New York, New York! May 18, 2008

Yes! I am going to the US!

I have been wanting to go for ages, but unless I was going to hide on some cargo ship and hope for a hole in the fence at US customs, it was never going to happen. I got really lucky, though!
No, really, thanks to all my hard work and starving myself in order to save some money, I have accumulated enough dollars to make the trip across the pond. Blessings unto thee, Sir Richard Branson, for providing such cheap flights.
The East Coast is the place I be at chilling, from Boston all the way down to Charlotte, NC. Word.
Now, here are some childhood dreams that I absolutely have to experience:

The Statue of Mother-effing-Liberty!
The Empire State Building!
Dunkin’ Donuts!
TGIFriday’s!
Kool-Aid!

Oh, man. I am going to have such a good time.

Happy Purim! March 21, 2008

I am just as Jewish as your average muslim, which means I am not Jewish at all. But since I read Hebrew studies at university, I like to get a bit hands on with culture, and holidays form a very important part of that. Not only do they provide great insight into life and morals, they also give me the chance to, on a much lighter note, enjoy some good cooking, the results of which you can see below.
In no way am I celebrating Purim as if I were completely acquainted with Jewish culture and understanding every aspect of it; I feel I cannot partake in a holiday when missing two very key elements, namely background and history, or if it is not tradition for it to be celebrated within the community I live in. For example, Saint Nicholas is one of the highlights of my year – chocolate! tangerines! presents! – but I am not christian. Still, I am a part of the culture that surrounds that day.

But on to lighter things! I have busied myself with the making of hamantaschen with poppy seed filling – utterly delicious, but pretty hard to make (took me forever to get the shape right). A picture of my first attempt:

I find it takes about half a Regina Spektor album to get the poppy seed filling right, three Wolfmother songs to bake them (Joker & The Thief, The White Unicorn and Where The Eagles Have Been), and the first three lines of Oasis’ Songbird to eat them. I-tunes is my constant companion while cooking, you see.

Your average stag party abroad. January 20, 2008

 

¡Hola chicos!

After two weeks at home lazing in the winter sun, I feel like a Thomas Cook package holiday to Lloret de   Mar. All that is missing in my garden is the actual beach, fucking ugly high rises, chubby Germans in speedos and English football fans. Ohh, and the ever decorative puddle of regurgitated whatever. Because really, no package holiday is complete without!

 
“Alright, mate?”

What more is necessary to make Lloret de Mar the holiday of your short, inebriated life? First of all, make sure it isn’t just any trip to Spain…make it a stag party! Hell yeah! The more the merrier…make sure everybody brings his ‘STAG OF THE YEAR’ t-shirt, you don’t want to go without it when pulling the ladies. Because they just flock to you and yer mates, you know. And before leaving, practice your drunken slurs. That way, you can go up to any old hag and say whatever nasty things you would like to say when you are sober, because she will just think you are drunk and thus won’t bitch-slap you in the face. Right, fellas? I suggest: “Allllriiiiight dear? ‘Ows it ‘angin’? Wanna shag? I’m fookin’ drrrrrrunk!” Adding that you are drunk will take away any doubt that might be lingering in her mind. And also, target the sun-cooked, platinum blonde, fake-boobed 50+ ladies. It’ll be easier for both of you.
So that’s that sorted! But apart from pulling skills, you will also need to be able to dance like a total tosser. Maybe a bit of the good old polonaise dancing? Or the River Dance moves (best fucking video you ever bought, isn’t it)? I find most of you favour jumping up and down while putting your arms around the shoulders of your mates, though. Do it while holding a pint, that way it will go all over the fucking place except in your mouth. I am sure that hot slag over there will love being totally covered in Heineken. And don’t forget to shout the name of your country every once in a while. All your countrymen will gather round and then you can all start the best polonaise Lloret has ever seen.
So that’s pulling and dancing covered. The last and probably most important skill you need to possess: how to get that ugly lass out of your bed. The easiest thing to do is just get up and leave. She should be gone around nine-ish. If she should wake up while you try to make your escape, say you are going to look after your mate. He had a bit of a rough night. It’s a great excuse because 99% true, so she will understand and bugger off. If all your attempts fail, just pick her up and dump her outside. She will be too drunk to even notice anyway.

Now you can get on the next Ryanair flight to Lloret de Mar! And remember lads, the best food is to be found at the 38374029 or so ex-pat restaurants! Because really, who in their right mind would ever eat paella? It’s good old steak and kidney pie/Bratwürst/chips and mayonnaise/…for you lot!