Species Profile Part 2

Cutilius 'n Cuddilius
Common Name: Bunktown
Description: Approximately 180cm in length, 170-190 pounds. Extremely hairy abdominal region, strong thighs; physique oftened compared to that of Ursa Cuddilius, commonly known as "Teddy Bear."
Range: University District, Sporting events, "Soufend."
Diet: The dietary habits of the Cutilius 'n Cuddilius (often shortened to "Cute 'n Cuddly), varies greatly depending on the animals mood and available food source. Has been known to subsist for large periods of time on cheese quesadillas and Carlo Rossi Cheblis, but it is also not uncommon for it to partake in such exotic delicacies as gyros and "Jimmy John's." One dedicated researcher noticed that for a brief period of time during the animal's adolescence it could often be found in the dining area of the University of Washington HUB, furtively stealing copious amounts of Dr. Pepper.
Mating Habits: A subject once shrouded in mystery, recent research indicates that the Cutilius might exhibit a proclivity towards choosing life-long mates, often favoring females from his preferred southern territory. This, of course, abolishes the long-conceived notion that the Cutilius did not like females at all, but rather preferred older, hairy males from the Bainbridge Island region.
Remarks/Observations: Like the Seviglius, the Bunktown is usually quite tame, normally only exhibiting aggression when sporting teams from its preferred region do not perform to its high standard of excellence.

File Photos:

In this photo the Bunktown exhibits a facial expression that most would interpret as "unbridled anger" or disgust. However, it is actually one of extreme jubilation possibly bordering on "sillyness," a reaction most likely spurred by a tasteless comment from one of its companions or a favorable turn of events in a recent sporting activity.

Here we see the Bunktown in a very relaxed and docile state. Note the addition of the woolen hat usually more characteristic of its female companions, and also the soothing fuscia color of the blanket the Bunktown has casually draped around its neck.

Species Profile

Seviglius Skinnilius
Common Name: Big Bird
Description: Up to 2m in length, 130-140 pounds. Baby-like skin and inability to grow facial hair possibly stem from past lineage with Native American Indian. Fingers often stained orange from Cheeto abuse. Cell phone with hand firmly pressed to ear forms awkward, arm-like communication appendage.
Range: Snow-covered mountains of the Pacific Northwest and Western Canada, Tacoma.
Diet: Skittles, Coca-Cola
Mating Habits: While sporadic and prone to Inebriated Levitation Syndrome (ILS), also known as "Whiskey Dick," the Seviglius is actually quite potent and has been known to mate up to 6 times in one nocturnal period. (Researcher's note: Some studies have also shown that it is not uncommon for the Seviglius to become gender-confused, sometimes asking males of similar species if they want to have "sleep-overs" and/or "kiss."
Remarks/Observations: The Seviglius is most commonly known for its lanky build and sporadic, fro-like hair. While normally very docile, it can become quite aggresive during feeding periods if it feels its food source has been infringed upon. The Seviglius' incredible ability to subsist on a diet comprised almost entirely of glucose owes itself to a metabolism that one researcher likened to "that of a hummingbird."

File Photos:


Speciman (background) pictured with a seemingly hungover version of the Lesser-Spotted Zygar (foreground)


In this photo it is quite easy to see the Seviglius' disctinctive hair pattern. Also note the communication appendage instinctively reaching for left ear, although this is certainly one of the few photos that features the Seviglius displaying said appendage without the aid of customary cell phone.

Be Cool

I found myself ranting a few days ago here in a bar in Ecuador. I was accompanied by two Scots, and we were drinking 22 oz. bottles of Pilsener while the bar played “Don’t Cry” by Guns ‘n Roses. The basic gist of the rant was this: I fear I am beginning to hate travel, due to the fact that discussing travel has become akin to discussing Politics and Religion.
Politics and Religion are something I have never wanted to talk about in my life, as I think they are both patently ridiculous. It seems, superficially, an open and shut case: Everyone loves God (or at least some form of Him), and everyone hates George W. Bush. But this is where I get angry and flare my nostrils and feel the urge to punch the 20 year-old Business major that is scoffing at George Bush’s apparent mismanagement of some or another policy, more often than not involving the words “Kyoto Protocol.” I don’t want to discuss it with this asshole, because I doubt his sincerity. More than likely he recently read a newspaper article on said subject, and now feels he is an authority. But if I ask him to stop, and I ask him the simple question “Why do you dislike George Bush?” his answer will almost invariably be this: “Because he’s an idiot.” Everyone seems to agree with this fact, but for awhile now I have been quite afraid that most people don’t really know why. Sure, to be fair, there are plenty people who are well informed about George Bush’s policies and the world of politics in general and thus are completely justified in their opinions, but I also suspect that a very large portion of people hate George Bush just to be cool.
In this day in age, it’s certainly cool to hate a lot of things, not at all limited to George Bush. It’s cool to hate Starbucks. It’s cool to hate McDonalds; it’s basically cool to hate all corporations. But it’s also cool to love certain things: Fair trade coffee, the Boston Red Sox, the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But this is where you need to be suspicious. Just because it’s “cool” to love these things doesn’t imply they possess intrinsic “coolness,” and this is why: The people that think the aformentioned things are “cool” are a very specific breed. They are the kind of people that claim to love every kind of music “except country.” They are the kind of people that think John Mayer is decent, and the kind of people that think U2 “rock.” They are also the kind of people that have sold their souls to Satan.
With this in mind, it’s still ok to like certain things that basically everyone thinks are “cool,” for example: Led Zeppelin, medium-rare steaks, Michael Jordan, Jessica Biel’s chest. These are things that have leapt from the gambit of just “perceived as cool,” to the higher strata of “actually cool” (and in the case of Jessica Biel’s chest, “actually fucking amazing”). So I guess the lesson is this: like things, and even love things because they are “cool.” Embrace them openly, and throw yourself into the deep blue sea of admiration, but always remember why you are doing it. Ask yourself, “Why is this cool?” Because if you don’t, you might just find yourself alone in your room, casually drinking Budweiser Select and listening to Limp Bizkits “Chocolate Starfish and the Hotdog Flavored Water.” And that’s not cool.

Hell Week

Hell Week. Or as Neil calls it, “Hella Weak.” This is what I have dubbed the following week of my travels, which will probably start sometime Saturday night when I board a bus for the 12 hour journey to Cuenca, a city in the south of Ecuador. The goal of Hell Week is simple: To get as far as I possibly can, spending as little money as I can, in one week. If you're currently in Peru you might see in a few days a little kid on the streets, covered in grime and holding out his hand for a piece of bread. Look closer, however, and you’ll see that it’s not a street urchin but actually a 24 year-old gringo, and the “grime” is merely a case of unfortunate facial hair. You should give it some bread though. It's hungry.
So as you can see, I will be effectively “skipping” a large portion of land aka Ecuador and Peru, which might prompt some of you to ask yourselves, or assuming you are insane, have a conversation with yourself that sounds something like this: “What an idiot. Why is he doing that? That sounds awful. Doesn’t he want to enjoy his travels? There are so many beautiful things to do in Peru and Ecuador, he’s really going to regret having missed out on them. If you want my opinion, he’s a damn fool.” Whoa...let's back up a second. Damn fool? Isn't that a bit harsh? You are pretty opinionated for someone that is currently sitting at a computer, reading a "Blog." Assholes.
Anyway, I maybe be a fool, but I am a fool that wants to get a fucking move-on, so that come New Years that fool is in Bolivia or Northern Chile, instead of Cusco, Peru with 700 other Americans, passed out in the bathroom because his violent diarrea is coupled with a wicked case of altitude sickness. So anyway, that’s Hell Week, after which I will be doing “Yes Week,” in which I will attempt to say “yes” to everything for a week, much like what Danny Wallace did for a year in his book, “Yes Man.” The only restraints on my “Yessing,” or “Sí-ing” I suppose, will be that I will not allow myself to backtrack, and I will not allow myself to say “Yes” to something that will force me into a situation in which I spend more than a certain fixed monetary amount (probably like $20; I’m hella poor). Even so, I'd say there's a decent chance I could find myeslf in some kind of unusual situation, maybe naked from the waist down riding a llama through the Andes or something similar. You get the idea.
One unfortunate thing about "Hell Week" is that internet will not be in the budget! I am quite serious about this "spending as little as possible" stuff. Anyway, wish me luck and talk to you in a week!
- Boosh Clown

Song of the Day: Walking on Broken Glass by Annie Lennox

Internet Café Woes

This is the first installent of a blitzkrieg series that will be titled "Internet Café Woes". I'm writing this series because in the past it has been extremely difficult to write about anything with a shred of consistency, and since I A) go to internet cafés a lot, and B) Never do anything worthwhile while I'm there, it seemed like a good idea.

That said, I am currently at an internet café in Popayán, Colombia. Popayán is about 7 hours from the Ecuadorian border, which is where I am heading tomorrow. With any luck I will be in the southern hemisphere sometime tomorrow evening, a place I have never been. The thing I am most excited to do once in the southern hemisphere is flush the toilet, since apparently the water will spin in the opposite direction as it does here in the North. Apparently there is some kind of Simpsons episode about this in which Bart prank calls a kid from Australia and then gets arrested by the police. I often question my maturity level.

But here actually IN the internet café there is a slough of activity. The guy to my right is resting his chin in his left hand and looks bored enough to die. The owner of the café is excitedly typing away while simultaneously DJ'ing the reggaeton tunes that are being broadcast throughout the cafe. So, I guess maybe a "slough" of activity was an overstatement. In retrospect, this place is about as lively as a funeral home.

However, I like to think I am currently adding a dash of my own gringo flair to the establishment, even though, other than the fact that I am the only one here that speaks fluent English, my gringo flair is waning. The highlight of my attire is a fake Nike sweatshirt that I recently bought in Bogotá, which certainly does not speak traditional gringo decadence. In other news, I am clean shaven, something that hasn't happened since the spring of 1985. I realize that some of you might find this disturbing, which is why I will be doctoring all photos of myself on Photoshop with a fake beard before they go on Facebook.

Now the internet cafe seems to be coming out of it's shell. The gel headed DJ has put on a non-reggaeton song by Bob Sinclair, and I have a new neighbor directly to my right. She looks to be about 14 and from a quick glance I see that she has approxiamately 400 more MSN Messenger friends than me. This fact seems to be stressing her out, due to the fact that her chicken peck style typing skills do not allow her to adaquetly keep in touch with all of them. I, on the other hand, can type quite rapidly with my refined "home row" technique, and currently have 2 buddies online. What's up now, mo'fucka?

I was hoping that after this internet cafe experience I would be hungry, but it's not proving to be the case. Yesterday, Neil and I shared a pizza that was roughly the size of a ferris wheel, and every since haven't felt more than a dull aching in our stomachs. Neil is back in our hostel, where he is accompanied by the usual mix of travelers. One of them is the guy in charge, Colin, and one of them is a guy from The Netherlands who has the sense of humor of a tire iron. I don't know what it is, but all Dutch people seem to have a terrible sense of humor. They do not grasp sarcasm. It took Pascal, a guy on our boat from Panama to Colombia, a week of me saying "It's really starting to let up" during torrential downpours before he realized I was being facetious. Of course, as soon as he caught on, he began to try to fashion jokes of his own, which always foundered horribly. It would be semi-overcast and he would say something like, "It's really starting to get cloudy," which would prompt all of us to look at him like he had just tongue kissed his grandmother. I actually saw one of the girls in our group strike her head against the boat's railing after one joke attempt.

Well, I have just surpassed the hour mark on this computer, which means it's time for me to leave and "seize the night." I hope all of you are having a wonderful evening, far far away from over-zealous 14 year-old online chatters and Dutch comedians. If we could all only be so lucky.

-Boosh Clown

p.s. seriously no pun intended in the whole "lively as a funeral home" remark, although I am quite pleased how that turned out.

Song of the Day: Mr. Grieves by The Pixies

The World According to Boosh Clown

We have a winner for the first installment of "Guess What Mark Typed in on Google Image Search to get His Facebook Profile Picture" and it is none other than...Andy Bunker. Awesome. At this rate Mr. Bunker is on track to win a date with himself. So I beg you, faithful readers, get your goddamn act together. That one was so easy. "Muscles." Come on. Anyway, big shout out to Bunktown for participating and winning. I shall post a new picture briefly. Two more things: 1) It usually helps to click on the picture and see it full size for maximum brainstorm capabilities and 2) I guess there aren't really two things, although I kind of want to yell at you again for not participating with more gusto. I know some of you aren't able to check Facebook all that regularly, but let's face it, most of you can, and do.
Last thing, if you're going to be in the greater Bogotá area on Saturday there is going to be a kegger (yes, a fucking kegger in Colombia) with beer from the Bogotá Beer Company. Apparently the boys from the Swedish embassy will be there, so if you're into gaunt 27 year-olds named Helmet this kid be your Shangri-La. Give me a shout.

- Boosh Clown

Song of the Day: Carismático by Babysonico

The Poorer Parts of Bogotá

As many of you have noticed, my Facebook profile pictures can be, at times, "unorthodox." In fact, you may have wondered where I obtain said pictures, indeed the very question posed to me this morning by a faithful reader of Blog is the New Blog. The question specifically asked, "What do you type in on Google image search to get your pictures?", after which she called me "ridiculous." This is the first time this question has been directly posed, and I upon leaving the internet café to wander the leafy streets of Bogotá I was left pondering the intricacies of such ballyhoo. Also, as some of you may have noticed, my friend Andy, proprietor of the the runaway hit sports blog "Road to the Bunktown," is holding a contest to usher in holiday spirit as well as make fun of people with bad names. I stopped in my tracks and muttered to myself, "Hot damn, I should have a contest too."
So, in the spirit of Bunktown's genius and the desire to keep my own blog "interesting," I bring to you, for lack of a more concise name, the "Guess What Word Mark Typed in on Google Image Search to Get his Facebook Picture" holiday contest extravaganza(GWWMTGIMSGHFB if you're into abbreviations). Each couple of days (non paramilitary kidnapping permitting) I will update my Facebook picture with something off of Google image search (aka exactly the same thing I do everday). Your job is to find which word, or combination of words (I will let you know how many) I typed in to obtain said profile picture. The word must prompt a first page hit, and the first person to post it on my wall wins (please, no guesses (assholes)). Some of them (the current picture) will be rather easy while others (I hope) will be "really fucking hard." For an example, refer to my last Facebook picture, in which I typed "portly" to obtain the somewhat comic representation of a middle-aged man with an unfortunate "beer belly."
The contest starts today with my current picture of a fairly strong looking man with a wicked hair-do. In fact, before I saw this picture, I didn't know it was possible to vomit and laugh at the same time. Anyway, let the games begin! oh! And I forgot to mention the prize. The prize, for the person with the most correct answers by Christmas is......a date with Andy Bunker! Fathers lock up your daughters, it's hunting season!!!
Happy Holidays,
Boosh Clown

Song of the Day: This One's For the Girls by Martina McBride

p.s. I really hope some of you noticed my inappropriate overuse of quotation marks. Take that, Hemingway.

Travel Tips with Boosh Clown

Ladies and gentleman, today I bring to you the very first installment of "Travel Tips with Boosh Clown", a series that is guaranteed to be as informative as it is scintillating. The idea for this series came to me yesterday in our hotel in after I smelled the socks I had been wearing and nearly fainted. At that moment I found it not only high time to change socks, but also to bestow to you the knowledge I have aquired over the last few months through rigorous trial and error, and more than one baffling conversation with travelers whose first language was Hebrew.
Some of you might know already that I hate the travel publication "Lonely Planet", and for that matter, all guide books. The advice they give you is usually ridiculous: the Dangers and Annoyances section alone is enough to make you think that every semi large city is a veritable lion's den of pickpockets and murders. To make a long story short, the people who write for Lonely Planet are assholes. Anyway, here is the first installment of Travel Tips with Boosh Clown, starting with the rule that prompted the very creation of this section. Enjoy!
Rule 1) Wear your socks and until you can’t describe the way they smell without using the word “acrid.”
2) Drink the mo’fucking tap water! Don’t be a pussy. If the locals drink it, you usually can too. It will save you money on bottled water and remind you how satisfying it is to take a long swig of cold water from the sink after brushing your teeth.
3) Learn the language. Or at least make an attempt. Listen to how locals say the words and try to imitate the sounds they make exactly, much like a parrot. If you find yourself sounding silly, you’re probably on the right track. If you find yourself pronouncing the double "l" in "pollo", catch the first flight back to Bremerton.
4) Don’t get hammered. Let me take that back. Get hammered, but do it right, and only do it sparingly. If you don’t wake up with a nasal drip in a strange bed next to a girl named “Claudia,” then you probably didn’t party hard enough. On the other nights, however, drink in moderation. When you’re in an exotic land there’s no use doing what you did every night in the dingy bars on the dingy street next to your university. (See also: Earls + The Ave = Manic Depression)
Readers note: This rule basically only applies to me, as I have a drinking problem.
5) Hang out with the locals. Try to do it at whatever the cost. You’ll end up seeing parts of the city you never would’ve seen, eating food you never would’ve eaten, and talk to people way cooler than the board-short wearing Aussies at your hostel.
6) Go to church. Just kidding! (sorry Nancy, I know that one's not funny)
7) Avoid Israelis.
8) When in doubt, get the chicken. It’s always delicious.
9) Get a bottom bunk, and if possible, a bottom bunk in the corner. You can then, by hanging your towel from the top bunk, shroud yourself in your very own fortress of solitude.
If only it was soundproof; German is a barbaric tongue.
10) Listen to the song “Tony the Beat” by The Sounds. If possible, softly pump your fists during the chorus.
11) Eat street food. It’s cheap, it’s good, and until it happens to you, you can scoff and take comfort in the knowledge that only "other" people get stomach viruses.
12) Don’t listen to Robbie Williams. There is a reason he never became popular in The States. He is awful.
13) If a German person says a place is good, it’s cheap. If an English person says a place is good, it’s expensive. If an Irish person says anything, they're an alcoholic.
14) The song “Black” by Pearl Jam is epic.
15) The song "Scar Tissue" by The Red Hot Chili Peppers is terrible.
16) If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. And you’re probably in Mexico. And you probably have syphilis.

Well that's it for the first installment of Travel Tips with Boosh Clown. Happy December!

Song of the Day: White Christmas as performed by Louis Armstrong

p.s. I had to look up the spelling for "syphilis" on Google.