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.
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