Today is

PAYDAY, PAYDAY, trallalalalalalaa! My employer, the City of Edinburgh Council sent a cheque today! Unfortunately, I won't be able to transform it into good solid money, as I would need a bank account to do that and the Bank of Scotland just is not so fast. But that minor problem couldn't stop me from dancing around the kitchen (approximately 20 minutes before almost settig it on fire, but that is beside the point... und du fragst einfach nich warum.) and laughing like a Madman. You know, like the one at the end of Michael Jackson's "Thriller".
Apart from that, nobody can say that I don't earn my money like-real-hard-yeah-big-time. I had this second year group today. There were only five of them but I fought!
I give you ... "The Boomtown Brats":
Dean: Did you meet Hitler? (These kids are so obsessed with this guy. Do spanish people ever get asked about Franco?)
Me: No, he died like 60 years ago.
Dean: Did your parents meet Hitler?
Me: No, they're too young as well.
Dean: Did your grandparents meet Hitler?
Me: No, but my grandfathers had to fight in the war.
Dean: Did they die in the war?
Me: No, my grandfather died about six years ago.
Dean: Was he shot?
Me: No, he died of cancer.
Dean: Did you cry?
Me (slightly impatient): Of course.
Dean: Was your grandfather a Nazi?
Me: No.
Dean: Are you a Nazi?
Me (slightly puzzled): No...?! What do you think?
Dean: I think you're a Nazi.
Me: Why would I be a Nazi?
Dean: You're German.
Me: ... right.
Dean: Do you fancy Mr Campbell?
Me: No.
Dean: I bet you fancy him.
Me: Yes, alright, you got me, but don't tell him I do.
Dean: Do you ever fart?

I SWEAR I didn't make that up, this is what happened! About ten minutes later I sent Dean back to his class and under the supervision of the above mentioned Mr Campbell, who was less then delighted about Deans behavior. The little brat spent the rest of the period copying the school's code of conduct (which contains things like "we respect each other" or "we don't discuss flatulence with our teachers") and writing down an apology for me. "I'msorryforbehavingsillyandsorryforbeingcheekyitwon'thappenagainIpromise." It had better not, boy!

Today's Lesson for Life:

Do not approach street corners at high velocity if you can't make sure (beforehand, mind you) that there is nobody coming towards you from the other side.
...
Just don't.

Great things

are about to happen! Yesterday, Raquel et moi discovered, that during our autumn break, which starts on the 14 Oktober, we just have to go on a trip. So I will again venture to rent a car. But this time, I will avoid this bloodsucking motherloving sons of witches watsisname selfdrive, but I will go for Hertz. The plan so far involves Raquel and me, two other campers, whom we have yet to find, Loch Lomond, Glen Coe, Urquhart Castle and Loch Ness, the north west coast between Ullapool and Durness, Cape Wrath, Aviemore, Loch Muick, Dunnottar Castle and then back home. Considering I made this up between waking up and getting up, this is not as bad a route, is it? We have one week, bacause we want to be back in time for the Garbage concert. And just in case you are wondering: yesyesyo, on thursday is payday!! So, if any of you fancies to go on a tour of Scotland with a german and a paraguayan FLA, let me knoooo! We'll start in only three weeks time, so the weather should be ... yea, well, alrightish. It's gonna be great!
Yesterday, us two lovely Ladies went to the open doors day. We saw lots of disgusting things in the natural history biology Labs (including all kinds of parasites). We quite quickly decided to leave that place. We then went to the geology-thingy where we learnt a lot about seismology, earthquakes, Tsunamis and the sun and had almost had tea and biscuits. After that we went to the Royal Observatory (Capital Letters indeed!), where we met a bunch of other FLAs, had a real enthusiastic astronomer (who actually was german) show us his giant telescope and dark and cold (4000 degrees) spots on the sun. Again, we almost had tea and biscuits. We also tried to get into the scottish parliament, but we didn't make it in time. Instead, we went to the chippy. Raquel and I then went to her place to get her DVDs and then to my place to watch them. After the film we still weren't tired, so we went to a pub on Cockburn street (the Malt Shovel) together with some other Foreign Language Assistants. At the literal end of the day, we had tea and biscuits (!) at Tatjana's place, who not only is from Bremerhaven, but also owns the same coat as Frau Zwilling (the red one that you dyed brown). What a good day.
Now I have to go to Tesco before I can have breakfast, because I'm clearout of white Schlabberbrot.
Ewan McGregor still not spotted.

Summer

now officially is over, the days are getting colder. ... Bugs are dying by the truckload, hahaaa! Good riddance to 'em all!! I sure like fall.
But apart from that, I woke up this morning with the sun in my face, a cloudless sky ... errm ... in the sky and pigeons' butts wiggeling twiggeling above my window, while the pigeons' fronts were drinking from the rainpipe. What a nice thing to wake up tho that sight and the new day's first thought being "Arsch".
My new favourite radio station ("... with the real breakfast show; Real Radio!") plays a nice chanty about someone who has just come from the Isle of Skye ("and all the lassies say hello" or something) and I can't wait to head off to the west coast (or, especially for Stephan Scheeder: West Siiiiiiiide!!). Well, maybe in spring. What a good thing to have come here for the winter. These frickin' PAD people just don't think straight!

Ha!

Today, I briskly walked up to Mr Ian Miller, Head of Department, and asked him in a firm voice: "...ermm...about the laptop... ...? ... you told me I could borrow one from the school... . ...Ermmm, that would be just great." And he said: "Oh, yes, sure." And then he just walked into the next room and took a laptop out of an innocent looking drawer. And just handed it over to me. And I thought "Oh, that was simple, maybe I should ask for a Lamborghini next time." No, I didn't actaully think that, I'm thinking that right now. Damn. Anyway. I took the precious thing home and plugged it in. And I saw that it was good. Then I attempted to install the software for my magic camera. And it worked. And I saw that it was good. And then I tried to get into the internet, and after a little help from my own personal cricket expert (he goes by the name of Amit), that also worked. (Me: "Do you know what you're doing? He: "Nope.") And what can I say: I saw it was frickin' good! The only thing that is not good at all, is that I haven't managed to PUT SOME PICTURES ON THE FUCKING BLOG. Darn. It should give me the option of uploading pictures. But it doesn't. Well, I'll see to that.
By the way, the above mentioned Amit has already complained about insufficiently being represented in this blog. So beware! A detailed introduction of both the boys living here will follow, how did Dr Antonio (or who was it?) put it, in due course. You may start looking forward to that ... NOW.

Interior decoration

Children of the night, please help. The walls of my room are bare as a baby's butt ('part from the dirt), and I have no means of stuffing them with ... stuff, you know. Please send my nice things to make my Kemenate look nicer. Even nicer I mean. Also whenever you go to places, please send me postcards to show the kids at school, they don't know nothin' about anything. (Danielle: "But when there was a wall around the city, that must have been a good thing, because people could not fight with the people on the other side." Ich so: "Hae?") SO send me nice things, especially photos of yourselves so that I can have a look at your netten Fressen everyday.
Heute ess ich Haggis!
Roberta Fleck

Edinburghs most important pair of H's

Eftir watching Cricket for two weeks or so (did you know that it involves little sticks of wood which are not supposed to fall off of other sticks of wood, that one match takes about a week and that the actual trophy, that England won back last week from the Australian Surferboys, is the size of a good sized Schnappesglas? One or two more months and, who knows, I might have eventually understood what it is all about...) ... where was I.. achso, yes, I'm finally back to good ol' Fitba! Yesterday, Hibernian FC or Hibernian Edinburgh or Edinburgh Hibernian FC or whatever the correct title may be, played Divn... Drvni...Diver...Dvrnr...some ugly blokes from Ukraine. And do you know that one scene in Ocean's Twelve, where that black guy (you know, the one whose name I always forget, but who was brilliant in Ocean's Twelve, where he put on a London accent although he is in fact from Califoornia or Texas or Alabama and who was also brillliant in Hotel Rwanda) sits in his hotel room, working on the bomb or something and watching tv where they pull down that huge hotel and in the back there's the window where he could actually see the building coming down but he doesn't because he can't take his eyes off the fucking tele. ... complicated explanation for a rather weak point... Jedenfalls: that's exactly what I experienced yesterday while I was watching football. They played at Easter Road, a place I can see from my kitchen window. I could even see the big screen because the stadium is really close but I was sitting, back to the window, in my kitchen watching the whole thing on telly. Strange. And that with me beeing so thankful for the Hibs. Everytime I get stuck in class because I can't think of any more questions to ask, I say the magical three words an let them linger in mid air for a second. They go like this: "Hearts or Hibs?" These are guaranteed to trigger off the most livelyest of discussions. Not in german, but so what? The thing is, I haven't decided yet on what team to support, Heart of Midlothian or Hibernian, and so eveybody is of course trying to convince me of his or her team. Well, ... I will have a look at Hearts as soon as possible and of course I will let you know of the results of this crutial question.
Tune in next time for the
Sabrina Fleck ... ... Gaalaaaaaaa!!!

brats!

My new favourite game is to play "true or false" with sentences containig comparatives.
Me: "True or false: Die Queen ist juenger als ich."
Connor sitting in the last row: "Ich as in you or ich as in us?"
Me: "Either one, smartypants! And thank you."
Ewan: "But ye dinne ken how old we are..."
... ...
But I know how old thwe Queen is, and if I look older then her already, it's all their fault. By the way, the average estimatet age of the above Lady is of 112.
Tschuus.

Freedooooooooommmmmmargh...

Lads and Lassies, es ist wieder soweit. Naechstes Wochenende jaehrt sich zum (gott, jetz muss ich auch noch rechnen, aehhm...)691. Mal die Battle of Banochburn. Festlich begangen auf dem Originalschlachtfeld mit grossem William Wallace Lookalike Wettbewerb, Englaenderweitwurf und Dudelsackkaraoke. Ausserdem wird die Schlacht originalgetreu (mind you!) reinacted, dieses Jahr unter dem Motto O "Brochan Lom, tana Lom", das ist gaelic fuer "Ich hab dir schon frueher gesacht net allsufest haue". Erwartet wird die creme de la creme der Schlachtenbummler (echt jetz)und Guns'n'Roses. Ohne Scheiss. Tickets gehen weg wie warme Semmeln, ich persoenlich werde es wohl leider nicht schaffen, weil mein Kettenhamd noch in der chemischen Reinigung ist und ich mit meinem Zweihaender in keinen Bus gelassen werde. Schade.
Dafuer entdecke ich Schritt fuer Schritt Edinburgh. Heute fand ich heraus, dass man auch hier bei Waterstone's Buecher erstehen kann (fataaaaal!!) und dass sich ausserdem direkt an der Princes Street, wenn man eine zu frueh abbiegt, eine Kirche mit anschliessendem Church, Verzeihung, Kirkyard befindet. Quasi in der Mauer Gruften, auf der anderen Seite der Mauer Bushaltestelle. Strange. But interesting. Wenig spaeter sass ich dann mit meinem neu erstandenen Buch (seufz) (Terry Pratchett: Eric) in den Princes Street Gardens und wartete auf den Ein Uhr Kanonenschuss, als ein gaenzlich unattraktives Stueck Mann den Huegel herauf gestelzt kam. Ich sah sofort: Hose Arsch, Kaeppi Arsch, Schnauzer Arsch, alles Arsch. Er kam auf mich zu und sagte "ixkjus mi, kenn ju schoh mi se vee tu se casl?" Und ich dacht, ha als de Buggl nuff, was meinsch denn, straight out of Pforzheim? Besann mich aber anders und schickte ihn mit feinstem Englisch rauf zur Esplanade. Den langen Weg. What can I do, I'm just a tourist!
Well anyway. Bye for now aus Edinburgh. Und vergesst nicht: Sie moegen uns unser Leben nehmen, aber niemals nehmen sie uns unsere Freiheit!!

Guten Tag

sagte der kleine Blonde aus der ersten Reihe, um mich gleich darauf zu fragen, ob ich verheiratet sei. Er fragte das ungefaehr vier mal. Und dann nochmal, nachdem sein Kumpel mir die gleiche Frage gestellt hatte. Das erinnerte mich wieder daran, dass ich mich in dem seltsamen Zustand einer Ms befinde (stimmhaftes s). Das bedeutet, keine Miss, eventuell verheiratet, vielleicht geschieden, aber vielleicht auch nichts von dem. Mysterioes halt. Anyways, nachdem ich fuenfmal verneint hatte, verheiratet zu sein (wobei ich nicht sicher bin, ob die kleinen irgendwelche Absichten hatten oder nur schwer von Begriff waren), ging es lustig weiter mit Adjektiven und sonstigen Arten der Beschreibung von Schule, den Faechern, den Lehrern, Mitschuelern etzettera. Das sollte zum ersten Hoehepunkt des Tages fuehren, der sich etwa so anhoehrte: "Main Deutschlehrein izt saehr ald uend haeslick." Gemeint war im Uebrigen nicht ich, sondern Mrs Isobel Macarthur, eine reizende Dame Ende vierzig, Boss des Departments of Modern Languages, in diesem Moment direkt neben mir und einen Augenblick sprachlos. Aber nur kurz. Nach dem lunch gab es eine lustige Hoerverstaendnisuebung mit Tape in der Klasse von Emma (Prototyp der Hairstraightener und spitze Stifeletten Damen aber trotzdem nett), in der nicht nur jemand sich selbst als klein und dick bezeichnet (grosses Gelaechter natuerlich vor allem bei letzterem Feature), sondern auch eine Frauenstimme aufgeregt quakte "Ja, Herr Kellermann! Natuerlich, Herr Kellermann! Ich habe lange rote Haare, Herr Kellermann!" Gaaaanz grosses Kino im Klassenzimmer, Herr Kellermann. Sach doch ma einer dem Kellermann bescheid, dass er in einem Deutschbuch namens Guck Mal erscheint.
Die Beschreibung von Schule und Faechern ist wohl grade ganz grosses Thema, denn kurz vorher (in der Klasse von Kenny Campbell) war ich durch die Reihen gewandert (total lehrerlike) und habe die grossartige, sofort von mir zum statement of the week erkorene Stilbluete entdeckt:
"Ich mag Kunst. Kunst ist geduldig." Ich dachte mir, du hasso recht und hab nix gesagt.
Gestern haben wir (mein Mitbewohner und einige seiner Medizinkommilitonen) zu sechst in einen Nissan Micra gequetscht und sind zu einer Zelebration der Asiatischen und vor allem Indisch/Pakistanischen Kultur gefahren. Ich ass eine Portion Chicken Tikka. Allerdings hatte ich vergessen, was passiert, wenn Inder indisches Essen fuer andere Inder machen. ... Jesus Fucking Krishna on a Turban! Kennt ihr das famose saying "Das brennt zweimal"? Ich dachte bisher, haha, brennt zweimal, lustige Bildersprache. ... Leck mich am Arsch, Bildersprache, deine Mudder Bildersprache. Der totale Burner!!
Mehr News aus dem Verdauugstrake in Baelde.
Es sagt auf widoersaehn und Hare Krishna, Hare Rama!
RamaRamaHareHare,
die Isch

Home sweet home

Nicht nur, dass bei mir um die Ecke ein Lidl ist, bei dem ich lecker Essen und dringendst benoetigtes Reinigungsutensil kaufen kann (und EriK: das mit den Reformhaus hast du falsch verstanden, im Moment steht mir der Sinn noch nich so sehr nach Nuesschen und dried prunes, my choice is Lidl), der Hoehepunkt meines gestrigen Tages war ein encounter of the Freako kind, welches mich fast wieder nach Berlin zurueck beamte, zumindest mental. Ich sass auf dem Rueckweg von der Schule im schoenen, eifrig mit Tartanmuster ausgeschmueckten 31er Bus. Schaute aus dem Fenster. Hinter mir dass ein Typ (mitte 40, unattraktiv, wahrscheinlich Buchhalter), der die ganze Fahrt dabei war, sich zu raeuspern. Nur leider schien er keine Ahnung zu haben, wie man das macht. Zwischendurch gickelte und brabbelte er mit sich selbst, so dass ich also sans cesse eine Geraeuschkulisse hinter meinem linken Ohr hatte, die ungefaehr so ging: Hmhihi, husthhhhhhm hhhm hhhhhmmmmmmmmmmhihi, husthihihmmmmmm hmhmhm hmmmmmmmmm hhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmwhatdefuck hmmmm. So oder so aehnlich. Und es endete so, wie solche Situationen immer enden: alle im Bus, die in Hoehrweite sassen, fingen eifrig an, sich zu raeuspern. Diese Personengruppe beschraenkte sich diesmal leider nur auf mich. Hhhmmhhm.
Gut zu wissen, dass Berlin nich das Spinnermonopol hat.
Ceersmates!
Ms Brown

Dears,

ich hatte einen ueberaus erfolgreichen Tag. Er bagann damit, den richtigen Bus zu nehmen, der mich directly von meinem Haus zu meiner Schule kutschiert. Als ich da war, hab ich viele Leute kennen gelernt, die alle Namen hatten. Ausserdem hab ich mich mit 14jaehrigen (das Wort sieht so echt bescheuert aus) ueber deutsche Fussballteams unterhalten. Dass sie Schalke und Bayern kennen, hat mich nich weiter ueberrascht, aber als dann das Wort Aachen viel, war ich doch fuer einen Moment verunsichert. Der Rest meines Tages bestand aus ans Meer fahren (!) und danach mit Julia aus Leutesheim auf Arthur's Seat klettern und die Sonne versinken sehen. Oder viel wahrscheinlicher wurde sie vom Wind weggeblasen. Jetzt sitze ich in einem Laden namens Honey Pot und hab mich mit Belgian Topped Fries (auf deutsch Pommes rot-weiss) vollgestopft.
Voll gerne wuerd ich euch Photos schicken, aber dazu muss ich erst nen Computer finden, auf dem ich die Software fuer meine neue geile kleine master-of-se-universe Zauberkamera installieren kann. Ich spiele mit dem Gedanken, mir ein Laptop zu kaufen, aber vielleicht frag ich auch einfach Amit, meinen lieblings Medizinstudentenmitbewohner, ob ich seinen Rechner missbrauchen darf.
Oh Gott, bin ich vollgefressen, mein Hirn is ganz verklebt.
Ach so, ja, ich hab auch kuerzlich geheiratet. Meine Ridacard tells me so, auf der in Grossen Lettern geschrieben steht:
Mrs Sabrina Brown.
Heidiho sach ich.
S. Brown, esq.