Broke in Berlin

Cons and Pros.

2011-04-13T13:01:00.000-07:00

So, as the Big Move (to Belfast) draws ever closer (some time in July), I'm beginning to worry about some things, and rejoice about others. There are the practical worries like "will I get into university?", "how long will The Husband's visa take?" and "how the holy jiggedy fuck are we going to move all our crap there?"

There are other worries to be taken into account as well. Like, what am I doing moving back somewhere I never thought I'd be pre-retirement age? Or at least "settling down" age. I'd be worried that that's what I'm doing, except that it's hard to settle down without a proper job, a house or the means to procure either. I am also feeling some slight trepidation about re-involving myself with a society that is somewhat less open minded than where I am now, with regard to religion, race and sexuality. Though, who knows? I've been more or less away for three years. For all I know it's like Sodom and Gomorrah on Buckfast by now. No rules, no judgment and mind the weird purple-brown puke on your way out. Here's hoping.

But yes, with cons comes pros. Lovely, lovely pros. Like the aforementioned Buckfast, and the oft-mentioned Scampi Fries. And pubs with fires and people in them who talk and laugh LOUDLY. And family, and old friends and maybe a little kitten to call our own. And a new city, and new beginnings and EXCITEMENT.

Pros ALWAYS outweigh the cons.

Ach, Jaysus.

2011-04-06T12:23:00.000-07:00

So all my Lenten promises came to nothing and I reverted to my usual ways in an alarmingly, but not exactly surprisingly, short space of time. My usual ways consist of spending my time drinking wine, watching Never Mind the Buzzcocks and not writing anything. Oh well, you win some you lose some.

I have also been doing other things like enjoying the FANTASTIC WEATHER this weekend by drinking by the Landwehr Kanal, which probably THE BEST thing to do in Berlin. It is also very much in keeping with the purported theme of this blog (no, not mad-woman-rants-about-strange-love-for-Katy-Perry's-single-Waking-up-in-Vegas, but rather stuff-to-do-when-broke-in-Berlin). If you're visiting Berlin* in the sunshine I cannot recommend highly enough grabbing a few cold Augustiners (green label, creepy old man face picture) or Tegenseer Hells (pretty pretty blue and white Bavarian flag label) and parking your butt by the canal. I like the bit near Prinzenstrasse U-Bahn, with the boat restaurant, swans and close proximity to the ER visitor toilets in the hospital. Very roomy and, seeing as it's a hospital, pretty fucking spotless. Useful if you're the kind of person who, without fail, pisses on their own feet when trying to pee discreetly in bushes after dark.

* If you're actually living here and you haven't already been doing this at every available opportunity what exactly have you been doing?

Happy St Patrick's Day!

2011-03-17T13:58:00.000-07:00

I am, obviously, not out and about getting drunk and proclaiming my Irishness to the world (by getting drunker) because I am still a bit sick and every time I laugh I have a fantastically disgusting coughing fit.

But yeah, have a good one. It's days like to today (when it pisses with rain) that I miss Dublin. Where the pubs have cozy fires and scampi fries.

I miss my iPod.

2011-03-17T13:40:00.000-07:00

Yes, I lost my iPod just after Christmas. The third I've lost because I am a total fucking tool. Left it on the plane like a tit and didn't notice for ages. Too weary and disillusioned to phone the airline (I flew Ryanair) so now I am forced to spend my days listening to German teenagers and maniacs' inane chitchat on the BVG. Grr, argh. Along with the blissful, blissful removal from others' conversations that portable music devices bring I miss my freakin' music, man. In particular I miss The National. They make me so very, very glad I have ears. No mean feat as my ears and I have always had an uneasy relationship, though this has improved slightly since I achieved what my mother always promised I would and "grew into them". But yes, this band are truly, truly fantastic. I also miss the hip hop playlist that me fella put on there, that I would put on when I was in a pissy mood/it was raining/I'd no cash to buy a Ritter Sport*, put my parka hood up and stomp around to.

* Yes, these are the problems in my life, pretty much. I should be shot for ever complaining.

The Guardian's New Europe

2011-03-16T13:33:00.000-07:00

So the Guardian are doing a series on "New Europe", whatever the dickens that means, and this week Germany ist dran. This article might be a little on the facile side but generally I found it fairly accurate and amusing. Any other Berliners/Germans/random people who have ended up living in Germany out there who feel differently? I am interested in how nations see themselves, and how this correlates with other views, however (un)informed*.

Me, I quite like the Germans, deep down. Except that it takes you bloody ages to reach "deep down", as opposed to Ireland where time required to move from near-strangers to near-best-friends = approx. half a pint/full normal-sized cuppa. And until you get there it's all Frau Chamberlain this, Sie that. Formal and restrained and just the teensiest bit cold. At least in my experience.

* If this sounds like I'm soliciting for material for some sort of thesis, I'm not. Just really, really nosy.

Things I do now that I'm married...

2011-03-14T13:18:00.000-07:00

...that I'd never have done before.

#1 Contemplate buying a house. When my uncle (who is "good with money") suggested this when we were asking for advice as to what to do with money accrued from the wedding I very nearly passed out. Seriously, I went all pale and weird and started stammering that I wasn't a grown-up yet and that it seemed "too permanent". But I've more or less overcome that now, just about in time to discover we probably couldn't afford to do anything of the sort. Ach, well.

#2 I have started collecting interior design images in my special folder on the hubby's Mac. My laptop finally died you see*, so I'm using his, and he made me the special folder to stop me "messing up the whole darned desktop"**. I went shopping today not for clothes or other trinkets but for a laundry "hamper". I actually used that word in my head and all. A "hamper". Ker-ist.

#3 I am contemplating making a spreadsheet to sort out our finances. I figure this will be the final nail in my hip-and-cool-gal-about-town persona's coffin, but, and this is the really worrying bit, I really don't care. When I'm not having a silly, hangover induced freak-out about how "boring" my life has become (it hasn't at all), I am perfectly content pottering about doing domestic things. At least for the moment, I'd imagine the novelty of domestic bliss would wear of pretty sharply if I was to follow through on the threat I made today and just become "a stay-at-home little wifey". But for the moment, for these next few months before the Big Move location and career-wise I'm going to try and glean all the enjoyment I can out of the simple miracle that is me being a lovestruck newlywed.

* To be fair, it didn't completely. I just finally ran out of patience with the fucking thing.
** The husband doesn't actually used words like "darned" unless he's being ironic. But sometimes, him being Texan and all, I like to have him speak like a cowboy in my head.

Being A Better Me

2011-03-14T12:29:00.000-07:00

So after a weekend of doing fuck all but drinking myself into an increasingly pissy mood and thus being horrible to my lovely husband (a man of immense patience, thank the good lord) I have decided that enough is enough. I am (seriously now) going off the drink until Good Friday. I know if I was going full Lenten hog it would be Easter Sunday, but we're going on our honeymoon that weekend, and I want to be able to enjoy a beer or two* on the banks on the Donau (we're going to Regensburg, in which the husband used to live, and which is apparently gorgeous). Wish me luck!

* Seriously, I am going to have to become one of those people that says "going for a few drinks" and actually means just that. I just cannot handle it otherwise.

Today...

2011-03-14T12:23:00.000-07:00

...I went for a walk in Templehofer Park. For shame I have never been there before due to last stage terminal laziness. But in my new spirit of Being a Better Me I dragged myself along (I hadn't left the house since Friday evening, disgusting). And d'you know what? It was lovely. All misty and crazy looking and really flat. Full of weird "art" and cool dogs and also some mean looking dogs, but they were in the little fenced off bit so that was okay. I should mention I'm not some weird dog-fearer, this one was just really mean.

Then I went for a potter about in the neighbourhood next to mine, that bit with the Schillerpromenade and Herrfurthplatz in it. It was nice, I love aimlessly wandering round another Kiez, particularly if it's close enough to my house to make discovering a new bar or cafe doubly exciting. I did peer into one promising looking one on Selchower strasse that I am going to properly check out when I get the chance. I love a good cafe, and I need to make the most of them before the summer comes and I spend all my free time down by the kanal drinking Augustiner and Tegenseer Hell and wondering if I'll ever really, truly, totally want to leave this city.

More Wedding Stuff

2011-03-11T12:29:00.000-08:00

And then I will stop, I promise.

At the ceremony, which was in the lovely Armagh Registry Office/Council Chambers, Steven and I walked in (together, European style. I think. They do it in Greece, anyway) to this song, my cousin read the lyrics to this as our reading, my brothers played this one, and then we walked out to this.

I want to do it ALL OVER AGAIN.

Megan's Top Wedding Tips

2011-03-11T12:19:00.000-08:00

Just in case you're in the market. I can honestly say it was the best day I can ever remember, so if you'd like to hear how we did it, read on....

#1 Marry someone you adore to the end of their fingertips (seriously, I love his fingertips). Sounds obvious, seems like a lot of people overlook it.

#2 Get a dress that makes you feel like a gazillion dollars, but that is not actually a gazillion dollars. Seriously, the MONEY people spend on ONE DRESS that they will wear ONCE. I adored my dress but the fact that I got it for considerably less than a gazillion dollars meant that I didn't have to freak out when it ended up a bit frayed by my bracelet, and a wee tiny bit covered in red wine and Guiness by the end of the night.

#3 If you can persuade them, get someone you love to perform at your ceremony, not some random strangers. My brothers played and sang this song and it made me cry. In a really good way.

#4 If you can, at all, have some of the day at home. We had drinks in my granny's house, then lunch in my mum's (they are next door to each other). It was lovely. You should try to do it because home is home and function rooms are not and they often have weird carpets.

#5 Have the party in your favourite local pub. Everyone will have the best time, if our party is anything to go by. Plus strangers tell you you're beautiful all night, and you'll never have to buy a drink. What's not to love?

The Missus.

2011-03-11T11:31:00.000-08:00

Yup, that's me. A married woman. Hence why I haven't blogged in AN AGE. Too busy getting married and doing the necessary gin drinking and comedy dancing that constitute our family gatherings. But yes, I'm back in the land of reality now (as much as I ever am... Jesus, doesn't that sound lame? Like I see myself as some free-spirit hippie fairy. I don't, I'm just a bit vague, is what I'm getting at). And as my Lenten bit I am going to post something every day for the next forty days. And if not every day then at least one for every day (I have to catch up a bit already), if you get me. It was either this or joining the gym and going three times a week. This won. Needless to say.

Right, okay, interesting stuff...I've been discovering lots of new blogs lately. This is of course because of the large gap left in my blogosphere by the departure of the Wedding Blogs. We shall not speak of the WBs again, as they are truly, truly ridiculous to anyone but wimmen planning their "Big Day". Though there seem to be a huge volume of women who keep reading them even after their wedding has been and gone. Really? How can you like weddings that much? I mean, I LOVED my own but it was, you know, mine. Anyway, yes, so I've resorted to my old favourites, food and pretty pictures blogs.

Joy the Baker (I want to move into her kitchen and become her friend and have her bake me treats all day. In a non-creepy way. Maybe...)

Erin Ever After (I like the things she likes)

Have a read, Internet Folks, you like blogs, you like food (if you don't please stop reading this blog, it is NOT FOR YOUR KIND), you probably like pretty things, and so you might just like these.

How to have a cheap and delicious dinner...

2011-02-10T14:16:00.000-08:00

...because this blog was actually supposed to be about being broke in Berlin and what to do about it, rather than my endless ramblings.

1. Take the day old baguette off the kitchen counter and run it under a little water. Stick it in the oven at about 150 degrees for 10 mins. Stale to lovely and crunchy and soft-in-the-middle in two easy steps! Fry two free-range eggs (seriously, I am not usually too fussy about food but battery eggs, really? Really?) in (quite a lot) of butter. Not oil, butter. If butter is important enough for me to have a really embarrassing strop with my fiance in Karstadt about it's good enough for you to fry your eggs in. While they are frying up salt and pepper 'em liberally. Take the bit of salad that is just about to go a bit wrong out of the bottom of the fringe, pick out the really dodgy bits and put some salt, balsamic vinegar and olive oil on it. Enjoy, I know I did!

2. Get a doener from the place just at Rathaus Neukoelln U Bahn. Can't remember the name but the sign is vaguely orange and you have to go up steps into it. Their meat is all delicious and stewed tasting. They also do a fine lentil soup.

3. Make soup. It is literally the most bestest thing to do in the winter. It is also easy peasy. 1 part onion, 1 part potato, 1 part other vegetable (or mix of vegetables), 4 parts stock, plus seasoning. The blend that shit up with one of those funky hand held thingymajiggys and eat it with bread and your lovely friends who have come to help you out with wedding invitations. Gals, I love y'all.

Things I need to stop doing...

2011-01-28T11:40:00.000-08:00

...now that I am about to become a Proper Grown Up Married Person.

# 1. Always being hungover on Thursdays.

# 2. And Tuesdays.

# 3. Having half a bag of cheese nachos as "an hors d'oevre".

# 4. Only doing laundry when begged by the Betrothed or when the pile behind the door makes it difficult to open said door.

# 5. Relying on kebabs for my vegetable intake.

I'm sick but I'm definitely not pretty...

2011-01-15T12:21:00.000-08:00

Dear lord, that's it. I am giving up the high life. I'm just not able for it anymore. I'm not sure I've ever been so sick in my life. And in the actual street. I should be banned, or at least more heavily regulated. This always happens when the Betrothed is away, I think I can just slip back into my former party girl ways with barely a ripple but no, no, no I cannot. It takes training and dedication to get as wasted as I used to and emerge unscathed, one can't just do it on a whim. So yes, until the time comes when I'm ready to do fully-fledged alcoholic mania, I am out.

If you'll excuse me, I have to go get ready for the pub. As Alanis probably wouldn't say, seeing as her grasp of the concept appears to be so tenuous, isn't it ironic?

I'm sick but I'm pretty (ish).

2011-01-08T09:30:00.000-08:00

Is there anything fucking worse than being sick on the weekend? All the live long week this lurgy could have struck me down and earned me sweet, sweet guilt free sick days (as opposed to my other sick days which are inevitably hangover-guilt ridden) but no, the little fuckwit waits until Friday night to really pounce. No booze for Megan (well, not as much as I'd bloody like) and, because I live in goddamn Germany) no fun drugs either. It baffles me that you cannot get so much as a cold compress without a prescription here. I am rationing my imported Day Nurse like it's smack, but after that it's bloody Salbei sweets and Erkaeltungs Tee for muggins here.

Moan, moan, bitch, complain, ugh, sorry. Happy New Year Leute! Bit belated but, you know, bit lazy. Anyone make any resolutions? I did, I think. I was incredibly drunk on New Year's Eve, but I think I vaguely remember some redemptive contemplation between the Hendrick's Gin, Buckfast, "Dolan Bombs"* and rebel songs being sung around the kitchen table.

Don't complain about my work unless I'm doing it constructively. Grown-up, professional meetings with the bosses= good. Moaning "but whyyyyy are theeeeeey sooooo eeeeeevil???" over and over to anyone fool enough to listen= bad.

Spend more time, and dare I say it, money on my appearance. Call me shallow (the reasoning behind why I think you shouldn't I am currently too achy to go into) but 2010's looks of choice (Colourblind Trannie, Mental Childcare Professional, and, my personal favourite, Really Boring Ugly Person) left me feeling a little cold, not to mention dispirited, cranky and crap.

See more live music. I think I saw about one and a half bands play last year, and that's just silly. I'd like to blame Berlin and it's, admittedly pretty poor, indie music scene, but I wasn't even trying. You have to be in it to win it!

Eat less. Move more.

Wish me luck!!

* Dolan Bombs are, allegedly, a variation of the Jaeger Bomb created by our good family friends the Dolans. As far as I can gather, it involves pouring a lot of different alcohols into some form of disgusting energy drink and forcing people to drink it really fast. Explanation or even justification escapes me.

COLD! COLD! FREEZINGFUCKINGCOLD!

2010-12-01T14:02:00.000-08:00

Oh good lord ladies and gents of Berlin, Winter ist da, oder? I've just come from checking out the betrothed and my new pad and Rathaus Neukoelln looked like a swirling, Siberian wasteland. But, but, BUT my pretties, I have very possibly cracked the winter dressing code. I, who am usually a wimpering wreck in anything less than freezing, was quite cosy all day. And I am willing to share my glorious warming secrets of joy with you, dear readers. It is all in the LAYERS. Layers and wool. Like an onion made out of a sheep.

Layer number one- Obviously normal underwear, and then THERMAL VESTS. There should be two layers, an actual vest and a long sleeved t-shirt type affair.

Layer two- LONG JOHNS. The fancier the better. I have lovely Merino wool ones that my mummy gave me one year we went skiing. I may never take them off.

Layer three- two pairs (at least) of socks. DISCLAIMER- I am not saying that any of these undergarments are going to give you a very sexy final result, but a) warmth trumps sexy (I mean, in the context of spending-all-day-outside-or-on-public-transport) and b) I have a ring on my freakin' finger, bitches. If he's gone this far, he can probably deal with the 'johns.

Layer four- a normal outfit. Ie. trousers, top, jumper. What we'd all be wearing, basically, if we were sensible enough to being living somewhere not totally Arschkalt.

Layer five- Extra Cardigan. I cannot stress the importance of Extra Cardigan. It should be as wooly and large and offensively unflattering as possible. Trust me, it's worth it. If in doubt, think ONION SHEEP.

Layer six- Coat and Accessories. Again, as oversized and bulky as possible. Mittens are better than gloves (because your fingers can rub against eachother for sweet love-warmth), and remember that if your fingers retain any dexerity at all in them then they are too thin. Hats should be ridicluous (my large flappy monstrosity gives me terrifyingly static hair, and no peripheral vision but I LOVE it). Unfortunately my extreme vanity disallows me from really proper winter boots and coats, but Operation Onion Sheep properly executed actually removes a lot of their importance.

Okay, Leute, that is all my warming wisdom. I have to get back to reading my wedding blogs. And yes, I know it's pathetic, and no, I don't care. I'm getttttiiiiinnnnng maaaaarrrriedddd!!

Ah, November in Berlin!

2010-11-18T10:03:00.000-08:00

What a joyous, joyous month. Piss-rainy, cold, and I'll eat my fucking hat if anyone's seen the sun for a week. Oh, and Sunday doesn't count as I was hungover and didn't leave the house. Anyway, I think it's high time I started thinking about ways to Combat the Grey.

CTG Plan Nummer Eins: DRINK. I am now on my third winter in Berlin, and I feel it's going to be another of vaguely toying with alcoholism, which is not to be confused with my Daily Summer Drinking Plan, which is celebratory and social, and therefore not in anyway lamentable or worrying. Oh no, Winter Alcoholism is an entirely different show pony because it is born not out of joy and sunshine but cold, hard necessity. Seriously, I have not seen the sun in DAYS, all the kids are snotty as all get out and my umbrella has not dried out for four days straight. The only thing for it, literally, is to drink. I am trying to keep myself off the Gluehwein until atleast the third week of November but if this weather doesn't pick up I ain't making no promises.

CTG Plan Nummer Zwei: listen to weird Berlin and Brandenburg Radio stations. Namely Berliner Runkfunk 91.4. Seriously, it plays the HITS. Though, ironically, not at this very moment. Ha, no, total lies. Tom Jones, She's a Lady. Hells to the yeah.

CTG Plan Nummer Drei: Hot chocolate and knitwear and good books.Often it's good to go with the classics.

Read this...

2010-11-09T12:47:00.000-08:00

...it's good. He's super talented, my fella.

On being engaged.

2010-11-04T13:49:00.000-07:00

So being engaged is lovely. Just lovely. You get to prance around with a sweet ring on your finger and an even sweetner feeling of smugness that you'll never again have to worry if he's ever going to caaaaaaaall???? People bring champagne to your house and all your girlfriends treat you like a princess. It is freakin' awesome.

Planning a wedding in four months, however, slightly less lovely and smug-making. Not the actual ceremony, food and party bit, that's fun and, you know, not too difficult unless you happen to be demented and care about things like colour schemes and having everything fit into your "romantic/casual Parisian rose garden in June" theme. No, that's the stuff I'm enjoying thinking about, other stuff not so much:

Other stuff like the fact I'm marrying an American. I mean, obviously, I love that my betrothed is American (not least because he sounds very sexy when he sings country songs and also deeply understands my appreciation for all things pie-related) but dear God and sweet baby Jesus, does it ever complicate things. We are currently in the midst of his marriage visa application, a process devised to inject your special day with the romantic thrills that can only come from endless paperwork and fingerprinting. Hurrah!

It is also proving staggeringly difficult to find (even a picture of) a wedding dress that isn't horrible. Or covered in seqins. Or feathers. Or bows. Or ALL OF THE FREAKIN' ABOVE. Seriously, so many hideous merengues, only so much time to wade through all the crap and Swarovsky. However, on my daily trawl of the few wedding themed websites I can stomach, I might just have happened upon something. Obviously, it will only be stocked in some silly boutique in Williamsburg (hipsters get married too!), so I shall have to get it made. I also want to tweak it a bit anyway, for added individuality and, if I'm honest, SEX APPEAL. So if anyone knows a Berlin based dress makery type person, hit me up. Please.

I've just come to the horrible realisation that I've written a whole paragraph about my search for a perfect wedding dress. For strangers to read. On the internet. If you'll excuse me I have to go lie down in a darkened feminist novel. Good night.

A little ray of sunshiny light...

2010-10-26T13:42:00.001-07:00

...in the stream of sporadic moaning and rambling that this "blog" has become:

I AM ENGAGED TO THE BEST MAN IN THE WORLD.

That will be all.

BBQ! BBQ! BBQ!

2010-10-11T06:18:00.000-07:00

So on Friday the Boyfriend (who is from El Paso, Texas, of all places) was wandering aimlessly round Gruenau (as we English teachers are wont to do. Seriously, the places they send us...) when he stumbled upon a place claiming to be an authentic Texan bbq joint, namely Wright's BBQ. Intrigued, he snoops around until discovered by the owners (the place is still closed), who invite him in for further snooping and chatting. Turns out that not only are they Texan, but they are from El Paso, of all places. The Boyfriend's excitement is barely to be contained, and arranges for us to go out the next day for lunch.

Suffice to say we ended up staying there for about seventy-nine hours. And oh sweet Jesus Lord was it ever good. We went for lunch on Saturday and started with brisket and ribs, with a variety of delicious sides, and then got so drunk on tequila and whiskey we had to stay for dinner, which was brisket (the BF's) and chicken (mine, and SOFUCKINGGOOD) sandwiches on homemade bread. Then we drank more.

So yes, go go GO! Go say hello to the lovely Thomas and his sister Claire who run the place (and will listen to you mumble and bumble on endlessly for hours whilst cheerfully refilling your drinks). Go eat brisket and chicken and ribs and beans and Texas style potato salad and AWESOMENESS.

Sugar in my tea.

2010-09-25T05:41:00.000-07:00

Means I have a vague hangover. Vague, yes, but a hangover nonetheless. After no less than four beers. FOUR! Who the fuck am I? The Virgin Mary? But anyway, I have tea and gross yet delicious pastries and an afternoon of doing very little and then some mad rock party in Neukoelln to look forward to today, so all is not lost. Add to that the fact that yesterday was AWESOME and it's shaping up to be a very good weekend indeed!

So yes, yesterday. It started out sunny and awesome, particularly as I was assesed teaching a class and it went superbly well. The children were ANGELS, and I was so, so proud of them. A special shout out goes to Julian (4) for yelling "Ha, ha, you're touching his willy!" when I was helping Jonas with his fly. Good times. Then I took myself off to Potsdam for the afternoon as the weather was so glorious and I had never been there before. And well golly, aren't I glad I did. I was only there for a wander and coffee and cheesecake amount of time but I really felt that I'd been away. And it is so, so pretty. Go, go I cannot recommend it enough.

And then, to top it all off, I spent the evening with some good people, sitting by the canal (complete with full moon and about seven million swans) and in a bar, drinking delicious German beer and shouting about things.

Happy weekend!

2010-09-17T12:52:00.000-07:00

To try to counteract the disgusting levels of depravity reached last weekend*, I am having a quiet one this time around. It's going well, I'm in my amazing lesbian jimjams already, and it's only 21.55! I am busy downloading season one of Glee, and am about to stream the shit out of some It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Tomorrow, unfortunately, I shall not be going on an exciting mullet-themed adventure as my bastarding work are dragging us all in for a workshop. Whoopee. Seriously, I work for such an unbelievable shower of fucks. They literally have no idea how to manage staff, and their reasoning is, eternally, that as long as it's in our contract, and they pay us on time, they are in the clear. In fact, as long as they do that they actually don't understand at all why we get angry with them when they give us extra classes at short notice, few holidays, and barely any fucking money. It's almost pathetic watching their funny little minds pack in when confronted with requests for courtesy, respect or humane treatment. "But the money is in your account every month, why don't you trust us?". Oh sorry, yes, well done, sirs. We're pissed off with you, to a man, but you haven't mistreated us to the point of actual breach of contract. Excuse me while I heave the medal of Employer of the Year around your weird scrawny neck. Seriously, both of my bosses have weird necks. Like chicken necks but on backwards or something.

Good Lord, sorry, this was supposed to be a happy post! Which it is. Will be. Trying to think of happy things....fuck it, go watch the episode of It's Always Sunny wherethey go to the Grand Canyon. If that doesn't make you happy to be a human you're a lost cause.

* At one point on Friday night my contact lense fell out. I found it some time later, stuck to the top of my shoe. I spat on it, and put it back in. Oh yes.

Ooooh la la!

2010-09-15T14:16:00.000-07:00

I was in suuuuuuch a good mood today. That's what an enormous coffee on an empty stomach before going to dance around for an hour with a sweet group of kids in a lovely, tiny Kindergarten way down in the wilds of south Neukoelln will do for one. In an attempt to balance out the CRINGING HORROR of the last post, here are some other things that will make you happy:

Making delicious (almost, I need to tweak it about somehow...) apple and blueberry crumble because it's cold and piss-rainy outside.

Sharing homemade apple and blueberry crumble with someone (definitely) delicious.

Planning weekend adventures somewhere exciting (or even somewhere totally shit, it's all about the attitude, Leute) where you're going to run around like a tourist and have delicious picnics and drink beer in weird places with people with mullets.

Realising that when you have the above planned already, you can move on to planning the day's OUTFIT.

Reading this blog and wondering, since you've never been to Texas, WHY THE SWEET HOLY DICKENS YOU MISS THE FOOD SO DAMN MUCH?

Spending hours youtubing American comedians. This dude is freakin' hilarious:

Oh God, take me away.

2010-09-05T10:28:00.001-07:00

You know, I think my love affair with Berlin may have come to an end. There, I said it. It's painful to admit, but its purpose for me has been fulfilled, namely allowing myself to drink and party my way into listless stupidity, teaching me the valuable life lesson that I don't, in fact, want to be an alcoholic It-Girl. With this accomplished, I am left stumbling round a city that can offer me very little in terms of career advancement, and that has started to feel less like home the more I live here. Subsequently, I am bored out of my mind and miserable. I am also soooooooo broke, wie immer.

Oh, Gott. Woe is me. How horribly, horribly self-indulgent, moaning on about one's problems on a blog, of all places. It's disgusting, and I apologise. What I need is to do is to start doing some stuff to entertain myself. As the Boyfriend (who is both wise and sage) says "only boring people get bored". And the irony is not lost on me that I am posting this on a day when I have actually failed to leave the house. Shame on me, I'm going to make a list entitled "Things to do to avoid being bored and getting so whiny that you end up losing all your friends not to mention what little self-respect you have left", and follow it to the letter. Lists make everything better.

Brokety, brokety, broke.

2010-08-27T14:22:00.001-07:00

Again. Seriously, I have no idea how I do it. And no, I'm not one of those fools that says that whilst fondly gazing at the new 80 euro boots she just bought herself. I swear to you, I do not really buy things unless absolutely fucking necessary. I had to force myself two weeks ago to buy some jeans and flats because my other jeans and flats had two holes apeice in them, and had done for months. I haven't had a haircut in about seven years and God knows, I barely spend money on things like cosmetics (I only really wear foundation and mascara as, in the words of many who have tried to get me "into" other eye make-up, I look "um...yeah..really fucking weird" wearing much else).

All of this then begs the question WHERE THE HOLY HELL IS ALL MY MONEY GOING? I have racked my brains and racked my brains and still have no idea. Which leads me to the uncomfortable conclusion that my lack of funds is still down to the worst of all financial pitfalls, the Drunk Withdrawal. You know the one, the "ish only two a.m, and I wansh more vodka ansh stuffs, so fucking wash if there'sh no Postshbank cashpoint in the Naehe, I'll jussst fucking use thisssh one, fuck the six euro chargsh". SIX EUROS? Are you fucking insane? That's a delicious Vietnamese feast at Hamy PLUS icecream after, you drunken nutbag.

Oh well, I figure being broke keeps me qualifying as living on the edge, despite my steady job (as a teacher, ffs) and steady beau (do I miss the days of actually having to entertain the thought of going home with the maniacs only I seem to attract in clubs? HA!). And, as we all know, living on the edge keeps one hip and attractive and away from trouser suits, which is bound to be a good thing.

Happy Weekend Everyone!

2010-08-21T02:00:00.000-07:00

This weekend happiness is being sent my way from several quarters. Hope yours is too.

1. The weather is all lovely and sunny and warm again. But also BREEZY so not GODDAWFULLY SWEATY. An important distinction, that.

2. The Boyfriend and I (I say "and I", I will be having little to do with it, really...) are making carnitas today. I have never eaten carnitas before but anything to do with Mexican food, tender pork and the Boyfriend's cooking is bound to be good.

3. Glee. If you haven't started watching it, do. Show choirs singing and dancing to uplifting and jazzy songs, teen drama and the struggle of committed teaching staff to do right by their pupils? It's like it was freakin' MADE FOR ME.

4. I'm back at work so I got to spend the week in the company of hilarious minature people who tell you endless stories about their Grandma and the time they saw a crab.

5. Fantasing about taking Alexa Chung out for cake. Such, such a pretty girl, and I think she could actually be quite cool and we could hang out and talk about music and clothes and stuff, but such, SUCH a great need for cake.

I have to go and shower now, in preparation for a nice sunny stroll to Hermannplatz for the purchasing of a pig's ass meat. Unless the BF has been using my limited grasp of the technicalities of Mexican food/what happens in the real world to mislead me for his own amusement, that is what we are actually doing today.

Life Administration.

2010-08-11T11:10:00.000-07:00

Sucks. Big time. You know what I mean, all the boring useless crap like sorting out health insurance and opening and closing bank accounts and general useless boring crap. And Sweet Baby Jesus Lord, is there a lot more of it to do over here. I'm never moving house again. Except of course that I am. Again. In two weeks. Or at least I will be if I ever find a fucking place to live.

Hopefully, hopefully I have a place sorted, though that might not be avaiable til mid-October, by which point I'll be so bloody fed up I'll be ready for the hills. I'm just hoping it'll be okay becuase I think any time I spend on Wggesucht is damaging to my health. Seriously, will noone, NOONE, pick up on the irony of writing a three paragraph description about how "unkompliziert" their flatshare is? Christ Almighty, it's enough to make me miss the mad estate agents of Dublin who used to show us round flats (after the initial wait of an hour whilst he went back to the office to get the right keys) that had knives in the toilet bowl.

On the plus side, the weather is still nice, I'm going to tapas in a bit, and someone wonderful made me a yummy burger yesterday. All is not lost, all is in fact going pretty okay.

Holy Sweet Jesus Lord.

2010-07-12T03:40:00.000-07:00

It is HOT. I am going through cold Club Mates and cold showers like they're going out of fashion. And today, I swear it, is lake day. I have yet to get my lake on in Berlin, but the time has come to submerge myself in some cold Wasser. So, so sweaty.

Another fantastic advantage of the soaring temperatures is the fact that Berlin customer service reaches a whole new pinnacle of unpleasantness. A few tips, if I may, to New Waitresses Everywhere; I know it's a million degrees, and starting a new job is stressful but, and here is the key thing, none of this is actually MY fault. If you're not ready for my order don't bark the customary "bitte schoen" at me and then, upon hearing my order of THREE, not twenty, THREE ITEMS, growl "uuuuh, klein Moment"whilst rolling your eyes manically at me as if I just asked to fellate your boyfriend rather than have some waffles. If you're new, just smile, say sorry for being SO FREAKIN' SLOW, explain your newness and then everyhting will be nice and I won't feel like punching you or crying or both.

Ahem. Lake time it is.

Oh My Goodness...

2010-07-06T02:16:00.000-07:00

So I was reading this blog, which linked me to this post on another. And now I'm crying. But in a good way. Read it and have your faith in humanity do a wee jump. It's made me feel all yummy and happy and I'm going to spend te rest of the morning drinking tea and looking at cottages in the west of Ireland so things are only going to get BETTER.

Have spent the weekend...

2010-07-04T14:12:00.000-07:00

...stony, stony broke as I won't get paid 'til the morrow. Subsequently, I have spent my days lusting after things I cannot at this very moment have. Some of these things are mere pipe dreams, and others are things I may very well treat myself to tomorrow, or as soon as I locate them.

CAKE. Now, anyone reading this who actually knows me will point out that about 90% of my time is already taken up with lusting after cake, but when I can't actually literally afford any cake this creeps up to around the 98% mark. Particularly as I recently discovered the Brezel Company on Lenaustrasse in Neukoelln. Oh but their cakes all look delicious and I can vouch for the chocolate and pear tarte as genuinely being so. Their waffles also will make you (well, made me..) make incomprehensible but very appreciative sounds for a lengthy amount of time. Do it, you won't regret it. Unless you are some sort of dreadful anorexic/bulemic type person, when you might well regret it, in which case, go away, this blog is NOT FOR YOU.

SAILOR DRESSES. Goddamn you pretty sailor-dress clad girl that I saw at the clothes-y type market where the Turkish market usually is, you have made my day a hell of wanting. Well, not really, but it was a damned fine sailor dress and now I can picture myself in nothing else. Seriously, is there anything more cuter and flimflammerier than a big collar and a blue-and-white colour scheme? I think not.

A REALLY GOOD LOOKING BLOG. Like this one, which is delicious looking and shows a million lovely things in its posts. I will never have such a thing, of course, due to the frequently referenced lack of computer savvy and general laziness*, but a girl can dream.

A COUNTRY HOUSE WITH A GARDEN BY A LAKE. I don't think this one needs any explaining, as I sit here gently sweating as I type. Oh, what I wouldn't give to spend this muggy night skinny dipping and lying on a lawn looking at the sky with just the moon and some very select company looking on.

Happy Summer, everyone.

* And also possibly the fantastic eye for style and design that this girl has.

Flip flopping.

2010-06-28T10:32:00.000-07:00

I love summer in Berlin for many reasons. I have spent most of today flip flopping around in flip flops (well, not really flip flops. I hate flips flops, but like how the word sounds. I'm mad for a bit of onomatopoeia, me. They're just sandals, really. Or "jandals" as my New Zealand friend inexplicably refers to them) as I had loads of classes cancelled (another reason I love summer, the kids' desire to learn is wilting like a wilting thing). I did lots of nice things like enjoy the sun and drink a refreshing Club Mate by the canal with New York Giulia and generally wonder at the loveliness of Berlin in Sommer.

Enjoy it Leute, for it is wonderous.

SOMMER IST DA!!!!!!!!!!!!

2010-06-27T02:43:00.000-07:00

Endlich. And with it comes a whole host of pros and cons. Mainly pros. I love Berlin in the summer, but I swear to God they lie when they say the buses are klimatisiert. Particualy in Spandau. I have sweated more in my life on the buses in Spandau than I have in any gym. Gross, gross, gross. But then it is Spandau, so I don't know what I'm expecting.

But oh the pros! The biggie is the weather, obviously, and I just checked weather.com and it's going to be like this for ten days at least! Oh the joy and wonder of an Irish girl looking at a forecast that states "chance of precipitation: 0%". La, la, la and LA. I am going to wear shorts today.

Scrap the shorts, I just tried them on and they are too scandalous for non-holiday wear. Seriously, I looked like the Gaga, which is all very well but time and place and all that and a Sunday afternoon helping the boyfriend move house is neither the time nor place for Gaga-emulation. Summer dress it is. Nope, not dress, different shorts. More floral, less Gaga.

Jesus Christ, I need to leave the house. This post has descended into nothing more that me babbling about outfit changes. Sorry. It may be sunny, but I seem to retain the unfailing abilty to digress and dress inappropriately. Sigh.

101 Posts.

2010-06-15T11:21:00.000-07:00

It would appear that my posts, much like the dalmatians, now number 101. Hurrah!! And my readers are now in double figures which is most gratifying for a blog which is largely unreliable, verbose and pointless. In the spirit of this milestone, however, I shall here by deliver a post that actually corresponds to this blog's actual supposed purpose. Namely, what to do when you're BROKE IN BERLIN.

EINS. Revel in the fact that everywhere, from bars to bakeries, has somehow managed to set up a big screen for the WELTMEISTERSCHAFT (yet another German word it is impossible to pronounce without SHOUTING). I have yet to see any matches as a) I am not a fan of sports, as such, anf b) I am piss-lazy but it looks mighty fun. I figure if I do decide to get involved I'm going to eschew paying for overpriced beer at some swanky Biergarten and just rock up to my local spaeti. I don't know the Turkish for "oh, you have a vagina ergo I won't even bother explaining the off-side rule to you" so there's a lot less chance I have punched someone in the face by half-time.

ZWEI. Go on one of the New Berlin free tours. Yes, even if you live here. Yes, even if you think Chris Sandeman is an evil shithead. I am about to drag my cousin, my cousin's boyfriend, my sister and my boyfriend on one on Saturday and oh boy, are we going to have fun. Don't forget to tip as a) the guide has to pay a few euros to the company for every tourist they take on their tours and b) they are really good. You will feel informed and exercised, and so are justified in spending the rest of the evening in the best state of being, smug drunkeness.

DREI. Go for an evening stroll around the canal. I did and I feel damned good for it.

That's all for post 101, I know that you know it's been chock-a-block with interesting and relevant facts and snippets, spread the word lovely people.

So I haven't had time for blogging...

2010-06-12T06:04:00.000-07:00

...as I've been busy running around being a productive and contributive member of German society for weeks on end.

Well, no, obviously not. But I have managed a impressive number of feats, almost entirely without trying. Take yesterday, for example when I literally scraped my nail down a blackboard (by accident, obviously. It will seriously make you want to throw up) AND somehow stood on a tomato on the U Bahn steps, making it violently explode all up the back of my leg. Thursday was equally brilliant, the highlight being the clump of unclaimed blonde hair I found on the floor after a cutting and pasting session with twelve five-year-olds.

On Wednesday though I did go to the KRANKENHAUS (which is word that must always we spoken at a slightly higher decibel level) as I desperately needed some antibiotics at night. And for something that I had envisioned being awful it was incredibly pleasant. Everyone I met was super nice and helpful and it was no problem at all that I didn't have my EHIC card, a Krankenkasse card, or in fact any form of I.D at all. I have yet to receive the bill, to be fair, but in terms of people being kind and nice and understanding it was right up there with....I cannot think of a single example here in Berlin. Not that I don't LOVE Berlin but a bit of a smile wouldn't kill them, is all I'm saying. Speaking of which, if you're reading this, please join my campaign MAKE THE BUS DRIVERS OF BERLIN NOT SUCH A MISERABLE SHOWER OF FUCKS. All you have to do is greet them with a warm smile when you get on the bus and REFUSE TO BE ABASHED WHEN THEY GLARE AT YOU. There is only so long even a Berlin bus driver can glare at a continually smiling visage without feeling like a dick. VIVE LA REVOLUTION!!!

So I'm going to Crete for a week...

2010-05-14T03:15:00.000-07:00

...as of next Saturday, to visit the mothership. This is exciting on many counts, not least that I might actually see the sun. Seriously, Deutschland, the fuck is wrong with you? So cold, so grey, so piss-miserable. Upon my return I want sunny skies, rising temperatures and some form of street carnival*. Get to it, B-lizzle.

As a result of my impending vacay I am about to head off bikini shopping. This is likely to prove difficult for several reasons. The first is that I am stony, stony broke. The second is that it is so cold outside the thought of a garment such as a bikini seems both terrifying and laughable. The third, and most overriding, difficulty in the Megan-swimwear equation is the fact that I am, and forever have been, so pale as to be translucent. And no, not in a luminous, could-be-an-extra-on-the-next-Twilight way (I freakin' WISH), just the bog standard, Irish, just-crawled-out-from-under-a-rock way. Le sigh.

* Not necessarily in my honour, though that would be a nice touch.

I keep forgetting all the AMAZING ideas I have for posts...

2010-05-11T13:46:00.000-07:00

Seriously, I do have 'em, like some mothers, but they just disappear as soon as I have to get off the train/answer the phone/think about cake instead. So here is a random assortment of the thoughts I CAN remember from recent times.

What is UP with these weird "wet-look-fake-leather" leggings all and sundry seem to be sporting these days? Fucking HID-E-OUS. They make you look like you've done a really long pee in your trousers. Ditto harem pants which just make me look at otherwise nice-looking, grown women and think "she wants her nappy changing". None of this is good, girls, and deep down you know it.

I really hope Whitney Houston isn't back with ol' man trouble Bobby Brown. Come on Whitney, RISE ABOVE. You sing How Will I know, ffs, you can rise above ALLES.

Why oh why do Germans love making cakes out of Quark so much?

What IS Quark?

I really like Kate Nash and wish she was my friend. Her new video is so poppy and snappy and fun. And she just looks so cute and pretty in a very unpolished way. As a very unpolished girl myself I find this comforting and happy-making....Somewhat annoyingly I've just had a closer look at her in the video and she does look very polished indeed make-up wise. But you know what I mean. She's not one of these American maniacs who looks like they've been varnished. That and she advocates reading a book or hanging out with oneself instead of agonising over rivals in LURVE. Wise words, Kate my liebe.

Right, I'd best be off. Have to shower before bed as they're turning our hot water off at 7.a.m tomorrow. Thanks guys, you rock. Particularly when you empty the bottle bins BEFORE SUNRISE (seriously, how is that normal?). In the spirit of grooming and wanting to be pretty and so forth I am going to try to plait my hair wet and then let it dry into lovely crinkley waves for the morrow whilst I get my beauty sleep. In all probabilty though this will fail and you should keep an eye out tomorrow for a woman who appears to have stapled a Yorshire terrier to her head. Say hi. Oh and here's Kate:

Flat-hunting, flat-hunting. II.

2010-04-14T09:26:00.000-07:00

Jesus, I'm just about to giveup. The Dream Flat is leider not available and God knows everything else is shit. Berlin, I love you but I draw the line at at living in a space that looks like it's been cobbled together out of spare bits of appartment block. Half a room here (seriously, HALF A ROOM IS GOOD FOR WHAT EXACTLY?), hardly any kitchen there (Mr Estate Agent Man you are very nice, and your gold trainers very snappy but I refuse to agree that my dining table would go nicely IN THE HALL). Please, Immobilien Gods, take pity on me. There's only so much more I can take.

And, while we're on the subject, this provision nonsense has me about ready to kill a puppy. The system seems to go something like this- someone wants to rent their flat out, they go to an estate agent, they receive a service, then the new renters, who have found the flat THEMSELVES, ONLINE, pay for this service. And not just a nominal amount, oh no, about 800 euros on average. It is alarmingly similar to the logic that allows out-going renters to say things like "oh and there's an extra 500 euro we'd ask you for, should you want the flat, because 18 months ago we made some decorating decisions that you should pay for, natuerlich und logisch". If anyone can point out what the fuck is logisch about that I'll be mighty bloody ueberrascht.

Flat-hunting, flat-hunting...

2010-04-10T11:22:00.000-07:00

...is boring and crap and I'm sick of it. You have to spend ALL YOUR WAKING HOURS on the FUCKING INTERNET looking at ad after ad and PHONING PEOPLE and getting up at stupid o'clock on a Saturday when you're really TOO HUNGOVER and going to look at damned flats and having to pay 30c for the damned priviledge of vomiting in the loo at Neukoelln Arcaden. Ugh, ugh ugh and UGH.

But yesterday, and then again to today, I visited the loveliest flat I've seen in a long while. Hopefully, hopefully we will get it but, not being German, we haven't got all our Unterlagen sorted out. Damn them and their obsession with paperwork. But fingers crossed...

God, I may well have drank my own weight in vodka last night. I blame the Polish*. We went to Fire Club on Zionkirchestrasse which was fun but not amazing. Odd music. But fun was had, to my hazy recollection. Shapes were thrown, etc etc. Ugh, too drunk. Must grow up, three drinks maximum, like Gweneth Paltrow would do. Paltrow, I am willing to bet, has never been forced to pay to get sick in a public toilet.

* I mean the Polish people I was drinking with, not just the population in general. That would be rude, and they've enough on their plate at the moment without me sticking my oar in.

So my lovely ex-flatmate...

2010-04-01T10:22:00.000-07:00

...and her new flatmate have started an awesome blog all about make-up and stuff. It's great, and lovely and pretty in a way mine will probably never be as I don't understand computers. Aaaaanyway, it's got me thinking on the many ways in which I fail to live up to modern grooming standards. I mean, you shouldn't think that I am running the streets of Berlin looking like some total hog with a mustache but my eyebrows are definitely more Brooke Shields than well, anyone with really shapely, dainty brows, and my methods of "shaping" my nails often involve the highly glamourous and not at all gross "biting and chewing" approach. And when it comes to make-up my relationship with that is best described in the immortal words of my mother, "Good lord, Megan, you look like a child with finger paints". So yeah, read lovely, elegant Clare and Jade's opinions on such matters and leave me to my vague, incoherent ramblings.

Speaking of vague and incoherent,I'm going out tonight. First my lovely friends are cooking me dinner and then we're going to Kleine Reise which has reopened in its usual and amazing location. I intend to be merry but composed as have a flight to get tomorrow and if I arrive hungover (again) my mother may actually kill me. On the off chance that any of you see me tonight, heading out of the realm of the merry but composed, please, please send me home.

No News Is Good News.

2010-03-21T03:59:00.000-07:00

I have been trying to read the news this morning, which has culimated in me reading no actual news but many interesting articles and interviews (many, I am not going to lie, concerning themselves with fashion). The reason I can't read the real news is that it's all so horribly depressing and awful that I can't even bring myself to click on the headline links on the Guardian website. Who wants to read something entitled "Bengal viallagers pay with blood for steel plant" or "'Day of Wrath' brings Russians on to the streets"? Not me, that's for sure. Even the relatively safe ground of "Life and Style" is today peppered with potential horrors; close friends dying of cancer, parents with MS, and acting classes for those post-botox.

Have resorted to reading the Food section. Yummy, comforting, apoltical layer cake, I salute you.

BIRTHDAY!!

2010-03-03T11:11:00.001-08:00

I haven't blogged in a while, ostensibly because I have been busy, mainly because I have been lazy. But two weekends ago I had one of the best birthdays ever, ever, ever. The fact that I managed to drag it out from Thursday to Monday evening was in itself amazing, and allowed for drinks, dinner and drinks, dancing, brunch, more dancing and a post-Berghain afterparty that lasted for about twenty hours (no, really). High points, in vaguely chronological order:

Getting AMAZING gifts such as a ticket to the National in May, a My Little Pony and my own personalised, rewritten version of the Very Hungry Caterpillar.

Dinner at the new, bigger Maria Bonita (it's not called that, it's called Maria Something but I can't for the life of me remember what. Skalitzer Strasse 81, at any rate). Loads of amazing people showed up and were lovely to me and I got to get all drunked up on margaritas and tequila.

Dancing at Kleine Reise with, I'm pretty sure, more or less everyone I know in Berlin. I particularly enjoyed dancing to this, watching my good friend draw another good friend's portrait on the toilet wall (with me explaining to all "she's a really talented artisshht"), and witnessing an impromtu harmonica solo in the bathroom. Good freakin' times.

Berghain on Sunday is probably best explained in a series of soundbites:

"I KNEW she was going to do this! I knew she was going to make this a technofest. I'm too old for techno. I don't understand it any more. Doesn't anyone still listen to Dylan?"

"What the FUCK is that?!" (looking at a very pretty floral tissue I had give her but a few hours before)

"Jesus, you know you're wasted when you look at the back of someone's head and think 'That's weird, why haven't they got any lips?'"

Our Flat on Sunday night/Monday is probably best explained with a brief summary of the main conversations that took place:

Approx. two hours on the relative merits of the Kings of Leon albums 1 through 4. Ditto Snow Patrol.

Roughly the same amount of time comparing the feminist messages of Dirty Dancing and Pretty Woman.

Some time past the point of reason on the motives, morals and techniques of Las Vegas strippers.

Recurring Theme of the Day- if your dad is a knight, but a knight on merit, how posh are you?

So yes, an awesome birthday was had. Thanks to all involved, you are amazing.

SICK.

2010-02-04T12:32:00.000-08:00

I've been sick all week. It's been exciting and also gross. I've just been festering away in a pit of my own snotty tissues and those sticky wee caps from medicine bottles that you can never be bothered to rinse. I am have the sexiest cough this side of emphesyma and today I had to force myself to take a shower for the first time in days. I have been consuming Vitamin C by the truckload, ditto paracetemol, Haribo and Ritter Sport. Ugh, ugh and damn. On the plus side it does seem I am over the hump and hopefully normal working service will be restored tomorrow. Not least as I really need the money. Us freelancers can't just malinger endlessly, you know. no work, no pay and so on and so forth.

On the plus side, when one is sick one can indulge in certain behaviour that would otherwise be deemed "slackerish", "sluttish" or just plain "unseemly". This is fun, as any slacker, slut or general layabout will tell you. If only I had the balls to just all out join their ranks. But no, it's stupid social conformity for me. At least for the time being...But yes, stuff one can do when one is sick that one otherwise cannot:

1) Not get dressed all day. One can wear amazing outfits at will. Like the all-black-leggings-and-thermal-vest-ninja-suit I am currently rocking. I can also heartily recommend the cashmere jumper'n'tights look. But the KEY thing here, ladies and gentlemen, is that as an invalid, when you should need to leave the house (for provisions like Ritter Sport and DVDs), you can simply put on your coat and cardigan and NOTHING ELSE to go to the shops. You're sick, it's totally acceptable. What kind of society judges the ill? Exactly.

2) Watch amazingly soppy films like "My Sister's Keeper" and bawl your face off the whole way through (seriously, it will BREAK YOUR HEART) and blame the resulting swollen face and depressed demeanour on your illness rather than your succumbing to Hollywood tug tug tugging on your heartstrings in the most predictable of manners.

3) Listen endlessly to terrible, amazing mid-nineties American "alt" rock. Oh the joys. And, again, illness = NO JUDGEMENT.

So yes. Being sick does, to an extent, suck. But all clouds have their silver linings and what have you, and I've got Night Nurse for later. Hurrah!

You know what sucks?

2010-01-25T11:55:00.001-08:00

Winter. I am so sick of the fucking weather. It's so bloody cold. It takes you about a million years to get dressed because leaving the house without at least seven layers is unthinkable. Today it felt like I was wearing, give or take, everything I own. I could barely bend my elbows or knees. I was wearing longjohns, for the love of God, which means, of course, that I will probably never get any attention from the opposite sex again. Though, to be fair, it takes so much energy just to get undressed these days I'd probably have lost any desire to do anything but lie there and go "gee, it was cold today" by the time I got down to the nitty gritty/longjohns anyway. Le sigh.

Less drama, more dance routines.

2010-01-24T03:31:00.000-08:00

Yup. It needs to happen. Less time spent endlessly analysing one's life over and over again until it all seems meaningless (like when you say your name out loud over and over) and more time spent choreographing. Thanks to Mark who, however briefly, went along with the impromtu routine I started about 3 a.m on Saturday morning. Note to self, simply screaming "MAAARK!!! DAAAAANCE ROUTIIIINE!!! NOOOOOW!!!" and sort of repeatingly bashing him with your shoulder so that he roughly follows the direction of the moves you're doing is not exactly "being a choreographer".

Speaking of Friday night though, it was freaking awesome. We all (literally, ALL. Was there anyone I know that wasn't there? And if so, why the hell weren't you?) went to Kleine Reise, which is fast becoming one of my favourite places in Berlin. It's a really good size, has speakers in the toilets and is run by some really nice boys. Plus, pretty much everyone there is Irish which means PEOPLE TALK TO YOU IN THE QUEUE FOR THE TOILETS/CLOAKROOM/BAR and YOU CAN GET AS DRUNK AS YOU DAMN WELL PLEASE. Victory in our time.

Another awesome piece of news was told to me on Friday night by a lovely Texan (at least I think she was Texan. God love her, I think I was incoherently rambling on and on at her for hours. Thank you, whoever you were, for not punching me right in the face. I would have done.) and that is that another Mexican place is opening on Skalitzer Strasse 81 (or has opened. Details hazy...). Better still, it's an extension of Maria Bonita which I have previously ranted and raved about. Oh I am going to go there soon and eat lots of things and drink beer and be HAPPY.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go eat some waffles in Kauf Dich Gluecklich. Happy Sunday!

BYE BYE BERLIN (well, for two weeks)!!!

2009-12-19T10:43:00.000-08:00

And hello Armagh. City of angels and dreams. Well, not quite, far from it. Everything is sort of strange and dull and every new building that has popped up in my absence seems to have been designed along the lines of very large, very imposing public toilets. But, but, but it is the city of home-cooked meals and tins full of homemade mince pies. Good freakin' times. I swear to God I am going to do nothing but eat for the next two weeks. And watch crappy T.V. and annoy my family. Yay yay yay.

But, to be fair, it was hard to leave old B-lizzle this morning, snowy and sunny and BRILLIANT as she was. She? He? I can't think of what sex I think of Berlin as. And I can hardly say "it". The B-town is so much more than an "it". Oh, I don't know. But I shall miss being there, even if I am just gone for two weeks. I am very much in love with my city at the moment. Smile, sigh, cosy warm feeling.

OH TANNENBAUM!!!

2009-12-13T13:22:00.000-08:00

Wowee, but do I love Christmas. We just put our tree up and he (namely, Chubby. Last year's was Fatty) looks awesome. Terribly tacky and garish but in the best possible way. We had a great time putting him up, with one of us wedged under the tree wedging newspapers into a pot, with poor Chubby wedged into the bottom half of a tonic bottle. Decorating him was even more fun, helped along by the Flatmate's "Now that's what I call Christmas" album.

We are now having "medicinal" hot toddies and watching Arrested Development. Good times.

On being THAT girl...

2009-12-12T10:08:00.000-08:00

Oh god. Office party. Have never been to one before, due to never having a proper job etc etc, may never be able to go to one again. So many bad decisions it's hard to know where to begin. So I don't think I will. Suffice to say that neither it, nor I, were pretty. Certainly not towards the end of the night. Good Lord.

But yes, onwards and upwards, Leute. I am trying to acheive good things this weekend, in an attempt to balance out the baaaad karma that I totally deserve after Thursday night's performance. I did a lot of knitting today. My scarf is about three and a half inches long which is pretty good seeing as I made it so freakin' wide and with freakin' fine wool. This pleases me. In about a year's time I will be able to wear it and I shall do so with much pride.

I have also been reaccquainting myself with Buffy, of late. Namely seasons 2 and 3. Man alive, is that a good show. Comedy, drama, romance, amazing nineties fashion and VAMPIRE SLAYING. Literally, what more could you want? Exactly. We've also been looking at a lot of first season Sex and the City which is hilarious as they all look so alarming. I have now developped a fear that I am going to end up like Carrie in a few years, running around town in the same old odd and vaguely slutty attire calling it "fashionable" and "individual" when really it is just odd and (not even that) vaguely slutty. Think I might need to start paying heed when my mother talks about me getting some "proper clothes". Though I will draw the goddamn line at a trouser suit. Her and my grandmother have been trying to get me into a trouser suit for years and I just refuse, refuse, refuse. There is nothing more hellish and sad as a trouser suit. Though, to be fair, what do I know? At the age of twenty three I've decided to "go grunge" and can often be seen around town in skintight purple velvet and biker boots. Is that acceptable? I just don't know anymore.

ACHTUNG IT'S ADVENT!!!

2009-12-05T03:10:00.000-08:00

Which is awesome for many reasons. The first is that you can drink things like Gluehwein and Apfelpunsch like all of the damned time and noone can judge you or they are a soulless heathen with no sense of what is good in this world. This also goes for the consumption of chocolate, Lebkuchen and mince pies. Oh God, I wish I could get my hands on some mince pies right now. They really are my festive treat of choice.

Other things about Advent in Berlin that make me happy, in list form because a) am as lazy as the day is long and b) I have to go soon to the...

CHIRSTMAS MARKET. Love them, love them, love them. And anyone who says anything bad about them ("ooooh, they're so touristy and tacky") is a fool and deserves a bag of coal and a punch in the face. You get to wander round looking at Christmassy things whilst listening to Christmassy songs and eating and drinking Christmassy things. And everyone is nice and happy and smiley because IT'S CHRISTMAS.

That my BVG ticket was cheaper this month as a Christmas present from them, and the fact that any Saturday or Sunday in advent a 2.10€ ticket counts a day pass. How nice is that?! I love BVG. Even if they did fuck up a little, S Bahn-wise, this year. But, come one, the BVG on a very, very bad day still kicks Dublin Bus' dirty, unreliable, overpriced arse all over the shop.

That I get to teach Christmas to the kiddies for two whole weeks. This involves a lot of glitter, snowmen treasure hunts and CHOCOLATE. Awesome.

Got to go, tat to buy, hot things to drink and so on and so forth.

Heavens!

2009-11-27T12:08:00.001-08:00

Haven't blogged in a while.I can't imagine this affecting anyone other than myself, really (though, hello eight readers! Very heartening, thank you.) but still.

Things that have been distracting me from blogging:

Awesome Casella's visit. Wowee, how much fun was had? Too much. I miss you ladee, come back to us soooooon.

Reading Nora Roberts. Again. I know, I know, it's sick and wrong. I have a BA in Literature for fuck's sake. But can I stop, no I bloody well can't. The one I finished last night finished with a cougar killing a criminal to save the woman he loved. A cougar, a big mountain cat thing. there was alot about cougars and such, since the leading "strong woman" (so the blurb tells us) is a leader in her field of big cat preservation. All while managing to be beautiful and sexy and slim and ever so slightly vulnerable (even if she won't admit this vulnerabilty, even to herself). But it's okay, she ultimately lets herself admit her vulnerabilty, and succumbs to the love and protection of some man. I mean, it's angering me so much to even vaguely outline the plots of these things (the last one I read had exactly the same plot but instead of wildlife reserves the woman was really great at refurbishing houses. Seriously.) but I cannot put them down. It's like really awful, patronising, cliched heroin.

Cleaning the flat. Not something we often do, but yesterday it became a matter of neccessity after the flatmate and I discovered that the leak coming from under the sink was in fact soy sauce.

Adjusting to the new Butter Cutting Regime that the flatmate has me under. Apparently I cut at the paper too much and that creates some kind of trouble for her. But I have been shown the Error of my Ways and am Truly Sorry.

But, wahey, it's the weekend again. So if you'll excuse me I have to go get gussied up (as my grandfather would say), or at the least amake an attempt and femininity.

Soooo, I was in London last weekend.

2009-11-17T14:40:00.001-08:00

And spent the whole damned time missing Berlin. Well, nearly the whole time. Any time I had a sausage roll or a Rich Tea biscuit in my mouth I was pretty much the U.K.'s biggest fan, but you know what I mean. Yeah, 'tis good to be back. Berlin is very definitely home now, which is a good thing as I live here and it's always awkward feeling out of place the whole time.

And Berlin is being particularly AWESOME to me these days. First of all I have a Besuch, Sara, who has come all the way from NEW YORK CITY to see us and our city. So exciting. We are showing her all the sights. Like the inside of various bars and Das Perfekte Dinner. She is Loving It.

Secondly, I went ice-skating last night and it was freakin' cool. (No pun intended. Seriously, that would be an awful pun, and I take my puns seriously. You're talking to the woman who recently made an AMAZING pun involving knitting magazines which referenced the Smiths.) We all went and had fun times and gluehwein. Lots of gluehwein. Seriously, the state of us. Literally on the ice for about fifteen minutes before we established a gluehwein station, whereby one person would wait off the ice with a cup of wein and proffer it as each person glided past*. Like the water station at a marathon**. Good times.

* For "glided past", in my case at least, read "shuffled by in an awkward and terrified manner".

** Well, nothing like, really. I mean it wasn't water, it was wine and, exciting as it was, 50 minutes ice skating ain't no marathon. But still.

TWENTY YEARS!!!!

2009-11-09T15:20:00.000-08:00

So it's been twenty years since the auld wall came down. Big day. Here's how I chose to mark the historic occaison:

Woke up feeling awful. Have slept little since, oh god, maybe Wednesday night. Staggered to work, which was quite a feat. Managed it though, with only a hint of possible vomit action around Koepenick, when I contemplated leaping off the train for a quick tactical puke. Didn't though, which was probably a good thing.

Lamented repeatedly the loss of my iPod, circa 4.30 a.m. Friday night. My own, stupid, irresponsible fault. But still.

Failed to prevent a four-year-old destroying a pot plant. Soil, plant and general embarrassment all round.

Listened to some world leaders address Berlin on ye old BBC World. Got all emotional, and also slightly perturbed by the fact that I now seem to count myself as one of "the people of Berlin".

Managed to miss the flash mob thing I had planned on doing. Went to pub instead. Good times.

(More) Uncomfortable Confessions.

2009-11-03T04:31:00.000-08:00

At the risk of this blog becoming little more than a weirdly candid series of posts detailing my eventual and inevitable total failure to be a proper human being there are some things that have been perturbing me of late.

I am getting more and more drawn into the world of Nora Roberts, romance novellist extraordinaire. It's not even trashy (read graphic) romance either. It's like proper "her pleasure drove her to the peak of the mountain and down over the other side into the valley of dreams as he ravished her"-type romance. But goddamnit, she spins a damned good yarn. Better, I suppose, than the weird vampire romance/porn/sci-fi/street-fighting "novel" I was so entranced with this time last year.

Last night the lovely ladies that I teach English to were joking that I needed to find a nice boyfriend and then I'd stay in Berlin. And what did I reply to these lovely women who PAY for me, as a PROFESSIONAL, to TEACH them stuff? "I like boys who are in rock and roll bands". Good one, Super Teacher.

I had a sex dream about Kerry Katona last night. I really don't think this one needs much explanation. That and I really, really don't want to talk about it.

KNITTING!

2009-10-25T09:01:00.000-07:00

So on Friday lovely Camilla taught me to knit. First we went to the most amazing wool shop way out West. The U-Bahn stop was Guentzelstrasse, other than that I have little idea where exactly it was. But good golly, it was amazing. A lovely room with really high ceilings all full of lovely, lovely wool. So much lovely wool. And I was really quite over hung, it was so soothing. It took all my self restraint not to climb into their display wagon thing and go to sleep. Almost as soothing as that room with all the model ships in the Technik Museum. But yes, anyway, lovely Camilla sorted me out with wool and needles and then we went and sat in a cafe in F'hain and she taught me to cast on and knit. It was super exciting. Unfortunately I have decided what I want is a really big scarf made from really fine wool so it's going to take me until next Christmas to actually finish it, but still. It's very fun and satisfying, even though I have only knitted about a centimetre. But mark my words, in eighteen months or so I am going to have one freakin' cool scarf.

Other things that have made me happy this weekend:

Discovering (again thanks to Lovely Camilla, who is all kinds of awesome) Nil on Gruenberger Strasse which does these amazing chicken kebab things with peanut sauce. Heavens above.

Having a McDonalds. Yup, it was great and I don't regret eating it one bit. Sometimes (by which I mean those times you've been sicking up last night's fucking Corona ALL DAY) only McDonalds will do.

Getting an hour's extra kip last night, I don't know about you but I really, really needed that.

And, and, AND tonight I'm goingto White Trash for lots of yummy food and giggage.

Great weekend!!!

Rosie, Queen of Corona...

2009-10-24T13:45:00.000-07:00

...I am certainly not.

So last night we all went to to Tacheles to see our friends play and deejay. Fun times were had all round, fun times and a fuckton of Corona. Dear Lord, how is it legal to make a beer that tastes just like juice? It's hardly normal. Or advisable. But when do I ever stick to what's normal or advisable? Gods, but I wish I would. I was So Sick today. Horribly, horribly so. The whole world now has permission to punch me in the face if they ever see me drinking beer at a rate of more than one an hour. Right in the face, I mean it.

And what do I have to go and do now? Yes, that's it, DRINK. Good God.

Money for nothing and chicks for free...

2009-10-20T11:52:00.000-07:00

Ah, Brett Michaels and your Rock of Love, I salute you. The amusement I derive from watching the THIRD season of this genius programme more than compensates for the twinges of pain watching 12 women forced to "compete" for the "affection" of a "man" causes my feminist sensibilities. Not least as the third seasontakes place ON TOUR. There are two buses! One pink (for the slutty ones) and one blue (for the non-slutty ones). As far as I can ascertain, there is no difference between the sluts and the non-sluts. And oh boy oh boy are these gals crazy. One of them, "Ashley", has a naked picture of herself tatooed on her arm. HERSELF. NAKED. ON HER OWN ARM. They get drunk all of the time. And howl abuse at eachother and wear nothing but underwear. It is terrifying but also electrifying. What will they do next?

WEEKENDWEEKENDWEEKEND!

2009-10-17T10:25:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's the weekend. Almost halfway through, in fact. Hence the hangover and the fact that I've been wearing the same Klamotten for more than twenty-four hours. I was taken to a new bar (new to me) last night. I liked it a lot. It was cheap (3.50 cocktails, G and T for 2.80) and friendly. I mean, the bar staff were appallingly slow (when oh when are they ever not in this town?) but nice with it. So yeah, Kaptain Mueller's on Simon-Dach, I salute you.

Tonight it is the turn of the Oscar Wilde's and Villa to be graced with my sometimes lovely and always entertaining (at least that's what I tell myself) presence. I can't remember why exactly we're going to the Oscar's but I'm sure it'll be a blast. It smells of home. Well, if home was a dirty, dark and frankly unhygenic toilet, but you know what I mean. Villa should also be pumpin', the Flatmate informs me. I only hope I can stay awake long enough to get there, I'm freakin' exhausted.

Must dash. Body to shower, stomach to line etc etc.

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts.

2009-10-15T11:42:00.000-07:00

Good Lord, it is what can only be described as mothafuckin' freezing outside. I mean, I know it's not and things are only (contrary to what East 17/Labour back in its Tony-is-awesome days would have you believe) going to get much worse but STILL. However, the sudden cold snap does have its upsides.

And there is no side more up than GLUEHWEIN's side. Oh yes, mulled wine season is back, kiddies, back with a vengeance. Seriously, I can't remember drinking anything else from October to March last winter. Why the hell would you? Yummy. Fun to make, fun to heat up out of a carton, fun to share, fun to drink a whole fucking saucepan alone. Perfect accompaniment to cake, stew, spag bol, film nights, Christmas markets, nights in, nights out, Wednesdays, Mondays, dinners, lunchtimes, possibly breakfast, definitely brunch. You get the picture.

I have yet to have any yet but mark my words I shall. In fact I may just organise some kind of ceremonial gluehwein party on Saturday to officially mark the start of the season. Invitations are in the post, bring cake and joy.

Confessions of a Dangerous Mind.

2009-10-12T13:53:00.000-07:00

So, in my first post in approximately eight years I have a few things to admit.

1) My obsession with Katy Perry's 'Waking up in Vegas' has been replaced by an overwhelming LOVE for the Black Eyed Peas 'I've Got A Feeling'. No, really. The 'Peas. I really have no justification. THE BLACK EYED PEAS, FFS. One of the lines in the song just contains the word 'mozoltov', inexplicably shouted. A word I had to Google to spell, which upset me even further as the first Google result is 'What does the word 'mozoltov' mean? I heard it in that Black Eyed Peas song'. Crikey, what have I become?

2) I have got worryingly involved in the latest MTV 'reality' show thingy, 'Scream Queens', where a bunch of hired maniacs compete for a 'starring' role in Saw VI. I haven't the strength to go in to this any further at this juncture.

3) On Saturday night I literally slept on a doormat. Albeit within an apartment building, but still. Three things you should remember to do when leaving a flat at four in the morning to go on a (frankly unnecessary) wine run 1) BRING YOUR FUCKING KEYS 2) bring enough cash to actually BUY the wine so you don't have to beg for money outside the spaeti (thank you lovely man who gave us two euros) and 3) don't live with people who SLEEP LIKE THE FREAKING DEAD. So yes, four a.m we leave the flat, nine forty-five a.m we re-enter it. I've had more fun.

4) There are six full bin bags on our balcony. SIX. I may well be the most disgusting person I know and I know someone who once used Cillit Bang as antiseptic.

Easy steps to banish the mean reds.

2009-09-12T12:48:00.000-07:00

1) Listen to your favourite song from when you were 17. On repeat. All evening. It may be angsty but must be up-tempo. Give no thought to how uncool it now seems. Back when you were seventeen this song was the shit and you knew it. The zeitgeist is for idiots.

2) Dance to the aforementioned with joy and abandon all over your living room. If you get tired you may switch to a slower song (again, only if you listened to it as a teenager) but you should continue to gesticulate emotively along. If the ballad in question is of the middle-of-the-road-American-altrock genre then all the better. Something about losing a woman, or a horse, or a bet, or sanity is ideal.

3) Look out your window and notice that there's an amazing fireworks display going that seems to have been put on just for the betterment of your mood. If the world fails to comply with this imagine one. Or stage your own. Buy some sparklers. Set a cushion on fire. Set yourself on fire. Whatever it takes, honey.

4) Have some cake. I'm not talking comfort eating a whole fucking Kaesekuchen here, just to be clear, about a quarter should suffice.

5) Remember that you live in a world with the following: cake, tea, plain chocolate digestives, Dolly Parton, Barack Obama, blueberry pie, white russians, Margaret Atwood novels, Shakespeare, Ryan Gosling, your friends, your family, your pets, Ikea (particularly the meatball section of Ikea), the National, the Guardian, William Faulkner, Katy Perry (feel free to skip La Perry if she don't do for you what she does for me) and countless other amazing things and people and ENTITIES.

There now, don't you feel better. I do.

SMILE, BERLINERS, YOU'RE IN A SOCIAL SITUATION!

2009-09-10T02:07:00.000-07:00

I was in Club de Visionaer last night and to look around at the collected facial expressions in the queue for the loo you'd have thought we were waiting to be ritually excuted with a blunt spoon. Heavens above the sheer, unaldulterated misery on these girls faces. Now, to be fair, there could have been some mitigating circumstances that had them all standing their looking like bulldogs licking piss off a nettle. Maybe they just collectively found out that their collective boyfriends are gay, or cheating on them with that horrible bitch Scarlett Johannson plays in that weird film, or massive Red Hot Chili Peppers fans. But more than likely this was just another Wednesday night of drinking with their mates on a lovely Indian summer's evening that they had to toil through. Seriously, the looks of them when they used to come into the bar I worked in on a Saturday night. It would take all my waitressy charm and perk just get a smile out of them, and they were the ones out for the night rather than mopping up Guiness and piss for 6 euro an hour. I ask you.

But the thing is, see, that they are not just horrible grumpy people who don't want to have fun. A few pints and a lot more waitressing perk and they're all smiles and "Oh ja, these Irish pubs macht so much Spass" (incidentally this one didn't, at all, which just proves my point). It's just that they don't seem to be comfortable being fun with total strangers, which I can understand but not condone, seeing as one of the greatest joys in life is connecting with a random individual on a personal level, if only for a fleeting moment. Think about it, that warm fuzzy glow you get when you share a dear-lord-aren't-we-hilarious-and-sure-we-don't-even-know-each-other-madness-total-madness! joke with a total stranger comes about because, if only for the length of time it takes to discuss the state of the loo/queue at the bar/hideousness of the RHCP, you realise that the rest of humanity is not, in fact, made up of horrible shitheads out to ruin your day by being cooler and thinner than you but is choc full of awesome, hilarious people who essentially just want to have a good time.

So, come on Berlin. You can do it. Trust me, you'll enjoy it. I swear I've seen a flicker on amusement and pleasure behind the bemused half-smile you throw me when I insist on making eye contact and smiling when you come out of the bathroom stall. I double dare you to ask if I've any lipgloss on me, if all men are cheating bastards, or just dive straight in there with "Jesus, how awful are the Chili Peppers?". You'll enjoy it, I promise. I'm a scream.

VICTORY IN OUR TIME!

2009-09-05T04:31:00.000-07:00

MY IPOD IS WORKING!!! HURRAY FOR GLORIOUS WATERPROOF (APPARENTLY) APPLE PRODUCTS. Oh joy, joy, joy.

Other things that are RWTW (Right With The World):

1) It is a Saturday and I am not hungover. I feel glorious and also so smug I could just do a smug dance. Maybe I'll go the whole hog and start doing yoga and give up caffeine and say things like "God, to think I used to just poison my body with that stuff! I mean, I might well have just been shooting heroin for all the tea and coffee and meat I was ingesting! Ugh, I don't know how I could live with myself!"...I mean, it's unlikely, especially when you consider my addiction to all of the above plus doener kebabs and overly processed "American style" chocolate chip cookies, but maybe, just maybe.

2) Florence and the Machine are playing Berlin in October. I love her. After Katy Perry she is my number one Inappropriate Crush. Inappropriate only in that she is a lady and I am not a lesbian. As opposed to La Perry who is inappropriate in pretty much every way going. But can I help myself? No, no I cannot. The course of true love never did run smooth.

3) The new Mexican imbiss on Danziger Strasse. Yum, yum, yum, yum. A little upset that it's name appears to actually be Maria Bonita rather than TACO! (I don't know where I got that from) but still. I think it's also run by go-getting young folks who used to cook in White Trash before setting up on their own. I am a fan of go-getting young folks, and the burritos are goooood.

4) I am about to have some tea and cake now.

Loser.

2009-09-05T03:37:00.000-07:00

n. One who loses things. See also Fuckingeejit, Megan.

So, Wednesday night. Club der Visionaer. Sitting on the dock (of the bay, cue obligatory rendition by all present) having a beer and the craic. Lovely night, last of the summer etc etc and what do I bloody well go and do? Manage to knock my whole bag (open end down) into the gap between the docks. Everything into the Spree, EVERYTHING. IPod, camera, phone, wallet (with all my cards, plus my newly acquired bus / train monthly ticket), EVERYTHING. The phone and the iPod were recovered (though not in working order, natch) but the wallet and the camera SANK LIKE FUCKING STONES, never to be recovered.

And the worst thing? Everytime I tell this story people start laughing.

So this is it, my friends, I am officially Off The Drink and On The Wagon. Well, for two weeks. Just to see how it goes, like. Wouldn't want to torture myself too much etc etc.

The Art of Being Back in Berlin.

2009-08-31T03:16:00.000-07:00

For the authentic Back in Berlin experience it is necessary (apparently, to my somewhat addled mind) to complete at least some of the following steps.

1) Have night out that you can only remember about 17% of.

2) Spend day in bed vomiting (this step is more or less directly linked to step 1).

3) Resume marvelling at just how wired one can get off of a Club Mate.

4) "Lose" close friend for a good 36 hours (and counting). Seriously, where is she? I texted her last night to assertain whether she was still alive and got the prompt, but not terribly reassuring response "Just about. See you in the morro.xx"

5) Go to Sachsenhausen, spend rest of Sunday afternoon pondering the pointlessness of human existance.

6) Watch Goodbye Lenin and have faith in German / human race restored. Also get really excited when you recognise bits of Berlin. Also get quite excited, but in a different way, everytime the camera does a close up of Daniel Bruehl's lovely face looking lovely.

7) Continue to nurture unhealthy obsession with Katy Perry. Though to be fair, this isn't exactly linked to Berlin. Just to me. Somewhat upsettingly.

Ah Berlin.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!

2009-07-27T09:40:00.000-07:00

So I started off writing a long ranting post about how annoyed I am with Germany at the moment and how difficult and unbending I am finding my German employers and how I was going to make some innocent S Bahn passenger a scapegoat for the entire German populace and just PUNCH THEM IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD and so on and so forth but then I started boring myself and realised I sounded like one of those nightmarish people on English language expat community websites that just moan on and on about how everything was better under the Empire and so I stopped. Stopped using punctuation as well, apparently, but that is besides the point.

So yes, today was a little hot and sweaty and the kids are sick of the sight of me and my employers informed me there was no way I could get paid a little early so I am going to be heading to Canada with approximately no money at all but all is not lost and hideous.

A LIST OF GOOD THINGS.

1) I am going to Canada in SIX SLEEPS' TIME.

2) I went (Lena's Jahreskarte in hand) to pay my 7e for not having a ticket on the tram the other day and the woman behind the glass screen of power WAIVED THE RULES FOR ME and so even though I didn't have exactly the right paper work I just paid my dues, shared a conspiratoral wink and headed off. I love her, she is my BVG idol.

3) I am going to make cupcakes in a bit. Lemon flavoured.

4) HAVE JUST REMEMBERED THERE'S A DELICIOUS BEER IN THE FRIDGE. HUZZAH.

5) I am going to Canada in SIX SLEEPS' TIME.

What the holy hell is up with the weather?

2009-07-24T05:23:00.001-07:00

Seriously, though. It's fucking disgusting out there. Today started out alright, I even put on a summery dress and flip flops. Now flip flops are not really an item of footwear I like to be associated with unless I am actually on the beach but I don't currently have any viable alternative in the flat, summery pump/more eleganter sandal department (and God knows, I can't afford to buy any) but thank God I did don them for they are made of rubber and by 12 noon THE STREETS WERE AWASH. Seriously, I have just discovered I have watermarks on my heels. And gravel and OTHER DETRITUS.

This is a grave, grave state of affairs. One of the first phrases I learnt when I moved here was "Ich freue mich auf den Sommer", anticipating many long afternoons supping Augustiner in the Volkspark chatting to my elegant Deutsch friends about barbeque techinques and Marxism. But no, what am I doing instead? Trudging through enormous puddles and having epic and awkward battles with my umbrella on the tram.

Now, you'd think that being Irish and all I would be some kind of umbrella ninja/Zen master but you see having lived in Dublin for some years I am out of practise. This is because rain rarely shows his face in Dublin without his good pal wind (who is a total, total cunt) who enjoys blowing rain (this analogy is getting decidely out of hand, sorry) into one's face at an angle of 90 degrees so an umbrella is pointless and stupid and trying to carry one just makes you look like a dick as either you have to hold it vertically in front of your face or it blows inside out. So umbrellas and I are not on the best of terms. Particularly this new umbrella (which, to be fair, I got for free as apparently "if you have a penis you can't have an umbrella" and therefore must give them away to ladies) I find myself in the company of. First of all its got one of those buttons which makes it open itself at alarming speed, with little to no heed paid to those standing immediately in front. Except that this one doesn't open fully but rather charges forth only to adopt a sort of wilted posture. What I am currently carrying around town is the umbrella embodiment of premature ejaculation, if you will. But will the damn thing then close in a humble or appropriately shamefaced manner? Hells no, you have to wrestle with the damn thing, pushing its end into the wall of the tram and sliding all over the damned wet, slippy floor in the process, to the amusement of many a German who, naturally, all have normal, well-behaved umbrellas.

If you'll excuse me I have to go out now, and God knows how long it'll take me to get him into my bag.

I am feeling kitschy.

2009-07-22T01:53:00.000-07:00

All I want to do is listen to happy, sunny, quirky music like this:

and wear florals. Today is defintely a tea dress day. I want to eat cupcakes too. Maybe I should make some. I still haven't got the hang of baking here because a) they don't have self raising flour and baking soda and powder confuses me and b) I am goddawfully lazy. But maybe today is the day.

Signs that the heat might be getting to us:

2009-07-17T02:49:00.000-07:00

I have been having very fevered dreams of late. Involving canoes and chips and being guilty of murder but noone knowing and wondering if I should just keep quiet or maybe just tell my mum.

I cannot contemplate getting on the S Bahn any more.

On the floor this morning I found just the lower legs of a pair of jeans, presumably the Flatmate decided she just couldn't take any more of jeans' shit and wanted to go with shorts instead.

I have been having loud conversations with the weather for ages now. A minute ago I looked up from Facecrack just long enough to hurl a "stop winding you bastard" over my left shoulder. Hardly polite, or grammatically correct.

It's not even that warm today. Crikey.

So I want a drink...

2009-07-16T12:05:00.001-07:00

...and there is sweet Fanny Adams in the flat. Actually, that is a lie. There are several delicious beverages in the flat. Such as the "wine based Caprihina flavoured" monstrosity that Lena insisted on buying on her birthday (I was pushing the trolley around Lidl so had no hands free to wrestle it back onto the shelves, the reason I was pushing the trolley was because I was too hungover to stand up unaided). I would give it a taste but the last time I did I got oddly drawn into its revolting, neon green clutches and only stopped drinking it because Sara arrived and I was too embarassed to to it in front of someone.

The second option is a bottle of white that's been in there for yonks. The reason it's been in there for yonks may or may not be related to the fact that I cannot drink white wine any more. This may or may not be related to Christmas Day 2007.

There is a third of a bottle of red left, its name is "Ciao!" (as opposed to "Bon Soir!", which is the first cooking wine Lena and I got properly into. Many bon soirs were had, let me tell you) and the obligatory bit of Tafel wein in a box but for some reason neither of them are appealing much.

There is a bottle of tequila (well, some) on the door of the fridge, but I cannot drink tequila as my first drink of the evening. Maybe if I was in Mexico and it was proper tequila but hells no to a bottle that comes with a shiny plastic sombrero that Lena insists is for drinking out of. It is not, and will only make you spill it out of the corners of your mouth and down your top and make you look like a total maniac.

There is also a quarter of a bottle of Club Mate which might have vodka in it. I can't imagine why any one would have saved just a quarter bottle of Club Mate.

Have just tasted it and someone did indeed just save a quarter bottle of Club Mate. Dear God. Have poured myself a glass of Ciao! to help me get over the shock.

So I watched Steel Magnolias again last night...

2009-07-06T12:29:00.000-07:00

...which is probably something I should stop doing in front of people as I just Over Emote to the point of ridiculousness, but ANYWAY, it's amazing. It makes me want even more than normal to up sticks to the rebel states, find a veranda and get working on some mint juleps. For reasons best known to myself (though I have a sneaky suspicion it has something to do with reading Gone With The Wind at an impressionable age) I have a borderline obsessive interest in the Southern states, and its women in particular. They're just so feisty. The fact that I live in the same world as Dolly Parton genuinely enriches my life every single day.

LOOK AT THIS. Her hair is at least 10 inches high, ffs! This video makes me sad I am no longer peroxide blonde (no mean feat, I looked like a transvestite. And not in a good way).

Holy Ovary.

2009-07-01T08:18:00.000-07:00

Now I am never usually one to cry PMT, but the past twenty-four hours has been utter, hormone induced hell. I have, to date:

Spoiled an otherwise lovely afternoon in very good company by getting "freaked out" by the way the conversation was heading. It was, of course, a totally normal conversation, but no matter, I went stonily silent. Naturally I kept saying "it's fine, nothing wrong here, I'm totallyfinethankyouveryfuckingmuch".

Purchased and ingested an inordinant amount of chocolate and Pom Bears, the remants of which I am consuming stale.

Nearly cried as I passed a man in a wheelchair because he was "so thin".

Told a member of the opposite sex to "for God's sake grow up". I'm sure he would have had he not been SEVEN.

Almost fainted in a Schlecker and a lift and a photocopy shop. And I am not a fainter.

Almost killed about six people on the S Bahn because they KEPT FUCKING TOUCHING MY HANDS OR MY BAG.

It's enough to make you wish you were a man. If they weren't all so bloody USELESS.

So the weekend

2009-06-17T10:51:00.000-07:00

was awesome and all but the emotional fall-out from all the drinking and non-sleeping and general CAROUSING was on a truly terrifying scale. You know that feeling when you just know for absolute certain that NOTHING WILL EVER BE OKAY EVER AGAIN. Well yes, that times about a hundred.

But of course everything is okay again, for various reasons:

1) We are listening to Rod Stweart. Yes, Roddy ma boy, I do like your body and I think you're sexy. Your version of Ruby Tuesday, on the other hand, is fucking horrific.

2) My cousin Emily is coming tonight. And then my dad, my sister and my brother are coming on Friday. Hurrah!!

3) After days, nay weeks, of truly fucking shocking weather Berlin has finally pulled its socks up and produced some lovely sunshine. No more tramping about in your flatmate's effective but terribly unsexy raincoat in torrential rain trying to buy cotton wool before you go and teach 8 six-year-olds about "winter clothes" (this is how ridiculous my life is, yes).

4) Sunshine = White Russians. Hurrah!

Life is good again.

WEEKEND!

2009-06-12T02:30:00.001-07:00

Well, almost. Two classes left to teach but they two of my favourites. In fact, all the kids this week have been awesome. Not counting Monday's. But I rarely count Mondays. Particularly if Monday starts on two hours sleep and a hangover.

But back to this WEEKEND. Tonight has turned into one of those nights where there's just not enough time to go to everything you want to. I am being forced to choose between a birthday party, another potentially brilliant night at the top of a film studio (at least I think that's what it is) near Sonnenallee, a 90s party in Xberg featuring LIVE HAIRCUTS by Becky and the Exberliner relaunch party. And it's not even properly the evening time yet, so God knows what more revelry will be added to this plethora. I feel vaguely hungover just thinking about it. Jesus, talking about hangovers, last Saturday was possibly a Top Five Of All Time. Not pretty, not pretty at all. Couldn't even look at my Potato Smiles until about 9pm.

As for tomorrow, tomorrow promises to be an event of biblical proportions (referring to its potential to wreak havoc, not any religious affiliations. Unless you count gin as a form of religion, which I probably do). Not only is it WORLD GIN DAY but it is LENA'S BIRTHDAY PARTY. Ich freue mich.

All this raises of course the question of what the devil to wear? Luckily, I was handsomely kitted out last Friday at the lovely Bea's swap shop evening (my first ever, and man, it was SO MUCH FUN) so my options are considerably expanded. Which is a damn good thing indeed as the looks I am sporting most frequently are two of my least favourite, namely Primary School Teacher and Colourblind Transsexual. Particularly tragic when really what I want to look like is this, ALL OF THIS:

Things that depressed me today:

2009-06-04T10:20:00.000-07:00

Doing lots of lovely shopping, including buying ingredients to try to replicate haircutting, cakebringing Becky's brownies of joy, only to have my card refused at the desk. Depressing and also sehr sehr peinlich.

Reading my online bank statement.

Being berated (even worse as she was smiling and gushing throughout, but a berating it was) by one of the kids I teach's mother for "always talking too loudly in the class". Show me someone who can keep a group of crazed six year olds occupied for an hour in a small room full of toys that they're not supposed to play with whilst trying to interest them in learning English without raising their voice occaisionally and I will show you someone who uses valium as a teaching aid.

I think this is actually all there was. I feel much better now. Catharsis and all that jazz, I guess. Huzzah.

I have a lot of errands to run today.

2009-06-03T02:54:00.000-07:00

And none that I'm particularly looking forward to. Apart from two: picking up a parcel that the lovely Sarah (my teaching-the-world-to-sing/shut-the-hell-up-for-two-bloody-seconds mentor) has sent me which I think is full of stuff to bribe kids with, and shopping for Jessie and Lena's birthday presents. Apart from these fun and possibly cake related activities (as in they require some walking, and therefore SUSTENANCE. Nothing so sustenancing as cake) I have to:

Go to my office to leave in my invoice for last month. This involves a lot of INTERFACING with GERMANS IN SUITS, not my most favourite activity ever. And pretty light on the cake front.

Send off a letter to the Student Loans Company detailing just how little money I earn and thus convincing them not to try to take it all away from me. This will involve writing a serious Dear Sir type letter which I am considering hand writing on a bit of old file paper, as I can't be arsed with/afford the printing off of a typed one. This will only help my argument I feel.

Fill out a German tax form.

Go to goddamned Spandau to teach for 45mins. I travel for FOUR TIMES THAT to get there and back. I fail to see how this is normal.

And goddammn it all to hell I have to go there NOW.

(More) (cheap) things that make me happy I am in Berlin:

2009-06-02T13:11:00.000-07:00

There is a man here who does cookie treasure hunts. He hand delivers your winnings. Unfortunately he is apparently already married, but is opening a shop soon. In the absence of free love I am prepared to pay for (cookie) love. Check it out.

Burgeramt (clever, eh?) on Boxhagener Platz. Amazing burgers and good, generous portions of properly cooked chips. For about a fiver, if even. I had the chicken burger with Erdnusssauce. Odd, but delicious. Lena went for chicken guacamole which had big strips of fresh mango in it. She said it was yummy yummy.

The fact that you meet so many awesome people here. I mean, this goes for everywhere, apart from maybe prison or the House of Commons, but it seems to be doubly true here. In the past week/end alone I met a girl who edits a photography magazine (and owns a brilliant black jumpsuit), another who cuts hair, bakes cakes AND events manages at places like Glastonbury, and yet another who has taken three months off teaching sculpture to three year olds (how, how, HOW?! Mine can barely colour in a house...) to travel around Europe. Wowee.

The fact that you can buy eight mini ciabatta rolls in a bag for like 75c. I still get excited everytime I take a warm broetchen from the oven. If anyone knows of anything better than bread straight from the oven do let me know.

I don't know what was going on here:

2009-06-02T10:16:00.000-07:00

But I liked it.

Oh Peter Andre

2009-05-31T06:56:00.000-07:00

I salute thee.

I'm pretty sure I've been busy for the past while.

2009-05-31T06:05:00.000-07:00

And that's why I haven't been blogging much of note / use. But I can't for the life of me think what it is I've actually been doing. Drinking, most likely. Drinking myself insensible and then dealing with the inevitable physical, emotional and financial fall-out. Why the hell do I do it to myself? Ugh, hangover depression just take the fucking hint, will you? Noone likes you and certainly noone wants to spend another Sunday afternoon in your shitty goddamn company.

On a (much) more positive note, Lena and I got our haircut by the gorgeous Becky yesterday. The woman is a marvel. She came (bearing the most delicious brownies- and I am fucking fussy when it comes to brownies), she cut (my hair looks normal and healthy again- yay!) and then she came dancing with us last night. She is awesome, her cakes are amazing and the aforelinked blog is great too.

On Friday night my good friend John got me on the list for a huge party at the University of Art near Zoo (there are very few things I enjoy more than being On The List) which was an amazingly OTT masquerade / costume ball thing. I wore Gold Lame (possibly my favourite dress ever) but even she was outshined. Not least by the man who chose to have his outfit better interpret the ball rather than costume element of costume ball, wearing a lot of necklaces, a mask but precious little (in fact nothing) else. Much fun was had by all. Fun and a Burger King on the way home. Yummy. My date for both the ball and BKs (though I fear the latter was probably at my insistence) was the lovely Stephanie, who has a ver ver amusing blog of her own.

Today I am, I AM I AM, going to drag my sorry ass to Kreuzberg to check out some Karneval de Kulturen action. Nothing, as I have previously said, I enjoy more than a street party. And all that's standing between between me and this one is showering, dressing, possibly putting some slap on, maybe doing the dishes, locating some clean clothes (this will not be easy) and finding some peeps that'll put down their hangovers long enough to come play with me. Easy peasy.

Things I found under our sofa today:

2009-05-29T12:58:00.001-07:00

Empty bottles.

Two pairs of shoes.

Countless odd socks.

A hair roller.

A hair clip (like, a big one).

An Irish rugby shirt.

A watering can.

Oh dear....

Things I am pondering today...

2009-05-26T13:39:00.001-07:00

If the person hanging up this laundry realised how beautifully it complemented the building and the blossom. I hope so.

The awesomeness of Obama. And women.

The awesomeness of Timm, the gay TV channel. I literally don't know what the hell I've been doing without it. A gay TV channel! They have Queer Eye, they have MILE HIGH ffs. They have a weird lesbian programme I'm now watching my second episode of. Terricle, obvs, but awful compelling.

Making the bridge..

2009-05-22T07:21:00.000-07:00

...between Bank Holiday Thursday and the Rest of the Weekend is a lot of fun I have discovered today. Pottering about, drinking coffee and eating the most delicious salad I might ever have tasted (the salate provence at Atlantic Cafe on Bergmann Strasse, in case you're wondering)- it's a hard life but someone's got to live it.

And then I went shopping. Which is a fairly fucking momentous occaison in my life at the moment. I long for the days when I would gleefully spend my student loan on shoes and frippery, when Topshop sales assistants would ask tentatively if I might not have a "bit of" a spending problem. Not any more, my friends, not any more. I more or less have to force myself, shaking and sweaty palmed, to buy even the barest of essentials. Which brings me to my next point:

WAS EVERYTHING ALWAYS SO FUCKING EXPENSIVE?!

Holy mother of God, I spent over THIRTEEN QUID on just one (small) bottle of shampoo and one of conditioner. I mean, admittedly, this was in Lush which is widely acknowledged to be stupidly, gallingly over-priced (I have to shop there though, as I think my hair might actually fall out if I subject it to any more chemicals. And the stuff does smell of SUNSHINE), but still. And don't get me started on goddamn American Apparel. A more ridiculous shop I have never encountered. Everything I picked up today was apparently "unisex" which is just fancy talk for "if you're not a ridiculously underweight hipster boy or so gripped by anorexia that puberty has passed you by PUT THIS DOWN AND GET OUT OF OUR SHOP YOU FAT OAF". I declined to purchase any of their stock.

Now if you'll excuse me I have to go try and find a way to sneak into Scala tonight as a) apparently it's sold out and b) I have spent all my monies on fucking shampoo.

I am procrastinating...

2009-05-19T11:43:00.000-07:00

...as I really don't want to clean our flat. It is pretty disgusting. Dirty dishes and unreturned Pfand as far as the eye can see. What I actually want to do is lie on the sofa and watch Arrested Development*.

In addition to cleaning/watching AD, I shall also be pondering the source of all the white fluffy stuff that's floating around Berlin of late. What the deuce is it? It was dancing around all through my carriage the S41 this evening which gave the auld Ring Bahn even more magic than usual (seriously, it's all kinds of awesome, oder? All that city grot and allotments and general brilliant Berlin-scape). And it was all over the park like a fluffy rash the other day (as shown, poorly, above). It's a mystery.

OH MY GOD, I HAVE TO GO, JUST REMEMBERED I BOUGHT THE GUARDIAN ON THE WAY HOME. A sluttish and unkempt apartment and appearance I may keep, but I shall be damned well informed.

*It is highly likely that this what I will actually do.

I blame Jessie...

2009-05-19T00:01:00.000-07:00

...but I am spending a lot of time listening to female singer songwriters these days. Usually I avoid the auld SS like the plague but how can you fail to fall in love with someone who sings lines like "If you're sleeping with someone who doesn't get you / you're going to hate yourself in the morning". And look how pretty:

Similarly, the more I listen to Laura Marling the more I think "Sweet Jesus, this girl is amazing", and she's only like seven or something.

The album is staggeringly good, if you ask me. Which I feel more people should, if only so my tendency to bang on and on about my musical opinions seems a little less rude.

Me and the girls are heading out on the town tonight...

2009-05-15T12:28:00.000-07:00

for dancing and high jinks. Most likely at Villa as they are giving out free fried chicken. Which is amazing by itself, but when you consider that the only thing about 57% (at least) of Villa's clientele ever ingest is cocaine we stand to make a fucking killing.

I hope there are some boys there I can look at. Looking only, I'm afraid, for two reasons. Firstly I am, for the millionth time, OSO (Offically Sworn Off) as I CBA (Can't Be Arsed) and secondly, boys don't talk to me in this town anyway. I'm almost beginning to hanker after the total lunatics that used to approach me in Whelan's. Almost. Luckily I am not alone in my OSO-ness. Jessica has embraced celebacy wholeheartedly in the past wee while (Me: So you're becoming a spinster at the age of 25? Her: Well, it's got a bad name but I'll tell you what, marriage sounds hellish). Anyway, who needs boys when there's dancing to be had, and you're planning on crimping your hair and listening to this a lot before you head out:

It's awesome. Makes me feels like I'm going to a teenage disco again. In a good way. When the night still held glitter (usually in my hair and on my Tammy Girl top) and promise, before the crushing disappointment of watching the boy you loved from a far kiss another girl (to be fair she probably actually had breasts) and failing to "go with" anyone oneself. Ah, youth...

I think it might just be gin o'clock...

2009-05-15T11:23:00.000-07:00

So I am going to have one. And a shower. Drinking a G and T in the shower before a night out* is one of life's simplest and best pleasures.

* Careful now, drinking gin in the bath after a night out/in/wherever can be altogether more complicated. Not to mention probably ineffective.

This was the only photo I saw fit to take last night:

2009-05-10T09:06:00.000-07:00

I mean, that is an impressive amount of loo roll for a club loo at two in the morning but there were possibly other things that might have made a better picture.

Last night we went to a party out near Sonnenallee. It was on the top floor of some huge building and it was really cool. I think it was called Skid Mark, charmingly. I met some cool people. One large man from Finland, one medium sized Glaswegian and a small French fashion designer. Can't remember what we talked about but I'm sure they were all entralling.

Got a kebab on the way home as well, awesome. And, as it was PISSING RAIN, Lena fell over. Sad for Lena, pretty funny for us...

I have been on the piss...

2009-05-09T04:15:00.000-07:00

...for approximately four and a half decades now, by my reckoning. I look deranged and my skin is unspeakably horrible. My hair is averaging a 6.7 on the Robert Smith scale like, all of the time. Ugh.

We (there are four of us staying in our flat at the moment) were doing that awful drunk girl cackling on the way to the bar. Howling about men and sex and feminism. I think Lena was the soberest at this point and was trying to get us to shut up but to no avail. On we went, knackerdrinking from shared bottles and throwing derisive comments at the sheep queueing at Watergate (honestly, what is all the fuss about?).

We went to Madame Claude's, which I really like. It's got that picture of Laura Palmer framed on the wall as you walk in. It does seem to be having some Polizei issues at the moment though, the music is ver ver quiet after 12. But still, a good time was had by all. We were fairly mangled by the time we even got there. Jessica claims to have been "incapable of holding a normal conversation with anyone" and I think I may have made an appointment to have my hair cut by a French Canadian who spent most of the evening demonstrating how his flannel shirt could be used to conceal the fact that he'd pulled his trousers and pants down until whenever he felt it necessary to reveal his bare arse to relative strangers.

Brilliant night.

My wonderful friend Jessica...

2009-05-06T16:06:00.000-07:00

has just moved to Berlin and we are currently discussing Things That We Will Always Enjoy Doing Forever.

1) Getting pissed with our friends.

2) Dancing to records (whilst pissed).

3) Listening to Otis Redding.

4) Listening to Leonard. I love washing dishes to Leonard, personally.

5) Discussing who would be the better boyfriend: Bob or Bruce. Bruce usually wins, I just think Bob would leave you behind at parties and things. I mean, not intentionally, but still. You know, he'd be all like "God, I'm so sorry about last night. I just, you know, met this guy and he had like this kazoo and like we just had to go and see this other guy who had a banjo".

6) Eating eggs in for breakfast.

7) Listening to Van. One of my first gifts to Jessie was, like many of my first gifts to many people, a burnt copy of Astral Weeks. I have not the words at this juncture.

I wanted to finish this post with a video of that song but alas I can't find one. The live one sounds weird (he's too old dammit, why was I born TOO FUCKING LATE FOR EVERYTHING?) and I'll be damned if I'm going to accept some lunatic with a guitar, a youtube account and a digital camera as a reptuable substitute. So this post will have no multimedia aspect to it at all. So there.

I made a man cry today.

2009-05-06T15:46:00.001-07:00

It wasn't terribly gratifying though, seeing as he was eight and it was accidental and over his (decidely dodgy) drawing of dogs and cats, but still. Nice to know one's still Got It.

Not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea...

2009-05-03T07:51:00.000-07:00

and think (due to the below and similar posts) that my life is just one constant merry-go-round of me putting a brave face on things here are some things that are worrying me today:

1) I might never marry someone like Jarvis Cocker.

2) I might never marry anyone at all.

3) The "look" I am sporting today could best be described as "rampant 1970s feminist-cum-lesbian". Not that there is anything wrong with this look, per se, but my possibly too-literal interpretation of it is leaving me cold. I'm not even wearing a bra, ffs, and my armpits are stubbly (though this is less commitment-to-the-look and more lack-of-commitment-to-showering). It's not good.

4) Just burnt my bastarding tongue on my bastarding tea.

5) I have five lessons to plan for tomorrow and I just cannot be arsed. If anyone has any ideas how to get three year olds to stop drawing on tables / eachother for long enough to learn about "house and garden" in English please let me know.

6) Have hardly any money. Again. Want festival tickets. Have hardly any money for festival tickets. Again. Etc etc repeat as fucking necessary.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Every cloud has a silver lining...

2009-05-03T06:30:00.000-07:00

Sometimes bad things happen. Things that make you say ridiculous things like "I can't believe I'm hearing this" or "Jesus, I did not see this coming" and then make hollow little laughing sounds. It is during times like these (or possibly a little after, once the sobbing and the "I FUCKING HATE THEM AAAAAAALLLLL"-ing have subsided), however, that one must remember the Important Things In Life:

1) Friends. Where the holy hell would we be without people who will (repeatedly) drop everything and run to your bedside bearing chocolate, waffel mischung, Bulgarian wine (affairs of the heart may get messy, but they need never be expensive) and fucktons of sympathetic expletives / offers of violent retribution? Up shit creek, alone, with no paddle to speak of, howling in pain / vain and gagging for Eastern European alcohol, that's where.

2) Mothers. As above but with added wisdom. And an oft creepy, but ultimately useful, insight into one's own head. And probably better taste in wine.

3) Other people's blogs what which you have just discoved and love so much you spend most of the weekend reading their archives.

See, life's not all bad.

Carol Ann Duffy is the new poet laureate!

2009-05-02T02:19:00.000-07:00

Yesso! A woman and a lesbian! This is a good thing indeed for poetry and me. And Carol Ann Duffy, I dare say. Read all about it here, her thoughts on it here, and some brilliant women's poetry here.

God I miss the Guardian so much...

Photograph taken from the aforementioned publication of wonderment, taken by Eamonn McCabe I'm told.

I wish we could have a street party everyday.

2009-05-02T01:41:00.000-07:00

As my good friend Elisa said to me at one particularly euphoric moment yesterday "why can't life me like this every single day?". And why the hell not indeed?

I had SUCH a good day yesterday. Good weather, good food, awesome company and some questionable music, what more could a girl want? Particular thanks is owed to Hubert and Miriam who, after their gin and tonic / rum and coke stand was lamentably shut down by the powers that be, simply upped sticks to Oranienplatz and summoned all their friends (and friends of friends) to come help drink their stock. They had crushed ice! Fucking A.

I predict a riot!

2009-05-01T03:02:00.000-07:00

Kudos to Lena (flatmate extraordinaire) for choosing that as the "rebel song" (Me: We need ONLY rebel songs today Lena!) that we started today, MAY DAY no less, with.

Our May Day activities have been exciting so far to say the least. We are currently on "police escort watch" which involves running out onto the balcony to shout "MAYDAYMAYDAYMAYDAY" when anything that has a police escort drive past. So far we have just had one, a rake of motorcyclists protesting/demanding/celebrating I know not what, but the day is yet young. We are going to Kreuzberg later to see what is going down, though obvs will be fleeing before nightfall.

These gals wouldn't though. Hells no. They'd stick it out to the bitter end, stillettos and all. Fucking brilliant:

Shiny, shiny disco balls.

2009-05-01T02:35:00.000-07:00

I love disco balls. Love, love, love 'em. Particularly the one in Villa as it's frickin' massive. They make everything seem magical. So magical, in fact, that when you and Lucy leave Villa at six a.m. you decide not to go home to sleep but to change your shoes in order to go on an "adventure".

Note to self: wandering round Friedrichshain in search of a kebab and eventually settling on a (disgusting) borek whilst drinking beer and tonic water (that was Lucy, I hasten to add, for reasons best known to herself) and alarming passers-by is NOT much of an adventure.

I have the weekend off!

2009-04-25T02:31:00.000-07:00

A whoop! I am going to do the following:

1) Be sad that I am not on the above tour. Even Uma looks postively put out about it.

2) Hang out with Lovely Lucy who is visiting us all the way from Norfolk. She also came bearing Krispy Kremes, one of which I just ate for breakfast.

3) Go shopping. It has been Too Long. But I am, staggeringly uncharacteristically, "alright for money" at the moment and so may actually be able to buy something shiny for dancing in this evening. I have a (possibly worrying) hankering for an 80s off-the-shoulder-disco/prom queen number. I will ask Lovely Lucy for her advice as she has awesome style (and works in a clothes shop) and therefore knows these things. I, on the other hand, work with small children and so have a disgusting cold at the moment because small children are unclean.

4) Consume a lot of Vitamin C.

5) Go dancing at here tonight, should my cold permit me. Tried to go out last night, epic fail. But hopefully I will be cheered by a shiny new dress or some such to wear.

6) Marvel at the weather. Get John to fix my bike so I can cycle around wearing some sort of floral tea dress marvelling at the weather.

Happy Sunshine Everybody!

Busy, busy, busy...

2009-04-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

...so barely blogging at all. Normal service will resume shortly. In the meantime:

lookatthisfuckinghipster.tumblr.com

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

You know what Deutschland needs to make more of a deal of?

2009-04-16T00:11:00.000-07:00

This:

Hi, I'm Joe Cocker.

2009-04-15T12:33:00.000-07:00

And I am a giant chalk-drawn sperm coming out of a giant chalk-drawn penis surrounded by other chalk-drawn penises (penii?) of varying shapes and sizes that can be viewed all over the lake area at the Volkspark Friedrichshain. At least until it rains. We are despicable and yet GENIUS.