One evening last week I was finishing up at work and I exited the building only to find it was pitch black outside.  I guess I expected a more gradual season transition than that.  One day, light, next day… completely black.  WTF I say.

Been busy as usual, inbetween studying, starting school, and my healthy appetite for gaming.   Lately I’ve been using my off days to get through the Life in the UK study material, which I can assure you is completely boring.  I have to have my Indefinite Leave to Remain application submitted by the beginning of December and, among all the other proof I have to provide, must be a certificate showing I passed the Life in the UK exam.    Oh and £830.  That too, let’s not forget the large sum of money to which they can only justify £300ish of it goes towards the actual processing of your application… and the remaining lot is used to enforce immigration laws on those who go the illegal route.  completely fair, obviously.  I guess I should just count my lucky stars that  I am going through this now and not two years from now… when the fee is going to double…

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Everyone knows what Terms and Conditions are.  It’s that large packet of information that comes with any contractual arrangement titled “TERMS AND CONDITIONS PLEASE READ THROUGH CAREFULLY BEFORE SIGNING” that you throw away only moments before getting straight to the matter at hand: placing your John Hancock on the dotted line.   Terms and Conditions is a phrase I hear alot in my job, mostly because I work in finance, partially because it’s apart of the jargon, but largely due to the fact that almost any complaint can then be countered with “Sorry, but you should’ve read your terms and conditions!”

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Remember that kind, wise, infallible Danny-freakin-Tanner from the 90s show, Full House?  You know the one who single handedly “raised” three young girls, let his brother in law move in, and had a solution and hug for every problem?  Remember him?

Well watch him go absolute ape shit while filming the commercial for his Comedy Central Roast.  I LOVE this video:

Well it would seem Autumn is upon us once again.  The air always smells different when the seasons finally change from summer to fall.  It reminds me of going back to school, of shopping for school supplies and beginning another year.  Of folders, paper, and pencils.  It reminds me of hay rides and jack-o-lanterns, Halloween and trick-or-treating.  The feeling of the cold, fresh morning air as the frost slowly creeps in for another season.  The American football season starts, which reminds me of Sunday afternoons spent playing in raked leaf piles out in the backyard and coming inside to the warm fire.  But most importantly, the leaves change color.  The world suddenly explodes into a beautiful array of golds and reds.  It is my favorite time of year…. you know, aside from the fact that it’s now dark when I got out of work.

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To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect before going to Amsterdam.  Sure, I knew weed is legal and so is prostitution, but beyond that I was a blank slate, ready to experience what the city had to offer.  Our hotel, situated on the edge of the famed Red Light District, was just a short walk from all of the coffeeshops.  We went into one, a wonderful, small, moroccan themed shop, and I was not prepared for what I experienced.  The initial shock is everyone in the shop is getting high.  Then, much like any other shop, there is a menu to order from… only instead of drinks or food the menu is a listing of the different types of weed you can buy.  Never having been in this situation before, I asked the gentleman behind the counter which he’d recommend.  He began to compare a few, then took another hit of the joint he was smoking, before proclaiming “I like them all man, I like them all.”

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