Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   chaos at the Presidente tap
Monday, February 25 2013

location: Room 1336, Natura Park Resort, Punta Cana, Dominican Republic

The early morning disturbance this morning was the arrival in our patio (at circa 6:00am) of a family with at least two small children. The kids ran around screaming and hollering, the pitter-pat of their feet making a low-end sound that easily penetrated pillows placed on the head (which were somewhat more effective at blocking their euphoric squeals and occasional wails of existential sadness). Now and then the parents could be heard making a "shhh!" sound, but it did little good.
As I had been doing since our second day on the beach, I kept out of the sun and read New Yorkers in the shade of a semi-permanent thatched umbrella, only venturing into the ocean when I needed to piss (though occasionally staying in it for awhile). Lunch is proving to be the best meal of the day. For some reason red wine is only served at room temperature then; it tends to be overly-chilled at dinner. Today I managed to cobble together yet another good Mexican meal for lunch, mixing up a variety of vegetables, beans, and jalapeños and stuffing them into taco shells. But at dinner, mysteriously, the taco shells and other Mexican staples vanished and we found ourselves without any vegan source of protein. Happily, the pasta bar continued to crank out good pasta, but I made the mistake of combining jalapeños with the pomodoro sauce and found the combination surprisingly unpleasant.
The pasta bar was being hit so hard that the overworked pasta chef pulled the spaghetti out before it was done, and Gretchen ended up with a plate of the stuff that was too tough to eat. Meanwhile, unusually overcrowded conditions meant that no waitresses were coming around with wine, so I was forced to get myself glasses of Presidente beer. But the beer tap was temperamental and all I could get from it was foam or odd little explosions. The tap also had the problem that its off position lay in the center of its arc of movement, a difficult and non-intuitive place to land it. After causing more than my fair share of chaos at the Presidente tap, one of the employees came over and filled my glass. Somehow he managed to keep the foam layer down to only about a quarter inch.

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