Saturday, May 31, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
An encounter of the Cave kind
...before:
and after:
I'd really like to tell you every detail of this concert, but, honestly, I used up my
quota of x-rated words on the concert and also you really mustn't use this kind of language here where minors could read it. Let me just put it like that:
the words "WAS?!" and "STRASSE!!" will forever be sending hot and cold shivers down my spine.
and after:
I'd really like to tell you every detail of this concert, but, honestly, I used up my
quota of x-rated words on the concert and also you really mustn't use this kind of language here where minors could read it. Let me just put it like that:
the words "WAS?!" and "STRASSE!!" will forever be sending hot and cold shivers down my spine.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Es passieren so viele Dinge in meinem Leben
Heute nämlich, dass an dieser Stelle (aka ganz oben) in diesem Blog ab heute eine neue Rubrik in Erscheinung tritt. Es handelt sich um etwas, was mich nicht nur aber auch in letzter Zeit viel beschäftigt.
Ich präsentiere also zum ersten Mal:
Heute also:
Römisch 1: "Fernseh" anstatt von "fernsehen"/"Fernsehen" oder auch "TV". Aaaarhg!
In die gleiche Rubrik gehört natürlich auch das von mir seit langem empört angeprangerte "Sose" anstelle von "Sauce".
Ey, Leude ... NULL!!!!
Ich möchte alle an der Rettung der (deutschen) Sprache Interessierten bitten, zukünftig einen zehnbändigen Duden mit sich zu führen um diesen im Zweifelsfall als Projektilwaffe einsetzen zu können. Denn wer dumm sein will, muss fühlen. Oder so.
Ich präsentiere also zum ersten Mal:
Das Suspekte Wort des Tages,
wobei sich "suspekt" natürlich nicht nur auf das Wort an sich, sondern selbstverständlich auch auf dessen gedankenlose Benutzer bezieht.Heute also:
Römisch 1: "Fernseh" anstatt von "fernsehen"/"Fernsehen" oder auch "TV". Aaaarhg!
In die gleiche Rubrik gehört natürlich auch das von mir seit langem empört angeprangerte "Sose" anstelle von "Sauce".
Ey, Leude ... NULL!!!!
Ich möchte alle an der Rettung der (deutschen) Sprache Interessierten bitten, zukünftig einen zehnbändigen Duden mit sich zu führen um diesen im Zweifelsfall als Projektilwaffe einsetzen zu können. Denn wer dumm sein will, muss fühlen. Oder so.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Thursday, May 01, 2008
On the ambuguity of loss and the supremacy of R.a.R.
Time to get philosophical for a change.
Fact: I hate loss. It makes me feel like a toddler all over again, like the time my mum threw away my favourite record because it was covered in scratches from playing it too often. I can't have been older than four, but I still see myself running after my mum, crying my eyes out as she walked down the driveway to the garbage bins with my record in her hands. I remember her resolute face, determined not to let my crying impress her (something she alway was paricularly good at - and actually in most of my memories, my mother is wearing this resolute expression). I remember the sound as she broke the shining black disc in two and shoved it into the bin.
A quarter of a century has passed, but the memory of this helpless feeling is still engraved in my mind.
Or the time a couple of years later, when I lost my favourite teddy bear in the train. That must have been the single most traumatic experience of my childhood.
I'm grown up now and should be able to handle these things in a more adult way. But the truth is: I'm not really. Loss still makes me feel just as helpless and paralysed as it did when I was six.
These last two years saw me losing big time; I lost love. I lost my best friend. I lost my car before I even had it (which may sound trivial, but those who know me well understand that it is anything but trivial). I "lost" my bike!!
A precious friend told me not so long ago that I was getting cynical and although I don't feel that, I couldn't help thinking "Well, who wouldn't?!".
I am determined not to let these things get on top of me, but sometimes I feel that working my way out of these rainclouds is like trying to swim in quicksand; I'm moving full speed - but to what avail?
Lying on the couch of my own inner psychoanalyst while at the same time sitting next to myself, analysing the shit out of me, I have come to focus on the assets, on the things that are still there. And it eases my mind a great deal to realise that everything is not so bad - not so bad at all! In fact, I'm doing great. I have learned to be content on my own every once in a while and, really, I'm getting a lot of things done. And whenever I don't have work to do, I spend a lot of quality time with my real friends.
Still: I have changed. I wouldn't say I have become cynical; but harder in a way I guess.
In a couple of weeks' time, I'm going to a Nick Cave concert. When I saw it being advertised, I thought there was no way I could go there without him (he who shall not be named). Then I mentally slapped myself across the face, telling myself that him being gone doesn't mean that the things we shared and that were important to us are gone as well. And again, the same precious friend made me realise that sometimes you just have to let people go in order for them to make room for new great people. That's not losing - it's just taking care of yourself.
So even if he's gone and although it took me a long time to come to see: Nick Cave (representative for many other people and things) is still there and I feel like I have finally opened my eyes to see clearly.
Because into my human heart life filled me
With love up to the brim and killed me
And rebuilt me back anew with
Something to look forward to...
...and anyways: Rock and Roll always wins...!
Fact: I hate loss. It makes me feel like a toddler all over again, like the time my mum threw away my favourite record because it was covered in scratches from playing it too often. I can't have been older than four, but I still see myself running after my mum, crying my eyes out as she walked down the driveway to the garbage bins with my record in her hands. I remember her resolute face, determined not to let my crying impress her (something she alway was paricularly good at - and actually in most of my memories, my mother is wearing this resolute expression). I remember the sound as she broke the shining black disc in two and shoved it into the bin.
A quarter of a century has passed, but the memory of this helpless feeling is still engraved in my mind.
Or the time a couple of years later, when I lost my favourite teddy bear in the train. That must have been the single most traumatic experience of my childhood.
I'm grown up now and should be able to handle these things in a more adult way. But the truth is: I'm not really. Loss still makes me feel just as helpless and paralysed as it did when I was six.
These last two years saw me losing big time; I lost love. I lost my best friend. I lost my car before I even had it (which may sound trivial, but those who know me well understand that it is anything but trivial). I "lost" my bike!!
A precious friend told me not so long ago that I was getting cynical and although I don't feel that, I couldn't help thinking "Well, who wouldn't?!".
I am determined not to let these things get on top of me, but sometimes I feel that working my way out of these rainclouds is like trying to swim in quicksand; I'm moving full speed - but to what avail?
Lying on the couch of my own inner psychoanalyst while at the same time sitting next to myself, analysing the shit out of me, I have come to focus on the assets, on the things that are still there. And it eases my mind a great deal to realise that everything is not so bad - not so bad at all! In fact, I'm doing great. I have learned to be content on my own every once in a while and, really, I'm getting a lot of things done. And whenever I don't have work to do, I spend a lot of quality time with my real friends.
Still: I have changed. I wouldn't say I have become cynical; but harder in a way I guess.
In a couple of weeks' time, I'm going to a Nick Cave concert. When I saw it being advertised, I thought there was no way I could go there without him (he who shall not be named). Then I mentally slapped myself across the face, telling myself that him being gone doesn't mean that the things we shared and that were important to us are gone as well. And again, the same precious friend made me realise that sometimes you just have to let people go in order for them to make room for new great people. That's not losing - it's just taking care of yourself.
So even if he's gone and although it took me a long time to come to see: Nick Cave (representative for many other people and things) is still there and I feel like I have finally opened my eyes to see clearly.
Because into my human heart life filled me
With love up to the brim and killed me
And rebuilt me back anew with
Something to look forward to...
...and anyways: Rock and Roll always wins...!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Berlin welcomes back in town:
Spring
The sunglasses are back out and we wear the season's first sunburn with pride and dignity. Having said which I shall proceed to fall silent and let the pictures speak for themselves:
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Die Schweine
ham mein Fahrrad geklaut.
Mehr kann dazu grade gar nich gesagt werden.
Ich bin jetz traurig und geh ins Bett.
Mehr kann dazu grade gar nich gesagt werden.
Ich bin jetz traurig und geh ins Bett.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Much beloved traditions never die
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!
Officer, Officer, that is the guy!
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!
Officer, Officer, that is the guy!Sunday, April 06, 2008
...meine kleine Schwester freut sich bestimmt 'n zweites Loch in ihren Popo...und ich erst...
...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:
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!
PS: Kühlschrank und Anlage: ich hoffe, ihr werdet auf der anderen Seite miteinander glücklich ... ihr Ärsche!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Of big city tourette and post-strike tranquility (with lesbians)
The public transport strike had a deeper impact on people than most of the red plastic bag wearing train and bus drivers could possibly imagine. The S-Bahn trains were about to burst, people waitet hours fo one of the about five buses that were actually in service and once they arrived, no one seemed to notice that there simply is NO WAY to squeeze 40 more people in a bus constructed for 60 which is nonetheless already filled with 80.
The streets were crowded by cyclists who were very obviously not used to riding their bike to work in inner city rush hour traffic.
Everybody was so tense you could literally feel the agression, filter it out of the air and putl it in transparent plastic bags for further inspection. It was the first time I ever saw a man being attacked in a train because he made someone's bike fall over.
Not a very relaxing way of travelling (but then, when is public transport ever?)
And in the middle of all this, there I was. It was ten in the morning, I hadn't had time to have breakfast yet and had just peeled myself out of an S-Bahn train in order to meet my sister at her work place, pick up her car and drive a friend to his doctor's appointment in the charming neighbourhood of Berlin Wedding.
I was coming from Jannowitzbrücke, zig-zagging my way through the masses on the sidewalk. In situations like this, people get on my nerves. Full stop. Generally. No matter what they do. But in this case, my anger was concentrated on a lady walking in front of me (without any hope of me passing her because there was no space and anyway, she was walking just as fast as I did and you know me, I'm always running), having her pre-work smoke and blowing her smoke, unintentionally, but I don't fucking care about that, right - in - my - face.
Arrgh!!! I thought and couldn't help muttering some heavy insults under my breath. The wave of anger that took me was so severe it shook my whole body. I felt better for it, but immediately after I had finished swearing, I realized that my little fit had been caught on the cameras of the Chinese embassy, which I just happened to have walked past.
Realization struck me like lightning: the people watching the cameras ( and I know my luck, there MUST have been someone watching; after all, this is the Chinese we're talking about, they watch over what their people do in bed, I'm sure they watch everything) couldn't see the reason for my little outrage as the smoking lady was about five paces in front of me. They only saw me talking (to myself apparently) and shaking my head. And I saw how easily the pages turn: you let yourself go for just half a second, you lose your grip for just a split moment and before you can say "fool's asylum" YOU are the freak!
But then again, the wheels on the bus go round and round and a mere week later, buses and underground are back on track and stepping outside you could feel the city relaxing. Traffic was back to normal, so was the amount of jerk cyclists (about 100 a mile) and nobody seemed to be beating each other up more than normally.
I took the general euphoria ("hooray, I can go to work again... sigh") as a reason to go out and celebrate my new "spring is coming soon - or so I hope" haircut!
So I joined a couple of the most lovable creatures (Cons and her gang) and we went out. The evening brought roast chicken first and then, for the first time in bloody ages, we went out dancing! And what a dance it was! We made the dancefloor ours, we swept, we rocked, we floated, we whirled - I hadn't enjoyed myself that way in years (or so it felt); at the end of the night I was high on adrenaline and Euphoria and cose to a heart attack due to exhaustion.
And when the DJ finally bade us leave, I was askd out by a very cute, blonde, charming young ... girl.
Maybe it took my new haircut a mere day to get me chatted up by a girl, but maybe, and that is obviously much more likely, I was just pure irresistible that night.
I told her maybe next time and you now what: I'm looking forward to next time.
I love life.
The streets were crowded by cyclists who were very obviously not used to riding their bike to work in inner city rush hour traffic.
Everybody was so tense you could literally feel the agression, filter it out of the air and putl it in transparent plastic bags for further inspection. It was the first time I ever saw a man being attacked in a train because he made someone's bike fall over.
Not a very relaxing way of travelling (but then, when is public transport ever?)
And in the middle of all this, there I was. It was ten in the morning, I hadn't had time to have breakfast yet and had just peeled myself out of an S-Bahn train in order to meet my sister at her work place, pick up her car and drive a friend to his doctor's appointment in the charming neighbourhood of Berlin Wedding.
I was coming from Jannowitzbrücke, zig-zagging my way through the masses on the sidewalk. In situations like this, people get on my nerves. Full stop. Generally. No matter what they do. But in this case, my anger was concentrated on a lady walking in front of me (without any hope of me passing her because there was no space and anyway, she was walking just as fast as I did and you know me, I'm always running), having her pre-work smoke and blowing her smoke, unintentionally, but I don't fucking care about that, right - in - my - face.
Arrgh!!! I thought and couldn't help muttering some heavy insults under my breath. The wave of anger that took me was so severe it shook my whole body. I felt better for it, but immediately after I had finished swearing, I realized that my little fit had been caught on the cameras of the Chinese embassy, which I just happened to have walked past.
Realization struck me like lightning: the people watching the cameras ( and I know my luck, there MUST have been someone watching; after all, this is the Chinese we're talking about, they watch over what their people do in bed, I'm sure they watch everything) couldn't see the reason for my little outrage as the smoking lady was about five paces in front of me. They only saw me talking (to myself apparently) and shaking my head. And I saw how easily the pages turn: you let yourself go for just half a second, you lose your grip for just a split moment and before you can say "fool's asylum" YOU are the freak!
But then again, the wheels on the bus go round and round and a mere week later, buses and underground are back on track and stepping outside you could feel the city relaxing. Traffic was back to normal, so was the amount of jerk cyclists (about 100 a mile) and nobody seemed to be beating each other up more than normally.
I took the general euphoria ("hooray, I can go to work again... sigh") as a reason to go out and celebrate my new "spring is coming soon - or so I hope" haircut!
So I joined a couple of the most lovable creatures (Cons and her gang) and we went out. The evening brought roast chicken first and then, for the first time in bloody ages, we went out dancing! And what a dance it was! We made the dancefloor ours, we swept, we rocked, we floated, we whirled - I hadn't enjoyed myself that way in years (or so it felt); at the end of the night I was high on adrenaline and Euphoria and cose to a heart attack due to exhaustion.
And when the DJ finally bade us leave, I was askd out by a very cute, blonde, charming young ... girl.
Maybe it took my new haircut a mere day to get me chatted up by a girl, but maybe, and that is obviously much more likely, I was just pure irresistible that night.
I told her maybe next time and you now what: I'm looking forward to next time.
I love life.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Gee, if it weren't for facebook, I wouldn't have a clue about myself!
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...
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...
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
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