Tuesday, January 31, 2006
"Hey you!!!!! ... The guy with the hat on."
I thought "Well, who's the poor devil being told off first thing in the morning THIS time?" when I realized that there was actually no one around wearing a hat. No one exept me, that is.
I turned around and politely asked "Are you talking to me?", with a this-is-gonna-be-fun expression on my face.
The yeller insisted "Yes, you, the guy with the hat!"
I took off my beautiful Saint Andrews Cross fleece hat that has been doing a great job keeping my head from falling off shock frosted during the last days. (Apparently and for no good reason, the kids are not allowed to wear hats in school. I wasnae aware of that, but obviously that was the reason for this nutter to shout at me.)
I smiled him in the face and said "Well, I'm not a guy. I'm not even a student (and I'd very much appreciate not being shouted at, shithead)!" Obviously I didn't say that last bit, because I, as opposed to others present at that moment, am such a well behaved and good girl.
I startled him enough anyway by turning from the student "guy with the hat on" into a non student woman in the matter of just a split second.
HA! BUGGER! AWAY AN' FLING SHITE AT YERSEL!
When I told him who I was he apologized to me very formally, but didn't bother to tell me his dear name.
I met the guy later in the staircase where he apologized again, asked my permission to introduce himself and told me that he had apologized to MrMillerHeadOfDepartment, too, God knows why.
And you know what? He still didn't tell me his name, despite me allowing him to do so.
And I will keep on wearing my beloved hat IN the building as long as I please. Call me a riot...
la Piece de Persistence
meine Freundin und mit-Languageassistantin Constanze aus Erfudd hat ein neues Lieblingswort. Auf rhetorische, dumme oder sonstige Fragen, die der gebildete Nachwuchsakademiker mit einem charmanten "ja, selbstverstaendlich, Teuerste" beantwortet, antwortet sie seit neuestem mit einem fluchs dahingeschnalzten
...was hab ich getan...???
Monday, January 30, 2006
After a good week of sticking to my new I-will-get-rid-of-this-bodde-lifestyle, comprising covering long distances on foot and eating plenty of veggies and unsweetend cornflakes, monday night saw me contently watching "Megastructures" on Channel Four and munching away on a decent serving of shortbread, washed down by two cups of sugared tea. ... ... DAAAAAAAAAAAHAAM-YOUUUUU, McVitties, I'll see you in HELL!!
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Ich bin bocklos.
Go ahead, spread the word!
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Sunday, January 22, 2006
On my way I passed the local tune dealer, who goes by the Name of Megastore - Virgin Megastore. I entered and I let love in and money out.
Then I took the small roads out of town, went down to the water of Leith walkway, took a little walk to the edge of town and went across the track till I came to where the viaduct looms like a bird of doom.
The path was empty, men and beast hiding from the rain that was pouring down heavily by now. I had left my house without my coat and soon my cloths clung to me like a shroud. So I walked through the rain and I walked through the mud till I came to a place called Newhaven. There was no such thing as a harbour in it and neither was it new; it was small and it was mean and it was cold. Long forgotten factory buildings stretched into the sky like giant teeth. There was no-one around - the streets and shops deserted, the only sound the rain drumming on corrugated sheet roofs.
I finally sheltered in a little fallen down chapel that people must have forgotten long ago.
The rain was clawing at its walls and a vicious wind blew hard and fast, I could hardly see anything outside.
After a while I heard footseps on the path and saw a shape in the rain approaching the chapel. When he got closer I could see it was an old man, walking bended and very slowly. He was soaked to the skin. When he entered the old chapel he looked me in the eye. It felt very strange. Like he had known he'd find me there. I was desperate to break the silence, so when I could no longer take his stare, I asked: "Where are alle the people?" He didn't take his gaze off me when he said: "You must have heard about the curse of Newhaven..." "The curse...?" was all I could utter.
To my relief, he was turning around now and staring into the wind and rain he said: "This city is an ogre, squatting by the river. It gives life but it takes it away..." Softly he spoke these words to me, with brand new eyes, open wide and then, like waking from a dream, he added: "Nobody lives here now."
I stood next to him in the doorway of the old forgotten chapel, trying to pierce the veil of rain with my eyes, and I watched the world as it fell past.
I turned to the old man but he was gone. I looked around in the chapel, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was no other way out than the door in which I was standing. He could not possibly have left without me seeing him. He had vanished into thin air. I heard his voice echoing in my ear..."...nobody lives here now ... nobody lives here now..."
I was terrified. I ran out into the rain, I ran and ran, I stumbled over roots and stones, I could hardly see the path, the rain was in my eyes, blinding me, and still I kept running until finally I saw the outlines of houses and a big white ship I knew lay in the harbour of Leith. The rain seemed to have lessened suddenly and back on the streets of Leith I saw a great big smiling sun. It seemed a good day and an evil day and all was bright and new.
I was horrified and confused, jostling through the crowd of people carrying on regardless of me, listening to their tiny plastic phones.
I took a bus home, closed and locked the door behind me and went into the kitchen for some hot cocoa and some medication and spent the rest of the day shivering in bed.
A couple of days later, a friend and I took the path again, this time in bright sunshine and coming from the other direction. I wanted to show my friend the chapel, but as much as we looked and as far as we went, there was none.
So, the big question of all this mystery is:
what did I buy at Virgin?
Friday, January 20, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Monday, January 16, 2006
white blue blue blue blue blue white
blue white blue blue blue white blue
blue blue white blue white blue blue
blue blue blue white blue blue blue
blue blue white blue white blue blue
blue white blue blue blue white blue
white blue blue blue blue blue white
Ich taufe dieses Gedicht auf den Namen
"Achtung, unbeschrankter Bahnuebergang!".
Warum? Weil ich es kann.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Homerrrr's on our side!!
We are one pair of bad ass dangerous li'l bitches! with antennae.
before the tequila
after the tequila
sudden snow shower
Scheiss im Kreis
And don't forget to turn the other cheek, Goergens, there's a lot more where that came from!!!!! I've got a camera here and I'm not afraid to use it!
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
No Immatrikulationsbescheinigung in the world will ever get me a student's ridacard again.
In the eyes of Lothian Buses (your locally owned buses) I am now officially old - too old to possibly be a student any longer.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Anyway, had I known that this was just the start of one hell of a trip, I would have given in and booked a hotel right then and there.
I picked up my car. A Ford Fiesta. ... TOO SMALL, DAMMIT!! I felt like squeezing into a shoebox, started the 12 PS engine and tuckert off.
The road was really creepy, as between Newcastle and Edinburgh, you pass about two cities in an otherwise deserted stretch of country. There was practically no one on the road, it was late, I was tired and melancholic, it was dark, it was cold, it was raining, it was foggy and I just wanted to get the hell home. On the way I stopped in a town to change the CD, as I just didn't dare even thinking about stopping next to the unlit and lonely road.
I finally made it to more civilized regions, the first time I felt really good was when I passed the summit after which I could see the orange see of illuminated Edinburgh beneath me.
Eventually I reached the city bypass, took the right direction (heyhey!) and already saw me sitting in Lady Rachel's living room, sipping a cup of tee and then going to bed. I knew I had to take the next exit, so when the nice white line on my left hand side turned dotted, I pulled over.
Big fucking mistake.
There was a horrible bang, the car slowed down suddenly and the hub cap came flying over my head and crashed onto the street, where it was to be run over several times until this present moment.
I stopped the car and got out.
The tire had retired. It was a goner! What I had mistaken for my exit was in fact the entrance to an emergency layby, which was seperated from the motorway by a kerb.
Which was completely unilluminated and in the dark not to be seen.
Which I had hit.
With the left front tire.
At 70 miles an hour.
First thing I tried to call the Hertz people.
Which I couldn't with my german mobile.
I then went over to the emergency phone in order to call a towing truck. Which didn't work. (I didn't know that emergency phones can say "sorry, your call can not be copleted as dialled...", but apparently they can.)
I also tried to stop someone, but no-one did. Either they didn't see me or they are all a bunch of fucking cunts! Either way, I felt as low as a snake's belly in a pit.
I was cold, I was tired, I was all alone right next to a freaking motorway just ten minutes before home. I just needed someone to help me, pleeeease!
So I called Paraguay Woman, who got me out of this mess by calling the Hertz people for me who then sent someone to help me. A chubby little man with the worst accent I had ever heard. He was mumbling, too and also my towning-truck-man-slang kind of seems to need working on. At least the friendly little man changed the tire and also I had managed to call the police in the meanwhile. The Hertz guy had told me to and so I did. Whatever!
The two police officers arrived just after the chubby one had finished the tire changing. They just made sure that everything was fine and I could drive off.
After the shock had ebbed down, it dawned on me: it was just a silly flat tire. I had the spare tire. I had the tools. I could have changed that thing myself.
...OH NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! PANDEMONIUM STRIKES AGAIN!!! I'M A WOMAN DRIVER!!!! I WILL HAVE TO BUY A REAR-VIEW-MIRROR-DIDDL-MOUSE AND SOME STUFFED ANIMALS TO COMPLETELY COVER MY DASH BOARD!!! AAARHGGG!
In my defense:
My spirits were more then low. The help I needed was more of the mental and moral kind. Had I not been alone, things might have been different.
Also a real woman driver probably doesn't know what a dashboard is. (It's the thing in front of you, Ladies, the one covered in cute little stuffed things that will turn into cute little ballistic missiles once you have a crash which sooner or later you are very likely to!)
Sorry, I needed that for my ego.
Eventually, I drove off, direction of Brunswick Street, to meet my Lady saviour. Ten minutes later I turned a corner into her street, when I saw something bright and colourful in my rear view mirror. It was blue to be precise. And flashing. And it had "POLICE" written on it. They obviously wanted me to stop.
I had to think of Charly the Unicorn, yelling "I'm right here, whaddouyou want??"
There was a nice officer, almost apologizing for stopping me, asking me whether I would mind stepping out of the car for a second. Of course I didn't. Again: whatever!
He told me that there seemed to be something wrong with my car and I told him that I had recently had a minor accident. "When was that?" he asked and I looked him in the eye and said "I left the scene ten minutes ago." I also told him that there had been two collegues of him, which one of the other police men checked. He then took my details, asked me whether I had drunk anything that night and then was very impressed by my driving licence. ("Wow, that looks formal!" - "Yes, we Germans are very serious about our driving licences.")
Two minutes later I finally reached my destination, more dead then alive, tried to completely get over my shock and an hour or so later finally went to bed.
It was half three by then, and I had to get up at about ten, because, of course, no flat tire in the world can stop us from watching Gilmore Girls on saturday mornings.
The poor little car!!
It's not his fault he is that small, he got abused, hurt and, during the night, shat on twice by birds.
The lesson learned can only be:
Next time a bigger car again, everything else is bad luck!