Life on the Wild Side, Holland Holidays, Part One.

This holiday in Holland is really nothing for retired old couples and alike (unless you opt to sit in the Canal boats in Amsterdam all day long). Things here are, as expected, non-stop wild 24/7. A typical day consists of the following: first wake up from the alarm clock at 9.30 (with alco headache and ciggie throat), since we made a promise the other day to go down in time for breakfast the next day, before they stop serving the powder-milk, dry cheese and plastic muesli in poorly washed plates and coffee stained glasses at about 10.00.
When we've enjoyed their culinary masterpiece, we drag ourselves and our over-full stomachs up the evily slopy stares, over and over annoyed by the cheap Rembrandt copies on the walls, as if they think their little overprice "hotel" in the middle of nowhere deserves to be decorated with his works.
On the second floor, key is inserted, door is opened and our lazy bodies crash with force on the dirty little beds, where cheap wine bottles and half-eaten bananas lay littered across our sleeping spaces (did anybody think this was a gay vacation?).

Wanna know what happened next? Stay tuned (or high, whatever), I'm not in the mood to write anymore, the Pink Floyd music echoes to loudly in my mistreated elephant ears, and I'm out of Lithium or other addictive substances. Your loss, bye.

I'm going home tomorrow :(

Liberal's Nest

Monday, 2nd July, today I´m going to Amsterdam (yes, you´re right, I am about to turn this blog into a travel diary). Flying with the best of the best, the SCANDINAVIAN Airlines (although the danes and norweigans are being slowly but steadily outmaneuvered, all due to my hard work). My only hope is that when I´m sitting there at the airport, with my spirit already in higher spheres and my special part in the red light district, that those greedy (or underpayed?) pilots and flight stewardesses (what a contrast to the hard-working, immaterialistic CEO's and shareholders, huh?) decide to do a little striking, maybe just out of boredom.
If that happens, I have no idea what to do, except start crying like a baby who had its lollipop snatched, and maybe call someone down there to go get me, because, damn, I am going to Holland one way or another!

Where´s my bitches?