The famous Deanie

I'm a really good Blogger....

2010-08-21T10:59:00.000-07:00

.....NOT.
I'm lazy. And my head is kinda empty at the moment (read previous post, then you'll know why). So, instead of writing something super clever and witty and...umm...stuff, I'll just post super cute pictures of my daughter.

Yes, my bewbs are in the picture too

Charlotte with her aunty

Charlotte loves sleeping on mommy

Such a curious little girl <3

That does count as a post, right?

That's what I look like. But thanks anyway.

2010-07-29T15:46:00.000-07:00

So, as ~~you all~~ those two people who actually read my blog know that my child is a little bit difficult. She still cries all night, and unfortunately all the nice tips *snort* of my ~~non existent~~ commenters didn't help. Over the last few weeks I only had a few nights where I could actually sleep. I mean, really sleep. And during the day my daughter wants attention. Lots of attention.

Anyways, I don't have the time to shower every day (yeah, I know, super gross) nor to put on any make up or something else that makes me look like a human.
But today, luck was on my side. My husband came home way earlier and I could go to ~~Starbucks~~ the grocery store alone. I know: W-O-W.

So I took the car keys and drove into town. The good think about a car is, that people don't actually see what you look like (especially your hair). But I digress.
I eventually arrived in the mall and was overwhelmed by everything I missed. All the wonderful stores and snack restaurants and candy stores...sigh.
At one point I got into the make-up and wellness part of a store. I randomly looked at stuff I won't ever be able to use anymore. Out of nowhere there was one of those Barbie saleswomen standing next to me.
"Can I help you, miss?" Ugh, how I hate such high pitched voices, full with fake politness.

"No thanks, I'm just looking." I tried to sound nice. I really did.

"This is a really good shampoo, makes your hair smell wonderful!" Apparently I was too nice.
"And this here, is a moisture mask for your hair. It's very easy. You see, just put it on when taking a nice bath, let it soak in for 10 minutes and then rinse. It's so convenient, 'cause in those ten minutes you could have a glass of wine and relaaax..."

Hmmm....which part of "I'm just looking" didn't she understand? Besides, uuuh....after a nice bath?? Who is she kidding? I mean, do I look as if I had the time to take a bath? Ha! And then, uuuhhh...soak in for 10 friggin' minutes? HA! Oh, and the last part is my favorite. A glass of wine. During a bath. Yeah...of course, Mrs. Barbie.

But I didn't say any of that out loud. I'm too polite. I guess she only wanted to help. Or she was scared of how awesome (....) my hair looked like.

The world just has to accept that now there is another one of those.
Dear world (and Barbie-saleswomen), that's what I look like. But thanks for trying anyway.

3 Months

2010-07-09T09:21:00.000-07:00

To be a mom is a wonderful thing. But it's harder than I thought it would be. I can't believe she's already 3 months old!

She's completely healthy and developing just fine. I love it when she's lying on her tummy and looking up at us or whatever is interesting her. Lately she's found that the carpet is the most interesting thing EVER!

Woooooooah! Fluff ball's and dust! I love when Mommy was too ~~lazy~~ busy to clean up!

But there is one particular thing that is a bit annoying:

My child decided that she's likes to be awake AT NIGHT.

Mommy look at me!!!

She just won't sleep! We sang every single friggin' lullaby we know, we didn't let her take too long naps - nothing works!

We then decided to put her in her crib and "just wait 'til she falls asleep". Ha! Not with little Charlotte! She cried and screamed until we came running to her bed. And the she laughed! LAUGHED!

I'm really helpless.

Does someone have a good advice for me? Something that worked with your child?

I'm thankful for every idea!

A long long time ago...

2010-05-21T14:37:00.000-07:00

I know it's been a long time since I posted something here and also on twitter.

I had many reasons. One of them was that I was a bit tired of this social network stuff. I didn't really notice the sociality there. See, even though I tried to find some contacts, most of the time I didn't get an answer (EXCEPT of super nice people like nannyanya or iamalejandra --> best people on twitter!) . I kinda felt lonely there and so I got really frustrated with it.

Now for this blog...you see, English is not my mother tongue and it takes time to write something here. And then I get practically no comments or any feedback at all... Sometimes I'm just wondering if it's really worth the effort.
Besides, my precious little baby girl is keeping me busy! Hee hee

But a few people have asked me for some new pictures of my little daughter Charlotte. I can't say no to that can I? =)

I guess every mother says that, but I think my daughter is the most precious little girl ever :)

But see for yourself... and adore her :)

Taking a bath. Which she doesn't like AT ALL. Maybe you can see that in her ~~annoyed~~ sweet & happy expression ;)

my favorite little girl

My angel

Welcome to the world!

2010-04-05T17:39:00.000-07:00

We couldn't be any happier.

Our shiny new daughter is finally here!

Two weeks early, but all healthy and fine!

Charlotte Anne

April 6, 2010.

1:03 am

2900 g (6,4 lbs...probably)

46.9 cm (18,5 inches)

Mother and daughter are both doing fine!

Welcome to the world little Charlotte!

I'll be missing you

2010-03-01T11:53:00.000-08:00

I thought a long time about what title I should use for this post.

17 years ago, the worst happened.
My dad moved out. My mother wanted a divorce.

I was only 4 years old.
And I didn't understand.
I didn't talk anymore. I wanted my dad back.
My mother was feeling guilty for causing me such pain.
I didn't understand that either.

She thought about what could make me happy again. Then she had an idea.

She got me a kitty.

And I loved it. From the bottom of my heart. The kitty was my everything. It was a girl, so I called her
Minouche.
I started to talk again. Just with the cat, but still, it was an improvement.
I told her everything. I hugged her and cried in her soft, brown, white and black, coat.
She was the friend who was always there for me.
She used to run to the door when she saw me coming home from school.
She used to sleep in my bed, under the blanket, snuggling at me.
I loved her.
And she loved me too.

This morning I got up and prepared her breakfast, as always. I called her name, but she didn't come running.
I went to see what's up.

And there she was, on the couch, in her favorite sleeping position.

She wasn't breathing anymore.

She peacefully died in her sleep.

After 17 years and 10 months.

You might think it's just a cat. But to me, she was more. She was the one who helped me get through the worst time in my life. I told her more than any of my friends.

I'll be missing her.

So so so much.

I can't even express how much it hurts.

Feeling like High School

2010-02-04T11:15:00.000-08:00

I've been on Twitter for a bit more than a year now. At the beginning it was incredibly interesting just to read tweets.
After a while I wanted to participate in discussions. I thought I could just throw in my comments and it'll be as much fun for me as it was (apparently) for the others. So I made comments, remarks and I tried to be positive. I really tried. Sure, I met a few really nice people who actually responded if I had questions but didn't the media say that on Twitter everyone can meet hundreds of new friends? Huh...everyone except for me, I guess.

I had to realize, that Twitter is like High School. The more popular you are, the more fun you have.

There are groups on twitter, like the mommybloggers, or the funny/sarcastic/ whatever mom's or weight loss groups and so many more. As someone who doesn't live in the US or Canada or another big country it is really hard to find people on twitter. Besides, English is not my mother tongue, and I guess people notice that (I apologize for all the grammar mistakes I've done until now OK? Geez.)
I have nothing agains't social media (puh-lease, I'm a facebook-addict) but when you're not in some sort of group, Twitter is probably not as much fun; less people help you when you have a problem. Less people notice when you make a huge announcement. And of course there are less comments on your blog. I spend hours with commenting, even if the blog is crappy (and yes, I know that you probably consider my blog as one of those).

I feel like in High School again. A loner in a community that consists thousands of people.

Maybe it's just me. Am I really that boring/annoying/uninteresting?

My wedding

2009-12-02T11:16:00.000-08:00

November 13th was the day X.

I got married.

I was so nervous I nearly threw up. Yeah, nice way of saying "Yes", huh?

But everything turned out very well. The ceremony, the reception and just the whole day were absolutely awesome and perfect. I wouldn't have it any other way.

My bridesmaids

left to right: My cousin Amélie, my sister-in-law Jessica and my best friend Anne

the flower girl Lisa

where we held the party (an awesome one, by the way)

the church in which we got married

Our wedding cake
which was so incredibly yummy!!!!

For yesterday's memories

today's love

and

tomorrow's dreams

the 12th week

2009-11-05T11:43:00.000-08:00

I had an appointment at my new gynecologist today.
Two weeks ago I've been there too, just to make sure the pregnancy test I made at home was right.

I have no idea about pregnancies. I didn't know if I'd get a picture of my baby or something.

I got one.

And it made me cry. Even though my baby isn't looking like a baby yet. I was flat out overwhelmed.

I blame the hormones!

So many Questions

2009-10-21T09:31:00.000-07:00

So I found out that I was pregnant.

And I have so many questions. Mostly it's about the pregnancy itself. And the time after my child is born. I talked to my best friend about this and she said:

"You are a babysitter! You're lookin' after kids for years now. You know what to do."

Huh. Never thought about that. I started babysitting when I was 13. I don't wanna sound arrogant or something, but I am a really good babysitter. Kids seem to love me the moment I step into a house. It's a bit weird sometimes.
Anyways, my friend is right. I know how to handle kids. BUT, those kids weren't my own.
This is an important fact for me. Don't get me wrong, I never, NEVER hurt the kids I babysat on purpose, nor did I teach them stupid things. Never! But there is this this thought in my mind that says: Would you do the same with your own child?

I just don't know whether all this experience is enough. I don't know what kind of mom I'll be.

I don't know anything.
I'm scared.

Baby time

2009-10-15T10:16:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, my fiancé told me that he wouldn't mind starting a family.

I didn't know what to say. I always thought that men don't want children too soon.

Yeah, my picture of a man is very old-fashioned. An unmarried man likes to party with his friends, not looking after children. I know, this is a cliché. But it's kinda stuck in my head.

That is why I was so surprised that my fiancé told me about his desire to start a family. He is a really good man, I don't have any doubt about this. He's always reasonable and he's rarely acting childish. (Imagine a typical teacher. That's pretty much how sexy M. is like).

I thought about kids frequently, but now that there was a real plan (or at least a wish) it scared me. I don't know how it's like to be responsible for a little human being. I mean, this is something BIG. I don't know how to be a good parent.

What is a good mother like? Strict? Or not strict at all? Or....or....or....

I had so many questions, but at the same time I knew that I wanted this, too. I want to start all this with him. It's him, he's Mr. Right.

So, I stopped taking the birth control pill. My doctor said that it would probably take a few months until I'd be pregnant. Fine with me.

We didn't start to do weird Kamasutra things. Just...you know, normal stuff. All was good.

Eight days ago I thought: "Oh no, tomorrow my monthly present's gonna arrive. Damnit."

It didn't. No signs of the red Lady.

Hmmm. Doctor said this could happen, since I stopped the pill. She said my hormones would probably be on a rollercoaster for a while.

Third day: red Lady wasn't here yet. I got a little nervous.

Seventh day: red Lady nowhere to be seen. Ok. Went to the pharmacy to buy a test. It took me two days to finally do it. Two days until I got my shit together. (Am I just a real sissy or did anyone of you too had this...fear?)

Anyways, this afternoon I made the test. I was alone at home.

It took 4 minutes until I had the result. 4 long minutes. I paced around in the bathroom, like an idiot.

To make a long story short (I know, this story already is long...), here's the result I got:

I guess it's baby time.

14.02.1968 - 6.10.2009

2009-10-07T11:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my uncle died.

Diagnosis: Acute Leukemia

He leaves two children behind, Jess (13) and Yves (11).

Have you ever had to say "Your dad has passed away two hours ago" to two kids who were coming home from school, laughing because they had a funny day?

It's not a good feeling.

I never really believed in god. It's just not something I can believe.

I know, many people are gonna hate me for saying this, but my uncle's death is enough proof for me.

If there really is a god, why would he want to make two innocent kids suffer?!

One of the religious people in my school said: "It might be kind of a test, something god needs them to go through. Because it's god's plan."

Yeah...what a ~~shit-damnit-super-idiotic~~ wonderful plan.

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares."

Henry Nouwen

Are you ready fro the new life?

2009-09-26T14:35:00.000-07:00

"Are you ready for marriage?" I asked my friend Ali. Me and my best friend Anne had lunch in a bistro with him. We wanted to support him, since he was going to marry in a few days. He's a muslim and hasn't lived with a woman before. EVER.
He looked at me, puzzled. "Of course I'm ready", he hissed and put a napkin on his knees. "I already bought a second pillow!"
    Anne and I glanced at each other and bursted out laughing. We knew our friend had a very faint idea of how marriage really works and how it would be to share one's life with another person. He only thought about himself, typical for him.
    "Fatima is the the calm one in our relationship. I'm more like...the boss. She understands. We agreed on that." Ali exclaimed.
"None of us three is the calm one in our relationships" added Anne. "We're always the bad ones. But that doesn't matter. Things could change you know, Ali...."
    "Yeah," I added. "You could already throw away all your CD's , for example. Cause your fiancée will probably think that they're appalling."
"And you should always, at any rate, have a phone, a phone card or a lot of chump change with you so you can call her wherever you are!" said Anne.
    "And instead of listening to music while falling asleep, you're gonna hear soft waves or jungle sounds instead" I quipped. "Women need that. I, for example, like the sound of the fan."
"Oooh yeah," said Anne, "I have the waves-cd. And you won't go to an after-work party again. The alternative is: Dinner at home."
    I nodded. "And once you're home from work you'll have to ask her if you wanna go out again."
"EXCEPT" chipped Anne in, "when she sends you to the grocery store."
    "Except she sends you to the grocery store." I agreed.
"And don't fool yourself with the mail. You'll never have it in your hands first EVER AGAIN." said Anne. "Your mail will always be checked, until the day you die."
    "And after your wedding you'll never be as happy at home as you were before. You'll like your office way more." said Anne.
"Exactly," I said, "and if she laughed about your jokes until now, she faked it." I warned him.
    "And if you've told a story once, you shouldn't tell it a second or third time," Anna explained, "cause with every repitition she'll hate you a little bit more."
"In two years she won't be bound to have sex with you anymore" I claimed. "But if you're a lucky one, and she still wants to, then you should be very, very thankful."
    "And try not to say things like 'Yes, baby, do it...' or 'Give it to me, bitch' " Anna pleaded, "And on't wake her up in the middle of the night just because your....male sex drive is creeping over."

Ali looked at us for a while and tried to memorize what we said. I saw how he knit his brows and the corners of his mouth went...downwards. I already thought he'd start to cry and I kinda panicked. Did we exaggerate a little too much? Had we been too honest? Did we shock him too much? Had we gone too far? Would he cancel the weding now? I looked at Anna and I knew she had the exact same thoughts.

What had we done?!?! We really were the bad ones!

"Maybe you girls are right," Ali said, " Maybe I'm not ready for marriage yet. How could I've been so stupid? What did I think?! I must've gone nuts!"

Anna and I didn't know what to say. We were just sitting there, a bit freake out. Our mouths were half open and we were ready to protest. WHAT HAD WE DONE?!?!

"I admit it, I don't have a second pillow! I admit it!" Ali explained and stamped his foot. Then he looked at us and smiled wickedly.

I love my friends :-)

UPDATE: When I started writing this post my life was still normal. Barely did I know that it would change so soon! My boyfriend proposed! I'm officially engaged!

Can you see the irony here? ;-)

I'm not "the wife", fucker!

2009-09-09T07:03:00.000-07:00

I've known my boyfriend for 4 years now. And we're a couple since 98 days. I love him more than I can express. Sure, sometimes we have our arguments, but one of us always gives in (mostly it's him. I'm just too stubborn).
Sexy M is legally still married to his soon-to-be ex-wife, I lovingly call her Slutty-elle. But 6 months ago he filed for divorce (BEFORE he and I got together! I'm not a homewrecker, OK?) and today he finally signed the...hmmmm, how's that called....a divorce contract? Divorce papers? Anyways, he signed them. That's all that matters for me. Now I'm just hoping that Slutty-elle will sign it fast, too.
But that is not what really bothers me. We went to a restaurant for lunch today. It's a really good one ( you know, where you have to behave properly and so on...). The waiter was pretty cold and reserved and I got the feeling as if he'd want to kick me us out. He didn't deign looking at me for one second. He chose to only talk to sexy M (who's always being well mannered and so on. Ugh.).
"Have you and your wife already decided?" he asked sexy M. I totally felt left out. I wanted to tell him that I wouldn't mind being looked at AND that I'm not the wife. Since when do you have to be married to go to a good restaurant, huh? HUH?
Ok, maybe I overreacted a little. I blame it on PMS.
Though, in the end the waiter made a really nice compliment (Of course he didn't say it to me directly, that bastard).
"You have a really lovely wife, sir!" he said with a, in my opinion stupid, grin on his face.
Sexy M smiled back and said: "Yeah, isn't it? She's awesome"

This is what bothered me. He didn't correct the waiter, quite the contrary. I mean, I loooooove him, but I'm not sure if people should see me as his wife.

Is it stupid to be scared of that?

The Witchery Tour or how I got the idea of neutering/ castration

2009-09-06T20:58:00.000-07:00

So, yesterday sexy M and I went to the famous Witchery Tour.
Just a little explanation what exactly a Witchery Tour is: You’re led around the Old Town by a deceased tour guide who regales various ghoulish tales. On route you will meet "jumper-ooters" - costumed characters employed to appear at inopportune times in an attempt to surprise you.

The tour guide's name was "Adam Lyal" (picture on the left!). This person actually lived a few hundred years ago and he told us legends and stuff. It was pretty cool. We walked through the dark streets of the Old Town and I was pretty scared. I clinged to sexy M's arm (I'm pretty sure his arm was numb after the Tour was over) and every little noise made me jump.

The last story the tourguide told us was the story about William Wallace (you know, the Braveheart guy). Wallace was a scottish freedom fighter but was captured by the english soldiers. To make a long story short: he didn't want to pledge loyalty to the english king and they tortured him because of that. I don't remember everything in details, but I do remember one thing: they castrated him, chopped off his balls. Ouch.

On our way home, sexy M and I were both quiet. The whole torturing thing occupied our minds.
"Did you like the tour?" he asked me.
"Yeah...I did. You?" I answered hesitantly.
"Mmmmh-hmmm...yeah, it was pretty cool."
The rest of the ride neither of us said anything. At home sexy M made me a sandwich (oh yes, he does that sometimes. When I ask. But he always asks for a little...hmmm....reward. But I digress now.) and then we went to bed and watched tv. I know, some of you will think: 'What? A tv in the bedroom? Freaks!'. But I just can't sleep when it's all quiet. Deal with it.
Anyways, as we decided to be all classy and watch a documentary on the "Docu-Channel". And guess what the topic was... The topic was: 'Castration- voluntary or a must?' I, too, thought: What the fuck?!?! But it was actually pretty interesting.
They addressed the question, wheter pedophiliacs shoud get castrated as a punishment or not.
I have to admit, that I can't answer this question for myself. I don't have children. I don't know how it must feel for a mother whose child was abused. I think I would feel hate. And I would want this person to pay for what he did. Sexy M agreed, but he also said that it would be quite an inhuman punishment.

Like I already said, I don't know what to think.
What about you? I'd be happy to get some opinions in the comments!

The battle's on....(My arm has a right to live!!!)

2009-08-26T14:09:00.000-07:00

In about two weeks, nursery school's gonna restart.
Our school is pretty ~~boring~~ progressive. At least that's what I thought. I mean, we have really good teachers which we're allowed to address informally, they teach us the newest stuff. And well, it's just fun to be in school. But a few weeks ago I changed my mind a little. I met a woman from Texas (@fabmomtofour) on twitter. She is a registered nurse and I told her about how we excercise. And with excercise I mean giving shots, taking blood samples etc. It doesn't take long to explain that:

We exercise on each other.

The first thing we learned was to apply a substance intramuscular. So, we had to exercise in groups of two. The other person who was in my group is, may I say, not really talented. I won't engross further, I only say: IT HURT. He injected the damned needle over 3 times and he did it slowly. Idiot.
Anyways, I thought we were progressive. But @fabmomtofour told me that this was kinda barbaric (she didn't say barbaric but something like that. Just something negative, OK?!) Apparently where she went to school they have some kind of fake-robot-arms and stuff to exercise.
How cool! I wish our school had this too! It would mean waayyyyy less pain!

I couldn't stop thinking about this. So I wrote an email to the dean of the german speaking section of our school, Mrs. Piller. I asked her why WE didn't have those robot thingies since it would be better for us (and our arms and legs and fingers and....ahem.....yeah).

"They're too expensive!" was her answer.

I tried to find information about such robot-arm-thingies but couldn't find anything (if you know a website that contains information, feel free to contact me or leave a comment). Now, therefore I don't know how much such a 'robot' costs and I couldn't bring any arguments to convince Mrs. Piller.
It still bothers me. We have to pay a lot of money to attend this school. What the eff are they doing with it? I mean, they're not paying the teachers since they get their salary from the state. We have to pay the class books ourselves, we pay or own food....ect.
So....where does this money go? Where?

I will find out.
The battle is not over yet.

My bucket list

2009-08-14T14:10:00.001-07:00

"It is important to have an aim in life!"

My great-grandma tells me this, everytime we see each other. She's 85 now and she is my idol. She is such an incredibly strong woman. She was born 1930. She's always been a pretty wild girl. She refused to marry and when she got pregnant (18 years old, still unmarried, wich was, as you can think, a SCANDAL!) her parents kicked her out.

She found herself a job in a factory. She raised my grandpa all by herself. Until this day, she has never been married. But she was together with a guy for over 50 years. She always believed in herself and she never cared what people said.

You might think otherwise, but for me she is a hero. I've always been scared of not finding a Mr. Right and that I'll never marry. But now I realized that my worries were of no avail. I mean, it would be really nice to get married and stuff, but it's not the end of the world if I don't.

My great-grandma has a wonderful life, she always had. And so will I. I believe in that.

I saw the movie 'The bucket list' and it made me think of my great-grandma. I decided to create my own list.

My bucket list

#1: Go to New York

I love this city. I've seen thousands of pictures and I'm amazed by them. I just love the skyline by night, all these wonderful lights and the Statue of Liberty. In my imagination, I walk through the streets at night and I listen to Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" on my iPod. I know, it's cheesy, but it's my dream.

Have you guys seen the movie with Macaulay Culkin, where he's alone in New York? (I'm sorry, I don't know how the movie's called in english. But I guess you know which one I mean...) Anyways, I would also love to see that huge christmas tree in front of that Plaza Hotel....*sigh*

Oh, and let's not forget the naked cowboy! :)

#2: (In case I'll marry one day) I wanna have a huge, big-time wedding

Oh yeah folks, I'm one of those. Those girls who dream of a super-corny wedding. I'd love to have a wonderful white wedding dress, "Here comes the bride" when I'm walked down the aisle by my dad, white roses everywhere, white doves flying into the sky when the ceremony is over. Oh, and I want a big party, with a big band, a nice buffet and a delicious wedding cake.

.....Get the picture? ;)

#3: Become the best nurse ever

What can I say? I love to work in a team. I'm very social. But "nurse" is only the first base. My dream job is to become a midwife. For me, every baby is a little wonder, and I'd love to work with (future-) mom's and with babies.

#4: Have my own family

I hope I'll have my own family one day. I doubt I'll have more than two kids, but hey, never say never! I hope I will be able to have a career and children. I have nothing against stay-at-home-mom's. Far from it! I think this is a super hard job and I admire every woman who is raising her kids and stays at home. It's such a lot of work! But I also dislike the idea, that I have to study more than 4 years to get a Bachelor in nursing /science of nursery and then stay at home. Nuh-uh, I won't drag my ass to school every day for nothing.

Now to the less serious goals:

#5: Shopping without having to worry about being broke in the middle of the month

Once....just once in my life I want to go into the stores, grab the stuff I like and buy it. Without looking at the price tag. I always have this special problem: If I like something that would ACTUALLY FIT, it's too expensive or they don't have it in my size. And the stuff I could afford is....well....not exactly what I wanted.

Is there anyone else in the world with this problem?

#6: Go hiking in the scottish highlands

I guess that is easy to explain. The scottish highlands are wonderful. So peaceful. I've been in scotland several times, but I never went to a REAL hiking tour.

#7: Open an asylum for homeless cats

Oooooh yeeaah, maybe I'll end up as "the lady whose only friends are the cats" Thankfully I really like cats.

#8: Own a chocolate factory

I love chocolate. It makes me happy (and fat, but that's beside the point now...tsk.) when I'm feeling down. So, isn't it only natural that I wanna have my own chocolate factory? And, am I weird? ;)

And last but not least:

#9: Go as Marilyn Monroe to a costume party

Marilyn Monroe was an icon. My great-grandma thinks he boobs looked like melons.

Erm....ok. But one day someone will invite me to a costume party (PLEEEAAAASSSE, INVITE ME! ----> Talkin' about being desperate....) and then I'll wear this white dress she wore. And I'll try to stand somewhere where it's windy.... *sigh*

Nine goals, I think that's not bad. Yeah, some of them are pretty ridiculous, I know. But they're my future. Kind of.

My great-grandma loves my list. And I lover her for approving and being who she is.

2009-08-03T15:17:00.000-07:00

Die meisten von uns träumen ein Leben lang vergeblich von jenen Dingen, die angeblich so erstrebenswert sein sollen: Luxus-Kreuzfahrten, Golfclub-Mitgliedschaften, Designer-Klamotten, Society-Partys. Geld selbst zu verdienen ist anstrengend, deshalb streben viele junge Frauen nach einer Eheschliessung mit einem möglichst solventen und prominenten Vertreter der Männerwelt, wie zum Beispiel....Dieter Bohlen. Der kann einer Frau ganz offensichtlich ein Leben im Luxus und –ganz wichtig- im Scheinwerferlicht der Öffentlichkeit ermöglichen. Mal abgesehen davon, dass ein Leben mit Dieter Bohlen vermutlich schmerzensgeldpflichtig ist, kann ich euch auch sonst beruhigen: Das tolle Leben ist nicht halb so toll wie man denkt!

1. Luxus-Kreuzfahrt. Ich hatte mal Gelegenheit, zwei Tage auf so einem Dampfer der Luxusklasse zu verbringen. Sieht aus wie ein riesiges Hotel, hat aber den Nachteil, dass man nicht auf die Strasse gehen kann. Selbst wenn ihr unter 30 seid, senkt ihr durch eure Anwesenheit den Altersdurchschnitt bestenfalls auf 82. Ihr müsst den lieben langen Tag essen, schliesslich war die Reise teuer genug und soll sich amortisieren. Wenn euch jemand ein Gespräch aufdrängt, ist es schwer, zu entkommen, ausser ihr springt über Bord. Und wenn ihr bei einem Zwischenstopp endlich Land erreicht habt, geht die Fahrt weiter, bevor ihr euch orientiert habt, wo ihr eigentlich seid. Empfehlenswert nur für Fusskranke und Leute, die endlich mal in Ruhe Dieter Bohlens Autobiographie lesen wollen. (Aber wer will das schon?) Genuss-Punkte: 2 von 10

2. Golfclub-Mitgliedschaft. Ich hab Golf noch nie gemocht. Es will mir einfach nicht in den Kopf, dass ein gemütlicher Spaziergang über einen gepflegten Rasen, unterbrochen durch gelegentliches Schwingen eines Schlägers, ernsthaft als Sport zählen soll. Es will mir weiterhin nicht in den Kopf, dass man für dieses Rentner-Vergnügen zehntausende von Franken im Jahr hinblättern muss, nur um nicht mit dem gemeinen Volk in Berührung zu kommen. Ich begreife nicht, wie man Abende lang über Golf reden kann. Und schliesslich finde ich es im höchsten Grade dekadent, dass die exklusiven Golf-Rasenplätze meist da zu finden sind, wo es das wenigste Wasser gibt – auf südlichen Inseln oder in Dritte-Welt-Ländern. Soll ich euch mal verraten wo man GARANTIERT tausendmal mehr Spass hat? Bei einer Partie Minigolf. Kein Witz. Kostet nur 25 .- Fr. für 4 Leute. Ihr spart also 9975.-Fr!
Genuss-Punkte: 1 von 10

3. Designer-Klamotten. Jetzt mal ganz im Ernst: Warum soll ich für ein Kleidungsstück das Zehnfache von dem ausgeben, was nötig ist? Nur, weil hinten im Kragen, übrigens für meine Mitmenschen unlesbar, der Name eines Edel-Labels steht? Bin ich bescheuert? Denn es ist ja nicht mal so, dass die teuren Fetzen besser verarbeitet wären, oh nein, die Knöpfe fallen genauso schnell ab wie bei der Billig-Klamotte, und unmodern sind sie nächstes Jahr auch. Wir kaufen mit einem Designerstück nicht die aussergewöhnliche Qualität, wir kaufen nur die Illusion von Exklusivität, das Gefühl, etwas Besonderes zu haben - und dadurch was Besonderes zu sein. Selbstbewusste und kluge Frauen haben das überhaupt nicht nötig. Die sehen toll aus in preiswerter Kleidung und legen das gesparte Geld für was Sinvolles an (Schuhe?....).
Genuss-Punkte: 3 von 10 (zugegeben: Manchmal ist der Stoff schön)

4. Society-Partys. Ein Volkshochschul-Dia-Vortrag über die Wunder der Serengeti mit anschliessender Diskussion ist unterhaltsamer als ein so genanntes Society-Event, wo tief dekolltierte Damen mit Schlauchboot-Lippen (natürlich sind die echt! Die Lippen erscheinen halt voller wenn man sich die Haare färbt!!!) und zu Geld gekommene Herren mit schütter werdendem Haar ihre Balzrituale vollziehen. Ein gewisses voyeuristisches Vergnügen räume ich ein, falls man das Glück hat, Zeuge von Entgleisungen (Schlägerei, hysterische Krise einer Schauspielerin, kopulierendes Paar auf dem Damenklo) zu werden. Passiert leider selten, und wenn, kriegt man's meistens doch nicht mit.
Genuss-Punkte: 2 von 10 (Essen und Trinken sind umsonst.)

5. Licht der Öffentlichkeit. Ist schon komisch: Erst wollen die Leute alle berühmt werden, und wenn sie's endlich sind, beklagen sie sich, dass sie nicht mehr im Schlafanzug die Zeitung holen können, weil Papparazzi ihre Villa belagern. Aber wehe, das Licht der Öffentlichkeit droht zu verblassen, dann rufen die Promis schnell bei einer Zeitung an und laden die Paparazzi zu sich nach Hause ein. Genuss-Punkte: 1, wenn man drin steht, 10, wenn man nicht drin steht. (Erstrebenswert ist eben nur, was man nicht hat.)

Mein Rat: Geniesst euer Leben und seid froh, dass ihr nicht mit Dieter Bohlen verheiratet seid!

Der nutzlose schwarze BH und das Zwölf-Stufen-Programm zur Volltrunkenheit

2009-07-28T11:21:00.000-07:00

Michael und ich waren fünfmal hintereinander die Strasse heruntergefahren. Wir suchten nach David und Linda, unseren Freunden, denen wir eigentlich folgen und die wir aufsammeln sollten, nachdem das GoIn, unsere Lieblingsbar, geschlossen hatte.
Sie waren zehn Minuten vor uns gegangen, um den knappen Kilometer zurück zu Davids Haus zu Fuss zurückzulegen. Sie waren dermassen betrunken, dass sie nicht einmal mehr wussten, wo sie ihr Auto abgestellt hatten. Jetzt waren sie nirgends zu sehen.
Linda hatte vor einem Jahr das Trinken aufgegeben, um ihrem anderen Ich, Otis Campbell, keine Möglichkeit mehr zu bieten, hervorzukommen und sie in der Öffentlichkeit durch extrem peinliche Aktionen lächerlich zu machen. Heute Nacht war Otis rachdurstig zurückgekehrt. Seine Anwesenheit machte sich deutlich bemerkbar, nachdem Linda die ersten fünf Bier getrunken hatte. Schon bevor sie überhaupt einen Fuss in das GoIn gesetzt hatte, hatte sie mit ihren augen gerollt, und sie war bereits ein paar Mal fast umgekippt. Wir sahen, wie sie sich an der Jukebox festhielt, um das Gleichgewicht zu halten, weil sie vor und zurück schwankte und dabei verzweifelt versuchte, ihren Blick auf irgendetwas zu fixieren, während sie gleichzeitig ein paar Münzen in die Jukebox warf, um ihren Lieblingssong zu hören: "Hey Jealousy".
Während sie vor sich hin summte, erklörte sie Michael, dass sie ein magisches Schwangerschaftsfeuerzeug besitzen würde. Wenn es funktionierte und anging, sei sie schwanger. Wenn es nur Funken sprühte, sei sie es nicht. Sie zündete das Feuerzeug und es sprühte nur Funken.
"Mein Freund glaubt, dass er er unfruchtbar ist", lallte sie mit schielenden Augen. "Aber ich habe ihm gesagt: ' Mit Platzpatronen schiessen macht genauso viel Krach, Süsser.' "
Sogar ich schnaubte vor Lachen.
Aber jetzt, um 1:30 Uhr, konnten wir weder Linda noch David finden.
"Wann geben wir die Suche auf und gehen nach Hause, um uns zu Ende zu besaufen?", wollte Michael wissen, weil ihn die ewige Herumfahrerei langsam anödete.
Innerhalb kürzester Zeit hatte ich Michael jedoch davon überzeugt, dass ein betrunkenes Mädchen zwar selten ein hübsches Mädchen sei, dass jedoch der betrunkene Zustand es geradezu herausfordere, es zu fotografieren. Das Warten würde sich auf jeden Fall lohnen.
Es gibt eine bestimmte Reihenfolge von Stufen, die beim Betrinken bewältigt werden müssen, um das Prädikat "Stinkbesoffen" verliehen zu bekommen. Eine chronologische Abfolge von Handlungen, die hundertprozentig garantieren, dass man das volle Spass-Potenzial der Nacht ausnutzt.
Die fröhlich-freche Linda hatte diese Schule mit Auszeichnung (mitsamt Sternchen) abgeschlossen.

Das Zwölf-Stufen-Programm zur Volltrunkenheit

1. Stufe: der Drink ruft

Er bettelt dich an, und du reagierst einfach. Es klingt wie eine gute Idee, es fühlt sich richtig an, aber du beschliesst, nicht zu weit zu gehen.

2. Stufe: Finanzlage

Wenn die Ersparnisse gering sind und du nicht ein komplettes Monatsgehalt durchbringen willst, musst du dich eintscheiden, ob du das Arme-Leute-Besaufen wählst (d.h. auf völlig nüchternen Magen trinken), oder ob du irgendeine Chance siehst, andere Leute für dich bezahlen zu lassen.

3. Stufe: der passende Saufkumpan

Die richtige Begleitung zu finden, ist manchmal etwas schwierig, aber eine gute Wahl ist unbezahlbar. Du musst darauf achten, dass du keinen anfänger aussuchst, weil du dich sonst am Ende unvermeidlich um ihn kümmern und irgendwelche Körperflüssigkeiten aufwischen musst. Andererseits darfst du auch niemanden wählen, der trinkfest genug ist und dir Hot Dogs in die Hose steckt oder deine augen mit Zahnpasta zuzementiert, wenn du das Bewusstsein verloren hast.

4. Stufe: das Klirren der Eiswürfel, das Krachen der Öse

Der erste Schluck, der wundervoll und viel versprechend ist, das erste Lecken der Lippen, gleich einer Taufe der Trunkenheit, die geduldig vor einem liegt. Der Trinker fängt an, sich wohl zu fühlen, er wirft nüchterne Haut ab wie Schuppen, die mit jedem Drink immer grösser werden.

(Die nächsten acht Stufen können schnell aufeinander folgen, oder sogar simultan geschehen!)

5. Stufe: traurige Erinnerungen

"Es ist mir egal, dass ich ihn nackt auf der Couch mit einem anderen Mädchen gesehen habe, ich weiss, dass er mich wirklich gelieb hat. Warum hat er mich verlassen? Warum? Kann mir irgendjemand sagen, warum?" Dies ist die sinnloseste aller zwölf Stufen. Meistens dreht sich das Gespräch um Beziehungen und kann schliesslich zu sehr unklugen Anrufen führen, was letztlich dazu führt, dass du jeden anrufst, mit dem du mal was hattest, weil du felsenfest davon überzeugt bist, jetzt deine Gefühle zeigen zu müssen.

6. Stufe: der Wunsch, sich auszuziehen und dass Fremde doch bitte dasselbe

tun mögen

Der Auszieh-wunsch kommt meist nach den anrufen, wenn man sich wieder eine Abfuhr geholt hat.

7. Stufe: Mathematik

Du fängst an, dir auszurechnen, wie viele Stunden dir noch bleiben, bis du wieder voll funktionsfähig sein musst. "Ich kann 15 Minuten länger schlafen, wenn ich die Dusche weglasse", "ich werde die gleichen Klamotten tragen wie jetzt. Auf diese Weise muss ich keine Zeit damit verschwenden, nach sauberer Wäsche zu suchen."

8. Stufe: die 'Kurz-vor-Zapfenstreich-Bestandsaufnahme'

Eine schnelle Abschätzung der Lage bringt dich zu dem Schluss, dass du, egal wie viel Alkohol du schon konsumiert hast. unbedingt noch mehr haben musst, weil es noch nicht reicht. Und zwar SOFORT, weil dies die wichtigste Mission deines Lebens ist.

9. Stufe: Lass uns mal was essen

Ein kleiner Abstecher zu einem Drive-In, weil du viel zu betrunken bist, um in einem Restaurant zu sitzen. Auto fahren kannst du natürlich noch. Du kaufst Fastfood im Wert von 50.- Fr., das du aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach noch vor Sonnenaufgang in leicht veränderter Form wieder von dir geben wirst. In diesem Stadium wirst du Sachen essen, die du normalerweise nich einmal deinem Hund zu fressen gibst, wie zum Beispiel Mikrowellen-Burger oder drei Burger zum Preis von einem.

10. Stufe: Ich fühle mich gut in meiner Haut

Du bist geistreich. Du fängst an, dich hübsch, sexy und superschlank zu fühlen. Jetzt willst du wirklich nackt sein, und du findest, so ziemlich jeder Mensch sieht gut aus. Du denkst nicht lange darüber nach, ob du einem Wildfremden deine Zunge in den Hals schiebst, selbst wenn hundert Leute zusehen. Es kann dir passieren, dass du den Wunsch verspürst, bestimmten Personen zu erzählen, dass du sie liebst, und dies ist ein absolut sicheres Zeichen dafür, dass du lieber nach Hause gehen solltest.

11. Stufe: Unsichtbarkeit

Du glaubst, dass du unsichbar bist und du Dinge tun kannst, für die es später keine Zeugen geben wird, beispielsweise in die Büsche pinkeln oder in den Rinnstein / Mülleimer kotzen. In diesem Zustand wirst du dich nicht mehr daran erinnern können, was du zuletzt gesagt hast, oder du wirst beschliessen, dass die Strasse ein wundervoller Ort ist, um sich kurz hinzulegen.

12. Stufe: die Pausenschleife im Hirn

Du bist zu keiner Kommunikation mehr imstande. Vielleicht kannst du gerade noch mit dem Kopf schütteln. Die Fähigkeit, Entscheidungen zu treffen, hat sich in Luft aufgelöst. Das Gleiche gilt für dein gesamtes Geld, die Funktionsfähigkeit deiner Gliedmassen und, Gott sei's gedankt, dein Bewusstsein.

Als wir David endlich auf der Strasse sitzend fanden, hatte er Stufe 10 erreicht.

"Wir haben uns vor euch versteckt", kicherte er, als er in das Auto einstieg. "Wir haben euch fünf Mal die Strasse runterfahren sehen. Sind wir nicht gut im Verstecken?"

Ich war sauer. "Wo ist die andere Hälfte der Idioten-Zwillinge?", fragte ich.

"Ich habe keine Ahnung", antwortete er. "Ich hab sie verloren."

"Du hast Linda verloren?"

"Ja. Sie dachte, wir wären in der richtigen Strasse und fing an zu laufen, na ja, sie hat's zumindest versucht. Sie ist ziemlich oft hingefallen", meinte er. "Ich glaube nicht, dass wir sie finden werden. Ich wette, sie versteckt sich immer noch."

Ich fuhr die Strasse rauf. Ich fuhr die Strasse runter. Wir konnten sie nicht finden. Eine ganze Dreiviertelstunde kurvten wir in der ganzen Gegend herum, sahen hinter Sträuchern, Zäunen und Autos nach. Wir fragten verschiedene Leute, ob sie ein betrunkenes Mädchen gesehen hätten, und gingen ihren Hinweisen nach.

Wir fuhren zurück zu der Strasse, in der David sie verloren hatte, und hielten nach ihr Ausschau.

"Halt an", sagte Michael plötzlich. "Da isst sie. Sie sollte sich vielleicht doch lieber ihr Shirt wieder anziehen."

Ich dachte, er würde einen Scherz machen. Ich betete, dass es nur Spass war. Aber als ich aus dem Wagen stieg und zu Michael hinüberging, sah ich Linda, die wie eine Tote in irgendeinem Vorgarten lag, in einer verödeten Landschaft, oben ohne. Das Einzige, was sie oberhalb der Taille noch anhatte, war ein schwarzer BH, der auch nicht mehr ganz dort sass, wo er sitzen sollte.

"Jetzt erinnere ich mich", bemerkte David. "Sie hat dauernd gesagt, dass ihr heiss ist."

Da Linda mindestens ihr Körpergewicht an Bier verkonsumiert hatte und aussah wie ein Sandsack mit Armen und Beinen, mussten wir alle drei anpacken, um die kleine Meerjungfrau hoch genug zu heben, dass sich ihre Brüste wieder verpacken konnte. In ihrem Rücken steckten kleine Schottersteine.

Das hier war weitaus schlimmer als damals, als sie einmal in einer Bar in ihre Handtasche gekotzt hatte und wir dafür rausgeschmissen worden waren. Es war auch schlimmer als das eine Mal, als ich sie in einer Bar verloren und sie dann eine Stunde später bewusstlos auf meiner Kühlerhaube wiedergefunden hatte. Mein Wagen stand damals direkt vor dem Haupteingang der Bar, und ein paar Jungs waren gerade dabei, Steine nach ihr zu werfen. Auch folgendes Ereignis reichte nicht an das heutige heran: Sie hatte in einer anderen Bar getanzt , war zu nah an den Rand der Bühne geraten und ins Schlagzeug gefallen, wobei sie es vollkommen zerstört hatte. Und diese BH-Geschichte war mit Sicherheit auch weitaus schlimmer als der Tag, an dem sie zu einer Party im Haus der Eltern ihres damaligen dänischen Freundes gegangen war und die anderen dänischen gäste angeschrien hatte: "Shmorgedy borgedy norgedy! Wir sind hier in der Schweiz Leute, also redet verdammt noch mal Deutsch!!" Als der Freund versuchte, das letzte bisschen Ehre, das die beiden noch besassen, zu retten, schmiss er sie wie einen Mehlsack über seine Schulter, um gleich darauf das entsetzte Stöhnen von siebzig Dänen zu vernehmen, die Zeuge wurden, wie sich das schweizerische Mädchen bepinkelte.

Heute Nacht jedenfalls hatte sie den Doktorgrad im Volltrunkenheitsprogramm erlangt. Zweifellos hatte sie den Rahmen des Spass-Potenzials nicht nur voll ausgeschöpft, sie hatte ihn regelrecht GESPRENGT.

Und die Moral von der Geschicht....na ja....ich hab vergessen wo die ist.

R.I.P.

2009-06-25T16:40:00.000-07:00

A good man has gone to heaven too soon.

Send a prayer for him and his three little children.

He was taken too soon.

Rest In Peace Michael Jackson

On a mission against bitches

2009-06-23T09:36:00.000-07:00

I'm gonna tell you about a girl I know. We were in the same class.
She and I, we're totally different. I'll give you a description, first one of me then of her.
A short description of me:

I don't care about how rich my friends are. Nor do I care if they're popular or super pretty. These things just don't matter to me.
I'm a quiet person. I'm not someone who likes to take the lead. As one of my teacher said, I'm a "quiet worker".
School and education is something I take serious. I do what the teachers say. I listen during class and I do my homework (ok, except for maths :-P ). I rather learn for tests, than cheat.
I like to go out. But not every night during the weekend. And when I go out, I rarely drink. I'm not against alcohol, I just....I can't drink that much. It's simply not my thing. And I don't smoke. Never did, never will. If people want to smoke - ok. It's their decision, not mine.

A short description of the girl I'm talking about:

She judges people by their clothes and looks. If someone wears some older clothes which aren't the newest or coolest anymore she makes mean comments behind the persons back. She even badtalks her best friends. She's always wearing "fashionable" things. Though sometimes we all think it looks totally stupid. She think she is a model, but she really isn't. Ooooh no....
She loves to be the center of attention. If she isn't, she'd do something to get the attention. ALWAYS. No matter what. She speaks loud and she always wants to be the boss.
She is a cheater. There wasn't one single test, where she didn't cheat. And if someone had a bad mark, she said: "You should've learned more". And when she had a bad mark, she played it down. And during class she rarely listened.
She goes out every weekend. And she always drinks a lot. I mean, she has the money, since her parents pay for everything. Even for her car. And for her, everyone who doesn't smoke is uncool.

So, you see, she's the complete opposite of me. Don't get me wrong, I accept everyone. If I don't like someone, I ignore the person.

But with this girl it was different. One day, I was eating lunch with my friends, when she came to me and asked if I could help her. The finals were coming and she had huge problems in english grammar. Languages are my thing and I love to learn them. So, that day she asked me if I could explain the english grammar to her. I'm not a bad person (normally) and I said I'd help her.

The next day I had a terrible headache and during the big break I went outside to get a bit of fresh air. I saw this girl sitting in the grass with her friends. She couldn't see me, I was near some trees.

But I could hear her. I told ya she has a loud voice.

"Oh god, yeah" she said, "she is such a geek. She always has good marks. I bet she's learning every single minute at home. But she agreed on helping me. That stupid bitch, haha."

My first intention was, to go over and tell her off. But then I had a better idea. An evil idea, yeah...but a good one. Just once I wanted to be a bad girl.

So, I told two of my friends about what this girl had said. And we decided to make a plan:

Make her think we want to be her friends and would do anything to be seen with her
"Help" her with the grammar. Which means; teach hear ridiculous grammar rules.
Sabotage her in all the other classes too!

Our mission was born: Mission 0007 !!!

We did pretty well. We tried to gain her confidence. We told her every day how increeeeeeedibly good she'd look and asked her several times how we could become as popular. I taught her weird and stupid rules. She was sure she'd make super good marks. I know, that's quite mean. But, I'm super proud of myself.

Anyways, we thought we should give the name 'Mission 0007' kind of a sense. So, during the rest of the year, our goal was to sabotage her 7 times. And that's what we did. We took like, 4 books of hers, 2 stacks of sheets and, in the end we also took her agenda.

We will always be proud of what we have done. I know, I know... it was super childish. But you know what?

I. DON'T. CARE.

Oh...nostalgia...these were fun times.

Decisions

2009-05-16T09:39:00.000-07:00

It's been a weird day. I woke up at 3pm and I knew the day would end up bad. One hour later my feeling was confirmed. I had to meet with dad. In a bowling alley. Yippie....

Anyways, When I was back at home, I remembered that I still had to do some work for school. I must say I've been really lazy this year. I haven't done anything, no learning, no re-reading things, nothing. We only have exams at the end of the year not during the year. Last september when school started I thought: "Wow! No tests during the year! That is so cool!" Now I think: "Damn, I should've learned more. We should've had more tests during the year." I asked myself: Why didn't you learn more? I found the answer. Too soon, though. I am not interested in this stuff.

It's out now. If I would have to point out one thing that I learned this year, something that supports my decision to become a nurse, I wouldn't know what to say. Of course, we had good times. But I realized a while ago that I made the wrong decision. I don't like to take care of elderly people. It's not my thing. AT ALL. Back at the FMS I thought "hey, not all the patients are old!". Well, most of them are. 75%. Too much. I don't want to do this. But it's too late.

It has always been my dream to study languages. I love to learn languages. That is my thing.
Is it too late?

My first blog!

2009-05-15T11:54:00.000-07:00

Wow, my first blog entry ever! That's quite cool!

About 2 years ago, it was a very rainy and boring day, I watched a few videos on youtube. Somehow, and I really don't remember how, I ended up watching the vlog of faintstarlite. I was amazed how many people actually follow such vlogs. I wanted people to follow me too. Unfortunately I'm not the kind of person who likes to be in videos. I don't like to hear myself speaking. Then I noticed that faintstarlite had a blog too! Having my own blog, that's something I could do too!
And here I am now, trying to create my very first blog entry.

Ok, now, a few things about myself. I'm a 20 year old girl from Switzerland. I'm studying nursery and midwifery. I have two crazy cats: Minouche and Bubi. Bubi actually thinks she's a dog. But that's not the point here ;-)
I love to read. My favorite authors are Agatha Christie and Laurie Notaro. And I'm hoplessly in love with the Harry Potter books. (Oh, and Spongeboob, but it's quite stupid to mention that here, since Spongebob isn't even a book). I love to surf in the internet and watching TV. I'm a real couch potatoe though.....I should learn...

I hope someone will read my blog. I'm gonna post the URL on twitter though....
I think I'm gonna stop here. My brain is like...empty. I better shut up before I write some stupid shit :-D (I am allowed to say shit, I'm european ---> no censorship here)