Friday Shuffle

Here it is, my iTunes shuffle mix:

1. "Depende," Jarabe de Palo
2. "40'," Franz Ferdinand
3. "7th Morning," Psycatron
4. "Rosa Parks," Outkast
5. "Rouge," Miles Davis
6. "Oh," Ciara featuring Ludacris
7. "Jettin'," Digable Planets
8. "Everywhere," LNM Projekt feat. Bonnie Bailey
9. "Budo," Miles Davis
10. "Isolada," Cesaria Evora

Strictly Confidential

Makes you wonder if he got one of those emails from someone receiving a "large sum of money" that he needs to quickly transfer through a Chinese bank account.

China seeks "strategic partnership" with Africa

ABUJA (Reuters) - China wants a "strategic partnership" with Africa, President Hu Jintao said on Thursday, seeking to add a new political dimension to a blossoming economic romance. Link

Or maybe they're just excited about the offspring of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt.

If you're curious to see what happens when a Nigerian money scammer is baited by an American advertising agency, head to Arch Rival and click on "Strictly Confidential."

Much Better Than "Duck Hunt"

I can't figure out how to embed players from Google video, so head over to Best Week Ever and watch this funny video.

Google Gone Wrong

Considering the close links (no pun intended) I have to web search/internet juggernaut Google, I am pleased to announce the lauch of another site created by one of my wonderful ad school colleagues and friends, Google Gone Wrong. You know how you go to Google image search and type in something completely innocuous like, 'Wal-Mart' and end up with an image of a fat guy wearing nothing more than a plastic bag?

Yeah, that's the point of the site.

Submit your Google accidents today!

Funny Commercial

Somehow Rushmore now makes even more sense.



If the player won't open, you can click here.

Friday FUNday XX-travagan-ZAAAAA

As I currently have six or seven huge projects to work on all day and all weekend and all through next Wednesday, I see no better time that to totally procrastinate and bring you, dear reader, the rewards of my abundant web surfing all week long. What fantastic things am I discovering on the internet? I thought you'd never ask.

All right, first up is a weird music video I spotted on German music channel VIVA. (As an aside -- I spent the first week in Prague wondering why all 30 channels were in German. I was thinking, "I know that this country has a long history of German rule, but it seems a little weird to not have even ONE channel in Czech!" Then I found out that the previous tenants of our lovely prison-viewing apartment were German and programmed the satelleite to receive only the best Germany has to offer. I did a little exploration with the remote and found some Czech channels but, sadly, nothing in English. Anyway, I have been entertaining myself by watching weird German movies from the '70s and '80s and trying to decipher the plots based on the actions. Also I've now seen episodes 4 and 6 of "Star Wars" and Jackie (then Jacky) Chan's amazing "Superfighter 3" both dubbed into German, neither of which I really needed the dialogue anyway. "Superfighter 3" was released in the US as "The Fearless Hyena" -- actually a really cool movie. Hopefully I am learning German through osmosis and will be fluent by the time I go to Hamburg in July. Anyway, on to the video.)



Yay! for dayglo raccoon puppets!

Moving on. Next up is this fantastic clip of Olympic superhero Evgeni Pluschenko, courtesy of my favourite interpretative ice dancer Annie "Buttercup" Williams.



(There seems to be some problem posting the player here, so you may have to click this link to see its fabulousness.)

It is, as Paris Hilton, would say HOT! Speaking of Paris Hilton, her tribute to Hugh Hefner at his 80th birthday is so ... shameless, it's AMAZING. Good really is the enemy of GREAT, isn't it? I don't know if it is her delusion of real talent or complete lack of shame that makes me love her as much as I do. Go, Paris!

All right, I shall conclude this post by following the current trend brought on by The Onion and other fine sources of internet entertainment (or in my case, endless hours of procrastination, which I call "work") and perform that whole "shuffle the iTunes, post what the first 5 are." Lucky you!

1. "Days Go By" - High Contrast (from FABRICLIVE. 25: High Contrast)
2. "Star Eyes" - Charlie Parker(from Jazz 'Round Midnight)
3. "Gadget Funk" - The Herbaliser (from Take London)
4. "For the Babies" - Damien Marley (from Welcome to Jamrock)
5. "Broadcast Channels feat. The Cardinal" - Freestylers (from Pressure Point)

All right, back to "work." (Translation: follow every breaking celebrity gossip development on the internet.)

Turns out the prison across the street is none other than the infamous Pankrac Prison, converted into a Gestapo Prison swiftly after the invasion of Hitler in 1939, later used by the Communists to jail (and execute) thousands of dissidents, and still considered to be a pretty wretched place (this article from Radio Prague has more on its current state). I'd link to Wikipedia but that site seems to be having problems.

I've had this joke for a while that it's pretty much guaranteed that anywhere I live in Europe will almost inevitably turn out to be one of the least safe places in that particular city. I slummed it in Barcelona's Barrio Gotica (and got mugged, at knifepoint, a block from the apartment my TEFL programme put me in), roughed in Madrid's Lavapies (living amongst Moroccan members of Al-Qaeda and enduring mugging #2 another block away from my apartment), then lived a moderately-safe, though heavily immigrant-populated, neighbourhood in Amsterdam, followed by a sort-of-safe part of London (a short bus ride from King's Cross). OK. So, I was nervous at first about our agency-provided flat here in Prague. Namely that walking to work and the metro involved going through a sketchy underpass. I was assured that it was safe and that Prague was a very safe city. "Would you send your 12-year-old niece through the underpass at night?" I ask. After a thoughtful pause: "Well, you can take the tram from the metro to in front of your house after dark." OK. So far, so good.

Then we find out that we're across the street from a prison.

OK. Again, not exactly comfortable with that, but if the agency and school think this is an acceptable place to house two Americans (or Europeans) unfamiliar with the city of Prague, fine.

So last night, my partner and I headed out to a pub after work with two of the creatives we work with. We had a great time, drank a few pints, then decided to head home. Partner and I headed for the nearest tram line and went on our merry way home. As we stepped off the tram near our house, Partner suggested we pop into the closest restaurant/pub for one last beer. I glance in the window. "I don't know, there's only dudes in there."

"Oh, it'll be OK, you're with me."

"OK."

By dudes I mean -- no one under the age of about 40, all men, all a little -- how to put this delicately -- rough around the edges. The bartender wears a vacant, bored expression. We get our beers and sit at a table. Partner gets up to use the bathroom. I basically stare at the tablecloth until he returns, fearing that all the men in the place think I'm some kind of prostitute. I see him chatting with someone as he returns from the bathroom and sits at our table. The guy coming from the bathroom -- Shaved Head, big, tough, mean-looking -- and his friend, Caveman -- flannel, checked shirt, prominent jaw, enormous forehead, beard -- gesture for us to join their table. We decline. They take it upon themselves to join us.

At this point conversation happened really fast through shards of broken English. Shaved Head had gotten out of prison that day, Caveman and he had drunk an entire bottle of Absinthe in a half hour, and I realise they're speaking German.

As Shaved Head and Caveman attempt to tell their story and convince us to drink whiskey (firmly declined), I notice that Shaved Head keeps pushing back his sleeves. And there's a giant swastika tattooed on his forearm, encircled by a large eagle of sorts. In his left forearm, I spot a large S.S. tattoo, along with other Nazi insignalia. As everyone's speaking, piecing together the stories, he keeps stroking the swastika. Keeps pushing his shirt sleeve up further, keeps pushing it down a little, rubs his finger across the swastika and down his arm, then back up again. One thought in my brain: Run.

I kick Partner under the table. We finish our beers fast. I can't normally drink beer fast, but I managed to get down what was remaining in my half pint within a few seconds. How do we leave the bar without potentially upsetting and angering our recently-released-from-PRISON pal/Nazi. Who's now stroking Partner's face saying, "Blue eyes. Blue eyes" as Partner is saying, "Yeah, don't touch me like that."

We paid for our beers, and got home safe and sound. But it does not bode well with me to know that recently released prisoners just hang out in the neighbourhood after they've served their time for whatever the hell they're in jail for in the first place. Not to mention that, after seeing a group of Nazis march along the banks of a canal in the Red Light District in Amsterdam, this is now my second Nazi encounter in Europe (third if you include the English woman screaming racist statements at a Pakistani man on the London underground, but I don't think she's a tattooed, full-on member ... yet). All right, admittedly we shouldn't have gone in the restaurant, but the place is a brightly lit place from the outside that looks as normal as any pub we've been to here in Prague with Czech people. I've had a hard enough time feeling like I'm in a safe place in this city -- I've endured enough muggings for one lifetime, and I really don't want to add another (or a worse crime) to that list. The idea of tough criminals wandering my neighbourhood after they've been released for doing hard time for who know's what (and let's just say Shaved Head did not look like he would have qualms over murdering anyone) does not put me at ease!!!

I Heart Europe: Chapter 8,210

I don't know whether the title of this post should refer to the fact that this is probably the gazillionth chapter on how much I adore Europe, or whether I should be the president of a chapter of a lovers-of-Europe club. (Actually, since the latter sounds like a swingers group, I think I'll stick to the first.)

Anyhoo. Last Thursday my partner at the agency and I had the opportunity to join our fellow creatives and hit Loucasek, the Czech advertising awards! Not only did I run into Emil, a friend of mine from Miami, but we got to see our teacher as well as our agency win a bunch of awards, all in the same of fantastic advertising, and drink tons of Gambrinus. The after party, held at a club next to the river (which I keep wanting to call Klub Latka, but I digress), had free food and champagne. Some of my favourite things in life include those very two things, especially when preceeded by the word "free."

The best part of the night, however, were these adorable Czech girls standing around at the awards presentation. I tried to be inconspicuous, and as a result she came out all blurry.



Somehow they managed to find, like, 50 identical girls, all 5'5, perfectly fit, and clad them in black fishnets, black hotpants, a little red jacket and cap, and a black bob wig. Then, for the presentation, they had other girls present the awards in gold sequined vests, black jackets with coattails, black hotpants, fishnets, and black top hats. Um, can I just quit everything and run away to Vegas already and become a showgirl? Such better clothes than office wear.

All right, moving on. Friday we were allowed to come into work an extra hour late, which was a huge relief, and that evening I met with a fellow Nexus graduate, albeit one from about 10 years before me. We had a few pints and shared UCSB stories for a few hours. Fun! Plus, he deejays a music show on a Czech radio station here, so we had a very good chat about music as well.

Saturday is practically synomous these days with shopping for me, so I'll just leave it at that. That evening, the partner and I decided to stop being lazy and finally hit up the town, so we started off at an Irish bar called Molly Malone's in Stare Mesto before ducking into an outrageously expensive bar before deciding to cross the Charles Bridge in hopes of something still open in Mala Strana. We were going to head to a cafe that the partner knew of, but I heard strains of music coming from a door down a tiny street, so we followed our ears. And found this cavernous bar that was full of people and fun. I met two lesbians from England whom I impressed with my San Francisco-bred tolerance, knowledge of all things English (ha, ha) and ability to order them tap water from the bartender.

Sunday I woke up to this weather, so I pretty much stayed in bed all day.



Monday I decided that I'd had enough laziness, so I took the tram into town in order to get a better sense of where exactly in Prague I'm living. First, the apartment is not as far away as I'd thought, and as the tram line is laid in the street running by our front door, I guess I don't have any excuses for not getting into the centre more often. Not to mention that the look of the neighbourhood starts to change fairly quickly into a prettier, cobblestoned version of Prague and I even spotted a cafe advertising 'cappucino' about 4 tram stops away. Yay!

I headed to a cafe in Stare Mesto, a bright and clean place called Cafe Montmarte, which was thankfully peaceful and sparsely full of French people. I did some work for a while, then headed south along the Vltava with the intention of going to explore Smichov.


Walking along the Vlatva.








The "Fred and Ginger" House.


After crossing the bridge, I ended up in Smichov. I had intended on exploring but realised that I didn't have the right map with me, so I decided instead to head north to Mala Strana.


Oooh, I feel another type odyssey coming on!












































In Prague, you will never eat alone.


I took this one in honour of Shelley, because I immediately thought: ***CUTEZY***














Stairs leading up -- I didn't take these, but memories of shlepping up the hill to Hradcany back in 2001 came flooding back. This time, the journey up wasn't as ... unpleasant ... namely because I wasn't following my long-legged travelling partner as he raced to the top in record time. Sample of typical conversation:

ME: Jason, can we please slow down?

JASON: Walk faster.

ME (internal voice): AAAAAAAAH! (Envisioning taking Jason by the throat and strangling him while screaming every profanity known to man.)

Moral of the story: Travel alone.
















Have I mentioned that puppets are for sale everywhere? Personally, I'm beginning to find them a little freaky. However, if they have plans for Chucky 17 or whatever number it's up to these days, it might be kind of cool to set it in Prague where the thousands of the evil puppets come alive and wreak havoc on the city. Could be kind of like "Hostel-meets-Chucky." Come to think of it, that's exactly the kind of film Hollywood would make. I'd better go copyright my idea this minute.




















Guess that pretty much ends any property disputes.






Socialism 0 Capitalism 1






I have been eating too many sausages here in Prague.


















Golden Lane, once home to Kafka!


I resisted the temptation to start singing "We welcome you to Munchkinland tralalalalalalala ... " But I didn't resist the urge to type it!!


This guy was posing through this tiny window for his girlfriend. Bet he didn't know he'd be FAMOUS!






Alas, this road leads us away from the castle. After leaving Hradcany, I crossed the river and waited in a torrential downpour for my tram to take me back to the comforts of home.


Ah yes, the beauties of Nusle, my new 'hood. Something important happened here in 1945, but not understanding Czech, we'll never know what it was!

Don't Call It A Comeback

The original blogger, Marc, is back with a new blog, Everything Wrong Again.

Photo Post

Having not slept a great deal last night, I'm not really feeling like writing a great deal. But I thought I'd get these photos put up on the internet.

Here's what it looks like if you enter Vysehrad from the north.

















OK. Moving on. This Saturday, after venturing out in the morning to do some grocery shopping (I'd been told about a farmer's market near the closest supermarket, and got some fresh leeks for only a few crowns), I headed north into the centre. I had heard that the neighbourhood of Vinohrady was pretty cool -- definitely not a major tourist attraction, at least not for tourists only in town for a few days, and full of lots of beautiful old buildings.



What I didn't realise was that if I got off at the train station, I would not be able to get to the other side and actually be in Vinohrady.

So, I had to do a bit of a detour.
















Detail of an old tomb on the side of the church.










At this point I had to start hiking up a small hill.




The stupid train station I had to walk the ENTIRE way around.


There it is! Vinohrady, looming on an inaccessible hill!


Perhaps you would like to visit the Nad Museum?*

*Probably does not meet Nad Museum, but I had a chuckle.


Anyway, Vinohrady did not disappoint, except that it is very hilly.




But the architecture is really beautiful, although not all of it has been renovated to look like Prague's equivalent of the Sunset District.


The best discovery, however, was this totally bizarre building with this GINORMOUS clock built into it. I looked it up later and it's a church! I guess if you live in Vinohrady you can never make the mistake of not knowing what time it is and missing a service.

At this point I was exhausted, so I hiked to the nearest metro station and headed into the centre of town, Nové Mesto. From this point on, I basically wandered in aimless circles taking photos.


Interesting sculptures I saw in a courtyard somewhere.




These witch puppets held a "welcome" sign and have red eyes that light up and flash when someone approaches. Just my kind of welcome!








This guy nervously tried to get out of the frame of my picture, which I take as a sure sign of GUILT, you pickpocket!


Ah, the Disneylandesque architecture of Old Town Square.


This random band was playing.


Hi, random lady.


The famous clock tower.






An example of Italian Renaissance sgraffito decoration.




I am slowly becoming an expert in architectural/design styles, as evidenced by my proclivity towards becoming enthralled by any fine example of Art Nouveau I see.








My "expertise" is diminished by giggling over "Mucha Arts" (my brain reading "mucha" as Spanish for "much") only to learn that it actually refers to one of the most famous Czech Art Nouveau designers, Alfons Mucha. Hmmm.



On Sunday, Natasa, the creative coordinator at the agency, had us over to her house to make potato pancakes and decorate eggs.


In order to make potato pancakes, you have to eschew all methods of modernity and grate what seemed like 800 potatoes against a metal grater, trying to keep the blood brought on by nicks and cuts out of the potato shreds.


After you've put the American bourgeois to work, you add 2 parts proletariat and a dash of bolshevism! Or, a bit of flour, 2 eggs, tons of marjoram, salt, and pepper.


Natasa demonstrates how to add oil to her special pancake pan.


Meanwhile, we got to work on the eggs.


I was put in charge of potato pancake tending.


And voila!

Only Four Months Later ...

One of the problems with my broken camera was that I was never able to get the remaining photos from the camera onto my computer. Now that it is (miraculously) working again, I bring you the photos snapped on New Years' Eve with Kris on a bridge over the Thames.






We were very smart and brought a bottle of champagne out with us.




Kris, about to cork the bottle.

There. Now that those are up, I feel a sense of relief. Here's to 2006!

Miracles of miracles!

Last night, I reached into a cabinet next to my bed to pull out the set of sheets I had with me in London to see if they'd fit on my bed (well, beds). My broken digital camera was resting in one, and as I yanked it from the cabinet, the camera dropped to the ground, the part that slides across the lens falling off in the process. I hastily snapped the part back on the camera and, lo! The lens suddenly slide back into the camera. I slide the part back. The lens came out! I uttered what can only be described as scream between pure shock and sheer joy and ran out to tell my roommate/partner what had happened.


Drew, the first photograph taken during my state of surprise/happiness.

So without any further hestitation, let us dive into a pictoral journey of my little world here in the pretty city of Prague.


OK. We found this bizarre, foam-cut, bright orange letters in one of the cupboards. We then made this super arty sculpture, replete with putting a photograph from Czech Elle into a found picture frame. Voilà! I am the next Martha Stewart.

Here's how it looks on my walk to work:


The street where our flat is.


Nearing the underpass.


The stairs leading under the freeway.


It is a little scary at night.


On the other side, you are greeted with this vision of modernity.


Then you cross this street.

There are lots of little shops along this street, but most of them are small delis.


Frogs and juice, a winning combination. (I'm sure the copy on the sign reads, 'Feeling parched?' but that's just me.)


Czech china.


Everyone in Prague has a dog. They are all so well behaved and cute, like these, waiting for their owners outside a shop.


And this one.


Time to cross another street!


Nice example of an ornate Art Nouveau façade.


And another dog.


The first gates of Vysehrad!










In case you are thirsty.


More gates!






This church was built in the 11th century and is one of the oldest in the Czech Republic. It is a good example of Romanesque architecture.










To get to the agency, you turn down this cobblestone road and walk in the direction of the large cathedral. If you are lucky, like me, you will overhear two American students (pictured) discussing how to properly drink abstinthe. Good times, man!




The park where I ate lunch yesterday.




More park.




When you get to the front of the cathedral, you walk through this cemetary.

But first, the front of the church!




The cathedral is Neo-Gothic although many of the decorations are done in Art Nouveau, like this mosaic above the door (decorated with lions, the symbol of Prague).


This cemetary is where many of the Czech Republic's most famous are buried.










Dvorak!


That's the first glimpse of the agency through the iron door.


And there's the agency!

More to come ... I hope!

Last of London photos

Before too much time passes, I thought I'd post the remaining few shots of London I have.

These first two, taken by my dad, are not the most flattering, but are great if you've forgotten what I look like.


Me, looking like a tourist. Check out my beloved, ancient camera, proudly displayed on my chest.


With my mom. Aw.

As I'm sure you imagine, every day I receive hundreds, if not thousands, of emails written by fans wanting to know where I live. These next two are of my street in London, world famous Caledonian Road. It took me 2.5 months to figure out that it was one and the same as 'Cally' which is how every cab driver refers to it.


Nicely backlit.


Ah, beauty.

Blogger extraordinaire, Miss I. Chat "Shelley" Lui, sent me these photos she snapped of me posing (what else!) on the London underground.




America's Next Top (Catalogue) Model!

Then Shelley reminded me of my humble beginnings as an ad school student by sending me this photo of me, back back back in the day in Miami Beach, at none other than the 11th Street Diner, that famous purveyor of late night grease. YUM!


I love ketchup!

Ahoj!

I've arrived safely and soundly in Prague, and the first day of my internship is winding down. I'm a little disappointed with the location of the student housing (we're not exactly in the city centre, but rather in the part of the city known for its Communist-era housing projects), but other than that, thrilled to be back in this city. I was met at the airport by a driver (holding a sign with my name!) and taken to the flat, where I met Drew, my new partner for the quarter. Other than the totally scary, dark, unlit, underground walkway one must take in order to get to the closest metro station, things aren't that bad. (I've been informed there's a tram I can take to and from the metro when I'm alone after dark.) This city is as gorgeous as I remember from my trip here in 2001; I almost appreciate the architecture more than I did then. And I'm feeling totally inspired to take a ton of photographs, which hopefully will happen this weekend. Yay for Prague!