The countdown has begun..

T-minus 2 days until I start my new job. When I start on Monday, it will mark the end of my 418 day vacation between real employment. A feat I am extremely proud of. It has been the best year of my life, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. (possible exception: someone professionally cleaning my room (and front car seat) in the next 24 hours).

I remember when I was looking for jobs out of college, I told myself: "I've had a lot of fun for the last 21 years, so it's time to suck it up and work 80-100 hour weeks for 5 years, have no discernible life and set myself up for a decent existence down the road.."

Boy, was that the dumbest thing my brain has ever produced. 4 years removed from graduation, and I am no where near where I thought I would be. And I love it. Sure, I am settling back into a decent and safe career, but no matter how much I get into my work, quality of life will always be priority #1. (At least until I have kids, then it will become priority #32 behind such things as; potty training, ass wiping, gerber food shipments, my wife's tolerance for juvenile behavior/humor, etc.)

While I embark on a new job and a little more stability in my life after 1+ years of living on couches, floors, nappy hostel mattresses, single beds, king beds, in tents, on buses, on planes, in cars, and everywhere in between, I will never stop craving surprises, unpredictabilities, new challenges and blue powerade. Never!

It has been one hell of a ride thus far, and the thing I look most forward to, is not knowing where life is going to take me. (Although I must admit, it is somewhat depressing knowing that I will never be a professional baseball player or child chess prodigy).

Real World Praha

This is the true story:

Of four non-strangers, 25 years in age (actually, the geriatric "casey" cat is 26), not-picked to live in an apartment, but living in an apartment nonetheless, not-picked to not-work together, and have their lives taped (confessional style in the bathroom on the low-flow toilet with a digital camera on a 4-inch tripod). To find out what happens when Kev and Casey (hosts in prague) start being polite again, (because the friend-o-meter is rising like a yeast infection) and continue being real with imported pals Frank and Stu. The Real World.

Ok, I just took the liberty of kicking my own ass for altering the sanctity of the Real World intro. I also just kissed my wallet sized photo of Wes and Johanna because it's a day of the week. (News flash to Catherine Zeta-Z and John Cusack -and later Julia Roberts: there's a new America's Sweethearts in town.)

I flew in to Prague, Czech Republic on Saturday, and I am very pleased to be here. There a 97% chance that this is one of the top 10 weekends of 2007!!

Kevin is a friend of mine from college and Casey is his fried from high school. Casey may not admit to this immediately, but we are BEST friends already. Frank is my skinny friend from college, and flew in from Virginia.

To report on the abode Kev and Casey are staying in, it is a lovely post-modern ski lodge on the 4th floor of a art-deco architectural marvel. I don't know what deco means. The refrigerator actually heats things up, so we have put all articles that we want to keep cold on the window ledge. Fingers crosses- we haven't lost anything yet.

The toilets have a very thin "seat" which poses a threat of falling in to the bowl if you have a waist of 30 inches or less. Which obviously means Kev, Casey and I are taking shifts monitoring Franks bathroom visits. Don't want to lose him.

Prague is such a cool city. Without actually knowing where the movie was filmed, this the city surroundings make me feel like Jason in the Bourne Identity and/or Supremacy. (Only without any discernible self-defense skills, an attractive women running around with me or a bullet wound in my back). Although, I suppose there I still have 3 more days here.. so there's still time.

I haven't really done much here. Prague is the perfect city to just walk around and get lost in. And to be frank, it's impossible not to get lost with the layout of their streets. It appears their urban planner was a drunk teenager using an etch-a-sketch blindfolded and listening to Nirvana.

Strolling the cobblestone streets, chilling by the river and viewing the Baroque architecture is a pleasurable way to spend an afternoon. So too, is sitting in a pub or my friends dope apartment a few blocks away from the Charles Bridge.

It's good to be here. I know approximately 1 Czech word and it is Jaromir Jagr.