Mustachioed Mercury Rising

May 4th, 2012:  We decided to go see a show (or, my mom let it be known she thought it would be nice to see a show so I picked the one the gents would most enjoy).  We Will Rock You, at the Dominion.   Narrowly edging "Rock of Ages" and "Thriller."  Chicago was last.  Way last.  I guess I don't pay too much attention to theater, because I thought this was a brand new show (nope...10 year run.  Probably been touring longer than Queen).  I also thought it was a show based on the life of Fredo Merc.  It was not

I don't doubt you, sir.

Here's my synopsis of the show (which was fantastic, by the way, after a really shaky beginning).

The future is dominated by a large black woman who runs a global brand that brainwashes the youth into being a cookiecutter/uber commercial society.  The "Killer Queen" is like, a cross between, Oprah and the bad guy from the Little Mermaid.  Scary shit.  

The hero appears in the form of a loner teen who dresses like James Dean.  He bumps into a goth chic who similarly shuns the establishment, and they take off together.  They stumble into a lost society of people, the "Bohemians" who live at the Heartbreak Hotel and believe that The One will return, find the world's last guitar, and return the people to "the Rhapsody."  Their leader is a jacked martial artist named Britney Spears, and his girlfriend is a really hot chic named Meatloaf.  You see where its going.  

The Queen finds everyone and brainwashes them, but the One escapes, finds the guitar, bangs the chic, sings We Will Rock You, and Oprah's head explodes.  Then they play a pretty bad ass live version of Bohemian Rhapsody that everyone who's drunk sings at the top of their lungs, in an awesome way.  I had a buzz so I went home and bought 25 Queen songs, 22 of which I'll never listen to again.

Random highlight.  Have you ever gone to a show/game or movie and your experience is made 100 times better by the behavior of someone not in your party?  When it happens, its great.  In 1989, I saw What About Bob and the obese gentleman in front of us was laughing so hard he was weezing.  His kids at first were terrified that he was dying, and then were embarrassed...and left.  I'm sure he's dead by now, but his memory lives on every time I see that movie.  It'll never be funnier than it was that night.

We had a guy sitting in front of us who refused to sit next to the people he came with (either son and daughter or son and wife).  He sat by himself and played with his phone.  The ushers would come down to ask him to turn it off, and then as soon as they turned around he'd flip it back on, and they'd come flying back down the aisle to tell him to stop.

At half time he stood and claimed his seat was broken and they spent 10 minutes trying to fix it while he played with his phone.  And then he spent the entire second act pretending to shoot himself in the head with his finger.  I spent the second act trying to flick popcorn kernels at him to see if I could further agitate him.  Not sure if I succeeded.  

The show was great, but any time I think of it, I'll always wonder what was going on with that dude.  

Welcome to the Old World...

May 4, 2012:  The Derderians arrived in London this week and moved into my luxury 2 bedroom flat with me. This will represent the longest amount of time my brother, my folks and I will have lived under the roof since I moved to NYC.  God save the queen...and us.

We caught up for dinner at the Italian place across the street.  We are so continental.  This spot has been a favorite of mine since its very much like a little joint in the North End.  That and its pretty much the only place that's open past 9 in my neighborhood.  We ordered a few apps ahead of our meals, and split a bottle of red wine.  My brother asked for ice, and was promptly told they didn't have any.  I'm still not sure if he was f--king with him or not.  I'm gonna go over there and ask him after this.

Early highlight of the trip:  Over dinner, the family discussed their agenda for Thursday, while I was at work.  My brother said he'd be ready to go in the morning as soon as he got to the bathroom.  Because he wasn't interested in getting on a tour bus until he was sorted out.  This lead to a very colorful conversation trying down to the time they could expect to leave.

"I'm not sure.  I took a bunch of Immodium before we got on the plane, so I may be a little off."
Wait...are you sick?
"No"
So why'd you take Immodium?
"Preventive measures.  I like to control my internal environment."

The verve with which he defended this position was killing my dad and I.  We were laughing and egging him on, when he ended the conversation, hilariously, with this burst.

"Listen, idiots.  Do you want to sit on the bus all day wondering when disaster is going to strike?  Or would you rather take matters into your own hands and control yourself?  What the hell am I going to do if we're at Stonehenge and nature calls?  "Well, don't mind me.  I'm just going to grab this guide book and head off behind that ring of ancient rocks.  Can someone grab me a souvenir t-shirt?"

Got harder to argue.  My dad and I ended up laughing so hard we hugged in the rainy London street.  We're special

Slangin in Berlin

April 28th, 2012:  Berlin, Germany

One of the things I've really enjoyed about being abroad is checking out the ads and what people are selling.  Some of these surely exist in the US, and they just seem funnier to me here.  Some of them are just downright ridiculous.

The first real commercial you see is ubiquitous as you walk through the city and cross the line of The Wall is for Capitalism and Democracy.  When you cross Berlin from the West Side to the East side, it becomes a real toilet.  It looks like Detroit.  There are bombed out buildings, graffiti and trash;  living and dead.  Anyone still subscribing to the Daily Worker needs to come walk the line here.  The debate is over, folks.

This cracked me up.  I have 177 days to get this shirt and a black body suit and
Halloween is done.  I hope it comes in bronze

Wigs

Rapists and race cars

This message is unclear.  I'd guess the image we're going for is "if you wanna fly, you need to go all in."  And that with Marlboro's, you'll be 'greater' which is what that arrow sign means.  I guess this guy didn't light up, because he is going down.  He is way, way <

No idea.  Not gonna try

Paid for by a bunch of fish hating cows

This joint inspired the seldom heard b-side to Lucy in the Sky with Diamond

Two and a half euro foot long just doesn't sound the same, right?
I'd like to think Jared would play in Berlin though

Alanis Morissette:  Going down in a theater!  The Berlin Zitadelle!

This is what Mila Kunis would look like if she botoxed the VX toxin that Stanley Goodspeed
confiscated from Ed Harris on The Rock.  Also, I think she's saying AIDS is romantic.  Either romance or AIDS must mean something different in German

I actually looked this up.  It says "Donate Potatoes to autistic kid"

Well I hope you have a big trunk.  Because I'm going to put my  bike in it

This guy is way more pissed about AIDS than botox Mila Kunis.  Again, not sure
if something is lost in translation.

If you need the wine when you get her into the apartment and show her that view
you're not worth your cork

Open to suggestion here

We thought this bar had darts, but this is just the name of the new Offspring album, which sucks

A metal bear is going to throw a huge paper mache sausage at you if you
 don't eat at the curry place underneath this tower

The memorial for the most daring, but ultimately stupid, attempt to get over the wall

You know the hardest part about driving this car?

knowing that this is the upgrade

Damn hard way to make a living in Berlin when its 80 degrees.   Maybe I just dont see them, but do we have a lot of mascots dressed up at major American moments?  There are at least 5 Mickey Mouses at every attraction I've been to in Europe.  There aren't even that many in Disney

This was grafitti on the wall that was salvaged (that's a 'the sugarhill gang is so old...' joke)

How old was Scarlett Johanson when they made this movie  if she fit on Jason Bourne's shoulders?

Yellow Ledbetter, in German, is a veal cutlet pounded paper thin with a mallet and fried in beer.

Are you f--king kidding me? (Episode III)

Really?  I should fire you and burn down your house.

I was made, again, to feel incredulous in dealing with the physical act of getting my visa back from the agency that helped me expedite it through the system.  They were lovely people and extremely helpful through what was a very stressful process for me.  But the execution of the final handoff almost drove to drink a diffuser of Sex Panther.

They had told me the document would likely be in on Wednesday, and they'd know by 10AM.  At that point, I'd have time to get on the 6PM to Heathrow.  At 10AM I called them and they told me they'd had no word.  I sent a few emails throughout the day, and had no answer.  I got used to the fact that I'd be spending another night in NYC.  Around 445 I got a call from the agency.  It went like this, where I will be R, and they will be A.

A:  Rob!  I'v been trying to email you.  Your visa came in.

R:  That's great.  When did it come in?

A:  About 11AM!

R:  Great...um, why didn't you call me then?

A:  We emailed you.  But it must not have gone through.

R:  Ya, I didn't get it.  How do you know it didn't go through?
A:  Because our email has been down all day

R:  When did you find out your email was down?

A:  At 11AM.  When we tried to email you.

(deep breath, rob.  Deep breath)

R:  So why didn't you call me then?
A:  I forgot I had your number!  

R:  Oh well.  Can I come grab it now?
A:  Not here.  Our courier service has it.

R:  Even better!  Have them drop it off at my office

A:  No, we can't do that.

R:  OK.  Have them leave it for me at the hotel.

A:  No, we can't do that.  They are a courier serivce.

(Pause)

R:  I know...can't they drop it off?
A:  No...they're a courier service.

R:  OK...well then I think one of us doesn't know what a courier service does.

A:  Ha!  No, they are a pick up only service.  They don't drop off.

R:  Um...well can they come pick me up then, and take me to the visa

(Confusion...pause)

A:  They are up by Grand Central.  You can just go grab it.

R:  OK, its 455 and I'm in Chelsea...what time does it close?

A:  Um, its between 5 and 630 or so.  It really varies

R:  On what?  I'll never get there by 5.  Can you call and ask them to keep someone there for me?

A:  Oh, we can't do that.  They are a courier service.

R:  That word again.  You are using at least one of those words incorrectly.  They do not appear to be doing much courier-ring, or serving.

A:  Ha!  You're funny.  Well, good luck!  Glad we could help.

People.  They always cease to amaze me.  Oh well, more time to shop.

Visa...not priceless. Priceful

April 16th or so...NYC


Had to take a quick detour on my world tour to return to NYC to secure a visa for work in the UK.  Look at that fricking document.  The last time I spent that much time and money chasing something across the Atlantic, it had a lot cuter face on it.  Believe that.

All in all a four day sabbatical wasn't bad.  Gave me a chance to remember what I was missing and what felt different

• Food:  It is very difficult to find what you want to eat in London, especially if you want to try and eat healthy. Even if you're wiling to settle for fish'n'chips, you better get there before 9 or so or you're  going home hungry.  I made use of my time with a few beers and a Lombardi's take out at Spring Lounge
• Cabs...so available.  So cheap.  And this is going to sound weird, but the accents are sometimes a little easier to understand.
• The pound must be doing poorly, as things seemed cheap in the dollar.  I brought a lot of stuff back with me
• Haircut:  See the picture above.  When I got that snapped at Duane Reade and handed it over to the visa agency, I realized it was time for a cut.  Maybe this is another life lesson of being abroad;  Time to grow up, kid.  I felt real grimy getting off a plane in a hat, sneaks and a hoodie. Being 32 and all.  So I advantage of the strong greenback dollar to get an expensive haircut from a diverse gentleman in Chelsea and bought a ton of new clothes.  Changes...

Me and Joelle, who I'd absolutely let make most of my life decisions if she'd take the responsibility.  Thanks also to Morgan for snapping the photo "so I'd remember how bad it looked before."

Shipping off to Berlin

One of the interesting things about being abroad is that people you know from back home introduce you other ex-Pats to hang out with.  And this is how I came to be spending my weekend in Berlin with a few Americans I barely know.

I'll be taking off tomorrow morning and heading back Monday.

People are very hot on Berlin right now.  Someone told me its one of the 3 B's, along with Barcelona and Brazil.

I have no idea what to expect, so here's a stream of consciousness list of what I anticipate of Berlin.

• Lots of people trying to sell me bits of broken brick that were part of some wall Coca Cola created via CGI and then destroyed in the late 80s as an act of capitalist propaganda
• Blonde hair
• Skinny jeans...skinnier even than the British
• Great cars
• Subtle superiority
• Beer
• Blue eyes

This song

We'll also be going to a soccer game where I assume I'll make a comment about all the grown men wearing scarves on an 80 degree day that will get me punched in the face.

Till then...

Spanish Leftovers

Ham...the national treasure 

Front of Palacio Real

Its big

All the statues hold this little rod in their right hand...what is it?

Remote control?

Men in Black Mind Eraser

Chap Stick?

Palace Gate

View from the palace, over the plateau

Microphone

Elevation.  Day after Easter and still hasn't touched the ground

Heavy Competition for Christ

I was told the Spanish hate cowboys