Based on your birthday ...
You are curious and a true follower. You can please someone so much that it seem like you are trying to charm that person. You hide your disagreement under your smiling face. This is a charming quality of yours. Your Love, You are quite unlucky in love. You are loved by someone you don't like while your dream person is so far away. Your love life is occasionally under turbulence. Sometimes you don't have the clear view of the guy/gal in your heart.
Ok, you ugly bastards, which one of you is hitting on me?
And as for "turbulence" ... let's not go there...
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life ... and also: CHACKKAAAAA!
Having spent the morning in businesswoman mode, visualizing by means of nice clean merciless printouts all I still have to do, studywise, and do in the shortest possible time, I noticed the following things:
1) It's not even 10 a.m. and I've already been quite productive. Important mails have been written, the adressees including various secretaries, professors and the like, information has been obtained, knowledge gained and now I have a fully grown PLAN.
2) The enemy is in my grasp! Yes, I will be terribly busy for the next big fistful of months, but:
3) I can roundhouse kick that somebitch of a romanistic department inna face!
and, most pressingly on my mind:
4) I definitely need a new mouse for my PC, cause this one is driving me NUTS!!!
After all this work (both future and at hand), I am rewarding my racing mind with a picture of pure and blissful tranquility; maybe this one:
hübsch, nich wahr?
So, life ordered, important lessons learned, breathed deep and found utter determination.
And all that before breakfast. If that isn't a Chuck Norris start of the day, I don't know what is!
1) It's not even 10 a.m. and I've already been quite productive. Important mails have been written, the adressees including various secretaries, professors and the like, information has been obtained, knowledge gained and now I have a fully grown PLAN.
2) The enemy is in my grasp! Yes, I will be terribly busy for the next big fistful of months, but:
3) I can roundhouse kick that somebitch of a romanistic department inna face!
and, most pressingly on my mind:
4) I definitely need a new mouse for my PC, cause this one is driving me NUTS!!!
After all this work (both future and at hand), I am rewarding my racing mind with a picture of pure and blissful tranquility; maybe this one:
hübsch, nich wahr?
So, life ordered, important lessons learned, breathed deep and found utter determination.
And all that before breakfast. If that isn't a Chuck Norris start of the day, I don't know what is!
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Na bidde
Found my destination!
You know how it is: you keep looking for something (a new shirt, say, or the night's brew of choice) and after spending ages browsing through everything, you end up with the very first thing that caught your attention.
When I was a wee lass of six years, I wanted to be Colt Sievers when I grow up.
I am grown up now and having found out last night that I am in fact Burt Reynold's and Sally Field's (who even gets mentioned in the title song. Coincidence? I dinnae think so!) secret lovechild, the Colt Sievers walk of life somehow seems to have moved into grasp. It is pre-ordained!
And I even already have the glasses!
So from now on, call me Colt and also why don't you just drop by and help me carry the bathtub into the yard...
You know how it is: you keep looking for something (a new shirt, say, or the night's brew of choice) and after spending ages browsing through everything, you end up with the very first thing that caught your attention.
When I was a wee lass of six years, I wanted to be Colt Sievers when I grow up.
I am grown up now and having found out last night that I am in fact Burt Reynold's and Sally Field's (who even gets mentioned in the title song. Coincidence? I dinnae think so!) secret lovechild, the Colt Sievers walk of life somehow seems to have moved into grasp. It is pre-ordained!
And I even already have the glasses!
So from now on, call me Colt and also why don't you just drop by and help me carry the bathtub into the yard...
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Was man so alles in der Post kricht
The following has just been sent to me by a fellow
"I want all the boxes ticked"- Lady:
Top Eight Reasons to Date an Engineer
8. Fatigue is never an issue
7. No "couple" enjoy a better "moment".
6. We know how to handle stress and strain in a relationship.
5. We have significant figures.
4. We understand the motion of rigid bodies.
3. Engineers do it to specification.
2. We know it's not the length of the vector that counts,
but how youapply the force.
1. WE KNOW THE RIGHT HAND RULE!
Obviously, this only applies to the non-Karohemd wearing branch
of said special kind of human beings...
Sunday, January 27, 2008
OUR HERO!!
Was ist eigentlich los grade?
Meine Mudder verklagt mein Vadder auf 112 000 Euro (warum? Fuck knows!),
Leute, die ich für engste Freunde hielt, finden mich auf einmal nich mehr spannend genug (vereinfachte Darstellung, die Details würden den Rahmen sprengen),
Angela Merkel trinkt Tee im Garten mit Osama seine Mudder,
und nun DAS:
aus gut unterrichteten Quellen wird verlautbart, dass Tom Cruise, seineszeichens komplett indiskutabel, sich zur extrem-Stimulation der Prostata lebende, in Plasticktüten gesteckte Hamster in den Popo schieben lässt.
All das lässt nur einen Schluss zu: die welt ist komplett übergeschnappt und wir brauchen dringend einen Superhelden. Einen neuen Superhelden, weil Superman degeneriert und Batman vom Aussterben bedroht ist:
Es ist Zeit für
den Superhelden unserer Zeit. Backpfeifen-Man kommt dahin, wo der Hirnschwund am größten ist (klingt komisch, is aber so) und erschüttert mithilfe seiner behandschuhten rechten Kelle die Gehirne der Befallenen, auf dass sie wieder zu klarem Verstand kommen. Er will keinen Dank (kricht er meistens auch sowieso nich), verschwindet in der nächsten überfüllten U-Bahn und verdingt sich nebenher als Werbefigur für eine Baumarktkette (Hand drauf!).
Also, wenn auch SIE sich die Haare ob der schwindenden Anzahl Hirnzellen ihrer Umwelt raufen:
rufen sie 0800 555-FRATZENGEBALLER und Backpfeifen-Man wird Ihnen helfen... Hand drauf!
Meine Mudder verklagt mein Vadder auf 112 000 Euro (warum? Fuck knows!),
Leute, die ich für engste Freunde hielt, finden mich auf einmal nich mehr spannend genug (vereinfachte Darstellung, die Details würden den Rahmen sprengen),
Angela Merkel trinkt Tee im Garten mit Osama seine Mudder,
und nun DAS:
aus gut unterrichteten Quellen wird verlautbart, dass Tom Cruise, seineszeichens komplett indiskutabel, sich zur extrem-Stimulation der Prostata lebende, in Plasticktüten gesteckte Hamster in den Popo schieben lässt.
All das lässt nur einen Schluss zu: die welt ist komplett übergeschnappt und wir brauchen dringend einen Superhelden. Einen neuen Superhelden, weil Superman degeneriert und Batman vom Aussterben bedroht ist:
Es ist Zeit für
BACKPFEIFEN-MAN!!,
den Superhelden unserer Zeit. Backpfeifen-Man kommt dahin, wo der Hirnschwund am größten ist (klingt komisch, is aber so) und erschüttert mithilfe seiner behandschuhten rechten Kelle die Gehirne der Befallenen, auf dass sie wieder zu klarem Verstand kommen. Er will keinen Dank (kricht er meistens auch sowieso nich), verschwindet in der nächsten überfüllten U-Bahn und verdingt sich nebenher als Werbefigur für eine Baumarktkette (Hand drauf!).
Also, wenn auch SIE sich die Haare ob der schwindenden Anzahl Hirnzellen ihrer Umwelt raufen:
rufen sie 0800 555-FRATZENGEBALLER und Backpfeifen-Man wird Ihnen helfen... Hand drauf!
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Saturday, January 12, 2008
nocturnal roamer
Walking through Berlin streets tonight, I had a strange sensation of being akin to this place. Very much like myself, the city is waiting for spring to finally come when we both know that winter has really only just started, inside and out...
Spring is not due for quite a while yet, so we're lying in wait, not holding our breaths...
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Soooo small...!
Here she is: brand new, a wee crooked worm clad in soft attire and smelling of baby roses:
Born on Boxing day 2007, 53 cm of height, sleeping most of the time and when she's not, she's busy digesting. I've only seen her once and already I lover her to bits: my as-good-as-niece, Melinda Emilie Jazz.
Clap your hands and join the cheer!!!
Born on Boxing day 2007, 53 cm of height, sleeping most of the time and when she's not, she's busy digesting. I've only seen her once and already I lover her to bits: my as-good-as-niece, Melinda Emilie Jazz.
Clap your hands and join the cheer!!!
Monday, January 07, 2008
Monday, December 24, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Darf ich vorstellen:
Meine zwei neuen Mitbewohner:
Einmal die Nummer 86: aphatisce fishc sueß sauer ohne Reis in große Schüssel.
Ich wusste nich, dass Fische schlafen können, oder besser ich meinte zu wissen, dass Fische im Allgemeinen nicht schlafen können. Aber Max und Moritz (!) haben mich da eines Besseren belehrt.
Und überhaupt, was geflechtes Abhängen angeht kann man nur den Hut ziehen vor diesen beiden Schergen. Wenn man nich mal mehr sein eigenes Körpergewicht tragen muss, sondern nur in der nicht vorhandenen Strömung rumliegt und wartet, bis das Essen einem in den Mund fällt, ohne dabei unansehnlich fett zu werden, dann hat man doch wohl irgendwas richtig gemacht.
Also: Chapeau!
Einmal die Nummer 86: aphatisce fishc sueß sauer ohne Reis in große Schüssel.
Ich wusste nich, dass Fische schlafen können, oder besser ich meinte zu wissen, dass Fische im Allgemeinen nicht schlafen können. Aber Max und Moritz (!) haben mich da eines Besseren belehrt.
Und überhaupt, was geflechtes Abhängen angeht kann man nur den Hut ziehen vor diesen beiden Schergen. Wenn man nich mal mehr sein eigenes Körpergewicht tragen muss, sondern nur in der nicht vorhandenen Strömung rumliegt und wartet, bis das Essen einem in den Mund fällt, ohne dabei unansehnlich fett zu werden, dann hat man doch wohl irgendwas richtig gemacht.
Also: Chapeau!
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Homicidal Psycho Hängeschrank
Welcome to my little action kitchen in my little action world!
Last week, I had one of those wonderful fits, where you kind of lose concience and when you wake up, everything in your flat is neet and tidy. Unfortunately, this fit didn't last until the kitchen. So I took, sobermindedly once again, to redecorating my kitchen, the one place in my flat left messy.
To be precise, I took to FINALLY putting up my vintage wall cabinet with the help of Devon Hunt and my wonderful power-drill (I lovingly call her "die Bohr").
After twenty minutes of Chuck Norris action-drilling, the cabinet was up and I contently stored my cups, tea, noodles, baking utensils and other nicknack in it.
The next day, I was sitting in my kitchen, still relishing the newly won spaciousness of my kitchen and adoring my ugly old Hängeschrank. While lost in thought, I was drinking a cup of tea and absent mindedly staring at a teapot, which my predecessor in this here flat left in the kitchen when he moved out.
It was in the shape of an old stove, with a frying pan and a tin of baked beans on top and everything. Ever since I moved here, this relic has been sitting on my kitchen table. I have never used it and probably never will.
I wondered should I throw it away? No, I thought, cannae do that, poor little thing, it's not its fault it looks weird.
I then proceeded to store all my dutiful housewife appliances on top of the cabinet. I left the room to light some candles in the bedroom.
WHRROOOOOOOSH!!!
I rushed into the kitchen and found myself in a landscape scarred by war.
The cupboard had come down, missing my radio cassette cd player by a mere half inch, spilling its guts onto the kitchen floor and digging its hard sides into the wooden table.
The oven teapot had taken a direct hit. It was a goner! Its remains lay in a milion pieces amidst a pack of rice and what was left of my favourite mug and its companions.
Was it suicide? Or was it rather a vicious plot carried out by suicidal terrorist mugs? Or did the cupboard itself lose its will to live and tried to take its own life (after twenty years of being an ugly cupboard, who could blame it?)? Or was it am attempt to kill ME???? I cannot tell, the truth lies buried with the victims; there were no survivors.
I took a deep breath and told myself that, after being run over by a car the night before, this was nothing more than a nuisance. I could handle it. My cups were broken, but I could handle it. The kitchen was a mess, but I could handle it. The floor was covered in rice and tiny pieces of earthenware, but I could the fuck handle it.
For a minute or so, I was completely calm.
The the Chuck Norris in me took over again.
I ripped everything that remained in it out of the cupboard. I took the still twitching mass of my cupboard down from the table where it had landed, roundhouse kicked out its back and finished the bugger.
I punched and kicked and jumped on it, until it was nothing but a heap of laminated pressboard. This I dumped in the staircase, spat on it and slammed the door.
On monday I went to IKEA, bought a new cabinet, went back on wednedsay because the hinges didn't work and am going back today because the new ones don't either.
While I'm away, enjoy this!
Last week, I had one of those wonderful fits, where you kind of lose concience and when you wake up, everything in your flat is neet and tidy. Unfortunately, this fit didn't last until the kitchen. So I took, sobermindedly once again, to redecorating my kitchen, the one place in my flat left messy.
To be precise, I took to FINALLY putting up my vintage wall cabinet with the help of Devon Hunt and my wonderful power-drill (I lovingly call her "die Bohr").
After twenty minutes of Chuck Norris action-drilling, the cabinet was up and I contently stored my cups, tea, noodles, baking utensils and other nicknack in it.
The next day, I was sitting in my kitchen, still relishing the newly won spaciousness of my kitchen and adoring my ugly old Hängeschrank. While lost in thought, I was drinking a cup of tea and absent mindedly staring at a teapot, which my predecessor in this here flat left in the kitchen when he moved out.
It was in the shape of an old stove, with a frying pan and a tin of baked beans on top and everything. Ever since I moved here, this relic has been sitting on my kitchen table. I have never used it and probably never will.
I wondered should I throw it away? No, I thought, cannae do that, poor little thing, it's not its fault it looks weird.
I then proceeded to store all my dutiful housewife appliances on top of the cabinet. I left the room to light some candles in the bedroom.
WHRROOOOOOOSH!!!
I rushed into the kitchen and found myself in a landscape scarred by war.
The cupboard had come down, missing my radio cassette cd player by a mere half inch, spilling its guts onto the kitchen floor and digging its hard sides into the wooden table.
The oven teapot had taken a direct hit. It was a goner! Its remains lay in a milion pieces amidst a pack of rice and what was left of my favourite mug and its companions.
Was it suicide? Or was it rather a vicious plot carried out by suicidal terrorist mugs? Or did the cupboard itself lose its will to live and tried to take its own life (after twenty years of being an ugly cupboard, who could blame it?)? Or was it am attempt to kill ME???? I cannot tell, the truth lies buried with the victims; there were no survivors.
I took a deep breath and told myself that, after being run over by a car the night before, this was nothing more than a nuisance. I could handle it. My cups were broken, but I could handle it. The kitchen was a mess, but I could handle it. The floor was covered in rice and tiny pieces of earthenware, but I could the fuck handle it.
For a minute or so, I was completely calm.
The the Chuck Norris in me took over again.
I ripped everything that remained in it out of the cupboard. I took the still twitching mass of my cupboard down from the table where it had landed, roundhouse kicked out its back and finished the bugger.
I punched and kicked and jumped on it, until it was nothing but a heap of laminated pressboard. This I dumped in the staircase, spat on it and slammed the door.
On monday I went to IKEA, bought a new cabinet, went back on wednedsay because the hinges didn't work and am going back today because the new ones don't either.
While I'm away, enjoy this!
Monday, November 26, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Und Angela Merkel trinkt Tee im Garten mit Osama seine Mudder...
Heute in der Bahn habe ich wieder viel gelernt. Der Jüngling in der Bankreihe neben mir bemerkte zu einer der ihn begleitenden Hoppelschnitten:
"Die Kirche hat im Namen des Glaubens abermillionen von Menschen umgebracht. Auf den Kreuzzügen und so weiter..."
Ich fand das schon eine relativ eloquent und souverän vorgetragene Äußerung, die die junge Dame ihm gegenüber schlagfertig kommentierte:
"Das is doch alles gar nich erwiesen...!"
Auch ich bin seit diesem frühnachmittäglichen AUGENÖFFNER völlig sicher, dass das alles mit den Kreuzzügen, mit der von niemand erwarteten spanischen/italieneischen/portugiesischen Inquisition und mit der Verbrennung von Andersdenkern, dem in Käfige sperren von Frauen die Salbe machen können oder eine Warze auf der Nase haben, dem lustigen Ausweiden, kastrieren, in mehrere Teile teilen, dem auf Räder spannen und jeden lustigen Knochen einzeln mit dem Knüppel kaputt hauen, das unmotivierte Abfackeln von Lebendmaterial...
das haben sich doch nur Kim Jong-Il und Osama Bin Laden ausgedacht, um Jesus schlecht zu machen!
Außerdem hab ich heute gelernt, dass meine Pfannkuchen ganz anders aussehen als die von meiner Mutter,
dass die Bequemlichkeit meiner Schuhe in hohem Maße von der zu tragenden Last meiner Schultern abhängt,
dass es möglich ist, bei IKEA einkaufen zu gehen, ohne Teelichter zu kaufen (ja-haaa!),
dass es außer meinen beiden ex Mitbewohnern Pav und Amit nur noch M.G. aus D. gibt als Männer, die Desperate Housewives gucken
und dass mein Putzmittel mir zwar endloses Niesvergnügen bereitet, aber entgegen meiner Befürchtungen keine Placken auf der Haut.
Was für ein kluger Tag das!
"Die Kirche hat im Namen des Glaubens abermillionen von Menschen umgebracht. Auf den Kreuzzügen und so weiter..."
Ich fand das schon eine relativ eloquent und souverän vorgetragene Äußerung, die die junge Dame ihm gegenüber schlagfertig kommentierte:
"Das is doch alles gar nich erwiesen...!"
Auch ich bin seit diesem frühnachmittäglichen AUGENÖFFNER völlig sicher, dass das alles mit den Kreuzzügen, mit der von niemand erwarteten spanischen/italieneischen/portugiesischen Inquisition und mit der Verbrennung von Andersdenkern, dem in Käfige sperren von Frauen die Salbe machen können oder eine Warze auf der Nase haben, dem lustigen Ausweiden, kastrieren, in mehrere Teile teilen, dem auf Räder spannen und jeden lustigen Knochen einzeln mit dem Knüppel kaputt hauen, das unmotivierte Abfackeln von Lebendmaterial...
das haben sich doch nur Kim Jong-Il und Osama Bin Laden ausgedacht, um Jesus schlecht zu machen!
Außerdem hab ich heute gelernt, dass meine Pfannkuchen ganz anders aussehen als die von meiner Mutter,
dass die Bequemlichkeit meiner Schuhe in hohem Maße von der zu tragenden Last meiner Schultern abhängt,
dass es möglich ist, bei IKEA einkaufen zu gehen, ohne Teelichter zu kaufen (ja-haaa!),
dass es außer meinen beiden ex Mitbewohnern Pav und Amit nur noch M.G. aus D. gibt als Männer, die Desperate Housewives gucken
und dass mein Putzmittel mir zwar endloses Niesvergnügen bereitet, aber entgegen meiner Befürchtungen keine Placken auf der Haut.
Was für ein kluger Tag das!
Friday, November 16, 2007
Ein typischer Dialog im Leben der Frau F.
Steffen: "Ey, Scheise, ich bin in Hamburg hab mein Fahrrad hier, die Bahn streikt und ich muss unbedingt nach Berlin zurück. Kannst du ein Auto mieten, hier her fahren, mich und das Fahrrad einpacken und nach Berlin bringen? Jetzt gleich?"
Iche: "... ... ja sicher."
Die Achterbahn Leben fährt auch nich langsamer, wenn man Öl auf die Schienen gießt.
Aber langsam is eh blöd.
Iche: "... ... ja sicher."
Die Achterbahn Leben fährt auch nich langsamer, wenn man Öl auf die Schienen gießt.
Aber langsam is eh blöd.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Of Life, justice and a fox on the way home
Tonight I was working late, as one of my collegues gave everybody interested a coaching about dislexia. I had thought about taking the train this morning, but then I thought better
(or worse) of it and took my little racer bike. After the coaching it turned out that said collegue lives close by and that he would gladly give me a lift home in his car, an offer I had to refuse because I was there by bike, a much less alluring option for the way home. (Darrrn!)
Anyway, it was about half past nine and I was on my way home, when I almost ran over a fox. It had been sitting on the path and only saved itself by a daughty jump into the grass next to the S-Bahn track.
It was chewing.
It the dawned on me that I had disturbed this red coated fellow while it was having a mouse over for dinner. "It would have been mere justice if I had run you over", I thought "and that's what you get in life."
But then my mind stated racing. "That's not true, you know. Life is not just." And I started pondering ... because it IS true.
Life is not just.
Mouse dies, fox lives. Sabrina rides her bike through the cold, Töns (yes, that's really his name) cruises home warm and comfortably in his Astra. Life is not something where things are shared equally, because that's just the way life is. There is no justice.
I then got to think about owing people or being owed and it's the same thing there. Justice does not come into it, because it's all a matter of perspective. I was glad I hadn't run over the fox (and so was it I bet), because foxes are cute and cuddly. Feeling that people owe you does not necessarily mean they feel the same way, because the innate truth about perspective is that not everyone has the same as otherwise it wouldn't be perspective, it would just be ... I don't know ... spective probably.
So my mind raced away in a hurlyburly of thoughts as mixed up even as I write them down here and I raced along with it on my bike. I got home at a quarter to ten; cold, exhausted and awfully tired. My limbs are shaking because I didn't have time to eat anything proper today and now I am too tired, letting alone the fact that there is NOTHING to eat in the house whatsoever. I work one limb or another off during the week, don't heed my studies as much as I should in order to be able to pay my rent and have the occasional slice of Pizza and then I get home knackeder in the evening with no prospective of even a slice of Käsebrot.
Because life is not just.
And what do I do with that? Try to change the way of the world? I don't think so.
Become a cynic? Heavens, sometimes I think I already am.
But I'm still glad I didn't run over that fox. Whatever way the world is going; sometimes cute and cuddly is just the more convincing argument. Tells you a lot about life, I think.
Good fight, good night.
(or worse) of it and took my little racer bike. After the coaching it turned out that said collegue lives close by and that he would gladly give me a lift home in his car, an offer I had to refuse because I was there by bike, a much less alluring option for the way home. (Darrrn!)
Anyway, it was about half past nine and I was on my way home, when I almost ran over a fox. It had been sitting on the path and only saved itself by a daughty jump into the grass next to the S-Bahn track.
It was chewing.
It the dawned on me that I had disturbed this red coated fellow while it was having a mouse over for dinner. "It would have been mere justice if I had run you over", I thought "and that's what you get in life."
But then my mind stated racing. "That's not true, you know. Life is not just." And I started pondering ... because it IS true.
Life is not just.
Mouse dies, fox lives. Sabrina rides her bike through the cold, Töns (yes, that's really his name) cruises home warm and comfortably in his Astra. Life is not something where things are shared equally, because that's just the way life is. There is no justice.
I then got to think about owing people or being owed and it's the same thing there. Justice does not come into it, because it's all a matter of perspective. I was glad I hadn't run over the fox (and so was it I bet), because foxes are cute and cuddly. Feeling that people owe you does not necessarily mean they feel the same way, because the innate truth about perspective is that not everyone has the same as otherwise it wouldn't be perspective, it would just be ... I don't know ... spective probably.
So my mind raced away in a hurlyburly of thoughts as mixed up even as I write them down here and I raced along with it on my bike. I got home at a quarter to ten; cold, exhausted and awfully tired. My limbs are shaking because I didn't have time to eat anything proper today and now I am too tired, letting alone the fact that there is NOTHING to eat in the house whatsoever. I work one limb or another off during the week, don't heed my studies as much as I should in order to be able to pay my rent and have the occasional slice of Pizza and then I get home knackeder in the evening with no prospective of even a slice of Käsebrot.
Because life is not just.
And what do I do with that? Try to change the way of the world? I don't think so.
Become a cynic? Heavens, sometimes I think I already am.
But I'm still glad I didn't run over that fox. Whatever way the world is going; sometimes cute and cuddly is just the more convincing argument. Tells you a lot about life, I think.
Good fight, good night.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Montag, 9:15h: Feindkontakt
Ich war also in aller Frühe (jaja, OK, esgehtso früh) mit meinem schicken Mietwagen auf dem Weg nach Tegel, um das schniiiieke Dingen dort wieder irgendeinem fremden Mann auszuhändigen. Ich war einigermaßen spät dran, denn ich hatte nicht früher Lust zum Aufstehen gehabt und hatte auch außerdem nicht damit gerechnet, ne halbe Stunde von mir zu Hause bis zum Tiergartentunnel zu brauchen. Ich wollte also nur mel eben schnell noch tanken, schwenke auf die Tankstelle ein und es ergibt sich folgender Anblick:
Alle Zapfsäulen voll, komplett mit alle, nur an einer steht eine verlorene A-Klasse, komplett mit Pelzträgerin daneben. Dem Fachmann fiel sofort die alte Autofahrerweisheit ein: das Wichtigste beim Tanken ist, das Auto mithilfe des an der Zapfsäule befestigten Rüssels mit den unterirdischen Kraftstofftänken der Anlage zu verbinden.
Dies war hier nicht gegeben. Die Frau sah mit ihrem Pelzjäckchen und dem Gutschitäschchen auch nich aus, als hätte sie irgendeine Ahnung, wo sie hier is oder was sie machen soll. Ich dachte also, die wartet auf ihren MANN, der drinne am Bezahlen is und so alsbald den Weg frei machen würde, so dass auch ich etwas blauen Gogojuice zapfen könnte.
HA!
HASTE GEDACHT!
Das Pelztierchen näherte sich mir und als ich das Fenster runterließ, steckte sie ihr Hohlköppchen zu mir hinunter und sprach:
"Es kann sein, dass es ein Bisschen länger dauert, ich muss erst rausfinden, wie ich den Tankdeckel aufkriege."
WHU-AT?????
"Ja, die Angestellten hier sind grade alle beschäftigt..."
Die ham auch weiß Gott verdammt besserers zu tun als sich um hirnlose Hoppelschnitten zu kümmern, die den ganzen Verkehr aufhalten.
Ich wusste ECHT nich, was ich sagen sollte. Außer vielleicht "beiseite, Weib!", aber das sagt man ja nich zu fremden Leuten.
Ich sagte also stattdessen: "Ich guck ma."
Die nächsten 20 Sekunden verbrachte ich damit, im Cockpit nach dem Knöpfchen zu suchen, was den Tankdeckel aufschnappern lässt. Es gab aber keins.
Also ging ich mal zum Tankdeckel und drückte druff. Und siehe da : Plopp! War gar nich so schwer.
Wer jetzt glaubt, das Problem sei aus der Welt geschafft, der hat die Rechnung ohne Gloria (so hieß die BESTIMMT) gemacht!
"Oh, wie geht das Ding da drinnen denn auf?"
"Das Ding is ein Schraubverschluss. Das geht auf wenn man schraubt." Ahhh, dumme Gans. "Oh, der geht aber schwer auf. Naja, wir Frauen halt..." sprich für dich oder es gibt ne dicke Lippe!
Das nächste Problem auf der Agenda war die Wahl des richtigen Treibstoffs.
Ich so: "Is das ein Diesel?"
Gloria so: "Weiß nich."
Ich so: "Na von außen kann ich das jetz auch nich erkennen, aber das hört man am Geräu...", ach, vergisses.
Ich verhalf jedenfalls der Lady, die während der ganzen Zeit verkrampft ihr Achselschweißfängerhandtäschchen festklemmte, zu einer Ladung Normalbenzin (denn verbleit, das gibt es schon seit Jahren nich mehr in diesem Land).
Und während ich so da stand und endlich auch tanken konnte, dachte ich an die weisen Worte von Herrn Johnston:
"Glauben Sie nicht, dass lehren nur etwas ist, was Sie in der Uni oder der Schule machen. Der Lehrauftrag ist ein universeller! Gehen Sie raus und lehren Sie überall!!"
Aber mal im Ernst, Herr Johnston: von Rechts wegen hätte ich ihr die Luft aus den Reifen lassen und sie zur U-Bahn schicken sollen!
Alle Zapfsäulen voll, komplett mit alle, nur an einer steht eine verlorene A-Klasse, komplett mit Pelzträgerin daneben. Dem Fachmann fiel sofort die alte Autofahrerweisheit ein: das Wichtigste beim Tanken ist, das Auto mithilfe des an der Zapfsäule befestigten Rüssels mit den unterirdischen Kraftstofftänken der Anlage zu verbinden.
Dies war hier nicht gegeben. Die Frau sah mit ihrem Pelzjäckchen und dem Gutschitäschchen auch nich aus, als hätte sie irgendeine Ahnung, wo sie hier is oder was sie machen soll. Ich dachte also, die wartet auf ihren MANN, der drinne am Bezahlen is und so alsbald den Weg frei machen würde, so dass auch ich etwas blauen Gogojuice zapfen könnte.
HA!
HASTE GEDACHT!
Das Pelztierchen näherte sich mir und als ich das Fenster runterließ, steckte sie ihr Hohlköppchen zu mir hinunter und sprach:
"Es kann sein, dass es ein Bisschen länger dauert, ich muss erst rausfinden, wie ich den Tankdeckel aufkriege."
WHU-AT?????
"Ja, die Angestellten hier sind grade alle beschäftigt..."
Die ham auch weiß Gott verdammt besserers zu tun als sich um hirnlose Hoppelschnitten zu kümmern, die den ganzen Verkehr aufhalten.
Ich wusste ECHT nich, was ich sagen sollte. Außer vielleicht "beiseite, Weib!", aber das sagt man ja nich zu fremden Leuten.
Ich sagte also stattdessen: "Ich guck ma."
Die nächsten 20 Sekunden verbrachte ich damit, im Cockpit nach dem Knöpfchen zu suchen, was den Tankdeckel aufschnappern lässt. Es gab aber keins.
Also ging ich mal zum Tankdeckel und drückte druff. Und siehe da : Plopp! War gar nich so schwer.
Wer jetzt glaubt, das Problem sei aus der Welt geschafft, der hat die Rechnung ohne Gloria (so hieß die BESTIMMT) gemacht!
"Oh, wie geht das Ding da drinnen denn auf?"
"Das Ding is ein Schraubverschluss. Das geht auf wenn man schraubt." Ahhh, dumme Gans. "Oh, der geht aber schwer auf. Naja, wir Frauen halt..." sprich für dich oder es gibt ne dicke Lippe!
Das nächste Problem auf der Agenda war die Wahl des richtigen Treibstoffs.
Ich so: "Is das ein Diesel?"
Gloria so: "Weiß nich."
Ich so: "Na von außen kann ich das jetz auch nich erkennen, aber das hört man am Geräu...", ach, vergisses.
Ich verhalf jedenfalls der Lady, die während der ganzen Zeit verkrampft ihr Achselschweißfängerhandtäschchen festklemmte, zu einer Ladung Normalbenzin (denn verbleit, das gibt es schon seit Jahren nich mehr in diesem Land).
Und während ich so da stand und endlich auch tanken konnte, dachte ich an die weisen Worte von Herrn Johnston:
"Glauben Sie nicht, dass lehren nur etwas ist, was Sie in der Uni oder der Schule machen. Der Lehrauftrag ist ein universeller! Gehen Sie raus und lehren Sie überall!!"
Aber mal im Ernst, Herr Johnston: von Rechts wegen hätte ich ihr die Luft aus den Reifen lassen und sie zur U-Bahn schicken sollen!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Good Things In Life des Tages, Kapitel IV
Finding awareness
about who to play with and who not, about big people taking care of little people, about what's important, who to hang on to and who to let go and about the irreplacableness of a good cry in the cosy warmth of a friend's kitchen combined with orange flavoured tea...
..now come on, life, you bitch! Do your worst!!!
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Most giantest sneeze in the whole fucking universe
Thing with life is that it always gets you unawares.
Last weekend I was paying a visit to my pregnant friend Jenny and her boyfr... I'm sorry ... husband (oh my GOD!!!) Christian in Halleannersaale. We were all sitting in the kitchen and they were deep in conversation about ... magic potions? griffin rides? buying a new sword I cannae remember. I wasn't really listening for a moment, enclosed in my own little world and thinking lightly about ... what the flying FUCK I wanna do in my life, when all of a sudden, the answer presented itself. It wasn't just a bright idea or a, what we call in German, Geistesblitz, I was having a copper bottom, 24 carat
I've been thinking about where to go and what to do in life for at least the eight years of my very quite rather unsuccessful studying around, never getting anywhere much, apart from, OK, so I'm gonna be a teacher, yeah, I can do that. But the one thing that would be my call in life, the ONE thing I really really wanted to do just wouldn't come to mind, as much and as hard as I ever thought about it. It was just like waiting for a sneeze that won't come out properly, you can feel it scavaging around in yer nose, you want it, you need it but naught will happen, leaving you empty and stupid-faced and then, all of a sudden and without previous anouncement: BAM!!! ... HATCHOOOOOO!!!!!!!! there goes half your brain and oh, doesn't it just feel amazing, a precious little nose-orgasm!
The best thing is: it doesn't even matter what this epiphany WAS, the only thing of any import is that it was THERE, because that's what matters when it comes to epiphanies: they just have to be there. The rest will sort itself out.
So just like after one of those wonderfully liberating sneezes, I will indulge the warm and satisfied feeling of its aftermath and when the contendedness subsides, think about the epiphany and how to form and shape it and ... maybe wait in case there's another one where that came from...
(wer drei mal niest, is doof)
Last weekend I was paying a visit to my pregnant friend Jenny and her boyfr... I'm sorry ... husband (oh my GOD!!!) Christian in Halleannersaale. We were all sitting in the kitchen and they were deep in conversation about ... magic potions? griffin rides? buying a new sword I cannae remember. I wasn't really listening for a moment, enclosed in my own little world and thinking lightly about ... what the flying FUCK I wanna do in my life, when all of a sudden, the answer presented itself. It wasn't just a bright idea or a, what we call in German, Geistesblitz, I was having a copper bottom, 24 carat
EPIPHANY!!!!
I've been thinking about where to go and what to do in life for at least the eight years of my very quite rather unsuccessful studying around, never getting anywhere much, apart from, OK, so I'm gonna be a teacher, yeah, I can do that. But the one thing that would be my call in life, the ONE thing I really really wanted to do just wouldn't come to mind, as much and as hard as I ever thought about it. It was just like waiting for a sneeze that won't come out properly, you can feel it scavaging around in yer nose, you want it, you need it but naught will happen, leaving you empty and stupid-faced and then, all of a sudden and without previous anouncement: BAM!!! ... HATCHOOOOOO!!!!!!!! there goes half your brain and oh, doesn't it just feel amazing, a precious little nose-orgasm!
The best thing is: it doesn't even matter what this epiphany WAS, the only thing of any import is that it was THERE, because that's what matters when it comes to epiphanies: they just have to be there. The rest will sort itself out.
So just like after one of those wonderfully liberating sneezes, I will indulge the warm and satisfied feeling of its aftermath and when the contendedness subsides, think about the epiphany and how to form and shape it and ... maybe wait in case there's another one where that came from...
(wer drei mal niest, is doof)
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