Resident Evil Me!

The summer semester doesn't start until mid-April, so I've got sweet F.A. to do. Chris, Paul and I decided to hit the Resident Evil (Gamecube remake). We rigged up the speakers, and prepared to shit panties. Good job there's no toilet paper in the gaff - Note to self: Steal bog-roll from the pub.

Paul with a category 5 hangover:

Valentine's Day (Part Two)

Anna managed to cram an insane amount of people into her bungalow for the party. Spot the cheeky bastard in the background:

They had the music a little too loud, but the German police didn't seem to mind being photographed..

Unfortunately, things turned pearshaped. I received a call the next day: Chris, Dermot and myself had to accompany Paul to casualty, as the twat danced so hard that he mangled his own foot.

Valentine's Day (Part One)

I received a large parcel in the post. It said 'For The Attention Of: 'Big Monkey', and had been sent from the United Kingdom. Paul had to help me open it. I couldn't believe it when my girlfriend, 'Massive Ape', jumped out of the box. She'd posted herself over for a surprise Valentine's visit. I was so happy.

I sent Paul off for an emergency visit to the supermarket, and then knocked up a romantic dinner.

Massive Ape was pretty knackered, so we hit the sack, while Paul went out for Susan and Dave's Birthday party at Shutzberg's.

Where The F*ck Have I Been?

Well, the truth is... nowhere. I have very little news since Valentine's day. I've been studying a fair bit for the TEFL course (and trying to improve the old Deutsch, of course), but who the fuck wants to read about that?

As soon as Paul gets off his crutches, I should be back in action.

Operation

My foot has split due to all the hard clubbing. I lost a fair few beans the other night, so I had to be operated on. It wasn't fun, but I feel a little better now.

Hair Of The Monkey

Many will be familiar with the term 'Hair Of The Dog'. This is where one eases a hangover by having a little bit to drink the day after. 'Hair Of The Monkey', a technique I have personally created, is the process by which one brutally reintoxicates him/herself in order to postpone the hangover, allowing for another evening of fun.

Does Anyone Have Any Fabreeze?

I’ve now been wearing the same pair of Tommy Hillfiger boxers for 27 days solid, and I haven’t even turned them inside out yet. I reckon I can get another month in. They seem to have taken on a new, rather strange and unfamiliar odour.

The Wine Glass Retard

05.02.2006

I would like to know who smashed TWO of my fucking wine glasses last night, then hid the remains under the bed. I am offering a reward of 5€. I’m not kidding.

Marco's Leaving Bash

04.02.2006

Tonight was Marco’s leaving do. The semester ends next week, so I’m gonna visit him in Naples. Better go for that job in McDonald’s to make sure I can afford enough pizza when I arrive. Apparently pizza originates from Naples, so it’s quality stuff. Here’s the invitation we sent out for his party:

Paul and myself even made a song to mark the occasion...

Click To Listen

No one arrived at 8.30pm, which was good really, because we didn’t buy booze ‘til half seven. It was all lads until about 10.30pm, which was interesting (and a tiny bit seedy).

The turnout was good. Once we’d stuck the table in the hall, there was a surprising amount of room. It's probably the most disgraced I've seen the ERASMUS students since we started. We bought too much booze. I wasn't complaining about that though - 'hair of the dog' on Sunday evening was very necessary, and I didn't even need to leave the flat.

A Cena Da Fabrizio

03.02.2006

Fabrizio cooked us a fantastic Italian meal. We took some cheap and nasty wine over to say thank you.

I fancied a packet of peanuts (and a beer), so we headed to the Bierstube. We accidentally ended up in Olydisco – that place always gives me a monster hangover. Chris took my fleece off and handed it over to the guy in the cloakroom. The response was “VEE HAVE NO COATHANGERS ZAT SMALL!” What an ass. Then he had the cheek to say “DO YOU VANT ME TO PUT ZEE MONKEY AVAY VIZ ZEE COAT?” I was not impressed. I bit his leg and ran.

Age Restriction: No Over 50s

I received an email from my Mum yesterday evening, asking me if she should post me some new underwear. I'm not joking! If I've told her once, I've told her a thousand times: This blog is NOT for her to read! The thought of the poor old dear sat at home, browsing through these foul-mouthed entries actually makes my stomach turn. IF YOU'RE READING THIS NOW, MOTHER, STOP! STOP NOW!

I may have to change the website address again.

I Need Some New Panties

Today, I will have been wearing the same underwear for 21 days. That's a personal record for me. Mother, I hope you're reading this.

The McLexicon

All my recent posts have been about boozing antics, so I'm taking some time off the beer, and I'm only eating fruit, salads, pasta and shit (not actual shit - that's slang for 'etc.') I haven't had a drink since Saturday, but I'm still smoking like a bit of a trooper. Need to cut down on that. I think I might go for a jog around the Olympia Village tomorrow (before getting an application form from McDonald's). I may need to watch Supersize Me again.

Hopefully, working at Maccie Dee's will improve my German. Here is a list I've compiled of the vocabulary I'll probably need to learn:

English > German

A Big Mac - Ein Big Mac
A Big Tasty - Ein Big Tasty
A Big Cheese - Ein Big Cheese
A Quarter Pounder - Ein Hamburger Royal
A McChicken Sandwich - Ein McChicken
A Fillet of Fish - Ein Fishmäc
With cheese - Mit Käse
Large fries - Große Pommes
A garden salad - Ein Garten Salat
A Coke - Ein Cola.

Well...year abroad well spent.

Is It Just Me Or Is Everything McShit?

I received a letter from the Instutional Coordinator here, saying that I needed to speak with her urgently. I drastically prepared my 'bullshit-repertoire', ready for an onslaught about how little I've been working, but instead she wanted to talk to me about finances. I owe some Euros to the old residence, and can't move into Trinsky's until it's sorted. The problem, and none of the bastards seem to understand this, is that it takes fucking ages to transfer money from a British account into a German one, and I can't make payments unless I do. The reason I owe this cocking money is because it took six weeks to clear a cheque last year, even though Deutsche Bank is supposed to be affiliated with Barclays.

I desperately need to (because I'm skint), but I just can't find any work in Munich at the moment - unemployment is still quite high in Germany. There's not much hope for foreign students, except...dare I say it...at McDonald's, where there are plenty of part-time vacancies. It's been contemplated by a few of us, but I just don't think I'd be able to tell my parents. Apparently, if you work there, you get free food all the time, so I probably wouldn't live to see my next birthday. This is rapidly becoming my university McSandwich year.



Dermo's got an exam tomorrow, so after seeing Schleiss I decided to have a bit of sightsee, leaving him to revise. I grabbed a cheeky McDonald's and spent an hour walking around the massive bookshop, looking for something in 'intermediate' German - ended up in the kids' section, looking like a right twat. I didn't have my camera unfortunately, so I bought some fags and then went and sat in the Theatinerkirche Cathedral. Not normally the type of thing I'd do, but it looked impressive from the outside, and I was cold. I had to ask the priest to help me clamber up onto a pew, and after that, he did a small reading. It was all in German, and I didn't catch much of it as it sounded like it was in 'old' language. It wasn't much warmer in the church, so I got on the U-Bahn and came home.

My TEFL grammar course arrived to Maciek's in the post today. It'll qualify me adequately enough to teach English to foreign students. At least my letters are going to the right address.

RAUS!

I was informed that I had to leave my flat at 8.30pm on the 31st and hand the keys in. I didn't want any on the spot fines being made, so I made a good effort to mop the floors, and I even scraped each individual blob of blue-tac off the walls. Did it make any difference? Did it fuck. The Hausmeister is such an anal bastard. This is the same guy that's nearly kicked my door down twice at unearthly hours last year. The tosser should see what I did to my former residences in London - now that was REAL mess. I've had cleaners in tears before. He found an old sock wedged between the bed and wall, and so he threw it across the room at me. I picked up my stuff and fucked off without saying anything. Have fun cleaning the rest up, mate. I left a surprise for you in the toilet.