Part one: sagging socks It starts in early childhood in the form of rough woolen blue or red (there seems no other way) knee high socks, meanders on to the first proudly worn lycra tights and it just never ends: these limpy bastards just won't stay up, exposing the shin to the harsh early spring blizzards or a boot's rubbing leather. (The latter not feeling half as good as it may sound to some.) There just is no escape. It must be written in some book of eternal nuisance rules: socks will sag. For some time, though, they will have us believe that this time, it's going to be different. They will clutch our thighs like a greedy lover, never letting go and staying up all the way all day long. But then, because life wouldn't be life if these things didn't happen, after too short a time, they will lose all their staying power and slowly but inevitably they will slump down to reveal themselves as the pathetic little piles of poo that they really are. And I find myself crouching and fumbling inside my boots and tearing them up again, the same way I used to do it when I was five. Because some things never change.
Part two (on a lighter note): DUI - Dialling Under the Influence We've all done it or at least thought about doing it before and Lady Rach can tell a story or two about it: calling random (or maybe not so random) people after enjoying a "yeah, maybe I had a drink or two"- drink in the company of our partners in crime ... it seems SUCH a good idea at the time! But we also know that these calls tend to backfire on you. Like when you realize you called your ex the night before, but you just can't seem to remember what you told him - and being thankful for the amnesia. Or, even better, calling the guy you've been DYING to get to know all the way better and realising that one drunk call probably had him pack his cases and leave town for a while. ... dammit. But then, there is also this other kind of call, where somebody in a good mood just calls someone in his phonebook just because he or she is such a splendid person and, oh my, we haven't talked in SUCH a long time and, oh, no, were you asleep (at two at night on a weekday...)?! Happened to me last night. I must have been fast asleep because I suddenly found myself on the phone, having missed the first half of the conversation with Louis, my beloved cousin's flatmate, whom I have never met. (I wonder what I told him while I was asleep...). After this conversation, I sent a text to my cousin, telling him I knew EXACTLY what was going on (I think the message said: Ihr trinkt doch Alkohol, ihr Lümmel!) and went back to sleep. Just to be called back by my cousin who told me that he just meant to call me in order to tell me that I am indeed his favourite cousin (yes, you've heard. And my I add that he has at least 14 of them bloody cousins!) and that he was terribly sorry to wake me up and that he would really be ashamed and send me an apologetic text message in the morning (why not now, boy?) but that being the one cousin of so many that he chose to call I should actually be flattered. Which I was. What I also was was awake. For the next two hours or so. And I had to remind him to send me that apologetic text. Tse. Still. It's good to see the kids keep up the old ways and traditions!
...hierüber nämlich. Ich würde gerne wissen, ob die Jungs auch annehmbare Mugge machen, wofür die ich ohne Bedenken meinen Namen hergeben kann, aber meine Stereoanlage ist im Begriff, mich nach 14 Jahren trauter Eintracht krächzend in Richtung Ewige Jagdgründe zu verlassen. Traurich. Auf dem Weg dorthin nimmt sie allem Anschein (und -klang) nach den keuchenden Kühlschrank gleich mit, so dass mein beschränktes Budget und ich uns wohl in allernächster Zukunft mit der Entscheidung zwischen unverdorbenem Essen und lauter Musik konfrontiert sehen. Nun ja. Wie schon Konfusius lehrt:
Rock and Roll gewinnt immer!
PS: Kühlschrank und Anlage: ich hoffe, ihr werdet auf der anderen Seite miteinander glücklich ... ihr Ärsche!