Toilets and Beer

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“Dear Diary”

Quotes of the Day in Order of Sweetness

1. “Stand still! Do you know how hard it is to lick your ass on one foot while trying to put on a shoe?”

2. “I’ll be on the toilet drinking a beer.” (30 minutes later, Tara opens the the bathroom door) “And watching Scrubs on your ipod.”

3. “Your tit’s leaking.”

Behind the Ireland numbers of this entry

Time I’ve made double in my pants: 3
Gangsta wall references: 37
Times I drank squid oil: 0
Times I’ve pretended to listen to Tara while staring at her boobs: 64
Time I should’ve listened to Tara while staring at her boobs: 1
Times I locked us out of our house because I didn’t listen to Tara tell me she didn’t have the keys because I was staring at her boobs: 1
Pushups, Crunches and squats I did today: 30 each
Times I couldn’t perform sexually because I was too scared the internet guy was going to show up from 1pm-6pm, and didn’t want blue balls: 9
Days it takes to dry clothes you washed in the sink without a dryer, heat, or sunlight: 3 and counting

“Oh Yeah, I Will Murder You”

Tara and I drove into Galway with a mission. Unlike John McCain the crippley old bastard and fuck face Palin, yeah she’s a cunt. She’s dumb, she’s corrupt, she’s a liar and she’s a fucking dictator with a bad accent. If you need more info, email me or check out this website; www.getafuckingclue.com if that website doesn’t exist, I’ll give you plenty of facts and info for you to start one. As I was so saying, unlike John McCain and fuck face, me and Tara actually had a plan when we got to a foreign place; find a bed, find food, find a place to pee and pooh (well pooh for me, Tara doesn’t pooh. Shelly is the only girl I know who poohs and it smells like roses), and find some booze.

We arrived at our B and B, after a few driver/navigator switches. Tara is by far the better driver and I am by far the better navigator, from the view of an outside perspective. From my perspective I am faster, more alert, and I look cooler driving left-handed stick shift. I am also better with maps and get full directions when I ask someone. My only one true fault is that I jump and yell in a frantic and aggressive manner when I’m navigator, putting us, the car, children playing in the street and roadside wildlife in danger. The only solutions I can come up with are ditching the car and blow it up. I will give Tara credit she did get us around Ireland without either of us dying or bleeding. She also found us a sweet ride that didn’t catch fire or explode. Though I have to say one negative thing. Before we left for Galway, I told her that I wanted to go to the Aqua dome Indoor Water Park. I still believe to this day that she knowingly knew where this H20 heaven existed and took advantage of my piss poor short-term memory by not reminding me that I wanted to go there until we got close to Galway and far far far away from the water park.

We arrived at our bread and breakfast close to sunset. I would like to take this time to stress how stupid a bed and breakfast is. First of all, I don’t like breakfast anymore. Bacon used to be my favorite food (it’s now med rare steaks cooked on an indoor living grill with blue cheese crumbles on top) but really, breakfast is fattening and over rated. It’s simple and boring. They should have Bed and Dinners. That’s right, tuck me in at night and right before you do that, feed me some lamb with gravy or a fat juicy steak that moos when I bite into it.

The Quietest Sex Ever

Disclaimer: If you are related to Tara, sickened by talk about us naked doing adult things or you are one of two people responsible for creating her, please do not read ahead.

Basically right now my brother; Chris Ganz and Wyatt are the only ones reading this.

I had the quietest sex in the world today. Wait, ala Fight Club style, let me go back to the beginning;

Tara and I checked into a bed and breakfast(uuuhhh) and met the sweetest lady on earth named Sarah. Sarah is the house host lady who runs’s the b and b and she is the nicest lady on earth. She’s the type of mom who you show up 23 years old, strung out on heroin, needle sticking out of your arm, covered in blood, body in the trunk of your car, naked with a hard on and she’d start digging a hole in the backyard, fixing you a bath and working on your alibi. She’s super mom. And over the next 3 days she’d be me and Tara’s supermom.

Now Sarah lives down stairs and there’s 3 other couples with me and Tara upstairs. If I fart in my sleep, everyone in the house hears it. I needs my lovin though. What is one to do? Tara and me pulled off the most successful silent sex of all time. We could have been sharing a sleeping bag n a tent with all of our respective families and no one would have noticed. The real point of all this though, is the mental list I have begun creating of where we can try this is taking up %98 of my semantic memory. I can’t even remember my old Chico address anymore.

On a side note, have you ever had sex where after you finished, you feel like you may have lost part of your brain matter in your post sex matter? Are we losing some part of our brains each time we have sex? Is that part of the brain we lose travel through them and become part of their brain? Are we making them smarter? Are we fucking ourselves into stupidity and extinction? It’s something to think about fellas.

Our first night in Galway we saw a beach sunset, a shit tons of swans and drank a bit of booze while eating turkey, potatoes smothered in gravy. There has to be ecstasy in the food here. There’s no other way. We watched some Irish music and then lost our way home to the b and b. Night number one, successful in our new home. I’m starting to like it here.

We spent the next few days trying to make friends, find jobs and a home. Which brings us to….

Home Crap Home

Me and Tara found a new home here in Ireland. To put it bluntly, our home is a shit box. Our house is basically the size of a hollowed out Hummer with an extra trunk. Actually, now that I think about it more, you could probably park a hummer in here, but you could only open the doors on one side. You can, pooh, shower, do the dishes, and cook chicken on the stove all at the same time, which is every good housewife’s dream. Unfortunately, as the job hunt continues it looks like I’m more likely to end up the housewife. I have decorated the walls and carpet with spider guts. I killed a spider the other day that was the size of my shoe. He caught my shoe and turned it on me, we shoe dueled like swordsman, before Tara finally squashed him with a frying pan. We also had a mouse, that on day one I unknowingly captured in a garbage bag. Thinking the mouse ran away and I wanted to sleep, I shoved the garbage bag into the oven to prevent him digging again and ruining my oh so precious beauty sleep. The next day I took the trash out, minus the mouse. Tara cooked dinner that night and for some reason the circuit breaker kept tripping when she tried to use the stove. Come to find out several days later when the electrician showed up, Mr. Jingles the mouse had been chewing on wires in the oven when Tara turned it on and zap-O, the mousey went to creepy animal heaven, where all rats, spiders, scorpions and possums go when they die. You can’t make that shit up. Speaking of electricity, our house is so old that we don’t have a power bill or power company. Instead we have this power box above the front door. We have to put Euro coins in the box to keep the power on, it’s pretty ridiculous, especially seeing as I can barely remember to wipe my own ass, let alone fill a machine with coins every couple of days to keep the power on. We also sleep on a blow up mattress, which is pretty savage. It’s like we’re camping every night and it makes a cool noise when a fart reflects off of it.

We live at 54 College Road in Galway. The obvious thing to do is name the house Studio 54 after the famous New York City disco in the late 70s. Except with no drugs, hopefully no STDs and our landlord doesn’t ask us to blow him….yet We also considered Area 54 (area 51 rip off) and Car 54 Where are You? Which would have been rad, but no one would understand the joke and it doesn’t have a house sound to it.

Me and Tara living together has to no surprise been easy. I do the dishes and she does the laundry. The only bad thing is that when I pee on the floor when I’m drunk or have sex dick she makes me clean it up. I don’t mean Olivedome clean it up, where you ignore it and don’t clean it, I mean I have to use cleaning products on it, scrub it, wipe it and dry it. You think she’s performing surgery in there later in the day.

New Flash, I like Irish Food. Today I had peppercorn sauced steak with French fries. I licked my plate clean. Clean I tell you. They didn’t even need to wash it. They could’ve rolled up a fork, spoon, and knife in a napkin and laid it next to my plate and the next customer wouldn’t have known the plate was just eaten off. I felt like a dog. A happy, full, dog.

My toe nails are turning black. But that’s a talk for another day.

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Photos

Swan Song
$50 says this is A.F.I.'s next album cover

Euro trash
German tourists pose #21

Me and Tara
I like me, and Tara

Stuck
I swear i never saw the dead end sign before i drove down the alleyway

Parallel Parking
Nailed it on the first try bitches. That shit is DMV perfect!

Door
Dis be me house and me penis.

Forced Photography
Red brick walls make cleaning up after domestic violence a breeze!

Comments

[Ganz]

Awesome! Specially that swan pictured...laughed my ass off at the caption.