hey there, folks I'm in a swanky Gucci-infested hotel restaurant in Düsseldorf, attending a blog-meet. The place is pretty swanky, if I'm any kind of judge, and the German version of Forbes, Handelsblatt, is picking up the tab.

If I can offer any kind of advice to the emerging blogger scene here in Germany it would be this: No open bar, kids. It'll bust you. This isn't little league we're talking about here.

I'm on the road today, in beautiful Düsseldorf, visiting a blog-reading for the largest five or six blogs in Germany. For some reason, they won't be reading from mine, probably because I tend to use the word 'twat' too much for German society.

No matter, as with a little ingenuity one can ruin any gathering. My baby and I will be sure to load up on Altbier and curry-wurst before loping into the seminar dressed as suicided bombers. It is Karneval, after all.

I'll be filing a report from the Düsseldorf hoosegow tomorry.

While traveling abroad with my broad last spring, we headed down to south Georgia, in preparation for the Wreckyll in Jeckyll. We made a stop in the beautiful city of Savannah, so I could show my baby one of the South's true highlights, the River St. Saloon District.

At the end of the evening, we found ourselves in a sports bar, eating excellent pizza and enjoying our last drinks for the evening. When we were through eating, and getting ready to head back to the hotel, I happened to see a few familiar faces on the wall. Upon closer inspection, they turned out to be photographs of my old ice hockey team at Georgia Tech.

Luckily, there weren't any pictures from the years I'd played: It would have been a little too weird to take my German girlfriend to the States, into a bar that I'd never been in, one that's about a 6 hour drive from my hometown, and find a picture of myself on the wall. Nevertheless, a bit of googlin' brought me to the Georgia Tech Hockey Club's alumni pages, where the legend of Rube lives on, if only in mockery and contempt.

1990-1991

FRONT ROW (L to R): Jim Clay, Rob McConnel, Mark Goggans, Scott Anderson, Rick Norwood, Eric Williams [me], Steve Kessler 2nd ROW (L to R): Chris Ciovacco, Craig Leduc, Jim McConville, Mark Liebold, Fredrik Nilson, Joeseph Slater, Van Oleson, McAvoy Not Pictured: Chuck Shendl, Jim Meehan, Sean Wallace

1993-1994



FRONT ROW (L to R): Mark Stone, Steve Fischer, Dan Cnarich, Scott Anderson 2nd ROW (L to R): Coach Greg Stathis, A.J. Josyln, Victor Martinez, Albee Stein, Jim Meehan, Jonathan Su, Rob McConnell 3rd ROW Troy Jamison, James Scheider, John Krueger, Niclas Arvberger, Kevin Lemke, Eric Williams [me], Timo Lumikko, Fredrik Nilsson, Brian Holcombe, Dean Stahman, Dan Carlin 4TH ROW (L to R): Harrel Blatt, Edward Gallant, Jim Cowee, Mark Leibold, Van Oleson, Chuck Schendl. Not Pictured: Chris McConnel, Phil Stewart

Man, I sucked.

Every day, I find myself getting the giggles a little bit sooner, and a little bit longer. I'm with Ace on this one. I'm just going to start watching videos of Muslim Outrage™ with the sound turned down, and Benny Hill music playing.

The awesomest part will be when the hot Islamamama's skirt blows up in the air, revealing long legs, fishnet stockings, and a very surprised-looking Jackie Wright.

Beer doesn't make you fat. It's the pretzels. Give it a rest already, fatboy.

The Warsteiner slogan, "eine Königin unter den Bieren" means, "a Queen among beers", implying a non-flattering relationship to Budweiser.

When trying to sound debonair, please don't say that Warsteiner is the best german beer. It's not even the best german beer in America. Löwenbräu is actually very good in Germany, but I don't remember ever drinking it in the States.

Germans in Rhineland drink beer in little 0.2-liter glasses, which is less than a coffee cup. Further calling their masculinity into question, if you get a Pils in a Rhineland, they put a little paper skirt on it.

In Austria, you get a long pint(0.5-liter), which is called "a half-beer".

A "Radler" is a 1:1 mixture of Helles Bier with Limo, which is pretty much Sprite. A Radler is also German slang for a cyclist.

The best German beers come from Bavaria. Warsteiner is a german Pils, which is a Czech type of beer.

In Europe, the Czechs have a better reputation as beer-brewers than the Germans.

Indeed, not all german beers are good. Altbier, favored in Düsseldorf and the surrounding areas, tastes like rancid pus. Astra, the favored brand in Hamburg, tastes like Miller Lite from a can. Horrible stuff.

PBR has more alcohol than most german beers; about the same as Pils. But it has no taste at all, that I can discern.

The best Pils is Pilsner Urquell, so I am told, and it is mighty tasty. Pilsner Urquell on tap in a Czech back-alley pivnice is the quintessential beer-drinking experience.

For a real treat, try Kaltenberger Helles, if you can find it. This is, indeed, the Best German Beer.

Other good German beers are Schwarzbräu Exquisit, Augusta Bräu, and Burgerbräu.

Beer snobbery is stupid and unoriginal. Not all American beers are bad. Budweiser, for example, is a very good beer for hot weather, or after athletics. For the price, it's probably the best American beer going. It's got its own ricy flavor, and no bad aftertaste. And it'll get you drunk. Good 'n' drunk. Blotto.

Absinthe tastes like Ben-Gay smells.

Whiskey is a good alternative to beer.

Jack Daniels is not bad, and it's also not bourbon.

Wild Turkey is a good bourbon.

Getting drunk on expensive scotch makes you look like an ignorant prole who just got paid and wants to impress people. Get drunk on Wild Turkey to show you have real class.

When you're drunk on whiskey, you're not as clumsy and incoherent as with beer.

Whiskey-dick, however, is no myth.

If you're a fast drinker like I am, mix whiskey 1:3 with water. But make sure it's tap water, as whiskey doesn't mix well with mineral water.

cribbed from my Fark profile