Shithead

Since Spurs can’t seem to score, and snakes are hard to come by in the Basque Country, I’ve had to find other things to pique my interest.

1. Hashing.
I like beer, and I like running, so it’s no wonder I like hashing. Hashing is a new global phenomenon where groups of people run together, following a pre-laid trail of flour, and stop every 30minutes for a beer, maybe a fag and definitely a sing-song. The Bilbao hash was organised by Collin, a good friend from Alabama, fleet of foot and loud of voice. 
Since my first hashing experience two weeks ago, running without stopping to drink and sing just seems dull and tedious. So if you see me stumbling about beside the Nervion river alone, in the rain, regurgitating a broken version of Auld Lang Syne, panique pas! I’m just training for the next hash.  

Collin (left) in merry cheer with her bag of flour.

2. Shithead
Playing cards – for when there’s no TV. Shithead is a card game where the loser is called a “Shithead” by the other players. In an attempt to avoid such condemnation, I’ve devised a few secret strategies to increase my chances of winning and thus be the purveyor, rather than the recepitent, of insults. One such technique, which YOU MUST KEEP SECRET AT ALL TIMES, is…………drumrole………….. to remember the cards that the other players have in their hands, and play your cards accordingly. Unfortunately I drank too much cheap vodka at university while playing Mario Cart with Nick, and this has had a seriously detrimental effect on my Hippocampus. Consequently I have no short-term memory. What I do to overcome this problem is………….drumrole.……….. sit on a high seat so I can see the other player’s cards. Genius in it’s simplicity, I can relax after a game of shithead knowing that I’m not a shithead. Unfortunately, because of Smirnoff, I forget about my victory a few seconds later. 

3. Art
I concede that abstract pieces often look a bit like… crap, but we live in a society where crap stuff is everywhere, so what else can one expect? The most common reproach is towards the fabled “blank canvas”. I’ve never seen a blank canvas presented as a piece of art, so I think people are making it up. Not that it really matters.
I went to the Guggenheim museum with Nick Freeman, who has little patience for bullshit, so I new I could expect him to pour scorn with no restraint. I enjoyed listening to Nick critique a pile of white plates in the middle of a huge, otherwise empty room. 
Anyway, my bedroom is light on decor, so I bought some art materials and got painting. I value my first piece at $10,012. The $12 covers the cost of the materials. It is in dollars because I still cant find the pound or euro signs on my keyboard, and I can’t be bothered to go through the “extra symbols” menu. The piece itself is $10,000 because it took 15 minutes and is made using real paint.

4. Waldo
I have a new friend called Holly. She’s American, friendly, and loves bleaching things. She gave me some peroxide-based toothpaste and now I look a little less like a crack-head. Thank you.

 

Holly has a french-bulldog called Waldo (the American equivalant of Wally). Here’s a picture… I’m sure you’ll understand my fascination.

Waldo: Snores, pukes and sleeps.