Mrs. Flinger: Blog

Did you know that if you look on a map, “Holland” isn’t there? NO. What’s this bullshit about me going to “Holland” then? Well, apparently I’m in The Netherlands which is just sort of in the middle of all the peace-keeping, fence-sitting, pot-smoking countries. And BYGOD I love it here.

I’m here on business which means I’m here representing Engine Hosting who, along with my new friend WHOOOOOZE, sponsored my trip here so that I could speak at the EECI2009 Conference.  I will not only buy them a beer but also possibly shout out their company names in the streets of Holland, I mean, The Netherlands whilst smoking pot and holding the hands of gay and lesbians.

Bygod I love it here.

And what’s this buillshit about everyone speaking English in Holland, I mean, The Netherlands? Because the ONE PERSON I asked, “Did she say Leiden? Leiden? Is this LEIDEN?” He shook his head no, so I stayed on the train, only to find out HAHA SUCKER, that WAS Leiden and he was saying, “NO, I have no idea what you American Lady Is Saying. LEIDEN LEIDEN. WTF”

So I got on another train heading, from platform six so naturally, BACK to Leiden. Except HAHA NO. The ticket man said, “Leiden? [words I don’t understand that may have included some mocking, possibly cussing me out and maybe using the C word in Dutch] No. AIRPORT.” And so I was back at the Airport.

That I understood. ZOOOM PLANES ZOOOOOM.

So I sheeplishly told the ticket man at the train station I REALLY needed to get to LEIDEN, if that was, in fact, a place in The Netherlands, or does it mean something else like Constantinople.

He told me “NINE FIFTY NINE TRAIN” so I purchased my THIRD ticket to Leiden and got on the NINE FIFTY NINE train. Where I met Frank.

Frank is a flamingly lovely gay black man from New York living in The Netherlands with his Husband. We chatted about the USA, Holland, I mean The Netherlands, and being married. I love Frank. Frank told me all about Leiden and where I needed to go in order to possibly shower and to not take a nap because you’ll never sleep again. Time change and all that.

And when I finally arrived at my hotel, I have Frank, my flaming gay black friend, to thank. Who speaks English. Because the rest of these fuckers are confusing as hell.

But BYGOD I love it here.

And LOOK! A real live motherfucking WINDMILL right outside my window, bitches!

bygod I love it here.

(This post is brought to you by the fact that I’ve been up nearly 24 hours straight, had 4 beers about 10 hours ago, sucked in recirculated airplane air and did I mention the trains? The three trains? And the not sleeping?)

(Oh, and I forgot to tell you that I did, in fact, see the sun come up over Amsterdam and it was beautiful. I bet a lot like what people see when they’re smoking pot.)

(Which, I’m guessing, is the hue over the city there. They don’t have smog here, what with all the bicycles and trains, but they do have the pot-fog.)

(Also, I’ve never, not once in my ENTIRE LIFE, smoked a joint. Sucked a dooby. Puffed a roll. NEVER. Not once.)

(I’m not saying I WOULDN’T should it be LEGAL.)

(Bygod I love it here.)

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