The Long-Awaited Return

Alright, so I'm back. I got a text from my dad today urging that I do an update.

Let that sink in.

My dad, the man from whose balls I ejaculated, wants me to write another one of these.

Scroll up.

You see the post about the toilets? Yeah... Would you want your parents reading that? I mean, like in general... Would you want your parents to know that such a person existed out there in the world, a kind of person who speaks so passionately about water jets and analingus from mythical creatures?

Well, both my parents read this, and both of them support me in this endeavor. Either my parents are really cool, or they have distanced themselves so far from me emotionally that I am a complete stranger, and these writings are nothing but a compilation of thoughts of some strange madman they will never know. I like to think they're pretty cool. Thanks Mom and Dad! Show your co-workers this blog, and after they read it in horrified disgust and vomit a little in their mouths, smile and point to your genitals and say, "This created that abomination." I predict an Employee-of-the-Month in your future.

So, the update. Well, to all you vapers... beware. Cigarettes are so... fucking... cheap here. Let me give you an idea. A pack of Kent Switch's (sort of like a better version of Camel Crush's) are 7 TL. That is approximately $2.50. If I smoked a pack a day, my weekly expense would be 49 TL. That is a habit of $13 a week. Are you FUCKING kidding me? Why Turkey?!

So, I smoke again. Dammit, I smoke again. $75 for buying e-juice online vs. $13 a week. I just received roughly 70 mg of e-juice. That would have to last almost two months (hahaha, are you fucking serious? of course it won't) for it to be a cheaper alternative to cigarettes.

Some of you are probably like "Well, why don't you quit?" Shut your dirty whore-mouths.

Anyway, I had my first couple of classes. Those were... interesting. I essentially took over someone who left's place on a class, and guess what? They have a writing exam next week! Yay... (I've already failed them.)

If my students learn anything though, it will be to dislike the US. Not because I'm a shitty American in Turkey, it's because I'm a shitty American in America. Shattering preconceived notions about the US is my business, and business... is-uh... uh-good. Nothing warms my heart more than seeing a Turk respond in broken English, "Maybe, Turkey is a-not so bad." Two words: student loans.

Oh, I bought my prescription medicine from a pharmacy, OVER-THE-FUCKING-COUNTER for 12 FUCKING-LIRA! That is literally $4. I got more than a week's supply. A month supply (with my insurance halving the price) was more than $50, and in order to get it, I needed an appointment (another $50) and needed to pay insurance monthly ($201/month). In short, I love this fucking country.

Oh! I can count in Turkish, now. So... Turkish ladies, watch out and don't stand in groups... I can count how many of you fine ladies are in the group. Are your loins frothy yet?

Whether your straight, gay, bi, pan, or even sexually attracted to garden gnomes, the image of frothy loins is horrific. I imagine a lady with Cujo's face (a rabid St. Bernard for those who aren't familiar with Mr. King's timeless tale) between her legs... and now so do you.

Along the same lines, here's an interesting video for you guys.

Moral of the story: I'm learning Turkish... Wow, that was a tangent.

Anything else... anything else... My roommates are pretty groovy. Shania Twain (the British Turk-kess) and Funk Master Flex (the Canadian guy) are good folks. Barbara Streisand (FUCK YOUR CONSISTENCY) is a big help when it comes to learning Turkish, but I don't approve of her English. It's soooooo... English-y. She's also really pretty (no pics, guys... I'd have to explain way too much to her, and she might read this. SHE MUST NEVER READ THIS.) . Reverend Run (yep, it's a early hip-hop theme) is an introvert, but fucking hilarious. He makes me French toast and pancakes sometimes. Keep in mind he is Canadian. Yeah... I essentially have a Breakfast Sorcerer trained in the Dark Arts of Syrup at my disposal.

Oh, and guns. In Turkey, not many people have guns. Very few in fact. You would think that- stop right there, crime is very low in this city of 13 million. Yeah, 13 million. For the first six months of 2012, there were 112 murders... out of 13 MILLION FUCKIN' PEOPLE. Atlanta, what was you're total during the same time? Atlanta, you had 83 murders for the entire year of 2012; just Atlanta, not metro Atlanta. Let's half that number, and I'll round down. 41 murders out of a city population of 437,041. Sure, Istanbul had 3x the murders, but it has about 30x the population. Let that sink in... that is a big-ass city, and that big-ass city only had 112 murders in six months in 2012... you know what wouldn't help... guns. Guns wouldn't help at all. I'm not saying Atlanta or any other American city's murder rate is solely because of guns (our worship of the individual and lack of community/empathy for our fellow citizen may play some role as well), but you cannot say that guns make anyone safer. Oh, and the meme about Switzerland... let's see....

There it is!!!

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, about that...

First off... what do you mean crime rate? Violent crime? Homicides? Non-violent crimes? Theft? Fraud? You really think that Switzerland... doesn't have... a problem... with fraud? If you look up the word "tax evasion," there is a picture of Switzerland boning the Cayman Islands!

But, let's just focus on death by guns. Fair?

Oh.
Well, go fucking figure. Who saw Switzerland being number two? That doesn't seem like the lowest crime rate in the world. Oh, you mean the meme lied to you? How old are you? Stop it, stop it now. You are an adult, sir/madame. Have some goddamn self-respect. What I put is verifiable information. It is from the Independant, a British newspaper, who have in turn provided their own source of their data. What's you source, again? Oh, that's right a picture of a ginger 20-something and her twat friend riding bicycles with assault rifles on their backs. Are they in Switzerland? "I don't know," you say, "but they are both white, so it must be." Who said that Switzerland has the lowest crime rate? "The almighty white capital letters say it," you exclaim. "They always speak truth!"

...well, that like your opinion, man...

Here's the fucked up part... it isn't my opinion. My opinion is to get rid of handguns. The fact is that Switzerland (a developed nation with the 2nd-highest gun ownership RATE) has the 2nd-highest murder-by-gun RATE out of all the developed nations. Then, I go on and berate you for learning anything from a meme. How does that feel?.... the chapstick is in bathroom. Apply it to your ass.

So... that's it for now. Um... Yeah.

It's been almost two weeks here...

Ah yes, two weeks here in Turkey. Hopefully, none of you fuckers have forgotten me. So now, I guess I should give you some advice or information about living in Turkey or traveling the world. Well, fear not, my darlings. Papa (yes, that's what I called myself) has some answers.

Toilets.

Let that sink in. You're probably like "What the fuck does he mean, 'toilets?'" Shut your face, and listen.

Toilets here are nothing short of spectacular. You see, they have little fountains in the back of the bowl... and no, you can't shit on the fountain. Unless you have a really protruded and crooked anus, you can't shit on the fountain spout. Why would you want to do that anyway. God, typical you!

So, there is a nob on the wall next to the toilet that hooks up to a hose that, in turn, hooks up to the toilet. This nob is your friend.

Now, I don't care if you're straight or gay or bisexual or sexually attracted to turtles. When a jet of water shoots you in the anus, you sit there and enjoy it. YOU ENJOY IT HARD, GODDAMMIT! You know those dookies that are infinity wipers. Ladies, I'll allow you to plea the fifth, but everyone should know what I'm talking about. You wipe and wipe and wipe, but every time you wipe, you get a fresh streak of doo-doo. You know what makes that easier? A FUCKING WATER JET IN YOUR BUTTHOLE, THAT'S WHAT!

However, this technology is not perfect. You have to do a slight trial-and-error with your seated position in order for it to be of maximum efficiency. Ladies, this may not be so bad for you guys. Why? I'll explain later. Now, guys, there is always the chance it will hit you square in the balls. If it's low enough, it won't hurt... but trust me, it can hurt you. As you squirm to shield your giblets from Gyrados's Hydro Pump, there is also the unfortunate side effect of the water shooting out of the toilet and onto the back of your pants. When you first use this marvelous contraption, this may happen to you, but in no time, you'll be an expert in sitting just right so that Poseidon (or his toilet-equivalent) will rim you out when you need it most.

As I said to the ladies before, you don't have to worry about this. The worst that'll happen is you might get off accidentally. I know the sound of a surprise orgasm terrifies you, but I'm sure all of you will manage just fine.

However, all of you must use this awe-inspiring invention in moderation. Remember, you're in control. Do not lose yourself in the ecstasy of having water nymphs tongue-fucking your anus. Many a good man has lost his way. It's kinda like that mirror in the first Harry Potter... but instead of showing you what you desire most, it reveals that all you really wanted was to be anally penetrated by the weird aliens from the movie The Abyss. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go ahead and google it right now. I'll wait...

You back yet? Are you sure you saw the right picture... wait a sec... let me check. SUMMONING GOOGLE!

...



This one right here! This is the one I'm talking about. IT'S MADE OF WATER!

So... yeah... I got a little distracted looking for that Abyss alien...

Oh right! The toilets!... Actually, that's it. I don't really have any more information about these wonderful things... Heh...

Some of you may be wondering about standard of living here (here being Turkey, in case you forgot). It isn't much different from the US to be honest. I mean, there are more Roma (Gypsies) here. They try to hand you flowers and talk to you, and you just smile awkwardly because they've only memorized a few lines in Turkish that they keep repeating and you can't tell them you don't understand. Then, you give another Roma lady money on the street where you live, and this little Roma girl follows you to the gate of your apartment building while carrying her baby brother, and she repeats the same line in Turkish over and over again, and you try saying no in every language you know, and this continues for five minutes or more until she walks away giving you the evil eye. Yeah, but other than that, it's comparable to the US.

For my AA friends, there are English-speaking meetings. Most of the people that go are tourists, but there is a solid expat community too. One lady who has lived here for eleven years was telling me how it was to live here. She said that she thought she'd pick up Turkish by living here but she hasn't at all. Then, she followed that by saying that living here really makes you appreciate the freedoms you have in the US. I found this puzzling. I asked her which freedoms she was talking about. She listed Freedom of Speech, Freedom of Expression, and Freedom of the Press... My next logical question (I didn't say this, mind you. I had just met this woman. No need to let her know how snarky I can be. She will learn eventually.) was how would she even know that. She can't read or speak Turkish. How the hell would she even know if people can't say, publish, or do as they like? I have since talked to a few English-speaking Turks, and everyone of them felt personally insulted by such a suggestion. In fact, one (my roommate Hakuna Matata: the British-Turk) said that over here protesters get arrested for punching a cop, but they are usually just beat up, held for a couple hours in jail, and let go. So, let's do an experiment. One of my American readers need to punch a cop. You guys can elect one from yourselves. Sock the cop, and then report back with what happens. We can wait however long is your sentence. Smell that... that's freedom.

Anyway, more updates next week... or time... or whatever.

Moving to Istanbul

So, I'll be frank with all of you. I'm a little late on this shit. I'm already in Istanbul. I know, I know. You wanted the man before the trip. You wanted to know my expectations and hopes. You wanted to read about my uncontained excitement, my worries, my thoughts of what life will be like, so on and so on. Sorry to disappoint (I usually say that after I have sex with someone. Aren't you lucky?)

No, I am already in Istanbul, typing away at my computer. I've been here for a week. I never said I don't procrastinate.

So, what is the purpose of this fine blog, I hear you asking me through your screen. Number one, stop talking to your screen... I can't hear you. Number two, I am self-important. Number three, I am so self-important that I have decided to list my self-importance as two separate reasons for this blog...

Okay, so I'm going to stop numbering my reasons... That got old fast.

The purpose of this blog is so many of you can live vicariously through me, much like my dad did when I was playing baseball as a kid. The jokes on him; he got to relive bitter failure and disappointment... Hopefully, my kid won't do the same to me when I live vicariously through him (he will).

Now, there may be some of you who want to follow in my footsteps. I don't know why, but you do. Maybe, it's because you want to experience adventure, see new places, meet people in far away lands. Maybe, you're following my footsteps in order to sneak up on me and fuck me in the butt. Please, don't do that. I will shit on your dick. It isn't because I won't like it. I just scare easily... as well as shit easily. Let's avoid this scenario.

Where was I? Why would I even type that... I literally just need to stop typing and look up at this entry. But in the words of my father, "Fuck that." I actually don't believe I've ever heard my dad say that. I'm sorry for lying to you for comedic purposes. Moving on...

I arrived in Istanbul last week. If you ever want to travel overseas, use this website. It's Indian... so you know it's cheap... I'm sorry Indian readers, but please don't be offended. I admire your perseverance in getting the best deals. At least, you're not like white people. They'll cheat you out of your money and make it legal... I'm sorry white readers, but please don't be offended. I admire you consistent lack of humanity in your pursuit of capital. Now, could you please stop raising the rent on my shitty apartment every year. Nothing has gotten better. In fact, it's gotten worse. I can't even use my bathroom because one of the rats uses it as a weight room. I mean, it's paid off; he is fucking ripped.

After arriving at Istanbul and frantically looking for one of my bags (surprise! it was still in England), I was hurried into an apartment by a tired Turk (it was 1 in the morning). He pointed to a room and said it was mine. It was a little weird because there was another suitcase at the foot of the bed. It was lying on the floor open, showing its contents (surprise! there were panties!). Either someone lived in this room still, or I just got the weirdest welcome gift in the world (I went with the latter.). After traveling for two days and only having three hours of sleep, I collapsed into the bed and passed out.

When I awoke, there were five other people in my apartment. Two would be my new roommates, a Canadian guy and a Turkish-English woman. Their real names will remain anonymous, so I will call them Harpo and Flan, respectively. They must never read this...

I'm going to hate myself in the future for giving them codenames. I'm never going to remember them. I'll keep referring back to this post just to keep consistent in my posts. You know what? FUCK CONSISTENCY!

So, Groucho and Marzipan are my two roommates, and sleeping on the couch were two others. One was Fitzroy (not his real name), a Brazilian-American from New Jersey, and Sparkle-tits, a Canadian girl from the Arctic Circle (you know, Toronto). Apparently, it was Sparkle-tits's room that I had stolen. She was moving out the next day. I felt no remorse. She'll never find her missing panties, either.

Now, that's only four. Five if you count me, but I had said there were five others, and that would bring the total to six. No, there wasn't a ghost. Apparently, Scone had brought a Turkish friend over after Sparkle-tits's going-away party (I'm a little bitter that I wasn't invited). I don't remember the Turkish girl's name whom Toaster Strudel had over because I've never seen her again. We will call her Operation Shakestorm. As soon as Operation Shakestorm woke up, she left. Bye, Operation Shakestorm.

Now onto other things, so I can avoid cleaning my apartment for Dulce de Leche's sister to visit.

Phones and Interwebs! Internet is good here. No porn... or so they thought... VPNs are you friend. Get one before you leave and iron out the connection issues. Mine doesn't work on my computer, but that why God invented tablets. As for phones, just buy a Turkish SIM card at the airport. It's cheap, but make sure you get your phone unlocked before you come here (or anywhere, really). I'll give you more updates on the phone business later if you're planning to stay longer.

Oh! And for my vapers! There is nowhere in Istanbul to buy e-juice or batteries or supplies. Either quit or pick up smoking again because cigarettes are way cheaper here, and EVERYONE SMOKES.

That's it for now. Ta-dah. More to come.