Tales from Croatia

the secret origin of bobert:

Day 14

First off you might notice that this letter is an amalgam
(meaning mixture for those of you simpletons without a dictionary on
hand) of thoughts in this letter. That's because I've been putting
this letter off for a while and have been writing crap but not sending
it. This is mainly due to the fact that things have been kind of
boring of late and nothing has really been happening . Then I
realized, hey who cares if its boring and not very exciting/funny its
not as if I'll be reading it, so who gives a fuck. Or at least I don't
give a fuck. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that
its really all your fault for not knowing this stuff. I mean is it
really my fault you can't read my mind. Therefore I think someone
needs to take a timeout to think about what they've done (or really
haven't done). Anyway here's a rundown of the past couple of days.
Well yesterday (Monday) I went to the dentist. I can now tell you
that every dentist office is the same fucking thing. First off the
waiting room; it is the exact same color of off-white as it is in the
states and containing the same amount of out of date magazines. I
couldn't see if they were as boring as they are in the states because
as always over here the damn magazine were in Croatian. And proving
the existence of a dentist conspiracy there were just as many tooth
motif items in the office such as and models of teeth, how-to diagrams
on how one should clean their teeth, posters of teeth, and a nifty
tooth pen and pencil holder.
Any how earlier that day I was hanging out in Nickola's (the guy who
I'm doing the homepage with) apartment. We went there because that's
where we are going to do most of the work, and because I was really,
really bored. When I first got over there we started looking over the
mp3z on the cd's that I had brought with me. I pointed out this one
cool group (Aphordite) to him, and he said cool let's have a look at
it. He pressed a couple of keystrokes and activated the psychedelic
graphics/screen saver/plug-in on Andrew's computer. When I saw it I
immediately stated to chuckle to which he asked me what was so funny.
I told him how me and my friends love to look at it while we're, I was
about to day tripping but not knowing how he would react (and knowing
that it is a police state and that the government keeps a vigilant
watch in its beloved citizenry and internationals, especially the
internationals) I instead said, doing stuff.
Every now and then I'll be cruising along thinking everything is grand
and maybe just maybe I'm getting used to Croatia. But then you see
this one thing, or you are ask this one question and you realize "Yes
Dorothy, you twit, we're definitely no in fucking Kansas anymore."
For example after being here for almost 2 weeks I'm becoming used to
the not so subtle glances from people I was walk by them. However a
couple days ago, as I was walking home, I walked past a fountain in the
main square where there seemed to be a group of about second graders.
They were all standing around the fountain. Wanting to see what was so
interesting, I stopped and gazed upon it myself when this one kid turns
around and looks at me. Now this was a little fucker of a kid, I mean
I could see it in his eyes. I mean the kind of little fuck that Will,
and Kev must have been when they were 7. So when it dawns upon the
little fucker that what's before his eyes is really real (i.e. me), he
laughs. This obviously not enough, he then points and laughs. I guess
believing the first official Croatian Bobert sighting was something
that should not be missed by anyone, he then pulls on the shirt of his
friends, all the while pointing and laughing at me more vigorously,
while explaining to his friends what was so funny. Ignoring my first
reaction to punt the little fucker into the fountain (or at least body
slam him into it), I turned around and continued my walk home.
Another example of this is one thing that I know I will never get used
to, the crossing of streets over here. That's because unlike the
states with its stop signs and crossing lights at every intersection,
Croatia has crosswalks. Where as in the states when one sees a car
approaching they either wait for the car to stop at the designated
point or dash into the street while knowing that the car will only stop
if it is 2 feet from hitting you(but its fine because both you and the
driver know the contract and realize that the other is an idiot). Well
over here when one sees a car approaching they say to themselves its ok
the nice car will stop for me and calmly step into the into the street
and wait at the foot of the crosswalk (did I mention that this is in
the street). Now the first time I crossed a street it was with me mum,
and I asked her hey what's going on here. She said "No, its ok.
NOTE: THIS IS A LONG LETTER AND MIGHT BE A GOOD TIME FOR A PEE AND
BEVERAGE BREAK.
Over here they'll stop for us," and told me how it was done over her.
I replied with the equivalent of "Um you're shitting me right, where's
the fucking light." And she went on to firther explain how over here
if there is no cross-light, that drivers automatically yield to
pedestrians. Then I was like "Yo, yo ma. This is funny and all. But,
no, REALLY, how do we cross the street?" She said that we step into
the street, wait a bit while some cars pass us. Soon cars will see us,
slow down, and then we cross. The unbelievable part was that she was
right, we got into the street, the cars really stopped, and we crossed.
As a one time experience it was great but I have to do it everyday.
Coming from a pretty big city (maybe its not THE city but its big
enough to have crazy taxis) you can understand how hard it is to cross
a street while putting your faith in the hands of a driver. Not only a
driver, but a driver who started driving while Pepsi Crystal was still
popular (for you see cars didn't come over in mass numbers until 3
years ago).
Another problem I have is that unlike every 8 year old in existence I
don't know my home telephone number and address. Every now and then
the question pops up, and when it does its really embarrassing. For
example today when the dentist asked me for it all I could was shrug
and give him the number and address NOTE: MY WINDOW IS NOW OPEN AND
SOME PEOPLE WERE TALKING ON THE STREET IN ENGLISH. YOU HAVE NO IDEA
HOW REFRESHING IT IS TO UNDERSTAND A CONVERSATION THAT YOU OVERHEAR. I
THINK THEY WERE DISCUSSING HOW THE MATRIX SUCKED SO I HAD TO WITHSTRAIN
MYSELF SO AS NOT TO GO OUTSIDE AND BEAT THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF THEM.
ACTUALLY, NO ,THEY WEREN'T SAYING THAT. BUT! IT WAS ONLY WAY TO MAKE
THE NOTE FUNNY. of my mom's office, which I only knew because I had a
card on hand. The resolution is one that works for the dull-witted,
preschoolers, and the criminally insane, carrying a card with my
address and home phone numbers. So that if the subject ever comes out
I can pull out the card and gesture or point to it. For emphasis's
sake I've decided to include grunting, moans, and a little drool much
like Benny's future retarded child (much like Benny for that matter
actually). All I need to do is safety clip it to my shirt and wear
earmuffs like the guy from Something About Mary.
And get this, earlier my mother and I were walking through the center
of town and we passed an ice cream shop. She said that they have great
ice cream here, there being nothing better than a strawberry shake,
(though I have no idea how to say strawberry) I asked how were the milk
shakes. She tells me that they don't really have those over here. But
that if I really wanted a milk shake I could go to McDonalds, though
they have foresight and compassion to not really raise your hopes too
high and just call them shakes (for there is no milk and no matter how
much frozen water (ice you simpleton) it may contain, there is
defiantly no cream). Granted they were under socialism/communism for a
bit, but what does it take it to throw in a couple of scoops of ice
cream and milk into a blender. I mean they've had to of seen it in
some episode of Friends or Magnum PI (or some other show that they or
the Germans have borrowed) and thought to themselves hey the people in
the magic box seem to be enjoying the concoction they just made, why
don't I try that. It works for them with fashion, and hey it even
worked for us with that stupid raw egg crap that Stallone made in
Rocky. NOTE: I'M NOW WATCHING A REALLY BAD JAPANESE SCI-FI MOVIE
(NAMED MUTANT CITY. A MUST RENT!) DUBBED IN GERMAN. IF ANYBODY HAS
PLAYED/SEEN THE VIDEO GAME RIVAL SCHOOLS, THE TEACHER WITH THE GLASSES
IS IN IT. ALSO ON ANOTHER GERMAN CHANNEL, THERE WAS A GERMAN SURF BAND
NAMED THE BAMBI MOLESTERS. GOD BLESS THE GERMANS.
At some point while writing this ill-begotten letter I was watching
the classic Sally Jesse Raphael episode "Help my Prostitute Mom". At
first I was skeptical but then I realized that maybe it's a metaphor
for life. Maybe Sally Jesse is right in saying that before we can help
ourselves we must first help the prostitute mothers within all of us.
Sure I bet some of you are thinking or saying "Hey what the fuck am I
talking about," but that's denial talking. But when you are ready I'll
be here, ready and waiting to help you heal your inner prostitute mom.

-Bobert

ALF RESULTS:
Question: Should I wake up for Alf on Saturday:

Results:
YES: Everybody except Pete
NO: Pete (I don't know. I guess he just really hates Alf)
Yes but only if you're tripping: Foxley (Though it really was a yes or
no question)

Conclusion: My mom left before telling me when Alf comes on and what
channel. And the TV guide is in Croatian. But thanks for playing



More things to add to the hat:
Make the night a drunken belligerent night. And when people ask why
you're being so damn belligerent. Tell them to sod off.

PS: Sorry for the sub par humor but I think its really withdrawl. When
I find a local crack dealer, things should be back up to par.