Cats

Let's talk about it. I think it's time.

Cats.

I bet if you did one of those analysis things to find out the most frequent topics discussed at Stranger, the list would look something like this:

1. The Queen of Colors and her unspeakable evil

2. Poop (other people's, obviously)

3. All of my cats

A person who only occasionally wanders through here (and then probably spends the rest of the day confused) might feel that my discussion of the subject is a bit schizophrenic. And the question everyone would like to know the answer to, how many cats does Eli have, is one that perhaps not even I can answer.

Plane Crash

I wrote this on the last few pages of a book I was reading while on the plane from Istanbul to New York yesterday. Spoiler alert: I made it home without dying.

So we hopped onto a plane to head home and that's when we all practically died.

Now I know what you're all thinking.  "Eli, do you mean to tell me that you spent 5 days in Istanbul and all you have to say about it is that a naked fat man ripped your skin off of you for pay? Also, your muscles on your arms seriously look huge!"

First of all, thank you for noticing. I haven't even been working out; just eating a lot.

And second, maybe you didn't hear the part where I said that we all practically died on the plane!

Turkish Hamam

I am soakıng wet from a raın storm and trying to write an update for you to the sounds of a very loud call to prayer outside, the loud ramblings of a smoking computer attendant, and a totally strange keyboard with letters in other places than I am used to. Plus it has a lot of keys that I've never seen before. Like this ç and ü.

What this means, fırst of all, is that we have escaped Bulgaria.

We got out of Plovdiv on perhaps the dirtiest train that has ever roamed the planet. At one point Krishelle asked us whether we would rather drink a shot of someone's vomit or drınk a shot of juıce squeezed out of the seats on that train. Without hesitation I chose the former.

But we made it to Plovdiv Bulgarıa, whıch we had been promısed would be the land of dreams compared to Sofıa. And I guess, compared to Sofıa, ıt was. But admıttedly every place you've ever been ın your entıre lıfe ıs the land of dreams compared to Sofıa.

Food Massacre in Krakow

Dear Strangers,

There's a pigeon feather on my foot right now. I just noticed it. It's from the squawking pigeon we just saw get squashed by a car driving past us. That squashed pigeon is sort of like a metaphor for our experience in Bulgaria so far.

But first, since I last left you, we finished out our time in L'viv. After another great day there, we gathered our excessive amount of travel belongings and hiked the entire length of the now dark and probably exceedingly dangerous midieval town. Nothing too terrifying happened along the way but during the expedition down the non-lit streets, the warnings of Bob and Cathie screamed inside my head. Bob and Cathie are non-to-keen about any of their children traveling anywhere more dangerous than Jackson Hole Wyoming (unless there's a bear problem there--then pick some other safe place and replace it for purposes of this example). And in fact, Bob sent me an email this morning, mostly in all caps, warning us about the terrorists that I would have thought were probably in my hotel room after reading the message if I didn't know any better.

But seriously B and C, thank you for worrying about me. I feel totally safe over here and we are all keeping our eyes open. Love you.

Not Sleeping in Ukraine

Hi Strangers,

It's been an exhausting few days in the land of bobushkas. I have not slept in days. I currently look like an old man. But I'm pretty happy.

I tried to get a head start on what I knew would be a questionable sleeping schedule by drugging myself on a long international flight last Tuesday, taking a pair of Ambien. I don't remember much after that except that when I finally came to several hours later, all passengers within 14 rows of me were staring in my direction like someone had just tried to do the limbo naked while yelling "bomb" on the plane. Also, my shirt was on backwards. But that may have been the case before I took the Ambien. I really don't remember.

Wrapping Up SLC

Well strangers, I'm out of my apartment for good. Sorry if you were trying to stalk me and you just found out where I was living. I promise to give you enough information in future blog posts to piece together my whereabouts again so you can come and murder me with an ax. Honestly though, I would prefer if you did it in a less gruesome way. Also, if you're going to take Paul Cyclemon, he'll need a new chain soon. And I swear Larry smelled that way when I bought him.

Daniel, Krishelle, and I will embark on a couchsurfing survival quest through parts of eastern Europe tomorrow as a final adventure before the next great one in Palau. Stay tuned for some dramatic and strange stories over the next few weeks. And if you could all call 911 on about Thursday and let them know I'm in lots of trouble and need an ambulance and a fire truck, there's a pretty good chance it will be true and I'll be happy you cared enough to send help.

Imagine No Possessions

My apartment looks like a war zone. It's so horrific. Like, if they brought a camera in and filmed it, the news would have to edit the footage before airing it on television.

It has been said that every person who has walked into my apartment this week has had to start taking Prozac to continue functioning.

Strangers, I'm in a battle with my things. So far, everyone is a casualty.

I got a stack of boxes, placed them in the center of the front room, and started carefully sifting through each of my items. During the course of this organizing and packing process, I went through all of the stages of grief in a never-ending loop.

I hate moving.

More Pictures from My Phone

This weekend I bring you more pictures from my phone. It's fun for me to glance through these and look at the captured bits of life I run into, mostly here in Salt Lake City. (Wow, I'm so poetic). Some of these pictures I may have posted on the Facebook page. Sorry if seeing them a second time ruins your life. And by the way, please like stranger on Facebook if you haven't already. It's just not the same over there without you (he says impersonally to everyone at once).

Bob and Cathie at their best

Moving & Prostitution

Moving is truly the worst thing ever. I'm revising my list.

5. Animals
4. Grocery Shopping
3. A bunch of other stuff that's also miserable
2. Glee
1. Moving

I know. Moving is listed as worse than Glee. I'm sure that will change again once the new season starts. But for now, moving is seriously the worst thing ever.

And it feels especially horrible right now because, guess what, I'm moving to another country. One that I have never been to before. One that I probably still can't point out on a map because I've been too lazy to look it up. (I crossed out that last part because I'm too embarrassed for you to see it).

So here's the thing. I have to be out of my apartment by the end of next week. But I'm not going to Palau until the end of next month. That's a one month forced head-start on the move to the other side of the planet. Also, let's hear it for homelessness!

I am SO going to cramp Bob and Cathie's style when all their friends come over to play Canasta.

Sleep Talking

Summerfest happened. And I served food. And got a lot of it on me.

I lived the dream.

The festival went on for exactly 12 million hours. And we were there through all of it. Well, not me. I have this thing called a job right now, with an ever-approaching final day and an infinite amount of work to get done. But I was there in the evenings, and then all day Saturday. And that still felt like 12 million hours.

It was great to meet so many of you there. Thank you so much for stopping by and saying hello. I'll just assume the rest of you were too ashamed of me for failing the Ironman to show up. I understand. Or you were caught in a tornado. Or the Queen of Colors attacked you!

Ok, now I'm getting worried.

I just called 911. They wouldn't let me file a missing person's report for thousands of people I don't actually know. Now I have to come looking for you myself. Please wear orange for the next little while so it will be easier to spot you. Also, if you have cheese cake waiting, that would be awesome.