Tuscany Report

Day 1

At exactly 4a.m. we started our engines  and set off to Italy. After 11 hours and 900km of murderous Italian drivers and their driving style we arrived in Marina di Castagneto Carducci (Google Maps Link). We emptied our cars, entered the apartment and hit the beach right after. I’d like to quote Andi for his phrase of the century, when watching the locals going home for Siesta:

“What’s going on? We are coming, they are leaving – are they dumb?”

Day 2

On the second day, some Rastafarian guy and his girlfriend came to the beach in the afternoon. Suddenly Margit said “their stuff is burning” – the pseudo-jamaican pair was in the water – probably fucking – at that time. Sandra stood up, walked to up front and told them the real hot news. Ya man, your shit is burning. The mentioned girlfriend came first, the Rastafarian dude had to cool off – hard-on’s aren’t that practical when running around in swimming underwear. His shorts found their way to the trash can afterwards.
When we returned to our car that day I found a parking ticket under on of my windscreen wipers. Thirty-six euros for doing nothing wrong. Even if I would pay for that I wouldn’t be able to do so, no IBAN or BIC/SWIFT, no nothing. Screw you guys I’m driving home.

Day 3

The baywatch dudes at the beach are real hard guys. Especially when it comes to getting a bomb out of the water in the most dangerous way known to men – with a rope and a winch. Shortly after securing what we believe was a hand grenade under one of their man-powered lifeguard boats, the police arrived. Sandra had the guts to talk to one of the Mitch Buchanans directly

S: What’s going on?
MB: We found a bomb.
S: Should we leave?
MB: No, it’s just a “petit bomb”.

Play more with claymore.

Later that day I got really drunk- had to finish a bottle of red wine almost by myself, 14.5% vol. – says it all.

Day 4

On the fourth day Andi, Margit and I built the mandatory sand castle, the Castellanum Romanum Austriae. Everyone at the beach turned their heads for our monumental work. Later that day Andi and I had to kill some arachnoids:

A: Margit would you be so kind as to leave me and Christian alone for a moment.
M: What is so important that you need to tell him that I am not allowed to hear?
A: Okay, dude there are some giant spiders in the bathroom, I think we have to take them out before the girls recognise them.

We sang the A Team tune, and killed three eight-legged chaps.

Day 5

Some crazy Cessna pilot tried to kill himself and his passenger when he tried to fly as close above the water and nearly crashed into the sea. Crazy ass Italian pilots.

Day 6

The wind was a bit stronger on day six of our holidays, Sandra’s umbrella collapsed a few times. Andi and I did some stoneskipping. Mitch Buchanan joined us for one turn, and lost.

Day 7

The wind was much stronger than the day before, Sandra’s umbrella finally died, so I had to borrow her mine. Andi and I got tanned “brown +”. When the time came to leave the beach some digger dug a ditch to connect a river that has its delta on the beach to the sea. The river water was so green that Andi and Margit weren’t able to see that the mentioned ditch was 50cm deep when they tried to cross it, they almost disappeared. Andi did disappear again a bit later when he tried to fit his car, Margit and me (Sandra was waiting inside his car) on a photo. One step back, one more, and he was gone. Another ditch had beaten him,

Day 8

We left at 6a.m. And Sandra and I had to change driver seat almost every 150km, we were both really tired. Back home I booted my MacBook, received only 80 mails, and my newsreader showd up 700 new articles.

Seems like René missed Andi and me at the time he went to London a few days ago.

Photo taken by Sandra

By the way: Sandra is currently at the Christmas party of the company she’s working at and I do hope that she isn’t pissed as a fart when she gets home Sandra is kind of easy going when it comes to mullet wine. Last time she had 5 of them and certainly had to be walked home

This summer we joined together for a nice one week vacation in Tuscany (along with our girlfriends Margit and Sandra), for culinary delightfulness, Italian shirts, a good tan and to test Italian highhways to their limits, especially to find out that Italian tunnels have much better acoustics than Austrian ones.

Andi is the reason why I got to know the Maredo Steak House.

Andi works for the Austrian Judiciary Service, and so to say helps that the bad guys get the treatment they deserve, drives a neat Honda Civic, wears shirts with ‘PIMP – Still A Playa’, ‘Don’t Eat The Yellow Snow’ and ‘Parental Advisory Explicit Lyrics’ imprints, owns a rudder engine for workout, loves to play Battlefield 2, doesn’t eat fish (except fish fingers) and everything else that still has a face when served.
He gets hiccups when drinking Pepsi, and loves Steaks, and vegetarians aren’t his first choice.

Vegetarians eat the food of my food away

He knows all about the penal code, and how to kill someone within 3 seconds. He hates Sarah Jessica Parker and German soap operas.

I hope Gerner kills them all.

He likes to watch Bud Spencer & Terence Hill movies, can imitate the sound of Bud Spencer punchinig someone right in the neck, and how a car sounds while drifting.
He knows how to play miniature golf and bowling more than anyone else – he always leads the score boards.
Andi is the kind of guy you have to battle with, and although you give all your best he is the winner.

I’m always giving 22 percent and that’s enough.

Andi is not the biggest fan of musicals, but has the munchies for Chuck Norris movies. A perfect Andi-four-course-menu consists of steak, steak, steak and a banana split.

Steak is staple food.

BDP – Eight Inch Rules!

Andi: 587
Margit: 469
Mani: 455
Sandra: 449
I: 386

Yes, I wasn’t good at all