Mama Tomato

What did the Mama Tomato say to the Baby Tomato when he lagged behind?

Catch up…Catch up…

Okay.... I passed. I passed with 138.5 points out of 158 possible. They consider that a “2” or a B in American terms. I’ll take that, pass go and collect $200.00, please.

So now I’m in GKIII. And I have three weeks to learn what I would normally have four. Sparky and I are heading “Home for the Holidays” this year, a week before the end of the course. I’m taking a few after class lessons to learn what I need to to pass that test.

And, guess who’s my grammar teacher, the one that grades the tests? None other than Mr. Arschloch, the pedantic ass. When he walked in this morning all eyes turned towards me to see my reaction. I just smiled. After all, I’m already signed up for tutoring, so it doesn’t matter how much he screws up. My tutor will help with my homework and I’ll sail right through, right? At least that’s what I’m hoping.

It snowed yesterday and it was fabulous. My car didn’t like it so much. It took me 1 ½ hours to drive the 15 minutes to school. Actually Sparky drove and I was so glad because it was icy and we slid and it was overall pretty scary. When it was over, it seemed like such fun.

And Thanksgiving was great. I have to say, J is one of the best guests ever. And yes, Mausi, we would adopt him in a minute. I promise, next year, it’ll be a bigger bird.

Frank, the bird, was a bit small for our crowd, but did well enough. He came out all juicy. My step-mom suggested the brine method and it really is delish. I had to make more stuffing for Sparky and I. I mean really, what else are you going to do with all the leftover cranberry sauce if you don’t have stuffing? Leftovers are the best part.

After more than a year, we’ve got the painters back in to fix the big crack in our wall and all the other construction related errors. Our bathroom is being painted right now and its almost impossible for me to walk into a room with wet paint and not get it in my hair, on my face, my clothes, my ass. Sparky has closed off the bathroom and I have to be very, very careful. The first time I used it today when I got home from school, I could tell Sparky wanted to chaperone to make sure I left everything alone. Yesterday, I touched the spackle before it was dry and Sparky almost took my hand off. We had to call the painter back in to fix it.

I swear, construction is never really done. We’re waiting until the dead of winter for the floor guys. You know when its impossible to move furniture outside and impossible to walk in the house and it will take 5 weeks to complete. For some reason, coming in the summer was impossible. Autumn was full. Winter seems to be the best time for the fuckers who totally ruined my floors to come back. It will probably be in Feb when no handwerker worth his weight in bier works more than three days in total between all the holidays. Damn krauts.

Our replacement fridge is being delivered tomorrow after the eight-month waiting period. Don’t you know? If anything is under warrantee here in the land of service and hospitality, it’s a minimum of 8 month to get anything replaced. The delivery guy is afraid of our one flight of stairs. The original delivery guys had to walk across an 8-inch board because the slate in our hallway had just been laid the morning our American sized fridge was delivered. This new guy has it made. I wish he’d quit his whining. Oh, and let me say it again. Don’t use Bulthaup (Kutchen Schmiedel) for your kitchen. The design is fabu, the service sucks and when paying that kind of money for a kitchen, they ought to service you and your friends.

Sparky and I watched “Taken”. I was up all night waiting for the bright lights and little gray men to take me away. Like I told Sparky, my grip on reality is tenuous at best. I probably should stick to “G” rated shows. Really, Polar Express had me on the edge of my seat. There were a few moments there where the train looked like it might not make it to the North Pole. That’s enough for me.

I have to go stare at my cats who look more and more human the more I look at them. I’ll probably freak myself out and then fall into a fitful sleep filled with German verbs, alien cats and psycho construction workers.

‘night.

Feline Freitag

J intoduced me to Pratt Pratt and Pratt does Monday Bunday. I decided to follow suite with Feline Freitag.

Today's guest star is Fin. To your left is his face when I was trying to take a picture of him and he was way more interested in the camera. To the right,is his usual position when I'm not looking. My keyboard gets really warm. No better place in the world to clean one's bum, I guess. Damn cat.

Now, in other news... Prairie Girl and Mausi saved my behind. I had my test today and I think I passed. I did sing a little song. aus-bei-mit naaaaach seit-von-zu. It sounds like chinese food if you say it really fast.

Thanks, you guys. Your clarifications really saved my behind and scuttled me into GKIII.

Its so cold here today, Sparky and I finally turned on the heaters. We were trying to make it to December, but its just too damn cold. The snow stuck last night.

Yesterday it was autumn still. Today it's winter. I love having seasons. And I love the snow. I LOVE THE SNOW. Sparky and I had our first quasi snowball fight. It turned out as it usually does. I throw way off and Sparky doesn't. I end up with cold hands and snow in my ears. Still, nothing like it.

Froher Feline Freitag to all.

first snowfall 

The Bird That Came for Dinner

T-day is here and I'm skipping it. Doing my bird on Sunday when I can relax. Have invited Mutti, her sister and a friend over to taste real live apple pie, American style.

Small bird this year. Not Birdzilla, more like Birdzilina. His name is Frank. No relation to any Franks we know, its just the name that came to mind when I brought him home. I should probably stop naming my food as it becomes harder and harder to eat friends. Off to class.

Big Mouth Strikes Again, La Dee Da

We all know difficult people. They all generally share three main characteristics - they cannot be reasoned with, they believe they can do no wrong, and they are convinced that everything is someone else's fault. If you haven't had some first-hand experience in dealing with such people...

I’ve totally screwed myself a-gain... Me and my big, wide mouth.

See, it’s all about Deutsch right now, right? I’m sure I’ve bored you to tears with my constant whining. I am terribly sorry.

However, I’m not done.

I have three teachers. The first one is the grammar teacher. I like him. I had him in the last session and he understands my humor. He’ll explain in English if I really don’t understand. He laughs when I practice my prepositions with ironic sentences. He understood when I said the animal I missed most from my homeland was the gay man.

Anyway, I like him. The other teacher who teaches conversation is cool too. She was also my tutor. She explained things so clearly and really takes her time to make sure EVERYONE in the class understands.

The third teacher is right smack in the middle and he is SUPPOSED to get us ready for our end of the session test. He’s horrible. He arrives late and leaves early. He talks way too fast for a GKII class. There is no continuity in vocabulary or lesson plans.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the details except to say, after speaking with my fellow students and coming up with a consensus, I asked said teacher to speak slower and to use the white board.

Nothing changed.

Yesterday, he called me up to the white board to write a sample sentence in which the entire class would correct. Great, I thought. I need to learn more about sentence structure.

The problem came when he did not correct my original sentence, but rather wrote a completely new sentence under mine. So I asked him to correct my original sentence. He told me he liked his better. I asked again, what was wrong with mine, structurally. There was a verb in the wrong tense and my article was also wrong.

After about 10 minutes, I just said OK, forget it. I figured I’d ask the other two teachers because they never have a problem correcting stuff. Even if there is another, more elegant way of writing something, they’ll use my sentence to illustrate what we are trying to learn without adding pedantic vocabulary and fancy pants genitives WHICH we haven’t even covered yet. He was flustered and I was pink-cheeked pissed. The class was totally silent.

OK…Sometimes, I tend to bite down on one particular thing and forget to let go even when it really doesn’t matter. I get this tunnel vision and just lose all perspective. I’ve been really working on THAT particular charm of mine. However, yesterday was one of those oops moments.

So, back to being screwed. It turns out that this teacher teaches grammar for the fourth level. As the grammar teacher, he grades the test. So when I’m in the fourth level, he’ll grade my test and what do you think the odds are that my handwriting might be a bit too hard to read and I get marked off because I chose to drive over the Alps as opposed to crossing the Alps.

Maybe I shouldn’t have sat there, defiant in my fuhren, and simply nodded in mute acceptance of his pathetic…

I’ll never make it to MKI now. Foiled by a stupid Alp and a mouth that gets away from me before I can lock it up. It’s not my fault. It’s a genetic thing. Really. And comparatively, well… I’ve come along way since my teenage years. According to sources that really should not throw stones, I had quite the grasp of the English language as a Defense Against the Dark Arts. Or maybe it was the use of the English language IN the Dark Arts.

Regardless, I’m really a very nice person these days (references upon request).

Markus suggests next time I have a problem with a teacher I should shut my trap and let someone else take the lead.

I have been waiting my entire life for that person.

He said that those people are everywhere. They just keep their traps shut when they see the muck I’ve made with mine..

Huh.

Cool Cat Scat

Fin, my cat, is a scat fetishist.

What did I expect, bringing a small impressionable kitten to the international homeland of the scatological arts?  

I first noticed the signs when he started to roll around in the litter box.  At first I thought he was playing, he liked the sand.  Then as He got bigger I realized he was protecting his Freudian product.  His sad little face questions my motives as I scoop the lumps into the Litter Locker.  Now that he’s bigger, he lays across the litter box, rolling around and thus preventing me from removing his little friends.

One could imagine some pet psychologist giving me an expensive, yet thought provoking explanation for said behavior.  That is until we discovered he’s not particular about the scat.

When I’m using the facilities, his little white paw beats furiously against my white behind, urging me to remove myself so he can sniff out the latest news.  Twice I’ve had to catch him right before a 10 point landing into the unflushed bowl.  When Sparky attempts to relieve himself, Fin tries to play catch.  I’ll let you figure that one out.

Poor Cleo.  At first we thought Fin was an ass cat, following her around, sniffing her butt.  No, its not that.  Turns out he’s been LICKING her butt.  With the same tongue he licks my face with at night.  Dis-gus-ting.

In removing Fin’s mouth yesterday from Cleo’s backside, I caught a glimpse of something a little off with Cleo’s nether regions.

With another vet trip and another vet bill, what was the conclusion?  Well, Fin seems like a normal healthy ass/sheiße boy-ish cat.

And Cleo, well, Cleo has hemorrhoids.   I have to apply an anointment to the effected twice a day.   Then I have to make sure Fin leaves her butt alone.

Ummumm.  Nothing like the taste of hemorrhoid cream in the morning.

Back from the Egde

I’m sane again.  Took a little trip to crazy land. Sometimes I get caught up in a bit of a twist.  Too many things, too little sleep and a need to do everything perfectly.  It creates quite a bit of inner turmoil.  Sparky might say a bit of outer turmoil too, but he’s too busy sleeping to comment.  

I don’t know how people with full time jobs and families blog.  Blog, forget blog, I don’t know how families with real 9-5 jobs and kids and lives do anything without going a bit crazy.  I’ve been taxiing Sparky to and from the train station at ungodly hours (4 am, midnight), going school, studying, book groups, human and animal doctor appointments, grocery shopping, cooking etc…  What most people with lives do.  It’s just been so long since I’ve had to juggle, I had almost forgotten how.

Yesterday, Sparks and I cleaned the entire house.  The first time in three weeks.  It was, even by my standards, filthy.  Mutti came over and washed our windows for winter, which meant a 6 am wake up to make sure that the house was in suitable condition.  Nothing’s clean until it’s Mutti clean. I can have my mother-in-law do my windows without guilt only if the rest of the house is spotless.   Windows and ironing, two tasks I have no problem leaving to the experts.  

Yesterday, I finally prepared my balkons for the winter.  I am ready for snow.  Wait, maybe I didn’t say it loud enough. I am READY for snow. Uh, Hell-llooo, Snow??  Where are you, Snow?  I’ve missed you.  I have my uggs out and my winter mittens. My peacoat and my Tuscan shawl are eagerly awaiting the snowball christening of the season. The seat heaters in my car are on standby.

Well, no snow today.  Just lots of frost.

Today, we’re off to a friend’s to shop for the Thanksgiving dinner I’m making next weekend.  Yes, yes, Thanksgiving is Thursday, but as Friday is my dreaded test, I’m not cooking the night before.  

Last year was the first time I made a bird, but it was more of me “helping” Von Tauber in my kitchen.  This year I’m on my own.  I’ve invited Mutti and her sister Hilda.  It’ll be just the four of us.  Not quite the Thanksgivings of my youth.  I will however, be drinking like the Thanksgivings of my youth and even though no one here likes the Clam Dunk cream cheese dip, its what I look forward to the most when having dinner at my dad’s house, so I’m making it.

The cat has climbed into the sleeve of my sweater, making it impossible to type. Since I can’t move the cat (cat-caretaker agreement, paragraph 27, line 5) I’m going to go read your blog.

Good morning, Sunshines!

Ballocks

NaNoWriMo is over for me.  I have only 4000 words and its week three.  Shit.

I did 8 hours of German homework last night AFTER 4 hours of school.  At 9:00 pm, still not understanding dative and accusative, I threw my German grammar books across the room and fled to the bedroom screaming.  After 10 minutes of frustration-induced tears, I brushed my teeth and declared the day over.  I swore to a very quiet Sparky I was not going to go back to school.  Ever.  Never ever. Ich war fit und fertig.

(BerlinCologneBound:  Don’t worry, I’m just a complete dolt when it comes to foreign languages.  I’m positive it will be easier for you.)

Asleep by 10 pm.  Woven into my dreams, German pronouns biting my feet and licking my face.  At 1am, whiskers entered my nostrils.  How do I know it was 1 am?  Something about cat whiskers up the nose.  I could be in a coma, enter the whisker and voila… a miracle.  The glow from the alarm clock kept me awake for another hour.  Sparky got up for a protein shake or a potty break a bit later.  An hour or so after that, Fin and Cleo decided to scratch the glass door and the walls and my pillow looking for a bit of down upon which to rest her little cat head.  God damned cats.

Up and out the door at 6 am.  Coffee was cranky and bitter in my mouth, the terrible-only-in-an-emergency brand that no amount of sugar or milk can hide.  I took Sparky to the train station.  I swear I saw him smile as he quickly got out of the car, relieved for a day away.  I was at school when the doors opened.  Signed up for a private lesson with one of my teachers.  I have the GKII test next week and if I fail, I have to re-take GKII.  I guess it wouldn’t be so bad, since I’m so lost, but I would hate to be in the class with that poser American?-I-am-Frenchman-oui-oui-wanker.  And I really hate failing at anything.  Even mini-golf.  

My inner world is a whirling mass of anxiety mixed with competition, a dab of (justified) hypochondria, and just a pinch of aggression.  Just be glad you’re not privy to my inner dialogue.  It’s not pretty in here.

I digress.

Class wasn’t so bad today.  I got a few things right and the teacher who will tutor me for an exorbitant 70€ assured me I was not alone and that I understood more than I thought I did.  She swore up and down I would be prepared for the test next week. For 70€, I certainly hope so.  I just want to be better then the Somali lady.  Ester speaks five languages.  I don’t need to be better than Ester.   And 70€ is way less expensive than a divorce and if I don’t learn German, I’m gonna have to move.

As for the kitten, well, in a few minutes I take him for the old snip-snip. This has been planned.  Its not like I woke up all pissy and decided to take the logical next step. I hope it calms him down.  He knows something is happening. Since I got home from school, he’s been nothing but that lovable kitten I brought home from America.

Huh… I guess my week could be worse.  I could be Fin.

Slo Mo Stumble

First of all, thank you for all the responses to Sparky’s green query. We have three computers and on two it looks a little bright to my bad eyes. On my laptop, its quite nice and easy to read, but on Sparky’s the color is a lot brighter. I just didn’t want to force the color on other eyeballs.

This week started out very badly. It was kinda like a stumble. You know, the toe of your shoe catches on the rug and its just a little stumble, but the more you try to right yourself, the more top heavy momentum you pick up until you run headfirst into the wall or fall, ungraciously and painfully, twisting life and limb. When you come to, you’re not quite sure how it happened.

Monday morning I woke thinking it was Friday. I didn’t know why, but I did. And the week just got worse. I had so many plans, so much to do, yet all I wanted was a big bowl of Ben&Jerry’s and a few good movies. Instead, I just pushed on, one leg heavily in front of the other until finally Friday came and went.

I’m about ready to drop kick Cleo and Fin. The two of them have conspired to drive me mad. I thought cats were supposed to sleep. I thought it was like 20 hours of naps with cats. It seems that these two do not need to sleep, especially when I need it. If I should think to sleep in, they quickly break me of that thought. God damned cats. I have to keep telling myself “Don’t shake the baby. DON’T shake the baby!”

And Fin is teething all over my arms, hands and toes. He’s a monster. I’ve never had a cat like him before. He’s cat control for me. No more kittens, ever. I’m just sitting peacefully and before you know it, he’s George Bush and the back of my arm is an oil field. And kitten teeth really hurt. I can feel his little jaw trembling, trying to figure out exactly how hard he can bite without being hurdled across the room.

I’m starting to think human babies might be the way to go.

Sparky was OOT for a record 4 days. I had the house, homework, and cats to myself. Anyone who knows Sparky can attest to his anal retentive nature. I, however, suffer from more of the loose bowel condition. When Sparky is gone, I can kick my shoes off as I walk in the house only to find them in the same place later. I wrote all about it here a while ago. The four days were nice, but my schedule was thrown off. I’m not exactly talented at self-discipline, so things might have gone a little wonky around here. It might have helped my week to have some structure.

I’ve had so much German homework. Still do. I’m really going crazy with it. I’ve gone from head of the class to 2nd to the bottom, only the Somali lady who just learned to read and write is below me. After class, I’ve been busting my ass to absorb more and more Deutsch.

When I said I wasn’t so good with foreign language, I really meant it. I wasn’t being coy or lazy. I really suck. Part of the problem is my brain. I cannot learn anything by rote. I need to understand and comprehend. I can’t comprehend Deutsch because everything is irregular. So as soon as I get one rule down and learn the basics, the irregularities pop up like kids at Neverland. So I just hit the books harder. That’s all I can do, I guess, save for paying someone to take the tests for me.

I pay well, just drop me an email. Kidding… just kidding. If I did that, I’d also have to pay you to speak to my mother-in-law and I just don’t have that kind of money.

And lastly, I just could not look at my computer for another second. With Sparky traveling the countryside, it was only me in a lonely red room. Me and the damn cats jumping on the keyboard and drinking the water out of vases, knocking over piles of papers, fighting, knocking books out of the bookshelves, fighting and being otherwise obnoxious.

Two cats for the price of one right now, OBO.

Undress, with or without help

Okay, I’m starting to struggle with the German lessons.  There are so many words that are almost the same, but so different.

Here’s today’s fuck up.  I read this sentence on the board.  It was in regards to what a newly married woman did over the weekend.

In Deutsch:  Letze Woche Sonntag sind Freunde von mir umgezogen.  Leider haben nur 4 Personen geholfen.

What I thought it meant:  Last weekend Sunday, friends of mine undressed. Unfortunately, only four people helped.

That damn umgezogen.  The infinitive form is umziehen.

I looked around and NO ONE was reacting like one would when hearing about undressing with help.  In my world, undressing with help is still an oohlala thing. She looked like a very nice catholic woman from Ecuador. Did Happnight.de sponsor the class or did I misunderstand Aaaagain?

It’s a good thing I left my pride back in San Francisco because I’m effing up all over that school.  

Idiot Husband: Oxymoron? *Guest post by Sparky*

From Sparky

Jen (also affectionately known as "cupcake") and I are proud to present "Sparky Dance". This video of a totally pussywhipped husband making a fool out of himself is HILARIOUS... we think. Also, we had promised it about a month ago and failed to deliver so far.

The video is also turned by 90°, a feature we want to make a series of. Look forward to a video of cupcake in the same format, but without the nudity. It might take another month to post it.

And now, without further ado, the video (Click on the picture to download or watch online).

With dancing greetings,

- Sparky

****Update

So I come home from school and find my blog had been shang hai'd by my ever-so-whipped-more-like-exhibitionist-husband. Enjoy the show because he has caught nothing but hell for it and someone might as well enjoy it. Oh, and there will be NO videos of me. There is only room for one Paris Hilton in a marriage. -jen

Update

The good doctor(not the butcher) called late to let me know there is no carcinoma.

That's it. No more risks for me. No more swimming with sharks, no more homes in hurricane zones, no more vacations surfing tsunamis. I'm going to move somewhere safe, with few natural disasters, moderate climate and only occassional lightning storms as to not tempt fate with too perfect an environ.

I whore, therefore I am

I have trouble sleeping.  I go to bed around midnight and wake up around 5 am.  Everyday.  I think its left over from when I worked for the bank in SF.  I was up early to support the traders in NY.  During this time period, I was rather social and stayed out/up very late, often getting no more than a few hours of sleep.  I found that this is all I really needed. If I didn’t go out, I was still up all night.

At the time, I had a doctor who seemed to think Ambien was a miracle drug and prescribed loads of the stuff when I told him my early morning woes, late nights and insomniac tendencies.  At the time, he believed they weren’t even remotely addictive.  It’s a good thing I don’t have an addictive personality or I’d be chit chatting with Eminem in group therapy at Promises in Malibu.

Well, these days, as a lady of leisure, my late nights involve more books than bars.  I don’t need to get up early.  But I still don’t need that much sleep.  I have a ton of leftover energy by the time I hit the sheets and usually talk Sparky’s ear off.  If I really can’t sleep, I ask him to explain fusion/fission or some physics theory.  It keeps him interested enough to stay awake long enough for the subject matter to bore me into zzzz.

Last night, as I laid there, fidgeting, we worked on my German verbs.  Usually, I don’t do this with Sparky because there is not one thing I can say without a whole boatload of corrections and frankly, I’m afraid to speak as it is, without all the constructive criticism.  Earlier in the evening I had simply stopped asking him to help me with my home work because every word I spoke was not up to par.

So lying there, in the dark, to help me sleep (Sparky has no problem sleeping) Sparky gave me an English verb to which I would respond in deutsch present and past tense.  

After going through verbs such as to kill, to rot, to beat, to fight I asked for more common words like speaking and walking and running.  

“To hear”, he says.

“Horen”, I respond.

“Uh, Jen, you need to work on the umlaut.  It’s heowren.  Put…”

“God damnit Markus, stop critizing me.  This is what I’m talking about.  I got the word right. Just leave my pronunciation alone.  Jesus Christ…” Blah Blah Blah.  The rest of what I said is not important now and deny I said anything mean or defensive.

It was bedtime. I never have more energy in my day.   And I was pissed.  You can probably imagine, five minutes into the lecture he wanted to kampft, schlagt, tötet me. Ten minutes into my diatribe he quietly says, “Jen, its important with that word because you just said to whore.  I thought it might be important that you didn’t tell your teachers if you couldn’t whore them or that I never whore you.”

“Oh.” I said, about 100 decibels quieter than the last few words I had spoken.

The silence in the room was deafening, but we both whored it.  

Kannst du meinen Boppes küssen oder darfst du meinen Boppes küssen?

So much has happened in the last two days, I don’t know where to begin.  

First, I passed my test.  I have an issue with the usage of kann vs darf, but I’ll have to let that go.  It was only two points, right?  I’ve had so many aggravating experiences this week that this would seem like small potatoes, but its not.  It just sticks in my craw.

I’m in the next level regardless.  It’s hard.  I understood very little today and will have to study a lot tonight so that tomorrow can/may be a better day.  

All members of the Ladies of Leisure League made it to the next level, which is nice.  Only one of the Somali women moved on with us and the British guy stayed back.  Sadly, Sweet Cheeks’ visa ran out and she had to go back to the Ukraine. The priest went back to Poland.

Second, our Bulthaup kitchen needs another repair after one year and our salesman is refusing the warranty.  Long story, but they neglected to re-measure the new construction before ordering and ordered one cabinet that didn’t fit.  It was clearly a supplier error.  

They asked us to chip in to pay for it.  As we had already paid a kings ransom, it wasn’t our fault, we said at the time we would not pay for the error and we signed nothing, we are not going to pay for it.

Now they are refusing service even though they have repaired this problem and others during the last year.  The explanation is that even though it was not our fault, they figure it’s cheaper for us to pay them than for us to sue them.  Those were Herr Schmiedel’s exact words.

I will burn those euros before I will give it to Kuchen Schmiedel.  I will wipe my butt and flush those euros first.  I will tear them into little pieces and use them for confetti before I pay those extortionists.  So we’re suing.  

An aside, Bulthaup has beautifully styled kitchens, but functionally, Bulthaup is no better than other WAY less expensive Sysmatic or even Ikea.  We’ve had so many problems with this kitchen and we’ve had it a year. Kitchens are supposed to last a bit longer, right?

Third, I had a medical situation that required swift outpatient surgery.  Everything seems to be fine now.  I’ll have the pathology reports back tomorrow, but we do not anticipate any problems.  Given the fact my sister has cancer, my mother died of cancer and my dad survived colon cancer, when a doctor finds an unusual tumor, one tends to worry.

The real issue now is the Dr. and the facility. The doctors did not use gloves when examining me or hooking up the IV.   I was under anesthesia so I don’t know if gloves were used for the surgery.  The recovery room contained two Ikea beds with dirty sheets and duvets. There was blood on the sheets from someone else that had been there before me.   I asked if I could leave and the nurse said I’d go home in a couple of hours, but the whole thing was so filthy I waited until I was no longer dizzy and dressed. I went to the waiting room to find Markus and demanded to go home immediately.

The surgeon took one more look, without gloves, and warned me of a narcosis relapse.

When they drew blood they didn’t wear gloves AND had a blood pressure cuff on.  This ended up with my blood squirting all over the room, down my arm, on to the nurse and the anesthesiologist himself. No one had any sort of protection.  I was in a rather delicate position physically, very scared and understanding very little of what they were saying or I would have said something.  I didn’t know if this was a cultural difference or a sign of a bad situation.  It was one of those “I hate this, I’m totally helpless, I don’t know what to do” moments that made me yearn for the US.

Now I’m flipping out about contracting something from the Drs.  I have no idea what to do at this point.  I’ve cancelled my follow appt with this surgery center and will follow up with my regular Dr.  

Next time I’ll go to our TierÄrztin.  Her office is a lot cleaner and so are her hands.  Bloody Metzgerei.

On a lighter note, there is an American guy in my school who claims to be French.  

Monday we did a little exercise with the GK I thru III classes.  We had to interview another student and then introduce that person to the rest of the class.  When I walked in to the room, there was this one guy who stood out.  His name is Adrian.

As an American living abroad, I can out pick another American in crowd.  Idiosyncrasies that we take for normal behavior in the states, tends to stand out in Europe.  One of the many ways new Ami Expats stand out is in our arrogance.  The white sneakers are another, but it’s our arrogance that really irritates the natives.

This guy Adrian had arrogance in spades.  SPADES, I tell you. Just the way he walked in the room was American.  The way he was chatting up the hot Italian, the way he proudly mispronounced every German word he spoke

I’m really good with my Amidar.  And the French, I have found, have a very different type of arrogance.  Americans tend to be antagonistically arrogant.  Sparky calls it proactive arrogance, but you get the drift.  It’s really clarified if you look at Bush vs. Chirac.

His partner, a super hot Italian, introduced him as Adrian from France.  Then he himself explains he’s been in Germany for 1 month.

Adrian is totally American.  I don’t know his story, but he claims to be French, born and raised. A Frenchman would not speak German with an American English accent.  

Class ended and I went to wait for Sparky in the car.  Adrian came out and started walking towards his car.  As soon as he saw me, the only American in the room earlier, he slowed down.  I kid you not.  He slowed down until it was obvious I wasn’t going anywhere.

As he walked toward his American model Toyota Tercel, he nodded in acknowledgement.  The car had American civilian military plates.
What is the French word for Poser?