August 30, 2005

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  ///BARCELONA///DAY 1 + DAY 2///

  
  Tapas…

  
  …and chorizo.

  
  I don’t care how good they might be. I ain’t eating anyone’s balls.

  
  They’re raising money for matching uniforms.

  
  Look everyone, cypherningya is showing off his penis.

  
  In Spain: People dress worse than their pets.

  
  I couldn’t get enough plane food so I had it on the ground, too.

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  Barcelona’s airport has the most inefficient immigration line in the world. You get off the plane and there aren’t any signs telling you where to go. I assumed I’d need to go down escalators and I was right. Later I would hear that if you had proceeded up escalators you would get your ass sniffed by german shepherds.

  I’m not joking.

  Anyway, so you go down escalators right, and then you realize you can’t really get off because the line for immigration butts up right at the landing of the escalator. So you kinda have to grab ass your way up to the head of the line where two whole agents stamp passports. It’s like they slowly stamp the passports just to fuck with everyone on the escalators. I mean, they don’t even look at you. They just look down, holding in their snickers.

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  I know a handful of Spanish words. The words I know consist mostly of what Speedy Gonzalez yells when he runs real fast. So imagine you’re me for a second(there, I probably made your day better already). You’re at the back of a long ass line that resembles a blob of people. Your stomach hurts. The people around you are mostly Spanish and you are learning that they stink a lot worse than the French. But above all else, imagine having the world’s worst stomach ache.

  The pain is excruciating and I consider taking a fat shit in my backpack. I chew two Immodiums instead.

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  An hour and a half later and I’m at the hotel my gf and her friend have been at for a while(they left a week before me). My ass launches some Iraqi SCUD missiles and I am reminded why I hate taking shits in Europe. The water is so far away from your ass that taking a shit has a cannon ball in a tiny pool effect.

  I haven’t been in Spain for more than a few hours and I have diarrhea and a soaked ass. But here’s the worst part. I’m almost ashamed to share it. Every time the water splashes, it seems to hit me directly on the anus. Jesus, I’m shuddering just typing that. I can deal with cold hands, feet, even balls. But a cold anus just makes me crazy.

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  I finish up my bathroom duties and discover the girls cracking up because they heard every single drop of shit and toilet water. I let them laugh for a few minutes. Then I slap them till my hands turn red. They come back to their senses and we decide to go out to eat.

  As I walk out the door I’m excited but worried. Something’s wrong but I ignore it, hoping it won’t bite me back in the ass later.

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  ///BARCELONA///DAY 2///

  
  There’s this guy named Gaudi.

  
  He built this park.

  
  It has a great view.

  
  And a long wrap around bench.

  
  It’s cool, unlike you.

  
  Obligatory backlit shot.

  
  The crane is actually older than the church.

  
  They meet everyday for coffee and gossip.

  
  We eat here for lunch.

  
  They’re big on cured ham in Spain. Flies are pretty big on ham, too. I could make a clever reference to Spanish Fly, but I’m not clever.

  
  Crazy mutated shrimp.

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  As I walk around Barcelona today there is a pain from yesterday that has not subsided. Luckily, I’ve stopped shitting because I shat eight times yesterday. A bit above my daily average of three times a day.

  It’s lucky I’ve stopped shitting because I think my asshole is flipped inside out. Everytime I sit down it fucking hurts. I think I need one of those inflatable donuts. Or Preparation H. It almost feels like part of my intestine is hanging out of my ass. It really fucking hurts.

  I can’t stress that enough.

  In an effort to make myself feel better during the siesta (and to avoid telling anyone), I fill up the bathtub with hot water and crouch in it for a few minutes. Then I get called to go out for more sight seeing, shopping, and eating.

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  More Gaudi.

  
  I don’t think he likes right angles.

  
  Picasso’s place right next to a basilica.

  
  “Who’s that weird Chinese pervert taking our photo?”

  
  His shirt does not impress her.

  
  There’s a market with overpriced sandals outside the basilica.

  
  I told you it was a basilica.

  
  Ignore Dave Matthews and drink it.

  
  I mean, how can it not be clean? The fountain is outside and has a cool horse rider on top.

  
  And pigeon shit is so good for your body. It’ll flip your asshole inside out.

  
  In Spain: Pigeons are second rate citizens and ducks are worshipped. They get their own condo.

  
  That’s not his cock.

  
  A lot of humping went on in that building in 1992. It’s where Olympians stayed.

  
  I don’t know what fascination Barcelona has with balls, but it’s starting to disturb me.

  
  Told you explorers just point and say, “That way.” (For you douches that care, this is Christopher Columbus’ monument.)

  
  This sign is actually older than the doors!

  
  I almost took a shit right here.

  
  She’s tweaking her nipple.

  
  There’s a fountain show just down the hill from Parc de Montjuic and the Olympic Games sites.

  I took a shit there.

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  Note: Had to leave my camera on the charger for the third day in Barcelona. You’re not missing much because I just went shopping. Oh, and my asshole flipped back in on the third day. That made me happy.

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  • 12:42 pm
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