NEW BLOG! NEW BLOG NEW BLOG

I shoulda done this earlier, but...

I'm keeping a new summer blog to document my Big City adventures as I try to make it as a stand-up comedian in New York. Follow the gripping action at Comedy on the Cob, and check back often for more updates. There is still more to update on this blog! I haven't even told y'all about my crazy Croatian encounters!

I'm a lazy asshole,
Scott

Who's to say...

As I sat in Sal’s Pizza snickering at a morbidly obese woman wash down a slice of Sicilian with a diet coke in the booth next to me, listening to Joe Morgan and Jon Miller call the Yankees-Mets game on the television behind me, and watching tattooed, spiky-haired employees in “got sauce?” t-shirts shuttle between the kitchen and the counter around me, I realized that I was likely the only one in the room who could locate Denmark on a map. Certainly, I was the only one who had lived there for four months. Did that make me feel better than everyone else? Yeah.

But there are no fat people to silently judge in Denmark; no Sunday Night Baseball presented by Taco Bell, no hackneyed t-shirt parodies, no Sal’s Pizza.

America, fuck yeah.

Made a quick stop at the airport candy shop (the most essential shop in the airport) where I bought the ex-girlfriend the obligatory inappropriate novelty garment - a Candy G-String. I had my choice between the Candy G-String and the Candy Bra, but the bra is almost too believable. I can understand the evolution from Candy Necklace to Candy Bra – once you’ve got it around the neck, it’s not a big stretch to move it down around the breasts. It’s funny and functional, offering satisfying sucrose support. But Candy G-String? Do you know what goes on down there? That jungle environment is no place for the safe, dry storage of sweet candies, especially after a five-mile jog. Can you imagine? The wearer is looking at severe confection-infection, at best. At the very worst: confection-conception. Have you ever seen an ultrasound on a womb full of gummy bears? They don’t kick playfully and suck their thumbs like human babies; they claw and scratch at each other like the feral gummy beast spawn they are. Cesarean births are recommended.

Too bad they didn’t carry the Vibrating Candy Cock Ring. I’ve got a date coming up with Princess Lolly, and the bitch gets freaky.

And that's the end of that chapter... (wipe hands in satisfaction)

For my last night in Denmark, I made sure to look ridiculous.

That's me posing with a girl who was born in 1990.

Yep, this last night had a little bit of everything - Black-Eyed Peas, air humping, high schoolers... everything. I started off at Sly's host family's house where his hot host sister and her hot host friends were throwing a hot host party. Rando Nation was raging, and the Grumney Grimace™ was in top form. After creeping out a crew of sweet sixteen year-olds, we took the party downtown for the DIS Concluding Shitshow where the supply of free champagne and cheap booze was matched only by the amount of times I asked random girls on the street to come back to my pad for a cuh-caine party (i.e. there was a lot of alcohol). The party was a good way to say goodbye to all my fabulous new facebook friends in one easy step, and I took the opportunity to, in no uncertain terms, confess my semester-long lusting for Sofie, the DIS receptionist. She was either amused, or very scared. The evening wrapped with a farewell tour of the old stomping grounds - L.A. Bar and The Happy Pig. The Pig was typical Pig - frigid women and a whole lotta standing around. But at L.A., a coincidental encounter served to put a cap on Copenhagen in the most John Cusack way imaginable. Who do I run into but Caroline from my Tale of Two Bars post way back in the beginning of the semester. I had met Caroline on my third night in the city at the very same bar, and now on my last night, I see her again. We chatted for a bit, caught up on the past four months. I wanted to know why she never returned my calls, and she said something about not being used to having a nice guy interested in her. Now that's a crocka shit and we all know it. She also mentioned her father passing away in the interim. Now that's... there's not much you can say to that. What followed was the awkward condolence to someone you don't know too well, someone you slept with one night four months ago. She looked good though, real sexy like the last time I saw her. As she left the bar, I caught a glimpse of the tattoo on the small of her back peeking out under her shirt. Now that's shiksappeal.

I've got to be up in a couple of hours to pack up the rest of my things and move out. Flight's at 4 PM. Arrival in New York is 8:45 PM EST. I hope to finish updating my Eurotrip posts in the air so that the blog will be complete for publication when I get home. Vi ses.

Denmark's The Spot Wins Congratulatory Handshake in DIS Blog Contest!

Peace-Loving Asian Girl took home the top prize of 1,000 kroner for her "cultural insights and inspired writing style." My blog wasn't allowed to be included in the competition - something about it being too kickass and/or racist - but the head blog guy in the IT department gave me some words of encouragement and a shake of the ol' mitt. He said if it were up to him, I woulda been considered for the money, and Quebec would be granted sovereignty.

Granted, the Funlist might be a little too..."fun"... for the family-oriented DIS website. Hell, you think my parents know about this blog? That's what a fool believes. No, no, there's no way I would be writing about my experimentation with soft drugs and my drunken asscapades with slutty Danish women if I knew Ma and Pa were logging in from the old home place. That's why I've been keeping an entirely separate online journal, just for them! Here's an excerpt from last week, when I got high on PCP and rode a stolen bike into the harbor:

Today I had an ice cream. It was so yummy! Chocolate, vanilla, and sprinkles - just like Gramps used to get me. Tomorrow I'll be volunteering at an after-school program for palsied children who are learning to play soccer. Those little guys just love to run around! Alright, got to get back to studying for my exams. Hopefully I'll finish in time for the big Scrabble game with my hallmates. Winner gets an ice cream! I love Denmark!

And here's an excerpt from the day I kidnapped a homeless man and sold him to a foxy-boxing promoter for use as a punching bag:

I saw a family of ducks crossing the street just as I was getting out of class! The whole scene was just adorable, especially the little baby bringing up the rear. He could hardly keep up! Tomorrow I'll be volunteering at an after-school program for illiterate Somalian immigrants. I'm just happy to be using my newfound Danish fluency to help others.

You can view the rest of Scott's Study Abroad Computer Diary here.

Going through the mess of papers on my desk, I found this scribbled on a page of notes from Environmental History. One day, I'll work it out to its full potential.

I've tried carbon dating, but it's hard to really get to know the person through just their bones. Sure, I can take a stab at how old they were and estimate their height, and I can tell whether they were capable of bearing children. I can make an educated guess about the climate they lived in. I can determine what foods they ate, if they had parasites, whether they suffered any blunt trauma or vicious animal attack... but I'll never know their hopes, their dreams, their desires. And they never have a good pic.

Tonight, I succumbed to the neon lights. It's not what you're thinking - I didn't get a hooker. But I did fork over some serious kroner to satisfy another of man's carnal desires: lard. I caved to my crave for American fast food at around 2 in the AM after a good night of drinkin' and watchin' "fodbold." I knew I wanted a burger, but it couldn't be just any burger. If I was going to break my long standing "This Dude Eats Only Local Food" policy, I was going to do it with THE KING. Fuck McDonald's -- make it a Whopper my good man, er, woman, er...huh? Androgyny at the register aside, the burger was flippin' fantastic. We're talking, really really amazingly good. So good. It's the mayonnaise/ketchup combo I tell you, and the flame-grilled beef! And knowing that Denmark's fast food is the healthiest in the world added a smug sense of justification for my rare indulgence. Everyone's a winner, except my colon.

So much to do in this, my last, week in Denmark. Clean my room, pack my bags, eat pastries, start smoking, see Hamlet's castle, study for exams, watch "Dude, Where's My Car" three more times, quit smoking, learn how to roller blade, celebrate my birthday, write a letter of apology to the fat Anna Nicole Smith for making fun of her in a wet dream about the skinny Anna Nicole Smith... so much to do!

That's a palindrome.