Capone, instantly disqualify them if they talk about Belgian waffles, beer, peeing boy statues, or the amazing confluence of French and German societies with just an extra bit of unearned superiority thrown in. That shit's just too easy.

My entry would have been the Boob Terminal. I was on a 10 hour layover in the Brussels airport due to a scheduling snafu on my way to an electromagnetic weapon conference in Potsdam, Germany (really). Me and my compadre are full of good snooty european coffee and too many waffles and are walking it off, trying not to be too ugly of Americans. We're wandering about and find this work of modern art, off in a terminal and away from any traffic which might appreciate it. It's by itself, like it's been shunned by all the other crappy airport art and adverts. And this thing is nothing but bronze waves, swoops, and whorls of headless female torsos and perky, perfect boobs. It's like a tsunami hit the factory where they turn out those aloof icelandic supermodels and wrecked their spare parts bin. It's a thing of beauty and the one thing I loved the most about my limited time in Belgium. I will make no mention of just how much I appreciated it, but it was isolated and it had been a while since I saw my wife.

I have a tendency to share too much. Oh BTW, In Bruges looks really funny.

Capone, instantly disqualify them if they talk about Belgian waffles, beer, peeing boy statues, or the amazing confluence of French and German societies with just an extra bit of unearned superiority thrown in. That shit's just too easy.

My entry would have been the Boob Terminal. I was on a 10 hour layover in the Brussels airport due to a scheduling snafu on my way to an electromagnetic weapon conference in Potsdam, Germany (really). Me and my compadre are full of good snooty european coffee and too many waffles and are walking it off, trying not to be too ugly of Americans. We're wandering about and find this work of modern art, off in a terminal and away from any traffic which might appreciate it. It's by itself, like it's been shunned by all the other crappy airport art and adverts. And this thing is nothing but bronze waves, swoops, and whorls of headless female torsos and perky, perfect boobs. It's like a tsunami hit the factory where they turn out those aloof icelandic supermodels and wrecked their spare parts bin. It's a thing of beauty and the one thing I loved the most about my limited time in Belgium. I will make no mention of just how much I appreciated it, but it was isolated and it had been a while since I saw my wife.

I have a tendency to share too much. Oh BTW, In Bruges looks really funny.