The Net Dog Blog

For some reason I can't explain, I've always been a crazy magnet. That is to say crazy people always seem to be attracted to me. Take Friday night for instance. Blake and I met one of his rugby mates for a drink at Compton’s. We actually met some guys from Louisville. Apparently they live right around the corner from our house in Louisville. Small world, huh. Anyway, we were standing in a circle, the way our people seem to do when talking in groups, when all of a sudden this nut in a suit walks up to me with his hand out. "I'm Ryan," he slurs. I give him my name in return hoping that will be the end of it. He proceeds to tell me that he's a lawyer somewhere up north. "That's nice," I tell him. I take out my cigarettes and he asks me for one. I oblige, thinking that he probably only wanted a smoke. Then, he pokes Blake in the stomach like he's the Pillsbury Dough Boy and asks "Who's this?" Blake introduces himself. "Help me get rid of him," I mouth to Blake, who doesn't seem to be able to read lips. Annoyed, I walk over and ask one of the rugby mate's girl friends for a light. She doesn't have one so she turns and notices the suited lawyer and taps him and ask him to light my cigarette. Just great. I was trying to get rid of him. I accept the light and walk back to the Louisville boys. Luckily, by this time, he gets the hint and totters off.
Not 10 minutes later, some gin soaked hobo staggers up to me and shouts something undecipherable at me. I think it had something to do with him being short of money since he was pointing at a few coins he was holding in his outstretched hand. "Well, I'm short about a million pounds," says one of the girl friends. She then tells him to move along.
We then decide to move to a new bar. I think it was the Duke of Wellington. Most pubs close around midnight (clubs will stay open later). This one closed at 11. While we waited for our friends to exit, Blake and I sat on the sidewalk outside the pub. Suddenly, I find a hand on my shoulder that doesn't belong to Blake. "It's a long, long way to Tipperary," the drunk sings into my ear. "Yes," I reply. "I've heard that it is." I smile, thinking he will go away. Instead, he tried to high five me. Of course, since he's crouching over me, he misses my hand and smacks my face. Still singing, he stumbles off into the night.
At this point I believe my crazy quotient has been filled for the week so I decide that it's time to go home. Blake agrees. Of course, now I can't get "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" out of my head.

I finally decided to really break our new kitchen in and cook an actual meal. Since I've been here we've either ordered in (and trust me when I tell you that it's really handy to have pretty much any kind of food imaginable delivered right to your door) or we've eaten heat and eats from Sainsbury's (which are actually pretty good as well).
Anyway, last night I made Chicken and Mushroom Etoufee. It was a recipe I got from the cooking class Blake and I took in New Orleans last September. One of Blake's rugby teammates was supposed to join us but he got stuck at some work function or something so it ended up being just the two of us.
I was actually surprised to find all the ingredients I needed at Sainsbury's (we brought Cajun seasoning from home just in case). I'm still trying to figure out where everything is there. Plus they don't call zucchini zucchini ... they call them courgettes which really throws me off. And apparently you can't buy sticks of butter like you can at home. You buy them in bricks (although they probably don't call them bricks). So I had to do some ciphering to figure out that a half a brick of butter is about a stick of butter. Whew! Does my head hurt!
Anyway, it was nice to have a familiar home cooked meal. Next week I'm going to try to make Swiss Steak and Mashed Potatoes from a couple of my favorite recipes. If it doesn't work out, we could always order in Indian again.

Saturday night I joined Blake and some of his rugby teammates for a "pub crawl" to raise money to pay for the team's trip to New York next year to participate in the Bingham Cup (a gay rugby tournament honoring Mark Bingham).
I was a bit nervous at first, as I usually am around new people, but (surprise, surprise) the more I drank the friendlier I became. I won't go into how much I actually drank or exactly how sick I was once we got back home. I'll just say that once again I've sworn off alcohol.
I'm just glad I managed to keep my clothes on...

I received this today from my friend Mark in New Orleans. You know I don't like those stupid friendship chain letter emails that instruct you to "forward this to 10 friends or you will never find true happiness" or some crap like that, but this one always makes me smile. So instead of forwarding it to you, I figured I'd stick it on my blog and hope that you read it. Anyone who knows me will know that these words could have come straight from my mouth. :)

Are you tired of all those sissy "friendship" poems that always-sound good, but never actually come close to reality? Well, here is a series of promises that really speaks to true friendship:
1. When you are sad - I will help get you drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
2. When you are blue - I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile - I will know you finally got laid.
4. When you are scared - I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5. When you are worried - I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be and to quit whining.
6. When you are confused - I will use little words.
7. When you are sick - Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.
8. When you fall - I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.
This is my oath...I pledge it till the end. Why, you may ask? Because you are my friend.
Send this to 10 of your closest friends, then get depressed because you can only think of two and one of them isn't speaking to you right now anyway.
Remember: A good friend will help you move. A really good friend will help you move a body. Let me know if I ever need to bring a shovel.

Anyone who knows me very well knows that I usually take one evening a week to do my laundry. It guarantees me one evening to just sit around and catch up on my television. Now that I'm in London, all that has changed. For one, there's not enough on the television to justify spending a whole evening catching up on my favorite shows. Secondly, there is no way that I could do all of our combined laundry in one evening.
I've mentioned the washer/dryer combination machine before but I'm not sure if I've told you how long it takes to do a load of laundry. From start to finish, it takes about 4 hours! And that's with the clothes not being completely dried. At any given time you will find garments hanging about the flat drying. Sometimes I think it would be quicker for me to beat the clothes with a rock in the river to clean them.
I had thought about maybe taking all the laundry to a coin laundromat (or launderette as I think they call it here) but it's too far to walk with all the laundry. We do take our dress shirts to a dry cleaner to have them washed, starched, and folded for us. This is done mainly because it's easier for Blake to pack them for his business trips and because they can be stacked at the top of the closet instead of hanging them and taking up valuable closet space.
Hopefully I can get caught up enough on the laundry to actually go out and explore London this week while Blake is away. Oh and while I'm out I need to pick up some laundry detergent and fabric softener.

Lord, Kids! Paris wore me out! My dogs are barking! It seems like we walked every square inch of central Paris. The Louvre alone just about killed me. Next time I'm going to check into one of those nice wheelchair tours. All kidding aside, Paris is a beautiful city. I'm so glad I had the opportunity to see it.
After I arrived and checked into the hotel Friday evening, we walked to Notre Dame then had dinner at a little sidewalk cafe. I really need to get used to the European way of eating dinner so late. In London, people typically don't eat dinner until at least 8, whereas in Paris it's not uncommon to eat dinner at 10 or 11 at night! Needless to say, this boy was hongry! We also found out that the bars are typically busy before dinner. After dinner, after midnight or later, you basically have to know what party to go to. We were really hoping to get a taste of the Paris party scene so we were a little disappointed. Oh well. It was still fun.
Anyway, after dinner we took the Metro to the Eiffel Tower. We got there a little too late to take the elevator all the way tot he top but the second level was high enough for us, thank you. What an amazing view! Unfortunately, it was dark so many of the photos I took turned out. Next time I'll get there during the day.
Saturday we overslept a bit so we really have breakfast. I was hoping to try some French pastry. Maybe next time. Instead we grabbed a sandwich at the Louvre. People will tell you that the Louvre is huge but you have no idea until you walk it. We maybe covered half of it and I was about to collapse. Luckily we got to see the "high points"... Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, and the Mona Lisa.
You know I hate to be stereotype people (hehe) but I have one question... whatever can Asian people do with all the pictures they take? Good grief. If they aren't taking a picture, they're getting ready to take one. It seemed like I was always in their way. Maybe with all the photos I inadvertently found myself in I'll end up a celebrity in Japan! I could be the next Mr. Sparkle!
We met a couple of Blake's colleagues Saturday night. We started out having drinks (Strawberry Mojitos! Yummy!!!) at a bar then we moved to the Restaurant Georges at the top of the Centre National d'Art et de Culture Georges Pompidou. For you Sex and the City fans, this is the same restaurant where Carrie met the Russian's wife in the series finale. The view was breathtaking! You could see practically the entire city from our table. And don't get me started on the food and wine. I'll just say everything was delicious and leave it at that. We were probably seated at our table at 11 PM and left around 1:30 AM. By that time it was too late to do much of anything else (the bars close at 2 AM) so we went back to our room.
On Sunday, we decided to catch an early train and head back home to London. We found out that we had been invited to attend a function (black tie, we think) at the US Embassy to celebrate the Fourth of July so we figured we could catch the sights we missed on our next visit.

Whew! I figured I would be bored not working but there has been enough to do this week to keep me pretty busy. Laundry alone takes up a big chunk of time. Mainly because the washer/dryer is one unit. It washes the clothes then it sorta dries them. I say "sorta" because it seems to steam the clothes dry so they don't really get completely dry. But there's cleaning the flat (I clean it during the day and Blake trashes it at night. We have a routine. It's the circle of life.), going to the gym, going to the grocery, picking up stuff at the dry cleaners. I feel like a 50's housewife!
Blake is in Paris today. He had to get up at liek 4 AM this morning to catch the Eurostar. That's the train that takes you from London to Paris via the Chunnel. I'm going to meet him there tomorrow to spend the weekend. Our first mini-break as Londoners. I've never been to Paris so I'm pretty excited. We are staying at the Hotel La Tour Notre Dame. It's supposed to be in the "gay" area. Should be interesting.
Anyway, I'm not sure if I'm going to take my laptop with me since it's so cumbersome so there may not be an update until we return. Eitheer way, I'm sure I'll tell you all about our vacation!
Au Revoir!

Boy was I wrong about the gym here! I was expecting a bunch of pasty, flabby, hobbits. Instead, what I found was tan, tattooed, good looking, muscle guys. It seems that gay men are the same everywhere after all. Unfortunately, I seemed to be the only pasty, flabby guy there. I told Blake that I thought he only wanted take me there to humiliate me! HA!
Darren will love this part. There was this one guy who looked like a younger, better looking version of Ray Dragon! Actually after looking at that picture I can say that the guy at the gym was much better looking and in even better shape! He was definitely COLT material... and he wasn't even the best looking guy there!
This place has a modern and industrial feel. The staff at the front desk were energetic, helpful, and friendly. There was even a guy (probably a model) handing out shots of some sort of hydrating beverage throughout the gym. This was definitely NOT the Louisville YMCA! The one funny thing that happened was that Blake locked the key to the padlock on his locker inside the locker. One of the musclely girls (a real girl with boobs and everything) at the front desk grabbed her trusty bolt cutters and headed on down to the men's locker room and cut off the lock. The men in the room, in various stages of undress, seemed to be fairly untroubled by the whole ordeal.
Despite feeling quite inadequate around all these gym bunnies, Blake and I managed to have a pretty good workout. He pushed me pretty hard. It will definitely take some getting used to doing 4 sets of 12 reps instead of 3 sets of 10. I woke up in the middle of the night a little stiff and sore (from the workout, you perverts! Get your minds out of the collective gutter!) but now that I've had a nice hot shower this morning I'm feeling better.
Maybe with Blake's help and encouragement and all the stimulation... er, I mean inspiration at the gym I'll be in shape in no time!

For those of you keeping up with my travel drama, I just want to say that we picked up the cats last night and they are fine. My luggage was delivered to a neighbor upstairs who seemed very nice (I think his name is Frasier). So all is well today in jolly old England.
Today I decided to go out an explore a little, so I hopped on my bicycle and headed in the direction of the closest Sainbury's to buy some basic sundries. About half-way there I realized that Blake had taken the lock off my bike yesterday when we were testing keys so I headed back home. Somehow I got completely turned around. After peddling aimlessly for about 10 minutes I finally found our street. Once I recovered my lock, I continued my journey this time without incident. The grocery here is, like our flat, tiny but they had most of what I was looking for (poor Blake is going to have to do without coffee beans for now). My backpack filled to capacity, I trekked home. If I do this every day or so I should be able to lose a little weight!
Speaking of which, Blake is taking me this evening to join our neighborhood gym. My only hope is that the local boys are as pasty and out of shape as I am!
I'm sure I'll have all sorts of interesting things to tell you about this next adventure!

Saturday when I arrived at the Louisville airport to begin my new life in London, I decided that from now on I'm going to try to have a better outlook on things. After spending the afternoon with my mother I realized I saw a lot of her in me ... and I didn't like it! Anyway, I decided that no matter what I was going to arrive in London fresh and happy and excited to see my man and start our new life together. The airline gods, however, had different plans.
First, the flight from Louisville to Detroit was delayed two hours because of a mechanical problem with the plane. Something to do with pressure or something. Now I wasn't going to let this upset me because honestly I'm usually relieved when mechanical problems on airplanes are fixed before I fly on them. Call me crazy, but that's how I feel. But I was a little concerned because my two cats were in Detroit waiting to fly with me. (Long story short, they had to fly up earlier in the day so the customs people could examine them or something.)
When we finally boarded the plane and took off, the fine people at Northwest assured me that I would be able to make my connection flight. I actually got off the plane (deboarded? unboarded?) at 9:30 a good 10 minutes before my 9:40 flight was supposed to take off, however, I was told that because they couldn't get my luggage to that plane in time (and TSA regulations require one to travel with one's luggage - remember this!) I wouldn't be able to make my scheduled flight. My cats were on the flight and would be waiting for me at Gatwick airport, however, I was going to be re-routed through Amsterdam and then to London. Before I could try to find a better way to get there, the ever so friendly and competent people at Northwest shoved a new ticket in my hand and instructed me to run approximately the length of a football field because my new flight was boarding at that exact moment.
Luckily I made that flight and, after stowing all my personal items in the overhead compartment and/or under the seat in from of me, I decided to look at my new itinerary. Oh joy! I had a six and a half hour layover in Amsterdam!
You might be saying, "Hey! Amsterdam sounds cool!" and if I was there I would slap you for saying that. While I'm sure Amsterdam has its charms, the airport should be listed as one of the nine circles of Hell. I couldn't find anyone who could help me. As it turns out my flight to London would be on a different airline, so Northwest claimed they couldn't assist me and British Airlines personnel were nowhere to be seen.
One hour before my flight, I finally found somebody to talk to. She seemed amazed that I didn't have a boarding pass. I told her that I had been there for five-and-a-half hours already and she was the first people at British Airways to speak to me. Anyway, she asked me if I had any luggage checked and I said that I indeed had two pieces of checked luggage. She seemed a little confused by the Northwest luggage receipts in my possession so she called down to check if my luggage was going to be loaded on the plane. She informed me that they didn't have my luggage and she wouldn't allow me to board the plane without it. I told her my sob story and I guess she took pity on me because an hour later I was on the plane headed for London.
Upon arrival, I immediately went to the baggage department and got somebody to write up a report after, of course, they verified that they had no idea where my luggage was. So basically Northwest wouldn't let me board my original plane because I couldn't travel without my luggage and then they lost my luggage. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?
Oh! And just when you think it couldn't get worse, it does! After the luggage debacle, I find Blake and he tells me that the minimum wage genius cargo worker in Louisville didn't send the original paperwork for Jake so London customs wasn't going to release them.
At this point in our little drama, my luggage is supposed to be on its way from Amsterdam and Blake should be able to pick up the cats after customs verifies things with our vet in Louisville.
Keep your fingers crossed, kids! This may not be over yet!