About 12 years ago, sitting in a pub in London with the drink flowing and craic at an all-time high, my friend, Jason, turned to me and said: "Man, you gotta love this place. But, still, there's no town in the world better than Fargo, North Dakota."He said this in total seriousness.The lesson to be learned there is that sometimes it's good to add a pinch of salt to whatever a person tells you about wherever they're from. I'll admit that if you ask me about Texas, I will conveniently forget about the endless miles of concrete wasteland in Houston and Dallas; somehow the myriad chemical plants are dropped from my descriptions of Lake Jackson and the Gulf Coast.That same sort of homerism runs rampant in Welsh people's descriptions of Wales. According to a Welshman, Wales is the greatest...
After a controversial loss to Chinese boxer Gu YuReporter: "In retrospect, would you have done anything differently?"GB boxer Joe Murray: "Yeah, I'd...
My latest column is out and as has become the custom I've decided to read it to you. In listening back to it, though, I sound a bit odd. I sound angry. I am trying to annunciate, but it's not working. The traces of my Texas accent cause me to mumble and slur words (listen to me slaughter the word "generally" at the end of the recording), so I was trying to make everything clear. In so doing, I've made everything slightly bitter, as well.Obviously, my career as a professional voice artist won't be getting under way any time soon.One benefit to the audio version, though, is that I chose to read it as I wrote it. The published version is missing a sentence because my editor was concerned it would offend. That sentence is: "(I am) enjoying the fact that they show naked breasts on primetime...
Say what you want about political voting, but I personally believe that if you manage to secure Evgeni Plushenko as a back-up dancer, you should win Eurovision.For those of you playing along at home, Eurovision is an annual song contest/festival of the absurd that is sort of the grandfather to things like "American Idol." Representatives from 43 European (a) countries perform original songs ranging from predictable pop to the delightfully absurd. Indeed, it is the really strange element that people have come to love about Eurovision. In recent years, some Western European countries have resorted to sending representatives that are either deliberately shit or deeply ironic in response to their feeling that it is impossible for them to win because of various countries' tendency to vote...
"Like much of America these days, the airline industry feels tired, worn down, and old. That is surprising in a country that often likes to think of itself as the best. Arguably, it once was, but the airline industry - like the health system, like schools, roads - you name it, feels like it is just creaking along and leaving its passengers ever more...
The other day, Geraint listed his Facebook status as: "Geraint doesn't live in Chicago." Thus prompting this Wall conversation:ME: "I don't live in Chicago, either. But I used to work there... in an old department store..."GERAINT: "But you don't work there anymore?"ME: "No, not since a woman came in and asked for a hammer."GERAINT: "A hammer from the store?"ME: "Indeed. A hammer she wanted. My tool she got."For those of you playing along at home, uhm, this whole exchange isn't really worth explaining. But it strikes me as particularly funny. Perhaps because it's a conversation that played out over three days.I wonder if there is anyone reading this who might have also worked at that same department store. I wonder if they still work there; or if not,...
Portsmouth and Cardiff are in the FA Cup final. Anthony, if you are reading this you'll want to read up on these teams because this is the match you will be watching when you and Maggie come to visit. Travelling several thousand miles only to find yourself watching soccer in a pub may seem a bit silly, but this is non-negotiable. You will be supporting Cardiff City. This is equally non-negotiable. I'm not necessarily happy about it, but supporting the home team is a matter of health and safety in this country. In the United States, it is a cheeky thing to sit in a bar in one team's town and support the other team, but this isn't the United States; people here don't think it's funny to do that. They will hurt you on principle.For those of you playing along at home, there's this game called...
About a week ago, Cardiff experienced a series of days that were brilliantly sunny and unseasonably temperate. People flooded from their dreary brick confines to just sort of linger in the spring-like warmth. In this country, it takes at least a week to get anything done (I am still waiting for my student loan cheque to be converted to pounds sterling -- I endorsed it on 11 January), but people respond to good weather instantly. As soon as the pavements (FTYPAH: sidewalks) are dry they are milling about, with at least a handful of the chavs doing their best to pretend that they are, in fact, in Magaluf -- stomping around in shorts and T-shirts. It speaks to the priorities of the British peoples, I think: - Good weather = important. - Getting things done in a timely fashion = not so...
My latest column is out. If you read my blogging of the Super Bowl, the themes will be familiar but they are better fleshed out. My favourite part is the observation that: "rugby... is what football used to be before being taken over by figure skaters. American football is so laden with rules and technicality that is at times more performance than sport. Yes, I realize you need to be fit to run really fast and catch a ball, but is it a real test of mental and physical capacity when you're allowed to stop every 15 seconds and do the...
Primrose Hill is not in Greenwich. For those of you who playing along at home, Primrose Hill is, shockingly, in Primrose Hill -- in Regent's Park, specifically, a fair walk north of the river and on London's western end. Greenwich is east of London's East End, hugging the southern bank of the Thames.I have no idea how I screwed up these locations so badly. But it was to Greenwich that I dragged Jen Rodvold in my pursuit to stand where Iolo "Reality Spoils A Good Tale" Morgannwg stood in 1792 and held the first Gorsedd. Fortunately, the adventure turned out to be worthwhile. Jen is a friend of mine from high school. It seems the older I get, the more friends I have from high school. Thank you, Facebook. Thank you, maddening nature of aging. As we get older and spin further and further...
One of the things that always made me a bad journalist was my admiration for police officers. I think they're cool. Yes, I realise the football cards they gave me as a child were just a propaganda ploy, but it was a propaganda ploy that worked. For our friends in the Home Nations, when I was a boy, in both Houston and Bloomington, if you went up and talked to a police officer they would give you baseball cards or (NFL) football cards. I still have a few of those cards stored away, including Kirby Puckett and Nolan Ryan cards that could now probably get me enough cash for a nice dinner.These days I tend to like police officers for all sorts of reasons: because they are underpaid and deal with all the people that I don't want to have to deal with, and because they have an understated sort...
My latest column is out, complete with family-friendly edit. My editor (who loves the Longhorns, by the way) felt that I would be less likely to receive grumpy e-mails if he changed, "I was singularly focused on getting her to take off her shirt," to, "... singularly focused on getting her alone."It defeats the point of the joke, which was to finish off a navel-gazing statement about my sub-conscious with a crass reference to sex, but almost certainly Adam is right. American news consumers are desperate to be offended and a reference to my fondness for certain parts of the female anatomy would give them too easy a target.Amusingly, I had already self-censored an entire paragraph. It is said that when Custer got his ass handed to him at Little Bighorn, some of his men went into such an...
For those of you playing along at home, you're missing a load of amusing television in Britain at the moment. One of my favourite shows is "Coal House," if not simply because it features Rhodri Phillips, the most amusing child ever.My catchphrase at the moment is, "I don't like piggies" (about 8 seconds...
This city is only as old as the stories that are told about it.I learned recently that Cardiff was established by the Romans 1,952 years ago. Nobody appears to have been keeping records before the Romans showed, so as far as we know Caerdydd (a) is the oldest city (b) in Wales. You wouldn't really know that from walking around. On the surface, Cardiff often resembles St. Paul, Minn., with its relatively wide and tree-lined streets, architecture that tends not to date back more than 150 years and ample parking. It is a city that Welsh people, Welsh speakers in particular, are often eager to dismiss. This modern, always changing, historyless place; it's not the REAL Wales.Of course, in fact, it is. Like the real Wales -- whatever the hell that's supposed to mean -- it's history is...
For those of you playing along at home, or even those of you on this side of the water with better things to do than watch television all day*, this is my favourite advert at the moment.*In fairness, I'm watching...
I walked today from Barry to East Aberthaw and decided to turn the experience into an audio/visual blogging extravaganza. Well, perhaps "extravaganza" is a bit much. It's really no more than a slideshow with commentary.I apologise for the quality of the audio in some of these clips. It's blustery on the coast. Adding to the poor quality is the fact that in most of the clips I was walking. My goal was to do things quickly and give it a sort of "instant" feel, but arguably this still could have been achieved while standing still and out of the wind.The audio has the added factor of displaying my present hodgepodge accent. It's generally the old Minnesota-with-Texas-twang sound, but occasionally you pick up South Wales phrasing. It's most notable, I think, when I'm talking about mini-golf in...
My latest column is out. Actually, it's been out since Tuesday, but I wasn't near a computer to post it. Random line from the column: "In Britain it is more acceptable to kick an old lady in the shins than design straight roads that are easy to...
Those of you playing along at home are missing out on my favourite television programme in a long time: "Last Man Standing." It airs on BBC Three and is a strange mix of reality television, travel show, and sports entertainment*. It features six blokes -- three American and three British -- travelling around the world and taking part in various tribal sports and tribal customs. They live with people of the village for a fortnight or so, working alongside them whilst training, and then they take part in a massive competition that often sees them getting schooled by tiny tribesmen.So far they have wrestled in the Amazon, fought with sticks in South Africa, run a ridiculous race in Mexico (that one was a sham), participated in kick-fighting in India and wrestled in Mongolia. It is a...
I have three different people asking me to write articles by the end of the week. I'm not complaining. I want to be a writer, and having people press me to write is certainly better than sitting around wishing I had an outlet. My only problem is that I am unsure whether I will meet these deadlines. Because at the same time as I am supposed to be writing I am also immersed in my Welsh Cult Experience. A few days after I ungratefully accepted a position on a Welsh course for the month of July, I got a call from one of my professors informing me that I was, in fact, being offered a place on a higher-level course, Cwrs Meistroli. I was much happier about accepting a place on this course, if not simply because it involves a weeklong trip to a secluded area of North Wales. So, I get to go on...
I'm not sure how much longer they will be available, but I highly recommend listening* to all the songs here. There are 13 tracks from a live Amy Winehouse performance earlier this year in Amsterdam that serve to eliminate any doubt I may have had as to her musical skillz.Not a pretty lady is Miss Winehouse, but she's got that voice. Seriously, where the hell does that sound come from? You've got this wilty little English-Jewish heroin addict and out comes a voice that threatens to bitch slap Aretha Franklin. And Aretha never sang, "What kind of fuckery is this? You made me miss the Slick Rick gig."From all the things one reads about Winehouse, you've got to think she's not particularly long for this world. Unless she finds Jesus or some such thing, she'll likely end up dead in a hotel...
The other day the child bride's mother randomly asked during a phone call about terrorism. In simple terms, the child bride's mother doesn't fully trust the world outside U.S. borders and she occasionally needs reassurance that her favourite daughter is at least reasonably safe while her favourite daughter's no-good husband insists on living in socialist hotspots. MOTHER-IN-LAW: "So, are you guys staying alert to any threats from terrorists?"CHILD BRIDE: "Huh?"ML: "I mean, aren't you concerned about terrorism?"CB: "In Wales?!"ML: "Oh, so you're pretty isolated out there, huh? You're kind of far away from it?"CB: "Yes. Definitely, mother."And the child bride is right. Partially insulated from the rest of the world by the great blanket of ignorance that is the South Wales Echo, we have...
I am sitting here watching election coverage on S4C. Normally at this point, I would have a quick "For those of you playing along at home" note. But voter apathy is rather high in Wales, so, for those of you not presently in my living room, Wales had Assembly elections on Thursday. For those of you who read the South Wales Echo, Wales has a governmental body commonly known as the Assembly, or Y Cynulliad. It's kind of like Parliament except the opposition parties tend not to be as witty. The Assembly is housed in one of Cardiff Bay's myriad weird-looking buildings (FTYPAH: Cardiff Bay is an Easter basket of look-how-hard-I'm-trying architecture like the St. David's Hotel, the Millennium Centre, and the Assembly building). The last time Wales held elections, only 38 percent of the voting...
Actual unedited response to this week's column: "I was going to state that you should be proud to be an American and a United States Citizen. I was going to state that you should proudly speak up about our presence in Iraq; even if you disagree with it, you should not espouse your feelings in a foreign country. But then I saw a picture of you, and realized that you are no better than john murtha, harry reid, or nancy pelosi.I am glad, however, that I will not be around in 20 years when you will all be praising Allah – there is nothing wrong with that, our country WAS based on religious freedom – or face slaughter at the hands of the militant islamists.Please believe me. It will come as long as people of your ilk, continue to massage the 20 percent of people that control the...
That is a look of disdain, bitches. Dick appears to be withering under her...
I don't really have a list of reasons to love Cardiff, perhaps I will make one some day. Somewhere at the top of that list will be the fact that it's not this place.The picture was taken by a former co-worker of mine, Maggie, who asks the question "What city is this??" rhetorically. It is a picture of downtown Minneapolis. The frustrating aspect is that in this city that serves as the cultural heart of the only state to not vote for Reagan in 1984, there is massive (and, let's be honest, tacky) Americana propaganda and a Rush Limbaugh billboard framed by the omnipresence of Borders and the Target Corp.I am thinking of putting this picture on a T-shirt, with the words, "Not The America I Grew Up In," across the top. For everyone who's never been to the Twin Cities, this picture probably...
Here's my top tip for getting your hair cut in another country: just accept whatever they give you.The fact is, over the past several decades British people have been getting haircuts that are on the whole slightly different than those that the majority of Americans have been getting. So, if you go in and be very specific in asking them to cut your hair just like they used to atGreat Clips, your instructions will be diligently ignored and you will end up with something that is almost but not entirely unlike the thing you asked for. So, your best bet is to instead focus on finding a place where you like the people who are cutting your hair in whatever fashion they please. When I lived in Portsmouth, I always went to a barbershop that was located in the train station. The two guys running...
Every once in a while in my daily travels of this fine city I run into a bloke with an Eminem-style haircut who's missing a front tooth. He is most often to be seen wearing a dark blue shell suit ("track suit" for those of you playing along at home) and talking on one of two mobile phones that he carries everywhere. Most of the time he's having a conversation with someone who doesn't understand a word he's saying: "No, right, I gottih inuh pos. Wha? I say I gottit in nuh pos. In the post. The package I got. No, I got it in the post. No, mate. I got the package IN THE POST." The way he speaks, stands, smokes, walks and dresses, he is as chav as the pope is Catholic. But here's the thing: he's a really friendly fellow. He is the happiest, friendliest chav that ever there was.Usually I see...
If you read pretty much any blog based in the UK you'll know by now that we got snow this week. Those of you playing along at home are thinking: "OK, and?"That's it. We got snow. Dear Lord, we got snow. In Minnesota, this would have been the type of snow one could knock off a windshield ("windscreen" for those of you playing along over here) with one hand; most people wouldn't even bother to put on their gloves. Here, though, snow is a big thing that means locking all the doors and refusing to go to work. On Thursday and Friday, Rachel was told to stay home from work*, allowing plenty of time for reading and Yahtzee. I foolishly wasted my time by attempting to go to classes.The train tracks run just a few yards from the house and I'm able to hear the trains when they shuffle by. On...
It's rare that I say this, but I think I feel a haiku* coming on...Another strange thing:Welsh people like poetry.This confuses me.For a very short while in high school, I decided I was going to be a poet. I decided this based on my ability to produce reams and reams and reams of grumpy non-rhyming free-form poetry dedicated to this or that girl who had broken up with me after two weeks."Time with you was perfect --Never boring,Never wasted."That was my favourite line. Sadly, it was stolen from Henry Rollins. I'm digressing a bit here, but for a guy who writes a lot about love and relationships and has in his head at least three novels that would explore these subjects, my romantic foundation is a bit odd; it consists almost entirely of Rollins-sentimentalism and Van Morrison.Needless to...
