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Sunday, March 7, 2010

theories on vertical rotating meat

you gotta be smart about your rotating meat. there's a lot of places to choose from, so choose wisely.

1. if it looks like dog food, it's probably dog food. or dog.
look for discernable layers. the pate-ish ones are mostly filler, maybe cardboard. if you can see texture and pattern, you can rest assured the dog meat is mixed with other kinds of dog meat. or vegetables? even better.
2. the bigger the better
notice the width of the meat tube. if it's like a small hippo, or young american, it's fresh and good. if it looks like a skinny mangled sausage just clinging to the spit, it's been there for a while. go somewhere else, come back in a few days to see the fresh plump version.

3. it's apparently ok if the guy uses his hands
don't cringe when the dude picks up a stray potato or slice of meat with his fingers and puts it in your sandwich, or cuts open your bread with his fingernails. only us foreign americans are all creeped out by bad hygeine. keep your cool, blend in with the locals.
4. make sure it's sliced fresh.
don't get the pieces lying in the pan, sliced during the dude's last cigarette break. point to the meat tube, make slicing gesture. a good place will give you the pieces about 105 degrees clockwise from heat coil.
5. no electric knife slicer things!
that screams "shortcut" to me
6. say no to any tea from behind the counter
if you can water it down yourself (there's a little hot water spout under the tea ball thing) then you're ok. but if you're served it with no option to alter the potency, it's probably the battery acid variety, beware of immediate stomach cramps.
7. try, try again
for statistical significance, your sample size must be twice the standard deviation. you can't pick the best doner after only trying a few of the bigger places. you need to hit every single one, at various stages of progression (see #2). even the one in the u bahn station, even the one that no one else goes to. you never know where the best secret meat tube is hiding.

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Friday, March 5, 2010

proof of residency

To: T-Mobile Customer Relations
P.O. Box 37380
Albuquerque, NM
87176-7380

Re: T-Mobile Account # 228132578

To whom it may concern,

This is a letter in response to your request to provide additional proof of residency to have my Early Termination Fee from my cell phone contract waived for reasons of moving out of the country. The person with whom I spoke to before leaving the US said a lease was all that was needed (a 58 page contract on an apartment, signed in triplicate seems pretty good proof of residence to me).

My utilities are included in my rent (see page 32), and my office (whose contract of work I also included in my previous communication) pays my cell phone bill, so I have neither of those to submit.

I am thus including my recent order confirmation for internet service at my residence, where I live, which is at xxxxxxx, Berlin, Germany. I am also including the Berlin registration document, which also has that address, and is legal proof of residency required for all residents, which I must carry with me always. To get this piece of paper, I needed a lease and formal address, a work permit, a bank account (which also requires residency) and 4 hours of standing on line at city hall.

Or, I can provide a recent photo of myself in front of the Brandenburger Gate wearing faded denim, a smug anti-capitalist look on my face, drinking bionade and licking currywurst sauce off the lips of a German guy if that would suffice?

Tschüss,

Aurelgrooves.

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Thursday, March 4, 2010

german appetizer

it's called a "snowstorm." cream cheese with chives and spices, lemon, and...pretzels. another place served it with red onions. always with a side of cold, stale rye bread.

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Wednesday, March 3, 2010

tatort : boring german crime drama

i inadvertently walked into one of these "tatort" parties, just following the final credits last month and was wondering what the hell was going on in this weird place.

http://www.ichwerdeeinberliner.com/27-tatort
(probably one of the most long-winded bloggers to date. good stuff though)

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Monday, March 1, 2010

my new boyfriend..

...is sabah, the septagenarian owner of the junk shop down the street. every day this turkish family sets up a little faux house on the sidewalk with hideous old furniture - rounded leather sofas, wood paneled cabinets with gold trim, tables with wheels.
i finally ventured to see what the inside is like - a sort of rough n ready with an eastern european grandma furniture allure. i found some nice 70's chairs that compliment what's already in my living room. i then discovered the downstairs basement which has an endless assortment of beer mugs, cups, small appliances and stuff arranged into categories: the broken umbrella section, the hardware area, the mismatched shoe collection.
i was told i could pick out whatever i wanted as an extra free gift, so i got a GDR teapot, some bowls. then i was offered some tea in a small glass that had the taste and consistency of battery acid.
we watched a little soccer, i admired sabah's wedding photo album. he was a little touchy feely with all the petting of my hair and calling me "princess." but, he offered me a nice ring and a bracelet so i guess we're legit now. as soon as the tea started wreaking havoc on my insides i had to quickly run home. i have to be careful when i walk by in the morning, because otherwise i'll never get to work on time, or, i might start coughing up blood on the u-bahn which could be uncomfortable.
i think next weekend if it continues to be rainy and grey, a fun activity would be to bring a bunch of friends and see who can find the weirdest item. then, then drink as many cups of tea to see who doesn't get sick. winner wins the items the others picked out.

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Thursday, February 25, 2010

more coffee talk

we have, yet another new coffeemachine. the latte thing broke on the other one so this fancy company came in and gave us a demo on this bohemoth thing with buttons for latte mocha choco and stuff, like what they have at the 7-11. company guy said, wow, really? like the 7-11? and i tried to explain that wasn't a complement, the lattes from the 7-11 aren't any good, you just order one at the reststop when you're driving all night and there isn't a starbucks nearby.
anyway, there's a round blue light on the thing that glows like a heartbeat when you order your drink. we opened the insides to see if it was a real heart, or some humanoid being like in terminator, and gasp! it uses powdered milk. non-organic, whole, hormoney, powdered milk. we are shocked. everyone has thus been using the the old machine and we're about ready to drop this new one out the window.
mathias came in the other day and wondered if it was listening to us while we were insulting it, and that we were in for some space odyssey-style revenge. it had one chance to redeem itself: to make mathias lunch.
so he leans in and screams into the glowing heart "mochachino! with chicken and aubergine and french onion soup!"
the coffeemachine responded with deafening silence.

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Wednesday, February 17, 2010

everything has a gender

every noun in german has a gender, be it masculine, feminine or neuter. i like how the coffee machine is feminine to everyone. the coffeemachine is pretty high maintenance, you always have to fill the wasstank, empty the coffee grounds, fill it with coffee beans but today it was spraying water and making lots of noice.
so i ask, what is it doing? it says "bitte warten?"
and someone responds "she is cleaning her insides."
sounds dirty.

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Tuesday, February 16, 2010

a HA! always knew there was a little canadian in me...

It’s Not Political, but More Canadians Are Lefties

New York Times
By JEFF Z. KLEIN
Published: February 15, 2010
VANCOUVER, British Columbia — What is the difference between a Canadian and an American? The old question is coming up again here at the Olympics, with answers involving eagerness for war, ketchup, the pronunciation of toque or the ability to identify poutine and the Tragically Hip.

But none may be so simple as how one holds a hockey stick. According to sales figures from stick manufacturers, a majority of Canadian hockey players shoot left-handed, and a majority of American players shoot right-handed. No reason is known for this disparity, which cuts across all age groups and has persisted for decades.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/16/sports/olympics/16lefty.html?hp

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my internet sucks

trying to poach off a neighbor but it's not working. so i catch about a second of olympic sports in between minutes of frozen screens (oddly enough, the real world DC episodes stream effortlessly, and i will soon have poked both my eyes out). but the worst is when you're in the middle of snowboard motorcross and....f$%&§§!

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Thursday, February 4, 2010

lidl vs. rewe

i moved on a sunday. which, in europe is the equivelent of trying to open a bank account on christmas.
thankfully, i found a couple of agnostic turkish students to show up with their van and do the deed, which, considering all of my worldly possessions are bundled into a few trunks and backpacks which exploded in my office, took all of 25 min.
they sorta hung around after i paid them, expecting my phone number and a dinner invite i think, but once i ushered them out the door i was fully engaged into filling my empty apartment with stuff. stuff! stuff which i narrowed down to the bare essentials: some lightbulbs, for the wires dangling from the light fixtures, a stepladder to reach said light fixtures which are about 12 feet off the ground, a chair to sit on, a doormat, and maybe a broom or something to wipe up all the gravel and salt that arrive as stowaways in the cuffs of my pants.
my crusade took me to the ostbanhof, the nearby train station which is always a hub of commercial activity when no where else is. this mall was bustling with travelers from frankfurt and munich, mcdonald's eaters, pharmacies and two supermarkets in the basement, facing off like pit bulls in a ring: the Rewe and the Lidl. both competing for advertising space, each one's posters trying to consume the other, yet they could not be more different.
the Rewe has pomagranates, fancy champagne and recycled toilet paper with green trees on the packaging. the Lidl, which is about equivelent to a chinese walmart on the moral business practices barometer has palettes of whatever was seized at customs that day: rotten apples, screw top sparkling wine and the orange facial tissues you find in the bathroom on the train.
also at the Lidl, a number of savvy drunks who know a good sunday bargain on bottled booze and plastic bottled beer (so as not to hurt themselves?) which they then take out to the corridor where they pandhandle for the euro you get back from returning your cart to buy more booze, turn in their empties for more change and then drink, fight, smoke, and flick cigarette butts at the Rewe.
at lidl i skipped the creepy meats, but found one opened pack of organic pretzels, a gallon of "Dovey" shower gel and 25 assorted sponges which i ripped out of a huge shrink wrapped container, and stood on line for 20 minutes while the customers assaulted the cashier with insults.
At the rewe afterwards, the aisles were sparse with customers and "danke" and "bitte" were overheard everywhere. neither of these places had anything resembling a broom, a doormat, or any of the things i needed, but at this point, i was too distracted to remember i needed lightbulbs. so i went home, and sat in the dark on my floor, this time making a list for what i need to buy on my next excursion, which i now have to pack into working hours.

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Wednesday, February 3, 2010

graffiti sheizer

sheizer.
the other day there was a big soccer (football) game and al these drunk chanting hoardes in the u-bahn. as usual. there i was, minding my own business, leaning up against a side door when i noticed people acting weird. whatevs. arrived to my destination and took off my nice patagonia coat: in bright orange i have the reverse imprint of some vulgar graffiti that i had stamped on my outerwear by inadvertently leaning up against a fresh masterpiece. fuckers. i took it to a cleaner and all she could say was "sheizer."

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Tuesday, January 26, 2010

schmuck = jewelry

anti-fashionweek event: fashion reloaded with do-it-yourself jewelry and clothes making workshops in a converted factory in kreuzberg.

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Saturday, January 23, 2010

saturday night...

...is being spent analyzing images on google earth, volunteering as an image analyst for imagecat, an organization that is providing data to the World Bank for reconstruction and recovery planning in Haiti.
so i'm sitting here, clicking on damaged and destroyed buildings...pretty depressing...then again, so is my job usually (deforestation, fires...)

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Friday, January 22, 2010

answer to everything: hire a polish guy

The answer to everything in Germany seems to be "hire a Polish guy" or, if you're really hardup for cash, an Albanian.
And so they have this thing called myhammer.de which is an ebay of sorts for handymen. I put in "transport a bunch of trunks and bags from a Mitte office to an apartment in Kreuzberg for less than 50 euros" and now all these internet savvy pollacks are bidding for my contract.
I need someone to paint my place, too, and Zoran wants to be my man for the job at 10 euros/hour. I'm wondering what happens if i put in "seamlessly integrate into Turksih Mafia" or "join a Bulgarian circus," maybe that will be tomorrow. Right now i need to take 1000 euros out of the ATM for my deposit and i really need an armed goon to provide security.

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Thursday, January 21, 2010

revenge is a dish best served cold...

my 3 trunks full of sorely needed winter gear, german/english dictionary and clean underwear showed up today, after 2 weeks in customs.
the fedex delivery guy who brought them was SUPER grumpy, like all sweaty and huffing and puffing and complaining and saying sheizer this and sheizer that..like when he saw that my office was alllll the way at the end of the hallway he muttered what even i knew was a string of obscenites. and i kept trying to tell him dude, they have wheels, see? you can wheel them, like this! easy! but he insisted on lugging all 180 pounds, by himself, all at once, i could hear the muscles in his back tearing apart. whatever.
so once he left Cindy, our scottish admininstrative assistant apologized for me having seen the worst side of germans, "i hope you don't ever get exposed to that again!"
so then we open the window and look for him on the street, and when he was in range we swept all the slushy snow from the windowsill onto his head. Good fun.

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