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Thursday, June 27, 2013

Growing up wunderbar



I grew up a spunky German child, though I didn't know it at the time.

I never thought to inquire about my family’s cultural background, I was born in America. As far as I was concerned my culture was American culture. Then when I was in grade school, my class was assigned a family tree project. I thought it would be as simple as asking my grandparents who their grandparents were. My paternal grandfather was useless in this capacity, he complained his age made him forgetful, and that maybe we are Swedish or something.
 
  My older sister had made a family tree when she had been in grade school, and being more ambitious than I it was pretty well done. Mom had kept the folded up poster board project, because it was the most elaborate explanation of our lineage. I pretty much plagiarized it, kinda sorta, I mean it's my family tree can I really steal it? I learned that on my Mother's side, we are German. The tree on my father's side looked like a stump.

I went to class and was as usual too nervous to present my tree. All the other kids had such big trees with cool histories. I began to notice most all of them were Irish, Scottish and English. A whole class of Irish, Scottish or English kids, it was crazy. There was like a Korean kid just to shake things up. But mostly Irish, Scottish and English. I felt so envious of my best friend, her family had Scottish lineage and they could even trace to which clan their namesake came from. I wanted to be Irish soooooo bad, I thought Irish was tops. When it was my turn, I thanked jeebus for overachieving sisters. I explained the only thing I knew for sure was my family was descended from a long and distinguished line of German people that thrived in Berkey, Ohio.

  I didn’t think much at the time of being the only German kid in class. Until recess came, all the kids were playing Indiana Jones. When I was brave enough to get close to the popular kids I’d try to play nice, besides which I loved Indiana Jones and hoped one day I to could be a globetrotting adventurer. The girls always had to be the kidnapped victims and didn’t get to do anything cool. The boys got to rescue them because they were all Indiana Jones. I wanted to be Indiana Jones too, or at the very least the leader of a Kali Cult.
The other kids were more taken with my being German than I was. I was immediately type cast as the Nazi. 


 I was so depressed; Indiana Jones had thus far been my introduction to fascist society. And according to kids, all Germans were born Nazi’s. I couldn’t defend myself against their accusations, I didn’t know anything about Germany aside from Indiana Jones. So I began telling the other children that my family came to America so they didn’t have to be Nazi’s. But a child’s logic at the time was thus, if you’re German you’re Nazi. I immediately felt responsible for WW2. But I still maintained that they should not get to be Dr. Jones, they weren’t real archeologist, and their doctorates were questionable. I didn’t know it at the time but I was already feeling the hurt of typecasting.
                              Anton Diffring, Kurt Kruger, and Henry Victor, I feel ya buddies. 


As I grew up, cultural background came up from time to time, except now I am more prepared for the inevitable. “Farfignewtons! Like Nazis and stuff?!”  Good ole German far fig newtons. But now I’m prepared with knowledge, “No not like Nazi’s! Like apple strudel and Oktoberfest! Like polka, sausage and fast cars and stuff!”

  I didn’t give too much of a crap about being German growing up. But now that I’m older, I feel like I want to connect with my roots. No I’m not going to learn German, it’s too damn hard. Maybe I’ll find my roots elsewhere? Like maybe I’ll find that I’m genetically predisposed to looking good in dirndl dresses or making black forest cake or holding steins or invading Poland...I mean making beer! That’s what I meant to say! MAKING BEER!

    Oh scheisse!   




Tuesday, May 28, 2013

The Carhartts Jacket



 I had been unaccustomed to really cold winters, and was looking for a stylish yet functional coat. Imagine my surprise when my husband purchased me a Carhartts jacket. I figured why not? , it was snowing and I needed something to wear outside.
When the jacket arrived, it was…well it was…

Let’s just say it was as stiff as the frozen corpse I hoped not to be. The seaming in the shoulder area is so that I cannot raise my arms up very well. It’s boxy, certainly it wasn’t form flattering. I resembled a 1950’s Sci-Fi robot made from a cardboard box.
 I raced online to find what I could do to soften the fabric, not much as it turns out. Someone gave advice to work under a tractor all day in the mud and that would soften it up. From the reviews, I got the impression Carhartts were for people who led a more rugged lifestyle than city dwelling me. 

 I complained about the jacket near constantly, I would clomp around the apartment wearing it saying “Fire bad!” I think it began to hurt my husband’s man feelings. So I shut up and began to wear it more often.

One day at a bus stop, I saw a bunch of ladies in their flattering coats looking totally fashion forward and freezing. Whilst I stood among them, invulnerable in my iron lung of a jacket.  So really, it isn’t such a bad jacket after all. I can do lots in my Carhartts that you just can’t do with other jackets, so here are all the neato things I can do in a Carharrts Jacket; that I couldn't do before.  

Jacket on the car seat, the one time my husband fell and was covered in mud.

Fix a tractor tire

Catch a pig            

Wrap up a shivering Andy dog, when we get caught outside in the rain.

Fight a bear


Birth a calf           


 Fight another bear                                                         

Hide kittens from the S.S.                                        

Smoke an entire pack of Tom Waits
                

So thanks honey, for buying me a jacket to keep me warm, and do a multitude of other things in.




Thursday, May 23, 2013

Save us Cesar Milan!



               I needed a few days to cool down before writing this post. 


 My husband and I received an email from our landlord saying that others in our building have complained about Periwinkle’s barking. The mail boxes are right outside our door and when they go to retrieve their mail, she gets right up against the door and barks at them. He recommended we stash the dogs in the bedroom when we go out. Because it is the room furthest from the door.  Hmmm lock my dogs in a small bedroom while we are out…hmmm…no.

  Nicholas became immediately concerned for the worst, for if we cannot control Periwinkle, we could get evicted based solely on her barking. We are not dog experts, but we did try a few things out. We have the sonic egg, it emits a sound dogs hate every time they bark, but Perry seems to be immune. We also tried a vibrating collar, so when she barks, its vibrates and distracts her. Perry practically overloaded the thing, it had no effect. The thunder shirt in my opinion was money down the drain. Doggie day care’s are crazy pricey and we just don’t have that kind of cash.

I went to a Doctor’s appointment, and thought my short absence might be a good time to try out the “Lock your dogs in a room” bit. Upon my return, I found Periwinkle had left me a note expressing her disapproval, a note she wrote in feces, under our bed. I have been hired on, at an office where I will be getting a regular 40 hour work week. So I won’t be home 24/7 to watch the dogs any more. This inconveniently coinciding with our neighbor’s complaint and our fear of eviction. I am one stressed out lady.

My husband had one suggestion...
      but I did not concur with him so we decided my way was best.  
 Perry is mental, she likes no one but me and Andy. She’s too stupid to learn any tricks, she snores louder than my husband. She wakes me up in the middle of the night for attention.  She hogs the couch, she won’t stop licking me, she’s a spoiled brat. But I hadn’t realized until the thought of losing her occurred, how much I am totally in love with the little terror. She’s my little puppy of barking horrors, and I am going to keep her.
Help me Cesar Milan!
 So my husband is graciously giving up a space in his man cave, to put in a dog pen with a square of grass for them to potty on. We are going to get a little radio for them to listen to so they won’t feel too lonely. It’s big enough for their beds and a dish for water. It’s not the furthest room from the front door, but any barking will be sufficiently obscured. Hopefully this will appease the neighbor’s. I am willing to do most anything it takes to alleviate  them of the occasional barking of a small shih-tzu, while they're getting their mail. I have heard it is healthy to write letters and never send them, about things that make you angry. So here is a letter to my neighbors, that I will never send.


Dear Neighbors,


I regret deeply that you have been inconvenienced by my dog Periwinkle’s barking, when you retrieve your mail. Or chat loudly in the echoing hallway outside our door with fellow neighbors. Sure the noise of your cackling resounding throughout our home has always irritated us, but hey, we do live in an apartment building. And we realize that when you live in close quarters with lots of other people, expect to hear noise now and again.

 Like our neighbors above us, who overload their washer daily, and I get to enjoy having my ceiling shake, as the machine booms and rattles. Or noise that only leaves me to conclude that they have 2 hyperactive babies that were unfortunately born with roller skates fused to their feet and bowling balls for hands, how else could you explain the cacophony of bombastic sounds pounding in your apartment every night?   
         But hey, that’s life, I wish them and their mutant children all the best.


  Or our neighbors who share the hallway with us, I don’t know how many of you live in there. But I’m sure your band is going to make it. You obviously smoke, because when you walk into the hallway. It is flooded with the overwhelming stink of a thousand cigarettes. Also, you’re friends find it necessary to park their behemoth SUV in front of the building at an angle taking up both parking spaces. But hey, I’m an artist too, and I understand, we’re rebels man, we can’t drive 55.  I just have one teensy request, please stop coming up to our front door and talking to our dogs, through the door. It’s weird, and only drives Periwinkle even more to barking. Yes, you were terribly surprised when you told my husband that your chit chatting to the door did nothing to sooth our fearful dog. That’s because you’re crazy, stop pestering our animals, and learn to take care of your own. Leaving your cat outside for days at a time while you’re on the road is terrible. You put the burden on the rest of us to look after her, and it’s not cool. Also, learn how to microwave popcorn without burning it, or find a new favorite snack.


 This is probably the least annoying place, we have lived really. We like the building and the neighbors we have met. We like the area, and it’s a place we plan on living in for a while. If I wanted to live in a place where I was never inconvenienced by other people’s lives, I would penny pinch and buy a house. To me it’s no big deal, that’s life, whatever.

 But hear me now, crazy lady. If you ever try to talk to my dogs again, so help me gawd. I will enter your apartment in the dead of night, scale what must be an unimaginable wall of Pabst blue ribbon cans. I will stand over you in the darkness where you sleep...and I will wash your stinky hair. Seriously, just because you’re in a band doesn’t mean you have to smell. I’m not kidding, one more dog talking session and I will febreeze your entire apartment!

Sincerely,
  The husband, yeah it was him not the wife. heh heh

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Off the top of my head

When it comes to acts of violence, or terrorism I take a very Rhet Butler look on things.
    Any fool can destroy things, its not such a neat trick. While it makes people sad and even afraid, rest assured we are all of us thoroughly unimpressed. So for anyone who is hankering to halt the progress of humanity by blowing things up. I can think of 20 random things, off the top of my head that would be a far better use of your time...and I really mean it.    

 So here it the the list of things that is a better use of your time than blowing people up!

  1. Trying to become the world’s fattest woman
                                      Go Susanne, Go!

 2.Losing a bet and having to get breast implants
                      Yeah but his personality is for crap

3. Shellacking moose turds for use in jewelry
                                 This is a real thing

4. Becoming a karaoke super star
              She drives meh crazy! Oh! Oh! Oh! And no one care-airs!

 5. Writing doom fan fiction
                                F@#king genius!

 6. Being the Alpha Brony
                             "Want to see my basement?"

 7. Performing sexual favors to the elderly and disabled
                            Aww C'mon, throw 'em a bone!


8. Filling a jar with toenail clippings
                   What have YOU done with YOUR life, huh?

 9.Shaving the image of David Bowie as the Goblin king from the movie Labyrinth into your back hair.
                         I don't have a picture of that. But seriously could you imagine?

10. Trying to sell beads on Etsy
                          It'll probably work out

 11. Get your feelings hurt by a cat
                                             Ouch


12. Make things out of cat hair
                      Everyone has a co-worker who owns this book.


13. Read all these books
              You mean he has a mullet? And his name is McMullet too?!

 14. Mine for belly button lint
                            "Want to see my basement?"

 15. Writing this guys biography
                                    Haters gunna hate

 16. Have a fight over a Kirk Vs. Picard dispute
                                                        Sthaaawp it!

17. WHARRGARBL!
                                                                WHARRGARBL!

18. Get caught playing with your dolls
                                                    Did you see anything?!

 19.Take on something big
                             Somebody give that kid a dollar.      

20. Get help for your cookie addiction
                                        Diabetes can give you mood swings. 

                     So there you have it, that was just off the top of my head.