Travel Tuesday: I pooped in Hitler's Toilet

So...It was not exactly Hitler's toilet, in fact, if you know your history, you'll know that Hitler hated Eagle's Nest it was situated so high on the mountain. Nice try on the birthday gift assholes. And the home that he did have close to Eagle's Nest was uber bombed by the Allies...but I digress. This is about poop, my poop, disgusting poop.

If you don't like poop, stop reading. Because this is about me pooping. I am giving you so many fucking warnings here.

So I was in Germany for my honeymoon this past October. It wasn't my first time in what I consider "God's land" but I was on my honeymoon and dead set and making a bunch of memories in some awesome places, those places being Hitler's summer retreat we all know as Eagle's Nest. Its the one place that remained semi intact after the war, and the looting of Allies. Totally justified, it is the spoils of war, but sad for some of us historians. But still, the place is pretty fucking cool.

Our nights were filled with beer and debauchery as we explored the rebuilt streets of Munich. We were, after all, in the land of beautiful beer, and we'd managed to make friends with an Iraqi refugee bartender who HOOKED IT UP. He also felt it pertinent to inform us that he comes from the same town as ISIS. We didn't know how to take that information, but he gave us the biggest smile as he complimented us on our bilingual skills of Spanish, English, and drunk German.

Here's the thing....I have IBS. And drinking beer makes me super sick. It's so fucking good, but in the last three years, I have switched to wine, or tequila. It's a beer lovers nightmare, because Gluten free beer is the biggest bullshit known to man. And I don't even think its the Gluten, I think its that God knows that I enjoy something so amazing, so he's punishing me for my vices. I know it is only a matter of time before I start violently reacting to Tequila. So I cut back. But this was my honeymoon, and cutting back is for bitches. I was going to drink my God-smiting beer in Germany, just like a German, with my Mexican husband and Iraqi best friend for the night. I did not care. I got the heaviest, most flavorful beer, and I savored the fucker till the last drop. Then we had more beers, then we stumbled to next beer haus and drank the shit out of their beer. I metaphorically flipped off the heavens with every drop that danced on my lips. It was mine for the taking.

It all seemed fine. I was on top of the world. I had even managed to confidently walk in to the one of a million sex shops and not feel like a perverted whore. I was good.

We woke the next morning panicked. We had slept through the alarm, and the bus was leaving to Eagle's Nest in 40 minutes. Showers were rushed and breakfast was optional. This was the last tour to Eagle's Nest before it closed for the winter and I was NOT going to miss this opportunity. I was determined and brazen enough to say a "fuck you" to the U-Bahn ticket machine and get on the fucking train without paying. I was so bad ass. Hell, we even made it on the bus. My partner in adventure, affectionately called husband, was sooooo hungover. and the ride up the mountain wound horribly. He vomited, a lot. I was concerned, but a little vomit was not going to stop this from being a supreme trip. He's miserable, and I am cold. But we were there.

We arrived to Eagle's Nest. It was beautiful. A waltz through a tunnel, with a quick hop in the elevator and bam, you were there. The dining hall, deck with the view of the mountain, the mantle where the american troops carved their names...it was mine for the experience. this was the place created as a gift for Herr Hitler's 50th birthday.This place, along with the parking lot in Berlin over Hitler's bunker, was hallowed ground for WWII history buffs, and I was standing in it.

I'm basking in the glory of history when I felt the rumble, a tap dance upon my intestines. And then a flash mob dance, and then wave. It was shit that I felt pummeling through my innards and making its way to my rectum. Without hesitation, I lean in to husband's ear and lovingly whisper "I'm going to poop". The look of panic is shared between our gazes as we briskly make our way to the bathrooms. A small line threatens my dignity, and my pants, but my Jillian Michael squats (and premature kegel exercised) are saving me from total explosion. The stall opens and without hesitation, I push myself in to the stall, dropping a pre-unbuttoned pair of jeans and decimating Hitler's summer retreat toilet. It was the shit to end all shits. And it was awful. I was sweating as the poison raced out of my ass and in to the toilet. My intestines were re-positioning themselves. My nostrils were burning while my eyes were stinging as the smell of my crap filled the bathroom.

It was at this time that I realized that I was completely alone in the bathroom. No sooner had I made that realization, did I see that the toilet paper was completely out. Normally in this kind of an emergency, I would use the toilet seat liners to clean up as much as possible until I could safely pull up the trousers and waddle over to the next stall. But in my quest to expel in a toilet and not on my pants, I had failed to check the liners as well. And guess the fuck what, I had no toilet paper liners. But wait! I could always text my husband to ask a woman to come in and help his wife. But you have to remember, I am in the fucking mountains. I had no reception. I could not send a fucking text. Nothing. And my ass dripping in shit. Literally dripping. Had I attempted to pick up my chonis, they would have been covered in shit. Shit, I tell you! And there was no guarantee that the shit would be contained to my chonis. The devastation that was my butt was enormous. The shit could have been anywhere if I stood up.

So I sat there, waiting for a woman to pee. It's the one fucking time women don't have to pee desperately. So I waited a long fucking time until an Asian tourist took pity on me and understood that I was asking for toilet paper. She laughed at me (if it wasn't for the toilet paper I would have killed her. JK...sort of).

"I was getting nervous" my husband exclaimed 20 minutes after I had first walked in to the bathroom. "Yeah, there was no fucking toilet paper and I had to wait for some asshole to walk back in to the bathroom". He lovingly laughed as described the ordeal. At least I can say I shit in Hitler's toilet.

America, the beautiful Nazi State

Recently famed Neurosurgeon Ben Carson, a conservative, god fearing Republican spoke out against tyrannized America, equating the nation to Nazi Germany. That is correct...the Nazi Germany that occupied Sudetenlands in the name of racial purity, and whose ovens still burn in to silver screens and texts of history. Now normally, I am appalled by such verbal excrement. Phrases such as "I mean, [we are] very much like Nazi Germany. And I know you’re not supposed to say ‘Nazi Germany,’ but I don’t care about political correctness.(: http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2014/mar/12/ben-carson-americas-now-very-much-nazi-germany/#ixzz2vu2dqf32) typically boil my history loving blood. But at this moment, I feel it is best to take Dr. Carson's words, and use them as a challenge. 

Here are my top five reasons why Dr. Carson is so fucking wrong...and ultimately a lame cock:

1. Ben Carson went on a national news media and criticized his country..TO MILLIONS OF VIEWERS! Now normally, under Nazi Germany at least, a man/woman critical of the government would have lived in fear of being thrown into a "work camp". Many of the resistance fighters printed and distributed anti-Nazi propaganda in secret, covert and in FUCKING FEAR. The fact that Lord Media Moron openly proclaimed the notion tells me a couple of things - A) Homeboy does not actually believe that the United States is anything like the Nazi Germany; and/or B) Homeboy aint afraid of shit. 

2. Despite the many times states have attempted to discriminate against the gay population, they fucking can't. You know why? Because despite the bullshit, we are in evolving people that will not stand for discriminatory laws no matter how hard these bullshit laws try to take us back to racist and bigoted times of America. There was this thing in Nazi Germany, they were called Nuremberg laws...those fuckers were passed. And you know what happened, mass discrimination sanctioned by law... Dear Dr. Carson...seriously?

3. Obama is not Hitler, neither was GW Bush. Guys, I am not a fan of NSA, I was not a fan of the Iraq war, in fact I am not a big fan of any part of our government. But those men, with their bullshit legislation, and their fucked up wars, and those fucking drones, I am sorry, but they are not Hitler. They are not the leaders of a Nazi state. Have they done wrong...of course. Have they rounded the usual suspects and burned them for greater purity glory? No. 

4. In a place like the United States of America, you can't have racial purity. This is the biggest melting pot. We have people from all over. Dark, yellow, black, brown and purple, we are all sorts of shades. And now you've got bitches painting themselves another color. Good luck with weeding out one type of person. 

5. WE DON'T PERSECUTE THE JEWS OR CHRISTIANS! Guys, the only people that really get to bitch is the Islamic community because since 9/11 we have held them in Guantanamo without a trial. And yeah, there is a lot of controversy surrounding this and its an embarrassing mark on America's history. But no one gets to say they are persecuted, and they sure as fuck aren't being rounded up in to concentration camps and systematically being turned in ashes for the neighboring town to wake up to. 

So NO Dr. Ben Carson..we are not equal to Nazi Germany... pass some horrific legislature and then we will talk. 

Disclaimer: Please take this as tongue in cheek. I am not an American Eagle wearing, flag waving, lover of the United States. I am incredibly critical and do believe that we have enacted atrocities against other nations. This is just my fuck you to Ben Carson. Because Ben Carson sucks. Next week I am going to bring up how the treatment of Muslims DOES equate us to Nazi Germany...maybe. 

TT: Bat Shit Crazy

Ask me what drives me crazy and I will answer easy enough...the word "crazy" drives my crazy.

"Why?", asked the gentle reader. I will tell you why...

Crazy is a dismissive term for a greater underlying issue. Crazy is when you don't know what is wrong so its labeled as such and tucked away.

Crazy are what women are labeled when they cry uncontrollably after giving birth, unable to bond with their newborn.

Crazy is the mother who hasn't slept for days and snaps at her kids.

Crazy is the word used when you are overwhelmed, and tears stream down your face.

Crazy is Jonestown.

Crazy is Hitler, and his years of occupation. It's not like the European powers ALLOWED him in to the Sudetenlands, oh no, he is just crazy...all by himself.

Crazy is the guy who had copious access to weapons, and shot up a school.

Crazy is the teenage mom who just wanted to feel like a teenager again and leaves her baby with her ten year old brother to babysit.

Crazy is the veteran babbling derogatory terms like "zipperhead" to himself on First and Santa Clara.

Crazy is the person who doesn't agree with your opinion, and therefore is clearly wrong on everything in life...fucker must be crazy.

Crazy is a label for something we are not educated on, and something we do not understand. It's for the explanations that we can't conceive. And I am sure many will say that this post is crazy.

Yes, this word, CRAZY, it drives me fucking crazy.

All kissy face and shit

I am the girl who is typically unimpressed with Valentines Day. Don't get me wrong, I am a typical girl that likes to be surprised with tokens of appreciation. But it was hard for me to catch on to the whole gift giving, and major ram hard loving on this particular day. I mean, it all felt so forced and generic. A day to show the person that  you love, that you really do love and care for them...am I or was I wrong in thinking that this is bullshit? That my affection and appreciation toward this significant other should be proudly displayed and not saved for 2/14...my personal date in infamy?!?!?!

Here is the thing, I hate receiving flowers. Its a nice gesture when you graduate, or some sort of event. But I have this weird thing about receiving them from boys. Especially boys who should know me and what I love, or some semblance of this. I feel that flowers from a guy are lazy. I know what you must be thinking, what an ungrateful and inconsiderate brat I am. I get it, and I don't blame you for thinking this way. But here is my logic. If I am to invest an amount of time in a person, and they in turn with me, then shouldn't I be presenting them with a gift that speaks to their personality and characteristics, rather than a decaying mass grabbed from a bucket at the Safeway?

Let me clear something up, I am not saying I need to be bought an expensive gift either. My feeling is only that I would much rather be taken for a coffee or a walk than presented with a bouquet because some Hallmark exec cocksucker thought a day in February was a great day to REALLY love someone.

But then something fucking happened. Call it Cupid raping me behind the Jack in the Box, or maybe that I found someone that I actually respected and cared about, not just a person I was "investing" time in. Said guy sweeps me off my feet...not with flowers or jewelry, but with intellect and wit. There was no conversation that was off limits, no moment that life was not a fun, or a day that we could not enjoy each other. Each call, text, kiss was effortless and deep in emotion. I wanted to show this awesome beau my gratitude with daily blow jobs and any other tokens of appreciation.

I suddenly found myself nervous about our first Valentines Day. In fact, I found myself wanting to celebrate this day. I wanted to make it different, set apart. I had already given him more  caring and loving than I ever had with anyone, but on this day, I wanted him to feel extra special. No generic overpriced dinners, no Hallmark cards...something that would set this day apart from the every day " I love you" and "eres mi vida".

Remembering a previous conversation, I decided to engage his sister and his mother in my plan. You see my boy loves food, good food. And a favorite of his was something that his mother made. My master plan was to cook this dish, but first, I had to get the recipe from her. Still intimidated, and desperately wanting to make a good impression, I commissioned his sister to get the recipe from their mother. I had no idea how this was going to go. I didn't want her to feel that I was replacing her, but rather respecting her cooking skills. Luckily she seemed pleased and was happy to share the recipe.
Next was the issue of the card. Now, let me tell you something...I don't have a creative streak at all. And I didn't want to give him some god awful card with a big ass heart on the top. I just wanted something cute and his style. I am fortunate to come from a family of scapbookers. In the end I was able to put together a card with beer bottle stickers and a heart together.

Then came the big day. I made the meal, finished the card, grabbed a bottle of his favorite beer. But I wanted to really surprise him and be cliched in one area...the underwear. So I decide to purchase this frilly red underwear. Now, I am not the tiniest girl, and no matter what size of ruffled chonis you buy, that shit is going to travel up your ass and chafe the shit out of it. So I buy the stupid fucking underwear because hey, my babe is worth it,  and again, this was the first time I really wanted to celebrate this day.

So I go to his house walking like an asshole because the cute little frills are being eaten by my ass, with a dish full of shrimp and a beer. I knew he had been prepping for the day, and I was nervous. I wasn't sure what the day would be like. I mean, this person was someone that I had felt different, excited, in love. Every day was like a first awesome date, how could we ever top anything like that? And then I realized, each day that we spent together, always topped the last, because it was another day with each other. And although it was Valentine's, we were incredibly happy.

It also helped that in leiu of flowers, he bought me a tequila bottle. I am the luckiest girl ever.

Anonymity

As I have bitched before, I am putting on the big girl Chonis and putting my writing out in the open. I can still be depressed and cut into my diary in a corner, but I like the feed back that I get from some of you from time to time.

So I started to think about screen names, pen names and such. You know, those magical veils that allow each and every one of to say and think what we want, and just how important its become to the "anonymous" writer. I put this in parenthesis because I am not so anonymous anymore. Perhaps its my ego that propels me, perhaps its the expression on my boyfriend's face after reading, or maybe its just that I one day hope to be known for all of the awesome shit I posted over the years (more like months...Whichever).

So then my ADD mind started wandering, and with the help of a friend, started thinking of alter ego personas, and the magic I could create with them. I will now list these personas...some of them have already been created...some of them will be coming soon:

Pikachu Hitler Girl - This character will get down and dirty with the racist jokes without turning to look who might be standing behind her. She'll make the oven and jew jokes ten times louder than RaritaVanesita ever could. I know what you are thinking, "this doesn't sound any different than real Vanessa". So if you are saying that to yourself, consider yourself mother fucking special, because I have allowed you in to my circle and deemed you non-lame and therefore worthy of being present in my natural state. If you have no idea what I am talking about and are now completely horrified...then ha...you are lame. People are going to hate her, and I can't wait.

Rarita Vanesita - you've already caught a glimpse of this one. She is here, typing this right now. She is going to use foul language and try to make you laugh. She might even get personal, but she will most likely keep you at arms length because this persona is for the masses and not the cool elite...maybe.

The Obnoxious Wallflower - this one, oh man, this one is the emo persona. It/she is brooding, crying over abso-fucking-lutely everything. She has mommy issues, daddy issues. She hates the world and the world hates her. This one will stay tucked away, to be used for exceptionally whiny days.

There you have them. Now show me yours.