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I am
...getting rained on in Tokyo.
...old enough to drink alcohol but not old enough to know when to stop.
...blogging since 02/22/03.
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Saturday, November 27, 2004
Yesterday the meat, today a plumber who's singing the French version of "My way" in my kitchen: Mornings are just not my time of the day
It made a weird start of the day to step into meat on my way to work on Friday. There's no way someone could just have lost an unwrapped, raw pork chop in the middle of the sideway so the most plausible explanation I've come up with involves a butcher with a penchant for cross-dressing:
The butcher sleepwalks through the shop, bumps into a table, meat falls down, he step onto it, the pork chop gets caught in his left high heel. When he awakens from the crisp morning air*, he finds himself in the middle of the streets with an old lady turning the corner. It's of major interest for the butcher not to be seen by Madame Dupont who buys a veal escalope in his shop every Friday, so he flees. Running in high heels is hard enough without dead animal attached to your shoes. And that's how the meat got onto the street.
*Garters and a bra do not make a good winter outfit, especially when combined with a see-through negligee only.
posted by Bunny at 10:42 AM
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Thursday, September 30, 2004
Stoopid
Now that I've been working for almost a month, I've managed to accumulate a whole drugstore in my desk drawer at work. Aspirin, vitamins, nose spray, antiallergics, lozenges, you name it. I figured that if ever I were to get sick, it would probably be at work (or because of it).
If anybody snooped around my workplace, he'd certainly believe I'm some kind of hardcore addict that can't keep her hands off her stack of drugs even during work. At least that would have been a good explanation for my brain working slower that the Belgian civil servant who is processing my application for a residence permit. However, I don't require any chemical substances to become daft. I was born that way.
posted by Bunny at 8:20 PM
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Monday, August 30, 2004
Today's "to do": Carrying a lot of boxes, driving to Brussels, nervous break-down
Okay, breathe deep, focus...
Trying to brace myself against "The Move" is like not minding a hippo to tap-dance a musical on your intestines. Too bad that I won't have any internet to document the havoc tonight.
In order to take my mind off the forebodings of doom yesterday, I met with an old friend that I haven't seen for a long time. As one of his friend works at Deutsche Post, we did some sightseeing and got into the the Posttower, looked at lots of foreign mailboxes and enjoyed the panorama. The real object of interest in the Posttower were the high-tech elevators though. Going up and down so fast, it almost felt like riding a roller coaster. Interestingly enough, the speed of the elevators had already been reduced after frequent incidents of stopping them after lunch to let "the cleaners mop up".
posted by Bunny at 7:24 AM
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Friday, August 06, 2004
A long and tedious story of my university student life
I expect more interesting times to come. And by "interesting" I mean frustrating. Next week I'll start looking for an apartment in Brussels. Add a limited budget with that and blend to make it a nerve-wrecking experience of a life time. Let me recount my last apartment hunt:
France, 2002: TJ and I naively expected finding an apartment to be a painless experience which would take two or three days. With the even more limited budget of two exchange students, we were shown a fine assortment of rat holes. In our youthful optimism, however, we never lost the conviction that the right apartment was out there somewhere if we just looked hard enough.
We found an ad for a cheap furnished apartment. We immediately contacted the landlady who was nice enough to arrange a meeting that evening. We arrived at the address on time and waited for half an hour without anybody showing up. After a while a homeless lady approached us.
Life hadn't been kind to her. One of her buck teeth was black and she had a squint so strong that it must have interfered with her stereoscopic vision. Her clothes screamed "crack whore". I almost said "Sorry, I don’t have any small change" before she introduced herself as the landlady.
When she opened the door of the apartment the odor of mildew and dirt wafted into the hall. We passed spotty walls which had large pieces of rotten wallpaper coming down. The trash on the floor made crunching noises under our soles. We made a stop in the kitchen where she rubbed the blackened surface of the hot plates while she explained to us that "The apartment needed to be clean up a little."
A moldy, rectangular piece of rubber foam was propped against a kitchen wall. The scary landlady referred to it as "one of the beds". We left in a hurry and never called her back.
Our search appeared to have ended when we found an apartment that was situated perfectly. The landlord couldn't show it to us because he was on vacation but he assured us that he would send pictures and the contract soon. Satisfied, we returned to Germany.
It was weeks later that the landlord realized that he had mistaken us with another pair of German exchanged students that were also interested in the apartment. Needless to say that we drove to France for a second time.
Second attempt: Another apartment that we wanted to see led to another encounter with the not-so-homeless queen of rat holes. She didn't recognize us (Kids, remember: drugs are bad for the brain!). We had to go through the process of looking at rotting wall paper again. I must have been involved in some kind of genocide in a previous life in order to amass such a bad karma.
posted by Bunny at 11:43 AM
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Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Are children supposed to think that this is how the world works?
After watching Shrek 2 for a couple of times, I'm starting to think that the movie's message is:
"As long as person A is willing to change for person B, B will refrain from actually asking A to undergo the change."
If this was true, we'd get to hear more conversations like this:
Woman: Honey, I want you to be happy because I love you, so I will finally get the breast implants that you asked for.
Man: Baby, that's so sweet to finally offer to do this for me. By saying this, you have proven me your love so that I will get turned on by small breasts from now on. There's no need for the plastic surgeon to stuff your boobies like turkeys on Thanksgiving anymore. How about that?
Woman: Wow, this went better than I thought. Let's get our winged horses and fly to Atlantis for a picnic, shall we?
posted by Bunny at 10:35 PM
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Saturday, May 01, 2004
Happy accession day
Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Estonia, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Malta, Poland, the Slovak Republic, and Slovenia: Welcome to the club. I'd be even happier for you if I didn't have to do a presentation on the EU enlargement. Hope you had a good party yesterday. I know I did: I had a good time at a BBQ despite the rain. Nothing beats free food. Even if it's wet, rained-on food.
posted by Bunny at 6:19 PM
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Sunday, March 28, 2004
What happened at the party I didn't want to go to in the first place
Let me relive the horrors that were the last few hours as I'm typing with numb fingers and a bruised wrist in the middle of the night. Tonight the fun event club of my business school organized one of the bigger parties and it was themed "spring break". First of all, Germans don't have anything corresponding to the wild orgies that are classified as "spring break" in the US. Second, the temperatures were below freezing which made it a "Let's not die from hypothermia"-party rather than a "Dance around in your bikinis and show your boobies"-party. Third, there were three toilets in the ladies for about 800 party-goers.
I drank three cokes during the four hours I was at the party. Being sober doesn't automatically take away the fun of a party. You can have a lot of fun when you are sober. You have intelligible conversations when being sober, you don't trip that often while dancing, and you don't make out with people that you wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole in daylight. This time being sober meant standing in a overcrowded room, watching two go-go dancers dressed as slutty nurses do a lesbian makeout session on a platform and getting poked by the mass of drunks which believed that they were actually dancing. There was a lot of beer spilling and bottle breaking involved.
At 4 am the music was finally turned off and the people were to finish their last beer. Meanwhile security shooed all people away from the building and consequently blocked the access to the restrooms which I was greatly in need of. I expected to get back home soon so I refrained from peeing in the adjacent vineyards like many others did.* However, the intoxication of most of my friends had progressed so far that their drinking speed was reduced dramatically. We lingered for another hour. Until then my urge had transformed into a sharp pain in the abdomen but after a lot of dawdling on the part of my friends, I finally walked home with TS whose apartment (and toilet) is closer to the university than mine. At that point I couldn't tell anymore whether I'd already pissed all over me because I had no feelings in my lower body region whatsoever but I chose to think that I had retained dignity and still held it.
When TJ passed us on his bike, TS felt obliged to have a race with him. TS was holding my hand and so he pulled me with him as he started running. This was not his brightest idea because I tripped in the course and was dragged across the floor for a couple of feet. As a result I had dirt on my pants and in my pants. In addition to that there were jabbing pains in my hand and butt but I made it to the bathroom on time where I scattered the dirt all over the bathroom floor when I pulled down my pants. Now I have a huge bluish bumpy bruise on my left wrist and a splinter in my bleeding palm which I can't pull out. I hope my hand will rot off so that TS has a reason to be permanently sorry for being a bloody %?&$/? that has to prove his manliness by starting unnecessary competitions with TJ.
* The wine from these vineyards is served during the festivities on graduation day. Why not drink piss directly?
posted by Bunny at 7:03 AM
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Sunday, January 25, 2004
My history of roomies
I've had my share of agreeable and disagreeable roomies since the age of 16 when I transferred to a boarding school. I tend to be quickly annoyed by little things, especially when they accumulate as I interpret them to be the expression of my roomies' inconsiderate, self-centered personalities.
Roomie experience #1: My first roomie was RP who would've never become my best friend if we hadn't lived together. Soon after living together we became known as "the symbiosis" to our circle of friends. It was a fun time and she always held my hair whenever I bowed to the porcelain god after a long night out.
Roomie experience #2: For the final year of high school RP and I moved into an apartment together with another girl from our class. It turned out that the other girl liked depilating her legs with a epilator and leaving the hairs in the bath tub for the next person to clean. Other offences included never taking the trash out, leaving a half-eaten pizza in the kitchen for a week, using up the toilet paper but never replacing it and similar annoying things. The most memorable incident was when RP and I baked her a fancy birthday cake and she invited people over to eat it in her room without offering us a single crumb of it.
Roomie experience #3: Exchange semester in Grenoble, France, 2002. TJ and Janman, a fellow student from our university, were quite agreeable although TJ had the habit of getting up at 4 pm and then walking around the living room in his boxer shorts and Norwegian wool socks. We mainly lived of crème fraîche, baguette and red whine and at this point I found out that it wasn't so bad to live with guys as long as you put them in charge of cleaning the toilet. The only stupid thing they did was buying two pet goldfish which died a tragic death because we overfed them.
Roomie experience #4: That is the lamented flatshare of Nottingham that you might have heard from my first few posts. Three Spanish girls, a Danish gal and me. The lessons learnt: Spanish girls that have always lived with their parents prior to coming to England and I don't mix well. Excessive cooking with olive oil leaves a sticky coating on all the surfaces in the kitchen. Listening to trance music causes brain damage. Danish girls that run marathons are nice.
Roomie experience #5: After #4 I was not fond of the idea of another all-girl flatshare but unfortunately I'd already signed the contract before my exchange semesters. Moreover I was too lazy to look for another apartment. Big mistake.
If it weren't for JW I would call this the worst flatshare experience. JW is real fun. Unfortunately this doesn't change the fact that Tupperware girl is the worst roomie I've ever had. I recently just noticed that Tupperware girl has the same first name as the girl from my senior year. I should've seen the omen before it's too late.
posted by Bunny at 4:04 PM
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