Hangover is a bitch.

Proč nemůžu spát tady?  Well, Emily, you can't sleep here because it is a field and it is cold and it is wet and you are drunk and wearing a nice dress that now has white field marking paint on it.  GET UP!  What a good guy that Petr taking care of his psycho drunk wild American love interest.  Although, I almost would have preferred to sleep in the field and die over night over waking up and feeling like death and having to milk a bitchy, pregnant, cow, and sheep.  Oh well, at least I was drunk enough to notbe able to hear Petr grind his teeth at night.  That is the worst.  In fact, I am taking my mom's advice and while I am in Brno I am picking him up a mouthguard.  Not that we sleep in the same bed very often, it is more for his sake and the sake of his teeth.  

Last night was a blast and I am almost positive my Czech improved as the night went on.  We all met at this little building which is the designated futbol locker room and listened to terrible music.  There were maybe twenty of us and there was keg and a handle of whatever liquor you preferred and enough for each person. Damn these Europeans.  They drink themselves and everyone else around them stupid.  It is nice to let go every once in a while.  I will now take this time to quote Meredith Grey in a not so quoted fashion.  The gist is.  She drinks tequila when she needs to strip herself of the days heartache, unease, stuff..... and she basically rocks my little make believe world right now so if she can drink herself under the table and kiss boys she has no intention of loving SO CAN I!  And no Derek, you have no right to call her a hopeless whore, you did this to her....blah blah blah.  

Thad is finally leaving and I am heading down for the weekend to bid him farewell.  I haven't seen him since he left for Poland but it should be nice to catch up.  I hope we do mindless activities like watch movies and eat.  I would do anything for baked goods right now.  I am tired of running also.  I hate it.  I hate running and I do it everyday.  My record is 11 miles.  Who runs 11 miles?  Only psycho people that have too much shit going on in there head and no where to unload it.  I run and listen to music and stare at an empty bottle of whisky that rests on a shelf in front of the treadmill.  I should also mention that the treadmill is in a little cellar where we make honey.  I should also mention that I am a bee keeper.  Well, was, not anymore because we got the honey.  It is a really incredible process and one day I will write about it but the point is  that I run in a dark little room that smells of wax and honey and stare at a whisky bottle.  It is routine.  It is mindless and meditative and I hate doing it but I love what it does to me.  It makes me so tired that all I can do is go to bed and not think so much.  

This is a truly pointless post.  It contains no real substance or continuity.  It also lacks in evidence of the author (me) having any ability to write meaningfully but to top it all off here are some windows that may or may not be opened:

1.  I found a really great company in Thailand that holds deep water soloing clinics and climbing expeditions.

2.  I have researched and contacted a few cooking schools in Prague and landed myself a job there if I want it and potentially a place to live.

3.  I am getting some vaccinations for Africa because they are sooo cheap here.

4.  Patrick flies into Budapest in September and I may go meet him because he asked me too and because I can!  How cool is that.  I have never been there so why not?

5.  I am so overwhelmed by the unlimited amount of possibilities and the ability to do whatever I want.