Hungarian Toilet Water

After a day or two in Bratislava, we took a train to Vienna where a very angry Uber driver yelled at us in several languages we could not identify before dumping us out onto the street in front an airbnb apartment we had booked.

Skylar, who decided to come late to the party flew into Vienna later that night, just in time to force us to go to a symphony that was so boring that if you took my pulse at any point during the performance you would have discovered that I actually had a negative heartbeat, which means that the symphony was not just taking time out of my present. It was somehow taking life away that I had already lived.

I posted about this on Instagram and somebody excitedly asked what the orchestra played, to which I responded "EXACTLY." This person is a conductor or music chief or whatever the hell the person is called so I probably now have one less Instagram friend.

Vienna was lovely and without much drama, until the last night when we decided it was time to try to book an airbnb for our next city, Budapest.

Castles

In the last 24 hours I have ended up very naked in a castle and shaken down by angry Slovakian authorities. Yes, these were two separate incidences. Yes, knowing something about my travel history, you had good reason to ask.

Let me step back and explain.

We left that slaughterhouse in the country after noticing that the vast majority of the dishes in the kitchen had lipstick stains in places I never in my life considered areas on which someone might put a mouth.

We climbed into our car and pointed it west toward the Slovakian central mountains.

Every twenty minutes or so, the trees would clear and a GIANT castle on top of a mountain would come into view. And when I say "giant," I mean like "we thought the castle was the just the top half of the mountain until we got close enough and realized that what we thought was God's doing was actually the doing of some very sad people who probably had terrible backs but Jane Fonda level buns of steel from having to haul eleventy million rocks up to the top."

Slovakian Ramblings

I took a flight from Salt Lake City on Thursday night. A flight to another flight to another flight to another flight to maybe a portal of some kind and then I think to a horse and buggy followed by that one car from Back to the Future, and after eleven hundred hours of being on moving things and not sleeping and being coughed on by strangers, I ended up in Krakow Poland.

My friends, Anna and Emily, joined me on the journey. They had never seen Krakow before and I would be lying if I told you that 78% of the reason we went was not so I could take them to this underground restaurant I found several years ago called Babci Malina's where this old lady screams at you and then gives you more comfort food than any human should ever try to consume.

We were eating said comfort food a few minutes after arriving in the city. And then we were off to go church-exploring, because every time I end up in Eastern Europe I think I'm catholic or Russian Orthodox.

There's this very old and very massive church in the middle of Old Town in Krakow. I had been in it before. The place has always confused me because it has a very large chapel, and then a series of long stone-walled corridors that lead to nowhere. But the corridors are usually blocked by various black gates.

Duncan's First Haircut

Mr. Duncan Doodle was starting to look like a homeless dog because of his scraggly hair. I was terrified to take him to get a haircut because let me remind you of that one time Mr. Pants got a haircut and went from this:

To this:

Episode 15: The World of Perspective

Obviously I'm going to start this by reminding you that if you haven't gotten your Strangerville Live tickets for our May 12 show, you should do it now.

I sometimes treat you people like you have Alzheimer's. It's how I get away with using the same jokes over and over again on Stranger. I bet if you did a full survey, you would discover that there have only ever been like seven jokes on Stranger in its entire history, and nearly half them are about puberty.

NOT THAT WE KNOW WHAT PUBERTY IS.

Speaking of Alzheimer's, today's episode of Strangerville is sort of about Alzheimer's Disease. Episode 15 is one that I'm particularly proud of. I've been wanting to produce it for some time and I was finally able to get all of the parts together that I needed for it. Please enjoy. And if you haven't done so yet, please do what the kids are calling "subscribe" and follow Strangerville on what the kids are calling "phone-a-ma-jigs."

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Ollie has been staying with me this whole week for reasons that aren't entirely clear considering that Matt is in town. But the point is, the other day I had to give him and Duncan a bath because at least one of them smelled like poop so everyone was punished for this. So we all got into the shower because I don't believe in making them do things I'm unwilling to do. Of course, drying them was a nightmare since their entire bodies are hair. And finally, after everything was done, they really wanted to go outside and literally the first thing they did when they got there was take a unison flying leap into a pile of mud.

So now I have zero dogs.

Here are your Pictures & Distractions:

Snow Canyon

The Neighbor's Tree

One quick word on Strangerville Live: I did what the kids are calling "the social medias" and made an actual Facebook event page. Do us a solid and go join that page and invite all twelve trillion people you know to it.

Also, in case you need a reminder:

Then Meg Tweeted this:

My Big Announcement and Stuff

First, an exciting announcement: I'm pregnant.

Ok. I'm not pregnant. I just haven't used that never-was-funny-in-the-first-place-why-is-it-a-repeat joke in a while. Although, it's kind of truer today because I was in a car for six hours and I had to pee so much that I swear I actually started having contractions.

I know what those are since I've recently experienced the full range of parenthood and every single responsibility that comes with it because I adopted my puppy in February.

Where was I. Oh, yes: an exciting announcement that has nothing to do with my nonexistent ovaries.

We are hosting a second Strangerville Live show in Salt Lake City, at Impact Hub, on Friday May 12,  at 8:00 PM.

Our next show will feature the following four storytellers:

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Very late. So tired. Only one of us is in his onesie and it's not the human one of us.

Happy weekend, all. With love, Stranger.

And their bodies almost make a heart, too. 

The Lost Journal Series, Part XIII

Today I give you the next edition of The Lost Journal Series.

March 14, 1995 (10 years old):

If I had to disect a cat I would throw up. Even though I hate cats it would still be sick. I hate disecting things mostly because they stink and if it was the other way around they would disect us. I hate tests especially math tests. Who invented math. Maybe people did but it would of been hard. you would have to be really smart and I hope THEY ARE PROUD OF THEMSELVES.

The Great Neutering

As you are aware, Mr. Duncan Doodle got neutered last week.

It was every bit as dramatic as it sounds.

I was required to deposit him in the neighborhood home for lost dreams at 8:00 in the morning. Mr. Doodle had no idea why we were there, even though I had tried to explain it to him through the use of such children's books as "You Were Smaller Than A Dot" and "Why Your Testicles Are Being Sawed Off."

NOT THAT WE KNOW WHAT TESTICLES ARE.

When we pulled up in the parking lot, Mr. Doodle bolted for the door. He could hear the animals inside and so, I assume, believed we had arrived at a McDonald's Playplace for puppies, which WHY DOES THAT NOT EXIST. But by the time we arrived inside and Mr. Doodle took inventory of the half dozen shaking terrified dogs sitting wide-eyed and horrified next to their owners, coupled with the warning calls of tortured animals in the back room, Mr. Doodle's entire attitude changed.

A woman with so many tattoos that she is technically a different race now screamed instructions to me over the sounds of backroom despair, telling me to sign 17 dozen forms acknowledging that my puppy was probably going to die from this. Or, at least never love me again.