Checked my three email addresses five times so far today. Other than cheap penis enargements nothing too interesting. Coutning days has gotten old already, I just want to get going. I know I'll miss sitting around watching kung fu movies but watching them dubbed in spanish has got to be pretty funny aswell. I'm still living life like I would if I wasn't going away for a year. Spent about half an hour looking at the final year research projects and picking the ones I would ask for.It's gotta be either:
- Application of Lattice Boltzmann Method (LBM) to Study the Microfluidic Characteristics of the Air Flow in Alveolar Dusts of Human Lung
or
- A Fundamental Study on Combustion Characteristics of Biomass Fuels in an O2/CO2 Environment
Not a chance of me doing anything remotely intellectual for quite a while. At least until June. Work starts in sunny Barcelona. Should be interesting enough. They'll probably have me capping paint tins or tasting samples or something.
I've got nothing to say really, but I'm shit bored and forcing myself to write something. Just to get in the swing for life on the road. I guess the next time I do this will probably be in an Internet cafe somewhere on the other side of the globe. I guess I can tell the plan for the next few months as it stands at the moment. So I get of the plane in London. Walk to the bagagge carousel. Pick up my bag. Hang on this is getting a bit Lod-like. I'll save the details for the first fat chick I meet at the pub. So, London=Party. Then north to some relos up near Manchester. Further north to Glasgow where hopefully I going to do a hike called the West Highland Way which will take about a week or so. Don't know what else after that. Loch ness monster hunting possibly. So then a plane will be involved, presumably, to facilitate transport to Prague. This is where all those taunts I copped at school fit in. The "european" accent which ranged from count dracula to a French patisserie chef will be out in force. Water will be getting heated left and right. So yeah, more relos. Hopefully with food. Judging by what my Grandma was like, with the food stuffing down throat reflux, I should get a feed or two.
Then it's back to rice and honey on my way through Slovakia. Not sure what to expect there. Probably people and stuff. Then the fun will begin, hopefully.... Visas are possibly the shittest thing going. Why is it that Americans and Japanese people don't need a visa to get into Russia and the Ukraine. I've got this theory that it's got to do with wartime supremacy. See, the Russians are scared that if they don't let the old holidaymakers from miami into the red square then there will be a iminent scud missile attack on Vladivastock. And Japan, well they know to take one on the chin. What about us. We have Gallipoli, come on. The coalition of the willing!! Thas has to stand for something. But no, no, no. Poor little Peter trying to visit his relatives, I use the term lightly. Poor little Peter the peasant, just trying to get by, trying to make a living, eating dry crusts of turd cause he can't afford food. Poor little Peasantry Pete the peasant. Dirty russians.... Sorry Irina. As a back up plan I'm taking some marine grease. That blue sticky shit. I read on the net somewhere that the border officials take well to palm greasing. Yeah I reckon they would. The bloody embassy enjoys lining their pockets. The visa application usually takes two weeks to process. At a cost of $85. However for russian mafia types it can be done in a day. Fancy that a single day. And for only $400, gee thats cheap. Unforntunately for poor little peasantry pete the peasant $315 is eactly the amount I intend on spending on rice. Dirty Russians....
So after a week long vodka bender in Moskow I'm going to hed to Spain to smuggle immigrants accross from morrocco. Who ever said Chemical engineering wasn't glamorous. Hopefully I can save enough money doing that to get out while I'm still young. Either that or pray for some form of child overboard incident. Yeah that should put a stop to it for long enough to get out and to my real job. Err gross, a real job. If I have to make popcorn at this job, I'm telling you now, I will go and drown myself in Mediterranian. It should be OK. Yeah working in Barcelona in the summer can't be all bad. So for all of you out there who care, I'll be working for a company called Hempel. Unforetunately, however they don't import hashish from the middle east and make clothes in the morning then smoke up and siesta all arvo. No, no, believe it or not they make paint. Yes Paint! I'm going to be a paintsmith. The job should be fun but the initiation I've heard is also fun. Similar to those equator crossing pleasure cruises in the Navy. Or so I've heard.
Eight months later after untold nights of scantily clad finger painting I will prepare to run away from my defacto spanish wife just as she comes to the emotional low point of her pregnancy. Where to you ask with bated breath. Africa my son, Africa. Here the glories of ritual sacrifice and wild animals mating will come alive. Current Kenyan deportation law luckily only includes big game animals. So I shall enjoy many an evening of small prey sodomy with David Attenborough playing in the background. Thus will conlude my small tour of the globe.
With my eyes shaving the sloth's of Madagascar as I fly out of Joh burg my mind will race. Thinking of oppourtunities had and oppourtunities squandered. I can start planning new trips to investigate the wildlife in lands afar. But there is plenty to see in that department right here at home. Have you ever seen a pack of kangaroos on heat. Oh my. Glorious....
