Oh.,... BARRY is in Berlin. Okayyyy...

Trying to be JFK? Oh no... No. Those were other times, they were.... The latter gave hope and optimism. Barry? I haven't the slightest idea what he is going to impart. But am certain it will be a big help after all the damage Dumbya and co have done. Despite the fact that I am still incensed that he fucking voted to grant the telecoms retroactive immunity. I could just SPIT, as my Mom used to say...

He is gonna speak in front of the victory column in Berlin. I have been there. It is huge, and five avenues spread out from it. I got dragged up to the top of it in the early Seventies. I have an abnormal fear of heights, and when you come out the door on top, there is a railing, and everything, but the place to stand on is very narrow, and slopes down. And I remember slamming myself against the wall next to the door, and saying, 'Oh.... ohhhh...' And my host was going ON about the view, and I was being polite, you know? 'Oh yes, yes, wonderful..... NOW PLEASE, Please take me back DOWN. Please.' It was one of the most frightening experiences of my life.

But Barry will be ok, because he will be at the base of it, and not have to go UP there. They had wanted him to speak in front of Brandenburg Gate, which is a stone's throw away, but chancellor Angela Merkel nixed it, because only residing preidents speak there. Big deal. Petty.... Stoopid... Who the fuck cares, hey.... They expect as many as one million people there this evening.... A nightmare for security, that is for sure....

Obama and Merkel met this morning. From the body language, she was being 'friendly', several touches on the arm. He was reserved, if smiling. What a difference from Dumbya mauling her when she was unaware, from behind and so on. I'm surprised she didn't have a heart attack when that happened, really....

The media in Germany is being 'hinterlistig', sneaky snarky. They brought a lot of 'man on the street' interviews this morning, mostly racist in undertone, and complaining about the security measures interrupting their daily lives. Uh-huh. Well. Security may be on high alert, and all, but they didn't demand that all the sewer covers on all the routes taken be sealed shut, so that no assassin jumps out of one like in 'The Third Man'. Or give people on the routes more or less a house arrest, as was the case everytime that ASSHOLE 'visited' us. Leaving the hosting country to pay the costs, and all.... So what is wrong with THIS picture, huh? Gawd, it is so OBVIOUS, I could puke, but I gave that up for the time being.... Slanted 'journalism'? Oh, believe it, hey.

The second big story is the 'capture' of Karadzic. Right. Serbia wants to join the EU, and the government who wants to get in give him up. They always knew where he was.... They'll probably give up Mladic soon as well. Expediency, my Preciousses. Just expediency. So how long is it gonna take to get the US into a postition to turn over Bush and Cheney for war crimes, I wonder? Because what THEY have done FAR exceeds what the Serbs did. It will take years, or never.... But one can dream....

Will try to live-blog Barry's speech this evening. Am just tired, and my foot hurts.

Oh, just give me a break, hey...

Does anyone have ANY idea how to keep someone's appetite up after they reach a certain age? Am despairing, here.....

Movie Review.... Sweeney Todd

Do nRun. Do not walk. And add this to your dvd collection. I guarantee you will watch this over and over. Will admit I was sceptical when the film came out, and not so pleased with the clips I saw on the internet. Using untrained singers to film one of the best musicals ever written.... But it fucking WORKS. My copy arrived yesterday. And within two minutes I was hooked. It is rough-edged, but brilliant. And very creepy, oh yes... And tragic, and very bloody, which film can do and the stage usually can not.... It is a bit compressed in comparison to the stage version, but oh MY, that music makes your heart swell, not joking. It is all of one cloth, in its' look, the performances, the horrific story, underscored by the best music I have ever heard. I would even reccomend the two-disc version, because you get two hours of absolutely fascinating background, which most of those things never give you. Historians, experts, and of course, Steven Sondheim himself, who has never spoken so openly about this work before, to my knowledge.

Have seen three versions of this so far. And one of the real key roles is Mrs. Lovett. Angela Lansbury was the original and so 'dotty' it was hilarious. Patti LuPone was closer to the age of her Sweeney in the concert version, and added this very intense, 'am in love but it is hopeless' twist to it. Helena Bonham Carter in the film adds something very new. Absolutely amoral. Creepy... Love has nothing to do with it. Fascinating how someone can take a role and use the same text, and make it new. All of the Sweeneys I have seen are pretty much the same. Obsessed, tortured inside, and way out for revenge. Johnny Depp can be proud of what he created in this film, but he is renowned for being a 'serious' actor. And the score is one bitch of a difficult one... But he did it like a punk-rock star. And it worked.

And still, and still... it is always about the music, that wonderful score. I always go to pieces when little Toby does 'Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around'. But that has private reasons. I first heard it the first time Peter was hospitalised, and it blew me away. But every number in that makes my arm hairs.... the few that I have... stand up and gives me the shivers.

And all the rest of it. It is a very diabolical piece of work, actually. The music lifts you up, and the texts are so diametrically opposed, it can creep you out.

I guess that is what genius is.....

So... what are you waiting around here for? Go look. But above all.... listen. And no, it doesn't need a big screen. It's the music....

Ok.... Just shoot me. NOW.

Yes, it is that sort of day here. And they DO shoot horses, don't they? First I get up, and my foot went down so it doesn't look like a ham hock. That was good.... And got the basics done for Peter, and by the time I got there, it hurt like hell-fire, and I couldn't really cook. Ooohhh... swell.

I wanted to leave by noon, it was unbearable. Whereupon my neighbor W., the French Foreign Legtion guy called me on my cell. Which always, ALWAYS drives Peter to distraction for jealousy. Whereupon I must MUST add, the FFL guy is so straight, they don't MAKE them like that any more! Gott.... I wasn't in his mansard attic for three days, and he likes me to translate for him. His 'angeels, and Goddesses... I saw no way to get up the stairs in the afternoons...

To review... he hates Americans, but thinks I'm 'ok'. Uh-huh. Whatever, I went up there after Peter today.... He needed a translation programme, you know? Where he can write in German, and it translates to English. OH GAWD, the free stuff is so bad, I mean I had an hilarious time with Babelfish, but that wasn't what he needs. I finally found one. It took hours, and my leg was killing me by that time... So I taught him how to use it. It isn't perfect, but it works. And I told him I feel uncomfortable about being the third wheel on the bicycle, and so on. It is HIS stuff, and he KNOWS about MY stuff.... I suppose if you were to ask him, he would see me with the one word 'Camaderie'. And that is pretty daunting.... If nice.... We can talk about all sorts of things, and yes, he can make me laugh in a way I never experienced before. Just jock talk. I never experienced that before, just guys being pigs, well, not, but just open. Odd for me. Very odd.
So that seemed to be ok. I mean, here is this person who doesn't know me from a hole in the ground, and he gives me all his entry ID's and Passwords to all his sites? I wouldn't even give mine to PETER!

And no, will not misuse that trust, but I did tell him, 'What the FUCK do you think you are DOING?' Gewalt.....

So I thought the day was over, and got me some food for supper. There is this poor man from Nigeria who always sells magazines about immigrants because he can't get a work permit. We were always 'jolly', but one day some months ago, I was going home with a dvd in hand, and he asked me what it was. Tja. It was Brokeback Mountain. Nigerians and gays, Preciousses.... Just FORGET it. He cut me off as if I were contagious. And he did NOT like that I have mixed blood in my family. I was amazed. Two strikes and I was just OUT.

So this evening, after ten days of humpling about with a cane, I come out of the supermarket. He hasn't spoken to me personally since the above, but if I wheel Peter in there, he is very nice to him and greets him. And he got this 'beligerent' look on his face, and said, 'It HURTS me to see you in so much pain, and you should see a doctor! Have you got pain pills? Is anyone DOING antything? ' Well whaddaya know.... And I said, 'How kind of you. Yes. I have some salves. It takes time, John. But thank you for asking. That means more than you know....'

Isn't it ODD that you get a little moral boost from those you least expect it from? His instant rejection of me reminded me of my brother's reaction. And he wasn't 'family'. Just an acqaintance. I think he knows that he hurt my feelings. But he opened up a little channel where we can speak again. And NO, I have no 'feelings' other than friendship if it could possibly be.

You know, the arm-punching asshole things guys do.... and to learn from one another....

Sorry, am being maudlin this evening. But that was a lot to take....

Oh My Bones, and 'shake me up., Judy...

-That is after the fact, hey. I get ready to go out after an afternoon nap, because me leg is killing me and the door-bell rings. My neighbor. Well, sleepy-heads, it is high summer and killer heat. And all I wear is a tee-shirt and boxer shorts. It was my new neighbor. He wanted to know if I had any tools....

I didn't know whether to break into hilariouty or cry. I have two tiny screw-drivers and a hammer, that is it. I am not your mr. fix-it, am all thumbs.

And THEN he goes, 'God, your leg!' I said, 'Whaaa?' 'The one you hurt is twice the size of the other side... '
Uh-Huh.... And whaddaya know, it really was.... 'You should REALLY go to a hospital, hey....' Right, I go to a hospital, get written up sick, and get NO money. Fine. NO WAY. Period. End of discgusting... Discussion. NO.
Doctors have done enough to me this year. God gave us ice packs. And my leg will be good again.... Am not really up for body changes, thenk you...But it was sort of odd.

;My left leg looks as if it belongs to the fat lady at the circus....

But it hurts less....

I've had foot sprains, but this one is the pits.... I'll be tap dancing and snoopy dancing by the end of next week, promise...

Oooo, Sweeney Todd is coming out on dvd next week...

I pre-ordered it per Amazon, of course. I couldn't take Peter to see that back then, it was too long, and he has this bladder thing since his stroke. At home, I can pause the dvd till he gets his stuff done, you know? No, not amusing. But we both love the music and the story, even if it is weird.

So this morning, Preciousses, I was feeling like Gollum after he spent one thousand years in a cave in Middle Earth, eating fishessss ... oh yes. (sorry, some almost relatives of mine have been in New Zealand the past weeks, and it was on my mind.... Middle Earth.)

Whatever, I says, 'why don't you stop this self pitying shit and get yourself together for a change?' It was my other Gollum talking.... And I said, 'Ok, my sprain is still hurting, but can get over there...' And the Gollum said, 'Fuck the sprain, you will be tap-dancing in two weeks, Precious...' Right...

So I went to my barber. First he cut my hair. Then he gave me a beard that doesn't make me look like a beggar on the main square. My face just doesn't grow thick hair all over the place. So we had to comprimise. I asked him what to do about it, and what did he say?

'Cut it all off??'

Well that is pretty much a disaster, after just letting it grow in this heat, hey.... It is itchy, scratchy...

We comprimised.

And then came the Sweeney Todd part. I have never been shaved by a barbar. He had me tilted in his chair and whistled around lathering up some cream that smelled like lavender. I was thinking about Sweeney Todd, and it was sort of creepy. Letting someone go at you with a straight razor, and all. But he was so good, it turned out ok, obviously. He was so gentle, I hardly felt it....

It jsut gave a new dimension to what I am going to see soon....

And when he finally finished with me, he said, 'hey, you look much younger', but he doesnt like the beard. He did wonders, and I don't care. I do not want to look like Caspar Milquetoast any more....

And oh yes, there is a LOT I have to say about other things, but am gathering up my immense anger, and will discharge it accordingly.

I got so fucked over, am just beginning to find my feet again, and then I sprain one....

Typical...

Third World hetero Dating Blogs... uh HUH...

Ok, I KNOW about the other ones, oh BOY do I know. Not recommended. But at least the other ones are honest in what they write, more or less.... But the foreign het ones, oh. my. gawd. Some of them are so sad, they freak me.
##So why do I even bother? I sort of got roped into it by a neighbor who can't speak English. And asked me to fix his pc as best I could, and install programmes so he could speak with his 'desirable women' -- for him, that is... Crash course in another world, hey.
This GUY, my neighbor is so dammed up, he is gonna have a premature ejaculation if he ever GETS to meeting one of them, I swear on the Bible, or whatever......
Or sire sextuplets, one or the other....

Sigh... WHY do I DO these things? Peter is off the charts for jealousy.... Oh, I know!... I wanted to know what makes him tick and do what he did, joining the Foreign Legion, right. And I was bored.... And just wanted to listen. Like most Aires people, he can be very persuasive and manipulative. Why do I always fall for that? Caretaker. So have been taking care to code a lot of messages so that those poor girls do not answer. He hasn't caught on yet. He's like a kid after WWII who just saw his first smorgasbord, and wants it all and can't make up his mind. It is sort of creepy, in fact.
Tja, I didn't have anything ELSE to do.... And he looked like he could turn into a short story. Materialwise... So I thought, hmm, what is going ON here, huh?
WE get into so many arguments with the installation stuff, I could just cold-cock him, sometimes, except he doesn't think I have the necessary aggression. He is very wrong.

But if I really get verbally aggressive and let my mother's genes take the fore when he has gone too far, his military training takes over, and he goes 'obedient'. Gets quiet. And then apologises when I prove I am right.

And then he goes and cooks something. Cooks well, btw. Simple, but good. A mass of contradictions, and just when you think you got the key, you didn't.

Oh well, we shall see, won't we? But am going to have to find a bloody way to be able to stop translating his dribble to salivating young ladies who want to flee and marry abroad. It makes me feel dirty. Some of them are really lovely, and seem very nice. Others are skeery....

Whatever.... It is interesting to take a look at the 'other' side...

Gawwd, what is it with young people nowadays?

I was trying, 'trying very discreetly' to get out of my house last night, and my new neighbors were in the green strip between our two buildings. They promptly jumped up and went and got them for me. They are twenty-somethings. And did I mention pretty? Oh, very. Both of them.

They were actually interested in my sitting there and getting to know them. Well, what would they want to know from the old disheveled fart from across the entryway, hey?

Whatever, it was very nice. And the young lady's mom and my biological nemesis of a mother seem to have had a lot in common. Maybe she was the 'twin', I do not know. We found we had a lot in common that people generally do not approve of. And I tried to impart some good advice, being a 'gruftie' (near the grave person) and all. And I got kissed good night, from the prettiest young lady I have seen in years. It almost made the pain in my ankle go away.

Two of their friends came and went while we were out there. Also very young. They made me smile muchly....

And feel very old, nothing from their side, from mine.

When I think of what a HUGE divide there was between generations in the 60's, this puzzles me. But is nice enough.

And no, will not impose myself on them. It was just coincidence. But it was a nice one...

And there is enough aggressive attitude toward Oldies here, which makes me just wonder, ok?

Tja....

HOW do you go about saying 'Enough!' and cancel this vermaleite Year??

Let's see... I get up, and the assholes in Washington gave the telecoms retroactive immunity, so there ARE people who break the law with impunity, and get away with it. Even though the fight not to let that happen was gigantic, and kudos to everyone who fought it.

More boats with refugees from Africa trying to reach Europe, and children dying on them of heat prostration, so they just tossed the corpses overboard, fish food. Heart-breaking.

Two evenings ago I slipped on one of my throw rugs and twisted my ankle so badly.... pain, much pain. I can't even get out of the house. At least I can get from the WC to the bed and back today. Yesterday was a sea of red. Pain. And am not the sort of person who gibbers about easily, but that fucking hurt. I could hardly put any weight on my left foot yesterday, nor find a position in bed where it didn't hurt so bad, I would have liked to have taken an axe and cut it off.

This morning, it took me ten minutes to get a shoe on. And then I went to the bank, the tobacconist, and the grocery store, because I didn't have anything left in the house. It was an odyssey, but I didn't whimper or complain. That was a big bit of progress, but the stairs... Oh gawwd, came home drenched.

After everything else this year, I really want to cancel and get ON with things, you know?

My neighbor W. called me this noon, and asked after how I'm doing. Said he would check with me later today, if I should need anything. Which is ok....

At least I now know he knows what the word neighbor means. And he yelled at me for not seeing a doctor. Only one question to that: 'HOW?' I mean, I've sprained my ankle a few times in my salad days, roller-skating or just being a klutz, but this time. Oh, man!

So you go the invalid route and see the rest of the world going to pot. Let's just cancel this year, ok? And get on with the rest....

Just sayin'.

Preposterous, I know...

Christ, what a week......

Didn't I already SAY this year should be cancelled? I sprained my ankle and it hurts so bad, I can't even get out of the house to buy sniggarettes....

And the phone just rang, and I thought it was Peter again, so I yelled, 'WHAT? WHAT? You know what is wrong and it is KILLING me to walk to the phone, you idiot.' Except it wasn't Peter. It was a company from a former interntets provider I had at the beginning, many years ago, and they had a payment of 200 Euros from my account because back then, I just had my bank send it monthly.

GAAAWWD. Embarassment? Check. Wanting to fall through the floor and die? Check. Falling all over yourself for excusing rude behaviour? Oh yes, check. The lady was a lady, and was nice, and that made me feel worse, if anything.... She will send the money back, and I was very polite, without going off the charts and asking what they have been doing with the rest of those deposits for years now.....

And will have a word or two with my bank people tomorrow.

Well, that's what you get if you just ignore things, Preciousses... Mortified. Yup.

And NOW, have completely forgotten what I wanted to post about. And my ankle is giving me a lot of pain. So back to bed...

Ok... have heard a lot of things in my life, but being a mysoginist???

Just give me a break, hey...

I like women. I do.

What the fuck is it with people, huh?

My neighnbor wanted to send some money per Western Union to a girl, and I did what he asked. I had to call her and tell her what the code word was to pick it up. She did. And it wasn't enough for her. Seemingly. And then----- she tells me through him, I could have done it differently via the internets, using his fucking CREDIT CARD NUMBER, and I fucking freaked out. Am NOT going to make myself an accessory after the fact, and will NOT have anything further to do with this idiocy, NO! When I called, I smelled something fishy. I have never ever sent any money per Western Union before, because I don't have any to send. Man oh man, she was right on top of it for details, you could hear her salivating with the roosters crowing and the dogs barking in the background.

And who the fuck did she get that from? An AMERICAN student, natch... Give me a fucking break.-...

Gaaaa....

A scam, a fucking scam....

And my neighbor, who isn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier, went off the charts. I do not understand women, I do not know how hard it can be for them in so many parts of the world, I have no feeling for them, am cold, and on and on. A pure mysoginist, that's me.

He was pissed off to the max.

I just left, I don't need that.....

As far as I'm concerned they can strip him to his underpants, but without me, hey....

I think women are nice. As friends....

Yup... you live and learn, n'est-ce pas?

But there are some awesome barracuddas swimming out there.....

I tried and TRIED to tell him..... Didn't do any good. His penis got ahold of the wheel and is steering.

So fuck it.

Mysoginist my ASS....

oh dear oh dear.....

Nearly a half of a year of my existence got messed up by 'people who KNEW better.' That is prettystrong tobacco, as they say here.... 'Well, you guys got your fourth of July without anything untoward happening, as far as I can see.'

For years, that date is the day you call Aunt Charlotte. And she turned 90. And Peter's telephone was still off. So he told me to call her from my normal phone, and convey his wishes. And I HURT her doing that. She sent me a mail saying that she was touched to hear from me, but was disappointed not to hear from him personally, because he has NEVER missed calling her on her birthday. Nothing personal regarding me, but I heard it in her voice, and she told me right out in her mail that day...

I hadn't known that, as so much other things I do not know about Peter. You can live with someone for over thirty years, and find out that you do not know a lot about them in the end effect... I unlocked my heart, and he knows everything about everything. But he has kept whole chambers and cellars in his that are dark, and private, and he can't open the doors to the dark chambers.....

And that was a metaphor, but it is TRUE.

WELL. It fucking pissed me off to get a mail from her, being so disappointed. And I had to take him OUT today, so hot and humid, and read him the riot act. 'YOU WILL call her. Or I won't come by or cook, or show you movies for THREE WEEKS. YOU will call her and explain that I couldn't get you out of the fucking HOUSE for three days because the neighbors were gone, and I can't get you down the fucking ten stairs alone.' (True)

'And you will call her, because, Precioussssss: YOU DO NOT TREAT YOUR NEAREST AND DEAREST RELATIVES LIKE THAT!! WHAT the FUCK has gotten INTO you, hey?'

Turns out, it was because I said we would go to a 'Call Centre' after the first chore. He didn't want the call centre. Oh no. They are run by Turks, you see, and I don't know how they do it, but very inexpensive. We've passed one for YEARS, on the way downtown, and he considered them 'dirty' and low-life, or something.

Oh no, he wanted to go to the snottiest most arrogant post office people in the neighborhood and use their booths. This pissed me off immensely. But SURPRISE, hey. The call centers are so competitive, they don't have phone cells to call from any more. Two coin machines, and I sure didn't have enough for that to Frankfurt in my pocket.....

I was fucking spitless for amazement. Every week we go to Enver, who comes from Turkey, and the guy cuts his hair and shaves him, and is so careful and so nice. We couldn't get out for a few weeks, he gave him his card, said to call, and he would come over and do it for him at home. Those people have so much HEART.

(And no, he is NOT a one-man show, just one man in a barber parlour and struggling, so no calculation on his part. He is just ok, and nice, and Peter feels sorry for him.)

And then THAT. No, he is NOT going to go there, and they are robbers and theives, or whatever, and I said, 'WHAA? HOW can you SAY that? You don't KNOW them. ' Part of it was stress before talking to his Aunt, but the rest was pure Xenophobia. And I said, 'WE are GOING in there, and you are going to use a telephone booth. Or you know what is going to happen, and I am SO not joking....'

'they have STAIRS'.

'No, just a slight elevation, it is ok.'

(Fuck.)

So we get in. Clean. Simple. Booths, and cubicles for internet surfers. A friendly pimply kid around seventeen. I said, 'We would like to telephone.' He assigned a booth. So I got him in there, everything spic and span, and he dialled, and then I went out and had a snigarette. I smoke hundreds, and was steaming, but when you do one, seven minutes have passed. Looked in when I threw the stump in the gutter and he had just hung up. So we went to the pimply kid (is eating at MacDonalds or too fatty stuff, you don't see that here normally..) and asked for the bill, and thought I misheard. 84 Eurocents. I was shocked. 'What was that?' '84 Eurocents.' On my cell that would have way surpassed my 20 Euros. Oh my. But yeah, hey, you can't trust a Turk. The critics should all just go fuck themselves and find out how that is possible and stop fucking us over.

Whatever.... Interesting, n'est-ce-pas'? nicht wahr? isn't it?

And here we fucking go again, judging without knowing what the fuck you are talking about, hey?

And to put the topping on the cake: 'Hey that was nice, we can do that every week till I get my stuff done.'

Unfortunately, my best friend is not here to put sixteen negative adjectives before a noun, and I am so inadequate at that, will let you do your own.

It SUCKS, that attitude, and then be so slimy about it.

ok, OK! When the fuck did I win the Mr. Personality Contest of the Week, huh???

Was it heat exhaustion on the part of the jury? What the FUCK?

I am 'normally' an inwisible indwidual. (And yes, we've been watching BBC Dickens films again, right. I love them. And Peter gets more involved the second time around....)

But... to have to go out and do battle with officials and offices in thirty degree heat pushing a 106 kilo dead-weight in a wheel chair and sit around till your turn comes, Preciousses, that is the pits. Unless something gets done, and it did. It began in the office of the City Senate lady for appartments for people who are crippled. And when Peter was through, this Cerberus of an office lady with three heads----oh, only one, am mixing this up with Harry Potter, and I seemingly lost my invisibility cape on the way to top it off....

This person SCREAMED at me for having the bold-faced AUDACITY to try to get behind Peter's wheelchair and help him out over the step to the office. 'YOU Go BACK, and let this man out of our office! Stay away!'

I was bloody shocked, I tell you, shocked. Until I barked. 'I am accompanying him and have to take him HOME!'

Upon which, she melted like the wicked witch of the west, she did. She was so mortified she kept stroking my shoulder, and apoligising all over the place. The stroking on the shoulder was nice, by the way....

After seeing what runs in and out of there, I wasn't so surprised, actually, and found it hilarious.

And today, W. the French Foreign Legion guy, took up some of my time. I had installed a web-cam for him yesterday, and he wanted to see and talk to a young lady on some Web-site called My Foreign Bride. (I know, eeeeewwwww.) Well, W. gets angry with me because I make caustic remarks about bounty hunters, serial killers, people who belong in the wood-chipper and on-line chaos, all thanks to my best friend. And he finds me 'cynical'. Oh yes, Preciousses, he finds me out and down cynical. Well, yesterday, I showed him an offer I received from France. It was so off the charts for fantasy, you could barf. But hilarious because so contradictory. He GOT it. It was the first time I ever heard him laugh out loud, heartily.

And I said, 'DON'T you EVER tell me that again, and am so happy to hear you laugh out loud.'

He couldn't get the damned thing to work today, so I went over after lunch. Emeline, that is her name, was in an internet café, and we couldn't get the fucking sound to work. And she was in an internet café. W. can't type worth shit, but I can. So I stayed out of the camera, and did what he wanted, but I never lied. She knows I'm his neighbor and help him communicate.

She is absolutely lovely. AND....

Mamma and her sister were in the background, and Mamma is very sceptical, ooooo

I let off a lot of fun stuff... When she smiles, she is so lovely, but concerned. I didn't tell any lies, and only told the truth.

I stayed off camera because the beard I am growing still looks scruffy and my shirt got tomato sauce on it when I cooked for Peter today. (Stuffed peppers with tomato sauce, with a filling of onion, lamb and a heavy dose of cheddar cheese and some mushrooms. My appetite is coming back finally...)

Well, she asked about him a lot, and I answered what I know, truthfully, and then about me, which I answered truthfully....

And then we had to shut down, because internet cafés in the Phillipines close at ten pm.

And her last line was: 'Oh, I so like to chat with you.' Meaning me.

Oh no. Oh no.... No....

I fucking freaked.

All I DID was translate and add a bit of snark to it, damn it!

Our Aunt Charlotte turned ninety yesterday. I called her from home. She was delighted.

And W. comes over me like hot soup or something about how good a friend I am.

So what the fuck is this, Mr. Popularity Week? I am not used to this, and am inwisible, Preciousses. No.

It must have something to do with the MOON.....

Ok, we wanna tald about getting fully pissed off?

Well, you probably do not, but I do... I just saw an AP headline on Yahoo that says Barry is gonna support 'faith-based' groups. Like yeah, you keep your dick in your pants, and your dresses down dears, and the undies on till your wedding day or something.

Did he fucking grow up on, MARS? That is so sick... am ready to barf again, and I am a world champion barfer.
And to make matters worse, my fucking pc, Lazarus by name, decided to do his own thing today... And will not let me get back to the way the screen is SUPPOSED to look. Lazarus is a world class asshole, and whether he knows it or not, he is bound for the scrap heap at the end of the month, and I am gonna get a MAC. Fuck Bill Gates and the thousands of Schillings and Euros I spent on his Microshit. NO more. I get an operating system that WORKS.....

It will take a bit of learning, but that is ok. It is stable, and I don't have to do string-alt-remove any more... Worth it.

And it isn't for nothing that he is getting out while the going is good, getting hit with a 500 million Euro fine for practices that were unfair in normal business practices in Europe. Nope, nothing surprises me any more.

Ok, you go on and on--- and get nightmares.... Really

I have some really disassociated hearing things. Especially if your neighbors play drums. My last neighbor played drums. The first time I heard him do it, I woke up at four in the morning wondering, 'Who the fuck is falling down the stairs repeatedly?' And I opened my double doors and it was drums. Well I didn't care, I had to go to work ANYWAY.

Jeffy moved out, and said I was gonna LOVE the new ones. Yup nice new family. A two year old daughter who looks like an angel. Nice Wife. And blonde Peter, who na ja, not so cool with him. Something is wrong. My radar is not good with him, and I don't mean gaydar. Slick.

So welcome to my new radar. Something must be bothering me subconciously about him.

Whatever he rang the bell a couple of days ago, and asked me about putting his music studio in the attic above my apt. I really don't mind. But then it was quiet for two weeks, ya know? I threw up today, and don't even know WHY.

It is SO bloody hot here, and I have to do so much tomorrow, I did my afternoon NAP. I hate afternoon naps. And whaddaya know, hey, I combined the noise upstairs with a nightmare. I was CONVINCED that someone was trying to break into my neighbors' apt and kill them with a sledge hammer. Shades of 'Daddy's HOME!!!' Eeeewwwww.

And then I made a fucking ASS out of myself. Rang the bell, and asked if everything was ok with them. It was so fucking embarrassing. And of course he said they are beginning to practice. And asked if it bothered me. And I said no, you just scared me out of my wits, hey.
I'd forgotten. He asked, 'should we stop?' And I said, 'oh, Geh, hör me auf' And fucking do what you do, as long as I know what it is...hey...

Gawd, am I lax. But I love young people, and what they do, and wouldn't want to get in their way. Never.

Especially if they are creative. The new drummer seems to be good. But am not about to impose on their perceptions, hey. That is their stuff....

But istn't that sort of paranoid stuff?? Really. You think you get the fuck RID of it and then you go all protective because the world you grew up in is so terribly violent.

And it is in your fucking subconcious.

So yeah, I got all protective. And it wasn't necessary.

And I feel like an idiot.

Ja, swell...

What a very strange Sunday, hey....

It is Peter's name day, so you do something like on a birthday. Make them something they like, in this case Wiener Schnitzeln, and potatoe salad, and have a glass of sparkling wine and drink their health. It is a tradition, you know?

Nothing spectacular, in other words, just the regular....

BUT.... Today is the finals of the European soccer championships. Germany vs. Spain. (Ja, the ASSHOLES beat the Turks and got into the finals.... Spew alert.) But there is hope, hey. The bloody 'calf of the nation' went and did it again, oh joy. The team captain, not an animal, even if I'm not so sure about that.... His leg, the calf. He got damaged two years ago and everyone in the media was talking about the calf of the nation. So now we get the re-run. And oh BOY, you wanna talk about a nation of whiney assed titty babies, as Atrios calls them, you have to see the German media in action, hey. Waschlappen, hey. (Wet dish towels.) We in Austria go off the charts for Schadenfreude when they go bonkers.

It sort of reinforces our fratricidal instincts, yup. Whine sob, it's gonna ruin their 'Sommermärchen' their fairy tale happy ending. Well hell's bells, that's the way the fucking cookie crumbles, and they should just get a grip. And no, I don't want them to win. It would make them even more insufferable than they already are.

The other thing was that we watched a live concert from Vienna that took place a couple of weeks ago. Right on that huge square in front of City Hall. The place was PACKED. It was a competition of young virtuoso musicians from all over Europe, between 15 and 19 years old. Accompanied by the Vienna Philharmonic orchestra. They freaked me out, really. Such talent, and such very difficult pieces. There was an eighteen year old young man from Corfu who did a clarinet piece for orchestra. I know a little about clarinet, because I got one as a kid. (I wanted to learn piano, but tja, that was all my 'rents could afford....) So I KNOW what a difficult instrument it can be.

And this KID comes out, and from the first phrases, my mouth dropped, and I didn't get it closed again. And by about the fourth phrase, I said to Peter, 'MY GAWWD! I had no IDEA it could sound like that! Every note so clear... knock me over with a feather, hey.!' It was just honest admiration. The piece was so difficult, and none of them had notes to look at, they fucking played. I was just spitless.

And I wish you could have seen the audience, they went nuts. The kid with the clarinet won, and he was so stunned, you could tell he was nearly crying for joy. And the others were hardly less good, but that was so stunning, he earned it.

While the jury was out deliberating, opera singer Angelika Kirchshläger did some numbers. Kurt Weill, for instance. She is the daughter of one of our former presidents, a good one. I last saw her in the Vienna opera about fifteen years ago. Like good wine, her voice has improved with age. And then they got the entire Vienna Boy's Choir out with her, and noooo.... nothing kitschy. They did this astounding thing with different languages, from Latin to god knows what, and it was about friendship, and the rhythms kept changing from Oriental to Latin to Austrian traditional, but it made up a whole somehow.... Blew the audience away.


Tja, I guess that sort of sums up the difference between Austrians and Germans. The lattter have the big lip. We seem to get off on good music.

Whatever....

Ok, my wonderful Dad... maintains that my life is a soap opera

He didn't even mean it to be mean, he sees it that way.

It cracked me up, hey. I can feature it, oh yes....

And after yesterday, oh Boy, I can feature it.

I got a call this evening. The tin soldier (moi) didn't go over to see his neighbor two days in a row. We spoke on the phone yesterday, and I was still off the charts for 'angry'. So this evening he comes at me, with 'hey, are you sour with me?' That is what you say if you are really angry with someone. You go sour, hey.

And no, I wasn't. I was confused.

And he put his finger right on the point where it hurts. We fucking think alike, hey. Rudi was off the charts for jealous because I saw my neighbor all week, just helping him with some stuff.

I had been assuming that today, but he really brought it to the boil.

Hey, how does this stuff HAPPEN, hey? I am nearing sixty, and two guys put me in a clinch? I don't NEED the ex pimp. And the fucker went all huggy on me, and I hate that. I don't need that, and would have liked to throw him out of winder as Dickens would say.

My neighbor is just a neighbor. He has lived a very rough life but is kind and nice, and ok. I am glad to help him. He is a very nice person. And if I were to come on to him, he would literally KILL me. Not that I would even want to. He is a friend. He doesn't even get into that hetero thing where you punch someone in the arm. Well, you know the drill....

He fucking HATES Americans, my neighbor. And he is cool. I seem to be an exception to the rule, hey. The guy is a contradiction in terms, hey. You have to go a very long way to find that in your life, believe me.

And this evening? HALLO? My neighbor on the line. He fucking GOT it. 'Where have you been, hey? Do you think Rudi is jealous because you visit me? Nothing you told me last night makes sense otherwise. ' Well Bingo!!! Right on the nose, hey.

He isn't the brightest lamp in the chandelier, but he GOT it.

And no. OH NO! NEVER. I like the guy as neighbor, but no fucking way, so back off. He's just an interesting friend, nothing else.

I am too bloody OLD to even think about it. NO.

Soap Opera, darlin's? Gawwd, I can so get OFF on 'The Young and the Restless' . Even if they aren't so young any more. But they are fun.

Tja, am fucked over in my mind tonight, so nite...

Just been ruminating.... tja

I let myself get so freaked out yesterday. It was hardly funny.

And I 'talked' to the most wonderful friend I have this morning per mail. And it hit me.

I'm bloody schizoid, hey. No, not a joke, I AM.

Ya know, you get two sets of genes from your 'rents, and you try to make the best of them. Seems to me that my fahter's genes are the good ones, the ones I set my daily compass by. And I have done very well by them, living up to them.

My Mom's genes, the biological one? Those fucking genes are lurkers. And you never know when they are gonna come to the forefront, and they include rage, much rage. Sometimes they have served me well. Sometimes they have damaged me irreparably. I inevitably get ill if they take over. So I normally do not let them out if I can help it.

My Achilles heel is being waken out of a deep sleep. I am the worst person you have ever wanted to meet then. You have to get OUT of my way, and just be silent for an hour, and all will be well. It's my Mom's genes. Once I collect myself, and get ready for the day, my Dad's genes take over, and am your veritable lamb.

Yesterday, I got woken out of a deep sleep. It has been so hot and so humid, that is what I DO I sleep. With the fricken fan on. And I got woken up with this breathless ASS giving me a 'story'. My L genes went way forward. And you know what? He was AFRAID of me. (I am going to have to mark this on a calendar, NO ONE has ever been afraid of me... ever.) And then he went so far as to excuse himself, and HUG me, the ass. That stupid ex-pimp.

I've always been afraid of HIM. Really.

Wow.

Sometimes the L genes are just what you need in life, but they are dangerous.

And what it was REALLY about? I don't visit him to watch him and his wife fight all the time, and get caught in the middle.

But I was over at another neighbor's every day for a week and helped him with his english. The French Foreign Legion guy. So Rudi is jealous because I visit Werner? Gimme a fucking BREAK, hey. Werner is so fucking hetero, they just don't make them like that any more, and I respect it. He doesn't even do that hetero punch in the arm stuff, and yell hey if you have the same idea. He is quiet, and a nice person. Has a quiet sense of humour. He is ok. He brings out my Dad's genes.

And before you get any odd ideas.... he would KILL any guy who would come on to him sexually.

He wasn't joking, and I didn't take it as such. The other day, it was hot as hell up in his attic. I was so uncomfortable, I said., 'Listen, I gotta get rid of this shirt, it's too hot.' Whereupon he put his tee-shirt ON. There wasn't an inkling of anything sexual there, it was just so hot outside.

So I guess I scared the little guy as well.

I HAVE to mark this on my calendar, oh yes...

Ren goes skeery just short of sixty years old and terra-rizes his environment. And grows a beard, because he has nothing ELSE to do. Wow...

Sorry, Dad, sometimes the genes just come to the fore, and sometimes it is good, sometimes not.

Did I tell you I love you today? Sometimes I even 'like' my L genes... Tja...

oh. oh.... JEEBUS H Christ and somena bitch hey...

As a colleague of mine used to say. Somena bitch. Yup. I loved him for that....

Whatever, it is at the point where I do not know where the hell I am. Supposedly, I am to receive a letter with a delodging notice that I am supposed to ignore.

Because the GAS man who read my meters supposedly found my apt. 'untidy'. HELLO, say fucking WHAT? Those of you who have visited me know very well... I'm not a paragon of having everything in order, but I am NOT some sort of slob. And I keep things tidy, just so I can find stuff. Good, I don't always dust, or wash dishes if I am in a hurry, sue me why dont'cha. As if I don't have ENOUGH on my plate right now, just bring on the rest, hey...

And the rest of my neighborhood have been watching me closely these last months. I was terribly ill, and didn't know WHY. And would go out unshaved, not well combed, and scared the fucking horses, the idiots. oooh... Ren is skeerry.... Yup. I'm a fucking terra. Yes Sir, yes Ma'am. I'm your worst fucking nightmare, oh yeah. Well FUCK THAT. (oooo... Lightning just highlighted that line. Nice. I guess we are in for a thunderstorm again. We have been having them for days, but I sleep through them. Peter maintains that I would sleep through the end of the world and wouldn't notice. He is probably right.)

Whatever, I mind my own business. This stuff makes me sicker than I already am.

So they should just go FUCK themselves. And they should leave me way the fuck alone. I get very upset when people charge into my personsal life and want to take over. I really do....

As to Peter.... I think he wants the new place without my having pushed him. If so, he moves in August.

As to me, am just dancing in the air... without a trapeze.

Christ, how much FUN can you have, hey?

Oh gawd, oh fuck, lightenting just outside my house, hey

I normally SLEEP through thunderstorms. Really. The world could end and I wouldn't know about it....

Am not your usual 'spanner' (watcher). Just had to close the kitchen winder a bit. It started hailing. Now THAT is something I just can NOT get used to....

Ahh, forget it, it will go by. (just thundered outside my house... GO Home, you sucker! NOT INTERESTED.)

Tja,

I ran into someone today. She was from my past, way past. A very lovely lady named Anica. The 'c' is a k when you pronounce it, and she was from Slovenia, when Yugoslavia was one country. She was this little stick in the wind when I met her thirty one years ago. And her guy treated her like a horrible person, and I KNOW that she had to sleep in the park a few times. But she bore him a son, and since then she is the queen of Slovnia, believe me. That is not a moral judgement, it is how it IS.

It did my heart so good to see her so happy today, and to realise that she actually likes me.
So it looks like there is life after retirement. She is beautiful.

We are the same age.

Later I got a call from my former boss. It wasn't what I would call a happy call. Nope.

Tja. that is life, up and down....

Oh dear.....

Last nite was the first half of the semi-finals in soccer. Germany vs. Turkey. Germany won, 3 to 2. What a tragedy. The Turks played brilliantly, the Germans not so much. But got lucky at the last minute.

That is the game, hey.....

But what was 'dangerous'.... There are over 2 million Turks who live in Germany. Really. And you would 'expect' that you would have riots in the streets if they lost. Not so. They just think they 'half-won' because Germany is their home too.

They can be the most generous, wonderful people you could ever run into.

And fair losers? There were never any better, and all I can say is 'respect'. and Bravo.

And sorry they lost.

Did I mention our local media sucks?

Well, it really does.

Last nite I was over at my neighbors, googling for missing and displaced persons, because his English is nearly nil. And around 11 pm there was such a cheering and hollering out on the square. The last game of the quarter finals in the soccer championships had ended. Whoever won has to go into the semi finals against the big-mouthed Germans, and it was Turkey vs. Croatia. So I asked Werner for a break so I could check the local paper on-line and see who won. (He detests soccer.) Opened a new tab, and there it was, zero-zero, they went over-time, 11 meter goal kicks. Knock out round. And the paper said Croatia won, 1:0.

I was sort of disappointed. And I said, 'Man, the Croats make the Turks sound like Orfins in comparison.' What a bunch of noise. And little car corsos with honking concerts and people ruining their vocal cords.

Whatever. This morning, got up to do my weekend chores, was concentrated for a change, didn't lose my keys, and all. Turned on the tee-vee, and whaddaya know. They got it wrong. TURKEY won. I was delighted. (Ever notice how I somehow always support the underdogs? Hmmm.....)

That semi-final game is gonna be very very tense. Germany has millions of Turks in the country. The team isn't as skilled, maybe, but always find their heart and win at the last possible minute. They have the pluck to do it. And I hope they do. The Germans won't recover for another 36 years. They are already shitting their collective pantses, yes, Preciousses....

Today I got a Befund, a diagnosis from a doctor I saw in March. Herrgottnochmal, fix! I'm supposed to present this to the pension people. If you were to see it you would be afraid of me, very afraid. Extremely depressive was just the beginning. Gawww, what did they DO to me, hey? This is all so perverse, I am absolutely SPEECHLESS.

Need to digest it.

Sabotage.... plain and simple. Just when you think

you can trust people, and fucking doctors, you get blind-sided. In February, I was told I have to take a medication, for six months. I was trusting and so miserable, I took it.

It has been the worst five months of my life health-wise. Good, I had a sort of nervous breakdown, but I think the med made it worse. And it got even worse. The last month or so am like a bloody zombie, forget everything, and so on. I should have KNOWN those first two and a half months that hardly keeping anything down wasn't exactly ok. Chalked it up to nerves. But did ask if the med was responsible, and was told, oh, no, that wouldn't do that..... right.

And the past two weeks, oh wow. You NEVER want to see someone with a constantly running nose and from one moment to the next, you can't get any air, and then wretch and wretch, and nothing comes out, because there is nothing in your stomach.

And it sounds to others as if you are trying to just get rid of your inner organs.

And then you have to sit still for a good half hour because you are one tremblor of an earthquake, and can't even write your name if your life depended on it.

And then it goes away, for a while....

And you never know when it is going to hit you, that is the bad thing. Which is why I hardly leave the house.

Well, two days ago, I forgot to take that pill, and it was barf-free. Yesterday I took one, and got three attacks, mostly in private. Today, I didn't, and feel good for a change. Not super, but better than in weeks. My chest isn't constricted-feeling, my stomach stopped feeling horrible, and I can breathe freely for a change.

So was that the plan? Medicate me into some sort of incompetent fool so I get a pension?

Words fucking fail, hey. And I am an idiot. Will see in a few days, but if things improve without my taking that shit, someone is going to be very sorry.... because what I went through these pase five months is indescribable.

And I only found out last week that that medication is only supposed to be prescribed by one of the chief doctors of the health insurance company. It wasn't.

Yesterday there was something on the tv that woke me up to what is wrong.

But as I said, we shall see. Too early to tell. But think I am on track.

Perfidious.

Someone stole five months of my life.

OOO ooo... Snoopy dance, Snoppy dance, joy...

Just when you think that mankind has become a base bunch of idjits, you learn you were wrong.

I lost my keys on Saturday. Long story. It was one big bunch of keys, Preciousses, nine in all. I asked everywhere while shopping. It was traumatic, because the keys are for two houses. And it cost a pretty penny just to get back into my own apartment.

But the worst thing was I had lost the 'Anhänger', you know, the thing that you have to hold them all together. With the key ring. That had immense sentimental value to me, was unique, and was irreplaceable. From someone who loved me very much. I was very upset.

I asked EVERYWHERE, I had been. But forgot I had been to two tobacconists that morning. So my neighbour lent me his for the door to the square yesterday, and I ordered a duplicate. I couldnt get it without presenting a passport, and a registration of where I live. And itwas expensive.

So today, just when I had given up, I went into the other tobacconists shop. In the afternoons, there is a young lady there who is just super. Mid-twenties, very nice. She knows what you smoke after the second time you were there, and just automatically grabs for what you want before you open your mouf. And they have a hell of a lot of traffic, out there on the square, next to the market. Prices went up so badly last year I switched to cheaper. A brand called Main. And she said, 'Every time I sell this, I have to think of Steven King.' And yes, she knew that Maine has an e at the end.

Shorter RenB: We have exchanged many pleasantries over the past years, if short. They have much traffic and there is little time.

So I went in on my way home today, just desolated about what other costs are going to come of my forgetfulness, and she was completely concerned. 'Are these your keys?' And they were. I had competely forgotten that I had been in there to get Peter his local version of your 'TV Guide', and left them on the counter. (Only our versions of TV Guide has naked ladies in it. One of my friends was shocked, I tell you SCHOCKED. He wished his wife could see our depravation, so I said, 'Well take it back with you, the new one is out tomorrow.' And he said, Can I get through immigration with this? And I said, 'How the fuck do I know? Haven't been there in a decade.' )

Whatever, that little lady gets flowers, and chocolates and a bottle of champagne tomorrow. And that isn't even expensive in comparison to what she helped me save.

And people are often not so bad as you think.

Just sayin'

Snoopy Dance!!!!!!!

So you win again, you win again, you LOSER....

That is what I woke up to. Couldn't get a channel to watch the game. So turned on the local radio, fell asleep and that is the first thing I woke up to.

Leave it to Austrians to give you some lip, hey.

It was an honourable defeat. They got one goal, we didn't, so they played very well, but we're knocked out of the games.

They kept saying they were going to 'kill us 5 to 1'. Uh-huh.....

Chuzpe.

For the rest of it, not interested. I saw my hair-cutter Enver on the square this morning. He is from Turkey, and I congratulated him on the Turkish's team winning the night before. 'Nice game,' I said. 'Well played.' He was taken aback. 'You mean football?' And I said 'yes, of course. Congratulations.'

He isn't used to people being fair and gentlemanly to him. Freaked him out.

The best win. And you respect that. Ours wasn't, but they at least showed them we aren't dish rags.

And the bloody Germans will continue to look down on us forever.

Eeeeewwwww.

What can you do, hey.

Today is the Hammer.....

For days, the German and Austria media have been off the charts for insults to one another on this World Cup game, which is why I hate them. And tonight we see who is the better team. It's a psycho war. Who can set the other team off balance. I just hope we can give Germany a couple of slaps in the face.

So yes, tonight is the night. If we cream the big-mouthed Germans, they won't forgive us. Vienna doesn't just have the stadium full. Forty thousand German fans fell into the city today. They have HUGE live screen transmitions all over the place, and there are gonna be 200 000 people out there, tanked up with beer and screaming. It is awful, believe me.

But I hope ours just kick their asses. They'll be traumatised for another thirty years.

But as the saying goes, 'if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.' We will see.

And the best will win, and if we do, Germany goes home.

Oh, I so hope we do.

And I do not care about the rest. I saw my barber Enver this morning, and he greeted me heartilly out on the square, and I said, 'Oh, congratulations on the outcome of the games last night.' Turkey won over the Czechs. And the latter play dirty. And he said, you mean the soccer? ' And I said, 'oh yes, that second half was one fine game. How nice.' And he 'beamed' at me.

(I'd been translating some stuff for my neighbor, and his window faces the square. He had the window open, and all of a sudden there was this hullabaloo out there, people yelling out of cars, flags waving on them, they got into the fourth finals, and the Turks won over the Czechs. It was awesome. And honking like after weddings, when they are only going to be later divorces. With flags waving on the cars and the fans yelling out the windows.) But now it comes....

Austria as little brother with only 8 million people against big brother Germany with 80 million.

Oh how Í sincerely hope that we kick them out of them into oblivion. It is the only game that interests me, and the media has been despicable.

We will most likely lose... but I hope they fuck them over anyway with a goal or two.

Either way, they get humiliated....

And I WILL LIKE IT.

So bring it on, youse guys. Am sick of the insults.

Show us your Macho thing, and how you go into Mimosa mode.

And shit your pants, hey...

And to rinse and repeat, this is going to be the only game that interests me, because the press is so insulting and dirty, you could barf. And it is REALLy dirty....

Soon to begin... Oh my....

I wish my team does well.

I had to swallow enough When I was poor, and didn't know how to protect myself.

OMG... it's Father's Day

He is wishing for vixens to come in riding on white horses and ravish him.

Which is pretty kinky and fun for a nonagenerian... Don't you think?

So, Dad, here's to your day, and I hope there will be more....

'Me ancient 'un', as a Dickens character used to say.

My father often plays his cards very close to his chest. But from my earliest memories on, he was always kind and loving. I cannot remember one single moment where he lost his temper, (unlike me), or raised his voice. He has always been a constant and very patient man, and I am sure some of my life choices weren't always what he wanted for me, but I have never heard a word of reproach from him, and I'm sure it wasn't easy for him, and how he felt inside.

I have always tried to be a little like him, as much as I could.

So, my progenitor: we have come a long way together, hurtling along on this rock circling the sun. (And I know you are going to read this....) I know I could have sent some oversentimental card to your mailbox. But I want the world to know how proud I am of my Dad. Know that I love you, and am thankful. Few people have such luck to have one like you.

And I hope you get some vixens on white horses, yes I do wholeheartedly.

oh no. oh no... oh no...

Some weeks hit you like a sledge hammer on the head. You get all sorts of mishaps, people you loved died, and were buried without you able to be there....

But today I learned that my most favorite uncle is in hospital, and they won't treat him till they get PAPER Work done, HELLO? What happened to the hypocritacal Oath over there, and that typo was intentional, believe me. It makes my blood boil just to hear of it.

This uncle is so special to me. My mom told me some kids threw stones at him when he was little, and he slowly went deaf. But before he did, his passion was for classical music. He had cancer and had to have a side-outlet. But he loved his music, and he TAUGHT me how to listen. I would never have been able to function here, and been a dumb uneducated Ami.

And gawwwd, what concerts I heard and delighted in.

One of my cousins is going to see he gets the right care.

What a week, hey....

Oh oh, am gonna have to get out my boxing gloves, oh Yes

Concerning the World Cup soccer games, of course.....

Even Peter's 93 year old aunt watches, and mailed me about them yesterday. Uh-huh. I had to be very very polite, believe me. Because this is The Superbowl raised to the tenth power, and I am so not joking. I've never followed soccer much, but when it happens every two years, you simply can't avoid it, whether tee-vee news, or papers, or people you talk to on the street. And you must at least know what is going on.

This year, Austria is co-hosting the games with Switzerland. The Swiss already got knocked out of the games in the quarter finals, which aren't over yet. And CNN and the media in Germany were all, pooh-poohAustria is the weakest team in the league, but WTF, they're co-hosting it so wish them luck.

Not any more, hey....

Well, Germany really messed up with Croatia yesterday, and are FREAKED, I tell you, absoutely Freaked! Because they have this attitude, and a very bad superiortity complex. Or the press does, better said.... And they have to play against Austria in Vienna, of all places. On Monday. And they have to get at least one goal more than we do or they get eliminated from the games. What joy.

Peter was doing Snoopy dances in his wheelchair this morning. Schadenfreude? That is an understatement although he also never regularly follows soccer.

There is a historic context for all this. In the late Seventies we had the same situation. I hadn't paid much attention to it at the time, but walked into town one evening to go to work. It was a complete ghost town, no one on the street, but all the windows open and televisions blaring. And twice everybody started screaming, and yelling and waving out the windows, and dancing on balconies, and I thought, 'What in gawd's name is going ON here?' And there was this famous yell: 'GOAL!! GOAL!! GOAL!!! 'i werd narrisch' (I'm going crazy....) The Austrians eliminated the Germans from the quarter finals in Cordoba.

Peter had to give me a crash course in what was going on. Our place was full of Germans. It has been a never-healing wound on their soul ever since, believe me. And no, I don't think the Austrians won that year, but it's been a badge of honour for Austrian soccer players ever since.

The German news is ratcheting it up today. (Whine, whine.... Hansi Krankl said 'it's going to be like Cordoba.' They still have a phobia after so many years? ''How is it going to affect our boys, and putting on psychological pressure?' Hey, since when did the national German soccer team get Mimosa genes? Gimme a break.)

Get a backbone or something....

And just to be clear.... I don't understand soccer rules. And I hate the nationalistic thing that goes with it, all the flags and the drunken unruly mobs, and the flag waving and so on. But I so wish that our team just give them a little slap on the cheek, and put them in their place for a while.

Not to much to ask, I think. And then they can hate us for another thirty years. Snoopy dance. We'll see Monday.

Update: One of their best players got the red card yesterday, and can't play on Monday, he threw a player to the ground, purposely. Dyes his hair white-blonde, he does. I wouldn't want to have his name. Schweinberger. A Schwein is a pig. His fans call him 'Schweindi' 'piggy'. Now THAT is something to be proud of.... Or not?

I will never understand them., Nevah.

Na ja, back to bed. My head hurts, and I want to see the German journalists heads explode. That would be Sooooo nice...

Well, well... another odd 24 hours, and I got my first black eye ever

I look like a friggin' racoon or a rowdy. And no, no one hit me. I am your absolute, total klutz. If there is anything that goes one centimeter above the pavement, you can be sure I'm going to find it and trip over it. It's famous among those who know me well, and have often joked, if I had been born a girl, they should have named me 'Grace'. Not. So I was hurrying to get supper before the supermarket closed, tripped on the curbstone because I was hurrying, and fell full out on the sidewalk, splat. My glasses flew, and that was the worst thing about it, because without them I am blind. Scraped my elbow, and three people were all concerned, asking if I were ok, and I said, 'Yes, thank you. Thank you.' And thought to myself, 'you bloody idiot, want to break a hip and die?'

So I thought I got off with just a scrape on the elbow, you see...

This morning, I had a lot of bureaucratic things to do. Among them, the unemployment office. I felt crappy, and just put on my NY City OPERA tee-shirt. Black with white logo. I didn't notice anything when I shaved. Yesterday I found out that the union will provide me with financial help while I am unemployed. So I had to get some bank statements as to what they are paying me, and an official statement from the unemployment office as to since when I have been unemployed. I've paid my dues for over thirty years, so now they do something for me for a change.

Then I checked in with Elke for a couple of minutes, and she was looking at me oddly.

I couldn't figure out why.

Then I went to the pension place, and the guy in the reception ALSO looked at me oddly, but he couldn't reach the guy who would know if the Americans had finally responded.

So then I had my 'date' with my new advisor. She turned out to be very, very cool. I think she likes my sense of humour, and that is really not for everyone. 'So you're waiting.' 'Yes, they told me that the Amis really take their time about it, and I am PURPOSELY leaving out some very negative adjectives.'

Click.

I gave her the reader's digest abridged version of what went down last year, including all the stuff with Peter. She was really disgusted.

With my company, I mean, not with me.

The ice broke, and I have never laughed so much or so hard during a bureaucratic meeting. Out loud, even. At one point I said, well working in my job, you learn things that you didn't even know EXISTED. Or wanted to know, for that matter.... She fell apart.

'So you stayed in Austria because you fell in love, and then he dumped you.' 'It was a lot more than that, but you know men.... basically pigs...'

We laughed so hard....

I have to go back in October, as she is going for a three week rehab wellness thing, and then three weeks up on an Alm, in Carynthia. An Alm is a meadow on a mountanside, way the fuck up there, and there are cow and sheep-herders, and they make milk and cheese. Sounds very nice.

Ladies really try to get in the last word, and normally they do. She said, 'And when it rains we stay inside and I'm gonna tie my guy to the bed, and take my pleasure.'

Spitless.

But I got the exit word, hey. 'You SEE? That is exactly what I never wanted to know!'

We just busted out laughing.

Hey, thirty years ago, if you had anything whatsoever to do with these government people, they were so hostile you kept your bloody Mouf shut. Amazing.

And I walked, and bought some groceries for lunch. And Peter goes all patriarchal on me and wants to know who hit me. Because I have a black eye. So that is why they were all looking at me oddly. It seems to have developed over the morning, instead of last night.

Late last night, I learned of a death in my family that hurt me. But that is for another post. Life goes on, etc.

oooo.... Somebody's got one hell of a crush and it isn't me

Was just out to get cigarettes. At four-thirty in the a.m. It was already light, which must mean we are in June. On our latitude/longitude, it starts to dawn at three a.m. standard time, in other words, which has always been a source of wonderment to me. Birds chirping away.... Odd.

Somebody put up new posters out on the square. A new cocktail-music bar to open downtown, on June 18th, startling graphically. Orange on black background. The Obama Bar! Talk about 'overnight fame'. The link is in the title, haven't clicked through it yet. But the rubric 'Rent Obama' sort of jars on the nerves, if you ask me. (Yeah, I know, you didn't ask me...). I'd have gone with 'Rent an Event'. Oh well... Maybe I'll send them an e-mail. 'Rent' has some un-good connotations....

The link is in the title.

Oh.my. gawd....

It is Monday, so it was bank day. Which means I have to get Peter OUT of the house, and his bloody neighbors weren't home, so I had to do it myself. He 'used' to be six-foot two and weighs about one hundred six Kilos even without his missing leg. I am five foot nine, and about 150 pounds. Or close to 80 Kilos.

Did you ever see 'the dying swan' at he ballet? Pretty much sums it up.

But I DID it. Hooray for me.

And I still feel like shit.

So I wheeled him into town, as usual. This place keeps saying, that the town is hadicapped friendly. Uh-huh. The only curbs that are good for wheelchairs are meant for bicyclers, and you have to know where they are.

So we went to the bloody bank.

There is a very personable 'greeter' there. He sets everything in motion. And he has a killer sense of humour. Today he was totally stressed. And he mislaid Peter's ATM card, and didn't give it back to him.

And they couldn't find it.

He was so fucked up over that, he looked like a Dachshund who inadvertantly pissed on your best carpet.

But no. I can understand it....

This afternoon, Sabine, his bank lady, called me on my cell phone, and asked for him. So we talked. She couldn't get him on his normal phone, so she called me.

It was oh-ful.

Tja, there are days you feel you shouldn't get out of bed, but there are otherdays when you can DO domething when you least expect it......

Maybe I did something good today, but am not certain.

Oh je, here we go again....

The world cup soccer games began yesterday. Austria and Switzerland are hosting them. The Germans are horrible, as per usual. In the sense that they think they are sooooo wonderful. They get on everyone's nerves.

So time to turn off the tee-vee, and go underground. People here go nuts over these games, and Somebody or other shot a couple of goals this evening, and all of a sudden there was a hell of a hullabaloo out on the streets.

The Germans won over Poland tonight. So here we go again.... Back to dvd's. I hate the whole nationalistic thing, and the drunken mobs who growl out their battle songs and can't carry a tune, and then and go wild in the streets after a game.

And they all run around waving their flags.

Gimme a break.

Well, just FUCK me raw witrh a flavour straw,,,,,

As we potty-mouthed kids used to say in the Sixties.

We had no idea what it MEANT, but it was just a saying when you got fully knocked down inside by something.

And it came back to me tonight after reading that Hillary is only suspending her canderature.

I have a mess of adjectives I will NOT use this evening, but 'vindictive' is uppermost in my mind.

I've spent all afternoon trying to help a neighbor find his son. A little five year old boy who disappeard with his Mom in Ethiopia. It was nerve-wrenching for me. 'We have a trace, but it is not certain that it will be good.' The guy needs my English to write what he needs. I did what I could...

It was emotionally draining, believe me.

The guy loves his son. He was a mercenary.

Which brings us round again to 'that woman'. No. Just..... no...

Oh my, I just had a 'moment' out on the square....

slept this afternoon, very much rain, and hurried over to the tobacconist and the supermarket before they closed.

Out on the square, there were bunches of kids. Maybe eight or nine years old. Unusual. They cheered me up, they looked so funny. (No, not what you think, I find children little wonderworks of non-predjudicial tiny persons who can come up with the most awesome explanations that explain things they do not understand. No one taught them to hate, in other words.)

So there was this little group on the corner going to the tobacconist, and several kids went nuts over a husky, gorgeous young dog, the owner was a guy my age had and was waiting to cross the street. It was one of the most perfect dogs I have ever seen, young, and he let the kids pet him, and the old guy just smiled hey... And I thought, 'Am I in the right city, or did I get transported to somewhere else?'

Oldies usually aren't so nice.

Came back across the intersection, and then it happened, going to the supermarket. Three other little kids were in a very agitated conversation, you see.

Now what all these children have in common is the same haircut. They look like little roosters. Good gracious, if I had come home from the barber's looking like that, my folks would have sued him. The sides are all cut short, and the top is stiffed up with gel, and some of them have longer hair in the back of the head, or get blonde streaks in it.

When I just think about how my 'rents reacted if you tried to look like a Beatle.. Oh my...

Or a Jesuit telling you were sick because your hair was too long, whomI threw out of the hospital room.

But that isn't 'the moment'. There was a lady who crossed the intersection with me. In a Tschador, as we say, completely covered. From the Middle East, and I really don't care where from. But she found the little roosters funny, and we were on the same wave-length. And we LOOKED at one another, and laughed quietly. Twice. Her eyes were so pretty and vivacious....

We are all a part of humanity, connected.

I get so tired of people and their predjudices.

It was only a 'moment'.

But it was very nice. To connect with humanity---

Maybe I should go out more....

Am clueless.....

So O' Bambi gets the delegates he needs, and the sHill says she's staying in, and doesn't concede. If she had, she could have quit with dignity and grace and united the party.

The press and tee-vee here seem to be fixated on her and think she still has a chance. Propaganda.

Disgusting.

Good luck with McSame....

Chuzpe...

was once defined as murdering your parents, and then throwing yourself on the mercy of the court because you are an orphan.

It is three thirty in the am, and I have a brain fart, can't remember who said that originally.....

But it came to mind yesterday morning watching Hillary's speech in Puerto Rico. (And why should their votes count if they aren't an official state, but a 'protectorate'. Or Tahiti, for that matter? That is confusing.... Just sayin'.... Can we say 'desperation' here?)

But as it turns out.... Little Scotty Mclellan has become a three-day wonder on the news circuits. He was the most ineffectual person I have ever seen, bar Dana Perino, the ditz.... I often wonder how far lower they can put the bars, and insult people's intelligence.

But if you boil the essential message that that pudgy little guy has to say, all that gets left is, 'I lied to you, and you SWALLOWED it' (as the guy who told you you were hot and let you fellate him said), pushing the blame on the journalists. But it isn't that simple. The so-called 'journalists' are just Yuppie tools. And they fellate to get the 'gravy'.

From what I have seen so far, some are rushing to protect their not-so-pristine reputations. Bill O's head is exploding, and the sooner the better.... It is fun to watch. Now where did I hide the potato chips?????

But no. Better leave them. If there was ever a non-story, this one would get some prize of the year, and it isn't even half over yet.

Chuzpe.

There are other things going on in the world....

But no, the internets are panting about the so-called 'revelations' of 'little' pudgy Scotty McLellan.

Whoo, boy howdy.

What he had to say is what intelligent people have known for years.

He was WORSE than that airhead, Dana Perrino.

I'll give him credit for trying to bust the Dumbya bubble, but to be treated as if he had a set of balls after deluding the nation for over five years isn't a track record.

It's a diversion.

And little Scotty is your typical case of closet queen who got kicked out of the club, and is just playing the victim card. (It is just my gaydar... don't mind me.)

'I didn't know'. quasi, 'the scales fell from my eyes by the TONS.'

Uh-uh. He was close to Dumbya when he was governor of Texas. He knew how vindictive and sadistic he was....

And the press is just spinning a new meme that in the end effect, doesn't mean a thing.

Little Scotty is a slime-ball, and will remain so.

And meanwhile, there is a hell of a lot going on in the world that needs attention.

The Wicked Witch of the North...

Have been busy all week with visitors, quasi-familial stuff. So I didn't have much time to look around and see what was going on. It was all very nice, and they are interesting folks... and politically interested in what goes on in the world, and how US politics affects us all. And a few days ago, I remarked that I hadn't seen such a dirty primary since 1968. And expressed my fear that if this one keeps going on as it has, the convention in August is going to make the one in Chicago look like a block party with dancing and grill parties.

Now that they have gone back to Germany, I checked my usual blogs. So the Shill referenced the RFK assassination, and in the back of her head, it is the justification for staying in the race, because CA is the last primary in June. Turns out she is very ill, in my estimation. Because she has used this 'excuse' three times before, months ago. Wishful thinking on her part? Bad advice from her team? I found it devastating.

It is stomach-turning, as is so much of her campaign.

It is as if she is thinking, 'well, if they take him out, you will need ME. And I get what I am entitled to.'

Gawwd...

We have all seen 'The Wizard of OZ'. I always wondered. There was the Wicked witch of the West, and the Good witch of the East.... And I wondered, ... what about the North and South?
Well, now we know... The sHill is the wicked witch of the North. Now we need a good one from the South.

Just sayin'

There are days....

When everything good you try to do goes wrong.

This was one of them.

For weeks now, Peter has been against having his aunt visit. So HOW was I supposed to tell a ninety year old lady that her favorite nephew doesn't want to see her? I even invited her and her daughters to go out to eat this week. He doesn't want to go.

He cried all morning. Swell.

I was supposed to go over to their hotel this evening, and he got me so worked up, I threw up all afternoon. I was so sick that I had to call it off.

But if Peter is stubborn, his aunt is a virtual steam-roller. I said I have to take him downtown tomorrow, and got the order to do a command performance at the Café Sacher at ten-thirty.

Scheiße.

So I had to go over and tell Peter because his phone is capped. And then I laid down the BIG DADDY number. So the plan for tomorrow is MADE, and if he gives me one ounce of trouble, I am going to go nuclear.

I really and truly hope that if I get a stroke, it will be a big one and I drop dead, because I NEVER want to get to where he is right now....

Just when you think you did your research.....

Turns out it wasn't enough.

Many years ago, I began to write a murder mystery for the best friend I ever had. He was dying.

It was based on a scandal that happened here. It involved the upper crust of the city's 'HIGH' society. I had met many of the protagonists personally. I was the trophy person at many a party... 'look at this AMI I picked up!' Oh yes it was fairly oh-ful. But I often paid them back for their vulgarity with tinly veiled sarcasm. And the scandal involved some fairly kinky things I had never even HEARD of. And never really understood.

So some months ago, I was trying to re-construct it and finish it, for Mark's sake. (Good, grief, I was sending ten pages a day per airmail to California, and hoping to finish it in time. 'Write me a murder mystery,' he said. He was the brother I had wished I had had. And I loved him very much.)

Well, it involved a lot of characters, and Larry Kramer's 'Faggots' had just come out and I admired the structure. So I went with it. Short takes that you pull together into one whole cloth. Far more difficult than I had imagined.

Mark died after I had finished the fifth chapter, and I was so devastated, I stopped writing for nearly twenty years. I was just speechless. He was only thirty years old. He believed I had talent and potential.

Whatever, as above, I started re-reading the ms. It isn't so bad. But I realised that I did not understand some basic things and so I went 'researching' one day at home and made a couple of contacts with people who gave me some background on what I wanted to know. It involved an SM site. They were both nice and gave me what I needed to know. And in case you are wondering, one of the first rules in creative writing courses is: write about what you KNOW. One day, one of them messaged me, and I called it up at work and forgot to delete the address in Firefox. So my colleague saw the site, and fucking freaked out. He was shocked, I tell you, SHOCKED.

He said, 'PLEASE don't tell me you run around in leather stuff on your days off...' (Which he obviously thought absurd....)

And my inner gremlin rubbed his hands in pure glee. That he would think that after knowing me nearly twenty years was hilarious for me. So I played 'evasive', and laughed my ass off, inside.
And just to be clear---never have, never will. NOT interested.

Otherwise, I do not care what consenting adults do.

But the other day, I got a mail. It was so off the charts for anything I have EVER seen, I blanched. Seems I only scratched the surface. It involved an unspeakable Yahoo group, and now I understand less than I ever did before.

But am NOT going to go there.

Some people seemingly get so fucked up and lack so much self-esteem... words fail.

But I don't need that for my project.

I lost it at the Supermarket....

This will have to be a day and night post. The former being the one below.

I was so drag-assed tired, I slept most of the afternoon, and as below, if I get up, I'm the Grinch in capital letters. So I got my evening ration of snigarrettes, and went to get something to eat at the supermarket, and I HATE supermarkets.

There was this absolutely clueless mother with two kids, the youngest being in the cart. And clamouring for attention, and his mother just ignored him. This kid looked like a Raffael painting, but hat the most devastating loud voice I have EVER heard. 'Mamma! Mamma!' It fucking went on and on and she didn't do anything. It wasn't the kid's fault, but he really got on my nerves. They were two people ahead of me in line, and I was clenching by that time.

And she was still around the register when my stuff came up and haggling with the little hobbit of a cashier when I was supposed to pay, and my nerves were so frazzled, I did an Annti. Looked right and yelled, 'SHADDUP! You have GOT to be the WORST child in this CITY right now. (And to his mother) And wipe his nose, it is disgusting.' All in English, of course, I need time to get into my German if I just got up.

The bloody WORLD stood still, hey. The hobbit asked, 'Cash or bank card?' Frightened. I said, 'Card, thenk you....' And I marched.

I was already sorry for my outburst, but that had to be the most obnoxious child I have ever encountered, and it wasn't his fault. His mother is a ditz. These freakin peeps who think their kid is SO wonderful, and let them run wild without setting a border they should not cross. And think everyone around them should find them super-parents. It never works.

So I lost it at the supermarket.

Go figure.

WHERE in the world have we gotten to?

This is just a fresh impression, but it made me wonder greatly.

I got up, as per usual, and was grinch-like, as per usual, and running on empty at home. So I went and got cigarettes, and then crossed the big intersection to go to the supermarket and get some breakfast that would turn me into some semblance of a human being, you know? Beautiful morning, by the way.....

So am at the next one waiting to get over to the supermarket, and this little girl, maybe five years old, just looked at me.... and the grinch went away, she was that charming. So I melted and smiled and said, 'Hey, hallo...'

Whereupon she punched her father's arm and made him look at me. And I said, 'All I said was 'hallo'...' And he said, 'Thank you'. Gorgeous man, btw.

And that 'Thank you' really threw me for a loop. I was so taken aback that I didn't have the time to ask 'WHY?'. Because the light changed and we went our separate ways.

To clarify, both father and daughter are from Africa.

And of course I know why... but at the moment it startled me into waking up. He is used to being invisible, as well as that lovely child. And just because I acknowleged her being in our world made him thank me. I never thought that I would get so into race issues on this blog, but all it takes is a multi-culti neighborhood, and you get along with your neighbors, hey. And I look at people, and some of them are just beautiful. Their souls shine through their eyes.

So where are we going with all this, huh?

That poor man, thanking me for being myself. And I hate the people who made his experience so horrible that he would think to do that.

So sick, hey....

Just when you think things are finally going to quiet down in the foreign press

After all the hullabaloo about the guy who kept his daughter imprisoned for 24 years and sired seven children with her.... we get us an axe murderer over Mother's Day weekend. I thought that was a US specialty, and had never heard of it happening here before. (They mostly shoot each other, or throw someone off of six floor balconies. Or knife someone. But AXES? WTF?)

Scuttlebutt has it that the guy is Austrian, but of foreign descent, and the local news went way out of their way to emphasize that he has 'an academic degree'. Uh-Huh...

So, just the facts, as they used to say on Dragnet. The perp kills his wife and young daughter in their sleep, fairly viciously. And then he takes his nifty axe, and drives all the way to Linz, where he does in his parents. Then he goes to some hole in the wall just outside that city, and axes his father-in-law. THEN, Preciousess, he calmly drives back to Vienna and turns himself into the police.

Motive? He had a PR agency, and ran up a debt of EUR 300,000, and he didn't want them to experience him being shamed. (WHAAA?)

And that alone, if it is true, seems to cooberate the scuttlebutt. An Austrian wouldn't have done that. The perp would have shot himself, or jumped, to hell with the family being shamed....

Just sayin'

So I guess it will be another week of German TV pointing their smudged and bloody fingers at us, and insinuating how 'bad' we are, and get into feeding frenzy mode. I am SO glad I get my news on the intertubes....

I only see the tee-vee stuff at lunch time when I am feeding Peter.

And then I lose my appetite....

Whelp, just when you think you thought you 'knew' someone...

it turns out you did not.

One should be very careful with what they 'think' another person is like.

This concerns the guy who many years ago joined the French Foreign Legion.

It has been an odd day.

He had asked me a few days ago to help him find his soon to be six year old son, because the letters and the money he was sending was 'inconnu' (not known, moved...) He is escaping again in August to another place in Africa, and asked me to help him find him per pc. So today, we got down to it.

Thanks to his advisories, I found a place, and sent them a mail with all the perinent infos. It was sort of heart-breaking.

When I first got there, R. was out of it, and didn't keep a promise----yet again.

W. was showing me his dating site, and R. was off the charts for what was I looking at women for? Whaa? Women can be pretty. Gawd, is he dense. Doesn't he know about bi now, gay later? Idjit.

So I pulled up one of the ones on my site, clicked on the profile, and said, 'Oh, LOOK, R.! A six pack to DIE for! And check out that basket!' eeeewww.

That shut him up.

(Ja, I can be acid when it calls for it....)

R. left. Good so. I spent three hours trying to tune W's computer. I think he has a long-term case of PTSD. After all the places he has been, it wouldn't surprise me.

The night I met him, I thought he would rip me apart, just for being a former American.

But he didn't.

He is very very cool. But always inward looking. And nice and never lets out what is really bothering him.

If I can have just a pinch of success in helping him find his son, that will be wonderful.

We talked for a long time.

He broke my heart.

Just when you think you have it all in your brain,

You get a brain fart.

And it takes you two whole days to 'remember' that Pfingsten is Pentacost. And when a friend helps you out with it, it is almost already over and you remembered.

It is one of the big double holidays here. Sunday AND Monday are holidays, which means I had to buy groceries for three days before the stores shut down on Saturday.

Which is stress that I do not need.

And why the hell do they keep this? People with money book short trips to exotic places, the ones who decide to drive somewhere get stuck in traffic, miles long. Like lemmings.

And the gas prices go up. And if you all think the prices there are criminal, you have never driven in Europe. The price per gallon is two and one half times more expensive than there, so just stop whining, and do NOT tell me it is about supply and demand.....

It is eye-gouging.

We have ALWAYS been screwed on that.

Peter is so depressive, I don't know what to do. I have never seen anyone cry during comedies.

Case in point: I got 'I know pronounce you 'Chuck and Larry' for Sunday. With Adam Sandler and Kevin James. Peter loves 'King of Queens', and I don't particularly care for either of them. It got so-so reviews. So I wasn't expecting anything. It was so-so, and at least they left the adolescent humour out of it. Mostly.... But there were moments in it that were good, and very funny. And of COURSE they aren't gay, but get a civil marriage for health insurance.

But looking at the sub-text, it was about male bonding and friendship, and that is SO fucked up.

And so hypocritical.

But at least both of the male protagonists held themselves back, and there were smiles.

Peter loves adolescent humour.

Ageing gets creepy.

Well, since it is Mother's Day....

And Pfingsten all at the same time.... Time to ruminate....

Pfingsten is the Catholic day you have to go to church on, a 'holy day of obligation', as one of my grandmothers used to say. It was sort of odd. Had something to do with firey tongues hovering over the apostle's heads, and they could understand strange languages.... Well, try as I might, I never understood the Turks across the street. It sounded like it had no consonants.

But Mother's Day, yeah, I can get into that. I had two. My biological mother, and my step-mother. And of the two, I loved the latter dearly. She prepared me for life, and she never made judgemental decisions. And I am so glad that I expressed my appreciation and gratitude before she slipped away from us and died. She was just awesome.

I never did that for my biological mother. She was divisive, judgemental, and a steam-roller of a person who left everyone flattened on the sidewalk. Sometimes I hate what she did. With a passion.

So I guess I was lucky. I got to pick and choose, you know?

It wasn't easy, no.

I regret not having connected with 'that woman' before she passed away. But I could never have thanked her for anything.

So if anyone has a Mom who does everything for you and loves you, you don't need flowers, or anything special. Just TELL her how thankful you are for all she did, and make it come from the bottom of your heart.

And if anyone knows how those tongues of fire really work, would love to know....

Just sayin'

Okay, beaurocacy SUCKS...

I got this letter today, I didn't present my passport and birth certificate to the pension people, and they were gonna terminate my application for a pension by May 22nd.

Well, the fact IS, Preciousesss... I did that weeks ago. I took the originals to the pension office, with photocopies, the guy checked them and passed them on to my file.

So I got on the horn, and whaddaya know, the 'lady' didn't understand what 'birth registration' means.

Right.

Well, we got that cleared up, at any rate..... This is all so draining.

Just when you think you got your mouf under control..

You slip.

Damage control... äääh. äääh, ääääh, äääh! Gawd....

Had a very nice talk yesterday with my almost 'in-law' in Frankfurt. She is ninety, and very beautiful. And about to visit in about two weeks with her two daughters. And likes me.

And it only took two words to drive her into complete shock: 'my appartment'.

And she said, 'WHAAAA?'

I'd thought she knew that I live alone since 2001. She was speechless, I tell you, speechless.

'I'm going to need some time to digest this', she kept saying.

Whereupon I had to come clean about his financial situation, and explain, explain, explain.... It was horrible.

I've been there every day since I moved out, and it caused me a mess of grief. But I was there.

Have sent two mails since, but no response. How could I have been so idiotic?

And all because of two innocent words... 'my appartment'.

And it wouldn't be my almost in-law when one of the first things she asked was, did he give me at least something for my place. He did. More than enough.

So today am kicking myself in the ass.

What fun.....

Oh well, a new day.... always the same, hey...

Did my rounds after getting up... Election results, and more of the same-old same-old...

Americablog maintains that Wesley Clark called the sHill and asked her to drop out of the race before she destroys the party completely. Not verified. The Kos people are trying to win over the Hillary supporters by 'making nice'. Good luck with that one, it was too venomous over there lately.

And then I went over to make Peter lunch. And he was FULL of the latest news he got from local tee-vee. Yup. Hillary is gonna win, and why do I like Obama so much, (I don't, am being pragmatic,) and pushed my buttons to the MAX. He loves getting me to the boiling point. One of these days, he is going to push it too far, I swear....

So.... in two weeks, I get a German invasion. Peter's Aunt Charlotte is flying in from Frankfurt----with or without her daughters. She is as stubborn as he is. She is ninety years old and resolute. I love her muchly. But a visit alone? God help us.

We got a call-back from social services after eight months. They found a tiny apt for Peter that he can handle, 42 spuare meters, and is handicapped equipped. It is available beginning in July, and the current people or person is on vacation, so we get to see it when? When Charlotte is in town. I'm going to have nightmares tonight. Guaranteed.

Just when you think you lost the overview on what is happening...

Some cool guy comes along and gives you the overview, and expresses what you were thinking anyway. With well-chosen words... (link in the title).

For anyone wondering, took a break, as I had some very personal issues to deal with.

Oh, I checked into the blogosphere every evening, but it was so discouraging, had no desire to comment on what I read. I would have just been repeating myself to no avail.

Instead, I went into escapism-land. Got the first half of the first season of 'Brothers and Sisters'. (Touchstone fucks over the consumer yet again. ) Only because Peter went ON about it when he was in assisted living. Have been having to deal with his depressive state for months now, and thought, what the hell....

Turns out, it isn't so escapist. Have only seen four episodes so far. The first two really did not knock my socks off. But then it got interesting. Will withhold further comment till I have seen it all. It may seem odd, but for years have often told Peter about outrageous things I see on the net that come from the far right, and he thought I was exaggerating. One of the daughters in this, Calista Flockhart, plays a right-wing mouthpiece on a television show. Laura Ingraham without the yelling. And for Peter, that was when the penny dropped, and he realised I hadn't been pulling his leg all this time....

Pretty sad, when it takes a Hollywood production to prove you right. What kind of trust is that? I might have a small kinky vein in me, but I could never make up something like what comes out of their collective polluted mouths.

Will be back....