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read it all.
"I get immediate experience with the toilet: after the tension of the flights (not to mention the overeating—British Airlines shtups us with food every hour or so), I throw my guts up. I follow this with a couple of IMODIUM® tablets and a VALIUM® (my angel is already asleep and doesn't need any drugs), and we both sleep like babies until 2:00PM."
ALSO, LOL. Why does he only have one friend? God, I was hoping he'd somehow managed to die between starting this website in like, 1992 and now. Disappointing.
what a twunt.
"Excuse me sir, could you please tell me if this linoleum floor is new?"
he is the most smug, condescending, conceited, arrogant character ever, who's also a massive racist obsessed with his own bodily functions.
"You know, a Polynesian-style exotic drink! What does a man have to do to get a Polynesian-style exotic drink in a Chinese restaurant in Israel?! I am not amused!"
"Showing off my graduate-level knowledge of electric power engineering, I tell people about these "detuning" balls that prevent wind-induced "galloping" and the subsequent phase-to-phase faults."
Absolute worst person to be stuck in a tour group with ever? I THINK SO.
"A robed Arab who looks black as the ace of spades clutches a handful of U.S. dollars and solicits tourists to mount his wretched camel for a quick photo (NIS 5, please). Cheryl thinks the Arabs are undressing her with their eyes, and they probably are."
I gave up after they clear Israeli airpot security.
The guy clearly thinks he is HILARIOUS, but he just comes across as a dick.
Also, how is 'toilet' rude in the US? That is weird.
On the Mount of Olives itself, I have a run-in with a disturbed Arab. No, I don’t want to ride his camel, I tell him, but I am happy to pet the nice, placid donkey atop which he is mounted. The camel is filthy and ill-mannered and is making disturbing noises in its throat, while the donkey is clean, soft, and quiet. After I gently stroke the donkey’s head, the Arab tells me, "You crazy fuck, you are sick and you make me sick," and rides off. (Interestingly, Cheryl had no trouble dealing with his associate, scoring a lovely poster depicting a panoramic vista of the Old City for the rock-bottom price of NIS 4.)
thanks so much for this :')
I read it all last night after googling "worst website in the world"
that he mentions the word 'sweetheart' twice; once in reference to his wife, and again to a terrfying-looking rottweiler.
What a horrible man.
might try it again later. what a horrid cunt.
Some of the best quotes from my reading it last night:
"Our taxi driver (apparently yet another fucking Sierra Leonean) does a steady 86 mph down the George Washington Parkway."
"The crowds at Heathrow are from all over the world. There are quite a number of Sikhs."
"Cheryl bought me this zipper/snap/Velcro® passport belt thing that holds my passport and is worn around my waist under my shirt. It also holds a front door key and a couple of hundred dollars. The stewardesses must think I’m weird when they ask for my passport and I start disrobing. Plus, if I touch it the wrong way, I accidentally tickle my belly and I giggle."
"Desperate-looking, prefabricated tract housing projects in white stone jut upward unexpectedly like erect penises. Speaking of penises, what are these "penis trees" all over the place? I learn later that they are cypress (brosh)."
"Back on the streets, I people-watch carefully. The Jerusalemites are interesting. I haven’t seen any blacks or Hispanics yet."
"I suspect that Eytan is beginning to get a bit pissed off at me when, after he identifies a given scroll as the "recently discovered" 151st Psalm, I point out that the Apocryphal 151st Psalm has been part of the Catholic canon for many centuries."
"While we are waiting in traffic (for what I estimate is close to an hour) to cross the border, a truck loaded with Holstein-Friesian cattle pulls up next to us. They are the dirtiest, mangiest, most emaciated cattle I have ever seen in my life, and I enjoy an unadulterated view of the filthy anus of one of them."
"I confess to Eytan that I find the incessant hawking of the Arabs annoying. Indeed, any time we get off a bus, Arabs appear out of the woodwork to sell junk—rosaries and crucifixes at Christian sites, postcards at all sites. Eytan agrees that the Arabs are vultures and tells me that, if I find them annoying in Israel, I had better stay out of Egypt, where they are ten times worse. He doesn’t mention that there is another reason to stay out of Egypt, a reason of which I’m sure our bar mitzvah boy buddy, Neil, is ignorant, since he toured Egypt before coming to Israel:
Jer. 42:19 The LORD hath said concerning you, O ye remnant of Judah; Go ye not into Egypt: know certainly that I have admonished you this day."
"Back at the hotel, Cheryl notices that the maids failed to pass the "hair test." You see, when Cheryl finishes washing her hair, she rolls the shed hairs into a ball and plasters it to the wall of the shower. Discovering that the ball was still plastered to the shower—even though the room was made up—indicated that the maid was, well, less than thorough."
And the highest of the highlights...
"We were both up half the night tossing and turning. The tension is mounting: this place is alien and uncomfortable and there is no privacy. I literally can’t even wipe my anus in the manner to which I am accustomed."
"Airport security was astonishingly easy on us again. Perhaps it’s because I reported an Arab whose handshake with his buddy seemed to be accompanied by the surreptitious transfer of a small item and its immediate burial within a back pants pocket. When I qualified my report to the airport authorities, indicating that I might be wrong and I didn’t want to cause trouble, they said, "No, it’s O.K., what you have done is very important." (The Arab did not make his flight, though his parents did.)"
"At JFK, I immediately feel uncomfortable amid all the blacks and Hispanics even though I was born and raised in New York. Not once did I feel this way in Israel—even when venturing into new towns for the first time. That’s certainly food for thought."
I suggest reading thanksg and amy. Possibly because they're the only two ones I managed to read before I got so angry I turned my computer off. THAT'S PURE RAGE.
"Now that my family has sat in this stuffy auditorium for hours, it's time to schlep to the business school convocation so that some immigrant can mispronounce my name. My family shouldn't mind: it's only 95 degrees and 100% humidity in New Orleans!"
I bet his was a fun family to be sitting near during the ceremony.
Elian Gonzalez is a "junior greaseball", immigrants are "human garbage", and none of this should be a surprise condsidering the Spanish Inquisition.
"Snuggle bear sells network storage solutions for Procom Technology in Santa Ana, California. I am the president of Network Security Laboratories, Inc., in Bethesda, Maryland.
Snuggle bear takes good care of me too. She makes certain I do not eat too much dairy food, since I have a lactose intolerance and it makes me burp. I make certain that she does not sneak too many chocolate peanut butter Funny Doodles while I'm not looking.
I bought Cheryl a shiny pebble in a refulgent platinum mounting. It is a gorgeous 1.81 carat round brilliant cut diamond, G color, VS1 clarity, with 63% depth and 62% table (a cut worthy of Lazare Kaplan), good polish, good symmetry, and no fluorescence."
Love makes poets of us all.
Haa, he describes his perspective as "whimsical".
I understand you are American, yes? Is the word 'toilet' considered rude in your homeland? What's that about?
But I wouldn't say it's considered rude for the most part. A toilet is a toilet and that's what you call it. Though by that, I mean the actual apparatus itself, not the room. Americans don't refer to the bathroom/restroom/whatever as "the toilet".
the man is just mainly a nutbar.
Thanks for the clarification! :]
"the loser in front of us is discovered to have a metal cigarette lighter"
Max, 19, hits the roadMeet Max Gogarty - 19, from north London, spends his money on food, booze and skinny jeans, writes for Skins in his spare time. He's off to India and Thailand to have a good time, and you can join him in his weekly blog
Hello. I'm Max Gogarty. I'm 19 and live on top of a hill in north London.
At the minute, I'm working in a restaurant with a bunch of lovely, funny people; writing a play; writing bits for Skins; spending any sort of money I earn on food and skinny jeans, and drinking my way to a financially blighted two-month trip to India and Thailand. Clichéd I know, but clichés are there for a reason.
I'm kinda shitting myself about travelling. Well not so much the travelling part. It's India that scares me. The heat, the roads, the snakes, Australian travellers. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited. But shitting myself. And I just know that when I step off that plane and into the maelstrom of Mumbai - well, actually, I don't know how I'll react.
I'm doing India on my own. I've options to meet up with people there, but for the most part, it'll be me and my backpack. I fly into Mumbai today, but will move down to Goa pretty sharpish and chill there for a few days - a nice, slow introduction hopefully laced with lots of swimming, sunbathing and partying. And then South India's pretty much my oyster - Kerala, Madurai, Bangalore, Cochin, Mysore ... Wherever. I'm free to roam. That's the beauty of doing it by myself.
Practically all of my friends are dotted around the globe scouring every nook and cranny for a bit of culture and enlightenment (but secretly hoping to run into as many full-moon parties as possible). But it seems all gappers I know - wherever they are - will be going to Thailand in March or April, and every one I've spoken to is making no secret of the fact that Thailand should be pretty damn decadent.
I'm not entirely sure what appeals to me about travelling. Maybe the lack of work or study? The mayhem? The imagined company of beautiful girls ... all very good reasons to travel. And whether I'm right or not, I'm pretty sure it'll be a world away from cowering under an umbrella at the 134 bus stop.
Anyway, you could come with me every step of the way - well, not every step. Just a few minutes once a week, via this blog. Even so, I'll do my best to tell of the debauched beach parties, the dodgy days with "washing machine" tummy, the messy late-night stumblings into bars and, of course, all that bullshit about finding myself.
I have already experienced my first taste of India - and I only had to go as far as Aldwych. The Indian High Commission is a funny place. At first sight, it would be easy to get disorientated and think that you'd been transported to the queue for Space Mountain at Disneyworld. But in fact, you're 10 minutes from a Ben Elton Musical and just want a visa. Eight in the morning and the queue was already tailgating round the block. And that was just the queue to get a ticket to come back later. I finally got my
visa at four in the afternoon - tired, dazed and convinced that one or two very simple but effective changes - such as computerised ticket dispensers - would've made the whole thing much more bearable.
Anyway, I've had to get malaria tablets, purchase travellers' cheques, sort out travel insurance, try and find a universal bloomin' plug, buy a backpack, get iodine drops (whatever they are) and enjoy dozens of injections off a nurse who was grumpy and trying to get me to pay a hundred quid to minimise the after-effects of being bitten by a monkey. I still fancied her though. She was a nurse.
and said everyone was being massively mean.
I also think the guy who went to Israel is even worse than Max. Max seems like I could cope with being around him for a bit, write off his naivete and youthful exuberance because of his age and his innocence. This guy though has no such excuse.
the japan one makes me angry, he dosn't deserve to visit japan.
We are dying of thirst, but we don’t have a half-pound coin for the soda machine, so we open her backpack and pick through the few remaining Juicy Juice® containers and top them off with a Fig Newton® or two.
half pound coin :D
Also, more product placement than the last Bond movie.
TOP QUALITY ADVERTISING THERE.
also; i want to bring half pound coin into popular usage, lets do it DiS. we can make this happen.
as a double-pound.
we can't get too technical about this 'fifth of a pound' sounds a bit rubbish.
'These "water-resistant" bags from L. L. Bean are not as water-resistant as is claimed. They only sat in the rain for a few minutes, but some objects inside are wet. Partial loss: the suede and cork soles of my favorite thong sandals are wet, but they will dry out'