If it's not Raven, it's crap...

Happy anniversary to me! It recently occured to me that this month is the one-year mark of my "new" blog (as opposed to my old one ). My oh my, how the time does fly. I suppose I could have waited until the 200th post to say something celebratory, but post #198 will have to do. What surprises me most is that I continue to keep writing here. If I were to dig up any of my hand-written journals, I'd be lucky to find more than ten pages of content (and I'm talking like ten pages over five years). Not only that, it would probably be a very depressing read. The thing I like about this online journal is that it's main purpose is for my own personal amusement. I tried going the serious route , but I don't think it suited me well. I'm really not that great of a writer and I'm ok with that. As long as I entertain myself (and some of you) along the way then I'm happy . So, keeping that in mind, here are ten entries that particularly amused me over the last ye

"I bought this baby straight cash, son" I'm not so much in the mood for a super long post, so I'm gonna bring you all up to speed all quick-like: Friday: After a week of intense waiting, André's new albums from Hip-Hop Vinyl.de FINALLY arrived. I'm now the proud co-owner of: This Week (Jean Grae), MM FOOD (MF DOOM), Madvillainy (Madlib & MF DOOM), Murray's Revenge (Murs & 9th Wonder), Industry Shakedown and Konexion (Freddie Foxxx), and lastly, Doggystyle (Snoop Dogg). Oh, and I also bought Tina Turner's Private Dancer at Checkpoint Charly for 1.50 euros...because I couldn't resist. Needless to say, we had plenty music to get us through the weekend. Saturday: Most of the morning was spent (by André and Alex ) interviewing potential new roommates. I'm moving to a new apartment at the end of the week, but don't worry Dré...I promise that I will come by on a regular basis to veg out on your couch. Their new (future) roommat

Step 1: Eat a Zwiebelmettwurst sandwich with extra onions on top. Step 2: Sit back and wait for the ladies to jump on your crotch rocket. Just as a concept, Zwiebelmettwurst sounds completely and utterly disgusting. You've got Zwiebel which means onion and that's alright, because onions are the bomb. However, then you've got this whole Mettwurst thing and it's like basically raw minced sausage. My first encounter with the stuff was back in 1998 with my host family in Berlin . After waking up for my first day of school, I came in to the kitchen only to find my host dad spreading what looked like raw ground beef on to a piece of bread. When he offered me some to try, I politely declined and reached for the jar of Nutella. It wasn't until we ran out of Nutella that I plucked up the courage to give the meat a go. In reality, Zwiebelmettwurst is extremely delicious. Before André brought some home last night, I had almost forgotten about it. The extra onions on top

Oh snap, indeed Last week Mo stopped by in his spiffy VW Passat station wagon on his way back to beautiful, downtown Marschacht-City, Niedersachsen (215 miles west of the real Sachsen). We went for ice cream and on the way back he let me shift the gears in the car, while he steered and did all the fancy foot work. I'm not ashamed to say it...I can't drive a stick shift. I honestly feel this is through no fault of my own. Just as I turned 15, my dad sold his jeep and bought the pick-up truck of his dreams, so I had to learn to drive using my mom's minivan. Over the years, I've practically begged people to teach me how to drive standard, only to have them tell me that their vehicle is somehow particularly tricky to use (e.g. the clutch is too sticky or it's hard to shift or a family of beavers live in the engine). Just about everyone but Bianca gave me some kind of excuse like that...unfortunately before Bianca could teach me, some drunk idiot plowed into her car (

"Hier kommt der Ladi-da Shit, der quasi Arschtritt..." Just from further away and in a different city over 2 years ago, but you get the general idea. Note: Mere moments ago, Herr Hausmeister (the building super) came by to tell us that we could no longer hang our beloved pirate flag out of the window. And my heart...sank. By the way, when I say "we" I mean "me and Alex " because today is André's first day on the job . Anyway, just what exactly was the Hausmeister's beef with the flag? Apparently, he was trying to show some potential new renters an apartment and two of the people with whom he had appointments cancelled upon seeing the building, because the flag gave the impression that this is a rough neighborhood. Riiiight...gotta watch out for those hooligans that live across from Birdland . HOHELUFT-WESTSIIIIDE!!! For your regularly scheduled drivel please click below... In hindsight, I probably should have worn my Dynamite Deluxe shirt on Sa

The propellers of the flower world This morning André went out and bought some sunflowers for his loverly girlfriend, Seven . When he came back home with his purchase, he learned something totally new about me, namely that sunflowers really freak me out. Despite the fact I know they aren't for me...I have to look at their creepy thick stems every time I go into the kitchen. In theory, I think sunflowers are quite pretty. My sister Gillian once crocheted a very lovely blanket-thingy with a sunflower pattern, which she gave to me for my birthday. Pictures of sunflowers don't bother me at all. And yes, I even find sunflower seeds to be quite the delicious treat. But put a real sunflower in front of me...and I almost want to run away crying like a little girl. They frighten me much less than propellers, but maybe slightly more than an impeller . That's an engineering joke for yo azz... Things I'm looking forward to this weekend : Getting my Cha-ping-pong on Seeing Blumen

Dedicated to Buche Damn you, Comedy Central!!! This whole year you kept saying new Chappelle's Show episodes were coming. Waaaaaay back during the Super Bowl in January...them shits were supposed to be airing back then. But nooooo...what do you do? You wait until I leave the goddamn country. Now I gotta go through other channels to get my fix. Still, it feels kind of weird and wrong without Dave though... Arrrrghhh! Video-Pirate Land!

Fuck yeah ... Arschgeige is a very funny word to me. It literally translates into "ass violin", which brings a smile to my face every time. S.A.M. III used it last night in reference to the World Cup douche-fans littering the streets of Hamburg's red light district . It's one of those words that I had heard before, but for some reason, never really stopped to think about what it meant until that moment. André maintained that "cockbag" (German: Pimmeltasche ) could be an ersatz word for Arschgeige in English. At the time, I agreed, as nothing better came to mind. However, upon further reflection, I would like to throw the word "asshat" into consideration. Cockbag comes across a bit too harsh, but the word asshat keeps it light, while still implying that the idiots carousing out on the streets are complete and total douches, but there's just nothing they can do about it. By degree of severity, I think it goes: asshat => douchebag => as

Guess where we live? Newsflash #1: I love record shops. Of course, there's the obvious reason: I l-o-v-e love shopping for music. However, there's also a not-so-obvious reason, which is that record shops usually have all these little free booklets and magazines just sitting around their entrances. Newsflash #2: I love free stuff :) A few weeks ago, I picked up one such booklet, which turned out to be a "Guide to Germany's Best Record Shops" and it just so happened that three of the bestest stores in the country can be found right here...in Hamburg...outstanding! So André and I decided that we would make a pilgrimage (pilgrimages?) to these places. You know, kill some time...and some money... For those of you who don't know, record shopping with André is always a very intense affair. Technically, it's something we do together, but only in the sense that we arrive there together using the same mode of transportation and then we leave at the same time and g

Brooks Ones Pt. II I had a lovely little dinner party last night. Dinner parties are a sign of adulthood, right? Even if tacos are the main course? No, you say? Bite me. I know back in the states a taco meal isn't anything special, but here in Europe it costs roughly two months' rent to be able to buy a pack of eight tortillas. Luckily I spent most of the afternoon selling crack to be able to afford them bitches. So illegal, but sooooo worth it. It's kinda silly, but I always associate tacos with Christmas. Trust me, there's nothing better than stuffing yourself full of tacos and beer and then kicking back to watch The Life of Brian (mmmm...sacre-licious!) However, yesterday we were celebrating the fact that André is done with his tests. Huzzah! It's about damn time. So, with the limitless power of my imagination, I conjured up some tacos and taco fixins in massive proportions. Many onions and cloves of garlic sacrificed themselves for the cause (I didn't say

Ich vertrete meine Meinung, gepresst auf Vinyl, nicht auf Seite 3 in der Zeitung This afternoon I was watching awesomely bad German rap videos (meaning they were so bad, that eventually André looked over at me and said, "Dude, could you try watching them with the headphones on?"). Don't believe me? Click the hot fiyah to see. YouTube is definitely addictive. The video above isn't awesomely bad, it's just the video to my cell phone ringtone, and I thought I'd share. Also, it reminded me of the time a few weeks ago when kinda seemed like Denyo (um, the black guy in the video) was following me around the city. I'm sure it was pretty coincidental, however, that doesn't make it any less amusing to me. Speaking of ringtones, I need a new one. However, since I don't have a fancy-schmancy cell phone and I don't care for the pre-programmed crap, so I'd have to use the composer...and that shit takes forever. Anyway, nothing much to write about toda

Found this for you, Robbyn Thanks to André , I've been doing pretty well with my soccer boycott. This is because he could care less about the game and, in turn, his apathy reinforces my will to not participate in the madness. We make a great team, right? But even though we're just not that into soccer, we love space shuttle launches! And when I say "we" I mean André , but I love to ask him dumb questions about space shuttles during launches. Surprisingly it's a lot like soccer. For example, both have boring commentators, fans dress up for the occasion (see André's new space shirt), and sometimes you have to brace yourself for the agonizing sting of defeat (launch postponed...yet again). Yes, it's just like soccer...but for nerds. Anyway, I was still digesting the fact that I had just watched about 3 hours of space shuttle footage (in which the end result was not "Blast off!"), when André mentioned that S.A.M. III (present because he had been