...getting rained on in Tokyo.
...old enough to drink alcohol but not old enough to know when to stop.
...blogging since 02/22/03.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Everybody get on the floor The holiday is going along nicely even though I am developing dimensions of something that needs to be rolled back into the sea again. This seems also to be the explanation why I didn't feel like going to the beach with my cousin. Being around family for an extended period of time feels strange given that I haven't lived with my parents for almost a decade and I miss having my own four walls so now I phantasize about new apartment in Berlin the whole time. I've been thinking about painting the walls of my Berlin apartment grass green but my stream of thoughts is interrupted by my cousins discovering a box containing a drum, a triangle and a tambourine and now the Asian version of the von Trapps is taking a trip through the pop music wonderland of the last 50 years. This is something I can easily postpone my Martha Stewart phantasies. If it weren't for the corny Karaoke interludes, family would be a much harder concept to bear.
Luxury problems Recovery from the jetlag and the post-flight flu take longer than foreseen but there is no better cure than retail therapy. My credit card has caught even more of a tan than I have. Unfortunately, Australia's latest summer collection won't do me any good when I return to winter wonderland Germany. So I have to make enough use of frilly skirts and short dresses while the weather's still warm enough and while I'm still skinny enough to fit into them because I get stuffed with the best food in the world. Life is so cruel.
Today it's all about the boobs My body is having trouble accepting that it is 5:29 pm and not 9:29 am but at any rate, it is having troubles accepting anything after 26 hours of air travel. I have finally arrived in Sydney, OZ.
Apart from the interminable hours of being trapped in the window seat of a Boeing 747 with a bursting bladder, my time was spent efficiently when I decided what furniture to buy for my new apartment* got a souvenir from Bangkok** and bought my outfit for my cousin's wedding*** that I will attend in 2 weeks. And now I am off to Hooters where they apparently serve excellent hot wings. This vacation does not start restfully.
* Thank you, IKEA catalogue! ** A massage book which initiated me into the massaging technique of buttock pressing *** A pleated black cocktail dress which make my boobs look bigger. Strappy kitten heels to go with****. **** (the dress, not the boobs).
On my mind The apartment hunt is over. Tomorrow I will sign the contract and hand over ridiculous amounts of cash to a real estate agent for opening the door to the apartment and saying helpful things such as "It's a really nice place." I am quite ecstatic about the apartment nonetheless because it means that I can: a) stop wasting my weekends looking at derelict buildings in remote areas; b) sleep soundly at night because I won't have to sleep under a bridge; and c) finally order broadband.
I have borrowed the new IKEA catalogue from a colleague and it feels like I am leafing through furniture p*rn: instead of naked bodies, I am rearranging sofas and bookshelves in my mind, trying out more positions for them in my mind than there are in the Kama Sutra. Tonight I will take it a step further and cut out little paper squares to shift around on the ground plan. Talk about depravity!