Towering Crane

GODMACHINE to screen at VisionCon and I-CON Sci-FI Conventions

2012-02-13T14:01:00.001-08:00

My latest film GODMACHINE, Starring Robert Leeshock and Von Flores of EARTH:FINAL CONFLICT fame will be screening at two Sci-Fi Conventions in the upcoming months.

They are:
VISIONCON in Springfield, MO (February 17th) and I-CON on Long Island in March.

I'm pretty excited to see my film finally hit the screens and get an audience. I look forward to talking to everyone afterwards to see what they think about the project.

I'll be driving across the great state of Missouri from St. Louis to Springfield in a rental car, since I screwed up my online flight reservation with Priceline.com. That's what I get for letting Will Shatner talk me into things. I love that guy, but damn.

A Cab Driver's tale

2010-10-19T19:08:00.001-07:00

So on the way to the embassy yesterday my Cab driver told me he had lived at that same Poipet border crossing 10 years ago. He said he once watched a Cambodian man shoot and kill a Vietnamese woman crossing the border just because he liked the color of her motorcycle.

Yep. That sounds about right.

What the hell was I thinking?!!!!

2010-10-19T18:48:00.000-07:00

Here's some nice tales about how the Poipet is one of the worst, most notorious lawless human trafficking and murder towns on the planet. WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/world-vision/poipet-where-cambodians-a_b_214912.html

http://humantraffickingworldwide.blogspot.com/2009/07/girls-for-sale-in-poipet.html

http://www.beaheroaustralia.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=4&Itemid=36

http://www.lightstalkers.org/images/show/251785

http://www.camnet.com.kh/cambodia.daily/selected_features/poipet.htm

www.twnside.org.sg/title2/ttcd/SO-01.doc

Holiday in Cambodia

2010-10-18T09:13:00.000-07:00

An important lesson was learned that I will never forget:

NEVER, NEVER, cross the Cambodian border at night. Especially alone and a Farang (Foreigner).

NEVER.

I didn't intend on doing this. The train from Bangkok took way longer than I thought. I was hoping to cross the border during the day and deal with the usual scams tourist face, then head up to Siem Riep and Angkor Wat.

I had read in the quidebooks about little hustles here and there, but what they had in store for me was something entirely more nefarious.

It all started with the Thai police on the train. I can speak a healthy amount of Thai, and I began to hear little phrases as we neared the border. "Farang"(foreigner)this and that. Whispering. It was unsettling.

When we arrived at Aruthapatryet, a TUK TUK driver appeared magically OUT OF NOWHERE on the train. I remember it being quite odd, as if he "knew" a farang was already on the train. The fucking bastard made a bee line for me and hustled me onto his Tuk Tuk.

I did my best to try and shake him, but the guidebooks did happen to mention you'd need to take one anywyay, so I did. I shouldn've trusted my gut instinct. It was a lesson I learned and wouldn't forget in the future.

I now know the Thai police tipped him off.

I was then whisked away to a BORDER CROSSING STATION. Or at least, for a few minutes I thought it was.

Then it hit me: it was all fake. Cheap stationary. A couple of staplers here and there. A laminated map scotchtaped to the wall. Even by third world standards it was a joke.

But these guys were really polished. They had a hip Cambodian kid with a British accent grilling me about whats in my bag, why my passport doesn't have this-that. 1000 baht that. 1000 baht this. Nothing the guide books said I'd ever be charged by the normal hustles. The shake down was on. (And what the fuck were cambodions doing on the THAI side of the border anyway?)

I did my best to haggle and maintain my composure, but these guys were relentless. They're apparently a Cambodian mafia that runs the border smuggling in the area. And there I was, all alone, not an American or other Farang for perhaps 300 miles or so in any direction.

My ass began to pucker. I knew I was fucked here, and played along as much as I could. I made another ATM run, then I started pushing back a little.

Normally the plan for getting across the border is first, you do it by day. Second, you pay your little bribes then immediately grab a bus and get the hell out of there.

But the busses had stopped running. They told me I would have to take their taxis for 2500 baht. They then got to the thing that made my spine chill.

THey wanted me to share this taxi with "undocumented female workers". Supposedly me riding with them would help them get through Cambodia faster, past Police blocks. I immediately begin to feel a little sick in my stomach. I told them I don't want to ride with others, but what I really wanted to say is I didn't want to ride with what were probably sex slaves. They then said I could ride alone, but I didn't believe them.

With so many things going on, including this one Cambodian guys aussie accent that was strangely hilarious as the ominous began looming more and more, some of the logic slowly started settling in my brain. Why am I talking to Cambodians this side of the border? Why would I need to ride with these girls once we are already over the border? I did my best acting job to seem cool and collected. But inside these guys had very specific plans for me. I wasn't exactly sure at the time what they were, maybe not even now. But I can tell you now I knew at that point that they were not taking us to Siem Riep in that cab. That is for sure.

Finally they took us to the "real border"...which is bullshit, if you think about it. I thought perhaps the Thai officers there would be trustworthy, but why would they be stamping bullshit THai departure forms written up by Cambodians? It was getting uglier.

But nothing was uglier than what I saw once I crossed into Cambodia:

About 7 Khmer guys waiting for me in the shadows. On cell phones, pretending to be calling. These guys were amateurs when it came to being inconspicuous. Obviously they knew I was a big guy and they would need more help if I didn't behave. I saw the sharks circling in the distance.

Here's something I learned quickly: There's something about how a bad guy uses a cell phone. They never smile. Remember that. Bad guys never smile when using cell phones. If you look closely, their faces are lifeless and their words seem monotone. That is how I began to tell the bad guys apart from the good guys.

Fuck walking in there. Robert De Niro's line from RONIN began to play in my head:

"I don't walk in somewhere I can't walk out of"

I immediately headed back to the Thai border, which pissed my Cambo escort off. I asked the Thai police if I could trust this guy. They promised he was trustworthy.

Now realizing I was attracting attention, I tried to save face by walking back, realizing the Thai police were absolutely useless here, being on the take.

My ass began to pucker more, I was in some real shit. I saw no American faces. I was in their world. And I was running out of options. All alone. No police that could be trusted. Me versus the Cambodian underworld. All I could do was play along, taking very small steps, trying to piece together the big picture of what they were actually trying to get me to do.

These guys, though the evil thugs they are, were amateurs. I could see them closing in from the corner of my eyes, talking on their cell phones: "Farang going here, Farang going there". My Thai language skills ultimately would save my life. I knew they were talking about me. Giving people my height. Stats. Shit like that. I can understand those things in Thai.

I began hearing growls. Laughter. These guys were using the wolfpack mentality on me. I asked where the Taxi was. They kept saying "farther", "just a little farther".

I've ridden in my fair share of taxis. It never takes 7 Cambodian thugs to escort you to a taxi. And I never saw the fucking taxi they were talking about.

What I realized they were trying to get me to do was to get away from sight of the few Thai Casinos just on the outside of the border. These Casinos have normal Thai people playing in them. It seems the Casino owners and the Cambo mafia have an agreement not to have anything go down directly in front of the Casinos.

I turned into a Casino, hoping to find salvation. I asked them for the police. An embassy.

They just shook their heads.

It wasn't a language thing. It was a "you're in Cambodia" thing. As if you can call an embassy or find a police officer here. They almost started laughing at me.

I know I've been talking about ass puckering a lot, but here's where my asshole fell completely out: When I reached into my wallet, my ATM was missing.

I paniced. Now I was really fucked. The sharks stood outside, not able to cause commotion in the casinos. My Cambo escort however managed to come in and extort another hundred baht out of me as I struggled to get a overdrawn credit card to work again.

I began shooting from Casino to casino, playing this game of jockey and intimidation with my pursuers, trying to not let them cut me off from the Casino patron's sights.

I tried approaching one Cambodian police officer, asking him to call the US embassy. He just looked away, as if I hadn't said anything at all. MORE fucked! I learne then, and never forgot, that I would always be comepletely on my own while in Cambodia. No NAVY SEALS. No MARINES.

Each Casino wouldn't let me stand inside for too long without a way to pay for a room or play slots. Not having money is the surest way to disappear forever into a Cambodian night. And I was running out of options. I was actually considering if I could make it to the jungle and escape into the night. I looked down at my flip flops and my heart sank.

I'm not sure how I managed this, but I managed to power walk to a huge Casino in the distance where I met a very, very nice hostess who let me stay the night...for free...with the idea that I could pay in the morning via Western Union. The Hotel just happened to have a Western Union in it. What a God Send. BUt it wouldn't open till 11am the next day.

I realized from that point on I could never leave this hotel, not until I had some kind of game plan. These guys would pick me up at some point if I ever stepped outside.

I holded myself up in the room the hostess gave me. I scrambled to get my tech going, calling on two phones, despearetly trying to get money, overdrafts waived. And that's when the shit hit the fan. Calls dropping. Embassy phones not working. Phones not having minutes. Phones with bad batteries. YOu name it, it broke at the worst time.

I went down to the lobby once to try and use the wireless. Immediately a Casino staffmember approached me...

"So, got a room yet"??

Obviously he was working for the guys outside. I found a way to blow him off.

I didn't leave my room the rest of the night. I barricaded the door and didn't sleep a week. Everytime someone walked by I picked up whatever object I had in the hotel room to use and gripped it tight.

By morning time, there wasn't a whole lot of good news pouring in. People were having problems, the usual fuck-all techno-website bullshit that always seems to screw you at the absolute worst time. And again, no calls from the embassys. The Thai Tourist police yelled at me and hung up because I couldn't understand his English. I was alone, with only my friends who were desperately trying to help.

I had to check out by noon. I could not afford to go down there without cash. Cash was my only power I had. I was cringing the idea of what I would do when hotel security kicked me out on the street. What would happen to me? I was prepared to fight, but you can't fight an entire kingdom.

My credit card was failing me time and time again, but finally, good news...the first wire transfers were coming in.

I paid my nights rent. The hostess gave me a free lunch. I persuaded her to let me use her personal driver and car so I could avoid the taxi mafia outside. That was my only hope in eluding these guys once outside.

I snuck out on a 2 hour car ride to Siem Triep airport. That was the only nice part of being in Cambodia I can think of.

I remember thinking though that I can't get lax yet. I soon realized how right I was.

I was on my way to inquire about tickets when a "security guard" who came up to me and told me he would "tell his friend that I was here now" in a chilling, mocking tone. He was going to notify the guys at the border my location. I knew then I only had a little time to find a plane.

I had begin learning a crash course in thinking on your feet. How to read a person in about 6 seconds to know if they were on the take or a real person. What's funny is my acting and directing skills also helped. I've seen a lot of bad acting in my day. And bad guys in real life are terrible actors. The fact that this guy had tried to intimidate me at the airport was actually his downfall, cause it forced me to jump into action.

I noticed a bunch of westerners going to Singapore. I knew that I had to be on this plane. There were no other planes leaving for another 7 hours, giving the rest of the gang plenty of time to come here or perhaps finding a way to detain me for some bullshit passport problem. I knew that if I didn't get on that plane right away I may not have escaped Cambodia. I'm not kidding.

One has to understand there is really no law in Cambodia. I never saw a US Embassy. YOu are all alone there, and you are fucked if you run into a problem like this. I mean you are fucked.

When it came time to buy tickets it was sold out, but too my luck, there was one buisness class ticket available. The only draw was that it was 525 bucks, and my credit card had been failing me all night.

THis was it. It was either work now or never work.

It did.

I immiediately began chatting up my airline clerk, following him everywhere, asking me to show me around the airport, making sure he was always by my side to keep the security guards from doing something creative to keep me there.

A couple of things that really dawned on me during this experience is that you have to always trust your instincts. Always.

One thing that was especially different, especially in the first few hours, was that seeing farang in this region is exceedingly rare, which means they STARE, and I mean STARE at you. This was quite unsettling when your already paranoid out of your goard.

My guess, at the end of the day, is that I was this lucky little opportunity that fell in their lap. At night, I noticed the place was full of prostitution. I saw a few African guys on cell phones that just had slave trader look, like they were there for some "inspections of new merchandise" kind of look. My guess is during the day, they run the normal scams, but at night, they change their business model a bit. And I just happened to be this guy who came along who they might make a few extra bucks on.

Never travel to Cambodia at night.

I need to collect myself and figure out what to do from here. I feel like I've been living in a Bourne identity film. I really had to think on my feet.

The nice thing is I think I did all the right things as well as all the wrong things.

I saw some real evil in people that night. I don't know how to describe it. Just evil that can't be seen, but sensed. It's horrible what people are doing out there. And what other people are letting them do.

I wonder about those girls in the taxi waiting for me to join them.

They are not as lucky as me, and that's fucking sad.

Journey back to life...

2010-01-19T11:19:00.001-08:00

So I just finished up, as of the first of the year, my experience with testicular cancer. As of now, I'm cancer free, and intend on remaining that way. A great friend of mine has been updating a blog for me detailing my journey in greater detail. Check it out here:
http://chemocranor.blogspot.com/

The experience has been remarkable. I've healed on many levels. I never imagined I would receive the amount of love and support I did. Some might find this strange, but cancer has been one of the best things to ever happen to me. Of course, I'm not interested in repeating the experience! But it's been more of an opportunity, if anything, to dig deep and connect to the mystery that powers every one of our human experiences, and how we each play a unique part and have our own heroic stories to unfold.

Anyhooo....I wanted to share this video of my buddies putting on a show for me at one of the cancer benefits thrown in my honor. It's really awesome...there were some great items in the auction, including a Vince Neil autographed guitar that I won (thanks Lance) and some other great memorabilia from amazing bands. Thanks to OH and everyone else who helped out.

The Endless Still - Live @ Club Motor 12/11/2009 from Outlaw Branding on Vimeo.

I'd also like to thank the folks at Martini Design, my co-workers, who let me stay with them through this experience...they really went way beyond the call of duty for friends, let alone co-workers.

There are really too many people to thank, it is quite overwhelming to be honest. I'm making preparations to try and do something for each and every person who helped me. I would not have gotten through this otherwise.

Thank you all ;) I'm there for you if you ever need me...guaranteed ;)

Tribute video

2009-11-27T13:08:00.001-08:00

WOW. Look what a friend of mine did, using iPhone apps to recreate a Beatle's song. Amazing video!

On a Howard Jones Kick

2009-09-23T11:57:00.001-07:00

Something about Howard Jones is very appealing to me right now. This song especially. Here's a link:

I'd post the original music video, but there's a fucking mime in it.

KATANA Press

2009-01-25T20:43:00.000-08:00

Got some great press on Katana!

http://news.tubefilter.tv/2009/01/22/katana-slices-dices-premieres-on-striketv/

http://www.ikigaiway.com/2009/katana-chozens-back-baby/

A FOBulous journey

2007-06-06T15:04:00.000-07:00

Making a film is a very personal and special journey to embark upon. You learn a lot of things about yourself, such as things you all ready knew, and of course, things you didn't want to know. But in the end they're all things you should know. You just gotta hope that when you see the final edit it was all worth it. And if not, well, I guess there's always the special-edition DVD director's cut.

I wrote “Simply FOBulous” in 2 days. It's probably the best thing I've ever written. But honestly, I really shouldn't take any credit. The script wrote itself.

I should also admit the concept was my wife's idea. She's Vietnamese-American, and had gotten fed up watching films with Vietnamese people playing prostitutes, gang-members, and Charlie. She had a point — it wasn't fair.

Being a white guy growing up in Trailer Park USA, I loved it when Chuck and Stallone opened up a can of whoop-ass against the Viet Cong in South East Asia. But after being married to my wife, getting a chance to really see her life and get to know her and her family as real people, not simply screaming extras running around with AK-47s, I realized life does imitate art, and vice versa. What we do see on TV becomes the fabric of our society. Being that I had now seen and lived on both sides of the issue, I found myself in a place where I could be honest and tell a good story, a real story that would not be ashamed to look at life’s stereotypes and also not be limited by them, thereby transcending them.

It wasn't hard getting people excited about the project. What was hard, however, was finding money. We live in Seattle, so there aren't a lot of opportunities to "power lunch" with Bruckenheimer.

So, armed with a $5,000 budget scraped together by my wife’s family, we went down to LA, where we found some great actors. But needless to say, with that kind of budget, Dustin Nguyen wasn't busting down our door. In Hollywood, nobody is in a hurry to make a film with an all-Vietnamese cast. Unless, of course, it has a high enough body count.

We came back up to Seattle, determined to make our film no matter what. We found actors, most of them Vietnamese. We shot over the course of 3 months, on the weekends and some week nights. I was very nice to the actors, to the point where some people complained. (You know how actors get). But I had to be nice, they weren’t being paid! (Deferred payment)

With an ensemble cast of 30 or so people, half of them non-actors, I couldn't afford a mutiny. Our budget wouldn't allow us to CGI Vietnamese people in post if anyone quit. I was fair and determined, and that won everyone over. We even got Sir Mix-A-Lot to show up for a day. He's always ready to represent Seattle. Not to mention, always down for free Chinese food.

A lot of people do come up to me and ask, why or how was I able to write and direct a story about a culture I obviously am not really a part of?

I tell them the film is universal, not about a culture or particular race. It's really about a facet of the human experience everyone struggles with at one point or another. If you were born and raised in America and had to move to Mexico tomorrow, forever, would you ever really consider yourself "Mexican"? If your kids grew up in Mexico, would you consider them Mexican? Would you want them marrying Mexicans, or someone of your own race? Does that make you racist? Or just terribly homesick? (I'm sure even the Pilgrims missed their English Breakfast and afternoon tea for a bit).

It's something that I think that if asked, it can help you understand issues others find quite painful. Pain is often a doorway into something much more beautiful and positive, if you can hold the door open long enough and have a laugh or two while doing so.

In any case, I hope you enjoy the film.

Oh, and Viva Mexico!

-Rich

"Simply FOBulous" gets DVD deal..

2007-04-03T15:20:00.000-07:00

Well guys, the day has finally come. Been wanting to write this for quite some time. So glad to be able to finally do so.

I just finished talking to Liam Finn of Breakthrough Distribution. He's partnered with Mill Creek Entertainment, and they've selected my film to be part of their "Reel Indies" line of films.

Here's their website: http://www.reelindies.com/index.html

Simply FOBulous will recieve retail distribution throughout all North American territories in such stores as Best Buy, Wal Mart, Barnes and Noble, Target, and also on Amazon and Netflix. (Not sure if we'll be in all stores in all locations, but should be in some)

It's also going to be part of the Ingram entertainment catalouge, which means it might be Blockbuster at some point as well.

Signing the paperwork now. I'm really thrilled. It's a very good deal for a low budget filmmaker to get. Didn't see any potential problems in the contract. If they live up to their end of the bargain, this will be a very nice end to a great filmmaking adventure.I'll have more info later. -

I'm Long and Firm in Holland

2007-04-02T17:19:00.000-07:00

While I was in Amsterdam I did interviews with the AsiaScope Rotterdam Film Festival and also with Dutch-Chinese radio. I'll post some pics soon, but for now, here's a link to the print interview:

http://www.asiascope.nl/index1.php

You'll have to run it through an online webpage translator to see what it says. Here's a snippet though:

"The Director Rich Cranor makes an immediate impression in the Amsterdam hotel lobby. He is LONG AND FIRM, a real American"

I love it!

An International Bufoon's European Vacation

2007-04-02T07:17:00.001-07:00

I admit, I was a bufoon long before I ever sat foot in Amsterdam's reefer ridden canals and alleyways, but after having travelled 3 European capitals (Amsterdam, London, Paris) in the past 2 1/2 weeks, I can now proudly say I'm also an international one.

THE NETHERLANDS - March 14-17th, 2007

Aside from the Dutch Mafia and their bathroom attendants, who gave me my only real scare in Europe (I'll explain later), the Dutch are as close to a perfect society as is possible. I'll explain why:

THEY HAVE THE BEST PANCAKES
They eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. How cool is that? You don't even need to use syrup on them. It's crazy.

THEY ALL SPEAK PERFECT ENGLISH
This is a god-send for any traveling bufoon. Trust me, you don't want to try to speak perfect Dutch. I did, and discovered the words for "can I rent a bike" and "can I rent a whore" are almost exactly alike.

You see, Dutch is pretty much German spoken with a Swedish accent. It's cool, but the vowels make it tough. So just stick with Dutch "thank yous" and "hello/goodbyes", BUT ALWAYS SPEAK ENGLISH when renting bikes ("huuren fietsen", vs "hooren fietsen", which is "to rent whores on bikes"), or you'll be squeezing a hooker between your handlebars, and you'll never be able to see those lovely canals.

DUTCH LIBERALISM WORKS
Our hotel *just happened* to be right next to the red light district. And let's face it, I made sure it was. Why else was I going to Amsterdam? Oh wait, that's right, I was there for a film festival my film was playing in (postponed). But that was in Rotterdam. OK! I admit it. I wanted to see titties.

But here's the thing, the red light district is not as seedy as it seems. Yes there are sex shows (no commment), girls in windows, and lots of weed being smoked. One guy offered me cocaine. He was very nice about it.

The real mind blower, the huge revelation, what makes Amsterdam anything but what conservative American thinks it would be, is this:

EVERYBODY GOES TO THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT!!!!

I mean EVERYBODY is there. Your Grandma is there. I saw her buying a dildo. I swear. It is no secret. It really isn't some seedy place where guys in trenchcoats wave their pee-pees around. There are ogling middle school kids walking around, babies in baby strollers, senior citizens, japanese schoolgirls, EVERYBODY.

I think by having everything out in the open, nothing festers in some dark underbelly. Criminals can't exploit something that is public and legal. And most people don't behave as badly as you think they would.

the not so subtle Dutch

THE GOOD:
The canals are gorgeous. The bike rides are fun. The pancakes are great. And of course, the girls in the windows are fun to stare at.

Also, the Anne Frank Museum. If you go to one Museum in Europe, go to this one. It's the most intimate and life changing experience you'll have at any museum. Fuck the water lillies and Rembrandts. Go see Anne. There's nothing like it.

THE BAD:

FOOD POISONING INDUCED SCHIZOPHRENIA
Not good. Don't ever eat salmon and smoke a joint at the same time. It's a tramautizing experience.

GOING DUTCH
Ever wondered why that saying exists? Well, Dutch people are cheap. They'll admit it.

For example, there are probably 10 million bikes in Holland, yet maybe only 3 or 4 have been purchased since WW2. The Dutch simply refuse to buy anything new. I bet you could find Anne Frank's bike if you looked hard enough.

DUTCH MAFIA BATHROOM ATTENDANTS
The one in a club I met demanded 50 cents out of every guy using a stall, and he offered NOTHING in return. No soap, no towel, he just made you pay him 50 cents, or else. (I saw him rough up one guy as I was pissing, no shit).

So what did I do? While peeing, I checked my pockets (tricky but possible). I noticed I had 40 cents and one crisp 50 dollar euro bill. I wasn't going to give him 50 euros for a piss with no hand relief, so I figured I'd give him the 40 cents and hope he wouldn't kill me for being 10 cents short.

But, because he was the biggest asshole I'd ever met, I PEED all over the 40 cents before giving it to him. He was busy and looking for an easier mark, so he did a quick count of the money and called it good at 40 cents. I'm not sure if he cared the money was wet or not.

LONDON, ENGLAND March 19th - 23rd

Ok, I admit, the weather was shit but I LOVED LONDON. And you know what, THE FOOD WAS FANTASTIC! I've always been a big Anglo-file, mainly because of my love for The Smiths and Morrisey. But you know what, up close and in person, London delivers the goods. Any buffoon will agree.

First of all, the "Tube" is the most amazing piece of mass transit I've ever ridden on. It's clean, it's effecient, the people on it are polite. In fact, people in Britain are THE MOST POLITE people on the planet. Their face could be on fire and they'd still find time to smile and show proper manners. But here's the big revalation about the Brits, this is what makes them far superiour to ourselves:

THEY ARE A SOCIETY THAT REWARDS INTELLIGENCE

Mind-blowing, isn't it? British TV and news had to be the most boring I've ever watched. Yet I realized something profound as I was watching it.

It was articulate. It was intelligent. It was engaging. It was honest. It was not dumbed down for my primal bufoon monkey brain to get. There were old people on it, using big ass words. They're were no drugged out stick thin blondes screwing in night vision. There were no explosions. There were some titties late at night, but they were smart titties. I've never seen anything like it.

THINGS TO DO:
Check out the London Eye, Buckingham Palace, all the usual tourist stuff, but be sure to also do one night of theatre. London is the capital of Theatre in Europe. It's really something else. We heard Patrick Stewart yelling. It was cool.

PARIS, FRANCE March 24th - 31st

What can I say about gay Paree?

Well, I can say that it is certainly GAY at times. I had a flirtatious waiter tell me I spoke French perfectly. WTF? No French waiter EVER says that. He obviously wanted to suck my dick. He tried, but I managed to pay my bill in time and avoid his pink panther.

That being said, I'm not sure I'd ever want to live there. To be honest, the food wasn't that good. It was the same food everyday. A crossaint. A cappuchino. Look! Surprise! It's a sandwich with no condiments. Shoot me all ready. I ate McDonalds twice while I was there. I had to.

And what's up with the toilets? I had to do the third world squat while doing the numero deux. Being 6 foot 5, there's a four foot drop from my ass to the hole in the floor. Not much room for error in those situations, especially when I'm buzzed and balancing on crooked medeival tiles. I know the French like to take things easy, but for god's sake, somebody open a Home Depot in that country.

But like I said, the monuments are other-worldly. There is nothing like the Eifel Tower at night or a cruise along the Seine. So I'll give the Parisians that. And, like the Brits, their TV is not dumbed down for us bufoon brained Americans. I saw more truth in 10 minutes of French news than a years worth of American CNN coverage. Not even Anderson Cooper's 360 degree view sees what I saw. He'd be lucky to see his own ass in France.

So why do we, as Americans, get such a bad rap? Well, I'll give you two examples:

THURSDAY - EIFEL TOWER
The Eifel tower is guarded by machine gun carrying members of the French special forces. These guys could kill you if they stare at you longer than 3 seconds. That's why they constantly keep their heads moving to avoid gazing at any tourist too long and potentially decimating France's tourist industry.

That being sad, some American idiot countrymen of mine decided they would go up to these guys and ask them WHERE THE ENTRANCE TO THE EIFEL TOWER WAS.

First of all, they were standing right underneath the Eifel tower. Something tells me with a little time and patience, one could eventually answer this question themselves.

Second, there are hundreds of beret-loving Gauls in the immediate vicinity who are capable of answering the question for them. They are the French people WITHOUT THE BIG ASS GUNS HUNTING FOR OSAMA BIN LADEN. The French Paratroopers obviously have something more important to do than help your not so lost ass out.

FRIDAY - INTERNET CAFE
I walked into a French internet cafe. As I was walking in, I was going over the French words in my head I would say to the owner. ("Puis je utilizey, sil vous plait?)

But as I walked in, an American man was all ready screaming at him in English: "What the fuck is wrong with the keyboards! Don't you have any real keyboards? Keyboards that aren't all fucked up?"

Apparently in France they have what is called the French language. And French computers use keyboards with a French language layout. It took some time, but I was eventually able to explain to him his awful reality. He would have to come to terms with the fact that being in another country meant, as horrible as it sounds, one might have to use a keyboard THAT DOES NOT use the standard American English layout. The horror...the horror.

Overall Feelings and Impressions

Overall, Europe is cool. Just remember to treat Gypsies like Borat does, take their tears only when you absolutely need to, and you'll be fine.

Also, in addition to saying you're Canadian, say you're a Michael Jackson fan, even if you're not. They still play "Beat It" on Dutch radio. I'm not lying. It'll go over really well. It makes up for voting for Bush twice.

Tot Ziens, Cheers, and Au Revoir!

(Don't forget to check out all these pictures of our trip. I'll have a video up soon as well)