You’re The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy!
by Douglas Adams
Considered by many to be one of the funniest people around, you are
quite an entertainer. You’ve also traveled to the far reaches of what you deem possible,
often confused and unsure of yourself. Life continues to jostle you around like a marble,
but it’s shown you so much of the world that you don’t care. Wacky adventures continue to
lie ahead. Your favorite number is 42.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Odd. I took this same quiz a while back and got a different result. I don’t even remember what it was, but this one seems so oddly fitting right now. I haven’t blogged in a while because I have felt a bit like that marble, and none of my jostled thoughts were really worth blogging about. But that was just too fitting to pass up.

So it’s Good Friday. I slept in until noon today, which is quite shocking considering I’ve been waking up between 3:00am and 6:00am this past week. Thankfully I woke up just in time to see Alastair taking some quiche out of the oven. Mmm. Perfect timing. 🙂 He’s off now, putting together a bed for his son, but when he gets back we’ll be having a lovely Good Friday dinner completely free from meat, as tradition dictates. Of course, that tradition will seem a tad odd, I suppose, considering a Mormon and a self-proclaimed Pervert will be sitting down to Good Friday dinner together, neither of us really traditionally participating in this particular religious custom. Either way, it should be entertaining.

It looks like I’ll be coming back home sooner than I expected. I don’t really know how I feel about this, but then again, I am a marble at the moment, and marbles don’t really know where they’re going. 🙂 All I know is I’m looking forward to good ole’ American meat. Not that there’s anything wrong with European food – it’s been lovely – I’m just… and I’m rather ashamed by this, mind you… but I miss American food. Isn’t that just so typical? I miss big horrendous slabs of Black Angus beef, I miss root beer (gee, who woulda guessed?), I miss American-size portions (despite the fact I can’t eat all that much at one time, it’s just comforting seeing that much food), I miss free refills on beverages, I miss ice in my glass, I miss the freedom to choose whether or not to add gratuities to my meal bills, and most of all, I miss waffles. I’m still in shock – they don’t have waffles over here! Can you believe it? And here I was, ignorant in my belief that warm, syrupy goodness was universal. After all, we do call them “Belgian Waffles”. Yeah, well, we lie. Belgians don’t have waffles like that! It’s a conspiracy to lure us all into some sense of being international in our choice of breakfast foods, when really it seems they’re an entirely North American invention.

Kind of makes me proud in a way, that we have waffles. I’m almost tempted to open a Waffle House in Europe. Or a Not-So-International House of Pancakes. Either way, it’s a shame. I wonder why they haven’t been brought over to the shores of Europe. Canadians have waffles, Americans have waffles, why not the French, or the British, or the Italians? Surely they wouldn’t object to some delightfully fluffy squares of goodness, drenched in puddles of maple syrup?

The very night I get back, my Mom’s going to take me to a lovely Roadhouse to get a big slab of filet mignon, hot buttery rolls, a big salad with ranch dressing, and a bottomless glass of root beer. Yeah, I’m an American, and dang proud of it.

I do love Europe, though. I’ve enjoyed my time here, I’ll miss it greatly, but I’m ready to come home I think. I think I’ll grab myself a snack and watch Hitchhiker’s Guide for a while until Alastair gets back. 🙂