God ‘Dam.


6:50 P.M.


The flight was pretty good. Five hours and 45 minutes. There were snacks, free wine, 30 Rock on TV, dinner, and little turbulence. Virtually pain-free. Especially on account of the pills Wendy gave me. We got to Amsterdam at about seven o’clock in the morning. It was still pitch black out. We rode the tram from the airport to Amsterdam Centraal. I felt like I was stepping off the tram and onto a movie set. Cassidy came to be known as “Mapquest,” so she found our hostel using her above-average sense of direction. Our hostel. The White Tulip. It was literally right in the middle of the Red Light District. Sex shops, rainbow flags, “coffee shops” – I was in my element. We walked around a bit while we waited for the other travelers to get checked out of our room. Started to get our bearings straight. Er. Gaily forward. Then we finally got to sleep. Jet-lag fucking sucks.

Got up. Went to the Sex Museum. Fascinating shit. Took lots of photos to and from, and in between. It started to rain a little more than the comfort-level allowed so I said, “Wanna get stoned?” My prudish friends responded with a surprising “Yes,” and stoned we got. Although we didn’t get the best weed on account of them being pussies.

Went to the pub near our hostel. Got a free Heineken during Happy Hour. Ahh, beer. Who needs food? All I had eaten was a bacon sandwich – literally bacon and bread.

We…well…I…wanted to be out and about on our first night in Europe, so I drug my friends to this drum & bass club. Had a few drinks. Attempted to dance, but found it to be difficult because there were like 12 beats going at once in the same song. Cool people though. Cool style. It was quite refreshing. Especially because I had been around the Campground Twins everyday. There’s only so much fleece zip-up/swishy-pants a girl can take. Smoked some more weed. Got fucked up. Slept in my clothes.

DAY 2.

My birthday! Obama’s inauguration, too. The night before, well, in the wee hours of the morning, there was an English girl, Toni, in our hostel that kept going on and on about Obama. I was in bed – fucked up – but my mind was awake. I quietly listened while she sucked America’s dick, while the “actor from New York” that was also staying in our room slurred “exactly…” in response to everything she said. I couldn’t see Toni – only hear her. I tried to imagine what she looked like. Then I imagined crawling into her bed and fucking her ’til she shouted “Oh my God!” in that sexy accent. I got a glimpse of her the next morning. She looked alright, but then again, she was sleeping. She had maroon-colored hair.

Went to the pub for breakfast. Another bacon sandwich. Ran into Toni and introduced myself. She looked better sleeping.

I walked all around the city with Cassidy. Nicole had a migraine and was stuck in bed all day. On my birthday. What a dick. So Cass and I walked around and took lots of photos. She’s not half-bad once she opens up. That girl’s a closet-freak, I just know it…

We went back to the hostel for a quick rest. When I got up, I talked to the cute German girls that were new to our room. They were smoking and offered me some, but I was already high and needed “going out” motivation, so I politely declined. I took a shower. It was heaven. It was hard to maneuver because it was so small, but it was heaven nonetheless. I got all dressed up and was looking pretty fly. Then it rained. Fuck.

Cassidy and I went to this lesbian bar. We had some drinks and played some pool. Nicole’s head was still suffering so she didn’t come. There wasn’t a lot of action at the lez bar. Kinda dead. We met a cool MILF bartender named Veronica. She was pretty much the only interaction I had. And she was from Clearwater! Crazy small world.

After that, we attempted to go to this dance club that we heard about called Paradiso. It was closed, and our plans were thwarted. Then we went to a bar called Belushi’s. Cool scene, cool music, uncool people. There was no inter-mingling of any sort happening, and I wasn’t having it. Then we went and did karaoke with some Asian people. I sang Stevie Wonder’s “I Just Called to Say I Love You.” One guy knew two words and kept shouting them out as I sang them. “Love youuuu…” Hilarious shit.

Cass and I were about to call it a night when we met Justin Squared. That’s what I called the two guys named Justin who were from L.A. I was walking down the street and heard English…American English…and whipped around in my drunken stupor to meet them. They showed us the whores. Finally! It was weird. They all stand behind these windows in the street – windows lined with red light – and pretty much make love to whatever passes by each one’s window. There were all kinds. Old. Young. Black. White. Toothless. Saggy. However you like ’em. One of them definitely wanted me. Or my money. It’s the same thing to a whore. And that’s ok with me. Once we had our share of legal prostitution, the four of us went to a place called the Player’s Cafe. Beer. Conversation. Justin Squared is a Jew. Both of them. It was great. The Justin with light hair works in TV for The Ghost Whisperer. Oh, Jennifer Love Huge-Tits.

It was a great birthday.


Was woken up at 10:30 A.M. Still feel a little off from the time change. And alcohol. And weed. And overall stimuli.

Nicole’s migraine turned into “The Plague.” I told her it was all her negativity manifesting itself physically. She told me to shut up.

Went to the Van Gogh Museum. It was cool, but I was a little disappointed that Starry Night wasn’t there. Skeleton Smoking a Cigarette was probably my favorite. I want the newest David Sedaris book. I saw it in the airport for $26. No thank you. I liked Crab on Its Back too.

Then we went to the Anne Frank House (Huis). Fascinating, informative, depressing. Almost cried four times. It was just weird knowing that I was standing in the room where the writing of the infamous diary took place. She was terrified. And inevitably alone.

Sometimes I feel like that. A lot, actually. Born alone, die alone. Trust yourself. No one else.

Then again I wasn’t a Jew in the 40s.


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