there. He probably would have better luck if he just left the door open and welcomed us in. What's the point in going in there, then. Secondly, we were jump-boxing. I don't know if that is actually a sport, it is no Dangerball, but it involved jumping on his bed and play punching at each other while jumping. This was smart. The details are a little fuzzy for me, as I cannot recall if we had been doing this for a while and then I punched her two top front teeth out, or if I simply didn't realize that we were only supposed to fake punch, but yeah, I did that. I think she was fine with it, as they were both loose anyway, but naturally, when someone gets a tooth punched out, they bleed. Not only do they bleed, but they scream. Imagine being a mother that is just upstairs while your two normally clam children play in the basement and then having your young daughter fly up the steps screaming and having blood run down her front. Probably pretty traumatic for her. Blood got on my brothers bedspread. I tried washing it with like water in a bucket, but that only made it painfully more obvious that someone had been in my brothers room that day, and that they had bled and tried to hide it. I am lucky my mom was home at the time he returned from school, or I am pretty sure he would have had my head.

Then there was the time that I caught the biggest fish of my life. We were up north with our neighbors, and were out on a boat with my mother. Normally we try to catch panfish, but suddenly, a huge fish of some sort jumped out of the water and tried to swallow my mom's bobber. So, me being impulsive, change out my normal fish hook and worm setup for a lure, and whip that pole behind my head and flung it. Would have been a great throw, but it never really made if off of the boat. It did, however, make it right into the top of my sister's skull. I am a good swimmer, but not sure how i would have done with her holding me under...

Best part of that story, actually, is when we finally got home, I guess it didn't really hurt anymore, so she naturally wanted it out, and she was yelling at my mom and our neighbors to just "rip it out" but none of us could do it, more out of fear for her than anything. So, after going to the hospital and waiting for a long time, we got a large man, who was our doctor in. He numbed her skull partly and that big man needed every ounce of strength in his muscles to push that hook through, clip the barb off, and then work it back out. I'm pretty sure if we had done that we would have hurt her terribly. Oh, and while at the Ashland hospital, we heard a conversation through the curtain that almost made me laugh aloud. Apparently there was a man there with some back pain. Apparently, when you fall off your roof it hurts your back. The part that made m laugh was when the patient was like, " Well, the last time I did this it was like an 8 (I assume looking at the pain rating chart), but this time it is like a seven and a half." You'd think that one might be slightly more cautious when up on a roof after they had fallen off once, but this man was a trooper. Anyway, point is, I am amazed my sister didn't drown me that day. She told me once that she was very close to at least pushing me in, but who knows.

So I found this post I made a few weeks ago but apparently forgot to publish... this actually not the one I wrote today, but you might be getting a double dose of postage today. And no... I am not going to pay for you to mail things.. I mean.. well.. you get it.

Dangerball. It is as legendary as it sounds.

I am sweating. Not from sex, mind you. No. The reason for this sweat is as a result of the most epic duel between a Badger and a Moose this world has or probably ever will see. This duel is Dangerball.

Dangerball can take place in any setting, indoors or outdoors. Time of day, race, sex, and or religious affiliation do not change the rules, or prevent any from playing. Irish people may be more apt at this game due to the amount of physical abuse they normally can take on. I am basing this solely on the antics I have witnessed in Boondock Saints.

So, obviously, you are now interested in playing your very own game of Dangerball. Here's how.

Step One. Strap on your big boy pants. This game is not for the weak.

Step Two. Locate a place in your house/yard that will be your arena. This place should have two flat(ish) surfaces that are to be used as your base. Neutral platforms may be added for an interesting twist.

Step Three. FIND A FUCKING EXERCISE BALL. I only had one, if any of you experiment with multiple sized/number of exercise ball(s) please let me know your results.

Step Four. Somewhere adjacent to your platforms, set up a "goal" This must be jut about the size of the exercise ball(s), and not easy to have them land in.

Step five. Place the exercise ball in the center of the two platforms, and take your platform. a race to the ball determines first possession.

You are now ready to play. Here is how to win.

A win may be achieved by scoring 21 points. Using the exercise ball to knock your opponent's ass off of his platform earns you a point. Obviously, you must be in control of the ball to do so. Gain control of the ball by catching it. If you catch it, you earn a point. Alternatively, if you dodge COMPLETELY, you also earn a point. You may pin the ball to gain control of it, but no points are awarded.

The game automatically ends if and when:

1.) an opponent yields in pain, exhaustion, or due to the need to change their drawers from laughing so much.

2.) whenever the ball enters the goal after ricocheting off of your opponents body. This also awards you 10 points. Much like Quidditch, when the Snitch is caught, the game ends, but it does not necessarily declare you the winner. If you are behind by more than ten, you do not want to score the goal.

Obviously, if you die, the game is also over. Try not to die.

Bases. These are important. Taking over the opponents base may be done while the opponent is occupying a neutral platform. However, if your opponent takes control of your base while you are moving to occupy his base, he occupies your base. If, however you reach you opponents base while he/she is occupying a neutral zone, that player forfeits his base. He must now stay upon that neutral platform until game end. Your opponent may now go from base to base as he pleases, and shots can be taken at any time.

This game was invented by Badger and Moose, June 28 2010 at 1:45 A.M. Please, unlike all those lame TV game show games, TRY THIS AT HOME.

Clubbing

I cannot truthfully say this for sure due to my age, but I believe that clubbing is extremely different in Europe, more specifically Germany, than it is in the States.

For example, in the States, it is my general opinion that girls go there to dance, and guys go there to (try to) get girls. Girls stand in a small circle of her friends, sometimes surrounding their personal belongings and shoes, and they dance. Guys spend the rest of their night trying to find a way "in" that circle. Not literally. Just maybe right behind. Ha. But it is difficult to do this. Again, I have never actually been to a "real" American club. The one I have been to was one of maybe 7 in Wisconsin that allow people under 21 in. Obviously they cannot drink, but they can go about doing the aforementioned activities. Actually I just remembered that in this particular club there were like 6 or 7 guys that could dance. Like really well... so the roles were kind of reversed. Was interesting to see all the girls I went with trying their best moves to get the guys attention.. anyway I digress.

Germany's clubs, at least the two I got to see, are more about having a fucking good time. For everyone. There were like 4 or 5 different dance floors at the one in Berlin.. all playing different music. So for the people who didn't want to bleed from the ears to heavy techno could go all the way across the club and hear all of the latest rap and R&B, passing by the karaoke area and folk song/stripper rooms. No, they weren't really strippers, I guess. They wouldn't accept money at any rate, like more of a professional dancer. I must admit, there is something fun and yet frightening about having a half naked woman pour Jagermeister down your throat. MY favorite ares was the folk songs area. In both clubs... there was a floor and several bars devoted to songs that everyone (except me) knew the lyrics to. So I'd be out on the floor with a bunch of people I did not necessarily know, shouting "YA"! when they did as we all drank excessively. It was fantastic. I don't know what most of the words were, but they made everyone else happy as hell, and so I was also happy.

I did not party EVERY night, but I did go out three times. I had a blast every time. Except maybe the end of the last night in Berlin, when I had to act as a shepherd for a whole herd of drunken and disgruntled people and get them back home safe at 6 in the morning. Yes. I partied right through the night and came out of the club with the sun in my eyes. I scratched that one off my bucket list. I have never actually seen that movie, but I think that I have the concept right. Even the fact that a member of our group peed right in the middle of the street in the rising daylight cannot make me feel less proud of myself for that.