Last Friday night was glooooooorious. (this was taking place before the dinner… sorry the chronology of these stories is all screwed up).
At one point I had two people supposed to stay the night on Friday and neither of them ended up coming. This turned out to be a good thing. Neither French guy nor ll were home either, so I could do as I please without fear. The dog was here, but no ll in sight. The dog that "has a better life than you and me combined". Luckily it didn't barf or shit anywhere like it had a few weeks ago so all was good in the hood.
Eventually French guy came home but I was already getting ready for bed. ll came a bit later and took the dog for a walk.
He comes back, nothing special. I do hear him tell the dog, “I don’t give a fuck WHERE you sleep, just stay away from me!” Quite shocking to hear, since he takes better care of his dog than he does himself, which I guess isn’t saying much. Then again he tells his boyfriend that he’s not welcome in the apartment, and calls his best friend a ‘white piece of shit’. No wonder he’s an alky – he has to deal with his drunken mistakes somehow – by getting drunk again of course! It all makes sense now…
I hear ll turn on the TV, telling the dog that they hadn’t ‘hung out in a while’. Hahahaha… just like an old friend. Except I’m pretty sure the dog is more interested in licking his own testicles than watching Dutch HGTV. Then that external monologue flares up (did I call it dialogue before??). It seems that they had a run-in with the law on their little walk. This was confirmed when he tried to call a few people to explain the situation.
From what I heard, he was walking the dog who didn’t have his leash on. He was running ahead, sniffing things as dogs do, when several bicycle cops approached him. He then found himself by ’20 people’ (cops), asking for his ID and being pretty aggressive. They didn’t believe that he was with a dog at all. He told me at dinner that he guessed someone maybe called the police, because there was a creepy black man snooping around the neighborhood in the middle of the night. He said he got to the point where he just ‘gave up’. In the telephone version, he had been wrestled to the ground, which ‘humiliated him’. That part of the story was absent in the restaurant version. Also absent in the restaurant version was the helicopter flying overhead and him believing he would be on the news and/or YouTube.
A lady cop saw his dog and asked if it was his. He said that the dog looked terrified and wouldn’t come near ll because it was freaky. The way he made it sound like on the phone, I can only imagine it was like a scene out of cops, with ll running through a field and getting tackled by police, filmed from a helicopter that was shining a spotlight on him. Eventually he got the dog and the cops threw his passport back at him. ll picked up the dog and carried him two blocks home. In the telephone version, the cops stole his 400 euro bike, the one he washed in the shower. His friend back in the states said he was just lucky he wasn’t in California, because the police would have just shot him. Apparently friend was laughing at the whole story and ll got really P Oed.
Then the REAL fun began. ll went to Victor’s room (I think I already used his name, and you can see my face in the fucking mirror as my friend from the internship pointed out, DAMN), who I’m sure heard the whole story just as I had. ll knocked on the door and asked to talk – around 1 or 1:30.
Victor said, in a really sympathetic, almost patronizing voice, “Oh sure Art, come in.”
“I need to get my bike back! They took my bike! IT cost me a lot of money! I can’t let them have it! I mean…” ll was pretty much in hysterics and wasn’t making any sense.
“OK calm down, just tell me what happened.”ll basically tried to repeat the story but he left most of the key plot elements out, and it still sounded like nonsense.
“Wait. I don’t understand what happened.”
“WHAT?! VICTOR!! Just listen to me!” (again, nonsense)
“I don’t understand what you’re telling me. I was not there, I don’t get it.”
“Oh my GOD, are you kidding me?! Are you listening to what I’m telling you?!”
“I wasn’t there, I was sleeping.”
(Again, nonsense)
“So basically they asked for your passport – you got scared and the dog got scared, now you’re here. I don’t get the point.”
“VICTOR, I’m gonna throw up all over you. Are you kidding me? No.. no… Victor STAND UP!”
“No!”
“Don’t you get it?! You know what? You know what? MOVE OUT. GET UP. I WANT YOU GONE. I WANT YOU TO MOVE OUT!”
“No I’m sleeping.”
“This is MY bed and this is MY apartment and I want you to GET OUT!”
“I pay, I pay!”
“I can’t deal with your bullshit anymore, you insensitive asshole. I want you out of here in 72 hours, do you understand?”
“GET OUT! GET OUT!!”
***
When ll had first started his hysterics, he said out loud, to himself:
“Oh my God. I was just raped by a whole country.”
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Fine Dining Part II
As ll waited at the bar to order his bottle, he overheard something interesting in a conversation between 3 or 4 Dutch guys in suits. He got pretty curious and leaned over several times to look at one of their faces from behind the guy's shoulder. He was leaning wayyyyy over, and it looked fucking bizarre with his neck craned like that, especially because I'm sure the guy saw him. He then took it upon himself to interject in the conversation, but thanks the good lords their table was ready and they left before he could do significant damage. He finally ordered the bottle of wine and then went to the bathroom, leaving me to leaf through a magazine in Dutch. Yay. I should also mention he kept touching my arm as if we were actually "together", and was acting a lot gayer than usual. Disaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaster, seriously.
After he came back from the bathroom a waiter brought over the bottle of wine. The guy asked if one of us wanted to try it, and of course ll made me do it. Like I said, I don't know if wine is meant to be consumed, and like I said I looked like gutter trash, so it must have been pretty funny to see me swirling around a glass of wine, smelling it, tasting it, and saying that it was 'good'. ll was being a total ass to the waiter, and everyone else as well, meaning the woman he ordered from, the waitress, and the host. Totally unacceptable behavior. Then we had to sit there for probably 10 minutes with a bottle of wine in between us. There must have been 100 or 200 people in the place, and I felt like they were all looking at us.
Eventually we got our place, wedged at the end of a table where 3 guys in business suits were already sitting. Horrifying. Throughout the night ll would glance over at them, but thankfully he did not make any attempt to establish contact with them. When it came time to order, ll said 'get anything you want!' Score!! The food was delicious, as expected. I had pumpkin soup followed by tuna tartare. I had no idea what tuna tartare actually was, but I highly recommend it. The conversation was more or less 'normal' for ll standards. He told the story from another night (which I didn't blog about yet - it involved the police and his dog) and also a splendid tale about him getting drunk at his boyfriend's birthday dinner in a D&G suit. He also asked me again if I was dating someone in Amsterdam. The answer was no, as I told him before. He said he didn't believe me, because he had 'spies' around the city. He claimed these 'friends' of his would tell him, "Guess where I saw Randall last night..." The thing is that I never met any of his friends, and I don't know if he even has any, except for his boyfriend and his ex boyfriend, who are both hardly in Amsterdam. And I certainly never saw either of them outside the apartment. Oooooooookay...
At one point during the meal I needed to use the ladies' room to powder my nose, so I excused myself from the table. ll told me to hurry, because he wanted to smoke a cigarette. I went to the bathroom, and as I walked back to the table I saw that he was gone. There was literally no one sitting at the table except the three guys, who probably thought we were trying to skip the bill. Seriously, who does that? I wouldn't leave the table empty if I was eating at Red Lobster. And on top of that, who leaves in the middle of a nice dinner to go smoke a cigarette?? Classy...
I got to the table before him and he thought it would be a good idea to sit down next to me. Jesus. H. Christ. Clearly I was very uncomfortable, and I began to scan the room for someone sympathetic to my plight to lock eyes with me, so I could telepathically convey how mortified I was. He said he wanted to people watch with me. Which would have been just awesome, you know.
Eventually it came time to pay. ll handed me 150 euros and told me that I needed to ask for the bill, in Dutch. I don't know if I made this clear or not, but I don't speak Dutch. I can say hi, which is 'hoi', and thank you. But that's the extent. It's really an unnecessary language. So ll tried to teach me how to say it as if I were a 5 year old child. Chaaaaarming. Then it came for me to actually use it. I did tell the waitress, 'de rekening alstublieft'. Her reply was, "what?". I then said, "Can we have the bill please?"
She said sure and started to walk away. Then ll grabbed her arm and said, "Wait, wait, I don't think she heard you." The waitress was super weirded out. My face immediately turned red, because it was fucking embarrassing and all. I said, "Can we have the bill please?". ll then repeated the Dutch phrase a few times, laughing to himself. The waitress gave an awkward smile and walked away. Probably a bit confused, and a little frightened. Thankfully I was able to just leave the cash on the little... tray thing, so it didn't appear as if I had paid for the meal (the point of that being??). For good measure, ll told another waitress that she had beautiful hair. Beautiful, blond, curly Dutch hair. KILL ME. Although it wasn't a total loss. The tab came out to be 80 some odd euros, to which I didn't add a single dime (although I greatly feared ll would 'expect' something of me later).
I don't know why I accepted, but ll had offered to go and get 'coffee' at a place across the street. He said it had a really cool view, and since it was one of my last times in Amsterdam I thought it would be nice to see. Yes, I was absolutely shocked and embarrassed throughout the dinner, so I'm sure you're wondering why I would agree to this. I suppose it's the fact that I will never see these people ever again. No one will ever recognize me in Amsterdam - I don't know when or even if I'll ever come back. I really had nothing to lose. I have no ounce of dignity left, and plus I was hoping it could make for an interesting story. Plus it was a bar, where that kind of behavior is more or less anticipated.
The bar was just across the street and was actually a really amazing place. I went to the restroom as soon as we got there, and ll went to procure us some 'coffee'. I told him that they probably weren't serving coffee at 11 at night, but he didn't believe me. On the wall across from the restrooms were some really hilarious XXX themed coloring book pages. One of the funnier ones involved a microphone and the X-Factor, but I'll leave that to your imagination.
When I got back from the restroom, surprisingly... no coffee in sight! But ll had ordered 3 beers in their place. Yes, 3. I maybe drank 2 glasses of wine from that bottle and he most certainly had some before we even left the apartment. So on top of a 33 euro bottle of wine, he managed to put away 1.5 beers before I had even had half of one. Erykah Badu came on and he stood up and tried to dance to it. So bad. So so so bad. He looked like someone with a massive head/neck tick trying to balance on a surfboard during an earthquake.
ll went to have a cigarette at one point, and managed to talk to some guy who also smoking, who thought ll was hitting on him. In all likelihood he was. ll brought him back to where we were sitting. He put up with about 5 minutes of ranting before he asked to use one of our phones because his was dead, and then he left. I really don't blame him. ll then ordered a rum and coke and a carbonated water. He poured the coke and rum in a glass and then said the bottle was for me, but I was already drinking the water. So he splashed some rum in the water - yummy. Totally confused, but I guess that's what happens when someone gets shitfaced. He then suggested we go to Lellebell, the tranny bar he took me to on my first night. It would have made my time in Amsterdam come full circle, to start and end my time at a tranny bar. As appealing as that sounded, I would have preferred to chew my own fingernails off. Before we left he said, "I think I'm gonna throw up".
When we came down to the lobby he started yelling something about people with AIDS go this way, and people with cancer go that way. He was really yelling at this point, being belligerent and stumbling about. I was just trying to get out of the door because there were people about. The security guard looked very, very concerned. He put my hands on my shoulders to stop me and make me look, but I was not having it. I did look into the eyes of the guard as a cry for help, but he didn't get out of his chair. Sad. Once we made it through the front doors, he said, "Doesn't it look like a hospital?"
I told him to point me in the direction of home and I took off on my bike as fast as I possibly could have, after shaking hands with him. He went in the other direction. I have no clue where he intended on going, and I didn't care. Of course as I scrambled home I laughed the entire way. What a night.... However, I knew it probably wasn't over. I was sure that ll would check to make sure I made it home, so I went straight to bed and tried to go to sleep. He arrived about 5 minutes after I had gotten into bed. Before I could fall asleep, as I expected, he came and opened my door. He called my name a few times and I pretended to wake up.
He asked, "Did you see anyone put anything in my pocket?" (Also, not sure if I've mentioned before, he gives himself a slight English accent when he gets toasted. He's never lived in England, I'm sure he just picked it up from television like the rest of us Americans).
I wonder to myself, what the fuck kind of question is that? Why now? When I'm sleeping?
"I found 2,000 euros in 10 euro bills in my jacket."
At this point I can't help but laugh. He looked really concerned about the whole thing, but I don't know what the problem was. If I found 2,000 euros in my jacket I would be fucking celebrating, not investigating where it came from. He was also completely wrecked, so I'm sure he miscounted. I'm really surprised he was even able to ride his bicycle back home at all.
"I only got 150 from the ATM... I don't know where it came from. I checked my jacket -- there's no drugs, no drugs"
"Where did you go after I left?"
He didn't answer the question, and continued to wonder out loud where the money came from. He wasn't even looking at me, he was staring at the wall. It was almost like he was having a conversation to himself, I just happened to be there. Throughout the conversation I'm whispering, and he's using a normal speaking voice. He keeps telling me to "shhh", though. Eventually he said, "It's ok, go to sleep booboo."
Yes... go to sleep booboo, go to sleep.
The next morning he gave me 100 euros of my deposit back in 10 euro bills.
After he came back from the bathroom a waiter brought over the bottle of wine. The guy asked if one of us wanted to try it, and of course ll made me do it. Like I said, I don't know if wine is meant to be consumed, and like I said I looked like gutter trash, so it must have been pretty funny to see me swirling around a glass of wine, smelling it, tasting it, and saying that it was 'good'. ll was being a total ass to the waiter, and everyone else as well, meaning the woman he ordered from, the waitress, and the host. Totally unacceptable behavior. Then we had to sit there for probably 10 minutes with a bottle of wine in between us. There must have been 100 or 200 people in the place, and I felt like they were all looking at us.
Eventually we got our place, wedged at the end of a table where 3 guys in business suits were already sitting. Horrifying. Throughout the night ll would glance over at them, but thankfully he did not make any attempt to establish contact with them. When it came time to order, ll said 'get anything you want!' Score!! The food was delicious, as expected. I had pumpkin soup followed by tuna tartare. I had no idea what tuna tartare actually was, but I highly recommend it. The conversation was more or less 'normal' for ll standards. He told the story from another night (which I didn't blog about yet - it involved the police and his dog) and also a splendid tale about him getting drunk at his boyfriend's birthday dinner in a D&G suit. He also asked me again if I was dating someone in Amsterdam. The answer was no, as I told him before. He said he didn't believe me, because he had 'spies' around the city. He claimed these 'friends' of his would tell him, "Guess where I saw Randall last night..." The thing is that I never met any of his friends, and I don't know if he even has any, except for his boyfriend and his ex boyfriend, who are both hardly in Amsterdam. And I certainly never saw either of them outside the apartment. Oooooooookay...
At one point during the meal I needed to use the ladies' room to powder my nose, so I excused myself from the table. ll told me to hurry, because he wanted to smoke a cigarette. I went to the bathroom, and as I walked back to the table I saw that he was gone. There was literally no one sitting at the table except the three guys, who probably thought we were trying to skip the bill. Seriously, who does that? I wouldn't leave the table empty if I was eating at Red Lobster. And on top of that, who leaves in the middle of a nice dinner to go smoke a cigarette?? Classy...
I got to the table before him and he thought it would be a good idea to sit down next to me. Jesus. H. Christ. Clearly I was very uncomfortable, and I began to scan the room for someone sympathetic to my plight to lock eyes with me, so I could telepathically convey how mortified I was. He said he wanted to people watch with me. Which would have been just awesome, you know.
Eventually it came time to pay. ll handed me 150 euros and told me that I needed to ask for the bill, in Dutch. I don't know if I made this clear or not, but I don't speak Dutch. I can say hi, which is 'hoi', and thank you. But that's the extent. It's really an unnecessary language. So ll tried to teach me how to say it as if I were a 5 year old child. Chaaaaarming. Then it came for me to actually use it. I did tell the waitress, 'de rekening alstublieft'. Her reply was, "what?". I then said, "Can we have the bill please?"
She said sure and started to walk away. Then ll grabbed her arm and said, "Wait, wait, I don't think she heard you." The waitress was super weirded out. My face immediately turned red, because it was fucking embarrassing and all. I said, "Can we have the bill please?". ll then repeated the Dutch phrase a few times, laughing to himself. The waitress gave an awkward smile and walked away. Probably a bit confused, and a little frightened. Thankfully I was able to just leave the cash on the little... tray thing, so it didn't appear as if I had paid for the meal (the point of that being??). For good measure, ll told another waitress that she had beautiful hair. Beautiful, blond, curly Dutch hair. KILL ME. Although it wasn't a total loss. The tab came out to be 80 some odd euros, to which I didn't add a single dime (although I greatly feared ll would 'expect' something of me later).
I don't know why I accepted, but ll had offered to go and get 'coffee' at a place across the street. He said it had a really cool view, and since it was one of my last times in Amsterdam I thought it would be nice to see. Yes, I was absolutely shocked and embarrassed throughout the dinner, so I'm sure you're wondering why I would agree to this. I suppose it's the fact that I will never see these people ever again. No one will ever recognize me in Amsterdam - I don't know when or even if I'll ever come back. I really had nothing to lose. I have no ounce of dignity left, and plus I was hoping it could make for an interesting story. Plus it was a bar, where that kind of behavior is more or less anticipated.
The bar was just across the street and was actually a really amazing place. I went to the restroom as soon as we got there, and ll went to procure us some 'coffee'. I told him that they probably weren't serving coffee at 11 at night, but he didn't believe me. On the wall across from the restrooms were some really hilarious XXX themed coloring book pages. One of the funnier ones involved a microphone and the X-Factor, but I'll leave that to your imagination.
When I got back from the restroom, surprisingly... no coffee in sight! But ll had ordered 3 beers in their place. Yes, 3. I maybe drank 2 glasses of wine from that bottle and he most certainly had some before we even left the apartment. So on top of a 33 euro bottle of wine, he managed to put away 1.5 beers before I had even had half of one. Erykah Badu came on and he stood up and tried to dance to it. So bad. So so so bad. He looked like someone with a massive head/neck tick trying to balance on a surfboard during an earthquake.
ll went to have a cigarette at one point, and managed to talk to some guy who also smoking, who thought ll was hitting on him. In all likelihood he was. ll brought him back to where we were sitting. He put up with about 5 minutes of ranting before he asked to use one of our phones because his was dead, and then he left. I really don't blame him. ll then ordered a rum and coke and a carbonated water. He poured the coke and rum in a glass and then said the bottle was for me, but I was already drinking the water. So he splashed some rum in the water - yummy. Totally confused, but I guess that's what happens when someone gets shitfaced. He then suggested we go to Lellebell, the tranny bar he took me to on my first night. It would have made my time in Amsterdam come full circle, to start and end my time at a tranny bar. As appealing as that sounded, I would have preferred to chew my own fingernails off. Before we left he said, "I think I'm gonna throw up".
When we came down to the lobby he started yelling something about people with AIDS go this way, and people with cancer go that way. He was really yelling at this point, being belligerent and stumbling about. I was just trying to get out of the door because there were people about. The security guard looked very, very concerned. He put my hands on my shoulders to stop me and make me look, but I was not having it. I did look into the eyes of the guard as a cry for help, but he didn't get out of his chair. Sad. Once we made it through the front doors, he said, "Doesn't it look like a hospital?"
I told him to point me in the direction of home and I took off on my bike as fast as I possibly could have, after shaking hands with him. He went in the other direction. I have no clue where he intended on going, and I didn't care. Of course as I scrambled home I laughed the entire way. What a night.... However, I knew it probably wasn't over. I was sure that ll would check to make sure I made it home, so I went straight to bed and tried to go to sleep. He arrived about 5 minutes after I had gotten into bed. Before I could fall asleep, as I expected, he came and opened my door. He called my name a few times and I pretended to wake up.
He asked, "Did you see anyone put anything in my pocket?" (Also, not sure if I've mentioned before, he gives himself a slight English accent when he gets toasted. He's never lived in England, I'm sure he just picked it up from television like the rest of us Americans).
I wonder to myself, what the fuck kind of question is that? Why now? When I'm sleeping?
"I found 2,000 euros in 10 euro bills in my jacket."
At this point I can't help but laugh. He looked really concerned about the whole thing, but I don't know what the problem was. If I found 2,000 euros in my jacket I would be fucking celebrating, not investigating where it came from. He was also completely wrecked, so I'm sure he miscounted. I'm really surprised he was even able to ride his bicycle back home at all.
"I only got 150 from the ATM... I don't know where it came from. I checked my jacket -- there's no drugs, no drugs"
"Where did you go after I left?"
He didn't answer the question, and continued to wonder out loud where the money came from. He wasn't even looking at me, he was staring at the wall. It was almost like he was having a conversation to himself, I just happened to be there. Throughout the conversation I'm whispering, and he's using a normal speaking voice. He keeps telling me to "shhh", though. Eventually he said, "It's ok, go to sleep booboo."
Yes... go to sleep booboo, go to sleep.
The next morning he gave me 100 euros of my deposit back in 10 euro bills.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Fine dining with *** ******
Last week chez ll. Sad times, sad times.
Yesterday, Monday, I came home a bit late from my internship. Around half an hour after I got home, ll sauntered over to my closet and asked if I was packing up and whatnot. I said no. About an hour after that, he came over again and asked if I had eaten anything yet. I said no, thinking that he would offer me some grub. For an alcoholic, ll is a really good cook in fact. He doesn't always have 5-finger dinners. But then he asked if I wanted to go to a restaurant. I said sure, why not. He was being friendly (so he had probably had some wine), but he wasn't to the point of being.. sloppy yet. It was also my last week here, and I didn't have any desire to cook. The guy also put me up in his home, not knowing if I was lying about having my wallet stolen or not. I think he... might be a good guy? Deep down? Somewhere?? You have to remember as well, when I first saw pictures of ll and met him for the first time, I thought he was totally uptight and boring. If he was going to be a bore at a restaurant, I could handle that. At least I could get something to eat. I mean for God's sake, look at his profile picture on facebook:
My GRANDMOTHER has a similar picture, although she doesn't look half as douchey as this guy.
He told me to look at the menu online, but my computer was having some problems. So I asked if I could use his computer, and he complied. I took a look at the menu, and I saw two gay dating sites open on his computer. I wanted to investigate further, but it was too risky with him standing behind my back. Hopefully I can check that out later... anyway. Of course he forced a glass of wine into my hand before we left, which I didn't drink. It was easy to pretend to drink in the total blackness on the balcony, without actually imbibing any alcohol.
We took our bikes to an ATM so he could get some cash, and then to the restaurant. The place was really nice, I should have known better. I looked like shit, basically. I had just gotten my haircut that morning and it looked terrible. I hadn't even brushed my hair, so the texture appeared to be similar to that of a brillow pad. My clothes were equally terrible, seeing as the only reason I got up in the morning was to go to my internship, where there were no other employees, and I dressed accordingly. The restaurant was probably one of the nicest places that I've been to in my life, to be honest. And thanks to the magic of the internet, you can even take a look here, if you are so inclined: http://www.caferestaurantdauphine.nl/nl/
Most of the people there were men (and some women) in business suits. It was incredibly uncomfortable for me, looking like a homeless street urchin. I'm sure it looked even stranger, given the fact that I was accompanied by an older black man. I wondered if people thought I was a prostitute, to be honest. But not one of those high class escorts, oh no, just some scraggly whore looking to suck somebody, anybody off so I could get my next hit of crack or meth. I quickly realized that ll was drunker than I thought. Perhaps he had downed that glass of wine without me witnessing the act.
We had to wait for our table by the bar. Uh oh. He brought over the wine menu and told me to pick something. I think wine tastes like shit to be honest, if you actually hold it on your tongue and really concentrate on the flavors. I'm sure that cologne is made by a similar process, and I imagine the taste is not that unsimilar. Why he asked me, I don't know. I chose the cheapest glass of wine, thinking that I was going to have to pay for this mess by myself. He then said, "Don't look at the price". HAHAAHA. Well come to find out, ll had no intention of taking just one glass of wine (I should have known better), but we were at the BAR, not an actual table yet. At that point I knew it was going to be a long night.
Yesterday, Monday, I came home a bit late from my internship. Around half an hour after I got home, ll sauntered over to my closet and asked if I was packing up and whatnot. I said no. About an hour after that, he came over again and asked if I had eaten anything yet. I said no, thinking that he would offer me some grub. For an alcoholic, ll is a really good cook in fact. He doesn't always have 5-finger dinners. But then he asked if I wanted to go to a restaurant. I said sure, why not. He was being friendly (so he had probably had some wine), but he wasn't to the point of being.. sloppy yet. It was also my last week here, and I didn't have any desire to cook. The guy also put me up in his home, not knowing if I was lying about having my wallet stolen or not. I think he... might be a good guy? Deep down? Somewhere?? You have to remember as well, when I first saw pictures of ll and met him for the first time, I thought he was totally uptight and boring. If he was going to be a bore at a restaurant, I could handle that. At least I could get something to eat. I mean for God's sake, look at his profile picture on facebook:
My GRANDMOTHER has a similar picture, although she doesn't look half as douchey as this guy.
He told me to look at the menu online, but my computer was having some problems. So I asked if I could use his computer, and he complied. I took a look at the menu, and I saw two gay dating sites open on his computer. I wanted to investigate further, but it was too risky with him standing behind my back. Hopefully I can check that out later... anyway. Of course he forced a glass of wine into my hand before we left, which I didn't drink. It was easy to pretend to drink in the total blackness on the balcony, without actually imbibing any alcohol.
We took our bikes to an ATM so he could get some cash, and then to the restaurant. The place was really nice, I should have known better. I looked like shit, basically. I had just gotten my haircut that morning and it looked terrible. I hadn't even brushed my hair, so the texture appeared to be similar to that of a brillow pad. My clothes were equally terrible, seeing as the only reason I got up in the morning was to go to my internship, where there were no other employees, and I dressed accordingly. The restaurant was probably one of the nicest places that I've been to in my life, to be honest. And thanks to the magic of the internet, you can even take a look here, if you are so inclined: http://www.caferestaurantdauphine.nl/nl/
Most of the people there were men (and some women) in business suits. It was incredibly uncomfortable for me, looking like a homeless street urchin. I'm sure it looked even stranger, given the fact that I was accompanied by an older black man. I wondered if people thought I was a prostitute, to be honest. But not one of those high class escorts, oh no, just some scraggly whore looking to suck somebody, anybody off so I could get my next hit of crack or meth. I quickly realized that ll was drunker than I thought. Perhaps he had downed that glass of wine without me witnessing the act.
We had to wait for our table by the bar. Uh oh. He brought over the wine menu and told me to pick something. I think wine tastes like shit to be honest, if you actually hold it on your tongue and really concentrate on the flavors. I'm sure that cologne is made by a similar process, and I imagine the taste is not that unsimilar. Why he asked me, I don't know. I chose the cheapest glass of wine, thinking that I was going to have to pay for this mess by myself. He then said, "Don't look at the price". HAHAAHA. Well come to find out, ll had no intention of taking just one glass of wine (I should have known better), but we were at the BAR, not an actual table yet. At that point I knew it was going to be a long night.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
wtf
Now I realize the importance of keeping this updated.
Last night was pretty monumental, and two nights before that as well. And I also didn't even finish the previous post.
Perhaps I'll start three nights ago, which is already getting hazy.
I went to another intern's place after work on Wednesday. She was having people over for dinner at her apartment, since she completed her internship. We talked a lot of shit about the boss, ate some quiche, played some video games, whateva. She lives in a suburb outside of Amsterdam, so we had to take the train to get there. Unfortunately I had brought my laptop there and forgot it at the end of the night and couldn't really go back and get it. I had always feared this moment - to go back to this apartment and experience life without the internet. Fortunately it was late enough that I could consider just going to sleep, so that's pretty much what I tried to do.
ll was on the phone when I came in, but we were both out of each other's range of sight. The conversation sounded pretty heated (and smelled a bit like cheap wine), so naturally I listened at the door. Actually I layed down on my bed with all my clothes on, terrified to go out and brush my teeth, and left the door cracked. ll was pretty furious with his ex-ex-bf - the tall, skinny, blond 25 year old Dutch guy. xxbf had gone a trip to the Middle East for about a month with his work and had just gotten back to the Netherlands. ll had earlier promised that we would all go out together as my last hurrah. I actually would have gone had he delivered. Anywho, I guess the dispute was about some concert that ll had tickets for. I really do not understand what happened, so I won't try to go into it. The conversation went on and on - mostly ll yelling at xxbf about this ticket. It went so far as to ll calling him a bastard and a 'white piece of shit', among other things. This might explain their strained interactions which are going on now as ll serves xxbf 'breakfast' at 1:30 in the afternoon. I suppose ll didn't sleep last night.
Yeah, pretty standard drama crap. However, it started to get interesting after ll hung up the phone.
But first I should mention something. I realized today the only reason I'm able to blog about ll is that he has no inner dialogue. Once the shit hits the fan, the blow hits the nose, the cabernet sauvignon hits the... well, you get the idea. ll channels that little voice in his head and just lets it loose. This includes every tiny insignificant thought that doesn't make it to a complete, well rounded one. Which tends to happen when someone is drunk/stoned/crazy. I can't tell you what he sounds like exactly, but it's somewhat like an extended stutter - most of a word or phrase comes out, and then abruptly ceases. But in any case, the world around ll knows exactly what he's thinking at that very moment, even if it's complete nonsense. Brilliant. Why he chooses to go insane in the living room, and not his bedroom, is something else which should be examined. He must know that French fuck and I can both hear him.
Anyway, back on track. ll continues on his rant, cursing the name of xxbf and his life of privilege and travel and pasty white skin, but then things start falling. I don't know what's going on, but shit starts crashing. ll also starts blasting shitty techno music, and the external dialogue commences. It sounds like he begins to cry a few times, but THEN he just starts screaming. He does a few screams that start off from nothing, kind of like from a frequency a dog whistle operates on, but he increases the volume slowly into a full on scream. And he starts yelling, in a truly sad and pained voice, 'GET AWAY FROM ME! AHHHHHHHHH!! YOU AREN'T REAL! JUST STOP IT! STOP IT! HELLO?!?'.
Now I'm actually freaked out, because this shit is not normal. Talking to yourself to the extent that ll does it is not normal, but hallucinations.. NO. The sounds that are coming from this man are not normal either - he sounded almost like an animal. My door is still open, and there's no lock. I really wonder if he's going to bust into my room and I honestly don't know what's going to happen. I wonder if he's going to jump off the balcony, or if someone's going to call the police. And where am I going to hide if the police actually do come.
He calms down after some more screaming, some more crying, and some more crashing. His 'normal' external dialogue comes back. He went to the bathroom, which is across from my room, and I heard him say, "You CANNOT leave this house... before you pack your bag... and leave." All the while piss is hitting the toilet and floor.
I never did brush my teef that night
:(
The next night ll wasn't there at all. I thought maybe he could have jumped off that balcony, who knows.
Last night was pretty monumental, and two nights before that as well. And I also didn't even finish the previous post.
Perhaps I'll start three nights ago, which is already getting hazy.
I went to another intern's place after work on Wednesday. She was having people over for dinner at her apartment, since she completed her internship. We talked a lot of shit about the boss, ate some quiche, played some video games, whateva. She lives in a suburb outside of Amsterdam, so we had to take the train to get there. Unfortunately I had brought my laptop there and forgot it at the end of the night and couldn't really go back and get it. I had always feared this moment - to go back to this apartment and experience life without the internet. Fortunately it was late enough that I could consider just going to sleep, so that's pretty much what I tried to do.
ll was on the phone when I came in, but we were both out of each other's range of sight. The conversation sounded pretty heated (and smelled a bit like cheap wine), so naturally I listened at the door. Actually I layed down on my bed with all my clothes on, terrified to go out and brush my teeth, and left the door cracked. ll was pretty furious with his ex-ex-bf - the tall, skinny, blond 25 year old Dutch guy. xxbf had gone a trip to the Middle East for about a month with his work and had just gotten back to the Netherlands. ll had earlier promised that we would all go out together as my last hurrah. I actually would have gone had he delivered. Anywho, I guess the dispute was about some concert that ll had tickets for. I really do not understand what happened, so I won't try to go into it. The conversation went on and on - mostly ll yelling at xxbf about this ticket. It went so far as to ll calling him a bastard and a 'white piece of shit', among other things. This might explain their strained interactions which are going on now as ll serves xxbf 'breakfast' at 1:30 in the afternoon. I suppose ll didn't sleep last night.
Yeah, pretty standard drama crap. However, it started to get interesting after ll hung up the phone.
But first I should mention something. I realized today the only reason I'm able to blog about ll is that he has no inner dialogue. Once the shit hits the fan, the blow hits the nose, the cabernet sauvignon hits the... well, you get the idea. ll channels that little voice in his head and just lets it loose. This includes every tiny insignificant thought that doesn't make it to a complete, well rounded one. Which tends to happen when someone is drunk/stoned/crazy. I can't tell you what he sounds like exactly, but it's somewhat like an extended stutter - most of a word or phrase comes out, and then abruptly ceases. But in any case, the world around ll knows exactly what he's thinking at that very moment, even if it's complete nonsense. Brilliant. Why he chooses to go insane in the living room, and not his bedroom, is something else which should be examined. He must know that French fuck and I can both hear him.
Anyway, back on track. ll continues on his rant, cursing the name of xxbf and his life of privilege and travel and pasty white skin, but then things start falling. I don't know what's going on, but shit starts crashing. ll also starts blasting shitty techno music, and the external dialogue commences. It sounds like he begins to cry a few times, but THEN he just starts screaming. He does a few screams that start off from nothing, kind of like from a frequency a dog whistle operates on, but he increases the volume slowly into a full on scream. And he starts yelling, in a truly sad and pained voice, 'GET AWAY FROM ME! AHHHHHHHHH!! YOU AREN'T REAL! JUST STOP IT! STOP IT! HELLO?!?'.
Now I'm actually freaked out, because this shit is not normal. Talking to yourself to the extent that ll does it is not normal, but hallucinations.. NO. The sounds that are coming from this man are not normal either - he sounded almost like an animal. My door is still open, and there's no lock. I really wonder if he's going to bust into my room and I honestly don't know what's going to happen. I wonder if he's going to jump off the balcony, or if someone's going to call the police. And where am I going to hide if the police actually do come.
He calms down after some more screaming, some more crying, and some more crashing. His 'normal' external dialogue comes back. He went to the bathroom, which is across from my room, and I heard him say, "You CANNOT leave this house... before you pack your bag... and leave." All the while piss is hitting the toilet and floor.
I never did brush my teef that night
:(
The next night ll wasn't there at all. I thought maybe he could have jumped off that balcony, who knows.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Finito
I wrote this post on October 4... don't know why I didn't publish it then.
***
Not too much going down as of late... sorry ladies and gentlemen.
I spent nearly one glorious week outside of Amsterdam -- visiting friends in Paris and Ghent, and back here in Amsterdam. I had my first overnight visitor to the apartment last week. Thankfully we did not encounter LL on the first two nights, however he reared his ugly maw on the third. He rambled on about buying a 'love ring' for his partner. It sounded like a really, really bad idea and I think he was drunk. He didn't come home until the next day some time. I can't even imagine the store was even open as it was past 7 and definitely dark outside when he left. He never mentioned what happened and I didn't ask.
The purpose of this post really isn't about weirdness, or about my roommates. I've decided to man up and leave Amsterdam. That's right, man up and QUIT!
I came here with the notion that Amsterdam would be amazing, and that I would want to stay a long time - longer than what my internship required. And once I had found a place, that I wouldn't want to leave it. I was a bit tired of moving around, after moving all my belongings from Oklahoma to Bordeaux, back to Oklahoma and then to Sweden, to Spain, to Poland and through Germany, before arriving here in the Netherlands. Plus, it's Amsterdam! It has one of the most unique reputations and histories as far as cities go.
Unfortunately, things just didn't really come together for me here. I definitely started out on the wrong foot - getting my wallet and legality stolen from me like a pauper stealing a load of bread a la Oliver Twist (did that actually occur?). I definitely do like Amsterdam... I had a really fulfilling experience here - I feel like I did get to know Dutch people, after working in a Dutch office, I saw the country, tasted the local cuisine, got high, partied, paid and arm and a leg for groceries at Albert Heijn, cycled in freezing rain just to save 2.20 euros, and withstood the unbearable awkwardness of my flatmates. The Netherlands is a beautiful and fascinating country, but I really just didn't find my place here. Another time, I suppose.
***
Not too much going down as of late... sorry ladies and gentlemen.
I spent nearly one glorious week outside of Amsterdam -- visiting friends in Paris and Ghent, and back here in Amsterdam. I had my first overnight visitor to the apartment last week. Thankfully we did not encounter LL on the first two nights, however he reared his ugly maw on the third. He rambled on about buying a 'love ring' for his partner. It sounded like a really, really bad idea and I think he was drunk. He didn't come home until the next day some time. I can't even imagine the store was even open as it was past 7 and definitely dark outside when he left. He never mentioned what happened and I didn't ask.
The purpose of this post really isn't about weirdness, or about my roommates. I've decided to man up and leave Amsterdam. That's right, man up and QUIT!
I came here with the notion that Amsterdam would be amazing, and that I would want to stay a long time - longer than what my internship required. And once I had found a place, that I wouldn't want to leave it. I was a bit tired of moving around, after moving all my belongings from Oklahoma to Bordeaux, back to Oklahoma and then to Sweden, to Spain, to Poland and through Germany, before arriving here in the Netherlands. Plus, it's Amsterdam! It has one of the most unique reputations and histories as far as cities go.
Unfortunately, things just didn't really come together for me here. I definitely started out on the wrong foot - getting my wallet and legality stolen from me like a pauper stealing a load of bread a la Oliver Twist (did that actually occur?). I definitely do like Amsterdam... I had a really fulfilling experience here - I feel like I did get to know Dutch people, after working in a Dutch office, I saw the country, tasted the local cuisine, got high, partied, paid and arm and a leg for groceries at Albert Heijn, cycled in freezing rain just to save 2.20 euros, and withstood the unbearable awkwardness of my flatmates. The Netherlands is a beautiful and fascinating country, but I really just didn't find my place here. Another time, I suppose.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
My worldview has changed.
I don't know exactly how to describe what just happen. It's monumental. It will change the way people think, all over the world.
---
ll was sipping his wine, chatting away, and told me that he had to go pick up a gift for a friend, since he had elected not to go to friend's birthday party this weekend. He left. I was happy.
He returned with some underwear for his straight friend, celebrating... his new girlfriend, or something like that. We talked for about about I don't know what, and he leaves again to pick up some theater tickets for this guy and his girl. He returned a few minutes later, came into my room holding two glasses of rose (that's rose-AY), and made me drink a glass with him. He also had a bottle of wine, which I assumed was also for the friend. It turns out the bottle was for me (which I couldn't take on the 'plane' back to Sweden... which isn't happening...). What a gracious gift!! Oh... you bought it from Albert Heijn? You mean the grocery store on the corner two minutes away? Gee... thanks...
We talk about my presence in the house, how he thinks I'm a nice guy, how he thinks I have a nice style, how I'm skinny, that my room is disgusting, that I need to clean my hair out of the drain, and how his boyfriend didn't want me to live there because the he thought the story about my wallet getting stolen was a lie, etc. etc. You know, normal things.
He leaves again, I breathe a sigh of relief, and returns once again with his fucking bicycle. He carried that damn thing up 3 flights of stairs. He said he has to clean it. I imagine that cleaning a bicycle could be done outdoors, even in Europe, most likely with some water, soap, and a rag of some sort. ll had a slightly different approach by inserting the bike into the shower.
It even had suds on it.
---
The thing that changed everything came much later ... when I finally saw the truth.
The naked truth.
NAKED.
---
ll was sipping his wine, chatting away, and told me that he had to go pick up a gift for a friend, since he had elected not to go to friend's birthday party this weekend. He left. I was happy.
He returned with some underwear for his straight friend, celebrating... his new girlfriend, or something like that. We talked for about about I don't know what, and he leaves again to pick up some theater tickets for this guy and his girl. He returned a few minutes later, came into my room holding two glasses of rose (that's rose-AY), and made me drink a glass with him. He also had a bottle of wine, which I assumed was also for the friend. It turns out the bottle was for me (which I couldn't take on the 'plane' back to Sweden... which isn't happening...). What a gracious gift!! Oh... you bought it from Albert Heijn? You mean the grocery store on the corner two minutes away? Gee... thanks...
We talk about my presence in the house, how he thinks I'm a nice guy, how he thinks I have a nice style, how I'm skinny, that my room is disgusting, that I need to clean my hair out of the drain, and how his boyfriend didn't want me to live there because the he thought the story about my wallet getting stolen was a lie, etc. etc. You know, normal things.
He leaves again, I breathe a sigh of relief, and returns once again with his fucking bicycle. He carried that damn thing up 3 flights of stairs. He said he has to clean it. I imagine that cleaning a bicycle could be done outdoors, even in Europe, most likely with some water, soap, and a rag of some sort. ll had a slightly different approach by inserting the bike into the shower.
It even had suds on it.
---
The thing that changed everything came much later ... when I finally saw the truth.
The naked truth.
NAKED.
LIVE!!
ll is peeing a lot and being really friendly and talkative. I told him I was going to Hamburg this weekend and he started calling his friends that live there, trying to get us to meet. He mentioned something about a long (?) ziplock bag full of ecstasy and a lot of other things I didn't understand.
I was looking around for what I thought was his 'juice' glass (in his bedroom) and smelled it - wine.
BINGO!!
I was looking around for what I thought was his 'juice' glass (in his bedroom) and smelled it - wine.
BINGO!!
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