Cartagena during Carnivals

La Flaca and I escaped from Barranquilla during the Carnivals and went to Cartagena, which you might remember from such films as Romancing the Stone and .... Look Who's Talking Now, both of which were actually filmed in Mexico. Either way, The old city was even older than the last time I was there, but so was I.

Carnaval time again

Carnaval de Barranquilla is in full swing again, and this year I am playing the reluctant observer.

The last few weeks have been dominated by the Todd and Urania -- Gringo binding with Barranquillera event, where I took some semi-crappy photos. For more on recent BQ Gringo happenenings, as always, see Chris Davis' Flickr Pics.

Ciao for now,
FPP

Tayrona, (Tie - Row - Na)

Happy New Year. I just got back from a diverting time away from the city. La Flaca and I took a little trip to Tayrona National park, which, in case you are uninitiated, is about as close to Giligan's Island as you can get around here, or around there, for the most part (unless you are in Hawaii or Fiji or some such BS).Regardless of how you look at it, For a two and a half hour trip (or less by car, up to four or five if you travel by one of the many ridiculously crappy buses available here in Colombia), Tayrona is a nice little trip option for the 2nd of January. I must admit I sometimes take these trips just to think about what my similar options might be back home. Spokane, WA, maybe? hmmmmm.
Tayrona was absolutely full of people though, Europeans and Colombians from the interior (this means people not from the coast, so they are generally paler, quieter, more polite, and less likely to throw garbage on the ground than your average Costeno). So La Flaca and I only stayed a few nights, before returning to the Colombian capital of Carnaval and Hot Dogs.
Ah, there is no dress code at Tayrona. La Flaca wouldn't allow me to take a picture of the model sunbathing next to us covered only by the smallest of g-strings and some green paint on her nipples, but I did get a pic of this nice thong couple walking up the beach. Judging by the fellow's tan line there, this ain't the first time he has been out in a thong.
So, when you get ready for your winter getaway, consider Tayrona, and pack a bunch of thongs, cause I guess you don't want to wear the same one day after day after day.

Ho Ho Ho, Who's the next to go?

The cliched "people always die in threes" myth has me wondering about who will join the Godfather of Soul and Agnew's Replacement President at the mortuary this month.


FppInternational's Prediction:


every Kurd's favorite turd,
the Killa' from Al Hillah,
Sadam Hussein.
By the way, doesn't it kinda look like these guys bought the same hat and, as time passed, it kinda fell apart. eventually becoming Sadam's hair?

smell my finner

Just a nice pic from C.Davis today, taken at a downtown salsa joint in the wee small hours, which, I think, speaks for itself

Jaime Bond comes to Barranquilla

PP, FPP

FINALLY....

Bond, Jaime Bond makes his arrival at the cinemas in BQ, and not a moment too soon.

Truth be told, I am on a pretty impressive string of not bad movies.

Starting with Pierce Brosnan as a retired Jame's Bond type assassin in The Matador to Scorsese's bloody Departed, Chris Nolan's Wolverine vs. Batman, The Prestige and finishing with last night's viewing of the ass-kicking new Bond flick Casino Royale. Which, of course, will be the topic of my review.

First let me say, I never doubted Daniel Craig. The production pictures I saw online and the previews I watched online looked great and he seemed like a great choice. And in the movie, he kicks ass, in nearly every concieveable sense. He is big, bad, mean, gnarly, cold, and unstoppable. This is not your father's James Bond. This guy is not smooth; he is a beast. But he is still Bond, but a much more realistic and just bad Bond, (Bad in the Samuel L. Jackson sense).

GO SEE IT, so's we can discuss. couple things that seemed a little odd, or at least details to deal with...
1. It is long, and
2. our boy JB doesn't even get a BJ until over and hour and half into the film (what hell?)

but, aside from Jaime's lack of GIO (getting it on) and the length of the flick, the damn thing moves like a bull through a crowd of drunken and crippled pygmies, with possibly the best opening scene (acutally 2 opening scenes) of all the 21 films. And, speaking of what came before, this movie could not have been a better move away from the Uber-Crappy Die Another Day, with its ridiculous invisible cars, kite surfing, halle berry and diamond-faced korean baddies.


Anyway James Bond is back in a big way, and I couldn't be happier. I may make La Flaca go with me tonight to see it again

wow, only four months

it's only been four months since my trusty minolta went tits up.
Anyway, I downloaded me (and you, with feeling) some pics from Chris Davis' computer to show the world. these are very frankcentric, but then, what the hell ain't?

so here're a couple photos from halloween.
la flaca and i tastefully opted for the "crocodile hunter vs. stingray" costumes


By the way, I built that damned stingray costume out of foam rubber, like some a "muppets gone wild"-type bullshit costume thing. At the end of the night, when the party was over, I purposely left it (purposely = drunkenly) on the ground, having no desire to carry it back to my apartment. I assume some poor Colombian children are now using it as a sled on some mountain of cocaine somewhere in the interior.



And these are some pics from todd's birthday. you may remember him from such blog posts as "Blast from the past", wherein he played the trumpet.

anyway, here we go, hope all is well, kisses, etc.
fpp

the sublime and the necessary

I just discovered that http://www.chrismohney.com exists. which means, of course, that our man in the UES has accomplished something pretty spectacular: his own eponymous .com thingy on the world wide web . So, for those of you scoring at home, as plato said, "A hero is born among a hundred, a wise man is found among a thousand, but an accomplished one might not be found even among a hundred thousand men."


... of course, plato also like groping little boys, (mohney too)(lemme explain that: mohney also likes to grope little boys, not plato also groped mohney)

mohney was on CNN with some eggheads talking post-modern culture.


'bout time

Oprah, take notes

Der Fraline showed me this video the other evening at a party.

As a global news-gathering entity, FPPInternational would not be doing its journalistic duty not to share.



It's in Dutch, but that doesn't really matter.
The topic of the show is "Medical Malpractice"
and the chap with the moustache had his testicles removed by mistake.

Have a great October

BQ goes Hollywood

OK, this post has nothing to do with Love In The Time Of Cholera, shooting in nearby Cartagena (Although, technically, the book is based here in BQ, although Garcia Marquez never actually says the name of the city, but he does refer to it as "the city on the Rio Magdalena," which makes it BQ, not Cartagena). No matter, cause Hollywood has brought BQ into the spotlight recently with both Michael Douglas' trip up Sutherland's Keifster The Sentinel and Michael Mann's Miami Vice having references to BQ. In MV, Crocket and Tubbs actually cross the Carribean to pay a visit.
Now, I haven't seen Miami Vice yet, but I am happy to report that in The Sentinel the "Barranquilla Cartel" is mentioned a minimum of five times. By the way this movie is crappy. Wow! Surprise.

Anyway, the best part of Mike's Douglaction flick is the fact that I was watching it amid the company of the cartel themselves, not unlike the time i caught the news about the Seattle Jack-in-the-Box EColi scare on a tv at a Jack-in-the-Box in Seattle.

so go rent "The Sentinel," and help MD pay for his viagra and have an Aguila everytime the cartel is mentioned.

By the way, as far as I can assertain, there is no "Barranquilla Cartel, " but I for one, am willing to begin building.
and this bonus pic is what first came up when i google image searched "sentinel"

Along with gunpowder and chopsticks, something else to learn from the Chinese

Thank you, Yahoo! News for posting the best news headline I have seen in a long while:

China cracks down on striptease funerals

Here's an exerpt:

Strip shows have been commonly used to attract more mourners to funerals, as villagers believe a crowded send-off brings more honor to the deceased, Xinhua news agency said.

It just seems right, doesn't it?
Now, what with all that yuan up for grabs, I have two reasons to attend Chinese funerals. Act now, supplies limited.

Photos from Chris Davis. The Killing Fields

C.Davis, the Conga-King of Barranquilla got hisself a snazy little sommbitch of a camera, so he's camerizing and photographing silly shit. check out these here links and you will be in the running for a brand new set of snowman salt and pepper shakers or a new buick lasabre. Enter early, enter often.

Bowling with the Pins

I think this is pretty self-explanatory.

and Yes, that is a panda head stretched over the top of his bowling pin costume.

Blast from the Past

Alex der Frauline, Barranquilla's German princess sent FPPInternational a cd filled with pics from the most recent gig at Flashbacks, which was in the middle of June.
Der Frauline takes better pics than the paid photogs at FPPInternational, so why not post 'em.

Included here are Erica, my co-worker, and I rocking out to a Madonna tune.




Der Frauline with La Mona Alta and the singer for The WifeBeaters, Adele.





FPP with Palanges, a true frankothon.





An addition of some note, to the band, is Todd, our vermonter Trumpeteer, who is like The Rocketeer sans Jennifer Connelly.




I have very little to add other than we (the WifeBeaters) have also recently purchased a violin (which is similar to a fiddle, as I understand it) player, which means we'll finally be able to play "Come on Eileen," the song, not the game.

Secret Mel Gibson - Hezollah link

Mel has been working for Hezbollah. Saddam recently linked info that he personally advised Mel in how to properly grow a good "jew-hater" (that's the offical beard of Hezbollah and other parties). FPPInternational's team of crack reporters located the email from Mel to Saddam (both parties were in jail at the time; Mel's cell had Evian and Wi-Fi) which read:

melbvhrtoscar@hollywoodouchebags.com
to
sadhistboomboom1@aol.iq

SH... thanks 4 the info. "j-h" coming in nicely. striped like yrs. I will let HEZ. know to send some rockets south. hope all is well in jail. here it's not too bad.

CU L8R

;) Mel

Floyd's keeping up his end

Floyd Landis, this year's miraculous winner of the Tour de France has again tested positive for steroids. Hmmmmmm. His reaction is to appeal the decision. Of course. I think that congratulatory phone call from the white house included more than just a "nice win, floyd. you sure look svelte in that green bike racing suit." I guess the powers that be in washington counseled our 'roid floyd on how to handle pesky little problems like being found out. Deny it, baby. say it was a beer. say that spanish sonofabitch had a weapon of mass destruction up his ass. say you produce artificial steroids naturally. say you are a mutant crimfighter (that would explain the suit). say anything, it doesn't matter. no one is held accountable for lying anymore. Our 'Roid Floyd, getting at a zit. FPPinternational's advice, "turn your fucking cap around, Floyd!"

btw floyd. if that beer thing works, how come i am pretty sure I am not going to be kicking any athletic ass this morning (this morning being saturday, last night being friday)? I drank my beer last night!

The End of Summer

Since I got a new coconut monkey and a bookcase, I suppose it can be extrapolated that I made it back home after being away for a month or so (35 grueling days). And nothing makes the experince more Grueling than airports. I hate nearly all of them, none more than Chicago's O'Hare. From June 20th to July 25th, I spent significant time in BAQ (twice), MIA (twice), DIA, SEA (twice), ORD (nine hateful hours), and YYZ (twice). First of all, I would think a city the size of Toronto could get a better code, but I guess you can't have that tall pointy thing, the sky-dome AND an easy airport code. So I spent a lot of time in airports, I read a bunch [a Johnny Cash bio, a Bukowski novel (Post Office) and a bio of Ghengis Khan], and I watched a bunch of TV on my computer. Computers have now made airports (even Chicago's) bearable. But only because Deadwood exists. I am not a fan of the TV. I think it is generally really fucking stupid, and I don't own one and haven't really watched the thing with any regularity since Monica Lewinsky was the main news story. And when I do see what other people watch on it, I do not miss the idiocy of the thing, (although I am often drawn to the damn thing like a mosquito.) I have never seen a minute of the Sopranos, nor American Idol, nor Survivor, and have promised to aviod them like the plague. But I have seen Deadwood, as a matter of fact I just finished the second season and if all of TV were as good as this stuff, I would sleep with the damn machine. And although it may not be the best thing to watch with your grandmother (unless she like hearing the words "cocksucker" and "cunt" alot), it is without a doubt the best goddamn cocksucker of a show i have ever seen. All I want to do now is grow up to be an Al Swearengen stooge: get slapped around, cut people's throats, drink whiskey for breakfast, and shout the most outlandishly perfect lines of dialogue that have ever been written for TV. Bonanza times The Godfather plus MacBeth times a porno movie, how could you not love this fucking cocksucker?

Home Improvements

I finally got back to BQ to discover that La Flaca had purchased me the two gifts that refusing to stop giving: a coconut monkey and a negrita nalgona. Placing them amongst my mess produced objections about how I live in a state of disorden (disorder, messiness) (and I had only been in country for an hour and a half or so.) Be that as it may, I decided to build a bookcase, even though my cache of books is right pitiful. Nonetheless, I took some measurements, made some drawings and took a trip to Home Center and purchased me some pine, screws, varnish, and got to sticking stuff together.

I chose to basically build the thing in two parts and stick the two parts together, which worked out pretty well. My favorite part of this is that the picture of the two parts has funky lines in it, which I will interpret for you. These lines signify that FPP's trusty Minolta Dimage finally crapped the hell out, as far as I can tell, forever, and has become a piece of useless tin with PrintClub photos on it. So the last couple pics are from the Panasonic camcorder, which does not capture quite the pics that the minolta did, but at least the little lights start a-glowing when i hit the "on" button.
Life goes on for everyone except el Minolta. So things got all screwed together and the stuff has started getting sorted out on the bookcase. If you have any suggestions as to what a civilized person puts on a bookcase lemme know.

Hoh Hoh Hoh

.

Just got home from the Hoh River on the Olympic Penninsula. This is a river in the rain forest. It did not rain.

Strando, Chili, The Weatherman and I spent three days camping along the river, which was extremely fucking cold.


Although it wasn't completely eventless (I did do a faceplant hiking in when my boot laces caught on a foot bridge. We were crossing a stream at the time), for the most part, thanks to Weathe's knowledge of weather, and lots of Advil, it was a perfect trip.

On Friday morning, I was ready to roll, and had had all my junk packed, half of which i left at Strand's house, including my camera, so, with handy ten-dollar disposable camera in hand, we did the Hoh.

El Strando was kind enough to take the above pics, which I will supplement with real live analog pictures (photographs, i think they are called) when I get them back from the store. Until then the breathtaking photography of El Strando is available here.

Happy 25th of June (diez meses, wow!), only 3 more shopping days til my birthday, so get your asses in gear.

Birthdays galore, monkey, heads of bread

eventually we will all have our birthdays moved to june.

Henry, La Flaca and i have already been recruited by this most cumpleanary month, so we been celebrating birthdays here.

and finishing work at the school

and getting rained on

so, i been really busy, too busy, one might say, to post any blogs, until now.

as i get ready to leave bq for a month (seattle bound i am), I figger I better stick some pics of my lovely self up here where they can be enjoyed by la gente (that means all of you, the universe, i care for you all, almost as much as zztop)

anyway, enough of that silliness...

here are la flaca and her amigas sharing a giant turquoise colored drink at Boobs. Yes, Boobs is really the name of a bar here, where there's none of that clever, toying with language like with "Hooters," which some of you may not realize isn't only the name for owls but also a term for womens' Ta-tas. This in one of the subleties of language that we here at FppInternational take the time to research and uncover; FppInternational is an educational and linguistic think tank, afterall. So, here's the chicks at boobs.

I finally located my long lost, seperated-at-birth twin brother loaf of bread. don't we both just look just delicious?

Also, what could be more charming than an afternoon at the barranquilla zoo?
Not a goddamn thing!

I remember reading that of all the primates, humans are the ones that have the largest percent of their bodymass dedicated to male genitalia, well, at least male humans, I don't think this statistic applies to women or them freaky folks who got everything (by this I don't mean a yacht and a vacation home in the lakes region, but like everything in the sense that they got weewees and coochies both and star in weird porno movies with midgets). Either way, we got the biggest dinguses, according to the internet (which is a valuable sourse of information that can be accessed in your home, via telephone/cable wires), which leaves these two losers in the schlong department contemplating their genetic bad luck.