Life is still good

So… even after the US’ sad exit at the World Cup, I’m still having a great time here in Munich. I neglected to mention that we (Bryan, Rick, Vroni, Kathi and I) all visited the real Hofbräuhaus and had some drinks and some good German eats. I think the Hofbräuhaus can be a bit overwhelming for the first-time visitor and it is definitely more so during the World Cup. Our first table was next to some obnoxious Mexican fans so when the opportunity presented itself, we moved to a table next to some boisterous and thoroughly enjoyable English fans. What’s the difference between obnoxious and boisterous? The fact that I hate Mexico and I like England, that’s what.

Since Ricky’s departure, Bryan and I have spent a great deal of time at cafes and beer gardens watching the rest of the World Cup unfold. We watched Argentina defeat Mexico (much to my great amusement) at the FanFest; we watched Germany defeat Sweden from the comfort of the apartment (since it’s really crowded everywhere else during Germany games); we just watched the Spain go down in flames to the bitch French at a gnarly beer garden… sweet.

Today was the first day since the start of the tournament that there were no games so Bryan and I headed out into the city to explore and to shop around a little bit. We bought Cuban cigars and smoked them on the balcony of the apartment. Good times.

Clarification

I should probably point out that I’m exaggerating my hatred of Italians. Not that anyone who reads this doesn’t know me by now but still, as Ozzie Guillen is proving right now, some people can’t stand “hurtful” words. I mean, dude just came off a surprise World Series title and his job is in some danger because he called Jay Mariotti a fag (which he is).

What I am not exaggerating, however, is how all Italians look like females here. That is really god’s honest truth. It doesn’t matter what sex box they check on their applications, they all look and act like women. Still though, impugning a whole nation and deeming them cocklovers, immoral, crybaby, cheating, greaseball shitbags is a slight (very slight) exaggeration.

Or is it?

FUCK ITALY!!!!

Seriously though, fuck Italy. Can these douchebag faggots get a result without dubious officiating? I don’t want to distract from the fact that one of their dudes was actually sent off and Australia couldn’t capitalize on a man advantage for eons but the penalty kick – really? What the fuck?

What’s even more absurd is the manner in which the Italians celebrated. I watched the game with Vroni, Nicole and Bryan at a café and we were surrounded by bitch Italian fans. And I’m talking about the dudes. Well, supposed dudes.

(On a side note, I’ve made the crack to Bryan that there are really only one and a half sexes in Europe because most of the guys here fail to live up to any measure of manliness. There are some, don’t get me wrong, but there are very few – as Maddox would say – lumberjacks or pirates here. Remember that guido site that I ranted and raved about not too long ago? Well that is what the MAJORITY of “men” on this continent look like. The majority. The majority [once again, for emphasis]. You are more likely to run across 47 of these dudes on European streets than not.)

Anyway, back on topic, the Italian fans were jubilant. They rushed into the street with their flags and their faggy blue ITALIA t-shirts and made a spectacle of themselves. They were soo proud to have “won” that game, never mind the complete bullshit call that led to the PK. I’m sorry, but that’s one of those “wins” where you hang your head and say, “fuck, I’ll take it…” rather than something you actually celebrate. Have these people no sense of honor? No sense of shame? I told Nicole that it’s no wonder the Mafia has Italian/Sicilian origins because lying, cheating and stealing are apparently a way of life for the Italians. It’s an entire county and citizenry that is without any principle.

And another thing: though I’ve lampooned an entire continent of men, let me just say something else. All the blue ITALIA t-shirts are really unnecessary because, while most European dudes are faggy in general, Italians take the gay cake. I mean, they take looking gay to a whole new level. For example, if I see a man that looks like he really enjoys having semen pumped into his anus, I know that he is Italian and the blue t-shirt is just overkill at that point. I have included a handy guide for the uninitiated below. Please refer to it if you are in doubt about whether a “man” is Italian or not. Also note that this only applies to Europe. You may get your ass handed to you by velour track suit wearing thug with gaudy jewelry if you try to apply this to American-Italians. Still though, if you ever find yourself across the pond, this could come in handy if you need someone to gobble your cock at a moment’s notice.

Damn it all to hell…

So the US’ run in the World Cup is over. After eating a shit sandwich in the Czech game the US came out and kicked ass on the greasy Italians before the ref started tossing players out left and right. And don’t get me wrong – I hate complaining against the officials but holy shit, there were some bad calls in this tournament. And for the most part, it’s been consistently bad. I mean, the Pablo Mastroeni red card was definitely a foul… but was it a straight red in a World Cup game? And the Eddie Pope call? He got the ball! Yeah, he came from behind but he did get the ball. Again, is that worth a red card in a World Cup game? Still though, the US battled in that game and got a pretty good result considering. The really cool thing is that that tie kept us alive and gave the third game meaning.

So on the morning of the 22nd, Rick, Bryan and I boarded a train to Nürnberg. When we got there, we had some time to kill before meeting our clan so we took a stroll around the part of the city nearest to the train station. After an hour of sightseeing we met the rest of our group and headed off to the stadium.

In case you don’t know, Frankenstadion is located within easy walking distance of the Nazi Party rally grounds that Leni Riefenstahl made so famous with her propaganda films. We got off the train to the stadium and re-invaded the Nazi rally grounds. What a sight it must have been for any Germans that were there. Hundreds of American flag clad soccer fans crawling on and around the grandstand and podium where Hitler stood and addressed hundreds of thousands.

After visiting the rallying grounds we found a nice beer garden to throw a few back at before heading to the stadium. A live band was playing a pretty diverse mix of old American songs from the Doobie Brothers to Bon Jovi. There was also some Clapton for good measure.

We headed off to the stadium in good spirits and we were treated to the sight of Frankie Hejduk in the stands in the section next to ours. That was pretty random but cool. I mean, our seats were actually pretty good but you’d think an actual member of the team (before suffering injury) would have better seats than us. Still though, while we started off in good spirits, things quickly turned sour when Reyna gave the ball away and allowed a breakaway. First goal for Ghana. One thing I will say about US fans though: though we may have a shitty reputation as a soccer nation (and at this point, deservedly so) our fans kept singing and chanting. We aren’t like the Italians or some other soccer powers whose fans only sing when they’re winning.

A while later, DaMarcus Beasley actually did something right and gave us reason to keep singing when he made a good defensive steal and passed to a streaking Clint Dempsey who absolutely rifled the ball into the back of the net. I swear, Dempsey, Gooch and Jimmy Conrad were some of the few that actually showed up to play at this tournament.

The joy from the goal was quickly dispelled though when the ref called a bullshit penalty against Gooch in the box. Penalty kick. Great. Another shitty call by the fucking retard refs. Still though, just to be clear on this point: the US wasn’t robbed of the game by the refs. We could have overcome that and we SHOULD have overcome that. It wasn’t to be though. All we needed on Thursday was a victory and an Italian win over the Czechs. Well, word started spreading throughout the stadium that the Italians were winning but that meant nothing if we didn’t do our part. And, of course, we didn’t. Fuck.

After the game we headed back to the beer garden for some professional drinking. We got lit and after a few hours, headed back to the train station to catch out train back to Munich. Some of us, however, were more lit than others. While Bryan and I were content to sing some disallowed songs with some rowdy English fans, Ricky went a step further and gave away his nearly $100 jersey to a German man that he must have thought was nice. Good job. We though he may have traded for something of equal value but no… he just gave it away.

We finally made it back to the train station only to realize that Ricky had disappeared. Great. If Bryan had gone missing, Rick and I would have taken the train back to Munich because Bryan could find his way back. If I would have gone missing, Bryan and Rick would have taken the train back for the same reason. But Ricky? We had to stay and try and find him because he wouldn’t have been able to locate the platform the train was departing from. And if he DID make it back to Munich, he wouldn’t know what subway line to take. And if by some miracle he DID take the correct subway line, he wouldn’t know what stop to get off at. And if by some miracle he DID get off at the subway stop, I’m not convinced he would have known what direction to start walking in.

And that’s if he was sober.

Ricky was not sober.

Bryan and I had hoped against all hope that Rick made it to the platform so we went to have a look. No Rick. The train pulled up and still Ricky was nowhere to be found. Again, we couldn’t leave him to find his way back because, well… he’d still be in Nürnberg even now if we left him to his own devices. I told Bryan to stay put while I went on a desperate run to find my fool brother. The good news is that he had somehow wandered back into the train station meaning I didn’t have to run through the whole city. The less impressive news is that he was asking a restaurant owner how to get to the train leaving for Munich and he was using his match ticket. Like looking at the game ticket would give the dude any clues that could help Ricky out. Knucklehead.

In any event, we sprinted back to the platform and found that, by what must have been a delay of some sort, our train had not left us and we were able to board without further incident. Ricky was not in good shape though. Though there were some harrowing moments on the way back, I will detail them later. Suffice it to say, Ricky was fucked enough to pass completely out on the floor of the subway on the way back to the apartment. Notice the gray undershirt where the Donovan jersey should have been? So did he - the next morning - heeheehee...

This is cool

Here is a video I shot of the national anthem being played/sung just before the Italy game in Kaiserslautern. Bryan uploaded it to YouTube yesterday.

Germany needs air-conditioning

Germany had the first production jet engine. The Germans have also invented the printing press, radio guided weapons, ballistic missiles and cruise missiles. When we think of German engineering, we think of finely crafted automobiles and audio systems.

There is, however, a key technology that is missing in this country and it is called air conditioning.

When cavemen - thousands upon thousands of years ago - got warm, they pulled leaves off trees and fanned themselves. Look at the picture I’ve posted here: there’s an ancient Egyptian ass-kicker about to hand some peasant his ass and an ankh is fanning him to keep him cool. HOW, IN THE SPAN OF TIME, HAS THIS TECHNOLOGY NOT FOUND ITS WAY TO GERMANY? FUCK!!!!

It’s been miserable here for the past few days. Though the temperature isn’t nearly as hot as it is the Arizona, the humidity is considerably higher. You get out of the shower here and don’t get dry and then walking somewhere means a nice sweat and the accompanying swamp ass.

The absolute worst part about it is being INDOORS though. Vroni WILL NOT open windows creating a sauna effect in the room. We (the Americans: myself, Bryan and Rick) open up the windows in the living room in attempt to draw air through the apartment but we are constantly thwarted by Vroni closing everything up on the other end of the house. Why does she do this? Because it gets drafty… I think. I mean, I still haven’t heard a suitable explanation for her actions and I can only assume that she likes to live in an oven. As for drafty – that’s the whole goddam point! Get some cool air moving through the apartment so it isn’t so stiflingly hot! This has, so far, been the one point of contention between us. I like to live in an environment suited for human beings and she prefers an environment where eggs can fry on the floor and dough can rise. People tell me, “well, you’re from Arizona so you should be used to the heat.” The only problem with that logic is that we have COOLERS AND AC in the United States. We have evolved past the stone-fucking-ages in terms of cooling technology across the pond. Sadly, my prospective abode has some evolving of its own to do…

All Italians are faggots

Ok, maybe not 100% of them but at least 98%.

Rick flew in so we picked him up at the airport, brought him back to the apartment to set his stuff down, catch his breath and then promptly left for Mannheim. The trip was pretty cool but actually finding your way around a city where the streets have no names sucks (I can only guess U2 was talking about Mannheim when they wrote their song…). We finally find the place we were looking for and were pleasantly surprised by the accommodations… until we noticed that the bathroom door was see-through. What the fuck? If one of us had to crap, we had to warn the others so they wouldn’t wander by and catch an eyeful of someone pinching a loaf. When we showered, we had to give a warning to stay on the other side of the room so we would catch an eyeful of hairy man-ass. Stupid see-through doors.

The bonus of this sort of European openness was the (easy access to) pornography though. For anyone that hasn’t been to Germany – and this is probably valid for all of Europe – there are late night phone sex ads where the women are topless and, sometimes, bottomless. The interesting thing about this is that the nakedness on the television kind of precludes the calling of the phone sex number. I mean, who would call a phone sex line when the commercial had naked chicks in it anyway? If you’re that hard up, why not just beat off to the commercial and save the money? Nevertheless, we flipped past the phone sex ads and got to some hard stuff. There it was, big as shit, a ginormous dong on the telly and some hooker sucking it like it was her last meal. We got a good laugh out of that and changed the channel. Hard core ass fucking. That’s what greeted us. I thought to myself, “this is unusual” but chalked it up to being in Europe.

The last laugh was on us though, as when we went to check out, the lady at the counter charged us for the porno that we thought was free. It turns out that there was a channel that asked you to input your room number. Well, Bryan did that thinking nothing of it but what was really happening was we were ordering all the pay-per-view channels including all the hard core porn. D’oh…

I should mention that we did go to Kaiserslautern for a few hours after setting our stuff down in Mannheim. We attend the yanks-abroad.com party and cheered against Mexico during their game versus Angola. It was a great time.

In any event, we headed back to Kaiserslautern the next morning to attend the game. We settled our stuff into lockers, got geared up in our best outfits and headed off to the Irish bar to meet Aaron and some other folks. I should also point out that I had another anti-American encounter at the train station. Some random drunk, piece of shit Italian walked up to me with an American flag draped over his shoulders. When he saw us, he pulled the flag up and started chanting, “pezzo di merda.” Well, if you know anything about me, you know how well that was received. I was ready to lay some knuckles into his grill when the rational part of me won and after thinking that I might cost myself a chance to attend what will go down as one of the grittiest performances by any American team ever. So… I had to be content to remind him that I had all my teeth while his dental hygiene was seriously lacking…

After that, however, we did meet up with Aaron and had a few beers. We also randomly met an Air Force chick from Tucson and had some drinks with her and her friend too.

Several beers later and it was time to head off to the stadium. Despite our hike for what seemed like hours (alleviated by a nice Magnum Classic ice cream bar), we finally go to the stadium and found our seats. The seats weren’t as cool as the ones in Gelsenkirchen but they were more than adequate. The view of the field was clear and, again, allowed one to see all the plays as they developed. Soccer live is something that really needs to be experienced at the international level.

For anyone that saw the game though, I don’t want to sound like a poor sport, so lets just say this: the ref at this game was suspended and prevented from working in the 2002 Cup for “irregularities” and had a history with a questionable call against the U.S. in a previous game.

You know what, fuck not wanting to sound like a poor sport, fuck the Uruguayan referee and fuck the whole Italian team. Brian McBride required three stitches to close the wound on his face but he got up of his own accord, walked to the sideline, received treatment, changed his shirt and then got back on the field. Italians, however, feel that any body contact is akin to death. They sit there and roll around like a bunch of little faggots but suddenly they’re OK after the foul is called. Fuck Italy, fuck them up their stupid asses. We had a victory stolen from us yesterday and that’s an awfully bitter pill to swallow. Still though, there is some relief to be found in the fact that we are, technically, still alive and regardless of what happens from here on out, the U.S. played their asses off and atoned for the opening game. There are many here, and elsewhere, saying that this was the best game of the World Cup so far. And should the U.S. manage to advance out of this group, this game will go down in lore.

And I was there.

German Hypocrisy

First of all, a couple of quick notes from the game itself. I neglected to mention a lot of the actual game action because I wanted to put that disaster behind me but now with a few days to recover there are a couple of things I should mention: first of all, our tickets were awesome. Sitting behind the goal lets you experience a soccer game like TV never can. For example, you can see on TV that Claudio Reyna is good; when you watch him live though, you can see that he’s borderline genius. The way plays develop and the way he sees everything before it happens is really cool.

Second of all, believe it or not – the US didn’t play THAT terribly. They had a collective brain fart in the first five minutes that put them in a hole but they seemed to dictate a lot of the rest of the way the half was played and, with some finishing, they would have been right back in the game. Say, for example, Reyna’s shot doesn’t clang off the post and goes in. Whole new ball game. The second goal by the Czechs was just amazing. There’s nothing you can do about that. After that though, down 2-0, the US had no choice but to try and press an attack against a Czech team that didn’t need more goals so they packed it in. There’s still SOME hope for the US but it’s going to be tough as balls…

Now – onto the bitchy part of my post. It’s no secret that I love Germany and enjoy 99% of the things/people that I encounter here. Having said that, I do take issue with a couple of things I consider hypocritical of them. Example: they are opposed to our foreign policy and make it no secret that they think we’re militaristic, etc. That same policy though, protected them throughout the cold war and was the reason they weren’t bled dry by the Soviets. There’s a lot of resentment in West Germany towards the East Germans because they have to prop up their shitty economy now that the country is reunited. What they need to understand is that they’d be in the same boat if it wasn’t for the protection that the US offered. As a matter of fact, the A-10 that’s such a familiar sight over the skies of Tucson was, in many ways, designed specifically to protect Germany from a tank attack by the Soviets. So why do I bring this up anyway? The countries that talk the most shit about the US and our foreign policy are the ones that will benefit from it the most if the shit ever hits the fan. Say German tanks roll across the French border again. Who do you think will stop them? The French? Their Foreign Legion? We all know who would step in to save their asses again. The same goes for Germany. If the reverse occurred and tanks rolled into Germany, it’d be Americans that would protect them. These countries are kept safe by the realization (on any potential enemy’s part) that, if they were to be fucked with, you’d have to deal with the United States of America. Since I’m in a paraphrasing mood, I’ll paraphrase Col. Nathan Jessup: they sleep under the blanked of security that we provide but criticize the manner in which we provide it.

Which brings me (finally) to the point that raised all this ire in me in the first place.

Last night, I went with Bryan and Vroni to a beer garden to watch the Germany game. What do I see but a collection of German fans wearing ridiculous hats (see my hat for example), wigs, face paint, jerseys and carrying gigantic German flags. Do I hold that against them as fans? Fucking right I do. Here’s why:

I’ve lived in Germany and have a reasonable familiarity with Germans and the way they perceive things. I know, for a FACT, that they tend to despise any show of jingoism; loathe any display of nationalism and even hold any display of seemingly harmless patriotism in contempt. And that is one thing that they will tell you they dislike about Americans: we’re shamelessly nationalistic (at least in their eyes). We wave the flag without needing a special occasion, we put it on our automobiles, we wear t-shirts that say “God Bless America” and so on. They don’t like that. They realize the last time they showed a fervent patriotic/nationalistic bent, they started another World War. They live with that guilt.

If you ask a German if they’re proud to be European, they’ll say yes. If you ask a German from Munich if they’re proud to be Bavarian, they’ll say yes. If you ask a German if they’re proud to be German, they’ll say no. That’s the way it is here.

So why my hostility toward the German fan? Because there are many of them that don’t give a SHIT about the World Cup or soccer at all. But that doesn’t stop them from putting on their Germany hats, painting their faces, waving their flags and carrying on. It’s the one occasion where nationalism and jingoism get a pass in this country. They exhibit the EXACT SAME behavior that they hate Americans for the other 1,430 out of 1,460 days.

I have no problem with someone loving their country and showing it. The fans from Trinidad and Tobago are a kick in the ass and the same goes for fans of most other nations. But forgive me if I cannot overlook the hypocrisy on display when a German exhibits the same behavior they HATE in nations like ours. The World Cup is a special event, that much is true. But it’s not an excuse to through your supposed “principles” out the window.

Best shitty day ever

So I’m back in Munich now after the debacle in Gelsenkirchen. All things considered though, Bryan and I had a great time. (Speaking of Bryan, he has his own blog that’s more soccer/World Cup oriented; check him out at 2006cup.blogspot.com).

In any event, here’s how things went down: we left Munich early in the morning so we can get to Gelsenkirchen and Münster at reasonable times. We were staying in Münster with a friend of mine (I’ve now been in Germany for a week, stayed in five different cities and have yet to pay for my accommodations – I rule…) but we did want to check the match site out. Well, we got to Gelsenkirchen and it’s a shithole. There’s nothing there at all. Apparently, it used to be a mining town but the mines have long since shut down. In fact, if it wasn’t for its soccer facilities (which are on par with any facilities in the world), there’d be no reason for Gelsenkirchen to exist at all anymore. But we caught the Holland game in a café, had a few beers and moved on to Münster.

Münster was a different story altogether. It’s a college town but there’s a lot of history there and some really cool sites. We took Steffi and her roommate out to dinner and then hit the sack to prepare for the game.

Monday rolled around and we left again for Gelsenkirchen and the one hour train ride to the city. When we got in, we met up with some acquaintances and headed off to a bar that was a stone’s throw from the train station. Holy shit… the place was swarming with Americans. It was a great atmosphere and we had a great time there. Also, we met and hung out with Sports Illustrated soccer/basketball writer Grant Wahl and he was genuinely super cool. He sat down with us, ate with us and bullshitted with us until he had to leave for the arena. We followed suit shortly afterward. The bus was crowded but uneventful until some asshole Czech fan, drunk as balls, climbed on and started talking shit. Not “hey, we’re going to kick your ass today!” talking shit but rather, “Fuck you, fuck you, Vietnam, Iraq, fuck you…” talking shit. Another American kindly reminded him (too kindly for my tastes – he needed to be reminded with a closed fist shot to his mouth but I digress…) that we also helped to bring down the Soviet Union. The Czech fan had to eat his shit after that and actually climbed out of the bus shortly afterward. Weird.

That was the only even quasi-run in that we had. Everybody else was super cool and the atmosphere in the stadium itself was phenomenal. The US sold out its allotment of tickets so we were loud and very visible. Unfortunately, as we all know, the US did not get the result we wanted. Now we’ve dug ourselves a hole that we are unlikely to climb out of. Shit.

After the game, we headed back to some bars to drink away the disappointment and found a place to chill before grabbing some food and heading back to Hibernia, the bar where everything started. We also had the pleasure of watching some US fans fight each other. It was a completely ridiculous spectacle but strangely entertaining. There were three groups of US fans, on group had dudes that were wearing Beasley jerseys and a second group were giving them shit for it since Beasley played about as well as a one legged palsy afflicted armadillo. In any event, a THIRD group saw this going down and, somehow, took offense. A member of that party called over to a dude in the second group, “Hey faggot in the tank top! Faggot in the tank top!” and it was seriously the least threatening thing I’ve ever heard. But the two groups clashed, slaps and a punch or two were exchanged and that chased away a small group of had come by to… exist, I guess. I would say celebrate but they honestly looked like they were at a funeral. My guess is that, though they won the soccer match, they know that they have to go back to the Czech Republic when it’s all over whereas most American fans get to go back home to the United States. In other words, they may have won the game of soccer but we win in the game of life.

Anyhow, after all the excitement, we headed back to Münster and met back up with Grant Wahl and Steve Davis (from the Dallas Morning News) who were both on the way back to Hamburg. We got back into town at 2 a.m. and it took another hour (and a very confused taxi driver) to get back to Steffi’s place. Again though, while the result may have been crap, we still managed to have a great time. Well, the train journey back to Munich sucked ass but really, who am I to complain?

Back in Munich

My quick trip to Düsseldorf is over – and what a trip it was. We got into town and were picked up at the airport by Vroni’s cousin. He was a cool dude and showed us around town before taking us to lunch at a traditional local restaurant. Afterwards, he drove us to the Phillipshalle where the concert was taking place to drop us off. It was kind of funny though: we were heading to the show and we encountered concert traffic. He (and Vroni) refused to believe that all the traffic was for the Tool show. They kept saying stuff like, “there must be an accident up there or something…” but little did they know…

So anyway, we arrive at the concert hall and the cousin is finally a believer because of the assembled crowd outside. We got dropped off, headed in and secured a place to watch the show. For those that are interested, I can definitely say that Adam is NOT using an EBow during “Lost Keys.” I can say that with certainty because Justin is the one doing the feedback part and he didn’t always get the pitch he wanted so it wasn’t exactly like it is on the album. It was still a cool intro though, especially after “Rosetta Stoned” kicked in. After that, I would have to say that “Jambi” was the highlight of the show. Outside of “Right in Two,” the rest of their setlist consisted of songs that I’ve heard several times live already. It was still a great show though. And, for the record, the arena was packed. Top to bottom, front to back.

The next day we had lunch with another cousin of Vroni’s and had a chance to check the city out. Then we went back to the first cousin’s house (where we were staying) and kicked back in the back yard with his neighbor and his assembled guests to watch Germany v. Costa Rica to officially kick off the World Cup. The neighbor cooked up some awesome food on the grill and we ate like medieval kings. We drank like Irishmen though. Beer after beer after beer were had along with some shots of some Eastern European liquor whose name I remember but can’t spell. I also remember that the shots were of the same consistency, taste and burn that one might expect from doing shots of straight gasoline. Thankfully, I woke up this morning without a hangover and we headed back out to the harbor for lunch and some relaxation before the flight to Munich.

I still haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep here though and hell will break loose again tomorrow as Bryan and I head off to the first US game. After all, to paraphrase Jack Edwards, “That’s why we’re here!!”

Right now, my life is better than yours....

This will be a quick post because I need to get on another airplane here soon.

Here's the deal: Veronika picked me up from the airport yesterday and asked me what I was planning for tomorrow (today). I was planning to chill seeing as how by the time I went to bed last night, I had been up for 36 straight hours. I was planning on resting. I, however, have a new itenerary and I'm not complaining about it. It seems that she wanted to surprise me with plane tickets to Düsseldorf - and surprise tickets to tonight's Tool show there. Awesome. I'll be there for a couple of days then returning to Munich on Saturday to prepare for the US' first game in Gelsenkirchen Monday. Fuckin' a!

And I’m out…

Well, the day has finally arrived: in a few short hours (7.5 to be exact), I will be wheels up and on my way to Munich. First step: follow the US Soccer team in the World Cup. Second step: look for a job. What’s next? Who knows... but we’re going to find out soon enough. I’ll be keeping this site up and I will be updating it regularly so keep an eye out for WC updates. And me making fun of Germans. And updates from the hospital after soccer hooligans kick my ass…