...getting rained on in Tokyo.
...old enough to drink alcohol but not old enough to know when to stop.
...blogging since 02/22/03.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Bloggiversary So this blog and I have been an item for two years now. If this was a real life relationship, I'd be crying into a heap of Kleenex while listening to sad French music because after the Earth circles the sun twice, the flame that fuels my love life invariably extinguishes itself with a soft wimper. So I'm finally trying something new: staying single for two years. My friend B. is convinced that I won't even make it a year. Luckily, he is as big a fan of stupid bets as me so that we only have to come up with a good wager. Any suggestions?
Not so relaxing start into my vacation According to my mother this lunar year is supposed to be bad luck all over for me. So far I can't disagree. My wallet was stolen even before I got out of the train in Cologne. So my Friday night was spent trying to block all my bank cards. Luckily, nothing irretrievable was lost and the suckers just got 15€ out of their theft. I got hold of two of the pickpocket gang and dragged them to the police station with me but it's not so satisfying to give two underage girls dirty looks in a police station as you might think.
I'll be wearing PJs until Tuesday I'm off to Germany and only leave a non-emptied trash can and a sad fridge (aka oversized minibar in disguise) behind. After two months of not seeing my family, it's time for homecooked meals and shouting contests.
Just another Monday I got nothing for Valentine's day. Must be the elephant calves. Given the facts that I'd choose a bag of weirdly flavored chips over a box of chocolate and that flowers rot and attract insects, I'm not too sad about it.
Tales of leather and torture I frequently dread shopping for clothes because of the "Eww, gross, look at yourself, you're soooo fat you don't fit into these pants"-factor but I've always considered shopping for shoes a relatively non-scarring activity. That's what I thought until last weekend when I tried on some boots which I couldn't take off anymore because the zipper got stuck in the leather. A sales clerk had to come to my rescue and wielded some giant, dangerous-looking scissors to cut me out of them.
However, keeping use of my legs apparently stopped me from learning my lesson so that I got magically drawn to another shoe store when I passed its big "Sales" signs in the windows yesterday. Now I'm the proud owner of black boots which I can barely zip up. I would have never thought that I have to go on a diet to wear some shoes of mine. At least, this opens a new job perspective for me: becoming the lady with the elephant calves at a circus.
No news is good news If this blog really were a baby instead of a brain child, it would have been snatched away from my evil and neglecting clutches by the youth welfare office long time ago. There must be a way to update more frequently but this would involve me not being such a lazy and uncreative bum. Also, I'm yielding to peer pressure too easily. Good thing that my friends are only pushing me to go to parties and not to jump off a cliff while getting a tattoo on the right arm and injecting myself heroin into the other one.
I wish that going to parties would at least provide me with some material to blog about but nothing happens. Yesterday, I sweated through my clothes after only five minutes which makes for a charming start of the night and stepped onto a lot of people's feet. I got more beer onto my clothes than into my system but with all the sweat it didn't really make a big difference. The music was good, the booze comparatively cheap and I came back at 6 am. Fun times but nothing out of the ordinary: no Jorg incident tonight (thank heavens).
Na zdrowie! I had a great time at the Polish party yesterday which basically meant lots of dancing and no puking. I hope the South American/Indian* party tonight will be as good. Or maybe it will be even better because, this time, I won't be talking to a guy who was introduced to me as Jorg but turned out to be from Georgia, not from Scandinavia and is really called Josh. And that was the normal part of the conversation before all the embarrassing blabber that normally is blocked by my brain before I say them out loud exited my mouth (I blame it on the Polish beer). Needless to say that he fled quite fast.
In future, I have to make sure my brain functions before talking anybody at a party. Alternatively, I could also try drinking myself into oblivion so that I won't remember such incidents on the following day. Option 2 sounds like more fun but I don't have that much money to spend on alcoholic beverages.
* refers to the Indians that invented curry, not the other ones
Polish know how to party I know that blacklight is a thing of the eighties but I just discovered last weekend that it made my gin tonic glow in the dark. However, I won't be able to repeat that experience tonight because I doubt I will find any gin at a party which has more vodka bottles than tickets to sell.