Tuesday, July 29, 2008

French Intermission

Quebec

So Toronto blew our feeble minds into the most delicious Tapioca Pudding any Grandmother could ever make. I can't even begin to describe with words on it's velocity and grandeur. It was if Rick Moranis himself decided it was time to make a sequel to his greatest legacy, and shrunk me down. I felt so small and unimportant in this massive city. But it felt good. Not saying I was ever important or big. I'm pretty sure if a bus wasn't legally obligated to pull over and wait for police, it'd run me over because it feels sorry for me. I've always hated Buses. Metal monsters.

So. Then We left Toronto and Ventured into Quebec. Surprisingly enough, they didn;t bother assimilating us to their language or culture. As soon as we crossed the border to our new Provincial Weekday home, Everything went to French. It was awesome. Landing in Montreal at 12 am we were stunned. This did not feel like Canada.
The streets are cobblestone. The roads constantly narrow in and widen out. Alley ways appear as quickly as lightning bugs, and when you look to see it, they disapear. Buildings were erected in 1800s and everyone is speaking french. And it's sexy. Going into a bar at 1 am, nervous as a rat in a blender. Everyone in the bar is speaking French, and we are shitty American kids from California who's only frabric of a second language consists of the most important of spanish words. Like Bano, Cerveca, and Donde Esta El Donkey Show? Talking to the bartender, she smiled and spoke in french. We informed her we suck and don't know what the fuck she's saying, and her smile never breakens. Her cute accent is thick and begins to tell us all about Montreal and answers our questions as fast as we throw them. Even to the point where buzzed Canadians wanted more booze to kill the pain, and they couldn't get her attention. This was basically and IS basically the treatment we get here.

I do wish we knew what the hell the streets signs mean. Surprisingly enough French is similiar to Spanish so I can make out a few words, but god help me if I will translate military time. I'm lazy enough as it is. I don't need a homework assignment. Our Hostel is insane, though. I will admit. Gipsy-esque Caravans surround the eating table outside, and hold two beds. The insides look like something out of a 19th century carnival caravan. But we are poor and are sleeping inside.




But the inside is littered with cobblestone walls that look like a bootleg cellar, and crudely erected wooden monstrosities also known as bunk beds. The beds are the finest of air mattresses, filled with what we assume, the finest of Canadian hot breath. It is amazing, though. Everyone is younger, and parties and wants to party. 20+ people fill these double decker bed dorms and I pulled the lame straw and was given the choice to share a bed with Erick or Tice. I would rather die than share a bed with either of those smelly assholes and chose to sleep under the bottom bunk. I have about two feet of space above me, but am given a comfortable amount of room around me. I did sleep soundly, though I hit my head on the bottom of the bed loud enough to wake up my comrades and a few other travelers. I assume the nice Tokyo man, Shatoro. I will admit. . . . Montreal. You amaze me in the greatest ways possible.


Bless you.

-Erich WK!!
Nighttimer/Partycrasher.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Captains Log: Sixth Entry

Man. Oh Man. Oh Man. Oh man.

Leaving Minnesota (god bless, them midwesterners) we traveled Eastward and reached Wisconsin. I won't lie. Neither will Tice. And Neither will Erick. We had terrible expectations of Wisconsin. You hear the word Wisconsin and for some reason you get Diahrrea and terrible head colds. No offense to you Wisconsinites, but when have we seen an episode of "Guy's Gone Wild! WISCONSIN EDITION".

But hell, man. We pulled up in our Hostel in Madison. . . walked into our room and smelled the sweet scent of sweat, humidity, and a chinese kitchen. And realized. "All is well" Walking into town blew our minds. What an entertainingly cute and awesome college town. Indie shops, Veg shops, non corporate stores and plenty of strapping college students who have probably just done something completely regretful the night before. Don't worry kids, you will be on youtube the next morning. Or if you're very lucky. Porntube. In short. Madison > Suck.

Driving eastward even more, we reached Chicago. Humidity seemed to be the new theme of our adventures. Being kids from a desert, like San Diego. . . Humidity was somewhat of a new concept. We heard stories in the bible about this weather fenom., but for christ's sake. Really? It can be -20 degrees outside. But with 100% humidity, it's 90+. whoever invented the weather should be fired for being drunk on the job. But I will tell you, and we all will. Chicago is a hell of a town. We rode the subway (my first time) and went to bars that don't suck (my first time, no thanks to you Pacific Beach, you cheap date of a bastard.) And we ate a real Chicago Deep Dish Pizza Pie at Gino's East. Hats off to you, Chicago. . . for cuddling with us after sex, instead of just leaving us to feel like whores. And also, thanks to you Ashley and Courtney (Erick's Cousins) for being awesome White Girls and showing us around town.

Currently we are in Toronto Canada, the biggest city of my life. And I'm typing this on an eleven year old's computer. . . so I don't feel right ripping pictures on it. I was on a Boy's Gone Wild website ready to download some ridiculous pictures to post them on this blog. . . and thought to myself. "Man, this aint right. . . there's kids behind me sleeping". And no stupid Michael Jackson jokes from the said comment. You guys are jerks enough to me as it is.


-Erich Shaun Beckmann, speaking for Matice, and Erick L.

P.S. <3Amelia Mattis<3

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Super Three Kid Dynamites! (King of Minneapolis Part III & IV)



So. The end of our last three Space Cadet's adventures, they were fighting against an seemingly endless army of Cowboys, cattle, and Teenagers stuck in the fashions of 2002. Flying non stop (except to see stupid road side attractions and truck stops) they maneuvered through the unimpressive Mount Rushmore. The expensive Crazy Horse, and really awesome Wind Cave. IT PRODUCES REAL WIND. Well. Our heros didn't enter said cave, It was also expensive. So they pondered what could behind the metal gate protecting the cave and her secrets. Giant Bats? Giant Centipedes? Giant booby traps? Maybe an Ice Golem that you must destroy in order to stop the mass of cold air it produces. And the more they hit it, the faster it flashes red until it explodes. They only could speculate.
So instead, our three amigos looked inside a hole. It was dirty. That was about it.




Stage two in the Midwest level lead them to So many road side attractions you could fall asleep while listening to the stories. So. . . prepare to take a bunch of Jolt!
This is a theme park. Tice, Erich, and Erick thought it sucked. They did enjoy the recreation of the Flintstones, Hats, though.





Los Tres Ninos drove many miles and saw many many signs for something Called "Wall Drug" BY SHIT! They screamed! There is are drugs that need to be eviscerated. For Drugs are not Straight Edge. They followed the Badambillion signs they saw for the effin place and turned off in a town called Wall. Sadly it wasn't a giant Drug/Trash monster spewing HIV needles and farting Marijuana smoke. It was in fact a giant Drug Store. Actually, the biggest drug store any man has ever created. Not even a drug store, more of a drug store theme park. With singing Cowboys, useless crap, singing gorillas, Jackelopes, and Dinosaurs that roar a ton.
















Stage Three! THE CORN PALACE.Stage Zero! The Corn Palace in the 20s!

After the road side adventures They finally reached level Three. MINNESOTA!!!!! To them, this was more than just more god damn farm land. This was their first major city in weeks. They finally got to hang out with kids as hip and in the know of what Degrassi is. Minneapolis blew their minds. Erich's favorite city so far. Tice loved it. Erick loved it. They also got to crash in the house of a family they never met before.

They have 60000 points and now are up to Eight lives. Where will it take them? Mall of America, perhaps? Milkwaukee next. . .then maybe followed by Level Five. . .The Wind City?

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Chapter 4: Trucker's tans, and seatbelt rashes.

That picture was taken in Rapid City, South Dakota. It confused all of us to an entire degree. The 27% on my mac is telling me I need to rush this rant.

So we couldn't make it to Spokane. We got incredibly tired and spent a night at the most overpriced camping chain ever, K.O.A. $30 to sleep on dead grass next to an overpass.

And the odd amount of feral cats was making all three of us nervous. . . -_-

The next stop was Yellowstone. We decided to become true road cowboys and go for the Hail Mary. That meant 12 Hours to Yellowstone national Park. So we did it. And we go there pretty late at night. So late that there was no one at the entrance to make us pay their insane fee of $25. So we drove and ended up realizing every camping spot was full. Eff camping spots all of us exclaimed! We shall sleep outside. Like Roosevelt Did when he founed this awesome place. So we found a pic-a-nic area away from the road and parked our cars. I immediately became a little girl and realized Bears live in yellowstone and will eat my tasty mexican ass. So I decided to sleep in the car. My companions decided to rough it and sleep outside. But a symphony of unidentifiable noises was heard all night long. The sound of a rabbit farting was the last straw and they crammed their butts into the car and I had the worst night's sleep yet. Whatever, yellowstone was beautiful.

We are in Rapid City, South Dakota right now and there isn't much to say. . . except for these pictures. Enjoy.



ps. This is a Drive thru coffee shop where girls serve creepy old truckers Latte's in bikinis.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Ready. . . Set. . . Noooooo!!

Diary: Day 5-7
So us three dudes left Portland. Erick was trashed from continually winning games in beer pong and corners, and was making life Difficult by seeming very unpleasant about having to wake up at 6 in the morning to catch the 12:40 Ferry ride from Port Angeles, Washington to Victoria in Vancouver Island. Which is in Canada, eh? And I tell you what. . I have never seen so many bridges in my life. There are rivers all through Oregon and Washington, with tons of bridges scattered. I loved it. The only bridge San Diego has is Coronodo, and that bridge scares the hell out of my everytime I go over it. We got this picture in Washington.

So we jump on a ferry, third to last car that was able to get on it. And that's Tice. He is more excited than a hummingbird. Go Tice, Go. So two hours later we reached Canada. And hell yea they spotted us California boys as trouble. The pulled us to the side, made me give up my Mace that is supposed to protect me from all the wood trolls I will be camping next to. Now they completely stripped searched the car took out every bag, looked at every dirty piece of underwear and then we realized something.

"Wait. . . .did Scotty forget his bag in our car??" Now Scotty. He stayed behind in Portland and smokes a lot. And not cigarettes. We wish it was cigarattes. Our hearts started pounding incontrollobly. Thoughts ran through our heads. . "Scotty was very drunk last night. . but did he remember to take the bag out of his car?? Cause we didn't". "Wait, is this stuff legal here?" "Are Canadian jails like summercamp at a colonoscopy camp??" Every second was painful. Our mouths dried. I'm pretty sure I became the proud owner of a couple dozen grey hairs. And at the very end, the only thing the cops found was my second I.D incase I lost my first one. They seemed confused on why I had two and decided to intensly question that. But hell. It seemed Scotty was cognent enough to take his bag. Bullet dodge. But hell! We were in Vancouver Island. So many trees, so many nice people, and Ketchup Chips.

Now the second day we were hear, my step mother, (who's house we were crashing in) ran in screaming, "FIRE!!!!!!" I thought. Oh heck yes. I love fires. But she clocked me and made me realize this wasn't the kind of fire smores are made in. These are the kind of fires where woodland creatures run away screaming "WTF!!" I now have a fond respect for firefighters, especially the San Diegan kind. Because I was in the middle of that hellish blaze with quite possibly the cheapest COSTCO hose with water pressure that rivals the squirt guns from Zombie Ate my Neighbors. (The worst $.99 squirt guns evar). So inside the blaze I hosed off my singed legs and hot feet to keep the rubber from melting. By the times trees started collapsing, I realized that infact American Apparell did not make fireproof t-shirts. Infact I think they were made of gasoline and christmas trees. But behold, the Canadian all Volunteer fire brigade choke held that fire until it's tears distuingished itself. It was pretty awesome.





Next stop. . . Spokane? Ugh.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Oh! regon!

Day Three!



Bakersfield is the worst shit in the world. And by far the most br00tal drive we had to go through. Everything was browner and flatter than the world's largest Denny's pancake. Seven awful hours we smelled the perfume of Forest Punks and weed an realized we have reached day 1. Santa Cruz. We occupied ourselves with the friendships of high school companions and roller coasters. Well. Not me. Because I am afraid of anything giant and mechanical that roars loud mechanical growls at me. It brings back flashbacks of the terrible Robot Wars. Luckily we defeated our sentient rulers back to working for our bidding.





After all that we made our destination to Crescent City. The Redwood forest is prettier than I imagined. I could talk about how awesome trees are for the next hour . . . or I can show you this picture and let it explain it all for me.
So we camped and slept . . 4 men in this tent.

Also. We got to that site around 1 am, and me being a city boy, didn't realize that there were no Wood Sprites that produce massive amounts of light even at night. Damn you Final Fantasy games. But, as of now we are in Portland, sleeping on couches and occupying their televisions to watch our Conan O'brian. Tomorrow we leave for three days into Vancouver Island.

Oh! Apparently it's illegal for anyone to pump their own gas here, the gas attendant has to do it for you. I never felt more like a tourist until I stopped my car in the shell station and some guy comes to my car and asks what I need. I was prepared to Mace him with my pepper spray shouting "I NEED AN ADULT!" when I put two and three together. "Unleaded" I said. "Unleaded will be fine.


p.s. We are interviewing Andrew WK in his Manhattan home. . and the Cast of Evil Dead: The Musical in Toronto. God yes.
p.p.s. I love this boy.

Monday, July 7, 2008

When there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.

Diary: Day 0

In less than 24 hours I will start the beginning of an adventure that will rival any sequel to Back to the Future. I will meet a cast of wily characters and dastardly villains. I may even rescue a damsel or two. But I will probably end up with a sexual harassment suit.




Around 10 am, on Tuesday. . the 8th. I will be starting my 45 day road trip. I have never been so incredibly frightened or so incredibly excited. I will be in a blue Toyota Yaris with two other smelly dudes, dumpstering food, sleeping in tents, and singing shitty ska songs on an acoustic guitar to kids from around the United States.




With our $600 grant and video camera from www. roadtripnation. com I will be documenting every aspect of the trip. From high fiving to driving, to the massive amount of skinny dipping we will be pulling off. North Dakota, prepare to see how pathetic a California penis can be.



The black line is our route.





We still need a place to sleep in New York, New Orleans, Austin, Atlanta and a few other places. Pleaaase get back to me if you can help.






Also. I love you all. And if I die, I never really hated any of you. Except you, Megan Bowden. I've always hated you. Also, Shauna. If I die. . you can have all my toys.






-Erich WK!!
858 752 1445 (text me)


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I am a student at the Art Institute of San Diego, CA. I play in bands that play as fast as possible, and ride bikes as fast as possible.