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

This will likely be my last post of 2012. Excuse the typos, I'm just going to write and not edit (yet). I didn't manage to keep up with the blog much as I wanted. But I ended up starting a Tumblr and a short story group blog . To tell you the truth, however, there were a number of times when I just wanted to shut everything down (or at least take an extended hiatus of indeterminate length). But then, something always draws me back in again. Last year, I mentioned that 2011 felt like multiple years compressed into one . If I knew then what I know now, I probably would have just kept my damn mouth (fingers?) shut. One thing I can say, however, is that I knew 2012 held the potential for a lot of possibility and change, both good and bad. I didn't expect for there to just be so much, so quickly, and mostly completely by surprise. I don't even know as yet if I'd even categorize the year as bad or good. It was a year of extremes. Maybe I needed that. For better or wo

Ok, I know this clip is a few months old, but I stumbled across it again while looking for the Rent-A-Swag clip. Here's Aziz on Conan.

Rent-A-Swag on Pinterest + Aziz Ansari wearing a Ryan Gosling-type scorpion jacket from Drive = highlight of my day. (via: rabenteuerlich )

My apartment smells like cheese. That's not a complaint, just a statement of fact. It's also not a mystery either. Last night, Schmiddy , Ms. X , and I partook of the cheesy holiday delight that is raclette . It was the first time that I "officially" entertained guests at my place and it went well despite a noticeable lack of kitchen utensils and containers. We successfully MacGyvered the shit out of the evening and had a really great time. Or at least I did. And that's all I require of my guests: don't be lame. So far, I've been bungling my way through this holiday season. It definitely wasn't the worst Christmas of my life. That honor goes to Christmas 1990, after I contracted chicken pox and spent the holidays quarantined from my family and taking oatmeal baths. The combination of the emotional sadness of missing out on every single bit of holiday fun and incessant itching has yet to be topped. My brother Junior dared to entertain me with yo

So, another year of RAP statt EKG is done. 2012 has been a wild ride and as you may have noticed (if you've been noticing at all), about half of the shows were repeats. Hopefully, that won't be the case next year, but that all kind of depends on what's going on in my personal life. I'm also working on a new name for the show. If you've been keeping track for about the past two years, I've been doing the show solo, even though Zilv is still kind of all up in the description. However, the whole medical/hip-hop doctor/nurse thing doesn't make so much sense with just me by myself. And a fresh start never hurts, right? Anyway, since the FSK transmitter for December and January is already out, the new name probably won't be official until February. I'm still brainstorming ideas, but if you have a good suggestion, then send me an email rapstattekg [at] gmx [dot] de. Or leave it in the comments. Or send it to my regular damn email address. Righ

I'm sure I've addressed this more than a few times here, but I don't feel like digging through the archives for the quotes. It's weird how one can get older, yet still not really "feel" like a grown-up. Like I wonder what it would take sometimes. Would I just have to be super wrinkly to be able to look in the mirror and say, "Oh wow, I feel like an actual adult now"? To sing the song of my people: being an adult seems to mean buying a house, getting married, making the bebes and so on and so forth, but I fear that those conventionalities are largely unappealing to me. For one, I can't really see myself ever being able to afford buying an apartment in Germany, much less a house...much much less...do that whole suburban thing. I'm a city gal through and through. So I see all that and it looks like a pile of do not want. To make a really weird and probably not all too fitting comparison, it was like before puberty hit and my boobs arrived. I

(Source: unquotables.tumblr.com )

Right now, it's strange to think about things that could make me excited or happy. My default mode seems to be mopey with sardonic humor as a replacement for actual humor. Not the best look for me, perhaps, but I could probably be a lot worse. I've just accepted that I'm not going to be the life of the party and I manage to make it through the day somewhat normally (normal-ish). I've got some vague plans in the works for the coming year. It mostly involves visiting people who I've been meaning to visit for ages (like ever since I moved back to Germany six years ago). Hit me up, if you think you should be on that list. Anyway, I'm just generally reminding myself, Fuck-Yeah-Ryan-Gosling-style that, "Hey girl, it's not the end of the world." And, truthfully, it's not. There could have been so much more drama, horrifying revelations, chaos, bitterness, and anger...but there just isn't. I've just got a bad case of the sads. While it's