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.