I have never done crack. I know a guy who was addicted to crack and went to rehab after it finally dawned on him, or…
Everything and the The Bathroom Sink
Author: Luke
Wanderer, ponderer, cycler, adventurer. I suggest you read a few more blogs if you want to learn about me.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I am, by far and away, the fastest walker in Santiago. And to take advantage of…
One of the luxuries/drawbacks of being a quazi-illegal immigrant with a UK and USA passport living in Chile is that you must collect another tourist visa every 90 days. Combine this obligatory task with a love for adventure and mayhem and you have one happy Luke. My method of travel is to arbitrarily elect a “must do in my life” goal, then make absolutely zero effort with regards to planning or preparing for that goal irrelevant of it’s very possible dangers and pitfalls, and then head off in what I believe to be the right direction. Well a few weeks ago I decided to renew the visa and complete a “must do in my life goal” of climbing a 6,000+ meter mountain (roughly 20,000 feet) in the very beautiful and challenging Bolivian mountains.
I do not consider myself an evil man. I open doors for the ladies. I will cross a busy highway to help a wheelchair up a curb. I don’t step on cracks to avoid breaking my mother’s back. In general, I love everything and everyone on this planet and do my best to contribute to our continued growth and development. But one hilarious and cruel evening, I faltered. This story is about the time I anti-poisoned Grant.
This page puts it rather well … http://www.break.com/index/ipecac-vomit-prank.html
I had a boss named Harry. My first conversation with him was about how he had lived in a dozen countries and was planning his…
Our Thursday is approaching her two year birthday! Or is it three? Not important… Since her inception she has been screaming passionately and loudly as her growing pains shape and define her. Two years ago I didn’t even know if she was a she or a he but it’s all too apparent now as she slides her silky smooth hands all over our bodies. I must thank the authors for her blossoming identity as it is their tireless efforts and unique personalities that have caressed her buxom bossom to heave ever grandeur. And to that end I would like to introduce three new “stimulators” of her, Our Thursday.
In August of 2000, I obtained my last USA passport under auspicious circumstances. I had a trip
planned to England and with only a few weeks to go I noticed that my previous passport had expired. At that time, there was no expedited passport process so we immediately did the next best thing and lied. We had my Grandfather write a very formal letter saying that his wife, my Grandmother, was doing very poorly and it was imperative that I was present at her side during her final days. It worked. There after this passport served me extremely well and saw many an airport. I even had to have 25 pages added to it to accomodate more stamps. Well in August of 2010, it expires so I thought I would give my passport Justice and try and recount some of the memories that spring to mind while gazing through some of the stamps and visas.
The hair gene in males comes from your mother’s father. This means that I am going to have
enormous eyebrows that will shade me and my family from the sun and I will have one of those heads that has the semi circle around the back from ear to ear. If I were a weaker person, I would grow one side extremely long and try to hide the top of my abnormally shiny head and then say “What?” when people asked me about it. However, there are alternatives.
About 26 miles off the coast of Southern California, you can feel as if you are a thousand miles away from the United States, and you do not need a passport. (In fact, this island is still part of Los Angeles County and has a 323 area code or is it 213?). As I write this, there is a large horde of young men that have descended upon this magical mystery tour of an island for an annual trip we affectionately call, Catalina.
Rome is a remarkable city and if you want to blow your mind to the maximum, go to Cinque Terra on the mediterranean coast. Below is an excerpt from a journal I kept during a a two month trip through Europe.
August 12th 12 something. Sitting in the hallway of a train surrounded by greasy Italians and listening to godspeed and my feet undoubtedly have some sort of fungus or worm or something. I have never seen them dirtier.