In A Box - Andy Samberg and Justin Timberlake Digital Short

If you enjoyed the Chronic of Narnia 1/10th as much as i did (or 1/1000th as much as Dara), you will like this. Let me know if the link stops working.

Good Night Bangkok

Jen and I are leaving Bangkok tomorrow. I fear that the rest of the world will seem predictable and mundane. This is because i have now seen it all. I realize that you readers would like me to describe the wonders and horrors that I saw. I'm not ready for that. I will need a good deal of time and an equal amount of therapy before i can fully release my mind from the fetal position it is in.

All in all, Bangkok has been fantastic. Jen and I loved it. Recommended for all. Except children. and conservatives. and those with morals.

Now we're back to the the Philippines for a tropical Xmas!

wooooooooooooo.

One Night In Bangkok

Bangkok, Oriental setting
And the city don't know that the city is getting
The creme de la creme of the chess world in a
Show with everything but Yul Brynner

As I'm sure you all know, one night in Bangkok can make a hard man crumble. So just think what an entire week is doing to me.

Currently Jen and I are in Sin City, Thailand. We arrived Saturday and met Jen's former roommate, Lisa, and her husband Tim. This was not a coincidence, as they teach English here in Thailand. However, their hometown is lacking things like go-go dancers, booze, and illegal items, so they were as excited as I was. We all swapped stories and drank beer out of a giant bubble gum machine that they brought to our table. I'll try to include a picture someday. it was awesome.

Next day we saw China town and rode around the river in boats like we were in Miami Vice. We also saw more than our share of dogs humping in the street.

Tim and Lisa had to leave. Jen and I then saw some kick ass temples and buddhas. After cleansing our souls, we bought lots of trademark infringed objects, pirated movies, and other stuff that seemed awesome at the time, but maybe tomorrow won't seem to be the steal that we thought it was.

Today we swapped hotels to something really swank. I celebrated this by buying a T-shirt that said, "Movin on Up" I'm sure this T-shirt was produced illegally. somehow. Tonight the club scene is right near our new hotel, so Jen and I will see if we can make the world our oyster.

One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free

Ringo and Craig's Xmas Video

My friend Craig and I were nominated to MC the staff Xmas party here at the International School of Manila. We thus decided to make a documentary video of our preparation for the event. I hope you enjoy it. Special thanks to Kevin for editing. Also thanks to Anna for helping us entertain the people for the remaining 2 hours after our video finished.

My International Music Career

For the first time since the glory of days of KC and KT (Kansas City and Kevin Taylor) I’m in a band. We’ve had many names: The Whatevers, Powergrade, Sexpatriots, etc. I encourage you to offer suggestions. It is made up of my fellow colleagues and me. (Soula, James, Tricia, and Jen Smith) This is fitting, since my social life strictly revolves around colleagues. Good thing it’s a big school, and filled with great people.

So far we’ve had two gigs. The most recent will perhaps explain my school. It was a foam party held at the high school. If I had suggested “foam party” at any public US high school, everyone would picture some freaky-deaky scene from Cancun, and answer with a resounding “No.” Not at ISM my friends.

Not only was there a foam machine, there was also a stage, a slip-n-slide, 4 gazillion dollars worth of sound and light equipment, inflatable decorations, and roadies to set it all up. I’ve never had anyone installing microphones on my drum before. It was the definition of crazy.

Plus, from what I could tell, everyone was sober. And they remained fully clothed. I’m pretty sure that in the US, neither of those two events would have happened.

Crazy.

Anyway, we played cover songs and it was awesome. We did No Doubt, Jet, Green Day, and my personal favorite, Presidents of the United States of America (Peaches). I’m going to celebrate their entire collection. I recommend you do the same.

Trivia Night and the FPA

Assuming we are not on strike or taking shelter from Typhoons, Tuesday’s are trivia nights. Our team name is the FPA. As you should know, that stands for Fist Pumping Action. Which obviously means whenever we get a question right, that we exhibit a ridiculous amount of one handed pumping action. Sometimes both hands if we’re especially riled up.*

This would normally cause us to be hated by other teams. Fortunately for them, we don’t get to fist pump very often, as we are not very good. At least not very good at answering questions. However, we win the costume contest every time. We award this prize to ourselves. This is easy to win since no one else dresses up.

Just in case someone decides to challenge us for the costume prize (hard to do since we are also the judges), we switch up our costume weekly. We have also gone as Golf Pros and Tennis Hos, and The Whig Party to name a few.

action photos!

* I have to give citation to the KC based group known as the Boss Tweeds for giving us the idea of turning trivia into a costumed affair, and specifically to Aaron for bringing fist pumping action back into my life.

Why I Live in Manila

One of the best things about moving to a new place and making new friends is that you can recycle some of your best material. When looking at the picture above (assuming my internet allows it), those of you in the States are probably thinking, “Ho hum. Ringo’s in the astronaut costume again.”

However, at my friend Steve’s 30th birthday, people actually broke into applause for the astronaut costume. The theme of the “fancy dress” party was 60’s and 70’s, but no one expected Neil Armstrong to show up.* Jen and I were immediately facing a half dozen flashing cameras. Sort of like facing the paparazzi for about 30 seconds.

I fully understand if you readers are questioning the part about “applause” and “flashbulbs.” I tend to believe that people are always applauding my actions and taking photos. However, Jen confirmed it. It really happened.

* "Fancy dress" means "costume party" if you hail from the British Commonwealth. I'm not really in the habit of using that term, but i like to sound of it. Almost as much as "Aluminium."

Motorbikes

I ride a motorbike to work every morning. So does Jen.

If anyone such as Kevin, Dre, Gants, etc is reading this, they’re probably laughing their ass off if they can see the picture. These people either own, or have previously owned a legitimate motorcycle. Mine is certainly not a motorcycle. It only has 110 cc’s, whereas I think a real motorcycle has something like 4 x 106 cc’s. My bike in the US would probably be classified as a “scooter.” I’m ok with that. It is at least shaped like a motorcycle.

Actually it’s shaped like a dirt bike. I know this because the guy who sold it to me, said, in broken English, “This not dirt bike. It look like dirt bike, but if you jump…….” At this point he made a symbol with has hands as if breaking a large branch over his knee. I promised him I would not pretend to be playing Excite Bike.*

It doesn’t really go very fast either. But that’s OK also, because neither does Manila traffic. In a taxi, I could spend 40 minutes traveling 4 miles home after work. Most of this time you are stopped. With a motorbike, you are allowed, actually expected, to simply ride slowly through the stopped cars to the front of the traffic light. It’s a pretty great system.

Jen and I also have extremely large helmets and padded motorcycle jackets. The padded jackets are probably a bit much, especially since it never drops below 75 degrees here. But having big elbow guards makes me kind of feel like Barry Bonds, minus the part about being a douche bag.

* I used to make some pretty rad courses on that game.

Monkey Sex and Cardinal Victories

After observing monkey sex and lizards in the underground river, we boarded an outrigger boat and set sail for an island paradise. (This is the best opening I’ve ever written.)

Eventually Jen and I arrived at the island paradise resort of El Nido. You can only arrive by boat (although I guess parachute would work as well), and the best part is they play a welcome song for you on the dock as you arrive. Once arrived, your “activity director” sits you down to plan out the following day for you. Then you are shown to your air conditioned room that receives electricity 24 hrs a day (quite a luxury in island paradise). Afterwards, you are allowed to graze the giant buffet lunch served 3 times a day, every day. Then you are allowed to meet with San Miguel, which for you non-Philippine dwellers, is like meeting with Auggie Busch or Pete Coors.

Jen and I were interrupted from our building of true Philipino friendships* by another welcome song. Our colleagues (JB, Tara, Fred, and Sandy) had just arrived. I put their names down because they might read this, and people like to read about themselves. My 4 colleagues promptly told their activities director that they did not want to do any activities except “building true Philipino friendships.” This greatly hurt the feelings of their activities director, which meant the resort disliked my colleagues, but liked me and Jen. We all spent a lot of time with San Miguel on the beach, and even played an ingenious version of bocce ball throughout the resort’s restaurant and bar that involved coconuts and some acrobatics. I did not win, but I heartily thank JB for enlightening me on that game.

Jen and I used our pull to convince the resort to point their satellite skyward every morning, and set up their one television to watch the Cardinals in the World Series. Unbelievably, I was able to watch the final 3 games of St Louis’ greatest moment in sporting history. I fully represented America with a great deal of profanity, high fives, and humping the air in jubilation. You also know that the fist pump was in prime form.

We stopped scuba diving in plenty of time to fly to the next island paradise. (This was key so as not to explode on the airplane.) However, I was a little disappointed in that Sangat Island reserve was no where near as posh as our last home. I sat in my powerless, dark, sweaty hut with dejection. 30 seconds later the monkey parade began! No more than 30 feet from our hut! And what do you think those monkeys did as soon as they realized they had an audience? You guessed it. Monkey sex, Act II. These monkeys (and monitor lizards as well), were around throughout our stay. Pretty awesome until I tried to approach baby monkeys for photograph and the male leader nearly attacked me.

In all truthfulness, the highlight of this island was the scuba diving. Jen and I dove down to see half dozen giant Japanese ships sunk during WWII. Some of them over 2 football fields long. It was crazy shit.

No we are safely back in Manila. No monkeys here, but still plenty of opportunity for building true Philipino friendships.

* This is what every bottle of San Miguel says on it

PS: the picture seen is what happens if you google "monkey, cardinals." It is entitled "Boots the Monkey." I don't know what it is, but I can't stop laughing.

Those Crazy Monkeys

My apologies on my absence from the world of blogging for several weeks. I have no one to blame but myself. And my shitty internet connection. And being overworked. And power-outages.

Jen and I just returned from my new favorite holiday at International School Manila entitled “2 Week Fall Break!” Unbelievable how awesome my life has become.

We decided that instead of exploring other exotic countries of Southeast Asia, that we instead would explore some of the 7000 islands of the Philippines. This decision was aided by the fact that some member of the Philippine Work Visa Committee actually has our passports still, and I did not know who exactly to bribe.

We headed south to the island province of Palawan for tropical island paradise. It did not disappoint. Our small plane touched down in the province’s capital, Puerta Princessa. The main attraction here seemed to be the bizarre fact that there were 8 tricycles (local taxis) per every one traveler. A real buyer’s market. I used my slick negotiation skills and non-existent Tagalog to obtain a tricycle ride to the next town, which we all agreed was about 12 km away. The driver promptly drove us exactly 12 km into the middle of a rice field, pointed to his odometer, kicked us off the trike, and drove off. Great. Undaunted, we flagged down a giant jeepney (the Philipino equivalent of a bus) and made our way to the town of Sabang.

In Sabang, one could take the 6 km “Monkey Trail” to the Underground River (a World Heritage site!). This trail involved little more than sweating my balls off until we found ourselves surrounded by about a dozen monkeys staring at us hungrily and waving their opposable thumbs around to show us they meant business. Being accustomed to stupid tourists, the monkeys remained focused on our hands, since in all their past experiences, food occasionally was produced from hands. We did not fall for this. The male leader monkey quickly got bored of us, walked over and gave the business to the female monkey of his choice. I nearly fell over.

I do not have photos of this spontaneous act of monkey sex. Don’t even ask. Even if I did, what sort of blog would this be if I published that type of imagery?

Then we continued along the trail and I nearly fell over again when I saw a leopard about to be eaten by a Komodo dragon! In reality, it was only a sleeping housecat, and a giant monitor lizard.* But these crazy lizards were about 4 feet long and did not even notice me. They had no opposable thumbs, but they also had no natural predators. So they just stared at me and walked past. Thank god no one was giving those goddamned animals any booze!

Eventually we took a boat trip through the Underground River. I don’t remember much about the river though. I couldn’t stop thinking about what horrible things were going to happen when those crazy monkeys got a hold of those god-damned reptiles.

The pics of the craziness

* No housecats were harmed in this blogging episode. I honestly don’t know why.

Celebrate Good Times, Cmon.

Celebrate good times.

What a pessimist I was in my last entry! STrike is over!

The remaining 4 people on the board resigned on stage at our meeting this evening. School's on like Donkey Kong!

"Union's on strike, He's Down on his luck, its tough"

Wow my life is interesting now! I don’t even have to make my own drama.

We are now in day 2 of the strike. Yesterday afternoon at our faculty meeting we learned that two more Board of Trustee members (the bad guys) resigned, leaving only 5 of the original 10. They now don’t have quorum and are impotent (ha ha), BUT the remaining board members are digging in and putting up sand bags.

We then needed to vote whether or not to continue the strike. Fortunately, the entire team of principals walked in and announced that they were also now on strike as well. They then all dropped pants and showed that they spelled the words “K-I-S-S O-U-R” on their asses, and directed this towards the remaining board members.

Teachers of course voted to extend strike alongside the principals. Board members had till 8 pm last night to resign. They did not, because they are subscribers to the douche-bag-philosophy. Thus, I had to call 10 of my students and tell them there would not be school today. NOT fun. One board member, in a burst of professionalism, texted the teacher community with the message, “As parents, we think you should all be fired.” We are currently looking for a service that delivers flaming bags of poo to his doorstep. No luck yet.

Today one more Board member resigned (the guy mentioned above). I spent a few hours calling parents trying to get the 800 votes we need to oust the remained 4 board members. I will honestly tell you that if I had to be a telemarketer to put bread on the table, I would starve. Wow did that suck. It’s not easy explaining the situation over a fuzzy connection to a mom who speaks mainly Japanese. But, I think I added a few votes for the good guys. We only need about 150 more.

And so....we meet again in a few hours, but I am not optimistic that the remaining board will resign, nor that we will get enough votes soon enough to have school on Friday. The bullshit will likely last the rest of the week.

Again, check out www.ismstakeholders.com if you are really bored.

We're Strikingl, Bitches!

Warning!!!! Like anything I write, this is NOT to be taken as 100% factual.

Sorry to be only updating you all on the past, namely the Indonesian adventure. Let me fast forward to the present, because it’s become immensely dramatic.

Jen and I (and the rest of the faculty and staff and International School of Manila) are on strike. Here’s the quick and highly biased highlights.*

The Board of Trustees has pulled a lot of douche bag moves. They got themselves elected last year in a questionable and dodgy process of absentee balloting. They’ve been micromanaging the school ever since. The principals of elementary, middle, and high school sent a public letter to the board that could be summarized as follows: “You’re a bunch of douche bags; we refuse to work with you.” The board thought about this, and then sacked the superintendent. They escorted him out of the building, past students, surrounded by armed security. **

Most of us faculty and staff were hired to our nice jobs by the super and principals, so we asked the Board to show up at a “What-the-Fuck-is-Going-On Meeting.” The board did not show up.

So we did not show up at school today. Fortunately, several hundred parents did show up to sign petitions calling for resignation of the board. Hopefully strike will end soon when resignations occur. So far, 3 of the 10 Board members have resigned.


* these highlights are not meant to be entirely taken as fact, but close enough for those of you who will never have any dealings with international education

** Almost all security is armed at international schools, this is not abnormal.

Across the Heart of Darkness

So if you read the blog last, we finished a long, shaky (and yet awesome) boat trip past Komodo Island and some of Eastern Indonesia. We were on the western side of the large island of Flores (100 miles) across. Our flight left for Manila in a few days, but we flew out on the Eastern side of the island. How hard can it be to travel 100 miles? How hard could it be to build a canal across Panama? The answer to both these timeless questions turned out to be the same: “Pretty damn hard.”

pictures that don't really prove it

We sat in the less-then-desirable-town of Labuan Baju reading our Lonely Planet about how terrible the roads and busses were on this island. A bus actually pulled up right next to where we were eating. Great! A young lad, clinging to the outside, promptly leaned over and vomited. Not so great. Bus = not an option.

4 of us decided to hire a driver and an SUV type vehicle to drive us across over a few days. So 3 Americans, one Swiss, one crazy-ass driver set off through the wilderness armed with several karaoke tapes, Carlos Santana, and the Backstreet Boys. Things were bound to be awesome.

Windy roads would be an understatement. The back seat was considered blissful, because at least you didn’t have to watch certain death awaiting you around the next blind curve. Our driver Matt, assured us this was normal. Not overly encouraging, but at least he had lived this long.

He took us to a rural home of a woman distilling Arak: fermented coconut milk, distilled so as to become jet fuel. Whilst the process of this was fascinating, I would rather drink tequila w/ tomato juice, and that’s saying a lot.

We stopped for two nights in the town of Mony (yes, just like the song, “Mony, Mony”). We stayed with Matt’s brother, Bryan. We got to experience some kick ass things like a natural hot springs in a rice paddy and these 3 crazy volcanic crater lakes (the chameleon lakes, all different colors). What was especially bizarre was that when we returned for the 2nd night, a drum set and guitars all appeared, so we rocked out. I played the drum set with actual sticks ripped off a tree. It was classic. I also tried to drink Arak. Ugly stuff. The best part about our lodging was they had a dumbbell set like Marky-Mark used in the video “Good Vibrations”

We somehow made it alive across Flores in time for our flight. Granted, no one knew if it would actually take off or not, nor when. We just hung out at the airport all day. They had a metal detector, but it wasn’t plugged in. Eventually a plane showed up, and some nice man decided to let us get on.

We flew to our new home in Manila.

Burninating the Oceanside

So the blog is still retroactive. Pretend it’s a month ago………

Bad news. Time to get on a boat again. We were booked, not for a 3 hour tour, but for a 3 day tour. It promised to show us several islands and the famed home of the Komodo dragons whilst carrying us to more-Eastern Indonesia.

Pics of Boat Tour and DRAGONS!!!

We booked with Perama, which is an Indonesian tour company, but also sort of like a summer camp. I’ll try to explain. We first bussed across the Island of Lombok to see the great things Perama was doing for the community. The first small town was our rock star tour stop. As soon as we get off the bus, there is a small marching band (all playing gongs, drums, and chime-type things) decked out in Perama T-shirts. We then are then marched along in a parade (in our honor) to the center of the village. As the band plays us along, every child in a 5 mile radius starts filing out of doors, windows, and the air to see the parading whities.

We crowd into a courtyard to see “traditional dance.” I think there was some dancing, but I don’t remember it. Because then this little guy walked out with a wooden shield and stick. So did another guy. A third man, a referee of sorts blew a whistle and put some money down on the ground. I figured I was a millionaire, so I did the same, as did the other whities. Soon the ground was full of cash, one stick guy was praying, and I realized they were not fucking around. They proceeded to beat the shit out each other for three rounds. I don’t know where that money actually went, but I do know boxing seems like a boring sport now.

Then we got on a little ship. The first night Jen and I decide to sleep up-top under the stars while we traveled. Worst idea ever. We nearly got swept out to sea. Only the gods of friction and gravity saved us. The best part of the boat trip was that the boat crew performed awesome dances at night and in the mornings. “The Perama Dance” consisted of captains, cooks, cabin boys, etc, doing a serious multi-version rendition of the electric slide. The next morning we were lined up on the beach and led in musically accompanied stretching exercises. It was awesome.

We soon arrived at Komodo Island. Unhappily, we were told that the dragons were mating, so we might not see one. I figured though, since there are 7 males for every one female, some dragon guy must not be getting lucky. This proved correct as we saw two massive guy dragons ambling around. How do I know they were guys? Because their names were Trogdor. Both of them. They were awesome. No worries about safety though. The most dangerous things were the souvenir salesman at the dock. One poor guy showed interest in buying a wooden dragon, and the salesmen went into an orgiastic frenzy I hope never to see the likes of again.

Soon the real danger would begin….

Why I'm Not a Real Pirate

Still in the past. I am currently a small town in the philippines, but the pictures below relate chronilogically to the last blog entry.

Welcome to Fantasy Island!

We had just left Yogyakart and flown to Bali, which i'm sure is a paridise if you can escape the Hell Hole known as Kuta, which is like spring break capital Indonesia, and motor scooter capital, and capital of people trying to sell you stuff. Dancing was fun in Kuta, and I did get to sing on stage w/ a cover band. I sang a Bon Jovi Song, "It's My Life" It was pretty boss.

We then decided to get the hell out after just two nights, and check out the more remote Gili Isles which were a couple boat rides away. Whoa. Yo ho ho, the pirates life is NOT for me. Jen, myself, and the rest of the free world on our boat were more praying for land-ho within 1 hour of our 5 hour ferry ride. Rocky seas combined with diesel fumes = not so awesome. The high point was that our indonesian ferry boat crew found every small event to be hysterical and demanded a Pee Wee's Playhouse-Word-of-the-Day-Type reaction. Once we finally reached our tiny island getaway, the crew had to use a smaller boat to shuttle people to land. Whenever the little boat took off safely, mass hysteria and shouting. When the boat returned safely, mass hysteria. When the guy driving our little shuttle boat missed the rope he was thrown, mass hysteria. When he caught it, same reaction. They were on crack 24-7.

Upon getting to Gili Air Island we had to wade with our packs thru about 50 ft of ocean swamp. Then we get picked up in a horse drawn cart and driven through a powerless island to our bungalow. Fortunately, the bungalow kicked ass. A bamboo hut w/ porch, hammock, mosquito net, etc. The next few days were spent sitting on a beach and thanking the Gods of Land that we were not on a ship. A special favorite point of mine (and Jen's, in retrospect) was when Gary the Gecko visited our bungalow bathroom. Geckos are everywhere, but this guy was almost 2 feet long!!! He also made this awesome clicking noise. i hope the picture does him justice. Unfortunately it was a one time sighting.

Yogyakarta Pics

Permit me to live a few weeks in the past. Here are a few highlight pics. They were actually taken back in July at Yogyakarta, Indonesia.

Pictures of Awesome

Don’t be afraid, there are not a Mark Gantsian number of photographs. I believe no more than a baker’s dozen. If you really care for an explanation of these pics, you can look back at the posting entitled “Giving the People What They Want.” Only at that time, I did not live here in Manila, where the world of superior technology is at my fingertips.

There are more Indonesian stories and pics to come. Currently, we’ve finished the first week of school, and our Deluxe Apartment in the Sky is starting to look pretty flash. Pics of Awesometown (where I live) will be up soon also.

Back in Action

woooooooo. I'm back! At least, back in the world of non-dial-up internet that is. I'm in Manila. In fact, i start teaching children again tomorrow. But, i now am wireless in my apt. I'll try to retroactively walk you readers through my summer, over the next few days. Bear in mind, you'll be living in the past.

MOre later.

Fist Pumping Action

http://www.alpha-male.org/pics/fist_pump_guy.jpg



First things first. I'm on a mission over here in indonesia. It's a mission to return "fist pumping action" as a means of expressing excitement. This is a one handed fist pump. You all know it. American culture (not our politics) is generally quite reverred, especially that of hollywood, music, etc. So i'm using my american influence to bring this fist pumping action to southeast asia. I credit Aaron with bringing it to the american west. Aaron credits some guy named Glenn in chicago for spreading it to KC. Look for tons of Asians to be doing fist pumping action at the Olympics in 2010.

World cup action took place in Yogyakarta, Indonesia beginning at 1 am the other day. Jen and I woke a sleepy bekack driver (easy to do, i believe they live/sleep in their bike/carts 24-7) and paid him handsomely to to drive us to a street where a giant screen had been erected to watch the match. We met with chaos, since every scooter in a 50 mile radius was there. Any event this big in the states would have warrented about 30 policemen and a news crew. In indonesia this warrented zero policemen and a lot of people selling cigarrettes. The street was blocked, taksi's were honking, and people were in trees, on fences, etc to see the screen. When a team would score, people not only cheered but revved scooters to rediculous levels, causing the greenhouse levels around the earth to double (penalty kicks caused the melting of antartica).

AFter the cup, we slept an hour and then told a taksi driver "airport." He took this to mean "drive me to the airport like you are Chuck Yeager the NASA test pilot." Fortunately, i had recently used our bathroom/hole-in-ground so i didn't need to chage my shorts (for the record, we buy our own toilet paper, and then have to throw it away, ecuador-style).

Now we are in Bali, the capital of Australian Spring Break and home of the infamous Bali-Bombings (we saw the memorial today, over 100 dead). It is supposed to be a beautiful paradise, but in reality it blows, so we are leaving. If you enjoy being harrassed every 30 seconds fo buy t-shirts, sunglasses, mangoes, massages, etc then Bali is for you. If you enjoy playing frogger vs. Aussies who are riding scooters for the first time in their lives, Bali is for you. In defense of Bali, Jen and I did get awesome massages. However, i couldn't help from laughing, because for those of you from Columbia, MO, it was nothing like what you've heard of The Hong Kong Spa or the Foxy Sauna or any other such american massage parlors (no "happy endings" you sickos).

Now we are booked to leave here tomorrow morning to explore some tiny islands and stay in a bungalow. then we are on a boat trip for 3 days to eventually see Komodo dragons. afterwards, we will continue exploring the more remote islands of eastern indonesia. in other awesomeness, there will be no more atm's for the rest of our trip, and 1 Rupiah is worth about half a cent, so Jen and I will have to withdraw about 5 million Rupiah to carry around (literally). awesometown.

Look for my next post to be the ceremony where Indonesia renames the three Gili Islands as "Fist", "Pumping," and "Äction"

PS - check out Ayo's blog and Jen's (the Manila folder) both now linked to mine
- yes, that is probably the most awesome internet picture i've ever posted, that is the look and enthusiasm i strive for

My favorite Indosian Band

last night's entertainment went above and beyond. the greatest cover band in all of indonesia is called Rande-Vu (i think pronounced rendesvous). They will be performing at my birthday party in Manila if all my dreams come true.

We went to this turkish resto (restaurant) for drinks. there was absolutely nothing turkish about it. the entirely indonesian band consisted of drums, keyboard, base, guitar, and 3 very awesome singers (2 girls, 1 guy). compared to the people i see around, they were the hippest people in indonesia. they then elevated themselves in my mind to most-awesome-band-ever with their first cover: P-I-M-P by 50-Cent. I don't think they spoke much english, but i guarantee they knew every word to this classic. Now, i couldn't understand every word, but lets not split hairs here, i knew what they were getting at. What was the next song? How about some Missy Elliot? "My neck, my back, my !@#$, and my crack." A special bonus to this was the choreographed dance moves my all 3 singers. Just when i was on the phone to all my music agent friends in the states, they broke into "Milkshake" (it brings all the boys to the yard). This was by far better than the original. They then proceeded to go through about every US top-40 hip-hop song since 2002. Unbelievable.

They also took requests. I was hardpressed to think of one they hadn't done yet. Jen's favorite song of all time is "Holla Back Girl" by Gwen Stefani. I wrote this down and handed it to them. The girl didn't understand at first, but the guy quickly said (over the microphone), "oh ya. It my shit. It my shit." about 3 seconds of indonesian talk with the band followed, and they broke into a perfect rendition immediately. wow. I've never been so proud of American culture.

a few quick notes:
-- meghan G is awesome because she knew who sang "East-Bound and Down, Loaded Up and Truckin"
-- Jen is also documenting our travels at http://themanilafolders.blogspot.com/ check it out, especially since i make shit up sometimes.
-- pictures may have been advertised earlier. don't count on it. the europeans around me at the internet shop now exactly what the profanity i've been using means, and its all due to trying to put pics on the blog.

Giving the people what they want.

wow. today in indonesia was awesome. i have not seen popularity like this since filling oj's backpack with bacon and sending him through grizzly bear country.


so today jen and i went see the ancient buddhist temple of Borubudur (abondoned around 900 AD). As soon as we hit the bus station, people started shouting with joy at us. i don't know what the hell they were jibber-jabbering about, but i'm pretty sure it translated as "hey whities, get on my bus, i love you (your money)"

The temple was awesome, i'll try and get pics going if i can make picture uploading-in-indonesia happen (as a gambling man, i'll take the under on this). the best part was how much people loved us. Background: whitey tourism in indonesia has been slim since the Bali bombings. Thus, the Borubudur temple appears to be visited by 98% indonesian tourists, apparently most of whom are from small towns who don't get visitors often. About every 5 minutes we'd see kids inching towards us, when we would turn around and say hello, the parents would rejoice and then ask if they could take a picture of us with their kids. The kids would then use the opportunity to practice the english taught in grade school (similar to the spanish you all learned on sesame street: usually "hello," "thank you," or my favorite, "one, two, three!"

Then i tried to book a flight to elsewhere in indonesia. try this over the phone someday for awesomeness. i had to spell names for flight tickets exactly, it went like this

Ringo: My last name is Dingrando. D as in dog, i as in igloo, n as in nancy, g as in grill, etc.
Indonesian receptionist: so your last name is dolardo? B as in bali, i as in india, m as in malsdkljs, and q as in qlkjseotijh?
Ringo: what?????
Indonesian receptionist: sorry?????

i would have taken up heroin right there if there wasn't a death penalty for shit like that.

after returning to the bus station (several miles away from hotel) we couldn't find a taksi (taxi), so we hailed a bekat (cart on front of bike). this poor guy had a LONG way to take us, but he was up for it, and i was high-rollin'. this was like driving on I-25 in rush hour in an electric wheel chair, the wrong way. holy shit. 5 million scooters are passing us, but then to make up for it, our bekat biker doesn't heed stoplights, and he passes when he needs to, oncoming traffic be-damned. did we have helmets? seatbelts? ha. did Noah's neighbors have life jackets? we did have lots of people staring and waving at us. i figured it was a sort "we salute those who are about to die."

miraculously, after about an hour, we made it. i washed the sweat off at the hotel (several buckets of water dumped over the head). and then i feasted on spaghetti with beef, tuna, and squid on top (delicious actually!).

wooooooooooo

Houston, do you copy?

holy shit i'm in indonesia! The computer desk i'm typing on now is made out of bamboo. i'm shitting you negative.

Jen and I got to manila a while ago. Our principal's driver, Albert, picked us up. He was pretty awesome, but all the "yes sirs" and "no sirs" is a little wierd for those of us not used to having servents. He took us to the principal's house (on the 11th floor) to stay, which was pretty much like the jefferson's apt building on the East Side.

Things began to get awesome when we left for indonesia. While on the plane congratulating our selves at how adventurous and spontaneous we were, we discovered that we needed visas to enter indonesia. These cost money upon arrival. Cash money. We left all our shiny new philippino money in manila for our return. Collectively, we had about $3.47. This was not good. Fortunately, we were stopping to let more passengers on our plane in Singapore. Miraculously, the stewardesses agreed to let me and Jen sprint to an ATM to grab singapore monopoly money. I probably withdrew the amount for 18 indonesian visas, but at least they'd now let me in the country.

So then, whilst congratulating ourselves on the plane about how resourceful we were, i read that indonesians don't use toilet paper. They use the left hand and plenty of water. i hate to extend on this too far, but i've shit in the woods a lot. no problem. in ecuador, you had to throw the shitty toilet paper in the trash. not great, but i worked through it. I won't lie, i'm not ok with this indonesian practice. I'm working through it, as are all the other whities (i think i've seen 5 others).

so we hit the Jakarta airport at night, grab our bags, and walk outside. we were then quickly assualted by 290 cab drivers who knew "perfect hotel". this was a flat out lie. our cabbie drove us to 3 hotels. all full. he then pulled into the heart of the slums, got out of the car and left. i was pretty sure he was bargaining with a cousin to let us sleep on his floor. this did not happen. instead he turned us around and started heading BACK to the airport. this could not happen either, so we finally blurted out "Sheridan Bakarti." This is a 5-star establishment. 3 doormen helped us in with our backpacks. Our first night in the cheapest country in the world, and i dropped a small fortune on our hotel. Fine. we decided to drink our way through it at the hotel bar. at least the drinks have to be at normal indoneisan rates. right? false. Upon receiving my bill the next day, the 4 coronas we purchased completely pulled indonesia out of a trade defecit with China. the upside? toilet paper in our hotel room.

Now we're in Yogyakarta. I've never seen so many scooters in my life. Walking through the market is a workout. You may not believe this, but Jen and I don't blend in real well with the locals. here's the conversation i've had 428 times today.

Local:Hello! Where you from?
Ringo:united states.
Local: oh yes! yes! where you going?
Ringo: just to the __________ (insert your own location here, it doesn't matter)
Local: Oh no. the ____________ is closed. Do you like art?
Ringo: ummmm......
Local: I will take you to the Batik (local type of art) superstore. it is the best in the world. and today is the last chance to go there.

this was a little trying. tomorrow we go to see the ruins of an ancient Buddhist temple. should be more boss. Now i'm going to drink giant $1 beers and watch a local band known as "brown sugar"

One Wild and Crazy Conference

I love conferences. Especially ones that involve international teachers.

I spent the past week in Montezuma, New Mexico, at a conference for teachers. I thought this area would be similar to the flaming-inferno-of-hell where OJ lives, known as Phoenix. Similar landscape, slightly better weather.

You're probably thinking, “a conference-full of physics teachers! That sounds like some wild-and-crazy-guys!” I understand. The good news is that other subjects (English, Spanish, etc.) were there also, and helped to balance out the pocket protectors. So did the open bar every night.

One bizarre part was that the conference was held at the Castle of the Arm and Hammer United World College of the American West. It really was a castle (sadly, minus a moat monster). Why was there a castle in New Mexico? Does the Arm and Hammer empire contain royalty or a connection to education? I don't know. To add to the bizarreness, whilst attending open bar #4 of the conference (i had perfect attendance at these), two black helicopters landed on the school soccer fields, and then flew off. I'll probably not wake up tomorrow for posting this on the internet, but I'm pretty sure it was area 51 type shit.

Anyways, I met teachers from all over the world. They can't really party like the All-Stars, but they did hold their own amongst the teaching world.

Now I'm hanging out w/ my mom in Denver for the weekend, then Jen and I take a moving truck to St. Louis (East-bound and down, loaded up and truckin')*. Look for word on the awesomeness of that roadtrip

wooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

* special shout-out to whomever can name the song/movie that line is from. Marvelous Marc Gants IV got the last trivia question (Sir Mix-a-Lott)

Flaming Asshole

it didn't really look like this


Sadly, due to professional reasons, i have removed this post. It breaks my heart, as it was one of my best. However, if you're reading this, i could probably be convinced to tell you in person.

Inside Ringo's Head

Awesometown Intro


Sometimes when friends hear that I spent 60% of my shipping allowance on sending costumes to the Philippines, or that I spent 6 days of my summer vacation backpacking through the desert, they ask, "Ringo, what goes through your head?"

I have always had trouble explaining. Until now.

My Education

While I'm sure I'll learn lots of great things this summer, I would like to thank OJ and Aaron for teaching me the joys of watching cartoons all day (after nearly dying on the Trip of Awesome, see last posting). I had heard legend of such wonders as Robot Chicken, The Family Guy, and SeaLab, but never experienced them. Now, I feel like my life has just begun. Below are links to two favorites...

This one embodies all that is awesome.
Voltron Gets Served

This is now how I introduce myself to the ladies.
I'm the Juggernaut, Bitch!!

I didn't think it was right to keep such light under a basket (i think that's a biblical reference).

The Trip of Awesome

The Trip of Awesome. We should all three be dead. However, as you well know, All-Star Perfectos always triumph. Here's a recap of the awesomeness. The brevity does not do it justice, but i know your attention spans are short.

On the flight to Phoenix the captain comes over the intercom to say, “Sorry folks, but there's thunderstorms over Phoenix and we can't land. This is about as common as snow in hell. We'll circle until it clears.” We circled in turbulence for so long I was praying we would run out of fuel and die, just to make it stop. Four people threw up. This was a precursor to our near future.

Finally I landed, met OJ, and retrieved Aaron. We all crashed at OJ's to prepare to enter the desert. Now, who in their right mind enters the desert in June? Madness.

Fortunately, the desert we entered was at about 6000 ft above sea level. However, it certainly wasn't a rain forest. So we stopped at the ranger station to inquire about water sources. Here we met Ranger Ho-Bag. (I will refer to her as this to protect her identity.) We should have known by her pink nail polish that she had never stepped out of the AC, let alone been on the Highline trail. She gave us lots of information that would later turn out to be completely false and cause us to swear by the Sun-God Mogdollah to kill her first-born.

We then earned our “Good Backpacker” merit badges by wisely caching water at strategic points along the trail. This was tricky since none of the spots/roads pointed out by Ranger Ho-Bag existed. However, after several miles, sweating and cursing, we prevailed.

We had almost a full moon that night, so we actually began the trail with a night hike. This was extremely awesome and i recommend you all do this at some point. Yes, we were sober.

On day 2 we met Mogdollah the Sun-God. He is an angry and punishing god. To appease him we tried burning small sticks filled with tobacco. He was unimpressed. We actually came across a few streams with water in them. Great, except for the fact that this negated all our work of caching water based on recommendations by Ranger Ho-Bag. Thus we poured the extra water all over ourselves...and angered Mogdollah. OJ angered him most.

Day 3 proved especially brutal. A big reason was that the desert/forest we were in had recently been visited by Trogdor, the Burninator. If you don't know who this is, I pity you. Visit this site now.

Trogdor! The Burninator!

Now that you are cool, you know this means the forest was burned, offering no shade, and closely resembling Mordor. OJ began to fight a losing battle against sun and gravity. Notice in the pictures (coming up) that OJ is usually assuming the position of being bent over with hands on knees. (Not just in memorial to his prison days.) The only thing that saved us was that we found a shaded stream to hole up in until Mogdollah's power weakened somewhat. Once we hit the trail again, things got much worse for OJ. He would hike about a half mile, pause, throw up, and repeat. Ayo and I helped out by drinking whiskey and taking OJ's picture. We then camped at this awesome spring that appeared out of the hillside. OJ would have appreciated it if he was conscious or capable of standing. (We also saw some of the most spectacular views ever, see pics at end.)

The next morning (day 4) OJ had a pulse, so we pronounced him good to go. However, the new section of the trail we were supposed to take did not even exist. A big sarcastic thank you to Ranger Ho-Bag. We thus modified our route and headed south to exit the desert. Unfortunately, OJ went from bad to broken. We quickly realized we could not get both OJ and his pack to the next camp site. We had to leave one (OJ or his pack) behind. We took a vote, and despite the majority opinion, opted to leave the pack and get OJ out. Good idea, except OJ then went from broken to dead. We now had a man dehydrated and immobile, plus we were running low on water. The nearest water source was 3 miles away. Shit. Since Brandi (OJ's fiance) was picking us up, we couldn't kill him. We had to resuscitate him. Not easy. OJ crawled into the shade with a large ration of water whilst Ayo and I hiked to the nearest water source to get more. We then hiked back to find OJ in a somewhat more mobile state. We gave him more water and sent him in the right direction while we hiked BACK another mile to get the remaining pack.

On the way out we kept expecting to find OJ's lifeless body, but we never did. What did happen on the trail was that Aaron suddenly began shouting “Shit! Shit! Shit! Run! Shit! Run!” while he did an about face and ran into me, knocking me down into the desert bushes. He had come about 10 inches from stepping onto a 4 foot long, pissed off rattle snake. Unbeknownst to me, the procedure when you encounter this obstacle, is to shout profanity, run away, and throw your buddy down so that he dies, giving you time to escape. Aaron performed this procedure with excellence. We managed to escape however, and met OJ at the trail head.*

We managed to throw up the bat signal, and Brandi (who is awesome) came to pick us up, removing us from the desert. The rest of the trip consisted of air conditioning, Diamondbacks game, and Budweiser. Indeed, a Trip of Awesome.

Here's about 20,000 words-worth of pictures. Perhaps Ayo's and OJ's will be linked soon (that's a subtle hint to you two).

Pictures of Awesome

* I was not carrying my snake bite kit which was generously provided for me by Greg Hessee.

The Super Leaving Party

Curses! Our last themed party in Denver!

Saturday was the Super Leaving Party for myself and Jen before we head to the Philippines (we actually fly out on July 3). Of course, like any Ringo party, it involved costumes, name tags, and belligerence.

My favorite act of belligerence actually occurred a day before the party. Greg came over to help move a couch down outside to donate to the thrift store. It went like this.

Ringo: OK. Now lets carry it down the stairs.
Greg: Why don't we throw it off the balcony?
Ringo: Because I want to donate it.
Greg: The real Ringo would throw it off the balcony.
Ringo: .....
Greg: In fact, I'm ashamed you're not telling me to throw it off the balcony.

We threw it off the balcony. Actually, we flipped it into a tree, it flipped back towards us, ripped down three limbs, and landed (quite agile really) like a cat, on its feet. Unharmed. Unbelievably, the thrift store wouldn't take it. To quote Greg, “Those bastards wouldn't know a good tree couch if it hit them in the face.”

So on to the party. No worries, i have about 21,000 words worth of pictures to back up these tall tales.

Super Pictures!

I went as Peer Pressure. This consisted of a cape, mask, tights, name tag (of course) and the act of constantly pushing people into taking up vices. If folks participated in a vice, they received a sticker entitled “cool.” If not, they received “Not cool.” Harsh? Yes. But so is life.

Jen and Allison went as the White Out Twins, consisting of wings, high heels, wigs, sparkles, etc. If their superhero power was supposed to be “looking hot,” they really hit the nail on the head.

My roommate Zola* went as Pornita Aguilera. Her superpower was shock and horror (and looking hot) as people realized what accessories she was carrying around. Too bad she never made a Dungeon of Sin party.

My other roommate Andrew went as Flash Gordon. He saved every one of us. He gets special props because he looks like Flash Gordon. And Ricky Schroeder.

Jill and Chad went as Super Mexican Villains. They were wrongly pulled over by Denver PD on the way home and searched for weed.

Greg showed up as Iron Chef. Apparently his superpower was spanking people on the ass with a spatula. Because he did this a lot.

The DJ (yes there was a DJ) and 3 chicks i don't know showed up as a French wall. Their superpower was to not let people through the door. Strange, but awesome nonetheless.

Only a precursor to the awesomeness of Halloween in Manila. Wooooooooooo.

* I recently learned Zola spent years as a club dancer in Dallas.

The Worm

I can do the worm.

You’re probably thinking, “No shit Ringo. You own multiple capes, a bunny suit, and can make balloon animals. Of course you can do the worm.” But you’re wrong. I just learned how. The best part is that I have an understudy.

This all began when my school needed faculty with no shame to perform a comedic dance at halftime of some function. I volunteered. So did 3 others. They backed out when they learned I was leaving and could not be fired. I said, “%$#@ you guys. I’ll solo break dance, if I need to.” They said fine.

I can’t break dance. I can do the monster dance from Thriller, but that’s not break dancing. So I started where any self respecting white-guy-who-teaches-in-the-‘burbs would start. I practiced doing the worm. It’s not easy. It takes nerve. When your roommate comes upstairs and sees you writhing around on the ground, apparently dry humping a sleeping bag, you have to be able to hold your head up off the ground and say, “I’m practice the worm, dammit. Backoff.” Eventually, the training wheels came off.

But, much like Apollo Mission 18, the school break dancing performance was scrapped. I was fully trained with no audience. Thank God for the internet.

I now do the worm at every opportunity. At work, picnics, clubs, bar mitzvahs. My latest gig is tutoring. Below are two quick videos. You’ll see me, and my first student Kieran. He’s only two. I didn’t start until age 29. Look out Alphonso Ribiero*.

Young grasshopper learns

Show me paint the fence!

* Alphonso was the “break dancing Michael Jackson as a child” in an 80’s Pepsi commercial. He also starred with Ricky Schroeder (aka my roommate, Andrew) in Silver Spoons.

Why Chicks Don't Dig Me

Whilst in high school and college, I was never one to sit around wondering, “Why am I not getting laid?” I knew exactly why. Here it is.

I can’t help but drop some stats to reinforce the water twirling video. (This was the last post, see that first.) Ladies, hold your responses, I know you’re turned on.

The question was raised, “If the water is NOT swirling when you pull the plug in a basin, won’t the coriolis force make it twirl the same way every time?”

My conclusion. “No. It’s random.”

Over the course of several days, I (or my students) would fill the same tub seen in the video with water, and let it sit for a minimum of 6 hours (often more). Then we’d pull the plug from the completely still water. We did this 14 times. And saw some minor surprises.

Of those 14 times down the drain……
3 times it spun clockwise
2 times it spun counter-clockwise
7 TIMES IT SPUN FIRST ONE-WAY, THEN REVERSED AND WENT THE OTHER (I did not record which way it spun first)
1 time it had no spin at all.

I have no idea why it would spin two different directions on the way down (conservation of angular momentum does not seem to be the answer). But I am reassured that the coriolis force is NOT favoring it to spin one way over the other.

Ladies, feel free to leave your digits on the comments page. I know how hot that just was.

PS. Special thanks to my two physics classes for providing the labor of this great feat in science.

The Hideous Vortex

You all are wrong. I’ve finally proved it. I have video proof to show you on the internet. So it must be true.

Just about every crack-smoker I’ve talked to thinks that water twirls clockwise down the drain in the northern hemisphere, and counter-clockwise in the southern hemisphere. This is a lie. People claim the coriolis force is responsible for the twirling direction. More lies. I blame poor education, rap music, and “museums” on the equator (like in Quito, Ecuador) for perpetuating these fallacies

Below is a video, filmed in my classroom, that dispels the myth. It also proves that I really am an educator of America’s youth, which I know many of you have doubted for years. Yes, there are lots of flaws in the video. It’s dark, starts in mid-sentence, and is about 4 minutes longer than my average attention span.

But it also amazing, because who of us actually know what our friends do at work? For example, OJ says he’s an engineer, but what does that mean? Does he actually draw up airplanes, or just wear a striped train-driver hat and surf the internet? Gants says he makes video games. I picture this as meaning he puts suction cups all over his body (like that Golem actor in Lord of the Rings) and does fighting moves while being filmed. And Aaron? Holy shit, after hearing the jibber-jabber he describes, I think he drops acid all day then plays slot machines.

So here’s the video. Let me ruin the ending for you. Water goes both ways, regardless of hemisphere. Just like OJ’s mom. (That never gets old.)

Ringo dispels the lies!

Easter on the Slopes

I don’t know if I can really explain this one. But I guess it’s like the old saying goes, “If the bunny suit fits, wear it.”

Great quotes heard uttered by myself and others.

“Do you guys know where the bunny slopes are?”
“Can you play White Rabbit?”
“Wow. Those two are like rabbits.”
“Thanks Easter Bunny! Buck! Buck!”
“What the hell is that?”
“I’m not riding well today. I’m kinda timid. Like a little bunny.”
“…problem is that I’m like a rabbit, and that hill just has these big fucking claws.”
“Do you wear that everyday?”

I also got some free beer. Well worth it.

Spring Break 2006

Ugh! This blog has been reeking like stale. Apologies. I am now backlogged in awesomeness to tell you all about.

Let’s start with spring break. At the beginning of April, Jen and I set out across the desert (through bat country) to Vegas.

What a circus. We stayed at the Frontier, which is on the strip, but for old people. Bingo was rockin!!!! I got 3 phone numbers and what I thought was a lady’s room key, but she accidentally slipped me her Medicare card instead. Meanwhile, Jen was rolling around naked in all the dirty cash she won from slot machines. The Cirque de Soleil show did not disappoint. That is where Olympic gymnasts go to die. I also think that with no internatianal olympic committee testing them for drugs, they get really freaky. This makes for an awesome show.

We then saw all the splendor of the strip and I did my Christmas shopping / investing at the sports book. You can bet on anything! I can’t even remember every ridiculous thing I put cash on, but if the Royals win the World Series, the Tigers win the Big XII north, and Barry Bonds gets killed by a polar bear before the All-Star Break, then I will fly you all out to Manila to swim naked in my money bin (like in Duck Tales).

After that we drove to Hoover Dam. It is big. It makes electricity. I think that’s cool.

Then Jen and I set the cruise control, took a nap, and woke up at the Grand Canyon. Jen hadn’t camped much before, but was a hell of good stick collector. We went to bed early to see the majesty of the canyon the next day.

The next day it rained, and was so cloudy that most people thought it was a solar eclipse. Banging pots and pans together did not scare away the dragon covering the sun. Thus, we sadly realized we were not going to see the Grand Canyon. We took lots of pictures looking sad in front of a cliff and fog.

Undeterred we drove to Zion National Park. This is a giant canyon in the desert filled with an oasis. It was super boss despite un-boss weather. Jen was MVP since she got some RV people to feel sorry for us, and they gave us fire and pie. So after that, lots of hiking in rain and cold, but we did see the sun a bit.

The end.

Here's what you really want. I think this link below is worth about 42,000 words.

Ringo and Jen's Spring Break Pics

St. Pat's 2006

I’m pretty confidant that those of you reading this rarely sit back and think, “I wonder what Ringo is doing right now.” But if you did, last Friday night you would have thought, “What did Ringo do for St Pat’s?” The answer is obvious: I hosted a party (with my roommate Zola) involving costumes, gimmicks, lights, and nametags. If I didn’t, who else would?

Planning for this party started last year when myself and coworkers built a permanent wooden holder for the 300 pound ice-shot-luge. Planning accelerated when Zola lined up a friend with two turntables to DJ the party. My favorite part of the planning was the phone conversation when I was calling around trying to find a 300 pound ice block for the party. It went like this….

Me: Hey, I’m looking for a 300 lb ice block.
Guy at ice-place: We have that.
Me: Do you have the “Ultra Clear?”
Guy at ice-place: Sure.
Me: What we’re gonna do is carve a couple tracks into it for taking shots, and then…
Guy at ice-place: Is this Ringo?
Me: Wow. Yes it is.

I’ve never felt so famous.

The party went exceptionally well. Check out the pics (you picture whores).

Ringo's St. Pat's Pics

Zola's Pics

Special props go to…..
Zola for being the third floor hostess
Ryan-the-Canadian for carving a nice shamrock in the luge (instead of a maple leaf)
John for bringing PBR longnecks! (I doubted their existence)
Andrew for the use of the first floor in his absence (what a terrible idea)
Staci for use of the inflatable monkey and palm trees. (of course there was an inflatable monkey)
Luke for resurrecting everyone’s old school favorite: The Salmon.
St. Patrick for giving us a reason to do it.
Bradley University for beating Kansas.

Weapons of Mass Destruction Found!!!

Excellent news patriotic Americans!!!! The missing "Weapons of Mass Destruction" have been found in Kansas City! Unbeknownst to UN Inspectors in 2003(wrongly looking in Iraq), the weapons were cleverly being buried beneath Southwest Boulevard in Kansas City, near the Boulevard Brewery. This subterfuge was masterminded by the man seen in the picture, known only as "Dre" to his employers (suspected to be from the middle East).

This picture, taken in November of 2003, shows "Dre" or "TFG*" supervising the burial of an ICBM nuclear warhead purchased by Iraq from Kazikstan after the collapse of the Soviet Union. All parties, (Kazikstan, Iraq, and Dre) deny these allegations.

When asked about these allegations, "I'm just a red-blooded patriotic American like yourself," Dre responded, while smoking from a Hookah with his two friends Mohamet and Mohamet at the Jerusalem Cafe in Westport. Further investigations have discovered that Dre is also involved in organizations such as the "All Star Drinking Team" and "League of DARKNESS!!!!" Until these charges can be proved, we urge you to approach this man with caution.

* We don't know exactly what "TFG" stands for, but we speculate it means "That Fallujah Guy" (Fallujah is where Dre was born)

Mardi Gras in the Lou

This past weekend was Mardi Gras in the Lou! It was huge, and made even huger by the fact that Jen’s family has an ass-kicking bus that doubles as a float. We were IN the parade! Mardi Gras was not a spectator sport for us. Pics are below.

Before you get disappointed…….there are no pictures of topless women. Beer goes in the left hand; beads are thrown with the right. An amateur mathematician will figure out that leaves no hands for photos. Besides that, any float participant will tell you, being young and attractive is NOT a prerequisite for taking one’s shirt off. Thus, a clear photo of an attractive topless woman in the parade is a tough shot indeed. Plus, what kind of a blog do you think this is???

Mardi Pics

The pics just said about 29,000 words, so in short………I flew in, and first saw Schu, who is living a luxurious life of skiing and refinishing his nifty new home. We all then “decorated” the bus, and the best surprise ever happened when Dre materialized inside Jen’s home. Like David Copperfield.

Delicious Pancakes (Lance) and I threw a bunch of beads to a lot of drunken people. The bus/float was fantastic, and much like a transformer. Soulard was crowded. If you have breasts, and a 2nd story window, I recommend you try stopping traffic. Your power will be amazing.

Somehow, myself, Julie, Jen, Andrew and several others all made it back to the Swinehart household. This is where Jen’s dad really got into his element, and entertained the masses in an award winning performance.

I even got to see my younger brother the next day, although like most elusive Dingos, he does not show up on film.

Of Peyote and Presidents

Perhaps the most glorious weekend of snowboarding this season!

The awesome pics!

Friday revolved around Denver International Airport, which is a funny name for an airport that is so far out of town it should have the word “Kansas” in it. I dropped Jen off so she could see her brother in Chi-town. In return, I picked up John Litten (fellow drummer and former neighbor) who flew in from the Bay Area (LA face, but Oakland booty.)*

Being President’s Day weekend, the entire country was converging upon Colorado for skiing, much like when lemmings run in droves into the ocean. To avoid this rush, John and I awoke at -3 am, injected ourselves with Pete’s Coffee ®, and hit the road. (We did not share a needle, since John is an unclean, dirty whore). We were rewarded with an 80 minute trip (new record!!) and short lift lines at Breckenridge (for a little while). The I-70 Traffic Gods even allowed two friends, Staci and Tyler, to show up soon afterwards. We rode till exhaustion, and retired to a local pub for two of my favorite cocktails: Water for rehydration and beer for dehydration.

Now the two heroes of our story enter the scene. Andy and Katie from KC. They win the hero award because they had the shittiest weekend ever, and still remained in remarkably good spirits. They had awoken at -27 am, flown over Kansas, rented a car, drove through traffic, etc. After learning to ride for hours, and thus falling on her ass 759 times, Katie met us at the pub, and refused strong drink because she is a Buddhist Monk. Andy did not show up until hours later, because he was on the trail of tears with two snowboards walking to overflow parking, 25 miles away. He accepted strong drink.

We then capped the evening off at the Inn of the Arapahoe. The only notable thing about this hotel is that they put peyote on your pillow instead of a mint. I believe we saw fireworks while sitting in the hot-tub. At least, I think I saw fireworks. And a coyote talked to me. In Spanish.

Next day was even better! Free breakfast and a WALK to the lifts at Keystone spelled awesome. Staci decided to “pay-it-forward” and use her beginning snowboarding skills to help young grasshopper (Katie) whilst the rest of rode triple-XXX-double-black-diamonds (without moguls ). After we made the mountain our bitch, Tyler inspired me to attempt the terrain park with stories of his shattered knee and state-of-the-art peg-leg. I landed my first sizable jump, in which I’m pretty sure I went 12 feet into the air. And then saw that damn coyote.

We then retired for two very important covalent molecules, H2O and PBR. Several PBR’s later, our heroes, Andy and Katie finally show up at the pub, and so does Katie’s broken wrist. Que terrible! Katie’s remarkable training held strong as she once again refused strong drink AND the Vicadin she was carrying. It was with regret that our tragic heroes left to return to KC.

The weekend rounded out w/ John and I facing the perils of underage hot-tub sirens (beeswax in the ears man!), sub-zero winds at A-Basin, and a sub-zero house in Denver. I then returned to our starting point, Denver International Airport, traded in John for Jen, and all was back to normal.


* First person to name who that quote is by will get an entire blog entry devoted to them

The Thrilla in Manila

As of late July, all fan mail for myself and Jen will need to be sent to our new home in Manila, (the Philippines). Here’s how it went down.

We arrived late Thursday in the balmy paradise of Waterloo, Iowa (“dub-town”) via plane and shuttle. Early Friday morning, before the fair even started, we found the hotel rooms of two principals from International School of Manila
Ringo and Jen's New School!, International School of Manila
Instead of interviewing us together, they separated us, which allowed me to tell awesome stories about Jen, most notably the story of when she wrestled her friend Jenny in chocolate pudding. Needless to say, my interviewer was impressed. Jen and I were reunited to meet with the Manila superintendent, a friendly Brit known for inserting long uncomfortable silences after you answered his question.

The intense sequence of the job fair was the part where you go to 500 different tables to sign up for schools/countries that you are interested in, and decline invitations from schools/countries you are not interested in. As you can imagine, having the name of “Ringo” makes you a). An enigma (“I was wondering what this Ringo stuff was all about”—Principal of Thailand) or b). Popular (“With a name like that, how could you NOT want to teach in Mexico?” – staff of Mexico). We turned down several invitations and signed up for a few more interviews.

Kenya sounded exotic, but questioned my chemistry skills (haters). Shanghai had the perfect position for Jen but wanted me to teach 18 different classes and be the janitor also. Thailand’s principal had no job for me, but fell in love with Jen, tried to convince us to break up, and offered to name a wing of the school after her. Obviously, I was holding us back.

That evening we went to the candidate/recruiter social. As a reader, you’re probably thinking, “Sweet. This is the part where Ringo ends up going streaking or break dancing to a Lionel Richie song.” You will be disappointed to hear that nothing of the sort happened. I did however feel like a rock star when unfamiliar recruiters would come up and say “Ringo! The physics teacher! Let me talk to you about Saudi Arabia.” I was saved from this particular conversation when the Saudi recruiter asked about my wife. Upon learning that Jen and I will live in sin, he told me good luck with my eternal soul and that I should speak with Bangkok (it makes a hard man crumble).

Seeing that we had drinks in hand, the recruiters from Manila saw that the iron was hot, and called us over to their table. They offered us the positions. Knowing that it was only a matter of time before they Googled mine or Jen’s name (pictures are worth a 1000 lost jobs), we decided to sign quickly. Done. Woooooooooo!

So for Saturday and Sunday we were in Waterloo, Iowa with no car, no responsibility, and shit to do. We walked around the convention center some, but when people are still stressed out interviewing, and you just got hired in 12 hours, no one likes you. So we hung out in our hotel and told ourselves how awesome we were.

Awesome details of the job: I teach physics and Jen teaches middle school English. We get paid about the same as we do in Denver, EXCEPT…..
• We don’t pay taxes.
• The school pays our rent.
• We don’t need a car.
• Cost of living is crazy-go-nuts low (50 cents for a local beer).
• Our flight over and back is paid for.
• It is expected that you will employ a maid. Wow.

This is the time during the blog, when, if I were clever enough, the “Movin’ on up” song from The Jefferson’s would play. Please sing this in your head, and Gants will email me on how to make this happen in the future.

I think we leave in July sometime.

Snowboard for Sale

With any luck, my next blog post will be to inform you readers (the many thousands of you) what exotic place Jen and I will be moving to next fall. On Thursday (happy Groundhogs day in advance) we will go to the job fair in exciting Iowa and hopefully secure a foreign teaching job by Saturday.

What is Vegas saying about our chances? Most bookies are leaning towards Manila in the Philippines, although Nairobi (Kenya), Bangkok (Thailand), and Shanghai (China) have recently emerged as outside contenders. Curacao (small Caribbean island) has slipped in the rankings as of late, although it is still on the table. South Korea, which looked great in the pre-season, has since dropped completely out of contention. Myanmar and the Pacific island of Rota have suffered similar fates to S. Korea. Of course, there are over 150 schools at the job fair, and an unknown competitor could always emerge.

The only sure thing is that any place we move will have a warmer climate than Denver, and my snowboard will not be needed. (It appears that humans have cleverly located 90% of their population in tropical/subtropical locations). Thus, after this winter, the snowboard is available to the highest bidder. Be warned however that my mad-skills on the board are not for sale.

The Talent Show

Wow! My high school just had a talent show open to faculty and students. and.............I got second place! I did a solo routine, in which I wasn't sure how the crowd would react, but it turns out they loved it. The good news for you, although somewhat embarrasing for me, is that it was captured on video. You'll notice that my school has become much more diverse this year, and you may even recognize my principal emceeing the show. He has done some public speaking nationally.

video of Ringo in the talent show

As awesome as that was, wait till you see the winners.

First place winners

Casa Bonita

Casa Bonita. If you didn’t hear about it on South Park, you’re about to now.

Friday was my friend Allyson’s birthday. It was discovered that almost none of my friends, Allyson included, had ever been to Casa Bonita. If you live in Colorado for 6 years without ever going, you are shot, or deported to Kansas. So we all went. We also went because Casa Bonita is awesome. I’ll explain.

So will the pics. Which is all you really care about. You picture whores.

Casa Bonita Pics!

So as one drives west of downtown Denver on Colfax, you see more and more signs written in Espanol, and you think, “I bet I could get some good authentic Mexican food around here.” And then you see a giant pink tower in adobe with lights, fountains, and electric burros, and you think “maybe not.”

Jenny and I (Casa Bonita veterans) led our fearful friends through the winding Six-Flags type line to order our delectable Mexican cuisine. The choices were mind-boggling, but the cleverly constructed maze of railings gave us plenty of time to choose the perfect Mexican combo before the ride, or experience, began. Mere minutes after ordering, our meals came magically rolling out of an adobe window as if they were conjured out of thin air! We then carried our steaming trays into a truly magical land.

There are 3 stories of glory. All eyes are drawn towards the central stony waterfall, which falls 50 ft to a shimmering palm laden pool. The top of the waterfall is bedecked by a small stage for vaudeville style entertainment. The entire grotto/waterfall is cleverly constructed with multiple perches and vines for the skilled cliff divers to dangerously plunge from into the watery depths. Amazing! Yet there is so much more to see.

When we entered the wonderland, I had to physically pull Jen away from the sweet sounds of the live Mariachi band because of the enticing aromas coming from my meal. As we dined, it was touching to see tears of nostalgia welling up in Jill’s eyes as she remembered the time her husband Chad proposed to her just two tables away from where we sat. And now their toddler son, Kieran was wide-eyed and captivated by the myriad of sights, sounds, and smells.

We ate quickly so we could show the youngster the stage show. A bold explorer had captured a savage native near the waterfall and was showing the prize off to a beautiful damsel. Dramatically the fiendish savage escaped! We held our breath as he ran right past our table! Fortunately, the brave explorer chased the savage off the third floor stage into the chilly pool below. Bravo!

With the addition of my roommates Andrew and Zola, we felt brave enough to explore Black Bart’s Cave. It was dark and treacherous, with booby-traps, dragons, and glowing crystals. Zola trembled with fear, but the bravery of young Kieran steadied our hearts and we pressed on. Our spirits lightened as we exited, for there at the end of the cave was a puppet show! And after the puppet show, a piñata breaking! Could it get any better?

Yes! For desert, we played ski-ball, and observed countless youngsters get their first taste of the world of gambling. How the tickets flowed! We played with inspiration, knowing we played not for ourselves but for the birthday girl, Allyson. And our efforts did not go unrewarded. The thousands of tickets we won were then exchanged for Allyson’s Casa Bonita Coasters and Pirate Eye-Patches for the ladies! Yarrrrggghhhhh!! Excellent booty! And then, the skill of the lovely ladies was then noticed, as they were all made proud members of the Casa Bonita Diving Team, and given T-shirts to show off there new team status.

The diving team then continued to the pubs, and then we all sledded down the stairs. The end.

By the Power of Gayskull!

Wow, wow, wow. Please see this site if you would like to hear Prince Adam talk about his friend "Cringer-pants". He-Man even sings, so does Skeletor. (cut and paste this link)

http://homepage.mac.com/lennier/SA/fsp_101.mov

Then I was told that He-Man's singing career briefly had an off broadway performance. Read about that here! (you have to cut and paste again)

http://www.he-man.org/site_sects/special_features/editorials/facetoface.shtml


Special thanks to Jim and Greg for finding these gems

How to Be Popular

For years I wondered how I could become more popular. I read self-help books, I built a crazy-go-nuts party deck, I even went to KC bars with Andre (he seemed very popular, even almost ran for Congress). But nothing worked. Then I figured out the secret, which I will share with you now.

I moved someplace awesome. Living in Colorado has caused my popularity to soar off the charts. In the one and a half years since I’ve lived here, I’ve received more visits than OJ’s mom. I’ve been visited by Ayo, Gants, OJ, OJ’s mom, both my brothers and one sister-in-law, Kevin, Casey, Pickles, Marika, John (of the Litten variety), Avanti, Lance (Delicious Pancakes), Nick, Knopps, and others who hate me now because I forgot to drop their name.

Now I make no false claims about their reasons for visiting. In fact, I’m pretty sure that if I lived in Detroit, you all would probably not even be reading this right now, because you would not even be my friend. Unless I lived in 8 mile. And was a rapper.

I’m certainly taking this popularity idea into account whilst searching for jobs overseas. For example, there’s a school on the paradise-like Caribbean Island of Curacao that wants me to teach Beginning Biology, Animal Husbandry, and Creationism to political prisoners. This would obviously be a less-than-ideal job, but think how much you all would like me if I lived there.

Presently, I’m so popular that in just 48 short the Northern Contingency of the All-Star Drinking Team will be arriving in Denver, and then heading to altitude for snowboarding and skiing mayhem. So look for an awesome post weekend blog posting, and then play the fun game of cross-checking the blogs of myself, Ayo, and Gants to see who’s making shit up.

All Star Perfecto in an International Post?

Greetings all,
Whilst this entry bears no belligerence, clever antics, or amusing pics, it hopefully makes up for that by containing actual information, that most of my friends find interesting. At least people ask me about it frequently, so I thought it would be blog-worthy.

There is a good probability that after this school year, myself and Jen will be moving overseas to teach for at least a couple of years. I don’t know where yet, but I’m hoping for Southeast Asia or southern Africa.

Here’s how the deal works. There are lots of private American style schools (not Department of Defense schools) around the world that employ a lot of International teachers. The schools are taught in English, so I’d be able to continue teaching physics and chemistry. They offer two-year contracts and often provide housing, move you out there, provide benefits, etc. The students are often wealthy; some are US citizens, some are European, and some are from the host country.

How do I find such an awesome gig? There’s a big-ass job fair at the University of Northern Iowa (a metropolis known for being a hub of international culture) in early February with over a hundred schools attending. The schools usually interview and hire within that weekend. Jen and I will interview as a team, which means they’ll need to have jobs for both of us. This limits us a little, but I think we’ll still find something pretty boss.

I have so far talked or e-mailed with schools in the Philippines, South Korea, Marianna Islands, Kuwait City, and Vietnam that seem to have jobs for us. I’m definitely avoiding crazy-Christian schools and not overly hyped about the mid-east, but pretty much open to anyplace else.

So if all goes well, look for an excited blog entry in February about my new overseas job and future home.

I promise belligerence and antics in the next entry.

He-Man vs. Skeletor

This is a picture of my He-Man vs. Skeletor t-shirt. It is probably the best gift I have ever received and probably ever will receive. Jen gets MVP award for giving it to me.

I think I know why He-Man is Master of the Universe. It is because he has muscles that normal mortals don’t even have. I mean look at the freaking picture. He doesn’t even have a knee cap. He has a “knee muscle”. For the record, even Skeletor could kick the ass of Mr. Universe.

Besides Hulk Hogan, I think He-Man is the most bad-ass character from my childhood. I wish those two had been a tag-team.

I could have on a $2000 Armani suit, and I would not get half the compliments I get from wearing that t-shirt around town. People look at my chest, and they automatically like me. Now I know why females with great breasts are always so happy.

Ringo's Resolution for 2006

If you don't care to read, or can't read, just go right to the pics.
share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AcMWLVy3bN2Id

My new year's resolution is more posts for 2006. I know this seems as likely as Gants running for office on the Republican ticket, but i'm saying there's a chance.

New Year's was awesome. Here's how it broke down.

My Disney chum Nick and our Canuk friend Dave rolled into Denver. A sizable group decided (over several PBR's) that to hell with amatuer night New Year's at the bars. We would bring the people to us. The people also decided that we needed to rent a karaoke machine.* We celebrated how smart we were by continuuing to booze in the hottub afterwards. (yes, i own a working hottub, i have huge balls).

I slept 3 hours, then went snowboarding, because the powder told me to. it was glorious. I also had more PBR. Meanwhile, Jen, the party MVP, picked up said karaoke machine. She also bought me a He-Man vs. Skeletor t-shirt, which is the greatest shirt on earth.

We planned on about 15 people. Estimates put the actual number closer to 30. My buddy Kevin even showed up from Columbia (hell of a commute). I started the karaoke ball rolling with a terrible rendition of Livin La Vida Loca. I mean it was really bad.

the ladies continued with excellent disco hits. Kevin then actually sang something that sounded good, which is why we hate him. Then we got into the reindeer juice and things got really interesting.

Midnight came and Andre 3000 champagne was consumed followed by lots of making out in public. My favorite part was when people started sledding down the stairs on their bellies. No worries because they did so whilst wearing my snowboard helmet and goggles. special props to P-flow for doing this with an open container. the Powder nymphs told me and kevin to ride a therma-rest pad down the stairs, double, ala Home Alone. This might have worked if my stairs didn't have a 90 degree turn. Last time i listen to those damn Powder nymphs.

Of course the evening then ended in the hottub. A fitting new-years, several bruises, and a reduced chance of me actually getting my deposit back on my house.

Ringo



* this evening did involve public nudity, which i personally have no record of, but Nick may