bryan boy

I now have Bryan Boy as a friend on Facebook. Wow, talk about having the closest thing to a celebrity as a friend. I haven't been reading that third-world skinny bitch's blog as religiously nowadays, but you should. He's the loudest, funniest, smartest and proudest.

Which jives perfectly well with my post today on Brighton and it's annual Pride event. I know I'm a wee bit behind on this (but no, I'm not a behind-person so AIM CAREFULLY DAMMIT) but just bear with me yeah. I'll make this short and sweet so y'all can just click on the link and go see pictures. Someone killed my braincells a little today by asking me to download and watch A Night At The Roxbury so I'm not feeling too witty right now.

After lots of colourful parades (as well as openly gay displays of affection) in the Netherlands, I have to say the Brighton one wasn't too entertaining. Nevermind the few Chinese bitches who elbowed me and shouldered their ways to the front and left me snapping pictures of people's arms or hair or cameras. I was standing quite in front because I've been queuing there, dammit. I'm ashamed of my fellow skin sometimes.

Having said that, I went for a job interview with a manager who's from Brighton (and sounded suspiciously too enthusiastic about the whole Pride thing to be straight) and he said the REAL fun isn't at Madeira Drive (where the parade starts) but at the park where it ends and everyone gets really drunk and clappy-happy.

Note: No, I'm not a 'phobe. My interviewer said "Pride is AWESOME! I never miss a year!" and how can you not suspect a statement like that?

Si got really really sunburnt from sitting on the pebbled Brighton beach and feeding my tuna bagel to the pebbles. After ignoring his pinkness (which turned a more and more violent shade by the minute) by ogling at this hot young thing in a skin-coloured bikini (and betting with Si if it'd be transparent when she comes out of the water) for a good long time, we finally left Brighton. And since it's still quite early, we made an impromptu detour to visit Portsmouth. We drank beer at the pub which is converted from Si's dad's old office, and then watched Transformers at Vue. Then we went home and Si shed skin for the next week.

Now, I shall plot cunningly how to get Azwin Andy into my Facebook as well. *swoon*

No. Her bikini didn't become transparent.

ashamed

I'm ashamed of myself. Haven't been updating for the past 2 weeks! I swear, I'm going to sit my fat-ass down this weekend and catch up with updates on my escapades to several quaint English towns.

The whirlwind called Peter has come and left and I haven't even finished uploading pictures for my Netherlands trip a month ago. Shame, shame. Without further ado, the final chapter of my Netherlands trip (until October, that is), the town which I hate and like at the same time (more dislike than like) - Rotterdam.

Like: Sausages sold from automatic vending machines. Sounds like nothing special at all, right? They're made of horse meat. Both Frikadel and Kroket are made from a mixture of mashed meat, including horse. Uh huh. I had a horse sausage and it was salty and plenty GOOD.

Like: Sweaty and hot young men beating their sticks. Oooh la la.

Dislike: Too politically incorrect to say it here. But you girls can gawk at my usual pristine pictures.

great beer festival 2007

Si texted me to meet in town for a post-interview mini-celebration today. It's been the best interview I've had to date, by a young and laid-back MD with a really interesting background. I didn't think someone up there can be so similar to myself. Let's see what comes out of this. For now, let's see Jessey drink!

Quantity of beer: 6. (Eco Warrior, Guzzler, Ossian, Danish Dynamite, Dark Fantastic, Orval) Nevermind I had like 3 sips on average of each. Just treasure the rare pictures of me actually allowing alcohol into my bloodstream, ok?

Where/What: The one place where all beers of the world come together to teach the world to sing in imperfect harmony (oh the band *shudder*), and drunken men swap clothes with drunken women, and hotdogs go for an insane price, and the queue to the men's port-a-potty is longer than the women's.

How/Why: Because Si graciously paid for everything (including dinner at Wagamama's!) and happily (at least he looked so) guzzled all my beer (that he chose) after my 3 sips. Entrance fee is a crazy 8pounds each ok! I so think I wasted mine. Hence this picture is an attribute to the awesomeness of Si-from-Land-of-Skirt-wearing-Men. Thanks for the experience, sayang.

Tomorrow, we're going to Stratford-upon-Avon to breathe the air that Shakespeare slept, wrote, farted and left a legacy in. And explore Warwick Castle.

No, I don't think Dionne owns it.

i'm funny ok

Sometimes I amaze myself with my own funniness. What's there not to love?

maastricht

Okay okay I know you guys are probably sick of my slow and painful Netherlands posts and pictures (WHAT? STILL GOT?!) but bear with me. This one is speshul, because of many speshul things I got to do besides taking cloud pictures and flower pictures and canal pictures.

I ate an entire raw herring. I've seen plenty of vans and stalls selling them, but somehow eating a WHOLE fish raw just didn't appeal to me like your typical sashimi does. But then, have to try everything once, right? So I went right ahead and bought myself an experience. It wasn't half as bad as I thought! I'll definitely eat it again happily. Outdoors. Because the fish pongs up the whole room and fridge.

I got a strange shout-out from my deceased godbro, Nido. Well, hello there dear! Welcome to the Netherlands! Where've you been for the 6 months since you're gone?

I cycled again after not doing so for about 10 years. The wind rushing past my face and hair was exhilarating, especially when I stood up mid-pedal and yelled a liberating "woooo hoooo". Then the building ache on my ass and pubic bone reminded me I'm not the skinny, sporty girl from 10 years ago anymore. I couldn't sit properly for days after cycling for about 30km that day. But hey, it was fun, and so was the caving adventure we cycled to.

We? Yup, you read it right. There was a man involved. Curious, right? Not just nice scenery, nice flowers and nice canals anymore. Faster go see my pictures-lah.

utrecht

Utrecht is a small town (funny how it's the central train station for the whole of the Netherlands though) surrounded with canals. And interesting pubs and shops surround the main canal. The two rows of shops/restaurants/pubs are just nice for me, comprehensive enough to get whatever one needs but not dizzyingly crisscrossed with other canals and streets to get one lost in direction and choices.

The centre of Utrecht has to be Domplein, where the famous Dom Church is. Apparently one can climb up to the top of the tower and take kickass awesome pictures... but I. Just. Couldn't. Find. The. Entrance. Maybe they're under renovation? I truly believe so. (say otherwise and I'll perform The Nutcracker)

The inside of the Dom Church. Niiiiiiiice. Filled me with childlike wonder and reminded me of the incident where I climbed into the church of my Catholic kindergarten (*ahem* broke in through the window, more accurately) and was punished by kneeling in silence for what seemed like a lifetime facing a similarly colourful (but slightly broken - or was it another one?) window like this one.

Anyway, more pictures here.

After all the sightseeing and obligatory photo-taking, I met up with Jenny and got drunk. Finally, someone smaller than me in size that I could bully into cooking dinner while I lay wasted across the couch staring shitfaced into the TV (thanks, buddy).

middelburg

This could very well be the best leg of my entire trip. Maybe not in terms of accessibility and things to do, but dayum the Bed & Breakfast is fantastic! Quaint neighbourhood with antique cars and resplendent courtyard gardens, I felt like I was walking backwards 20 years.

The bustling town centre with street parades, outdoor cafes, open air rave parties in the park. The starkly quieter housing areas. The long stretch (nevermind it was deserted and cold) of beach just 10 minutes away.

The combination leaves a sweet taste in my mouth. I'm gonna go away now to savour it while I still remember and you people can help yourselves to some sweetness too, right here.

alkmaar

Every Friday morning, locals and tourists alike swarm to Alkmaar for the weekly cheese market in front of the cheese church. Having missed the Keukenhof gardens by an entire season, I wasn't about to miss the cheese so I braved the morning cold and sleepiness.

The sight of so many wheels (is that the right penjodoh bilangan?) of cheese made my heart gallop like a little deer. But alas, I realised that after all the pomp and show (they even have scientist-lookalikes to cut open some cheese and discuss intellectually among themselves for 15 minutes), these cheese aren't for sale! The workers wheeled the wheels of cheese into big trucks, where they're delivered to Timbuktu and never seen again.

What we could buy, was of course these smaller ones, from the one stall selling cheese at the cheese market square. I didn't get any because I didn't wanna be lugging cheese around town on my first leg of journey. Now I regretted it. But only slightly. Because hey, cheese is cheese right. Regardless of whether it's starred in a show or not.

Alkmaar is also known as Little Venice. The end.