NBA Draft Review

Good news everyone: I'm moving to Toronto! That's right! I'm going to go to Toronto and become the Raptor's new GM, replacing Ron Babcock, who is a fricking moron. I'm really excited about this opportunity, even though I'll be in Canada and it's fricking ridiculously cold up there. But hey, I have friends in Canada now.

So here's some grades for the teams in the draft (I wasn't going to do all of them, but I've got a bad feeling I will end up doing all of them).

Atlanta Hawks--Marvin Williams(2), Salim Stoudamire(31), Cenk Akyol(59): A. Come on pundits. You have to love the media; you're not supposed to draft on need, but skill. Marvin Williams is supposed to be the best player in the draft, and the Bucks are making a mistake by taking Bogut instead of him. So now the Hawks are being ripped for taking Williams because they have Al Harrington and Josh Smith? FUCK YOU. If Williams is as good as you assholes say he is, they he is miles ahead of Harrington, and you have no idea if Smith is going to turn out into anything or not (he's a high school pick from last year who won the dunk contest. That's hardly blowing me away.). Let's face it people: the Hawks need EVERYTHING. So leave them alone since they managed to not end up with the White Guy.

Boston Celtics--Gerald Green(18), Ryan Gomes(50), Orien Greene(53): A. Good for Boston. Once again (like they did with Pierce back in 98), they counted on other teams being stupid, and simply benefited from that. They are already developing high schooler Al Jefferson, why not develop a great swingman to go with him? They've got a great future and a decent present. And Gomes is a steal at 50.

Charlotte Bobcats--Raymond Felton(5), Sean May(13): C. Sigh...Bernie Bickerstaff, I think we might have to let you go, too. Hey Felton's a very good point, but he's not a top five pick in this draft. And May at 13? With Danny Granger, Gerald Green, Joey Graham, and Antoine Wright still on the board? Does he not realize May plays Okafur's position? Oh yeah, May will be REALLY motivated to get in shape playing for the Bobcats. You know it's bad when all the media can come up with is, "Well, they're local boys, so they will sell a lot of tickets!" Huh, I thought we were here to WIN GAMES. My bad.

Chicago Bulls--No picks: A. They traded this year's pick for Luol Deng last year. Since they would have picked 21, that was a GREAT trade.

Clevaland Cavaliers--Martynas Andriuskevicius(44): B. If you don't think I copied and pasted that name, you're crazy. Cavs didn't have any picks, and bought this one from the Magic. Why not? Probably didn't cost him too much, and this guy was supposed to go in the mid to late first round. Worth a couple of bucks.

Dallas Mavericks--No picks: C+. Traded this for Pavel Pafjlajfeao (the 7'5" Russian dude), would have been 27. Why not, it was worth a shot.

Denver Nuggets--Julius Hodge(20), Linas Kleiza(27), Ricky Sanchez(35), Axel Hervelle(52): C-. Some teams are really liking this, but I'm not. Granted, there wasn't much left to work with, but I'm not a Hodge fan (I swear the reason the media likes him is because he stayed at school for 20 years, and they're just trying to use him to make kids stay longer), I've never heard of Linas and he plays in the Big 12, and the other two are whatevers. Again, not much was left here, but the Nuggets have one hole: a good shooting two guard. I'm not a huge Francisco Garcia fan, but couldn't he have done that? Or even Salim Stoudamire? I mean, this draft didn't matter that much for this team, but with four picks you would think they could have gotten SOMETHING.

Detroit Pistons--Jason Maxiell(26), Amir Johnson(56): C-. Some 6'6" PF out of Cinci? Surely we could have done better than this.

Golden State Warriors--Ike Diogu(9), Monta Ellis(40), Chris Taft(42): A-. Nice job, especially picking up Taft at 42. He was a top ten to 15 pick before people became concerned about his work ethic. If he works at 42, awesome, if not, who cares? I like Diogu, though I like Granger better, so I bumped them from an A to an A-.

Houston Rockets--Luther Head(24): B-.Again, not much left by now. They needed a point, so they took the best available. I would have taken Simien, but whatever.

Indiana Pacers--Danny Granger(18), Erazem Lorbek(46): A+. Make no mistake--Donnie Walsh is the best GM in the NBA right now. Not that this was hard; how in the FUCK did Granger slip to 18? I don't understand it. I honestly don't. Teams will rue the day they let this happen. Well! Start rueing!

And now, all of the sudden, Indiana has a starting small forward. All of the sudden, crackhead Ron Artest is expendable. I would deal him in a HEARTBEAT.

LA Clippers--Yaroslav Korolev(12), Daniel Ewing(32): C-. Ahhh...new GM, same results. I'm glad we can count on some things in life: the Clips making bad draft picks.

LA Lakers--Andrew Bynum(10), Ronny Turiaf(37), Von Wafer(39): C. Ummm...what the Hell is going on here? They draft a high school center at 10? How do you think Kobe feels about this? With Granger on the table? Are they going to deal Kobe and try to rebuild? Stay tuned...

Memphis Grizzlies--Hakim Warrick(19), Lawrence Roberts(55): B. Best player available. Unfortunately, the Grizzlies now have about ten power forwards on their roster, but whatever. They went from a B- to a B, though with the best line of the night, coming from Jerry West: "He was a very good player at Princeton", referring to Warrick. Ummmm, Jerry? He spent four years at Syracuse. Jerry, would you really draft someone in the first round from Princeton? Really?

How the mighty have fallen.

Miami Heat--Wayne Simien(29): B.As Miami only has about 5 real players, they could use another player at any position except center (Shaq and Zo have that covered, both starter and backup). Simien is NBA ready, and you could put a zombie from the Land of the Undead next to him and the Zombie would average 10 and 10.

Milwaukee Bucks--Andrew Bogut(1), Ersan Ilyasova(36): D. Michael Olowakandi. Sam Bowie. Darko Milicic. Andrew, enjoy their company.

Minnesota Timberwolves--Rashad McCants(14), Bracey Wright(47): C+. You know, this isn't a bad pick until you realize that Antoine Wright, Joey Graham, and oh yeah, DANNY FUCKING GRANGER were still left of the table. Welcome to a younger Latrell Sprewell.

New Jersey Nets--Antoine Wright(15), Mile Ilic(43): B-. Now I've bashed some teams for passing on Wright. However, those teams did not have Richard Jefferson AND Vince Carter. I just think someone like Warrik might have fit a LITTLE bit better. Good talent though.

New Orleans Hornets--Chris Paul(4), Brandon Bass(33): A+. The Hornets got probably the best player in the draft with the fourth pick, and picked up a solid PF in the second round. GREAT job. They'll be fun to watch with Paul running the show, too.

New York Knicks--Channing Frye(8), Nate Robinson(21), David Lee(30): C+. I'm sorry, but I think there's a damn good chance Frye is the next Loren Woods. If you don't know who Woods is, yeah. Exactly. However, Robinson will be a good backup, and an INSTANT fan favorite, and the fans haven't had a fave on the Knicks for a long time.

Orlando Magic--Fran Vazquez(11), Travis Diener(38), Marcin Gorat(57): D+. Wow. Where to begin. They drafted a Spaniard who averaged 11 points and 6 rebounds a game in Spain. WOW. And he plays the same position as Dwight Howard. Good thinking. Then in the second round, they took and undersized backup point guard. Oh, wait; isn't Jameer Nelson an undersized, backup point guard?

Philadelphia 76ers--Louis Williams(45): C. Only a second round pick, and a deep one at that. Eh.

Phoenix Suns--Dijon Thompson(54): C. They traded Nate Robinson as part of the Kurt Thomas-Quentin Richardson trade. I'm not sure I like that trade...more on that in the future.

Portland Trailblazers--Martell Webster(6), Jarrett Jack (22): C. What, exactly, did they trade down for? Jarrett Jack? Okay...guys, don't just trade down to trade down, have a purpose in mind, and I hope that Jarrett Jack was not it. And Martell Webster over Granger and Green? No, thank you.

Sacramento Kings--Francisco Garcia(23): B-.Eh. I'm not a big fan of Garcia, but the Kings needed a shooter, and he was probably both the best shooter and player available at this point, so why not?

San Antonio Spurs--Ian Mahinmi(28): D+. Wow. Who the Hell is this guy? HE'S A VOLLEYBALL PLAYER! He started playing basketball 4 years ago! He's not even listed as the third best player ON HIS FRENCH TEAM! I love all the pundits: "Well, these are the guys who drafted Tony Parker and Manu, so they must just know something we don't." Hey, I have much respect for the Spurs organization too, but it's okay to say they dropped the ball on this one.

Seattle Supersonics--Johan Petro(25), Mickael Gelabale(48): C.I'm sorry, the Mavs brought over that French guy this year who was supposed to be the best player in France, and that guy would not get minutes on my Tuesday and Thursday night rec league. I'm not kidding at all. I can't believe that these two are going to end up being that great.

Toronto Raptors--Charlie Villanueva(7), Joey Graham(16), Roko Ulic(41), Uros Slokar(58): D. Ahhh...my new job. How does Babcock have a job? He drafted Rafael Araujo at number 8 last year--that has ALREADY made SI's 20 worst draft picks of all time--and then with all the talent on the board, they take Charlie Villanueva at 7. Unbelievable. He's not talented, he's a head case, and he plays the same position as your ONLY good player, Chris Bosh. And while Joey isn't a bad pick, Joey over Danny Granger? Hell, as bad as the Raptors are going to be for the next few years, Joey over Gerald Green? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! If you don't think I'm not going to send the Raptors an email offering my services as their new GM, you're crazy.

Utah Jazz--Deron Williams(3), CJ Miles(34), Robert Whaley(51): A-. They might regret taking Williams over Paul, but they get props for moving up to number 3 for basically a bunch of crap. They finally have the point they need. Unless Jerry Sloan gets mad at him, too.

Washington Wizards--Andray Blatche(49): B. The media is very excited about this pick; he's a high school kid, I have no clue who the fuck he is. Hey, it's 49, so why not. Besides, the Wizards have done well with High School kids in the past. Oh, wait...

NBA Mock Draft

Can you believe the draft is tomorrow? And you haven't heard from me yet? I know, I know. And while I hate to do two posts in a day, I MUST get my Mock Draft up. I'll only do the lottery, since with high school kids and Euros it's impossible for an average Joe like me to sit here and say, "with the 30th pick, the Knicks would be FOOLS not to select Nikafjd;zkhgejeal;rje Tzchajreoafja;lfje from Ubakistan!"

I'm excited about this draft, because there is a lot of talent in this draft. Here's my top ten best players in the draft:

1) Chris Paul
2) Deron Williams
3) Danny Granger
4) Marvin Williams
5) Gerald Green
6) Raymond Felton
7) Andrew Bogut (hey, he is 7'0")
8) Fran Vozquez (I guess)
9) Channing Frye
10) Ike Diogu

Note before we begin: there will be a LOT of trades in this draft. So while I'll pick who would pick whom where, don't put too much faith in this because the trades with throw everything out of whack. I'll try to call the trades as best I can.

1. Milwaukee Bucks: Andrew Bogut, Utah.
Why? Why will the NBA never learn? I feel so sorry for Desmond Mason. The Bucks aren't that far away in the East; picking up an impact player like Marvin Williams would be great for them. However, the Bucks look like they're leaning towards the next Great White Stiff.

2. Atlanta Hawks: Marvin Williams, North Carolina.
I'm not completely sold on him, but you have to pick him here. You just don't know with him. He's got an incredible body, great skills, and a great game. He's smart. The thing is, I don't like the lack of confidence I've seen in him. Now he is young, so he could grow out of it. Williams has incredible potential, but there's just something about him that makes me wary of him...

There's a chance (hopefully for the Bucks) that the first two picks will flip flop. Bogut won't get by Atlanta is the Bucks don't draft him.

3. Portland Trailblazers: Gerald Green, HS.
This pick will be traded. Portland is correct in thinking that the two best players left here are Chris Paul and Deron Williams, both PG, and Portland is committed to developing Sebastian Telfair. They want to trade down because they think they can still get Green or other good players later, which is also correct. Charlotte, New Orleans, Utah, and the Lakers are trying like crazy to move up here. If Portland does draft one of the points with this pick, I GUARANTEE you that he will be traded before the lottery is over.

4. New Orleans Hornets: Chris Paul, Wake Forest.
Deron Williams picked up a lot of stock recently, but I still think the Hornets will take Paul before Williams. The Hornets are looking to deal Jamaal Magloire, and I think they're going to try to play uptempo next season, which is a little more Paul's style than Williams. The Hornets are going to be very bad for a long time, so they might as well be bad while playing an entertaining style of basketball.

5. Charlotte Bobcats: Deron Williams, Illinois.
They could use a player anywhere Emeka Okafur is not playing. This is a great pick for them.

6. Utah Jazz: Danny Granger, New Mexico.
I think I'm wrong here. First of all, like I said earlier, Utah is trying to move up like crazy. They REALLY want a PG. This is probably too soon to take Raymond Felton; if the Jazz don't take Granger, I think they'll take Vazquez or Felton. I just can't stand to see Granger fall any further. He's going to be the guy who ends up being drafted around the 10th pick and everyone rues the day they passed him up. There is always one of those guys, and he's going to be it. So for Utah's sake, hopefully they take him here.

7. Toronto Raptors: Channing Frye, Arizona.
Unfortunately for the Raptors, this draft is six stars deep, and they pick seventh (okay five, but we'll include Bogut among the stars since everyone else does). The Raptors really want a center so they can move Chris Bosh to PF, which makes sense. I've heard that New Orleans wants the 7th and 16th picks (both Raptors) for Jamaal Magloire. That's too much. But if the Raptors can convince the Hornets to just take the 7th, I'd pull the trigger on that in a heartbeat. Otherwise, they'll take Frye to play center or Felton to play PG (Skip To My Lou--Raefer Alston, their new PG last year--didn't work out to well, and Alvin Williams is getting old) in a classic "best player available" pick, all the while hoping one of the 6 in front of them screws up and Green or Granger falls in their laps.

8. New York Knicks: Fran Vazquez, Spain.
Who is the biggest stiff left on the board? The Knicks will take him, especially after dealing Kurt Thomas. The rap on Vazquez is he is the most NBA ready to play of all the Euros. Who knows? In fairness to the Knicks, they did a good job drafting Nene Hilario out of Brazil a few years ago. Oh, wait: then they immediately traded him to Denver for shit. Nevermind.

The lesson, as always: Isaih Thomas is a fucking moron.

9. Golden State Warriors: Ike Diogu, Arizona State.
Another PF for the Golden State Warriors. Will they ever be good again? Ever? Diogu's not bad, but they need a star, and they're just good enough not to ever be in a position to draft one, and bad enough to NEVER make the playoffs in the west. I almost feel sorry for them, if it wasn't their own fault.

10. Los Angeles Lakers: Raymond Felton, North Carolina.
If Felton lasts til here, expect Kobe--I mean Phil and Mitch--to be doing cartwheels. Let's just say Chucky Atkin's days in LA are numbered.

11. Orlando Magic: Martell Webster, HS.
There's a lot of hype about this guy; supposedly he's one of the best shooters in the draft, and supposedly he's not even as much of a project as Green is. If all that's true, then the Magic got a HUGE steal. If not, this fits in with what they need to do: blow the team up by trading Francis and Hill, and build for the future around Howard and potentially Webster.

12. LA Clippers: Joey Graham, Oklahoma State.
Did you see how he did at the combine? He's literally the best athlete in the draft. It's a fact. He's a lot faster than I thought he would be. I don't know about Joey; he reminds me of a guard's version of Marcus Fizer. I thought Fizer was a can't miss star; he had such a great body! Fizer was just not smart enough. Joey's problem I think is his confidence or his drive. I kept waiting for him to take over and dominate this past season, and he never really seemed to do that. He'll have a nice career though; his game is too good, and he's too great of an athlete not to have a solid NBA career. He's got the potential if he puts it all together to be an All Star though. Here's hoping.

13. Charlotte Bobcats: Sean May, North Carolina.
If May works hard, he could easily become one of the best players in this draft. He really impressed me in the NCAA tournament this year. May is a poor man's Charles Barkley; unfortunately, he's got Barkley's work ethic, and not near as much talent as Barkley. That's not a good combination. As long as someone keeps him motivated, though, he'll be okay. I doubt the Bobcats keep this pick, though.

14. Minnesota Timberwolves: Antoine Wright, Texas A&M.
Some people have Wright as a top ten talent in the draft. However, he tested HORRIBLY athletically at the combine. I mean, he was one of the worst players there. However, two things help keep him in the lottery: 1) he's probably one of the best talents left on the board, even with questions about him, and 2) the Timberwolves need a swingman since Latrell Sprewell is fired. Best available and fits a need? Why not.

That's the Lottery. I am excited about this draft; like I said, there is some good talent here. There's good star talent, and there are several good solid players available in the later picks, too. Combine that with all the trades that will probably happen, and tonight should be exciting.

Eurotrip, Part 3B: Once More Into The Trenches, Dear Friends.

10:00am, Saturday, May 28th. I wake up without a hangover. How, do you ask? I honestly don't know. After some deliberation, I think two things saved me: 1) I purchased a liter of water that evening, and was partaking of that throughout the night. 2) Since it's hot over there, I was sweating enough that liquid was leaving me as it was coming in. Gross, yes, but possibly true. Anyway, I don't know why, because Sam and Jared drank less than me (okay, Sam drank less than me) and were both hung over.

We get moving, and grab a bratwurst and another liter of water at this convenience store across the street from us that had both for $3. We'd picked up a lovely young lady named Katie, who was there from Austin, and together we all went to check out the Deutsche Museum.

Now to get there, we had to take The Underground, or Munich's subway. The Underground is on the honor system. I swear to God. Sam saw a sign that explained that if city officials felt like people weren't buying tickets like they were supposed to, they'd start policing it and charge the SHIT out of people. I guess it's working, who knows. Anyway, the Underground was ridiculously clean. I mean, I seriously couldn't believe it. This is a subway! It's not supposed to be this nice. Props to those efficient, anal Germans.

Now, it's at this point that I should say something about the German people: so far they've been incredibly laid back, polite, and helpful. Everyone. I felt kind of bad for thinking this, but I kept thinking, "Man, how did these guys ever get so worked up as to become the Nazis?" I was seriously confused. So props to the Germans...but more on this later.

Anyway, we take the Underground (which isn't quite as well organized as the Metro, which surprised me, but was still great) to the Deutsche Museum. Basically, it's a huge Museum all about Engineering. Airplanes, rockets, ships, motors, cars, bridges, if it can be in some way classified as Engineering, they've got it here. Very cool. The stuff on bridges was really awesome, they even had a model suspension bridge for you to walk around on.

We then went to the World's largest cuckoo clock, but we got our times wrong and it wasn't going off yet. So, let's grab some lunch.

2:00pm. We go to the Waldwirtschaft, which is located by the Hofbräuhaus. We heard the food was better here. And it is AWESOME. I got this plate that had 6 different kinds of sausages on it. They also had pretzels on the table as the appetizer, like we serve bread here. You had spicy mustard and some kind of sweet and sour sauce that you could use for everything. It was OUTSTANDING.

After that we checked out the Hofbräuhaus, but didn't grab a brew there. We figured we'd be back later.

We were wrong.

Now at this point, it's hot, and I want a cold drink. Right across the street from the Waldwirtschaft is a Burger King and a McDonalds. Well, Burger King has the new Star Wars cups! So I head there to get a coke. Now this is funny, because this is the only time I had trouble with language in Germany. I go up to the nice young girl, and order a coke. "Large Coke, " I say. Should be fairly universal, right? Nope. Not a clue. But shit, it's Burger King. The cups are right there behind her! The Coke machine is right there behind her! I start pointing. She's still not getting it. I'm laughing inside, thinking to myself, "You know, I could just walk around the counter and pour it myself." I was really tempted to do that, but then she figured out that I wanted the biggest mother fucking Coca-Cola that they had in the joint.

I left with my Coke, and then went home to take a nap.

5:00pm. We go back and see the world's largest cuckoooo clock. It's built into the front of a huge Gothic church. I'm impressed with it, but Sam and Jared are not. I guess if it doesn't have digital graphics with dolby surround sound, it's not worth seeing to them. Oh well. We do a little bit of shopping (Jared needs board shorts), and head back to the Wombat, or more specifically, the Wombar. :-)

6:00pm. We head down to Happy Hour, and make a couple of great new friends from the Great White North: Chris, whose luggage was lost by the airlines (so we bought him several beers), and Anna, who was traveling by herself and had just arrived that day (we bought her several beers, too).

Originally, we had planned to meet The Aussie at the Hofbräuhaus, but then we found out that they closed at 11, on top of being on the other side of town. F that. So we went back to The Augustiner instead. Man I fricking love that place. The biggest regret of my entire trip is that I didn't get a stein from the Augustiner. I just didn't have room for it in my bag, and I was afraid of it breaking. God they were cool though.

We had a couple of brews at the big A, and started heading back to the Hostel. Now, on the way over, we passed a five star hotel with a really cool bar that had a patio on the street. They had a TON of liquor on the walls, and I realized two things: 1) it's fricking hot outside, and warm beer may do it for the Germans, but I could use a cold drink, and 2) I haven't had the good Captain in like 9 or 10 days.

In we went. It's Sam, me, Sarah (cool Aussie), Katie (Austin girl), and Anna (the pride of Canada). We order a round. Then we get a round of shots. Then Sam and I get another drink. Now at this point I should point out that the bartender--who was very cool--said that we didn't need to pay as we go, that he'd bring us the bill at the end.

I was not so inebriated that I didn't realize that this bill could easily be scary big. I think Sam could see the fear in my eyes, because he whispered that he'd help me out with whatever I needed. It was right after that that they brought the bill.

$40.

And they brought us some free fruity drink for everyone! To say I was happy was the understatement of the year. This quickly became my favorite place. And it was awesome guys. Beautiful interior, nice leather seats, and the bathroom was so cool we actually took pictures of it with Katie's camera (we're trying to get her to email the pics to us). Someday I will go back to Munich, and I will stay in that hotel. After I win the lottery.

One more funny story from the hotel: There were two INCREDIBLY beautiful blondes sitting in the booth next to us. A little older--late 20's probably. Sam's at the bar, and one gets up to get a drink, and the other goes to the restroom. Sam and the girl chat while they get their drinks, and then each comes back to their table when they have them. Sam sits next to me and whispers, "Dude. They're married!" I'm thinking that the girl made a pass at Sam and he's freaked out because she was married and was doing that. I say something to that affect. "No! You don't understand! They're married to each other!"

So finally, after all these years, I can honestly say that I've seen a hot lesbian (for those who don't know, I've always said that the legend of the hot lesbian is simply a myth).

We head back, and call it a night.

10:00am, Sunday, May 29th. Up and at em. Once again, we go get bratwurstrst and water, and today we're heading to the Olympic Park area. We take the Underground over, and will see the BMW museum first, as it is right next to Olympic Park.

11:30am. We get to the BMW museum, and let me just say this: the BMW headquarters is one of the most beautiful buildings I've ever seen in my entire life. It was incredible. Just staring at the building made you want to go out and buy a Beamer. The museum itself is being rebuilt; it will be ready in 2007. The pictures we saw of the new museum also looked incredible. Lots of cool cars, etc. I brought up Kyle's complaints about the 5 and 7 series, but fortunately no one had me arrested. There are tons of pictures, and I highly suggest you check them out.

1:00am. We strolled into Olympic Park, which yes is where the 72 Olympics were held. It was beautiful. You couldn't have asked for a better day. We climbed to the top of a hill that wasn't that high, but seemed like the highest hill in Germany--you could see FOREVER from the top of that hill. Again, several pics of the city are from there. We just spent the afternoon walking around, checking out the Olympic pools and the soccer stadium (and you think our football stadiums are big), and just enjoying the sun.

I also got to play basketball. That's right. In Europe. With Germans. Thoughts on hooping with the Germans:

* Germans love Allen Iverson. I'd say he's the second most popular NBA player after Dirk. Unfortunately for them, we all know that Allen's game is probably the WORST to model your own game after. It's funny to see all these Aryans trying to pull Iverson crossovers and stuff. Thank God they weren't trying to grow cornrolls--yet.
* The Germans taller than 6'0" all model their games after Dirk. I mean, EXACTLY model the games like him. Bend their ankles funny when they shoot, move in that slow, deliberate pace that Dirk moves at, shoot their jumpers WAY too much. The problem is, Dirk can do that cause he's 7', has the handles of someone 6', and has one of the best jumpers in the world. My advice to Germans 6'0" and taller is the same advice Azeem (Morgan Freeman) gave Robin (Kevin Costner) in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves: "Get up. Move faster."
* They all play with the International 3pt line--even at the park. I believe that's 22'0. The American 3pt line up through college and at every park is 19'9. Good for those Germans.

It was a lot of fun. They're good guys, don't talk a lot of trash, just go out and play hard. They showboated a little much, but honestly, I think part of that was cause I was there. They wanted to look cool in front of the American who could dunk.

6:00pm. We've headed back, showered, and a big group of us go grab dinner at the Italian restaurant across the street. It's at this point that I will give a shot out to our Italian brethren. Seriously, this was some of the best pizza I've ever had in my life. And the guys who ran that place--obviously real Italians--were awesome. So many stereotypes: the accent, the way they hit on every women, how laid back they were, everything. We loved them, and they liked us, too. Sam and Jared ate there so many times I can't believe they can ever eat pizza again. But trust me, it was great.

This night was out last night together. Most of our friends were on one of those bus tours of Europe together, and that was leaving first thing in the morning. Sam, Jared, and I were checking out in the morning, and leaving tomorrow night. There was a really cool Atrium/almost a greenhouse kind of thing in front of the Wombar, so we went, stole some couches from the lobby of the Wombat, and set them up there, and just hung out talking the rest of the night. Good times. I miss you guys!!!!

8:00am, Monday, May 30th. I get up early to say goodbye to our friends leaving: Anna leaves early to go meet family elsewhere in Germany; Sarah, The Aussie, and a lot of others leave on the bus tour I believe for Italy, Chris leave for God only knows where (he had his luggage back at this point, thank God).

10:00am. We pack up our crap, and check out of the Wombat. Goodbye, dear friend. Our roommates--the brothers from Tennessee--also check out, and we had to the Pinotech. Basically, these are four museums that house all of the stuff that the Nazis stole from around the world during World War II. Yeah, that's right. They haven't given it back yet. How does this work? Everyone in the world knows they have it! It's all right there, on display in a fricking museum! How have these priceless works or art, science, and culture not been returned to their rightful owners? I'm so confused.

Well, shit. It's closed on Monday. Glad we walked out here for nothing. Oh well, let's head to the English Gardens.

12:00pm. We arrive at the English Gardens, which is a large park located in the center of Munich. There's a river running through the park, and at one spot it is set up so that there are actually enough waves in the river that people can surf there. It is now that we finish my "How did these nice people become the Nazi's?" story.

So we're watching the surfers, and there's a guy kayaking too. The surfers go out one at a time, cause the river is not too wide. Well, some guy shows up to surf, gets in his wet suit, and walks up to the kayaker, and smacks him in the back of the head! Then they start SCREAMING at each other in German. Of course, we have no fricking clue what is going on; we can't understand a word they're saying. Eventually, the surfer flips the kayaker into the river (they were waiting for their turn to go on the shore)! It was really weird. And it was so fast! Everyone's just having a blast, enjoying a nice day, and out of nowhere two guys are ready to kill each other, and then it's just back to surfing.

After that, we wandered into the English Gardens and walked through the "Nude Beach". There is no beach, of course, but people will sunbathe on the banks of the river. You know all those jokes you see in movies about how nude beaches in Europe are only full of nasty old men?

Yeah, those aren't jokes. Right on.

Not that we weren't expecting that to be the case. It's just worth mentioning. I was impressed because we did see one hot topless girl; I considered that a victory. Anyway, we just strolled around the English Gardens for a while, enjoyed the day.

4:00pm. Caught a final dinner at Waldwirtschaft, which was excellent as usual. We met a priest there who spoke very bad English, but was VERY excited about the new Pope. We were in Benedict's old diocese. Anyway, at this point we went to the train station and said goodbye to out Tennessee brothers. I'm sure we did something else in there, but I don't remember what. We were exhausted, were too tired to go do a whole lot, and was just killing time until it was time for the trains to leave.

8:00pm. I'm at the train station, ready to board my 9:00pm train. I say goodbye to Sam and Jared, and thank them for inviting me to go with them. It's been a wonderful time. They're train for Italy leaves about 5 minutes after mine. I tell them I love them both, and turn to board my train to return to Paris, and then to return home the day after that.

But don't worry, my good friends. The adventure is still not over.

Not by a long shot.

Coming soon: Part 4: Trains, riots, beautiful women, airplanes: I become an action hero.

NBA Finals

Carly, don't read this.

Great. Just great. We have the best NBA season since the height of the Jordan era, and we're left with this shit. This is exactly what I was afraid of.

Last night's game was 39-38 at the half. Ben Wallace was the leading scorer with 12 points.

That's not a good thing.

I mean, congrats to the Spurs. They are a great team, they did a great job defending their title, and they really impressed me early on in the playoffs by adapting to such different styles of play. Also, the "choke job" that they pulled off after game 2 wasn't as bad as you would think--there was NO FUCKING WAY the NBA wasn't going to have Detroit win 2 of their home games. So really, they didn't "choke" until Game 6.

But still...we're left with this shit?

I'm sick to God dam death of thug basketball. I'm sick of overly physical play, I'm sick of "great defenses" which are really teams just beating the shit out of other teams. And it's the NBA's fault. They have the worst officials BY FAR of any pro sport, and they have it that way on purpose! Bill Simmons made a comment in his column the other day that the NBA penchant of fixing games by assigning certain officials to certain games is the biggest problem the NBA faces (bigger than the Lockout, which at the time was looming large). It's gotten to the point that he can predict which officials will be assigned to each playoff game, depending on what team needs to win. And he's not just bluffing, he's right! I've watched him do just that. It's insane. And it's ruining the game. Just call fouls! Don't let the Pistons get away with playing the way they play. No one wants to watch it! Come on, David! Your public is speaking!

Hopefully, it will change. Hopefully, the powers that be (David Stern, since he rules with an absolute iron fist of death) will sense that the mood of the public has changed, that we don't want any more "great defenses", and that we want teams like the Suns and Mavericks to have a chance to play basketball the way it was meant to be played. Football is a sport about brute strength, hurting an opponent, and being overly physical. Basketball is a sport about grace, athleticism, and skill. Let's stop getting the two confused.


One more thing: sorry Timmy, but there is no fucking way you were the MVP. Manu was the difference in that game last night; he was the one who provided the spark for the Spurs to finally pull away. And since he was without question the outstanding player in Games 1 and 2, how does that mean Timmy was the MVP? ABC agrees with me...notice they grabbed Manu after the game, not Duncan. Hey, you somewhat redeemed yourself for your Game 5 showing, so good for you. But MVP? Sorry. No way.

Well, what a disappointment. I should be writing about a fantastic finish to the best season since the prime of the Jordan Era, and instead it's the same old bullshit. But the good thing about this is that the winds of change are blowing. I think, like every team but the Spurs, that

there's always hope for next year.

NBA Finals, Game 5

Can you believe I've gone this long without writing about the NBA? Sure, until last night, these Finals have been so bad that we've had NOTHING to write about, but still! You'd think I've been going through major withdrawl pains!

Well, I have been. And I can't take it anymore.

Did you see the game? A fantastic overtime BATTLE that ended with the spurs winning by one. And one player cemented his case for the Hall of Fame last night. One player stepped up when his team needed him most, and proved--once again--that he is the differencemaker, that he is a true champion--one of the greatest champions ever.

Tim Duncan? Manu? Ben or Rasheed Wallace? Rip Hamilton? Chauncey Billups?

Hell no. Robert Horry.

He did it again. Horry COMPLETELY dominated the second half and overtime. Several times I found myself saying, "Wow, Tim Duncan is playing himself out of the Hall of Fame, and Robert Horry is playing his way in it."

I've been a Robert Horry fan since he came into the league. I believe that the 1994 and 1995 Rockets championships teams are some of the best in the history of the NBA, and Horry is a big reason for that. It worked out perfectly for him: he learned as soon as he entered the league that if he sat back and just did what he is good at, he'd be a winner forever. And that's what he's done his entire career. He is totally unselfish; the man sits bake, waits, and then absolutely KILLS you when it's time for him to do so.

I mean, how many times does he have to do it before it stops being luck? Some guys have a knack for knowing The Moment. I've written before about how people who truly know basketball know it is a game of Momentum. I promise you, if you told that to Horry, he would understand. Last night, he saw the piss streaming down Tim Duncan's leg, saw Manu standing there with that dazed look on his face, and saw Parker getting bent over and spanked like a French schoolgirl and said, "Well, if I don't stop them, no one will." Every time the Pistons made a run, he made a huge play. It's not a coincidence people. You don't do that for SIX CHAMPIONSHIP TEAMS--and how many more would he have won if not for Shaq and Kobe being idiots--and it just be luck. For example: when Resheed made one of the worst plays in the history of basketball and doubled Manu, leaving Horry open for the killer three, did you have any doubt that it was going in? Any at all? I would have bet every penny I had that that was money. Hell, it rattled around a little bit, and that surprised me. The man was just incredible.

So I fully support the "Robert Horry for the Hall of Fame" movement that the media is starting. If Charles Barkely gets penalized for not winning a ring, then shouldn't Horry be rewarded for being the catalyst of six championship teams? I think so.

Just my thoughts.

Eurotrip, Part 3A: Sieg Heil, Mother Fuckers.

7:00am, Friday, May 27, Munich, Germany. We arrive at the train station, and are IMMEDIATELY greeted by strawberry tarts, some kind of strawberry gelatinish thing that looks GREAT, bratwurst, and hamburgers. And not fast food McDonalds hamburgers, but real beef burgers that are cooked in front of you.

In other words, Germany is starting off on the right foot.

We get some much needed water--and, of course, a strawberry tart--and then IMMEDIATELY head to the ticket counter to book our trains to Paris (me) and Italy (them). Sam and Jared get a sleeper car. Even though I'm returning to Paris on a Monday night at 9:00pm--not exactly peak times--the sleeper cars are already sold out.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

I seriously said that to her. I didn't mean to, it just kind of slipped out. Remember, I've had a rough night. Fortunately, she either didn't hear me, didn't speak enough English, or didn't care, because she didn't really react at all. I paid for my train, and left.

So we walk outside the train station, and are amazed. It looks kind of like we're in America. I mean, not exactly like it. But it was a very welcome feeling to see an architecture style that you recognize. It was strange, because I immediately understood what I was looking at: the US had rebuilt Munich 40 years earlier, as part of the Marshall Plan. So it was a very weird feeling to see that. My first real, kind of physical touch with something I'd studied so well, World War II.

Well, as we're standing there, an American walked up to us and started talking to us. There's a little strip mall right as you leave the train station, and the first two shops are bike tours. Both bike tours have guys out front handing out fliers. The guy gives us a flier, we chat for a moment, and move on. The next guy hands us a flier, and we chat with him.

Now at this point I should point out a bit of our situation here in Munich. We came to Paris with hostel reservations, a decent grasp of the language, and with me having done a lot of research on Paris. Also, Jared has spent about a month in Paris two years ago. In other words, we came fairly prepared.

In Munich, we were supposed to meet with Bob's (middle brother) best friend. We'll call him "Ed", since his name is Ed. He's stationed in Munich. Well, Ed was supposed to meet us in Munich. Yep, you guessed it. Ed didn't meet us in Munich.

Now my grandfather speaks German, and I know a couple of phrases in German. Unfortunately, I was having a REALLY hard time going from English to French to German. I had tried reading and picking up some of the language on the train, and I just couldn't pick up German the way I had been picking up French. It was too soon, and it was too different a language, and plus I didn't want to just dump my French, as I was returning to France.

In other words, I was worried we were going to be in some shit.

But no! We asked the guy handing out bike fliers where we should stay. First, the hostels were literally right across the street. Awesome. Second, he recommended which one to go to. Third, next to the two bike shops was a Tourism Office. We picked up some city maps there, though unfortunately we weren't helped by the smoking hot girl who worked there.

We proceeded to the first hostel, the Euroyouth.

God damit, I just wrote about three paragraphs and the page crashed. Son of a...

Anyway, back to the Euroyouth. It's an older building, but the guy and girl behind the desk are Brits and are cool. They have a room to leave your bags that is video monitored, there's a couple cute girls checking in, and there is a bar on the first floor.

Unfortunately, they are booked for Friday night. However, we get to make reservations for Saturday and Sunday, and we don't have to pay to make the reservations. We will now go to buildings over to the brand new hostel, the Wombat (the guide told us about the new Wombat, but said he liked the Euroyouth better, and that it was cheaper).

Now I know what you're thinking. The way things have gone so far on the trip--especially when it comes to lodging--you're ready for a long tale of woe. I mean, for God sake, we're going to a hostel named after an Australian rat. You're probably ready for me to tell you about how we ended up sleeping in a bench across the street at the trainstation Friday night.

Well, my friends, there is no need to fear for our well being. For Fortune's beautiful face was shining upon us our entire time in Munich, and we bathed in her dazzling countenance.

We walk into the Wombat, which we find from our Aussie and Brit employees is barely a year old. The cost for the same type of room as at the Euroyouth? A whopping $1. That's right. One more euro. They give you clean sheets every morning for your bed. They also have a room to lock your shit up in, and they have private lockers in each room. AND they have showers in each room! No group showers! AND in the building of the Wombat is the Wombar! AND you get coupons for three free drinks at the Wombar when you check in! AND THERE IS HAPPY HOUR FROM 6-8 EVERY FRICKING DAY WITH $1 BEERS!!!!!!!

Eh. It'll do for a night.

We check in and go up to our room, which is very clean and very nice. There are 6 beds in a room: 3 bunk beds. Duh Duh!

Now, of course, the bunk beds are maybe 6'3" long. To be honest, I'm probably being generous here. So I must have the top bunk in order to fit in these beds. Now, the beds--which are brand new--are basically IKEA beds, which we all know what that means: they look and feel like they are going to collapse at any minute. Every time I climbed in or out of bed, I was sure it was going to collapse and kill me. So Mom and Dad, if you're reading this, don't worry: (nevermind the fact that were was 4 other men in my room, one of whom was my baby brother) there was no way I was having sex on this bed. Just not happening. Sam actually did a really funny impression of someone doing that when he hopped in his bunk, and I seriously was afraid the first time that that would be enough to do the bed in. However, the beds were very comfortable; much better than we'd been expecting.

So we get situated, and there is one thing I really want to do: go work out. At this point, between Ryan's wedding (which was the weekend before we left) and the trip, it's been a full week since I've lifted. We ask our good friends at the Wombat if there is a place, and they know of none. We then go back to the Euroyouth and ask them, and the cute girl at the counter points us to a Beer Garden.

Now at this point I think it's fairly safe to say we've hit some sort of language barrier (even though she spoke very good English). However, it's also at this point that I'm thinking two things: 1) It's Germany; surely if we just walk around, I'll see a gym. This is the land of Hanz and Franz, for God's sake! (They might have been Austrian, but whatever, it's close enough.) 2) The lifting thing isn't going to happen, so we might as well get out and see the city.

1:00pm. It's off to the Augustiner Beer Garden we go. It's an absolutely BEAUTIFUL day; not a cloud in the sky, 75 degreesish. Surprise surprise, there's no weight lifting at the beer garden, but we got to check it out and now know where one is. We then just walk back to the hostel by taking a different route to see some more of the city, and stop by an AWESOME internet cafe that is a block away from the hostel. Props to the German keyboards: the only difference between those and American keyboards are the y and z are juxtaposed. Don't even get me started on the French keyboards. I didn't even try to type by touch; it was all hunting and pecking there.

Anyway, it's now time to start on my second quest of the day: finding a cardboard tube. Now fans of the Cardboard Tube Samurai (keep hitting next to see the exciting conclusion) are probably afraid that I have marked someone for death. But you have nothing to fear; I'd bought several AWESOME paintings/sketches in Paris that I wanted to roll and keep in there.

First, I go to a copy center (Jared and Sam have left to go see a church we spotted). No dice. Next, I go to the post office. Surely I will meet with success here! Unfortunately, no. How a post office doesn't have cardboard tubes I don't know, but apparently the Germans only use them as weapons, and God knows the last thing we want to do is hand German Postal Employees weapons. However, at the post office I find one of my most valuable pieces of information: Hertie.

Hertie is Munich's largest department store, and is located right next to the post office. I couldn't make this up guys; EVERYTHING we needed was a 5 minute walk from us. Unbelievable. Anyway, I digress. So I go into Hertie, which is just like an American department store. Think Sears, except even bigger. So I acquire my cardboard tube, and then an epiphany strikes me: I should ask the guys in sporting goods if they know where a gym is. So I travel to sporting goods, and the gentlemen up there is kind enough to point me in the direction of where he thinks a gym is. Okay, I'm thinking. That'll do. I then go check out their clothes to see if they have a bunch of Dirk stuff. It is here that I find a pair of authentic TEAM USA Olympic basketball shorts for $27 Euro. In America, these would go for about $80. And as we remember, I left all my athletic shorts at home, which is especially traumatic for me, since all I wear when I'm not dressed up is basketball shorts.

I told you, Fortune was smiling upon us.

I'm so excited about my find, I'm practically giddy. I go down to where the guy suggested I look, and there's nothing there. It's actually a huge shopping area, but really cooly done. It's in a lot of older buildings that looked like they survived the war but had been renovated during the Marshall Plan. Cool place to stroll around.

It's not about 3:00pm, and I'm supposed to meet Sam and Jared back to the hostel. So back I go!

3:00pm. Meet up with Sam and Jared. Now, Jared's nickname is "Grandpa", because apparently he can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. So Jared takes a nap, and Sam and I decide to explore South of the hostel (all of spelunking--okay, there were no caves involved, but I love that word--has thus far been north of the hostel). So we're running around a street south of the hostel, and find--you guessed it--a fricking gym. I have to pay $15, and there's no AC, but I get a really good workout in.

One problem with the gym: ummmm...how do I put this? Let's just say there were no women in there. Now, there were only about ten people in there while I was there. But none of them were women. And one of the dudes was wearing one of those skintight spandex workout suits that has straps over your shoulders and is cut out from the chest area. You know, the thing you see in movies where Americans are making fun of Europeans, and you laugh and think, "My God, no one in the world would ever really where that." Well, unfortunately for the rest of us, we thought wrong.

But whatever. Finally got a good workout in. I was happy. One other funny thing about the gym was the music they were playing, which held true of our entire trip to Europe. They love American music over there, but the most recent stuff they have is AT LEAST 5 years old. For instance, I heard Dre's song, The Next Episode, which came out in October 2000. Seriously. And that was the most recent song. I lifted weights to Jennifer Lopez (She's still Jenny from the block, in case you were wondering), Depeche Mode (this didn't bother me; I would have been surprised to NOT hear Depeche Mode over there), Madonna (and I'm talking classic Madonna, from the 80s), and Cyndi Lauper (that's right: girls do just wanna have fun). Quite a collection there. And they really like JLo over there. Nothing would crack me up more than when some guy in a nice BMW or Benz (which everyone drives) would roll up with his windows down, BLASTING JLo. Wow. Stay hard, buddy.

So I head back to the hostel, catch a shower (btw, as there is no AC in Europe, the only way to stay cool is cold showers. A cold shower had never felt so good.) Anyway, get done with that, and grab a quick nap.

It's almost time for Happy Hour.

6:45pm. We oversleep, and cover it up with "we want to be fashionably late" to happy hour. We head downstairs, and something very dramatic happens: I pop my beer cherry.

That's right. Up to this point, I had tried, but never finished, a beer in my life. Of course, we're talking about American beers, which I seriously don't understand how anyone could drink that. I just don't get it guys. It's revolting. Anyway, so I have my first beer, a Paulaner. It was good. Nothing great, but good. It's not going to replace liquor for me, but since I'm in Germany, and it's a state law that you have to drink beer, well, here you go. It's also $1, so shit.

We meet a ton of cool people at Happy Hour; pretty much everyone in the hostel gathers down here before they go out each night. But most importantly, we meet Sarah and The Aussie. Sarah became one of our best friends on the trip; she is also Australian, and was one of the nicest people we met over there. I swear guys, Aussies are the coolest people on the planet. Anyway, The Aussie was this guy who had such a thick Australian accent that we could barely understand him. Super nice guy, really funny, really laid back. We had a ton of fun with him; unfortunately, we never did catch his name. So he quickly became The Aussie.

Anyway, Sarah told us they were going on a Pub Crawl at 8, and we decided to go. It was one of the best decisions of our trip. We met in front of the Internet Cafe, and paid $15 to go. The guy doing the announcing was British, and it was all the beer you could drink as you walked to the beer gardens. There was this guy from Jersey carrying the beer; he was kind of a small guy, but I would not recommend fucking with him, because he carried a shitload of beer around all night. I was impressed. He's going to have some major back problems when he gets older if he does that for a few years. After the first stop, they also served Jager shots. That's right: someone was giving me all you can drink Jager. For free. Ahhhhhhhh...

Our first stop was the Augustiner, which was the beer garden we'd walked through that morning. It was awesome. The beer garden was just incredible. There were literally 5000 people sitting there, eating sausages and sauerkraut, drinking beer, and hanging out as the sun set. It was such a peaceful, beautiful setting. Nice to see a community just hanging out together, you know? Anyway, the steins probably weighed at least ten pounds, possibly 15. It was awesome. It was truly a cup that was sized for me. There's no way you don't feel like a man when you're drinking one of those. And the beer was incredibly good. Like, I actually LIKED it. We're having a great time, at this point we're hanging out with two British girls who I could have listened to talk all day. They were cracking me up.

I'll skip to the end. We were supposed to go to 5 beer gardens, I think we only went to three. Maybe four at the most. We were pretty rowdy at the last bar; people were starting to throw things, and a couple of soccer hooligans had started screaming at each other. So our guide wisely cut off our night a bit early. At the end of the evening, I was chosen to compete in a "who can down a beer the fastest" competition. I'd struck up a bit of a friendship with the guide as the evening went on, so that's why I think he choose me. I found it very ironic that out of the 40 or so people who were in our group, almost all of whom had certainly drank plenty of beers in their life, the beer virgin was chosen to participate. I almost won, too--I was one gulp away--but a Mexican guy beat me. Much props to our brother from the south. I was actually really happy to see a Mexican, it was a little taste of home.

Now, the Euroyouth bar stays open until about 5:00am. So we went back there, hung out for a while, and finally crashed out I'm guessing around 4:00am. It was a great night.

And with that, I'm going to split Part 3 into Part 3A. It shouldn't take as long to tell the rest of the Munich trip. So enjoy, and I'll see you soon with the rest of our time in Munich!

Eurotrip, Addendum: Pics

Click here for trip pics.

They are horribly organized, and Sam deleted a lot to make room for his pics of Italy (little punk). I'll try to organize them better for you later.

*****Addendum to the Addendum: I will try to organize the pics better, and will throw in comments for all of the ones I was at. Sorry it's such a mess right now. Talk to you soon!

Eurotrip, Part 2: Ah, Gay Paris.

5:30pm, Tuesday, May 24. Paris, France. We arrive at Gare du Nord, or the north train station in Paris. We are truly strangers in a strange land.

First thing fist: You know in The Bourne Identity, when there is the really cool board showing all the trains coming in and out, and it's not an LED screen but it flips over cards super fast and makes a cool noise? Well, they had one here! I was so excited about that. I think that sound is so cool! The trip is starting out on the right foot.

Props to the Metro: Even though I'm a good Texan who would rather die than give up his car for a subway, the Metro was bad ass. It was dirty, but not filthy, so it was okay, and it was so fricking convenient. We could get a 3 day all you can use pass for $18. The $ sign will stand for the Euro for the duration of this post, btw. Anyway, pretty good deal. It was convenient, the maps were excellent, and it was easy to get everywhere. So much love to the Metro.

Anyway, so Jared (Sam's best friend) and his father had made reservations for us at some hostel. Very nice of them, thanks! However, Jared is a bit concerned because he did it online, and he doesn't have a confirmation number or anything like that. Hmmm...my Jedi senses have a bad feeling about this...

We get to our "hostel". First of all, it's probably in the deepest, darkest ghetto in Paris. The address is a project...like a tower project. We walk inside, and it's smoky, dark, and a lot of weird, not hostel looking people are walking around. Now, I've never been in a hostel, but I'm thinking this is a safe bet.

Sam and Jared are, in a word, terrified. So I take charge, and find some guy with the Frenchiest French accent I've ever heard (he was awesome, he sounded EXACTLY like the stereotypical French bad guy in an American movie. He even walked with a limp! And smoked a FAT Cuban!) who informs us that this isn't the hostel, that this is the Office for the hostel, where they book reservations and take care of paperwork. Okay, I'm thinking. We can get this taken care of. Then my new French buddy says, "But I don't think you're hostel opens until July."

Well, shit.

Fortunately, I'm not kidding when I say that this was my new French buddy. At this point I'd like to give some love to my mother, who actually has a degree in French. So growing up we learned just enough French to not look like assholes while in France, and our accents weren't too terrible. Well, at least no one made fun of us to our faces, and I'm sure they would have had they been terrible. Anyway, for whatever reason, me and this guy hit it off, and we had a good time discussing Cuban cigars, Embargos, and how the French were going crazy and becoming paranoid like America (he brought this up, not me). In the end, he booked us a hotel, printed out some maps on how to get there, gave us detailed directions, and sent us on our merry way. So thanks again, my shady French buddy whose name I wish I knew!

7:00pm. We arrive at the Hotel du Puree. For those of you, Paris rates all it's Hotels on a 5 star scale, and sets the prices for each type of hotel. One is the lowest, five is the highest. Guess where we're staying. On the bright side, it is only $20 a night for each of us. Not bad. And we get our own room, so we don't have to worry as much about someone stealing our stuff. It's also on the third floor, so we can leave the window open to let air in as we go out.

Problem: the hotel closes at midnight. Like, the front door is locked, and is not reopened until 6:30am. Hmmmm...this could be an issue.

So we just got to Paris, we've finally lost our huge ass bags, and what should we do after eating dinner (Chinese place two stores down)? It's time to find some wine, my friends.

So we go to the French version of a convenience store that is across the street from our hotel, and buy a bottle of wine for $8. It's probably the best wine I've ever had in my life. It was unbelievable. We're just walking through the streets in our neighborhood, checking out the scene, and passing the bottle around. It was great. And no, we're not alcoholics.

I end up calling it a night early, and go get in bed about 10:30pm. Sam and Jared are going to go out some more. Unfortunately, when we took the train down, we passed through a time zone and had not realized it yet. So when Sam and Jared came home at 11:40pm, it's really 12:40am, and the door is locked. They are really pissed though, and think it's 11:40, and keep ringing the doorbell until the propetier answers. He's less than thrilled to be awakened. However, he likes us, so he's not too mad.

Good night, Paris.

10:00am Wednesday, May 25th. Time to get up and get moving! First we go to the l'Arc de Triomphe , which was incredible. Check out Sam's pics for some cool pictures, there was a mural of Saint Michael leading some soldiers into battle that I particularly liked. I was just very impressed; I thought the architecture was incredible, and there was a sense of...nobility that I really liked there. There's also an unknown soldier from World War I buried under the arch with an eternal flame that is to commemorate all soldiers who died defending France, much like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in the US. It's quite moving. Just a very impressive site.

The top of the Arc was awesome, too. The Arc is literally the nexus of Paris; all roads lead to it. You could see an incredible amount of landmarks from the Arc; again, check out Sam's pictures. Strangely, what was most impressive was probably the traffic going around the Arc. It's a circle, of course, and there are six lanes as you drive around. The inside lines have the right of way. Meaning that someone from the inside will suddenly cut across five lanes of traffic, and everyone else has to give them room. It was unbelievable to watch. Those of you who know me know I'm a pretty aggressive driver, and I think I'm a pretty good driver. I have faith in my driving skills anywhere I've gone in the US.

There's no fucking way I would ever drive a car in France.

Those people are crazy. Absolutely insane. I am in awe of their driving skills, because to be able to drive in Paris without killing themselves, other drivers, or pedestrians truly blows my mind. I wouldn't even own a car if I lived over there. Watching the Parisians drive was truly a look into the Mouth of Madness.

Anyway, after we'd just sat at the top of the Arc and watched the traffic for about 15 minutes, we went down the Champs-Elysees, which is basically the Rodeo Drive of Paris. It was really funny going into every store, because right by the door they have the hulking African bodyguard in a dark suit with the Secret Service earpiece. However, since we were not European, I was bigger than all of the bodyguards, and Sam was taller than all of them. I found it really amusing. Whenever I catch people trying to physically intimidate other people it just cracks me up for some reason. Anyway, it was funny to see how the other half of Parisians live.

We got done with that, and went to the Eiffel Tower. We rode up to the top, and I have this to say: it's a big mother fucking metal tower. Sorry. That's it. Maybe if a girlfriend had been with me, I would have felt differently, but I just was very unimpressed with that puppy.

It was here that Jared got lost, and instead of going outside and waiting in the middle of a wide open area where we got our tickets, and where it would be really easy to see Sam and I since we are 6" taller than everyone else, Jared decided to go home. So Sam and I spent about 2 hours looking for him before we found an American, begged their cell phone off of them, and called Jared.

We did take time to go to the MusÃe de l'Homme, which is across the Trocadero river, and has an INCREDIBLE water fountain in front of it. It was cool to walk around there.

Well, we've left Jared by his lonesome long enough. Time to head back to the hotel.

9:00pm. We're on our way to meet my friend Tracie for dinner. We going to this really nice French restaurant, and do the sit on the street corner and eat thing. The dinner is delicious; I have rabbit, and it tastes like a more tender chicken. Much love to Tracie for choosing such a great place for dinner. We then go out and hang out with her at a really cool Irish Pub. Very nice evening, and it was great to see you again Tracie. I'm sure Sam enjoyed seeing you, too, and probably more than the last time he saw you, when he threw up on your shoes.

3:00am. We've just gotten home by cab (yes, the cabbie did rip us off, but only a little bit) and now have a problem. It's 3:00am. The hotel is locked until 6:30am.

Now at this point, I'd like to remind you that we are on the third floor. I'd also like to remind you that we left our window open because it's hot, and there's no such thing as AC in Europe. So we're sitting there when Sam and I have this exchange:

Sam: "We can climb up to our window."
Michael: "You're out of your fucking mind. There's no way."
Sam: "Yes, there is. There are bars on the first floor window, a place to stand on the second floor, and you can jump up, grab the windowsill, and pull yourself in from there. Jared and I can act as a crash pad if you fall."
Michael: "If I fall? Why am I going first?"
Sam: "Because you will have to pull Jared up."
Michael: "Did you not notice there is a police station across the street?"
Sam: "It's 6 shops down. And besides, they just brought some people in. They'll be busy."

Of course, being the more mature, older, and wiser brother, I decided that, what the Hell, it's 3:00am in Paris, who gives a fuck. Sam was right; getting to the second floor was easy. What was deceptive was the height of the window. It was 12 to 13 feet above the second floor railing. Which means jumping up there to grab it was out of the fucking question. So I climbed back down, and we walked around Paris til 6:30am. It was a nice night, we stayed at a cafe for a while, got propositioned by French hookers (no), and got to see the sun rise in Paris. Good times.

10:00am, Thursday, May 25th. We check out of our hotel, and lug all of our shit to the Louvre. The Louvre was, in a word, amazing. This was the part of Paris I was most looking forward to seeing, and it did not disapoint. We walked in, and thank the good Lord they had a bag drop off where we could leave all of our crap. We asked the ticket lady if we could see the entire museum in a day, and she responded, "If you spent 30 seconds looking at each exhibit, it would take you 3 months to see the entire museum." In other words, we didn't buy the ticket for the special Napoleon Exhibit.

We saw so many incredible paintings and sculptures, it was just amazing. The building itself is incredible; I could have spent all day walking around the castle and observing the grounds. We saw the Mona Lisa, and now that I have finally seen it in person, I can say what I've been saying for years: what is the big deal with that painting? I just don't get it. We saw the Venus, which was incredible. Anyone who goes to Paris needs to plan on spending at least one full day at the Louvre. That's the bare minimum. It's great.

3:00pm. We go across the street to another French cafe to grab some lunch, and am served by yet another rude French waiter. I'll wait til Europtrip Part 3 to address the French/Parisian reputation for rudeness, but I will take this moment to tell you know that everything you've heard about what horrible human beings French waiters are is absolutely 100% true. With the exception of the waiter at the nice restaurant Tracie took us too, every French waiter we had was an arrogant son of a bitch who took pleasure on looking down at everyone he "served". In that, I'll give the French waiters some props: they don't hate Americans. They hate everyone, equally and without prejudice. And I don't think it really matters if you speak French or not. They are haughty, arrogant, and rude to everyone. This guy was no exception.

Funny part of this meal: All of our sandwiches cost about $4.70. Jared ordered a coke, which was served in a nice Pepsi glass, with ice. The cost? $6.50. That's almost $9 American with the exchange rate. I'm sorry, but I was making fun of him so bad. There was a McDonald's across the street; I walked into the McDonalds and got a Medium coke for $2 there, just to make fun of Jared. That's the kind of friend I am.

And yes people, a Medium Coke at McDonalds with NO REFILLS is $2.00, or $2.67 American. And that's the cheapest place to find a Coke in Europe. In other words, Coke is making a KILLING in Europe.

Anyway, after that, we went back to the Louvre, and finished looking at that until closing time at 6:00pm.

6:00pm. The Louvre is closed, so we grab our stuff, and head to Starbucks. We hang out there for about 2 hours, because we are fricking exhausted. Finally, we have Buffalo Burgers (yes, real Buffalo meat. It was good, a little tougher than regular burgers. Go with Medium Rare on your Buffalo Burgers), have the rudest waiter we've had yet, and head to the train station. It's time to head to Munich.

10:00pm. We arrive at the trainstation, and have no trouble getting on our train. Unfortunately, it is RIDICULOUSLY hot. Sweltering. And our car is packed (all 6 seats filled): 3 of us, 2 by a nice Spanish couple, and the last filled with the American stereotype of a Frenchman: an ugly bastard who looks like he hasn't showered in weeks, immediately asks us if we speak French and acts offended when he finds out we don't, and constantlyy finds a way to look down his nose at us even though Sam and I tower above him. It's amazing how some people can do that. Anyway, I get even more frustrated as I go take a walk after about an hour on the train (it's an 8 hour ride) and realize that only one other room has 4 people in it, and the rest have 2 or 3.

Yeah, I'm pissed.

I'm also getting dehydrated. I find out that there is no dining car, and the Europeans have never heard of a water fountain, one of America's greatest inventions. It's so hot and cramped in the car that there is no way I can fall asleep, I'm sweating so much that for the 5 minutes or so I do doze I'm having dreams of water, and we've still got several hours to go before we reach Munich. Killing the Frenchman sitting across from me is looking more and more like justifiable homicide in my mind.

4:00am. Thank God. The train has stopped, and I see vending machines. I'm sure they have water there. And if it's soda water, I'll snap and kill EVERYBODY.

A word on soda water, or water with gas. Be forewarned, my friends who have never been to Europe: If you go to a restaurant and ask for water, you will not get tap water, and usually won't get NATURAL water (typically an Evian bottle). You'll get Soda water. This vile substance is Sprite, minus the lemon lime, minus the sugar. That's it. That's the best way I can describe it. I don't know why the Europeans drink it--this piss makes American beer taste good, I swear to God--and I don't see a reason for having it. Why would you want Sprite or 7Up, minus the lemon lime, and minus the sugar? Why not drink Sprite or 7Up? I'm truly at a loss for what they see in it. So if you go to Europe, and you want tap water, order Tap Water, or Water No Gas. If you are buying Bottled water, make sure it says Natural, or make sure there are no bubbles when you turn the bottle upside down. It's the only way to be safe.

Anyway, I get to the machine, and they do have water! For $1.20! I'M SAVED!

But wait! It doesn't take paper money! That's right, $1 and $2 Euro are coins. The first paper money starts with $5. And this will only take coins. And yes, you guessed it: I have no coins. I'll need to run back on the train and wake Sam and/or Jared in order to get coins. It's at this point that I should point out that I have no fucking idea how long this train is staying at this station, and I have no idea if the doors will stay open once the train starts to pull away. I also haven't heard any whistles to alert me to when the train will be leaving, nor any flashing lights, or anything to tell my dumb American ass, "Hey crackah, get back on the train."

Just worth pointing out.

It was okay though. I went back, got money from someone, bought a bottle of water, the three of us drank enough to make it to Munich, and then I made Sam move into the middle seat across from the Frenchman so I could get a couple hours of sleep before we arrived in Paris. Before I fell asleep, I swore that the first thing we would do in Munich was get my tickets back to Paris (to fly home) reserved, so I could get a sleeper car and have a bed to sleep in on the way back.

And with that, we departed France.

Coming soon: Eurotrip, Part 3: Sieg Heil, Mother Fuckers.

Eurotrip, Part 1: The Plane and Jolly Old London Town

Guys, I'm ridiculously swamped this week, and I'm fighting a bit of a cold, so that's why you haven't heard from me in so long. We've got so much to cover too! Episode III, Europe, NBA playoffs, women (yes, I need to write about you), and more! Ahhh! We'll start with Europe.

I think I'm going to do this as somewhat of a running diary. Times will be estimated. If this isn't working, I'll write the rest in a different style.

5:00am Monday, May 23rd. Irving, Texas. Sam and I are going to bed. We're getting up at 8:00am to go get breakfast, get my hair cut, and be ready for the guy to pick us up at 10:00am. For those of you who don't know us, I'm 6'7", and Sam is 6'6". We're scared to death of our 8 hour plane ride, so the plan is to stay up all night, and be so exhausted that we just pass out on the plane. We've been up packing and doing laundry all night. Since I'm a procrastinator and a night owl anyway, this has been fun for me, and I think Sam's the same way.

10:00am. We've had a nice big breakfast at Grandys (we had no idea when we were going to get to eat, so All You Can Eat Breakfast Buffet, here we come!). A shout out to Super Shuttle here: the guy was supposed to pick us up at 10:00am, and he called at 10:00:05am. I mean, we couldn't believe it.

Noon. We're at the airport, and I just realized I left my Mavericks and OSU basketball shorts at home. The only shorts I have with me are one pair of Khaki shorts. Shit. Way to start strong. And there goes impressing all the German women with my Mavs shorts.

1:00pm. Flight leaves on time, I immediately fall asleep and sleep damn near the whole time to Raleigh, North Carolina.

3:00pm. Raleigh, North Carolina. Raleigh International Airport isn't as big as Love Field. It's not even close. There's one ACC shop here, looks like 3, maybe 4 restaurants/bars, AND THAT'S IT. I don't think I've ever been in an airport this small. How the fuck is this an International Airport? Are we going to die? Can a plane leaving here really get me to London?

On a good note, I get my last Captain and Coke here. Ahhhh...I'll miss you, old friend.

4:00pm. We're leaving Raleigh, and will arrive in London at 7:00am. We're flying a Boeing 777, and it looks very new. It's awesome. TVs in the seat in front of you, and you are provided with headphones. They've got like ten radio stations, two or three TV stations, and two movies going on the flight. I'm impressed. Also, I've got an aisle seat, the seat next to me is open, and there is decent leg room here. I'm happy.

I watched In Good Company, and I'd really wanted to see it ever since Topher made the comment in Ocean's 12, "Dude, I TOTALLY mailed it in in that Denis Quaid movie." I also thought it looked like kind of a funny movie. Well, I was wrong. It was kind of depressing, actually. I just felt misled about what kind of movie it was.

I fucking love that Lifehouse song, "You and Me". If you haven't heard it, go check it out. It was playing on the radio on the plane.

There's a blonde British girl in front of me. Cute, but not hot. I end up talking to her for a while, and am surprised to realize that yes, I would sleep with her (quick aside: sleep means sleep with and kiss, not have sex with. Sleep means sleep, sex means sex. I hate how when you say you slept with someone, everyone assumes you had sex. Drives me crazy. Sorry, back to the trip...). Why are foreign accents so cute and attractive? I don't even like the British accent that much. I seriously am confused here. Can anyone explain this to me? I'd love to see comments.

Fuck you American Airlines. I'm pissed at them for another reason which I won't go into here, but now I'm mad at them because they've gotten rid of free booze on international flights. Not only that, but they want $5 for those rinky dink glasses they use. Is that even a shot? I hate you, American. But thank you for getting me to Europe safely.

Why yes, Sam and I do need pillows for the trip. Why yes, these small sized pillows from the airplane would do nicely, and why yes, two do happen to fit in my day pack...

7:00am Tuesday, May 24th. London, England. Okay, the plane just touched down, and I swear to God the pilot almost flipped the plane on its right side as we landed. Without question, that was the worst landing I've ever experienced in my life, and was probably the scariest moment I've ever had on an airplane. Wow. Let's work on that, okay buddy?

We hop on the train from the airport to the Chunnel station, and I start conversing with an attractive Danish lady sitting across from me. We have the following exchange:
"So what brings you to England?"
"I'm here on vacation."
"Well why in the Hell did you come to England, then?"

It's at this time that I should point out that it was a beautiful British day: 45 degrees Fahrenheit, and drizzling to raining. Lovely. I should also point out that I liked her. A lot.

Every Brit wearing a tie has purple or pink in the tie. EVERY SINGLE ONE. It's incredible. Most of their suits have some lavender or pink in them, too. Is this a law? Do you have to wear those colors in London? I'm very confused. And I'm not trying to question the Brits' manhood here, but seeing that many guys dressed like that made me, well, let's just say I have a little bit more of an idea of what it must be like to be in prison.

Props to the British ladies, however: you are fricking HOT! Wow! I must say in hindsight, I was MUCH more impressed with British women than with French women. And very few instances of bad teeth, too! Here's something Sam and I concluded, and worked very much in their favor: British women wear clothes to make their bodies look better. Here's what I mean. In America, most of the women are infatuated with the Cosmo/Model/Waife look (not a fan), and try to dress like that, even if their bodies are not like that. In England, the women dressed to accentuate whatever their best feature was. I must say, their way is better.

And riding boots, riding boots everywhere! That is SO FRICKING HOT.

So we get our Chunnel tickets, and have a few hours to kill. We go see the Thames, which is just as filthy as everything I've read. In fact, I must say that London is the filthiest city I've ever seen, and I've been in some dirty ghettos in my life. There is graffiti everywhere. I mean literally on everything. There also seems to be trash everywhere. Excuse me, rubbish. I saw a billboard that actually referred to "rubbish". I seriously laughed out loud.

Checked out Big Ben, meaning we walked up to it, said wow, and took a picture. It is pretty cool...what can you say, it's a big mother fucking clock.

We went to Westminster Abbey next. It's right across the street from Big Bend. There were a lot of signs saying, "Stop killing our children!", and we eventually realized they were about the war, not about abortion or something like that. Let's just say we were glad that we weren't wearing our "Everything's bigger in Texas" shirts. Don't think Bush was too popular with the crowd there.

Westminster Abbey was pretty impressive. The kings carved into the church were fantastic, you'll see the pics once Sam gets back and we can load all of our pics online. There are also a bunch of statues of legendary leaders in front of Westminster Abbey. We were surprised to find that a US President made the list. Can you guess which one? I'll tell you later.

One thing I forgot to mention: before we went to the Thames, we stopped and got breakfast. An incredibly beautiful woman had highly recommended fish and chips to me back home before we left, so naturally I tried to get fish and chips. Unfortunately, it was 10:00am, and the friers weren't turned on. Here's what the British "Big Country Breakfast" was: Two eggs sunny side up, toast, a pork sausage, and a TON of baked beans. It wasn't bad...but it wasn't great. I'm very disappointed I didn't get fish and chips, as I love fish, and I'm sure I would be a fan of the chips.

Anyway, so that was about it. We headed back, boarded the Chunnel, and passed out on the ride down there. Don't ask me about the British/French countryside because I was sound asleep. Sorry.

The president was Abraham Lincoln. :-)

Coming soon: Eurotrip, Part 2: Ah, Gay Paris.