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?