Celebration Shenanigans

It seems like college, for most people, is a great achievement. Some kind of crucible that must be traversed in order to emerge from the follies of high school and be welcomed into adulthood. Like most things in life, I tend to disagree with the general population. The crucible isn't college, it's a real job. I've been working full-time as a 9-1-1 dispatcher for over three years now, and I feel like I've learned a lot more about the world from that work than I ever even tried to learn in college. Perhaps that's because college really is useless. Perhaps it's because after working forty hours a week, then taking eighteen college credits, college just hasn't been any kind of enjoyable for me. Correction, I hated my most recent college, my alma mater - The University of Arkansas. Fuck that place. I appreciated my time at the community college from which I graduated with an Associate of Arts. And despite the complete lack of freedom from the military college I attended, I learned a lot there and wouldn't trade that experience for anything - nor the people I met there. They're amazing and I'm lucky to have gotten to know each and every one of them. Even the private liberal arts college I attended in Pennsylvania was a wonderful experience. The University of Arkansas was like a hell I was required to suffer through. Having traversed the six year trail of mental endurance and successfully regurgitated useless information time and time again, I decided that after finishing my final final on Tuesday, this photo was not only appropriate, but completely necessary.

Me flipping off Old Main - the Uni's oldest building

Tuesday was my final final of undergrad, and Wednesday was my 23rd birthday. Naturally, a party was in order. Nothing big and fancy, just myself and several friends heading to the bar to get white girl wasted. Actually, allow me to rephrase. I got white girl wasted. I'm not sure how drunk everyone else got, but to be honest, that's not the only thing I don't really remember from that night. I remember my best friend Juli and I deciding before we left that we were going to go as lumbersexuals. We arrived at the bar around 9, and before the clock hit 10, I'd had at least seven different drinks, to include an Irish car bomb. I was able to convince my gracious brother that a bear fight was not something I could handle. I was barely able to handle the Irish car bomb. I'm a lightweight. Judge away.

Me as a lumbersexual

Juli and I as lumbersexuals

Typically, my hand-eye coordination is miserable at best. When I throw a Frisbee, baseball, football, or basketball, I look like a retarded kid trying to hump a goat. Sober. When I've been drinking I magically transform into some kind of super star like Kobe Bryant or Tom Brady. That's why, when Juli challenged my drunk ass to play foosball, she was wrong in thinking it would be an easy win for her. After beating her by a meager seven points, I decided to celebrate my victory with a nap. On the foosball table. This signaled the beginning of the end for me. I vaguely remember throwing up in the toilet, and my big brother Evan (thank God for him) carrying my drunk ass out to the car. I also remember trying to puke in the rock garden by our front door on the way in the house. I was probably unconscious by the time they got my into bed, because I don't really remember how I got there either. My family takes good care of me though. I woke up at 730 the next morning with three bottles of water, a sandwich, and a bottle of ibuprofen on my night stand. I promptly skipped the ibuprofen, chugged a bottle of water, and scarfed the sandwich before I went searching for more food. I've never really gotten a hangover, and Thursday was no different. Juli and I eventually went out for Waffle House for lunch, and I started on a new art project. That's right, I've graduated college and I've decided to immediately revert back to kindergarten and do some art. I've been drawing, painting, distressing and writing for the last several days. It already feels like college was a lifetime ago, but I'm glad that's not true. Mostly because, if I'm still living in my parents house a year after graduation, I think I'll just forfeit. I'm honestly not 100% sure what my next career move will be. There are a few options available to me, but I haven't been able to decide which one to pursue. I'm not in a huge hurry though. After working full-time and being a full-time college student for the last several years, I'm going to take the next month or two to just relax. So here's to the next six years! May they be filled with more adventures and less stress!

Thanks for Drinking, Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving. It's supposed to be a time to give thanks and be with family and all that other bullshit they try to sell you in the hallmark commercials. How adorable. Fuck that Thanksgiving. Don't get me wrong, I love my family. But that whole, "Let's all sit around and eat and look happy" thing is kind of boring. We're not that boring. I mean, we sit around and eat and look happy, but it's probably because some of us (at least, me and my brother Evan) are hiding alcohol in our cups while playing Cards Against Humanity. That's the tame version (because my brother-in-law is a preacher and there were kids about). The not so clean version... I don't even remember what night of the week it happened on..

My brothers wanted to have a sibling night out and go to the bar. Of course, I agreed to join them and their girlfriends. The other sisters couldn't make it, but it turned out to be a good time. After I got off work, I met up with them at the bar, and was watching them play pool when this guy, probably in his late 40s or early 50s asks me to dance. There is no dance floor, and pops is already hammered. Also, I was way too sober for that. So fuck no. That didn't stop him from asking me to dance about 30 more times though.

We ate and hung out for a bit, and then one of my brothers announce that it's time to leave. I just finished eating and had only had half of my drink, so I was a little bummed, thinking the night was over. Boy was I wrong. I chugged my drink and headed out the door. Interestingly enough, pops that had been wanting to dance came with us. Apparently, this guy is friends with my brother Aaron. Fucking great. We all piled in our cars, hit the liquor store, and headed to my brother's house out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. He's lived there for a few years now and I think I've only been there twice. Normally, if I go somewhere once in the dark blindfolded, I can get back to that same place a year later with no issues. Not his house. I have no idea why, but I just haven't been able to figure it out. Thankfully, I was the last car in the pack, and I keep up well.

Once we made it to my brother's house, we found someone already there, passed out on the couch. He had his phone in his hand, on his face, passed out asleep. I think his name was Granger, but I don't really remember. We'll still call him Granger though. My brother Aaron (whose house we were at), walks over there and slaps this Granger in the face. He doesn't move or make a sound. The guy is dead to the world. So naturally, Aaron slaps him again. Still nothing. So he slaps him in the balls. This time, Granger adjusts his leg, but that's about it. Then, Proctor (pops who wanted to dance), starts undoing Granger's pants. To put a racoon trap on his balls. What the honest fuck? Now, Proctor is so trashed he barely gets the thing open (it looks like a bear trap, only much smaller and it doesn't have teeth, it's just smooth), and when he's trying to ever so lightly place it on Granger's crotch, it snaps closed on his hand, sending him flailing to the floor. Aaron walks towards Granger just as he wakes up to Proctor's screams, and kicks Aaron right in the face and bloodies his nose. Throughout the rest of the night, I'm constantly in fear of Aaron killing Granger. There's this look he gets when he's pissed that's similar to what a lion would give it's prey just before ripping its throat out. Only throw in a little more Satan. Perhaps give him some horns.

The night goes on for a while and we all continue our drinking. There's arm wrestling and things of the like going on, when suddenly, Proctor comes up with a grand idea. We should shoot something. Evan (my other brother) doesn't currently have any deer in his freezer, so we should go shoot one of those. Naturally, this is a grand idea. Aaron grabs 3 rifles and ammo while the rest of us refill our drinks and we all piled in Aaron's truck. Now, let's not all get carried away here. Aaron lives in the middle of fucking nowhere. We got on no commercial roads or anything of that sort, we went to Proctor's house (Proctor is also Aaron's neighbor) and went driving around in his cow pastures looking for deer. All seven of us. Aaron and Evan's girlfriends sat up front holding one of the rifles, Aaron drove with a rifle, and in the back was Evan, Me, Granger and Proctor. Evan and Proctor also both had rifles. Now, Evan, Granger, and Proctor are not small men, and while Aaron's truck is pretty roomy, it's not that roomy. So Evan rolled down the window and sat out the window with his rifle on top of the truck, looking for deer while the girls up front worked the spotlight. Aaron, Granger and I continued to drink, while Proctor passed out against the window. Every time we said his name, he started speaking something that resembled Chinese. His English vocabulary is pretty small as it is, so I'm quite certain he wasn't speaking another language. So we just continued to fuck with him throughout out quest for some venison.

We didn't see a single fucking deer. But, what we did see was an armadillo. And a cat. Both of which made for good target practice for Aaron and Evan. Because our escapade was going so poorly, Aaron decided we should go to where the deer are at night. The woods. In a truck. I remember it registering that we were going into the woods, but I don't remember how we got so deep into the woods, or how long it took. I do, however, remember Aaron saying, "alright, let's get out of here" and gunning it down the hill, towards the field. I also remember Ashton (Aaron's GF) yelling "STOP! THERE'S A - " Boom! The truck goes from its upright position and almost flips onto the drivers side. Evan bashes his head on the roof of the truck and drops his rifle, which I somehow caught, and we wind up back on all four wheels and fly down the rest of the hill. Once we got to the bottom, we all get out to for a minute. Mostly because Aaron and Evan both have to pee. I should have needed to pee, since Granger's drink had effectively soaked me, but for some reason I didn't. Yet. I was an entire 6 pack of cider, some moonshine, a margarita, and only God knows what else into the night, but I still didn't need to go. Ashton informed Aaron that he ran over a tree stump in the middle of the woods. Imagine that. Aaron looked at the front of his truck and decided it was still drivable, so we all piled back in and headed back to the house. Now, I'm no mechanic, but if your truck makes funny noises every time you hit the brakes, turn the wheel, or touch the accelerator, it's probably fucking broken. Also, if you hit a tree stump with one wheel going fast enough to almost tip your truck over, you probably need an alignment. That's none of my business though.

We all made it back to the house in one piece and headed for bed. At least, most of us... I wish I still had the pictures from that night, but my phone broke, so sadly, they've been lost. Even the one of me wearing a Big Foot costume which I found in Aaron's guest bathroom. I have no idea why it was there, what Aaron did to get it (he doesn't purchase such things. He wins them in bets or steals them), or what kind of diseases were crawling around in it, but I put it on anyway. I seriously need to start backing that shit up somewhere.. Aaron fell asleep sitting upright on a sub-woofer next to the TV. I don't typically sleep much or well when I drink, and wound up drunk calling a friend and talking to him for the following three and a half hours until I was sober enough to sleep for a mere two hours. When I woke up, despite having slept by myself that night, I woke up wearing someone else's pants. I later remembered that they were Ashtons and she had given them to me since my jeans were soaked in Granger's green apple crown and sprite mixture. I found my clothes and resisted the urge not to push Aaron off the sub-woofer and headed out while everyone else was still passed out. Somehow, someway, I eventually found my way back home.

That's how Thanksgiving is supposed to happen.

Yeah, I Forgot...

I knew I was going to forget I had this..

Virtually nothing has happened since my last post. Except school.. School has happened. It's my last semester and I'm trying to figure out ways to graduate without even attending classes. So far, it hasn't worked. Not for lack of creativity, but because I'm one of those people who can't half-ass things very well. I'm either going to quit, or I'm going to do damn good at it. I'll procrastinate and do it at the last minute, but it's still going to be awesome.

A couple weekends ago I had a black tie affair to go to. AKA, "prom" at the drop zone (where I skydive).

Of the photos taken from that night, this is the only one I'm willing to show. It was entirely too fun, but some stories are better left untold. What happens at the DZ, sometimes needs to stay at the DZ. I will say though that I got to ballroom dance for the first time in several years. That alone could have made my night. I love ballroom dancing, though I was more than a little rusty at it. 

The next day was beautiful and I just got new Shimano Deore XT BR-M785 hydraulic disc brakes put on my mountain bike, so I went riding. The brakes were absolutely incredible! I thought my old brakes (Avid Juicy 3) were good. Welcome to having things that work. I was having entirely too much fun and decided to go off a jump at the bottom of my favorite trail. I've gone off this jump a million times and I've never wrecked. Any time Thomas has gone with me, he tells me not to go off it because the way it's set up is just a recipe for disaster. I went off it for the million and first time, only this time, my rear shock was still locked out. I guess that was the last ingredient I needed to spell disaster. I ate it, and Thomas finally got to tell me he told me so. Two weeks later and my knees, albeit no longer swollen, are still bruised.

I'm afraid this must conclude my post. Perhaps I'll get the chance to do something exciting this weekend since there's a biker rally in town. Until next time, I've reached the limits for procrastination on this policy memo I have to write.. Time to get that done..

All Good Things Must Go Out With A Bang

This past Monday and Tuesday was my last work weekend before my last semester of school starts up. Naturally, with it being a weekend, I avoided mediocrity. Monday was my work week Saturday, and I spent pretty much the whole time trying to fix Robert, my mountain bike. Yes, I named my mountain bike. Judge away. I'd like to note that I recently acquired a friend named Robert, and they have nothing to do with each other. I did, however, let it slip one time that I was "gonna go ride Robert" and have since then gotten a barrage of jokes about myself and the human Robert. The bike Robert's rear brake has been broken for a while. Last time I tried to ride it, the brake locked up and wouldn't release, then the handle wouldn't return to it's original position. I took it to the shop that usually does my repairs (I'm not the most mechanically inclined person, but for the most part, I'm just too lazy to do repairs myself) and they told me the brakes just need to be bled. Despite my skepticism, I paid them to bleed the brakes. Which they didn't. They told me they did, but they didn't, and when I argued, the guy just argued back. I decided to get a second opinion, and not take my bike back there ever again. The consensus is that 1) the brakes I have (Avid Juicy 3s) are kinda crap in the first place 2) they have lasted me 7 years, even if they were good brakes to begin with, it's time to retire them 3) at the very least, the handle needed to be rebuilt, but more than likely, they just need to be replaced. The rebuild kit I found was only $10, so I bought it and gave it a shot.

This is Robert

This is the bike stand I rigged

About the time I gave up

 Needless to say, I failed miserably. I rebuilt the handle successfully, but I still couldn't get the brakes to bleed. My friend Dave had just bought his first mountain bike that day and was determined to ride. He is also an aircraft mechanic, and decided to try and fix my brakes for me so we could go ride. He also gave up. I hadn't ridden Robert in all too long though, so we went riding anyway. Him with a fully functioning mountain bike fresh off craigslist, and me with an older bike completely lacking a rear brake. I never use my front brake when I ride. How I survived that ride is beyond me. I have ordered a new rear brake. Trying to install it will likely be an adventure in and of itself.

Tuesday was my last "Adventure Tuesday" with my friend Lacy (we both have Tuesdays off, so we go do something adventurous and call it Adventure Tuesday). She is switching days off and I have to start school back up - shoot me now. Lacy and I decided our last Adventure Tuesday would be well spent trying and discover this neat swimming hole along the Ozark Highlands Trail. For those of you interested, this is supposed to be 5 miles west of the Haw Creek Falls campground (along highway 123) on the Ozark Highlands Trail near Cedar Creek Campground.

Swimming hole off the Ozark Highland Trail near Cedar Creek

Unfortunately, about a mile into our hike, Lacy got really sick and we had to turn back. Like, puked everywhere and my dog Xena wanted to eat it sick. Honestly though, that was probably for the best. Despite our efforts with bug spray, we are both completely ate up with chiggers and seed ticks. The day wasn't a complete loss though. The Haw Creek Falls Campground where you start the hike is actually pretty nice. Apparently, it's a lot nicer when it rains though.

What Haw Creek Falls usually looks like

What Haw Creek Falls looked like when we were there

Haw Creek when we were there

As pitiful as the falls were, the water still felt awesome, and I still jumped in after we got back from our short hike. I might have drug Xena in with me. She hates swimming. And heights. I drag her in the water and to the edge of cliffs with me all the time. I don't know why that dog still puts up with me. That just goes to show you how loyal dogs are, even when their owners are ass holes.




After I got home, I immediately left. My friend Dave has a couple 50cc dirt bikes (yes, the ones built for 5 year olds), and we've been meaning to take them out for a while. Near where he lives there's a huge spider web of dirt roads and back roads that don't even look like roads that are perfect for exploring. I had survived riding a mountain bike without rear brakes the day before, surely a 50cc dirt bike on actual roads wouldn't be that bad. I wrecked. But only once. I would just like to say, a dirt bike that's smaller than you is pretty squirly. Especially when you've got it all the way out, your center of gravity is way higher than it should be, and you hit a death cookie (a large, loose rock in the middle of the road). I really only got a scratch, but it made me realize, I haven't had a good wreck or even so much as a scratch since I cut my elbow to the bone during my last triathlon in 2011. I'm not sure if that means I'm much better at not getting hurt, or if I haven't been pushing it hard enough.

My injury from my scrap with the death cookie

Later, during our ride on the 50's, Dave and I stumbled across this gem. A graveyard. In the middle of the woods off some back country road that hasn't even been traveled enough to keep the weeds down. Creepy, right? Someone has been keeping up with it though. Two of the headstones had been replaced or updated, but everyone died before WW1. This poor couple had two sons who both died very young. The second photo is of one of their headstones. The date of death is 19 Aug 1912. We found the graveyard on 19 Aug 2014, 102 years later. Creepy. We quickly decided this is how horror movies started and we needed to leave before we found ourselves face to face with an axe murderer or ghost child.

The two updated headstones

Check out the date of death

Redneck target practice area

 The next thing we stumbled upon was apparently a redneck shooting ground. While this find was less creepy than the first, it was more likely that we would wind up face to face with a dangerous character in this spot. Surprisingly, neither of us were packing heat. Honestly not sure how that happened. So when we started hearing gunfire coming from about 150-200 meters away, we jumped back on the bikes and hauled ass out of there.

Unfortunately, that pretty well brings an end to my last real weekend of the year. Considering that my summer more or less ended with gunshots and no injuries, I'm calling it a pretty good ending. That's not, however, the end of the years adventures. There will be several more to come.

"Well, there goes that antibiotic.."

While driving home from Houston Monday, I came across this view. I could hear the river and I was so tired I was desperate for nap near it. Alas, I felt I couldn't drive off the cliff, nor climb into the ravine if I wanted to make it home that night. So I did the next best thing. I texted my friends Lacy and Shelby and told them we would be camping Tuesday night. Apparently, it was a wonderful idea, because they both agreed.

The view that inspired our camping trip

So after I got home Monday night, I unpacked, and repacked. We met up, and headed to Devils Den State Park. After we got there, I suggested we start on the booze early and wait to put up our tents until we were thoroughly intoxicated. Thankfully, we decided against that. It was eventful enough sober.

Me putting up my hammock and Shelby watching in amazement

This is me trying to put my hammock up. That's right, I don't sleep in a tent. I sleep in a hammock when I camp. And yes, I am standing on the side of the tree. There was a tiny knob there that provided me with just enough traction to stand on.

My idea of a tent

Here's the finished product, self included. It's actually quite comfortable and I'll probably never sleep on the ground again if I can help it. Of course, I put my sleeping bag and pillow in there later.


Once we got everything set up, we decided it was time for margaritas. Unfortunately, we forgot to bring cups. Lacy and Shelby both chugged bottles of water to pour theirs in. I'm a little more sophisticated. I like my margarita dressed. Actually, I need it dressed. I have an unhealthy obsession with salt. We had eaten at Sonic on our way there, and I still had my sonic cup. Lacy came up with the most genius idea ever for the salt.

An idea worth patenting

Here it is. Salt in the lid of a sonic cup. Best idea ever. Especially since you can never get enough salt on the rim of a glass to do justice for the margarita within.

Once we had our drinks ready, we headed for a trail up the side of the mountain. Wise choice? Yes. Unfortunately, we didn't take nearly enough margaritas for our 3 mile hike. I was finished long before we got to the top of the mountain and tried to steal Shelby's from her. She tried to stab me, so I gave it back.

About 3/4 of the way up, we came to a small bluff, and I have a thing for sitting on the edge of cliffs, so I had to sit for a minute. I dropped the only water bottle we brought with us, and Lacy and Shelby started harassing me for littering the forest, even though there were several other things down there. So I did the only thing I could. I jumped off the 30 foot bluff.. To a tree which I shimmied down.

Me taking a selfie before I shimmied down the tree

Here's me, on the tree. But before I shimmied down it, I had to take a selfie. I think this is the closest Xena (my dog in the pic) has ever come to a bluff willingly. She's scared of heights. The entire time I was down there, they said she cried and whined, trying to find me. How sweet.

After finding the litter I so carelessly scattered to the forest floor below, I tried to throw it back up on the bluff. And failed. Miserably. I hit the side of the bluff and the water bottle busted. No more water. In case we were planning on sobering up or staying hydrated on this hike (which we weren't), our chances were now ruined. Thus, I started my venture to get back up the bluff. The tree I had shimmied down was too far away from the bluff for me to jump back from the tree to the bluff, so I had to find another way. My movie education saved me once again. Thankfully, Lacy and Shelby had seen the same movie. Mulan.

Climbing the tree like Mulan

They sat on the edge of the bluff and sang to me the whole time. They didn't know the words, but "Did they send me daughters?! .... Something about sons!" came up several times. I couldn't stop laughing, greatly hindering my ability to make it up that tree, which is a lot harder than it looks. I had bark and a dog leash. How Mulan did it with her strip of cloth and a telephone pole is beyond me. She's seriously my hero.

We made it to the top and back down without further incident. Aside from me continuously trying to steal Lacy and Shelby's margaritas. Which didn't work. We got back to the camp and I promptly poured more margarita for myself and left them to fend for themselves. Shelby brought some kind of fire starter, which I completely consider cheating when building a camp fire. But the slight intoxication made me more compliant. The fire was supposed to be Shelby's job, but once it got dark, Shelby and Lacy were both too scared to go into the woods. So I did. And I'll note that I had several more margaritas. Xena stayed at the camp, but every time she whined or barked I figured there was a mountain lion about to pounce on me and I was saved only by my drunken stumbles. How I ever made it back with enough wood to keep the fire going is beyond me, but I kept it pretty large.

The usual camping followed. Lots of margaritas, fire, hot dogs, and wildly inappropriate stories which I shouldn't share here. The next morning I woke feeling rather refreshed and decided a good jog was in order. It was freezing and I needed some way to warm up. So, I grabbed Xena and the leftover hotdogs and jogged up the mountain to the first bluff with sunlight on it to warm me up while we had breakfast. I'll admit, the view wasn't bad either.

My view for breakfast

This is where Xena and I had our breakfast. Not bad, right? Shortly after I descended the mountain we had to start packing up our campsite. Again, Lacy and Shelby had to convince me that sobriety was probably best for this endeavor. We were almost out of margaritas anyway. I took home all the leftovers, making me quite the happy camper.

END.

Houston, we have a Loewer.

I love vacations. I wish I could always be on vacation. And be rich. I need to win the lottery.. I would have to spend money on it in the first place though, so that's never going to happen.

Friday, I left right after I got off work at 5AM to drive to Houston to see Sean and Weaver, who just moved there. It took entirely too long to get there. But I got to drive under overpasses in Dallas. Quite possibly one of my most favorite things. Yes, I am easily entertained.

After I got there, we went to the zoo and deliberately disobeyed the signs to not climb on statues.

Saturday we drove down to Galveston. We had initially planned to get surfing lessons, but everywhere we found that did them wanted 24-48 hours notice. We don't plan that far in advance. So instead, I rented a surfboard the size of a house, and we made a go at it ourselves. No lessons, no youtube videos to teach us. Just what we once saw on TV several years ago. It took me all day to figure it out. And by figure it out I mean some guy who knew what he was doing eventually came out and I watched him for about 20 minutes to figure out what I was doing wrong. To be completely honest, I only had to watch him stand up once to figure out what I was doing wrong (not paddling with the wave first), but he was some kind of fine. I thought any longer than 20 minutes and he would get the feeling that I was going to kidnap him and make a skin suit out of him. So I went about my merry way. I did eventually teach myself to ride a wave. I'm super skilled like that. Again though, the board was the size of a house.

If ever I go back to the beach.. or anywhere else the sun shines for all hours of the day, remind me to take extra sunscreen. And lip balm with sunscreen in it. My lips are burnt and blistered to hell. Honestly, drinking out of a straw is about to be impossible. Side note - yes, I do realize those sunglasses are the same ridiculous shades all the frat boys and sowhores wear. They're my wanker shades.

Sunday we left Houston again to go to Six Flags Fiesta. I love roller coasters. I also get motion sickness. I was car sick the whole way there, then we started riding rides. Needless to say, I was pretty much sick the whole day. It was still a blast though!

This is myself, Sean, and Weaver on one of the rides. Sean didn't get the memo to smile. Don't tell anyone we had our phones out taking pictures on the ride, they'll probably sue for copyright infringement or something.

After we got back, I packed up all my crap and left early the next morning. I took a different route so I could stop and see an old friend. Sadly, there weren't any overpasses, but this was somewhere in Oklahoma.

I had to stop. One, because it was beautiful. Two, because I was stuck behind an 18-wheeler going 30 MPH and if I didn't get out from behind him for a little while, I was going to go postal. I could hear the river entirely too well and all I wanted to do was climb down to the river and take a nap. This inspired the camping trip I decided to take the next day. It was rather interesting. I'll save it for next time though. Until then..

Credit cards in Europe?

As you all may know, I'm planning a 2 month hostel-to-hostel trip to Europe. It's going to be my first trip abroad, so I'm trying to make sure I cover all my bases to make sure nothing insane goes wrong and I get stuck somewhere, however wonderful that might be. So I've talked to a few of my globe-trotting friends.

My friend Thomas, who has been all over Europe, had a good piece of advice for me. He said to make sure I got a credit card with $0 foreign transaction fees, otherwise they would rack up pretty quick and I would end up owing a fortune. Simple, right? Not so much. I spent a good two days looking for the right credit card. One with good rewards, no yearly fee, and no transaction fees is easy to find (I don't worry about the APR since I always pay mine off every month) if you have great credit and are some kind of big spender. Let's be clear. My credit is awesome. When I bought my car last year it was around 780 and I've been building since then. I am not, however, a big spender. I limit the things I buy with my credit card to make sure I never go over what I can actually afford. And I don't afford a lot. At least, not from that account. Well, eventually I got the bright idea to look at my current credit card benefits. BOOM. There it was. My current credit card has no transaction fees. I thought the search was over. I was wrong.

Apparently, in order to travel around Europe with a credit card, you need more than a magnetic strip. In addition to your magnetic strip you need an EMV chip in your credit card (An EMV chip is much harder to duplicate than a simple magnetic strip, making it much safer to use. Especially abroad).  Well, since the US hasn't caught on to this technology yet (the EU started all of this in 1994. That's TWENTY years ago, y'all), we don't have them on a lot of cards. Mine certainly doesn't. So, I'm back on the search. I think I've found a couple that would suit my needs, I just need to quit being lazy and pick one.

Really though, America, why are we 20 years behind this EMV curve? We have tons of companies selling anti-identity theft stuff all over the place. All the hoops you have to jump through if someone steals your card is ridiculous. If this simple little EMV chip can help prevent a lot of that... WHERE YA AT, AMERICA?! 

Introduction

I suppose I'm starting this thing back up. Not that it ever got off the ground in the first place, but we'll see where it goes this time. The purpose of this blog is mostly going to be more of a journal for me, I think. I've decided that since I'm going to be going on tons of adventures in the future, I should have something other than just pictures to remember them by. I'd like to go back and read what kinds of awesome, stupid, or strange things I did. If anyone else wants to read along, then all the better.

So let's start off. My first and second adventure of this blog are kind of starting at the same time. I'm headed to see some friends in Houston this weekend (woot woot!), and I've finally decided that I'm going to Europe. I'm not just talking about it anymore (like I have for years). I have dates, I put in for a leave of absence from work (which has been tentatively granted), I know which rail pass to get, I have my list of destinations, and I've started buying stuff. This is happening. For two months. It's gonna be awesome, y'all.

Anyway, there's my intro. Perhaps you can learn from the mistakes I'll most certainly make along the way, and I might even realize those mistakes and have some pointers for future travelers. Read along if you wish. Live vicariously through me. Laugh at me. Laugh with me. Be bored with me. Forget this exists (because I probably will). Let's just do it.