I’m still going to post this picture. And I’m still gonna laugh.

Big Tex:

I’ve got my vaseline (to rub under my armpits and in between my legs). I’ve got my band-aids (to tape up my nipples). I’ve got my pound of bananas (the miracle food). I’ve got my liquified carbohydrates (they are supposed to taste like “tropical fruit”. They taste more like liquid carbohydrates). The Berlin Marathon is upon us boys and girls… I can smell its mustiness from here. 9 AM start, Sunday morning, and I’ll be in line to hear the gun go off.

Shout to my Freshman roomate Brian. He’s getting married to the beautiful Christie. Congratulations y’all! Here’s to you! I’m sorry to have to miss the big day man. Damn oceans. Have a great celebration and tell the bridesmaids (and any sisters) I said hey!

Three weeks lost in the wilderness of Eastern Europe will hopefully pose as a decent excuse for my recent absences. Email replies are forthcoming in short. Sorry for my concommunicativeness as of late but I think I spent a total of about 2 hours in front of a computer during the travels.

1 Rowboat

2 airmatresses

3 beautiful girls

5 meters of rope

20 beers

OK Macgyver, what do you do with such an ensemble? I think the answer is rather obvious: turn it into the good life…

Decrepit. Ignored. It’s reverent majesty still demanded respect. Walking through the narrow cobblestoned streets of Vilnius, we spotted the steeple of an 18th century church towering over a weed infested parking lot. Its off-the-beaten-path nature lured us in.

Wedding ceremonies everywhere. If you’re planning on visiting Vilnius on a Friday or Saturday afternoon hoping to take a tour through its overwhelming collection of imposing churches, forget it. Weddings are going on one after the other. Throughout the entire city. If, on the other hand, you are planning a visit to Vilnius on a Friday or Saturday hoping to meet a very attractive bridesmaid suffering through that post-marital bliss/lonesomeness (you know who you are), you’ll be happier than a pig in dirt.

Never, ever, ever(!) try to ride public transportation in Vilnius, Lithuania without a ticket. Actually, let’s take things a step farther: don’t even try riding public transportation WITH a ticket. You might be in the right; you might be in the wrong; but in the end you will only lose. This piece of information will probably prove to be as useful to you as the common “Red on yellow, kill a fellow/red on black, friend of Jack” school rhyme (there’s a junk of the brain that’s just screaming “waste of space!”) but I figured I’d throw it out there to all you would-be adventurers out there regardless.

Today is the first day of football season.

I was already celebrating its arrival on top of the Palacy Kultury in Warsaw-y.

Within 12 hours of arriving in Warsaw, I’d already consumed over 25 Pierogi: a number any man (and his mother) should be proud of. While in Warsaw, pierogi was the only meal I’d ordered, and while the Law of Sleep would hamper me in my conquests for the mythical 50 pierogi in 24 hours level, I still like to think I made a pretty solid dent in the national Polish pierogi stockholds.

“Do you mean you honestly can’t smell that”?

My nose was clogged and my dreams were twisted as our British roomate properly reprimanded Jeff for closing the window to our dorm room in Danzig during an early morning’s traffic jam. British politeness can be such a comical pain sometimes.

The events in the past two days reconfirmed my already steady banks of knowledge concerning anything involving Oklahoma and the subject of cheating. I gotta admit… when I first read the article on Bomar’s dismissal from the OU football team, I had one, big, shit eating grin on my face.

Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!

Ohh you frothy sip of goodness you, I’m sorry I left you. It’s been a complete week since we last saw each other and I’ve thought about you every second of every day since then. I want little more than to touch you, to feel your cool insides warming my body—I sit alone at nights and dream of grabbing you and pulling you close to me and tasting your sweetness against my lips. Soon it will all be over. I’m sorry I left you. It wasn’t you, it was me. We will see each other again soon though… tonite maybe. Until then, just know that I’m thinking of you…

I finally made it down to Würzburg last weekend. I’ve been meaning to visit the Fränkish town for years: ever since I heard my German Professor from the University talk about a “gemütlich” Beergarden sitting along the river my interests had been piqued. While a visit to a Beergarden is as commendable reason as any to visit a city, as far as I’m concerned, there happened to be a slightly larger draw pulling me towards the town. And in Würzburg’s case, it wasn’t the two wine fests that were intoxicating the hills surrounding the city at the time, nor was it the beautiful Tiepolo fresco adorning the Palace ceiling, though worthy features in their own right. This time it was a girl named Sonja.