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

Stell's dir mal vor... Cheffe wohnt momentan in Österreich. Er liest mein Blog bei der Arbeit und hat sich neulich über eine Verknüpfung in dem letzten Eintrag beschwert. ( Cheffe -- keine Sorgen -- du kannst ruhig draufklicken, ist ok ;) ) Aber würde er wegen den "NSFW-Links" (Verknüpfung is SFW) gefeuert, dann würde ich mich (ein kleines bisschen) schuldig fühlen... besonders heute, denn er hat Geburtstag. Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Cheffe ! Drink up and don't let The Man get you down!

So many fools, so much pity Some people maintain that it's not easy to catch lightning in a bottle twice. I call bullshit. All those folks who whip out their bottles at the slightest roll of thunder are going about the process all wrong. You have to be more active. You gotta grab that lightning around the throat* and squeeze tight or else that bitch is gonna get away... That's my theory at least. And I should know, because last night -- for the second time in my life -- I managed to find myself being put in a headlock by a total stranger. It's been about 5 years since my first "armpit hug". I had just moved in to RLH and was slowly but surely getting to know my fellow dorm residents via the RLH Bar . One fateful Thursday, I was sitting on a barstool, minding my own business, when all of sudden this guy (who had earlier been sucking on the stocking-clad toes of M.R . ) came up behind me, put me in a headlock and started screaming, "I'm going to break your

The Keytar...gets 'em everytime. It recently occured to me that, come October, I will have been in Germany for 5 months. That’s kinda crazy, yo. Like almost half a year. It seems like almost yesterday I was curled up in the corner on a mattress in André’s room. Good times, good times. Even wilder is the fact that in the last 4 months I haven’t spoken to a single person in my family*, with the exception of my sister (the one and only, andthepickles ) – and that largely consisted of a handful of emails and 3 phone/skype sessions. I’m notoriously bad at keeping in touch with people. The word „sucktacular“ comes to mind. However, I'm not without my reasons: 1.) I love getting emails, but I hate responding to them. It’s kind of like when you get a bill. The first one is a gentle reminder to pay – a good "suggestion", if you will. You don’t really have to sit up and take notice until you start getting those multi-colored, no-seriously-we-mean-it-pay-us letters. And th

Why be a pirate? GWMD (Gold, Women, Muskets & Dubloons), that's why. Also sharks...with friggin lasers on their heads. Oh yeah. Ahoy, ahoy... It be brought to me attention that today be INTERNATIONAL TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY!!! Well, shiver me timbers and such. 'Tis a bit late, as th' holiday be halfway over on this side o' th' globe, but have at it kids. Pirate Speak Translator (Source: MissFee ) How to Talk Like a German Pirate (Source: andthepickles ) Zu den Haien schicken!!!

I could finally persue my dream career -- Donaudampfschiffahrtsgesellschaftskapitän There's an Old Saying in German that roughly translates into the following: We like our words, like we like our sausage: Long and made up of random parts of other things. Or something to that effect. Actually, you might not want to quote me on that... A few months ago, I was reading NEON Magazine . It has a section called Unnützes Wissen , which is dedicated to one of my favorite topics: useless knowledge .* However, instead of the usual one-page of random facts, this particular issue came with an entire little booklet of random facts. One little tidbit happened to catch my eye -- Sesquipedalophobia is the fear of long words . In and of itself, not the most interesting or intriguing piece of information that I've ever stumbled across (especially in light of some of the other factoids). Though for some reason, reading that sentence in German was very amusing to me. I tried to imagine a native Ger

Pop it and lock it, fool Last weekend I seriously fucked up my throat. Big time. It wasn't the first time that such a thing has happened; however, it was by far the worst. See, basically what happens is that once you pour a few beers down my throat, I suddenly lose all concept of what is commonly referred to as an "inside voice". I get extremely loud and chatty, which is the exact opposite of what I am when sober. I'm sure plenty of you reading this right now have witnessed this phenomenon occur with me, so there's really no need to get into the details. Suffice it to say, I must have been shouting something pretty hard...because when I woke up on Sunday, my throat was like raw as fuck. This wasn't entirely convenient timing, since Monday was supposed to be the first day of my "cool new job" -- which until my paperwork is all finalized is really "the cool new place where I volunteer". So, Sunday I took it easy, avoided talking and thought i

The 40-piece Sausage Case - German Sausage. Everything else is cheese. Lebrookski's Internal Dialogue After Waking Up This Morning at 7:30am Voice 1: You gotta admit, that was pretty awesome. Voice 2: But kinda weird and bizarre. Voice 1: Weird? Yes. But mostly awesome. Voice 2: Like percentage-wise, how awesome? Voice 1: I'd say about 90% awesome, 10% weirdo bizarre-ness. Voice 2: Ok, think about what you just said. Visualize each word....and now imagine yourself saying those exact words out loud to someone who doesn't live in your head. Now, are you still going to go with those numbers? Voice 1: Well, when you put it that way...I guess I'd have to say it was probably more like 90% awesome and 25% weird. Voice 2: Dude, that's 115%. Voice 1: Exactly. Voice 2: You're retarded. Voice 1: ...possibly, but right now I think I'm mostly hungry. Voice 2: Alright, let's just go back to sleep for a few more hours and I'll get you a döner later.