The wolf trainer on this film is actually called Zoltan

Yo. I'm on my ONE DAY OFF a week. ONE DAY. That means that I work a SIX DAY WEEK. SIX DAYS. That's like slave labour. I didn't know that they allowed six day weeks, except in shitty backwards countries that have streets lined with stray dogs, ugly people and collapsed sewers.

So, ROMANIA, eh? I canna be arsed to blog properly. This brings to mind the old saying: If you have nothing relevant to say, just give a list of disconnected opinions, things that happened, and random shit you saw in the street.

So, here's just a list of STUFF from Romania. It's in no particular order, and if you're generally unimpressed by the effort that went into this, well, there's a place for losers like you.

On the side of the Cornflakes box, there are lists of ingredients in seventeen languages. However, all of the titling and descriptions are in English.
There's a cat at the cafe where we eat lunch; it must eat its body-weight in weird Romanian meat every day just from our table.
There are a lot of stray dogs wandering the streets. Apparently they often turn up dead. The best my dad ever saw was THREE dead ones in one journey. So far, I've only seen one deceased pooch. It was like an oozing red blob in the centre of the road with a leg sticking out. Ah, good times.
The wolf trainer on this film is actually called Zoltan. ZOLTAN. I didn't even think that anybody actually named their kids ZOLTAN. Except for the parents of evil action-figure villains. I have just decided. I am SO naming my future son Zoltan. That would kick ass. All the other kids, with gay names like Gareth and Hugh and William would be all jealous and shit of ZOLTAN with his wrist mounted rocket launcher and his POWER FIST. GO ZOLTAN.
Piece of advice from my Father Number 1: If little romanian gypsy kids ask you for money, you just shrug your shoulders and blow a rasberry. This makes them just leave LIKE THAT.
I have three bites on my hands. None are from fit romanian girls. My bet is that it was from the wood I was gathering the other day.
There's a collapsed sewer a few roads away. There are two fucking huge holes in the road. These have been there for a couple of days and nobody has done anything. At all. In fact, there are random holes dug in the road all over the place. Super.
At the film studios where I'm working there have been like three underground cave movies. One of which starred global mega-star-goddess PINK.
Yesterday we sat behind another global megastar - TOM SKERRITT. Famous for his nice mustache and his roles in hit movies Tuscaloosa, Changing Hearts and Greenmail (yes, even Greenmail), we were mere METRES away from him. I was about to go and ask for his autograph, but the pure star-power of him drove me away. He's now in Romania shooting a film, with the lead part of 'Customer Number 3'.
Piece of advice from my Father Number 2: Never put bannaas in the fridge.
There is a lot of ugly in Romania. A LOT of ugly. But on the other hand, when there's fitness, there is FITNESS. Like woah mama fitness. Like a gold ring buried in a bathtub of fecal matter. Kinda like tubgirl if you get me, homie.
I could have been an extra on this film if they were shooting any outdoor scenes. I couldn't really be an extra in the appartment scene, seeing as there are only like three people in the room at the time. I dunno, I could be just standing quietly in the corner holding a vase or something. Coulda worked I guess.
I realised the other day that I've been ironically pronouncing 'tomato' the American way for so long I've actually started to say it automatically. DAMN YOU AMERICA.
There are a lot of Romanians here. I don't like Romanianans. You know why? Because they speak romanian. Sods.
Danny has big eyebrows. You'll find out who Danny is at another time. We all love Danny.
Piece of advice from my Father Number 3: If an adult tries to sell you something in the street, just point over his shoulder and say MY FRIEND. Then walk off when they turn round.
Jerry Seinfield was offered the part of turkey number 3 in a South Park episode. His agent turned it down. Bitch.
'Thank you' in romanian is 'merci'. So basically its a shitty bastardisation of other good languages. And when I say 'good languages' I mean 'languages I can understand'.
I was really mind-blown when I realised that all the people that I was working with actually lived through Communist rule. Kerazy.
I can't understand the Romanian currency. It's like, two tiers, new lei and old lei, and everything is written either in new or old lei, and the old lei is worth like 10,000 less than the new lei, but they never say which one they're using, so a bill for 100 could either be one pound eighty or, like, eighteen quid and I can't figure it out and it makes my brain hurt.
I get to go on a 'technical rekkie' on Monday, which I think involves just standing about looking at the walls. Could be boring, so I'm bringing my CD PLAYER.
I am always saying Budapest instead of Bucharest. Not my fault that they STOLE THE FUCKING NAME, is it?
I have listened to every Pixies CD I own like fifteen times through. It's not my fault that I work like 10 hours a day and the CDs are only about 35 minutes long each, is it?
I can't decide whether to use upper case or lower case whenever I type Romanian, so I have kinda been swapping between the two.
DID I SAY THAT I SAW TOM SKERRITT? TOM SKERRITT! WOW.

I saw my dad rinse a sidewalk trader the other day while we were at a cafe. It was quite funny.
Trader: You want this?
*Shows my dad a cigarette lighter in a box*
Dad: Now, there are three things wrong with this operation. One: I don't smoke.
Trader: 800 lei, but I keep half, you get me?
Dad: Two: Go away, you're blocking the light.
*Trader staggers off*
Dad: Three: I don't even want the box.

Hardey har. Well I kinda edited that to make it more funny, but hey, it's still all good. Thinking about it, it wasn't really a trader. More of just a random drunk guy who wanted some money. There are a lot of those in Bucharest.

I have made a model of a wood. It's so good, and it only took a few hours. When I say hours, I mean SOLID DAYS.

Tom Skerritt! Woweee.