June 16: Bon Voyage!

It's me, Death. The agreement was that Pilsbury would do all the journal entries, but today he insisted that he didn't have a pen...(the journal is entirely done online, by the way...also, why would that make ME have to do it...really he's been like this the whole time.)

Anyway, for our first destination we (he) decided to visit the beautiful (?) nation of Poland. For some reason, the doughboy was convinced that Polish was just English spoken with a heavy French accent (hence the title of this post, which he insisted upon). It also resulted in many confusing episodes in which Pilsbury would yell profanities with a French accent whenever he was talking to the locals. I pointed out that even if they did understand him, it would still be very rude, but he seemed unconcerned.

We arrived in Warsaw in the morning via Pilsbury's private jet. Seriously, how does this guy have so much money? The doughboy insisted that our first stop should be to visit the "giant bowl." He kept talking about it, and I couldn't figure out why until I started listening to him some more...As it turns out, he thought we were visiting "Bowland," ...not "Poland." After I broke the news to him he was visibly disappointed and didn't want to get out of the plane...he was being a real baby about it. I explained to him that we had a full itinerary to no avail. I was able to get him finally to leave when I promised we'd go to "Bowland" next time...hopefully he'll forget about it.

I was given a camera and put in charge of the pictures after...well Pilsbury's pictures were a little confusing...here's a picture he took in downtown Warsaw:
You can see our consternation. How did the Doughboy find the only Muslim lady in Poland and manage to take a blurry picture of her? Anyway, here are some of my pictures:
See: the country isn't a complete sh*thole when you see it through right lens. After the doughboy saw those pictures, he complained that he wasn't in them and started throwing a tantrum. I really didn't care, but I at least pretended to take pictures with him in it. For example, in this one, of what Pillsbury referred in the schedule book as the "Giant Wang," he's just to the left of the picture. If you look carefully you can see his arm...he's going to be pissed. Taking that picture with the "wang" almost made him forget about the whole 'bowl' thing. He started calling it "Wangland".


After touring the city of Warsaw, we arrived fashionably late to our appointment with Polish Prime Minister Jaroslaw Kaczynski (or whom the Doughboy called the King of Wangland).

Kaczynski admitted that he was also meeting with the Ukrainian PM Victor Yanukoyvch. Pillsbury thought it would be a great opportunity to embarrass himself in front of two world leaders. Actually, the meeting didn't go so badly...that is until Pilsbury started dancing...on the table...and claiming it was a traditional Polish folklore dance (he may have said Wangland instead of Poland, though). The worse part is that he just kept dancing...for like 45 minutes. After he was done, things got even more awkward. He asked the Prime Minister...or should I say interrupted the Prime Minister...and asked him how many Jews he had killed in the holocaust (keep in mind he was still doing the French accent). Kaczynski politely replied that he wasn't alive when the war ended. The Doughboy then got distracted and starting yelling more profanities. Once I realized he was going to pull out his repertoire of Polish jokes, I decided it was time to escort him away before things got worse. With that we left for the airport and headed towards our next destination. Hopefully things will get a little better...

(sigh...) Bon Voyage!