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.

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.

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
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.

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$%&§§!

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.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

graffiti 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."