I'm Back Baby!!!

Well fellow mopes, after two week long hiatus I am finally back. As you know I made my way to the wonderfully futbol filled country of England two weeks ago and I just returned on Saturday. I probably should have taken notes while I was there since I drank enough alcohol to comatose a baby elephant. So if there are some errors and/or something doesn't quite make sense, it is probably because the last two braincells aren't generating enough force to complete a sensible sentence. So I figured I would give you a rundown of what we did, some differences in culture that I noticed and my overall thoughts on being there.

First and foremost, let me start by saying that there is so much f'ing history in that country that it is almost unbelievable. I went to see several sights while I was there and I was in awe when I saw most of them. Example: I went to see a castle that was built in the year 506. How f'ing crazy is that??? 5 0 friggin' 6! I went to see several sights that were similar yada yada yada.

OK, let's get to the good stuff. Everyone knows that they drive on the wrong side of the road and they have a pretty gangster accent but there is a lot more than that. First of all, let's start with the most important thing.....Beer. Upon entering my first of several pubs I wasn't sure what to expect. The guys that we hung out with said to order one of the local "bitters." So without any hesitation, I pony up to the bar and ask for one pint of "bitter." The guy reached up underneath the counter and his hands were momentarily hidden, which worried me, and then he came back up with a pretty dark, room temperature, heavily headed brew. I took a sip and, hey, it wasn't too bad. I then yell out my name in hopes to get a tab going for the many beverages that I planned on having for the night but do you think that happened? NOPE! So after fighting a losing battle with the random barkeep, I went about my business. After a while, I had enough of the bitters and decided that I was going to have a mixed drink. So I make my way up to my best friend in the country and I order a vodka and 7. My buddy disappears for a second and returns with what appears to be a glass of 7-up. I take a swig and, yup, it is mostly 7-up. I confront the guy who is quickly becoming my nemesis and ask for some ice, first of all and another shot of vodka. He proceeds to pub 2 cubes of ice into the ginormous glass followed by what I can best describe as a splash of vodka. At this point I have two choices. I can quietly take my 7, splash of vodka and my 2 cubes of ice and be on my merry way or I can fight my way through the f'ing idiot who is posing as a bartender. What do you suppose I did? That's right, I fought with the idiot! It started out nice with me simply asking "why the hell is ice treated as if it is an ounce of platinum?" So I get a response in a heavy English accent "what the bloody 'ell are you talking about?" This goes on for the majority of the night so I cut my losses, stumble outside, look around disoriented for a minute and head in the general direction of where I am staying. This same scenario went on for several nights until I was able to learn some of the local jargon and order me a real drink.
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Overall, it was a good time. I stayed drunk, talked trash about local futbol clubs and f'd with a bunch of Brits. They didn't think that my liver could hang with them but old faithful hung in there just fine. I would tell you guys about my trip to France but F the Frenchies. So until next post, cheers mates!