Sven's co-ed Drinking-Intense Baby Shower and Crown Hill Invention: Chili Fever

So much to discuss...

After a successfull and fairly far-reaching hillbillie adventure that took me to Grangeville, Cottonwood and Keuterville Idahos and Colville and Chewelah Washinton, I tripped back to the "west" for various adventures including a Mariner's Game and Weathe and Kristen's co-ed baby (Sven) shower, the focus of which was drinking games.



After that I hung about in the general Seattle area for a couple days, where I saw Crown Hill Invention at the Nectar bar, the scene of my first Seattle debauch earlier in June. Full-circle, I guess.



Anyway, I am back in BQ, where I belong, I guess. My apartment is filled with sunflowers, streamers and balloons courtesy of La Flaca. I am tired. My luggage is still in Miami, but I am not distressed, It's too damn hot for that.

Willie and the Reichlin boys

Okay. So I guess there is no other way to say it: for father’s day, I purchased tickets and took my dad and brother to see Willie Nelson at the Gorge Amphitheater on the 4^th of July. It was great. Willie, of course, came on last after Son Volt, The Old 97’s, Drive by Truckers.

Regardless how you shake it, it came up Willie. The event info said no “professional cameras” and no “digital cameras” so FPPInternational, ever the rule-following gaggle of cowardice, went to the event armed only with a small golf pencil, a piece of paper on loan from the beer-selling lady and a Kodak disposable camera (FPPInternational’s journalistic integrity and historic pursuance of greatness helped me to choose the zoom model disposable Kodak film camera) I entered the gates to the gorge and waited in the sun for a 74-year-old nasally singing Texan. Willie played for over two hours and at midnight declined to be interviewed, preferring to smoke some sagebrush.

My super cake

On my 22nd birthday, fifteen damned years ago, Melissa of Don and Melissa fame, made me a wonderful birthday cake. But damn did I have a hard time eating it, as I had just had my wisdom teeth pulled a scant three days before. So, through teary eyes and yelps of pain, I told Melissa I appreciated that she had made me a cake, but couldn't eat my piece. She got really really pissed off. Actually, she understood and has made me a birthday cake whenever I am nearby when late June rolls around. This year she went crazy and made me a beach-themed birthday cake with gummy sharks eating bikini-clad teddy grahams. Thank you, Melissa. All my snack-food fantasies have come to fruition.

Lake Chelan Hike, Nature’s Revenge.

Bees, Barbeques and Bowels Teach the Boys Who’s Boss

The annual boys against nature hike-o-rama was an exercise in humility, with six bee-stings, one scorched leg and at least one emergency forest-poo contributing to an otherwise successful and eventful weekend in eastern Washington. Next year, I predict Weathe and Strando will have the dramatic adventures, but this year it was pure FPP and Chili.

BEE Trouble

This one I really do not understand. I took my bike out this morning for a short ride up the hill past crown point. It is all uphill. On the way back, a nice leisurely downhill run in the highest gear, I got hit in the face, specifically in the right side of my upper lip, with a bee, who, being malicious, decided with dying breath, to sting me. Damn. My upper right lip is now puffy and funny looking, to match the rest of face, I suppose. Fine. Semi-normal summer occurance. I do not die or even get sick from beestings. But goddamnit, I got bit in exactly the same spot on Friday, the first day of the Chelan hike. A bee, unbeknownst to me, flew into my handful of gorp and stung my damned lip as I tossed it in my mouth.

Later, also on that Friday, I was looking for firewood for our first camp (wood that would later contribute to a scorched chili-leg) I got into a bee’s nest and was stung on my hands, feet and, you guessed it, right side of my lip. However, this time it was the lower lip. But regardless, this bee-lip connection is becoming a real pain in the ass, or lip, actually.

Puffily yours,

FPP

Solstice Fremont Naked Bicyclists

Welcome to the Fremont Summer Solstice Parade, which of course is preceded by hundreds of Nude Cyclists. Chili, Strandito and I spent the Saturday nearest the longest day of the year where we were supposed to be, Fremont.



I have very little else to add. I drank too much to really report the event as acurately as I should have. Bad FPPInternational.

Back To The Frigid Northwest

Well, for the people scoring at home, it is official: I successfully made it from Barranquilla to Seattle, with nary a hitch.





So an evening was spent at some crappy bar (Earl's) on the Ave after dining at Schultzy's. The drinks at Earl's were cheap and strong. The team suggested that I convolesce my throat with whiskey, which I did, having three "shots" one shot equalling something like six ounces.

We countered this thursday night stupidity with Friday night at the newly opened UltraLounge in Bellevue. Better looking waitstaff, much more expensive and watered down libations.

Back into the swing, I think

besos flac

Baltimore's Barbaric Ballroom Ballyhoo

Our man Chris Mohney and the lovely Lisa Brill united their biological, social and political powers Saturday, in an event shrowded in mystery and cake.



I was present, covering the event for FPPInterational, as our features editor Liliana Gomez was on assignment in Swaziland.

Having known the groom since he was a wee little pickle jumping rope on the street corner in his short pants and suspenders, I was particualrly joyfilled and teary-eyed at the actual wedding. But nothing says "dry up and get on with your life" like alcohol. So I got drunk and the remembrance of my sad lost childhood disappeared behind a fog of confussion and dancefloor acrobatics. Lisa was cool, calm and classy: Chris said the right words, wore a green bowtie and paraded the dancefloor like a peacock. The rest of us just watched and guessed what might be in the punch we were drinking.



Welcome back to the USA, Fpp, the sign said in front of the Capitol, next to the one about some guy having been molested by John Kerry.

Kick Punch Block at the Beach

La Flaca and I spent a very pleasant evening thru early morning at the excellent beach hotel/resturant/bar/disco/surfing HJ Pradomar in Puerto Colombia this weekend, celebrating my pal Henry's video release party. It seems our industrious, Jerseyite, black-belt buddy has just become the Billy Blanks of the Spanish-speaking world with the release of his exercise DVDs. Henry premiered his infomercial at the party and we all drank toasts to the art of teaching people to kick others in the interest of healthier living.



All jocularity aside, the event was great and Henry, after working like a coal-miner (meaning "really hard", not "with a little lamp on his head") on this project for four years was absolutely ecstatic. Anyway, we ate good, we drank good, we (well everybody but me) danced good, and we got home at 4 am good.

So I got's Xmas presents for everyone all reserved for next year, with which you will lose the fat and learn to kick people in Spanish, what could be better?

Balkie's Revenge

Here's a quiz for ya

What happens if Hollywood hack director Brett Ratner were to eat the entire Moonlighting DVD collection, The Last Boyscout, Catwoman, and 50% of the video store's "Suspense" aisle, where movies with titles like Illict Dreams and Night of Fear with stars like Shannon Tweed and Richard Tyson?

He probably gets a little ill and might just toss his cookies. If he happens to toss them onto 35mm celluloid, you get the unbearably bad PERFECT STRANGER, which is the worst movie I have seen since The Holiday.

I admit to watching both these pieces of shit, and I have excuses for both.

I find it amazing though, what famous, rich actory folks are prepared to do for money. I can understand me making this movie; I'm poor. But shit, Bruce, wow, this is worse than either Blind Date or The Return of Bruno. Hudson Hawk is Ben Hur compared to this gargantuan pile of duck feces. I think Mr. Willis should take his $ from Perfect Stranger and put a few more dudes on the "Bruce's most wanted list" starting with director James Foley.


I won't even mention Halle Berry, as this movie seems right about up her alley.

Cartagena again, springbreak

Happy Easter.
Not too much to report this break.

La flaca and I went to Cartagena after finding a hotel at the last possible moment, which means a couple things:
A. I got gouged. I do not want to admit how much I paid for the two nights at this hotel, but let's just say there are better deals to be had even during the high season.
B. The hotel wasn't the best. It was however, an all-inclusive deal, which means the food is on them. And it tasted as though it had been on them, especially on Pedro, the guy who cleans the bathrooms. I don't even want to write the name of the hotel, it was such an overpriced shithole.



anyway, it was a nice trip, we went to the inquisition torture museum, which didn't cost hardly anything but was way overpriced. I had a nice time, but am a little embarrassed to say that the only thing I feel I accomplished on this trip was the turning of my skin to a very very bright neon pink color.
I have been out of the sun for a while, and after a couple hours in the sun on the beach in cartagena (prepositional phrases for all) I became a new color. It still hurts. And by this I don't mean that it hurts when someone slaps me on the back and says, "Nice work closing the Hertvinschtinker deal, Guy." But it hurts when the earth revolves around the sun. It hurts when my small intestines squeeze old food matter. It hurts all the time.

Oh, it rained today. I know this seems like the most mundane of all mundanities, but people who have eeked out a living in BQ, will understand why I make this observation. Today was the first time it has rained at all since late November.

So stay dry, keep away from the arroyos and eat your eggs.
Fpp

Welcome to La Troja

Just a simple Rumba saturday night at La Troja, which is an historic old outdoor salsa bar toward the center of town.



Although not a nightly venture a trip to La Troja is always an occassion. It makes the old feel young and keeps the young intoxicated. Actually we just ended the night at La Troja, having started at Chris' apartment, moved to Charanga 79 and finally closed the deal at La Troja. Well, I didn't close anything, but looking around at the sloppy faces and beer stained clothes, something got closed by someone. No matter how you cut it, it was a typical rumba saturday in BQ. Ciao and kisses, FPP

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