Moon Over Munich

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Moon Over Munich

I stole the title of this blog from the Dead Kennedys song Moon Over Marin. It's a fairly good song, one of Bob's favorites, check out the lyrics before you check the song.

This blog is written under extreme stress on my train ride to Vienna. I’ve quit taking a dump on trains. The last two times I tried to crap on the train the train has swerved mid log drop and the log hit my butt cheek, making wiping twice the process and extremely time consuming (I have Harry and the Henderson’s quantity of butt hair). The guy who checks our tickets just informed us that we were sitting in the wrong seat class (somehow when you have first class tickets, you can only sit in first class. You aren’t even allowed to slum with the poor people, it’s against the rules) and made us move. Angered by this because we had just set up snacks and the movie “Twilight” on the laptop, we had to pack our shit up and move to first class. Fucking ridiculous. I left our large mummy sarcophagus bag in the hallway so every time he walks by, he has to smoosh himself against the wall to get back to his food and drink storage area. Though it brings me pleasure to watch his day go down the toilet, I am still not satisfied, so I am now considering crapping in his work area , while he’s serving the business class folks. Am I worried about getting caught, not really, but do I have the courage and confidence to squeeze him out a little brown corn log of smelly goodness?

The Kids Are Alright

The kids in Munich are hilarious. This is the first place I’ve seen kids dress like little punk rockers and they all have their faces multi pierced. If you walked by some of these kids with a high powered magnet, you’d have a bunch of kids with no lips, eyebrows, nostrils and only chunks of ear cartilage. Thought I believe piercing is a sacred form of personal expression. It’s funny to me to see the level it’s taken to here.

The train to Munich was somewhat of a cheesy/Disney fairytale land. The land was covered with rolling green hills and fields, small houses with the smoke coming out of their chimneys, snow covered mountains and trees and blue puffy cloud skies. I felt like dropping acid, then my pants and running across the countryside singing the Smurf Theme Song. I may still be suffering side effects from the Magical Mexican Mushrooms. The train ride to Munich also has a lovely view of about a thousand cemeteries. I don’t know if it’s because of all the World Wars or if the Germans don’t cremate, but they’re running out of room. There’s also a perfect mellow sun here. You know how in Vegas the sun is too bright or in Canada the sun burns because you’re closer to it, well here, the sun is just perfect. It almost massages your skin. Unfortunately, the sun in Germany is like a deadbeat dad, you only see once and a while and it never sticks around.

Munich is located in Bavaria, or Germany used to be Bavaria, but now it’s Germany and still called Bavaria? I don’t really know and wikipedia wasn’t much help unless I had 4 hours and the patience to sit still that long. If someone offered me a million dollars to sit in a chair for 24 hours, I’d be that 60 year old guy at the bar drunk telling stories about how I was almost a millionaire. Anyways, if I refer to Munich as Bavaria, you know why, I’m just as confused as you.

Broken Down

My body is officially falling apart. I’ve got blisters on my toes, and my heels are in agonizing pain even when I take the pressure off them. My ears and face are clogged with snot and I feel like I have the back of an 80 year old Boston fisherman. Nancy Regan probably has more feeling in her wrists than I do and now my groin muscle has caught on fire. Don’t forget that I have two different sized knees. The right one looks like a normal knee and the left on looks like a grapefruit. My memory and will to live may also be suffering, I just realized the Haribro Gummie Bear Factory may have been in Munich and I forgot to check up on it online. These are all sure fire signs that my principles and health all caught a flight back to California somewhere around Thanksgiving.

I am happy to announce the Monopoly Game is back at McDonalds, which fucking rules because I love McDonalds in Europe and it’s easy to convince Tara to go, because she lives on McFlurrys. When a significant person in Tara’s life dies, it’s going to be easy to tell her the bad news. I’ll just take her to McDonalds, buy her a McFlurry and watch her smile and shed no tears as I tell her Aunt Gracie is dead. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing because Aunt Gracie is evil and we need more soldiers in hell for when we storm heaven.

Speaking of Christians. In the bible there are references to people of those days using the toilet outside in the streets and in nature and that people shouldn’t be denied the fruits of nature. In also makes reference that man shouldn’t lay with man. Now why the fuck is it that Christians will protest homosexuality, but they won’t protest European pay toilets and laws that prohibit people from peeing without using up all their children’s college fund money? I wish the god squad would refocus their priorities.

Guys who wear short sleeved muscle t-shirts and scarves at the same time, indoors, can shampoo each of my ass hairs individually. These are the people responsible for the 24-7 Euro Techno Music that is found everywhere in Munich from McDonalds, to every bar, restaurant, pharmacy, market, hostel, hotel lobby, elevator and the inside of a pay toilet (I fucking hate pay toilets). The only place you won’t find techno is in the subway, which makes me kind of feel weird. See Tara and I both remember reading that during the holocaust, the Nazis used to play classical music on the trains and in the hallways leading to the showers, to keep the Jewish people that were about to die, calm. I found it strange that they play the same tunes in the subways in Munich. Not very sensitive and some what eerie. Another strange thing about the subway is that you have to buy a subway ticket for your dog and two tickets for a baby in a stroller. One ticket for the baby and one for the stroller. I like this because I hate baby strollers in the subway. They take up to much space, especially those tank sized fucking strollers and the babies cry while you’re on the train. Another hip thing all the kids do whether you’re 8 years old or 18 is to walk around with your cell phone playing music like a boom box. I have a soft spot in my heart for Radio Raheem and the boom box crews of the 80s and early 90s. To have a boom box was like your calling card or announcing your incoming presence to an area. It often defined who you were and what you were about. Now it seems like its jerk kid playing the Jonas Brothers while their crew walks endlessly around town annoying people. Man I sound like a grumpy old man remembering old times. I can’t wait till I’m 75, sitting on my porch in my rocking chair, while it’s raining, living across the street from the high school, paying the neighbor boy $20 bucks to pull the schools fire alarm.

My last night in Munich was a hit and miss. Tara and I attended the free Bavarian Beer tasting in our hostel. It would have been a great time, but being the boozehound that I am, somehow I had already consumed all the beers that gave us to try the night before. I’d like to say I’m not an alcoholic, but if the shoe fits, wear it, or drink wine out of it. I also noticed that when it comes to booze, Americans aren’t known for shit. Germans have lager and Jagermeister, the Scots Scotch, the Irish have whiskey, the Mexicans tequila, hell even the Austrians have schnapps, but what the hell does the states have? And don’t tell me Jack Daniels and Budweiser cause I will puke. I guess you could make the case for 40oz styled bottles of beer, but I’m sure malt liquor came over on the Mayflower, along with intolerance and smallpox. We ended the night breaking boards from the bed. We're rock stars, it's what we do.

The Christmas Market Compromise (Brian’s Guide to Understanding)

Girls like to shop. Guys don’t like to shop with their ladies, unless they’re shopping for an item or outfit they plan on ripping off their significant other in the thralls of drunken passion or role play. The Christmas Market Compromise is a great deal for us where both sides win. The girls get to go Christmas shopping and the guys get a lot of, “me” time where they get drunk on hotwine and check out other girls that they’ll never see again and therefore cannot be considered a threat. She really can’t complain about you not paying attention to her, because she’s not paying attention to you and she’s usually too busy deciding between the Christmas ornament of Santa riding pickle or the gingerbread man that’s perfect for her someone else’s Christmas tree. Sure you get the occasional, “what do you think of this one?” question, but by the time that starts, you’re drunk, horny and you’ll say anything to get out of there, in other words, always choose the cheap one or the one on the left.

And finally…..

Fuck All of You

Tara was doing a fine job of not purchasing nick knacks and crap, but ever since the Christmas markets she has slowly been buying all of you assholes presents and I just don’t mean her friends specifically. She’s getting her friends, our friends and my friends shit. Her proclamation of, “they’re just small gifts,” has been wearing thin since she’s now begining to buy a million small things and that shit adds up to heavy luggage. In most cases, it’s my fault for introducing her to the Christmas markets in the first place. Let that be a lesson to the rest of you chumps like me, if you’re a nice guy, you end up carrying around 80lbs of luggage and getting arthritis so bad it ruins all chances of my becoming a professional masturbator. With that said, merry early Christmas, and I love most of you.

Merry Christmas Jerks, See You In Vienna

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Photos

My long lost brother
My parents rejected him because he was different.

Munich Sunset
I feel pretty, oh so pretty

Falalalal lalalalala
Happy Christmas everybody!

Castle Waterfall
Gotta pee, gotta pee, long walk back to bathroom, gotta pee

Bottle Cap Poster
Look closely, you'll see the Sierra Nevada Pale Ale cap

We Try Everything
I have my doubts that this was the legitimate way to drink these.

Moon Over Munich
it's tough to think this place was the birthplace of the Nazi regime.

Photo 2
Castles, christmas tree, ok, moving on to the next city....