Sunday, November 28, 2010

he found a bunch of englishmen and led them astray

"How're you going?"
"I'm drunk."
"I can see that. How much did you drink?"
"Well I had four beers but I poured half of one away so it was three and a half beers and then wanted a coke but he bought me another beer so I had three and a half beers plus one beer."
"So four and a half beers."
"No, it was three and a half plus one."
"Four and a half, then."
"It might have been seven."

Thursday, November 25, 2010

berlin street view

Well it's been a bit of a furor but street view is up and active here at last, meaning I'm not doing much else than trying to find interesting stuff happening in my town. This, I consider, is productive use of my lunch break.

Typically, I missed entirely the birth on the street in the neighbouring suburb and the naked dude in the car. Of course, the last one is understandable as he's not a Berliner. You can tell because of the lack of ironically worn retro-eighties clothing.

The most interesting thing I've found so far is this: a guy carrying an injured German Shepherd out of a vets near my place. Okay, so it isn't really exciting but give me a break. I only get half an hour for lunch after all.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Winding up somewhere totally unexpected

I found myself the other day, for wont of anything better to do at the time, following a Hot List link on Delicious and wound up in the middle of a story about two gay male ballet dancers called Eames and Arthur. I'm sure you can see where this is heading but I didn't. Not even with the word Inception in the title. Not even with the thin characterisation and overly navel gazing narration. Not even after I read all twenty thousand words of this story and then realised there were more stories of Eames and Arthur, but written by a lot of different livejournal bloggers. In fact it wasn't until this morning when it suddenly dawned on me.

Ohhhh, it was slash fic.

Now I've had really nothing to do with fanfic and its raunchier slash brother. Which is almost a surprise considering that I'm a scifi fan, a wannabe writer and as much a fan of well written porn as the next girl. The story I'd stumbled upon was more of a Mills & Boon than eastern european porn mag, which is why I think I'm excused from recognising it immediately.

Of course the other reason is that the story was about two gay ballet dancers in London. Aside from having the characters vaguely resemble Leonardo and Joseph it had nothing to do with the Inception characters or their world. I mean, what exactly was the point of it?

If the writer had tried a little but harder s/he could probably have created characters from scratch that would have been more complete and actually produced something unique. Or as unique as any love/porn story is I guess.

So, meh. I've stumbled into the world of slash now, but I think I'll head out again. There's erotica aplenty elsewhere and while I'm not averse to a little Gordon-Levitt fantasy, I think I'll just stick with the less slashy variety.

Saturday, November 06, 2010

so what do you think this post is about?

Twelve years ago I got off a plane from four months backpacking around the world and one of the first things my mother said to me was "You've gone grey!". Which wasn't exactly what you wanted to hear as a spritely twenty-three year old, living up the jetsetting lifestyle of hostel dorm rooms, two-minute noodles and overnight Greyhound bus rides.

Of course, I did get my own back a minute later when I told her I'd spent her lovingly bestowed emergency travellers check in San Fransisco to get a tattoo.

But I digress.

Since then it's been a fight with the grey invader. When friends tell me they've got their first few grey hairs I scoff in disgust. For my regrowth is silver and I'm forced into a steady attendance at the hairdressers. Hi Kerstin!

So I came up with the plan of dying my hair grey anyway. I mean, I can't fight it, I'm sick of having to be at the hairdressers every four weeks. And if I manage to make it LOOK obviously dyed grey, then no one will think I actually AM grey.

Huh? Huh? See THAT'S some clever thinking there, that is.

It took me a while to talk over my normal hairdresser, a woman that deals with me coming in every month and saying "What stupid thing can I do to it today?".

Hi Marina!

Today, however, she was willing to give it a shot. Unfortunately, though, it took a long time just to get most of the colour out and we've decided to put off the next step - dyeing it grey - until my poor scalp has had a little while to recover. So for now I'm a odd kind of golden blonde with strawberry highlights and I must admit, for something different, I kinda like it.

blondes gift

Friday, November 05, 2010

A small deception

A couple of weeks ago we had two teenage girls as guests and, as you can probably imagine, we were stressing out a bit as to how on earth we could make ourselves seem cool. Having been extremely uncool teenagers ourselves (although, to be honest, I'm not sure DrH actually noticed that he wasn't) it wasn't something we thought we could pull off.

In the end, I figured the worst we would come off as is middle-class, middle-aged folk trying to look cool, and that's at least one step up from old people still wearing tie-dye.

There is always further one can drop in the social strata.

So the night they arrived from their small town in southern Germany, we took them out to White Trash Fast Food, a bar-come-restaurant-come-club-come-tattoo parlour-come-burger joint-live band venue. It's full of native-english speakers covered in tattoos and kitschy chinese restaurant decor.

The gals loved it and, as an upside, a group of fifty-plus-year olds came in after us wearing North Face jackets and expensive hiking shoes, thereby officially making us NOT the uncoolest In the room. WIN.

By the time we'd gotten home, each had called their respective boyfriend multiple times and exclaimed on the coolness of the night and how much Berlin rocked over their teeming local metropolis of Koblenz.

Later, on our own in the bedroom, DrH and I totally didn't high-five each other on our success at pulling it off.

'Cause that wouldn't have been cool.