The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

Ladies, Gentlemen, Chief Sniper,

The Summer hiatus of 2009 is over; new content will now again be appearing on Kjel.org on a semi-regular basis. Sorry for the delay. I was busy making preparations for and then celebrating International Bacon Day . I’m sure you understand that that took precedence over restarting this rough beast of a website.

A post about Kjel.org’s July trip to Lake Chelan, the insanity that is Yakima, and denying the Reaper while driving west on I-84 at 80 mph in 40 knot winds will be up soon. By soon I mean Monday. Maybe.

–CEO

The unannounced impromptu hiatus at Kjel.org is soon to end. I hadn’t planned on taking a break but at some point in July my Mojo abandoned me. My Muse, so to speak. She always has been the temperamental type but this time the byotch just up and R-U-N-N-O-F-T on me. I’ve lately seen her sneaking about in my backyard though so I think that very soon there will again be semi-regular content updates at Kjel.org. We’ll see.

No excuses for the lag except for the usual ones: I gots a job to keep, a family that deserves more attention than I give them, a malaise brought on by the state of the nation and the world, etc. Also, my inability to find an 800 Octane show at a venue appropriate for a four year old has taken its toll.

Kjel.org has some new stories to tell. Some or all of us have recently gone to Lake Chelan, PGE Park, to a used car lot in Vancouver, and seen other various wonders. I just saw another rustling in the bushes out behind my deck — that Muse will be back in the HQ soon. Stay tuned.

Less a narrative and more an excuse to post a bunch of pictures taken by the Man from The Dalles. A couple of mine too: you’ll know them by their cellphone camera suckitude. On to the story:

On our way to Neskowin this last weekend we took a slight detour in Tillamook. “I wonder if there is an air museum around here?” It turns out there was.

I forget how much I like the Tillamook Air Museum and what a great collection of planes they have. The lads went into every single trainer that they were allowed to; the Junior VP is now very possibly qualified to pilot an A-6. A few pics of various boys in various cockpits:

The view from the deck of our beach house. The house was very nice and in a perfect spot, but once all of us (including four lads under the age of five) moved in it was not too big. Giant deck though, and a great view. Wait, what is the deal with that guy standing on the beach?

Oh yeah. It is just the Chief Educator, flying his new Spiderman kite. The Jr. VP was very impressed.

Here is a selection of the beach house crew. A pre-trip memo went out that all of us were to wear red. I didn’t get it; apparently neither did Mrs. Aki. Everybody else did what they were told.

Another couple of members of the crew. Or would that be Crüe? Either way, the lad made a new friend this weekend.

Kjel.org on the beach.

Still more. Wait, I know those two from somewhere?

We didn’t know it at the time but there were some historic low tides at the coast while we were there. Petrified stumps that normally never see daylight were exposed out in the sand. At the lowest point I saw the waterline was at least 100 yards past Proposal Rock, the island between Neskowin and the open water. Not normal. So what did everyone do as soon as they saw the stumps? Practice their kung-fu of course. Crane Style with Beer is very powerful kung-fu, and not for the timid or weak of mind.

The Jr. VP displays his fine form. Now if I could only get him to paint the fence and wax the car too.

Of course in the evening we had a fire on the beach in front of our house. While the other kids had to go to bed, Junior was allowed to stay up past his bed time and hang out with the big kids, at least for a while. He held his own and was a fun person to have at the campfire. Well done little dude.

He loved feeding driftwood to the fire; this is my attempt to prevent a Stinkboy faceplant into said fire. It worked.

This was one of the ‘big kids’ Jr. was trying to keep up with. Mental ages? Similar.

Earlier in the day we’d played some golf at the fine Neskowin Marsh golf course (their motto: “No Shoes? No Shirt? No Problem!”) and someone perhaps neglected to put sunscreen on their neck. The only way that neck is getting redder is if I take up the banjo and move to Kentucky.

The trip was a success and thank you to everyone who went and put up with the occasional toddler screaming. See you at the Edumacators on the 4th of July.

Kjel.org and many of the usual suspects spent a long weekend at the beach a few days back. It was, as usual, AWESOME. A full report with many a picture will be coming soon, but I believe the image below correctly captures one of the aspects of this (and all) beach trips that make them so great. I am both sad and happy that the pic below did not come from my office but was instead ripped off from the internets.

More details soon.

If you think that mommy’s little unborn monster will only need (or will only be able to earn) an associate degree, let me offer you this: Give him or her the middle name of Swearengen and I will pick up the tab for two years of college. This offer only stays on the table for another week or two, so you two fuckers better make your call soon.

That is the deal, take it or leave it. In the words of the great man himself: Here is my counter-offer to your counter offer. Go fuck yourself.

1. Kjel.org went to Bellevue a few days back for my padre’s retirement party, my birfday, and just a general g-parents get to play with the lads type of weekend. Awesome of course, but just one more reason the CEO didn’t answer or return any of your calls last week. Sorry.

Some fun stuff from the trip:

a. Me, the CFO, both kids and the CEO’s mom were at the clubhouse pool early Saturday afternoon. The Jr VP was in the kiddie pool holding court. Some other little guy got in with a supercool USS Missouri-looking-pool-toy. The second the kid let go of it and looked away Stinkboy snagged it and started re-enacting portions of WWII. The kid noticed and was pissed:

Kid: “Hey! Give me back my ship!”

Jr. VP: [looking at Mommy and pointing at Kid] But he has to share!!

Mommy: “No, he doesn’t! We don’t even know that boy so give the ship back to him!”

Jr. VP [thinks a moment] Hello, what’s your name? My name is Sor__. Let’s be friends!

Bravo. It didn’t work out for him, but at least the lad is thinking. Nice try amigo.

b. In the car the Jr VP started chanting a certain ‘cheer’. I’ve no idea where he got it from but it must have been one of the other little dudes at ’school’. It got stuck in my head and for 72 hours all I could hear or think about was:

We will, we will
ROCK YOU!
SHOCK YOU!
And FLUSH you down the TOI-LET!
Don’t forget to ENJOY IT!

The “Enjoy It” part I just couldn’t get over. On Saturday in my parents back yard I gave my sister a chip out of a snack bowl and said “Don’t forget to enjoy it.” Stinkboy heard and the both of us totally cracked up; no one else had any idea why the two of us were completely overcome with laughter. That was fine though.

c. Trees are 90% air my ass. “What clubs do you want to hit?” Just give me the pitching wedge. It is the only club I need at my preferred Portland area course other than my old Billy Baroo, so I should work on that one. “Uh, OK.”

At the practice range by my parents house a certain black hole was masquerading as a tree. I sent four dozen golf balls into that ‘tree’; I recovered 6. I’ve seen Tin Cup too many times: I did not accept the fact that I could not clear that ‘tree’ until I was out at least 40 balls. “No, no, no, this time I’ll find my swing . . . ”

2. I would like to expand upon an offer conveyed to the Chief Educator the other day. I hereby promise to pay for the college education of the Chiefs Bride and Educators first spawn if said child is named thusly: If the tyke is a boy? Kjett or Kjevy is acceptable. A girl? Kjelley or M’Kjel (bonus points for the apostrophe). The middle name shall be any of the following: Wayne. Jo-Jo. Kjel-Kjel. Ronrico. Make it happen, Chief. Make it happen.

3. I realized after the fact that I missed Flag Day this year. Dammit.

4. I am moving toward an all Dri-Fit wardrobe for summer 2009. Additionally I have a sweet new pair of Adidas that I am rocking, funky fresh and yes cold on my feet. Sorry Aki. My new collection of Dri-Fit shirts has a lot of Nike Golf in it though so don’t feel too bad.

5. Clark County Amphitheatre. Def Leppard. Cheap Trick. Poison. Friday September 11 2009. It feels a bit wrong to go to a show on 9/11, but the way I figure is that if I don’t get to see Def Leppard and friends play that day, the terrorists have won. And abso-no-fucking-lutely way am I gonna let that happen on my watch. Terrorists fuck off. Def Leppard on the other hand, I want you, to want me!

6. I am little bit worried that certain things I’ve dreamt about have come to pass. Hopefully tonight I do not dream about Godzilla or a meteor hitting the earth or an epic robot apocalypse of some sort.

7. Our city is in the very best of hands:

PORTLAND, Ore. - Portland Mayor Sam Adams could lose two homes in north Portland after falling behind on his mortgage payments. The homes in question sit side-by-side on North McClellan Street in the Kenton neighborhood and both are now in pre-foreclosure. KATU obtained a copy of two notices of default against the properties, showing the mayor has not paid a mortgage payment on either home for five months. With late fees, that adds up to over $10,000 in back payments. Adams said Tuesday his financial problems stemmed from the fact that he had to pay up front for legal bills in connection with an investigation into his relationship with Beau Breedlove. While two of his properties are now at risk, the mayor vows he will get caught up.

8. Finally, is the CEO really some sort of right-wing nutjob? I may well be, since as we all know online quizes NEVER LIE:

My Political Views
I am a right social libertarian
Right: 6.29, Libertarian: 5.65

Political Spectrum Quiz

And one more thing: guess where I parked, eh?

1. Last weekend Kjel.org went to Bellevue to visit the ‘rents, and let them have some time playing with the boys. It had been several months you see and the CEO’s parents were overjoyed to get some boy-time. They went to the pool and to the park and read and played and in general had a good time. Grandma bought the Jr VP six bottles of chocolate milk; he drank them all in a 48 hour period. Also he got to sleep on a top bunk in his own bedroom one night, an then slept in the room with his GP’s the other night. He stayed up several hours after bed time watching TV with them. We paid for it in the car on Sunday but that is neither here nor there.

It is only today that my right arm is no longer sore. I spent the majority of Saturday whipping a ball around with Cousin Chuckles, and rubber-armed I am not. I really need to limit my pitch count in any future outing and remember to stick with the soft stuff.

We visited the new home of Sister E and M-Poo. Too cool. Expect a goat for your birthday this year — he’ll help with the weeds.

2. The AK has been permanently wounded for several weeks now since he adds a new one as soon as an old one can heal. I need to rename him Danger Boy, as he has no regard for his own personal safety. On Sunday afternoon he did a giant running faceplant in the kitchen and banged his face on the ground. Blood? Oh yes there was blood. At least Danger Boy knows enough to stay on the hardwood when the claret makes an appearance.

3. The CEO is in Scotsdale right now for a work thing. Son of a bitch it is hot here. I know everywhere is air-conditioned, but hell, I cracked a pretty serious sweat getting from the plane to the airport terminal. From the airport to the hotel though? Me and a collegue pimped it in style. It only cost $7 more than a regular cab ride would have. I think it was worth it.

4. Upon arriving at the hotel I took inventory of all of the things that I’d failed to pack and/or had taken from me in the PDX security line: toothpaste, hair treatment, dress socks, a computer cord, and my cell phone. Poor packing on this trip by the CEO. Amateur mistakes, but I was able to fix everything (except that damn phone) and within an hour or so I was back in business. Otherwise it was going to be dress shoes with white socks and messy hair to match today.

5. I won’t comment on the business at hand except to say this: the CEO has broken many, many laws in his life — it’s one of my goals, sort of like eating one of every animal on the planet. Today I think I can scratch off another law from my list. See you in Hell, Sherman Act!

6. After a bbq a weekend back the craziest thing was found at the HQ. A hat that looks like it was designed for a Sasquatch (or perhaps Jack-in-the-Box) was found on our couch. It was a Seahawk hat after all so there might be something to the Sasquatch / Pac NW connection. Maybe he’ll come by and get it sometime?

7. Dinner shortly with our whole crew at this place: Pepin. I am a little bit worried, as this crowd has been rambunctious in the past. Please forgive anything posted here at midnight.

I like my cars the same way I like my women. Look here to see what I mean.

Business flip-flops anyone?

I’m not writing it down, but next time I see you remind me to describe some recent silliness. It’s like I work at Dunder-Mifflin as the branch manager. He’s the smart one, right?

Go Cougs!!

I thought about some Sunday golf on Saturday night when several fine folk associated with Kjel.org (and 30% of Beaverton) got some dinner out on the lawn at this place. Policing 9 kids in the woods behind the Raccoon (nobody got hit by a car or abducted. Victory!) when I should have been enjoying beers with friends made me think of outings that by law cannot involve anyone younger than 21. A round of golf at a certain course was sounding very appealing. However, by Sunday morning I had decided against it: the CEO has to at least occasionally make an effort to step it up as a husband and father, and I’d decided that Sunday would be one of those times and I was going to blow off golf. The Edumacator however had other ideas . . .

The Chief stepped up to the plate and hit an absolutely mammoth home run. I was at the grocery store Sunday morning with the AK when the call came in from the CFO. The Educator has a 12:15 tee-time for you guys at Edgefield. You better hurry. Don’t worry I don’t need you today. [The Chief Sniper’s lovely wife] is coming over with the boys, and we are going to play at the HQ. Go have fun. If the CFO ever wonders why I like and love her so much she ought to treat Sunday as Exhibit A. I owe you one, mama.

Me and the little dude tore ass around the store, got our provisions and then headed home, again at a high rate of speed. We perhaps even exceeded the posted speed limit a time or two during our journey. I will neither confirm nor deny if this is true.

Shortly after delivering the groceries to the HQ I picked up the Chief and we headed out to Edgefield. There we met the Man from the Dalles, and our day officially began. We signed on for the 20 hole course; no half-assing it for us. No sirree. As we were paying for our round in the clubhouse the Chief HVAC technician spoke thusly, setting the tone for the rest of the afternoon: “You know what? Lets get some gin before we order our beers for hole #1!” You sir are a genius! And so our 20 hole journey began, with an excellent first step.

It was an absolutely perfect day for Edgefield golf. The course was empty, with no one at any time in front of or behind us. While I suck at golf, the least weak (I hesitate to use the word ‘best’ about any aspect of my game) clubs I swing are the putter and the wedge. Guess which two clubs you need at the pub course? I only lost about 5 balls all day which for me means it was a quality outing. The double bonus? No asswipe threw any of our clubs into the woods after we’d laid them down for a second. I hear that happens there sometimes.

The back 20 has a beer girl now who just circles the west course asking golfers if they need anything. We ran into her just as the first beers were gone and restocked: ice cold 22’s of Ruby, which was just the perfect beer for the day. It is a good thing she only took cash; otherwise I would have started ordering shots for 2/3rds of our threesome — those were on the menu as well. As it was we scraped together enough money for beer, and it was the best beer I’ve had in a long, long time. Thank you, gentlemen.

Unfortunately it was so bright that the pictures didn’t turn out well, or come even close to conveying how glorious it was out there. Below is the Educator, attempting a long putt for birdie. We played every hole as a par three, even those that topped out at 42 yards. I came into the clubhouse at about 30 over — not a bad day for me.

The Educator wisely taking advice from the 1/3 of the group that actually knew how to golf:

The view was outstanding from the top of the course. My dorky cell phone did it justice to a rate of about 10%. It did manage however to do justice to the Educator’s belly to the tune of about 150%. For anyone who hasn’t seen him in a while, trust me, it is the camera — he didn’t just put on 50 lbs while you weren’t looking.

After our round we had Linner on the patio, and then retired to the Little Red Shed for some post Linner refreshment. We all agreed that it is probably for the better that the Edgefield golf course is way the hell out in Troutdale, because if it was located on, say, the property presently occupied by Wilson High School I would spend $1,000 a year playing there. My short game would be absolutely phenomenal by now, so there is that, but probably not worth the extra grand a year.

An awesome Sunday, and just what I needed. See you guys again on Saturday.

Business. Shorts.

I hope that this anecdote is not cited 10 years from now by the court appointed psychologist. As the CFO may be quoted in the paper at that time: “The signs were there, but we just didn’t see them. Or maybe we were in denial. Or maybe I was still listening to the CEO.” On to the story:

On the drive home today it was just me and the Jr. VP; his brother stayed home today at the HQ because it looks like he has pinkeye. Again. Awesome.

Scene: CEO and boy in car on the way home after ’school’.

Jr.: Daddy, when we get home what if there are monsters at our house that want to eat me?”

Daddy: “Don’t worry about it. I will jump in front of you and tell those monsters to leave and never come back. Nobody takes a bite out of Stinkboy on my watch. Nobody.”

Jr.: [seeming slightly displeased] But what if the monsters still try to eat me? Will you kill them? Big emphasis put on the word kill.

Daddy: [a little bit alarmed] “Not at first anyway. I reckon I will tell the monsters still there that any monster that don’t wanna get hurt better clear on out the back. Whoever is left after that has declared their intentions.”

Jr.: Then what will you do?

Daddy: “Well, I’ll fight the monsters and you can help if you want. We’ll push them all outside and then we’ll lock the door. And maybe afterwards we’ll commemorate our victory over the monsters with the mixing of chocolate and milk.”

Here is where I got a significant bit more worried:

Jr.: NOOOO!!!No pushing! You should grab the monsters and take a very sharp knife and cut off all of their skin. Then you should break every single one of their bones! And then we both should shoot them until they are DEAD!!! Do that!!!

Daddy: [where the hell did that come from?] “Oh my. Umm, I think harsh language is probably what I am going to try first but I will certainly keep your suggestions in mind. Is there anything else you want to talk to me about little buddy?”

Jr.: No Daddy. Tell me a story about Spiderman . . .

I am little nervous. This is normal right? I hate monsters as much if not more so than the average guy and I admit to fostering an anti-monster atmosphere at the Kjel.org HQ to a point that is probably prejudicial. Still the details regarding the violence the lad wants to visit on the monsters is troubling. Kjel.org may need to enroll the Jr. VP in some sort of monster outreach program or something. I’m sure we could all get along if only we just better understood each other. Or if those goddamned monsters could just leave us alone.

I find this story very awesome, not sure why. Probably because it involves two of my favorite things, namely, nuclear weaponry and good scotch whisky.

Nuclear bomb tests help to identify fake whisky
Radioactive material flung into the atmosphere by nuclear bomb tests is helping scientists to fight the multi-million pound trade in counterfeit antique malt whisky. Researchers at the Oxford Radiocarbon Accelerator Unit, which is funded by the National Environmental Research Council, discovered that they could pinpoint the date a whisky was made by detecting traces of radioactive particles created by nuclear bomb tests in the 1950s.

On Saturday morning me and the boy headed down to McMinnville. Our first stop was the Evergreen Aviation Museum, home of the Spruce Goose and quite a few other cool planes. Junior loved it. Daddy! Daddy! Look at all the shooters! He, unsurprisingly, liked the planes with guns the best. “Probably good your Mommy isn’t here with us.”

Along that same vein he absolutely loved the B-17: it has a lot of ’shooters’ poking out of all sides. Below is the lad peeking inside the rear hatch.

The museum has an excellent kids area. It is great because it is right in the middle of things. I could leave the lad playing on the flight simulator and still see him while I walked around a bit looking at stuff. Both of us respectively had our fun. Below is Junior ‘flying’ his helicopter.

We left the museum and headed out for “cheeseburgers on top of a skyscraper” as I had sold it him. We went to perhaps my favorite of all McMenamins, the Rooftop Bar at the Hotel Oregon.

Two cheeseburgers, two chocolate milks and one Ruby later we climbed down off the roof, fat full and happy. We then headed home and the lad slept for hours. Not a bad little Saturday.

According to this ‘doctor’, one shouldn’t own pets that can eat you. I wonder what the good doctor would think about my controversial (within Kjel.org, anyway) plan to get a guard-bear and give him the run of the property? Gotta keep those coyotes at bay after all.

It is possible that I have underestimated Spokane all these years:

SPOKANE — The Finch Arboretum is being overrun by ground squirrels, and Spokane Parks and Recreation is bringing in some special artillery. The agency is using a special machine called the Rodenator Pro to detonate some of the estimated 100 to 150 squirrels tearing up the grounds. . . The Rodenator Pro pumps propane and oxygen into the tunnels of squirrels, then sends an electric spark that causes an explosion. The shock waves kill the squirrels and collapse their tunnels — but in a humane way, the agency said.

Good to know it is a “humane” propane explosion. Wouldn’t want to see an inhumane fuel-air weapon deployed against the squirrels.

I am convinced that nothing, absolutely nothing, quite says Happy Easter! like seeing your kidnappers get shot by US Navy SEALS while you are not scratched.

MOMBASA, Kenya (AP) - An American ship captain was freed unharmed Sunday and three of the pirates who held him for days in a lifeboat off the Somali coast were killed in a operation by U.S. Navy Seals that was approved by President Barack Obama, officials said.
Capt. Richard Phillips’ crew, who said they had escaped after he offered himself as a hostage, erupted in cheers aboard their ship docked in Mombasa, Kenya. Some waved an American flag and fired a flare in celebration. The U.S. Navy’s 5th Fleet said Phillips was resting comfortably on a U.S. warship after receiving a medical exam.

I have no idea what Capt. Phillips is currently paid, but I can still say with authority that that man deserves a raise.

Also, the U.S. Navy was orginally formed to fight pirates back in the day. It’s good to see they still can perform that mission. So far it is Navy: 4, pirates:0. Now lets just hope that the other pirates are paying attention re who wins when we decide to play, and maybe make a decision not to play.

1. The CEO owes a belated thank you to the Man from the Dalles and the D-O-G-G for coming over to the HQ the other weekend and helping me to move that hide-a-bed couch. Either it was really damn heavy, or I am turning into even more of a wuss than I used to be — for about three days afterwards I felt like someone had kicked my ass. The Dogg and I tried to do it ourselves, and almost could, but we couldn’t figure out how to get it through a certain doorway. The two of us tried for about ten minutes but were stuck. After he arrived it took the engineer among the three of us 15 seconds to solve the problem. Stupid liberal arts majors.

2. I have tentatively started the process of car shopping: the CFO needs and deserves a new ride. I immediately looked at the Nissan Armada. It turns out that the Armada is way more car than we need or want which is really too bad. I was so looking forward to saying certain things when the CFO (who was going to be retitled The Admiral if we bought it) was piloting her new car. The CFO is coming to pick me up? “Behold, the Admiral approaches with her Armada!” The CFO takes a loop around SW Portland doing errands? “All hail the Armada and the Admiral for her successful circumnavigation of Garden Home!” If she wrecks it? Good Lord! The Admiral has dashed her Armada upon the rocks!” You get the idea. Anyway, the early front runners I think are slightly used versions of either this Mazda (zoom zoom!) or this Volvo (bork bork bork!). I’ve never actually driven or even ridden in either of these cars, so if you have please let me know what you thought.

3. The foulmouthedness continues for the Jr. VP. As does the obsession with Star Wars:
The other morning he was sleeping in and had to be woken up. After a few shakes he was sort of awake, but still had his eyes closed. Out of his mouth: Where the hell am I?”. His mom was not impressed. “Uhh, honey, were you having a dream, I hope?” Yeaaaaahhh. “What were you doing?” I was at Jabba’s house. He did not elaborate further.

4. The CFO has been out of town for a bit, and the boys are all alone at the HQ. I don’t have to tell you what that means. Daddy: Son number one, what do you want for dinner? Jr. Vp: Cheetos and beef jerky!!! Daddy: You’re the boss. You want a beer with that too? Discipline can be difficult to maintain when the CFO is not at the HQ.

5. On Sunday morning the Jr. VP said I want to eat cheeseburgers and go to the old park and visit Han Solo and Princess Leia and play video games! In pretty short order I figured out that Leia and Han were aka the Chiefs Educator and Bride. I am not one to deny the boy, so away we went on our big day out. Things started off well enough, with the three of us picking up neccesary supplies (like Cheetos and beef jerky) at the Thriftway. We then continued to Solo’s pad where Stinkboy got to play old school video games (he learned how to play Dig Dug) and the AK managed to break very little. As is our wont when the CFO is away, three boys then went for cheeseburgers and a vist to the park. Yet another sign that the lad has watched way too much TV: when I asked him if he wanted a hamburger or a cheeseburger, he laughed and said No! I want a Krustyburger! I had to stop the car and give him a hug at that one. The trip went downhill quickly from there.

The ‘old park’ that we went to is on the side of a hill. It might have been sunny on Sunday, but at that park it was also windy and cold as hell. I was of course wearing shorts. Eight steps from the car the little AK did a total faceplant on the sidewalk, so of course we had to deal with that first. Finally we sat down on the park bench to eat our lunch. I was seated next to the AK, helping him to eat since the concept of a “McNugget with dipping sauce” was new to him. About three minutes in the Jr VP spilled all of his chocolate milk all over himself. He of course started wailing; not because he had spilled, but because he realized that now he had no chocolate milk. A gust of cold wind then blew an unsecured napkin off of the table; it was quickly gaining airspeed and altitude. It was the only clean napkin left and I needed it to wipe off the boy so I jumped up and ran for it. At about the 10 yard mark I turned around when I heard both boys scream: two crows were on our table, fighting over my Big Mac. As I yelled and ran back to the table, the winner flew off with my lunch in his mouth. Three freezing, two crying and one swearing boy decided that maybe today wasn’t a good day to go to the park. Home we went. I am going back to that park with a shotgun in the near future. Or at least daydream about doing so.

6. Finally, and most importantly, huge congratulations to the CEO’s littlest sister on her recent engagement. The destination wedding is a good idea and sounds like it is going to AWESOME, and I can’t wait to bring the kids to Mexico. I plan to walk around Puerto Vallarta with my own little six year old interpreter. Mi padre querría otro por favor.

A few of you have asked for more detail regarding the Jr. VP’s recent operation, but sorry, even thinking about it makes me woozy. The following haiku is the best I can do:

Surgeon wields scalpel
Testicle on lad repaired
Why do my nuts ache?

Throughout history, poverty is the normal condition of man. Advances which permit this norm to be exceeded — here and there, now and then — are the work of an extremely small minority, frequently despised, often condemned, and almost always opposed by all right-thinking people. Whenever this tiny minority is kept from creating, or (as sometimes happens) is driven out of a society, the people then slip back into abject poverty.
This is known as “bad luck.”
-Heinlein

The CEO has been thinking a lot about taxes lately, both personally and at work. Not the best time to be employed by a still slightly profitable medium-sized aggressively entrepreneurial non-bailout-looking-for corporation located in California. And the United States, I suppose. It’s difficult to shake the feeling that we all have a large bullseye painted on our backs. Christ, at this rate pretty soon I am going to be re-reading and quoting Atlas Shrugged. Sorry people, I’ll stop my bitching — I know it is not interesting.

Another quote I am gonna try my damndest to live by (this is one I made up):

Quit being a morose jackass and work harder to appreciate and enjoy what you have now, ya ungrateful bastard.
-CEO

Feel free to quote me on that one wherever you think appropriate. Correct attribution is appreciated.

Another tasty treat I might try sometime.

What I am going to order next time I am at McD’s: the McGangbang

On the way home after lunch today I saw a new Dodge Charger on the road. Weird for me to say about an American car, but CEO wants. Badly. I have no need for a muscle car, it is not especially practical, and when the hell am I ever going to get to open it up? Doesn’t matter; I can sweep all those questions aside pretty easily — the CEO’s brain is powerful that way.

Maybe I buy one for the CFO? It’s either that, an F-650, or a Hummer for her next ride. Not sure which she would prefer.

You can’t really see it here, but all day Mt. Hood sat there smirking in bright sunlight, mocking those of us (or at least me) in Portland under the clouds. I’m sorry the picture shows only the clouds; I am still working with 2004 photographic technology here (ie a cheap Razr cell camera). Trust me, Mt. Hood is there if you squint a little bit. Time for a new phone soon I think.

This is the view from my office down Market toward the river for those of you who know downtown Portland. Put my head against the glass and I can actually see the Willamette. If I am standing on a chair.

The CFO is out of town this weekend on a work thing. Of course that means a lots of DVDs for the young lads. Here they are settling in to watch The Empire Strikes Back, one of the Jr. VP’s favorites. The pizza will be here soon, and I’m sure we will stage an AT-AT battle before bed. Yet another reason why the CFO should never leave.

The Jr. VP likes to show you what he is eating . . .

I may have found my next wife. Here she is.

I feel stabby every once in a while.

More pictures from the vault. So when are we buying another beerpong table for the Chief Educator?

Nice Nuggets shirt. You lose a bet or something? And I acquired that glass at the Great British Beer Festival in 1999. Somewhere in Ohio there is one just like it — you be careful with it.

Finally, one from way, way back in the day. Back when I lived by a biker bar and the city of Seattle still had a basketball team. Even if their fans rarely did laundry.

The Jr. VP and I played a game tonight where he was “The Cannon Ball Shooter” and I was “Daddy-Homer”. We recently watched a portion of a DVD containing this scene:

Yes, I was wearing goggles and shirtless. No, the CFO was not home at the time. Why do you ask?

The Mariners signed Ken Griffey Jr. to a one year contract tonight. The CEO is very conflicted. The analytical side of me hates it and is afraid it means the M’s won’t play the people they should be playing in 2009 in order to give the team a better chance of contending in 2010.

The emotional, sports-fan side of me? I come a little bit close to tearing up every time I see Griffey’s smile at the end of Edgar’s famous double in game 5 of the 1995 wildcard. Plus, I was working in Washington state politics in 1996 and I know to an absolute certainty that the late Mariner run in 1995 led by Griffey guaranteed that Safeco Field would get built and that baseball in Seattle would be saved. Suffice to say I am not too objective on this one.

Sweet Jebus I cannot wait until the baseball season starts again. The first time Junior hits an HR this year I might go a little bit apey.

The CFO got home last night after a long day at work. The boys had been home all day. The scene she arrived to:

1. “I Wanna Rock!” by Twisted Sister blaring over the stereo.

2. A one year old running around in a circle screaming, occasionally hitting a wall.

3. Daddy (on his knees) and the Jr. VP in the living room both holding blocks, trying to poke each other with the block while dodging the other guys efforts at the same.

CFO: What game are you guys playing?

CEO: Knifefight.

CFO: No. God no. This is not OK. Stop. Please, stop.

CEO: I actually thought you’d prefer this. What he really wanted to play was “Gunfight”.

Jr. VP: Mommy, watch! I am going to cut Daddy with this very sharp knife! En garde! At this point I parry a thrust from Stinkboy’s “knife.”

CFO to the CEO, mournfully: Why are you doing this? How did this get started? Did it not occur to you that this might not be a good idea?”

CEO: You know, you and I are really very different people.

The Jr VP said to me last night, and I quote, “Daddy, let’s play rock music and fight.” I gave him a little hug, told him I loved him, put on Twisted Sister, and then we started our game. Was it really so wrong?

Sorry everybody. The CEO hasn’t assed out like that in a while and I plan to make sure it is a long while until that occurs again. Big props to JPink for saving my bacon, yet again.

If anyone ever sees me enthusiastically singing karaoke please tackle me and immediately put me in a cab headed toward home — me singing is a certain sign that someone has more whiskey in them then they should.

The CEO was on the phone with his mom the other day.

CEO’s Mom: By the way, why have you quit updating Kjel.org?

CEO: Umm, what?

CEO’s Mom: You know, your website? I like reading it.

CEO: Oh God.

As of today Kjel.org is back. I’m sorry I’ve been away so long, but it has been a very tough and busy month or two. I feel like I’ve been fighting to keep up ever since that December snowstorm and then the week away from work. Added to that is the illness of certain members of Kjel.org, the CFO being very busy, layoffs at my office, trips to L.A. and the general state of the world and whatnot. I hate excuses, so please treat the above just as an explanation.

Anyway, last time I checked in here Kjel.org had just safely arrived in Bellevue for Christmas with my parents. Everything was nice, as usual, and a fun time was had by all. A certain boy had spent many a snow day watching Star Wars movies (the other day he was riding in the car with me and the Chief Educator and pointed at us and said Look, two Jabba the Hutts!) and now enjoys pretending he is characters from the movies. This gift was a huge hit:

On Christmas Day Kjel.org headed to Kihei with the CFO’s family. Here are two boys eating breakfast on the deck of our condo:

A couple of more views from our condo:

The CFO hanging ten. Shaka!

The CFO at lunch in Lahaina. Note the bottle and the margerita on the table. One often neccesitated the other.

The trip was great and we did all kinds of stuff. We ate out at some good restaraunts, drove around the island, went snorkelling and surfing and played on the beach with the lads and all in all had a fun time. We spent New Years on the beach watching fireworks. The CFO discovered that the worst hangover in the world comes from mixing rum with POG. The week went by very fast.

Aside from the Superbowl, the rest of January sort of sucked.

I finally feel like I am out of my funk and getting a bit back to normal. Remembering to play everyday with a certain couple of boys whether I feel like it or not is certainly helpful, as well as is having a bit more confidence now that I will remain employed for the foreseeable future. Someday, perhaps I can combine playing and my work:

Standard Kjel.org content (monkeys, Mariners, boys, CEO stupidity, etc) will now resume.

Kjel.org made it to Bellevue. Note to other motorists: whatever the news is telling you, if you look at the interstate and see bare pavement, take off your damn chains. Now on to Hawaii tomorrow.

Quick notes from the last week or so:

last Monday: The CEO went to work no problem. I do not count fishtailing in various parking lots and almost killing the lot of us (sans CFO) Hazzard County style at the bottom of our hill as a problem.

Tuesday: Me and the CFO both took the day off. Getting out of the HQ was treacherous but we made it. We went downtown and did Santa pics at Macy’s with the lads. Santa pics on a Tuesday morning is the best thing in the world — we were second in line when we arrived at Santaland. After the pictures were done we dropped off the smaller half of Kjel.org at ’school’, went shopping, stopped at Red Robin for drinks and burgers, shopped some more, and then finally picked up the youngsters and headed home. Barely. During that particular journey back to the HQ I put the red Suby into the guardrail at the bottom of my street. At least it was close enough so that the rest of Kjel.org could walk up to the house and I could sit in the car and swear by myself. I prefer to not speak of it further, except please know that it was only paint, and some quick work with a shovel allowed me to in fact park in my own driveway. Tuesday was a continuation of Monday’s “learning day” with the Red Suby: I’ve never actually driven it in serious snow. I know now very well exactly what it can (and definitely can’t) do in these kind of conditions.

Wednesday and Thursday: These days have blurred together. Typically I would go to work, it would start to snow, I (or more accurately the CFO) would freak out and then I’d leave the office early. One day I swung by the hardware store on the way home and bought 100 pounds of gravel which I then applied to the curve below my driveway. I think the neighbors were impressed. Maybe next year I’ll get a plow attachment for the Suby.

The CFO and the boys for the most part stayed home and played in the snow and watched videos and played games inside. The Jr. VP has been watching a lot of Star Wars and Simpsons videos lately. Yesterday he told me that he wished we had an AT-AT to drive in the snow. I told him that is was impossible for me to more completely agree, and that we would get that rebel scum yet. Kjel.org cabin fever level? Moderate.

Friday: I was unable to speak for several hours on Friday, since at 4:00 PM on that day I did the unthinkable: I went to Fred Meyer. Insanity of a high order, and I blame the elderly (as I do for most things). I came as close as I ever have to shoving a 75 year old woman into a display of canned goods. Along with the rest of us normal folk engaged in garden variety panic buying, there were dozens and dozens of old timers that seemed to be treating the Fred Meyer as a social club. Us young’uns were in a hurry to get our supplies and get the hell out. They blue hair set was not. Seriously: Gram, don’t park your cart in front of the cheese selection to chat with Ethyl and Murtice when the CEO is trying to shop and then get home. Sorry about your foot.

Saturday: It snowed. A lot. There was no way in hell we were getting out of our driveway over the weekend. Thanks to my Friday sacrifice we had plenty of people food, baby food, beer, and “projects” as the CFO calls them: one project was her and the Jr. VP making homemade ravioli. That took a good three hours or so. and other necessities, so we just hunkered down. We tried to play outside a few times but it was just too damn cold, and the snow was now layered with ice and impossible for the kids to play on without constant faceplants. That made it a little bit less fun.

Sunday: Repeat. The Jr. VP and I watched quite a few Simpsons dvd’s. One we watched (Lisa the Vegetarian) contained the following exchange:

People sitting everywhere, eating. Homer fills the grill with lighter
fluid and prepares to grill.

Lisa: Wait Dad! Good news, everyone! You don’t have to eat meat!
I’ve got enough gazpacho for everyone. [Crowd murmurs.] It’s
tomato soup, served ice cold! [Crowd laughs out loud.]
Barney: Go back to Russia!

I made the mistake of laughing at the “Go back to Russia!” line and the Jr. VP picked up on it. Later that day the CFO pointed to Jr. and said Hey, pick up your coat please! Jr. looked her in the eye and exclaimed Go back to Russia! The CFO was not amused. I am an absolutely outstanding parent.

The CFO spent the day packing and preparing for our trip north to Bellevue, and then our trip west to Maui on Christmas day. I think if we hadn’t have had those type of preparations to make the insanity levels at the HQ would have been even higher. Kjel.org cabin fever level? High.

Monday: This day shall be remembered as “The Day the CEO Saved Christmas (2008 edition)”. It snowed overnight again and was snowing when I got up. After watching the news and looking at our road the CFO and I realized that there was no possible way, even with shoveling, that we were getting out of our neighborhood without chains. I made some calls. Unsurprisingly, most places nearby were out chains. Then on a whim I called my mechanic, hoping that maybe Metro Car Care might also stock chains. The owner Kirk picked up on the first ring, and within 30 seconds we established that he has chains in stock that fit the Red Suby. I tell him that I can be there in an hour. He says that they are not really open and that he is just there with his son collecting mail and making sure the building is OK, and that they are leaving in five minutes. Where do you live? Can I deliver them to you?. Oh Kirk. You had me at “I have chains that fit your car.” Anyway, 15 minutes later I met him down at the Papa Murphy’s and got my new chains. I’m connected in this town, what can I say? Seriously, Metro is the best auto shop in town and I cannot recommend them highly enough. And they are by the Old Barn so you have somewhere to wait while your car is being worked on. I had my chains. Awesome.

The walk back up the hill returning to the HQ? Misery. I considered laying down a few times to rest thinking I could attempt the summit later in the day, but I am not sure I would have woken up from that rest. About 3/4 of the way to the top I collapsed I thought that it might be curtains for the CEO, but a friendly St Bernard showed up and licked my face a few times and woke me up. And you would never believe the tasty beverage in the cask he was carrying around his neck . . .

I may have hallucinated that last part. During the walk I am certain that I did see a dog and drink from a flask though.

I pretty much spent the entire day acquiring chains, shoveling snow (the CFO did some shoveling too), moving the Suby into the garage and then figuring out how to get the chains on. I am optimistic that we are getting out of the neighborhood tomorrow. Really the only question now is how much damage does the Suby sustain during the trip to Bellevue. I’m gonna hedge and go with minimal.

Kjel.org will do Christmas in Bellevue on Wednesday, then on Thursday fly to Maui with the CFO’s family. We’ll be back home in January, with obligations behind us and ready to party. Ask Aki about the plans for early January. Karaoke anyone? Also, a warning for certain gentlemen: I’ve begun thinking about bacon. Three times more than I usually do during on an average day during the rest of the year. There might be something special this Superbowl, stay tuned.

So, to you and yours from Kjel.org, however it may apply, please have a: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwazy Kwanzaa, Fine Festivus, and/or a Happy New Year. See you in 2009!

A guest post from the Chief Educator:

Wang and Yanks agree to $5 million, 1-year deal

NEW YORK — Pitcher Chien-Ming Wang and the New York Yankees avoided salary arbitration when they agreed Monday to a $5 million, one-year contract. The 28-year-old right-hander was 8-2 with a 4.07 ERA in 15 starts last season before injuring a foot while running the bases at Houston in mid-June. He did not return.

Well played sir

The CEO should absolutely not be at work right now. Risking my own life out on the roads today just to get to the office is bad enough. It is my life to risk after all, and in certain situations (say, punching out a shark that is trying to eat the CFO, or, like last summer when I had to fight that family of badgers that was trying to kidnap the Jr. VP. What is it with him and badgers?) I’m happy to pays my money and takes my chances if need be. Getting to the office shouldn’t be one of those situations.

What is most uncool about this morning is that not only did I nearly buy it out on the road, but I nearly took the Jr. VP and his Intern with me. After walking up and down the street below my house, I got the idea in my head that the ice was crunchy enough so that the red Suby could maintain traction. The Jr VP was in the front seat (the back door where his kid-seat was frozen shut. Perhaps I should have viewed that as a sign of some sort?) when we pulled out of the driveway. We went down the hill as slow as absolutely possible. Everything was fine until about 30 feet from Garden Home at the bottom. The Suby broke loose at this point and was going to slide across Garden Home and into the woods below, that is, unless we were hit by someone driving on Garden Home first. “Was going to” being the key phrase there: the CEO knows that if your brakes don’t work you really oughtta try the gas. The result? A Dukes of Hazzard style power-slide from 49th onto Garden Home, and the Jr. VP learning to yell “Yee-YEE-YEEHAH!”

I really should have turned around but there was no way to make it back up that piece of hill. Plus, since we were all dressed and committed to school and work I thought I should press on. School is normally a 5 minute drive. Roughly 20 today, since on hills I normally drive 50 mph down I instead kept it in 1st gear. I finally arrived at the office to learn that I was one of three people who made it in today. It’s not like I am impressing the boss or anything since my boss is in L.A. — I should have stayed home.

I’ve got a lot of stuff to write about (the aftermath from the Ale Fest, crazy kids, the CFO’s Birthday Jamberoo, Kjel.org’s response to Arctic Hellstorm 2008) but can’t seem to get it done. Maybe tonight.

Happy birthday CFO!

Above is a picture of her and me at the Oregon coast at some point in the mid-90’s — excellent times for a fledgling Kjel.org. It occasionally occurs to me that I am very, very fortunate to have found and married someone I’m both in love with and like quite a bit, and who cuts me a significant amount of slack. Significant. Love you, CFO. Thank you for everything.

As I understand it the CFO turns either 27 or 28 tomorrow. Man, time flies.

A photo of three of the ladies who shared a meal with Kjel.org on Thursday last week. I know them from somewhere . . .

I believe we were rafting in Eastern Oregon when this pic was taken. Remind me to tell you the story about the camp deer that we met on this particular trip. Have you ever tackled a deer? I can’t recommend the experience highly enough. Make sure to guard your face though. And any other portion of your body that you deem important.

The CEO’s oldest sister, several Thanksgivings ago. The 2008 holiday was not materially different.

The long weekend:

Wednesday: Ow, my balls! Me, the CFO and the Jr VP went to the doctor that afternoon. Turns out that Stinkboy is gonna need a minor operation to repair an almost-hernia. On Wednesday when the good doctor was describing (and using visual aids) to impart exactly what he was going to do to Jr’s cojones, the CEO went pale, broke out in a cold sweat and almost passed out. I briefly thought the smelling salts were going to be required. I need to stop now — I can barely even think about it enough to write about it without bringing on a fainting episode.

Thursday: Oh. Hi. The CEO’s three sisters and assorted relations were in town for Turkey Day this year. Awesome. The house was full. Then the doorbell rings: “Surprise! My parents snuck into town after saying they would be staying in California. I’m not sure why any of the kids ever believed that they would stay down there; in retrospect there is no way that the CEO’s Mom would allow the kids to gather without being there herself. Turned out to be a lovely Thanksgiving, but one with almost no leftovers — the CEO’s Dad can EAT!

Friday: Meat. Beer. On Friday me and a few sisters and one of their dates went all the way out to Gartners Meat Market on the other side of town. They were impressed. I stocked up, to the extent that Gartners gave me a giant free summer sausage as a thank you gift. Good folk, the meat people. Then we ate lunch at Rogue and drove around town drinking beer at various establishments. At least we tried to: quite a few places were closed Friday afternoon. Weird. We still got our fill though.

Saturday: Damn it, Beavs. Our guests all left and I spent most of the day getting the house back to normal. I snuck over to Chief Educators late to watch a little bit of the football game, but had to get back to help the CFO. By Saturday night she was desperately in need of a spa day. All she got was me coming home early. Sorry CFO.

Sunday: Stimulating the economy We took what has become the usual Sunday trip to the grocery store to refill the pantry and bolster the staples (ie beer and Diet Coke). Once the groceries were home and the kids taking their naps, the CFO did the unthinkable: she went to Toys R Us to Christmas shop. I got a panicky call while she was in the store, ending with “I’ve got to get out of here — this is MAKING ME CRAZY!!”. She finished her toy shopping in the relative sanity of the Target.

So Thanksgiving 2008 has come and gone. I think I am still blacking out the fact that Christmas is right around the corner. The Holiday season doesn’t really start for me until I’ve attended the Holiday Ale Fest. That means my Holiday season will start Thursday at about 3:00, and be thoroughly reinforced Saturday at 11:00.

If you can’t guess the things that the CEO are most thankful for on this Thanksgiving then you just haven’t really been paying attention.

It could have been a romantic first or second date for me and the CFO, except for one little thing . . .

Hmm. Not quite sure how to take this:

We guess http://kjel.blogsome.com is written by a man (57%), however it’s quite gender neutral.

I may need to butch this place up a little bit. More football talk maybe?

Tuesday of last week marked the 8th anniversary of the Wedding Of The Century (me and the CFO in case you were wondering) and last night we actually went out to celebrate the occasion. To me it feels like our wedding was about 4 months ago; the CFO would probably say 4 decades. Anyway, I thought it was a good time to take the little lady out on the town — she deserves it.

Through some good luck at work the CFO had come into possession of a gift certificate to Bluehour so that’s where we decided to dine. It was excellent, and I really can’t recommend it highly enough. I ordered the chef’s menu for myself, which actually worked out to be a great value: the CFO and I shared the cheese and dessert portions that came with my four course dinner, and she just ordered salad and an entrée. We had lamb and pork and excellent salads and cheese and so forth, and the service was exceedingly professional and the room was beautiful. In a town with as much good eating as Portland, I think Bluehour gets overlooked. But man I was glad we had that gift certificate. Even with our strategic ordering, dinner was not cheap. The drinks didn’t help the final number on the bill either . . .

Somebody at the Oregonian watches the Simpsons. I was perusing the classifieds the other day and saw a dozen or so ads in the “Tree Services” section. Two, however, were prominent and next to each other: One for a Mr. Tree and the other for The Tree King. +1 to my nerdliness for recognizing the joke; well played by an intern at the Oregonian I am guessing.

The CEO is coming up from underwater and will have much more for you here soon. The last week or two has been fairly insane for me, what with the CFO’s brother’s wedding, the CFO working late, the kids being sick, my work (my employer announced a new CEO today; as you might imagine there has been some tumolt in the Kjel.org CEO’s workplace lately) and everything else going on in the world (I’m looking in your direction, Chosen One aka Pres-elect Obama). Anyway, back to normal soon.

Everyone should please remember to keep Saturday Dec 6th open . I will be there when it opens at 11:00. I hope to see all of you.

Oddly enough I have also been asked to lead a “team-building trip” to the same beerfest earlier in the week, and be responsible for the mug and ticket buying for our office. Weird how those sorta things work out. I will do my best to lead the event, but if we just so happen to have any spare tickets left over after the exercise is done who knows what will happen to them . . .

At lunch talk turned (as it often does) to beer and other spiritous beverages. I learned today that apparently, if you know the right code words to use, you can buy a micro-distillery apparatus at local homebrew stores. It is marketed as either a water purifier or a hop oil extractor, but kept behind the counter — you have to know how to ask for it.

It has always been my dream to have a poker shack out in the swamp with an attached moonshine making operation (I watched way too much Dukes of Hazzard as a kid). Acquiring one of these devices would be a small but tangible step toward fulfilling a dream. Mmmmmm, white lightning. I think I know what I am doing next weekend. Now if only I could get my hands on a souped up ‘69 Dodge Charger and some dynamite tipped arrows . . .

Personally, I’d be delighted to live in a country where happily married gay couples had closets full of assault weapons.
- Glenn Reynolds

Of course I voted this year, and not just for the West Multnomah Soil and Water Conservation District Director either. I often have a tough time voting; very rarely are my personal views adequately represented anywhere. Mr. Reynolds’ quote above is pretty much a high-proof distillation of my political thinking, as if it matters or anyone cares.

Unfortunately I am afraid that we are instead about to see Mr. Churchill’s quote in action today:

Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those others that have been tried.
- Winston Churchill

I hung up the flag at the HQ this morning before I left, this being Election Day, the epitome of America and all. And to remind myself that whatever happens today the Republic will endure and the sun will still rise tomorrow. Even so I’m nervous. I’ve got a bad feeling the country is about to make a huge mistake. I hope I’m wrong on that, whoever wins, but like I said, I’m worried I’m not.

It is easy for a certain type of person to say I’m moving to [blank] if my guy doesn’t win in the run up to an election. I can’t say that. The USA is it for me; there is no where else on the planet for a person like me to go. Until I have enough money to buy an island, anyway, or successfully mount a coup somewhere.

Chief Edumacator, remind me in about eight years to anonymously mail this to a certain Beaverton lad.

In the Fall of 1994 I spent a semester studying in London. In general it was awesome. During that semester we had one week off from class, right about now, toward the end of October. The moment class was done I grabbed my backpack and hopped on a bus headed out of the capitol, bound for Munich. Beyond that, I didn’t really have any plans. I mean really: I had no idea how I was going to get to Munich, but I figured going from London to Amsterdam was a good first step. Looking back on that week, there are many, many things that occurred that I am never going to tell my mother about. Here is a list of random cool things I did that week, some of which a more responsible person (ie a non-21 year old) probably would have avoided:

1. I took a bus out of town, but got to ride a hovercraft across the English Channel. A good start I thought.

2. I arrived in Amsterdam only to find that the place I thought I was going to stay didn’t exist, nor did the people from London I thought I was going to meet. Two hippies saw me looking at a message board and asked if I needed a place to stay because they “operated a hostel on a big sailboat down by the docks and I should come check it out.” I eyeballed the two longhairs, figured I could take them both in a fight if it came to that, and then followed along. It turned out it was pretty awesome. I had my own little cabin in the boat, and there were about 10 other people from around the world staying there too. Once I unpacked the hippies said we should all go out together and then they took all of their guests out on the town. I do not remember going back to the boat, but that is where I woke up.

3. The next day I decided that the previous night was just too insane so I got a hotel room, and then looked to see if I could find my London friends. No dice on the friends: back before the internet and cell phones if you got lost or separated on the road you tended to stay that way. That night I thought I’d just relax, eat some dinner and watch a soccer game in a cool little bar I’d found and then actually get some sleep. While watching the game a local chap sat down on the stool next to me and lit up a joint. We chatted a little bit and then he offered me a hit. Not wanting to be impolite I accepted. Holy Shit! I about fell off my stool, and the story of The Time the CEO Accidentally Smoked Hashish and Then Ended Up Partying with Crazy Dutchmen All Night was born. Again, I woke up in my hotel but don’t remember getting there.

4. I decided it was time to get out of Amsterdam while I still could and to start making my way toward Munich. I screwed up a train transfer somewhere in central Germany and wound up in the former East Germany for a couple of hours. The wall had come down just a few years before and it was still very bleak. I forget the name of the town where I was stuck, but it was seriously the boondocks. The next train coming along was headed to Prague according to the schedule that I could sorta kinda read, so I decided on a little detour through the Czech Republic on my trip to Munich.

5. As I arrived in Prague it started to snow. I didn’t have the first idea where I was or where I am going to go, and hiking around the city in a snowstorm didn’t really appeal, so I hopped on a streetcar (they have a great system of streetcars in Prague) and rode it around for an hour or two. Finally it went past what looked like an inexpensive hotel so I hopped off and proceeded to get a room. The innkeeper was nice enough to give me a map and orient me to the city, and I ended up having a great day or two in Prague. The beer there? Delicious. Dunkel, bitte. (Everyone spoke German. Very few of the Czechs at that point spoke English).

6. As I was leaving the city I neglected to buy a ticket for the city subway. It would have cost me the equivalent of a nickel. Of course when we arrive at the central train station there is an official of some sort checking tickets. He says that I must come with him upstairs and he must report me to the police or something, and basically grabs my arm and starts directing me toward a stairwell. I am getting nervous. The moment we are out of public view I pull out my wallet and grab a handful of American greenbacks. Luckily they were all ones, but it looked at least a little impressive. I ask the guy if I can just “pay the fine” to him directly. He immediately took the cash and told me to get lost. I did, with pleasure. In 1994 it took $6.00 to bribe a fare-inspector in the Czech Republic.

7. Studying in Munich at that time was one Ms. Pinkdog. I stayed with her for a few nights and did touristy things in Munich, but then I had to get headed back to London. Pink accompanied, planning to spend a week in London with me. It was then that we made a near-fatal error, and it all started when Pink made the following comment: It sounds like you had fun in Amsterdam. Let’s go there for one night on our way to London! Sweet merciful jebus. I don’t want to violate Pink’s privacy any more so than I already am, but let’s just say this: she was not always the responsible buttoned down type that you may know her as today. I know it is hard to believe, but only because the CEO of all people exercised some tiny bit of responsibility in The Netherlands that we both weren’t thrown in jail. I’ll leave it at that.

8. We got on literally the last boat out of Amsterdam before a storm closed the terminal. There was way too much weather for the hovercraft, so we were stuck riding on a slow ferry. About 15 minutes into the trip I lost Pink. I searched the vessel bow to stern several times, and by the end of the trip I’d convinced myself that she’d gone overboard and was trying to determine to whom I should mention that fact. I then heard mention of the American girl in the loo that had been puking her guts out for the last hour, and I felt much better. Much, much better than Pink, who more accurately would have been called “Green” right then.

9. Going through customs I was certain we were going to attacked by the German shepherds but amazingly they let us go by. I still do not know why.

10. While Pink was in London with me she turned 21. Photographic records of that momentous event are actually still with us.

Ms. Pinkdog enjoying one of several birthday beers consumed that evening:

The birthday girl taking a timeout before we go to the next pub:

At the end of the night she could barely keep her eyes open because she was so, uh, tired. Good thing we were on a train heading home at that point.

The Pinkdog made her way back to Munich a few days later.

I of course didn’t know it at the time, but in retrospect that two week period specifically and studying abroad in general changed me a little bit. The jury is still out as to whether it was a change for the better or worse, but it certainly affected who I am today.