Good Old-Fashioned Nightmare Fuel

Just woke up from a harrowing nightmare in which I was kidnapped from a Turner exhibit at the Guggenheim (I fully admit I barely know who Turner even IS, and from what I've seen I don't know why I would have gone to that show, but anyway...), by a gang of military/rogue mercenaries dispatched from a cooking school in Belarus. After pleading with them that, among other things, I had to use the bathroom, the elevator stopped at the 44th floor (at the Guggenheim) and deposited us into a British grocery store in Belarus (...again, at the Guggenheim). It was there where I was cruelly told I must separate lettuce by color to ascertain just how far along I WAS in cooking.
This was when I literally woke up crying. Belorussian cooking schools don't fuck around.
Finally starting on my drawings for Thesis– would have done it yesterday except for recovering from Germanfest, which I will talk about. I figure there's no way in Hell I'm going to be able to do that many linocuts, so I'll do faux-linos. I figured out a quick n' dirty way of doing it (well, actually less dirty than doing real linos, but you get the point). Listening to a bunch of Lotte Lenya/Kurt Weill to get "in the mood" (yeah, it's a really cheery, upbeat piece of art), which unfortunately has me now wanting to do real prints about the Threepenny Opera. No! No! Resist the temptation! Until next weekend, anyway!
So, Germanfest: Imagine every loud-but-jolly drunk you've ever met, slap 'em in lederhosen and one of those Munich hats with the brush on the side (one of which I have proudly owned since high school), and ply them with beer and brats, and encourage them to yodel. Then, throw in an inexplicably huge amount of Asians, also drunk, in funny hats, and yodeling. Did I mention it's 2 in the afternoon?
I've determined, as a part-German myself, that although we might be efficient, we're essentially one damn goofy culture. So between that, the Lotte Lenya marathon, and the pursuit of Frans Masereel prints for reference, it's been a VERY German weekend.
Guess that's better than Belorussian, anyway.
Where the Hell even IS Belarus?