Category Archives: Germany

Five tons = 2.5 elephants worth. SO MANY CHOCOLATEY ELEPHANTS!

Today we are going to talk about a weird but kind of awesome thing that happened in the world. As we do ’round there here parts from time to time, yo. I think we also might do this Wednesday, because I found ANOTHER awesome thing. But tonight I want to go to bed early so I can finish reading my book because I’m pretty sure the thief is about to forgive the queen and there will be much kissing. MUCH KISSING. Shush, sometimes I like books with much kissing.

Sometimes I also like young adult literature and fantasy books. I am not always highbrow. Sorry to burst the bubble!

Sometimes I also like young adult literature and fantasy books. I am not always highbrow. Sorry to burst the bubble!

But FIRST, sometimes I like to change things in blogland. So from now on, if you comment, and if you have EVER commented here, your comment will IMMEDIATELY SHOW UP ON THE BLOG. Like, IMMEDIATELY. However! Don’t use this as an excuse to crack wise, buckaroos. I still have the option to delete or edit your comments, should I decide to do that. I still get an email every time you comment, and can hop on my phone and make your comment poof. OK, I take that back. Please feel free to crack wise. I like you to crack wise. Wise folks are my favorites. However, please don’t do things like use racial slurs or gaybash or talk about things that make me have the vapors. I trust my regular commenters won’t do this. And if you’re new, hello! Please comment! I am glad you are here!

It’s a thing I’m trying. It will make comments show up faster when I’m not able to approve them in a timely fashion. Let’s see how it goes. I can always change it back if I want to.


Listen, the world is a wild and weird place, buckaroos. How will you know how weird without someone telling you about it? You’re WELCOME. In ADVANCE.

Over the weekend, someone stole some Nutella in Germany.

I know this doesn’t sound all that weird and/or shocking. Here, I’ll make it better by throwing some FACTS down on you.

Over the weekend, someone stole FIVE TONS of Nutella from a town named BAD HERSFELD in Germany.

So! Much! Nutella!

So! Much! Nutella!

So much better, right?

FIVE TONS OF NUTELLA! That is so much Nutella. SO MUCH. One article I read said it only translated to about $21,000 worth of Nutella, though, so probably it wasn’t for the resale value.

Of COURSE it wasn’t. It was so they’d have a LIFETIME SUPPLY OF NUTELLA! I mean, duh. You don’t even have to think very hard about that one. All the Nutella! Every last bit of it!

Also, can we just talk about Bad Hersfeld for a minute? Could there BE a better town-name? I have MOST THOROUGHLY researched it and although it sounds like it’s most badass and kind of where all the bikers would live, really it designates that there is, or was, a health spa of some sort in the town, as apparently “bad” means “bath” in German. Why did a town with a health spa need so much Nutella? This is a mystery that even Scooby Doo couldn’t solve, methinks. Maybe all those people who are eating spinach salads were having a craving for hazelnut spread? Like, from being deprived of it and all?

Ooh, Bad Hersfeld gets its own STAMP. That's fancy, yo.

Ooh, Bad Hersfeld gets its own STAMP. That’s fancy, yo.

AND, look what the article ALSO says:

“Germans news agency dpa reported that thieves have previously stolen a load of energy drinks from the same location.”

I think if there's this much thievery in one place, maybe don't leave big loads of foodstuffs there? Just a thought.

I think if there’s this much thievery in one place, maybe don’t leave big loads of foodstuffs there? Just a thought.

No, I don’t know why “dpa” is all lowercase like that, I didn’t write the article, sheesh. ANYWAY. So these people now have a lifetime supply of Red Bull AND a lifetime supply of Nutella? OMG, they are going to be SPEEDY. I think you need all that Nutella to wash the taste of Red Bull out of your mouth. Red Bull tastes like caffeinated death, seriously. Blech. Once, many years ago, my friend Matt who I have lost touch with (Matt! I miss your face!) and who I used to work at the Humane Society with had all the Red Bull and I was all, “Matt, dude, let me taste that.” And he was all, “You will hate it.” And I said, “EVERYONE loves Red Bull.” And he said “You will HATE it. It’s only if you need energy. You don’t need energy, you’re made of energy, you have trouble powering down.” And I said, “MATT GIVE ME THAT RED BULL RIGHT NOW I PROMISE I WILL NOT BACKWASH.” So Matt totally gave me his Red Bull because we were work besties and I would have trusted him with my whole life, seriously, and I had a little sip and I was all “MATT THAT IS THE WORST” and made a face and he laughed and laughed and said “I TOLD YOU SO!” and then would ask me to make the Red Bull face whenever he needed a good laugh and I would scowl at him and say “No, MATT” and he would laugh MORE. Matt was most sincerely awesome, I hope that someday life brings me across his path again. I would like to give him a hug and thank him for being one of the most protective, funny, brave, and strong men I’ve ever known. I don’t know if younger-me realized how important it was to tell people such things when you weren’t sure if you would see them again. Older-me has learned that such things are important and tries to say them often, in case she is hit by lightning and dies all of a sudden and can’t say them ever again. You don’t know when the lightning will come. YOU DON’T.

Watch out for the lightning, jellybeans, it comes out of nowhere, you know.

Watch out for the lightning, jellybeans, it comes out of nowhere, you know.

So now in Bad Hersfeld, there is a thief with ALL the Red Bull (or whatever the German equivalent of Red Bull is, probably Rot Stier. I don’t even want to drink Red Bull, I sure as hell don’t want to drink Rot Stier) and ALL the Nutella. That is a thief to be reckoned with, yo. You look out for that thief. I would assume it would be easy to identify him or her. They’d be all jumpy and also sticky-fingered. I feel like they’d leap out from alleys screaming “ROT STIER!” But don’t even try to catch him or her. They’re going to be speedy. They’ll be gone in a FLASH.

Tonight I am off reviewing a show so I’m thinking you will not see much of me tomorrow. I’ll be back soon. More weird news to discuss, I think. Now my book is calling to me. I can totally hear it. What, that is COMPLETELY normal. Your books don’t talk to you? Well, what a sad, lonely life you must lead, seriously!

Happy Tuesday, internet. Comment it up, they’ll pop up fast, fast like MAGIC. Just you wait and see!

(Psst, also, happy birthday, Amy’s brother, I hope you have a great day of magicalness! Even though you will not read the blog because this is where all the “rapists and people with one hand” hang out! Yeah, I don’t know either. HAPPY BIRTHDAY LITTLE BROTHER!)

Sue the bowling alley? Ja, das ist gut; they might pay me in chicken fingers.

I have many, many things to talk about. I’ve been hoarding links like a MISER. Now it’s just a matter of what to talk about today?

I think we need to discuss a VERY IMPORTANT NEWS ITEM.

There is a town in upstate New York called Chateaugay. (That means “gay house” in French. Or maybe “happy house,” I suppose.) In some places in town they use the French spelling and it’s Chateauguay. But as we’re MERKANS, we MERKANIZED it to Chateaugay.

I drive through Chateaugay to get to my parents’ house. It is a very small town but it’s kind of charming. Also, I have history there. It is where Amy’s Dad spent some of his childhood and where Amy’s Grandmother grew up.

Also, it has things like this:

Giant windmills for wind power!

Giant windmills for wind power!

A fading-out sign for a place that sold both hay AND furs!

A fading-out sign for a place that sold both hay AND furs! (Possibly both euphemisms)

A lovely waterfall called High Falls!

A lovely waterfall called High Falls!

...and a Sunoco station! Sorry, I was running out of things to talk about, here.

…and a Sunoco station! Sorry, I was running out of things to talk about, here.

So a few weeks ago, Mom told me the following story about Chateaugay on the phone.

Mom: We had quite a news story up here the other day.
Me: Did someone dress like a bear and attempt to kill their wife again?
Mom: Oh, no, that was just that one time.
Me: Good, I’d hate that to be a repeat occurrence.
Mom: No, this time, someone went to the bowling alley in Chateaugay and got drunk.

Me: Please tell me that isn’t the whole story, as I would imagine that happens on a daily basis.
Mom: No, there’s more. So on her way out, she fell on some stairs, and hit her head and passed out.
Me: Teach her to get drunk at the bowling alley. I mean, not that that isn’t totally classy or anything.
Mom: When she woke up, she had a German accent.
Me: Whoa. Wait. WHAT?
Mom: Yes. This is a thing that happens, sometimes.
Me: I don’t know that it is. How is that a thing that happens sometimes?
Mom: So she sued the bowling alley and just won a bunch of money.
Me: She SUED the BOWLING ALLEY for giving her a GERMAN ACCENT.

Did she wake up wearing a dirndl, too? Probably.

Did she wake up wearing a dirndl, too? Probably.

Mom: Well, for either serving her too much to drink or for the stairs, but, yes. And she won!
Me: People sue for everything these days. I have to investigate this German accent thing. It sounds suspect to me.
Mom: I don’t know, the paper said it was real.
Me: Mom. MOM. That paper also misspells ITS OWN NAME. On the MASTHEAD. It is not a trustworthy news source.
Mom: I think you might be exaggerating.
Me: What? ME? Surely you jest, woman, that doesn’t sound like something I would do.
Mom: No. Not YOU. Not my daughter of melodrama.

So then I promptly forgot about this because I forget everything and then Dad mentioned it a few days later.

Dad: Did you hear about this nonsense that happened in Chateaugay? Someone is GERMAN now.
Me: Ooh, I forgot to research that. Yeah, Mom mentioned that.
Dad: First, it’s your own damn fault if you are drunk as a skunk at the bowling alley.
Me: I’m in agreement. At least have the decency to do that at the Elks Club like a NORMAL person, sheesh.



Dad: SECOND, if you get SO DRUNK at the BOWLING ALLEY and then you FALL, you don’t SUE someone.
Me: People do that all the time. Remember I told you about that woman I talked to at work who wanted to sue the mall for putting cracks in the sidewalk that she tripped on and when I asked her if the sidewalk was broken she said, “you know, like how every few steps, there’s a crack?” and I said, “like where the sidewalk pavers come together?” and she was all, “yes, that’s irresponsible, people could be killed” so apparently she wants all sidewalks to be one unbroken expanse of concrete and I can’t even imagine how that would happen or what kind of machine would do that?
Dad: That was a very long story.
Me: Yes. Surely you weren’t expecting less from me?
Dad: No. Third, now that woman is GERMAN. Probably she’s a communist.

Me: Dad. We’ve had this conversation and not all Europeans are communists.
Dad: MOST are. They’re just pretending they’re not because that’s how they get you.
Me: I don’t know how she’s German now. Like, if this happened to me, I couldn’t be German now. I don’t even know what a German accent sounds like. I know what a British accent or a Canadian accent sound like, but I don’t think you could start talking in an accent that’s not something you’ve HEARD. That’s like your brain accessing memories you don’t have and it’s WEIRD.
Dad: I don’t know, but now she’s rich and also German so nothing good can come of that.
Me: DAD. She isn’t really GERMAN. She’s AMERICAN. Just with a random German ACCENT somehow.
Dad: It’s the communists. I’m telling you.
Me: Yes. Yes, you are. Telling me. You sure are.

So right after this, I had to investigate this situation. Of course I did. First, there was nothing news-wise about it. Of course there wasn’t. I don’t know if Chateaugay has a newspaper, and the Malone newspaper isn’t online (or, it IS, but you have to pay for it, and I’m not paying for misspellings and stories about murdered llamas. That is sadly not a joke.)

But I DID find a Wikipedia article and the German accent thing is TRUE!

It is called Foreign Accent Syndrome and it is REALLY REAL!

OMG this made me laugh so hard. "Apparently is a real thing!" Hee!

OMG this made me laugh so hard. “Apparently a real thing!” Hee!

Here’s the skinny in case you don’t want to click through to the link because you might lose your place and not see what else is going on here today, like you might not know that TODAY, I learned that some dinosaurs had TWO BRAINS. Two BRAINS, you guys! One in their HEADAREA and one in their TAILAREA! Because they were so big they needed a brain to control their TAILS! (Andreas totally verified this fact, so that’s how I know it’s TRUE FACTS!)

So apparently, sometimes people hit their heads and damage the part of their brains responsible for linguistic function. This affects the way they speak, so it SOUNDS like they have a foreign accent, but really they don’t.

Some people start dropping their “r”s, so they sound like they’re from Boston, for example. Some people sound German, or British, or Russian (COMMUNISTS!) Apparently one woman who was from Norway started talking like she was German and then NO ONE TRUSTED HER AGAIN. (BECAUSE COMMUNISTS!)

Now, listen, as foolish as I find suing a place for something that is CLEARLY your fault (if I sued every place I made a poor decision when I was drinking too much back in the day, I think I would be a BILLIONAIRE) I think she’s overlooking a very important factor here.


I mean, come ON! She’s from this little teeny tiny town in upstate New York where the most exciting thing that happens is when a Burger King opens. (No, sadly, I’m not kidding. A Burger King opened a couple of years ago and there were traffic jams for MONTHS. Dad was all, “You can’t even get CLOSE to that Burger King! I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A WHOPPER! Sigh, fine, I’m going to get a Big Mac, no one’s over THERE.”)

So now she’s from this small town where everything’s always the SAME and nothing ever HAPPENS except sometimes people get attacked by their exes dressed like bears (true story) and sometimes people murder llamas (true story) and sometimes buildings fall down into the street and block traffic for days (true story.) What’s going to make her stand out? What’s going to make people say, “OMG, we’ve GOT to invite Susie Chateaugay to our party, she’s the COOLEST?”


The internet is really being the best about graphics for this syndrome, seriously.

The internet is really being the best about graphics for this syndrome, seriously.

She’ll show up and say all of her “w”s like “v”s and her “th”s like “z”s or “s”s and then they would look at her and say “WHOA. This chick is INTERNATIONAL. And therefore she is INTERESTING. And perhaps she is WORLDLY and would let me get to THIRD BASE if I tell her how much I like Rammstein.” And there you have it! She will be POPULAR! And FAMOUS! And the whole town will LOVE her!

You can’t really put a price on that, can you? I think not.

Also, don’t get drunk at the bowling alley; those shoes are SLIPPERY, yo. I totally almost slip when I HAVEN’T been drinking. Speaking of which, I haven’t been bowling in way too long. Who wants to take me bowling? I’ll even fake a foreign accent for you if it helps. I’m thinking Australian? Or maybe Italian, I’m totally flexible.

Happy Monday, people of the interwebs! Remember: if you get injured, SOMEONE IS TO BLAME. And? IT IS NEVER YOU. Be sure to pick someone to blame with the deepest pockets, is all.

A land! That is newly found! Where there are MOOSE!

I am so out of time today. I had THINGS to do today! Important THINGS! Also I slept in. Because I stayed up too late. SO LATE. Time’s fleeting, you know? And there are SO MANY THINGS TO DO. Blergh.

What’s today. Sunday? Mom and Dad are here right now! We are eating seafood and buying a television and new clothes and then they will be leaving and then I will have A DAY AND A HALF LEFT and what will I do with that time?

I’m gonna have me some crab legs, yo. YUM.

WHO KNOWS! Probably playing around online. That’s a good use of my time. And at 2am tomorrow morning I WILL BE A YEAR OLDER!!! Very very exciting! Birthday birthday birthday! Yes, 2am. I was born at a very good time. I told you this, right? Weeks early and in the middle of the night and also THE WRONG SEX because I was supposed to be a BOY and Dad was all “I don’t think this is right, are you sure, nurse lady?” but I think he’s finally come to terms with it. It’s only taken him like all the decades but I think he’s ok with my ladyness. Plus he had a boy a few years later so it all worked out alright for him.

SPEAKING of Dad, he has good news! Strange yet good news!

Dad: Guess where I’m going.
Me: No idea. The mall? Albany? Church? The woods? The bathroom?
Dad: Stop just guessing things.
Me: Fine. Where are you going?
Dad: New Found Land.
Me: What? Newfoundland?


Dad:No. New Found Land.
Me: You just found some land? I think everything’s been found. It’s not colonial times.
Dad: I’m going to New Found Land to hunt moose.
Me: Newfoundland? Really?
Dad: Yes. New Found Land! Did you know to get to New Found Land, you have to take a ferry for FOUR HOURS?

This looks like a horror movie where the killers wait for you, right?

Me: Huh. No, I did not know that. That’s very bon vivanty of you, right?
Dad: Vonting! I’m going vonting. I bet the assassin’s never been to New Found Land to hunt all the moose. I AM THE BEST AT VONTING.
Me: No, I am fairly sure he hasn’t. I’d be willing to bet money on it, actually. You’re just going to Newfoundland to hunt moose? All randomlike?

This can’t be a real sign, right? This makes me giggle. You go, moose.

Dad: No. Friend B. talked me into it because he said I might be dead next year.
Me: Well. That’s a good friend. Very cheerful.
Dad: He said, “You might be dead next year. So we should go kill those moose now.”
Me: I wish I had friends like that, because boy, that’d be fun. I’m going to tell my friends they suck.
Dad: Also, friend R. is going.
Me: Well, that will be fun! Like an adventure. A moosey adventure. Will you take photos? I want to see things.
Dad: I already told B. I would have to take pictures of the dead moose.
Me: I don’t mean photos of DEAD things. I mean photos of Newfoundland.
Dad: I GUESS. But that sounds boring.
Me: Yes, because photos of dead moose would be SO EXCITING.

This moose looks sad you’re going to kill him, Dad. DAD DON’T KILL THE PRETTY MOOSE.

So! Dad is going to New Found Land. So if you’re wondering where I got my pronunciation of Fin-LAYND, I think it’s pretty obvious. Also, ALL THE MOOSE SLAUGHTER! (Don’t worry. I don’t think any moose will be slaughtered. A lot of times, people go on these things and don’t kill anything. I think it’s mostly an excuse to hang with the fellas and drink beer. And I guess go to New Found Land.) And if there are photos, you can bet I will be sharing them! NEW FOUND LAND! This is all happening at the end of the month so BE PREPARED!

Let’s see, what else. I’m kind of out of news and have only a couple hours before I have to get to work and today (well, in MY world, in YOUR world it’s Sunday) is Friday and Fridays are so much worse than any day of the week and I get SO STRESSED OUT. Yesterday I went into work SO SO HAPPY and then only a few hours later I had my head on my desk because things were…um…bad. Bad bad. I don’t want to talk about that right now. Some things are not blog-worthy. Also, I don’t want to lose this job, too, let’s be honest. Anyway, today will be worse. I’m quite sure. Dear people of the Capital District: please stop calling the answering service en masse on Fridays, it makes me want to pull all my hair out. Thank you.

Last night there was so much fog out it was like I was driving home in a horror movie. Very exciting and also scary. It reminded me of that terrible movie The Fog that came out a few years ago and there was a trailer for it on television that they played over and over and OVER and it had some sort of weird dubbing issue and the girl who played Shannon on Lost would say, “There’s something in…the fog” but you could tell that “there’s something in” and “the fog” were from two different parts of the movie because the background noise was different and her voice sounded different so for WEEKS I went around saying “there’s something in…the kitchen” or “there’s something in…the hallway” or whatever and I’m lucky I lived with such a patient roommate because probably I was driving her insane but it gave me such the giggles. SUCH THE GIGGLES. And it still does. Then a while later I watched the movie and that line wasn’t even IN the movie. Well, I think it was but it didn’t sound like that. It sounded BORING and NORMAL.

There’s something in…the fog. I just don’t remember what it was. Sailor ghosts? Was it sailor ghosts?

Oh, ok, one more thing and then I HAVE TO EAT LUNCH because I’m GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK. Our bon vivantiest Ken is in HAMBURG this week!

Ooh, this photo makes Hamburg look HAUNTED. And EXCITING.

Ken has blogged about Hamburg and I think you all need to check it out because his photos are gorgeous and much better than that weird haunted thing I put up there. Also last night he was going to take me to the FischMarkt but I had to go to sleep. A whole MARKT of FISCH, are you so excited? I was, until I had to go to sleep. I miss all the good things with the sleeping. He promised to blog about the Markt of Fisch so I will wait patiently. HA HA like I have ever been patient about anything EVER.

Here are things I learned about Hamburg from the interwebs:

  • it is the second-biggest city in ALL OF GERMANY. I’m going to assume Berlin’s the biggest, right? I can’t just say that here, that’s irresponsible. I have to research it. YES IT IS. Aren’t you proud I did research? (Also, Ken’s Munich is third! I had no idea.)
  • Hamburg’s OFFICIAL name is “the free and Hanseatic city of Hamburg.” This tickles me to no end. It sounds SO FANCY. I want to go to a city with an official moniker.
  • Hamburg has water. I approve of any city that has water. NO, I don’t mean they have DRINKING water, I mean they have a RIVER. It is on the river Elbe. ELBE! I like how that sounds, it’s very fancy. Also there is a lake called Lake Alster. When you Google Lake Alster you get this photo and I don’t know what this is but I find it totally the most whimsical (and maybe a wee bit frightening because I don’t like statues) and want to go to there.
  • The internet tells me the people who live there are called Hamburgers but I can’t imagine that’s true. It sounds like a trick.
  • Hamburg has Europe’s largest red light district. When I went to Amsterdam I went to the red light district and a man tried to get me to watch a lady having sex with a gorilla and he was SO CHEERFUL about that I laughed until I cried.
  • There is a thing there you can eat called a Franzbrötchen which is like a croissant with cinnamon and sugar. Sometimes raisins but that’s a bad idea I’m telling you because raisins are terrible anytime. Ken Ken KEN. You need to eat one of these things and tell me how delicious. No raisins. though, Ken. Don’t let me down about the raisins.

    Um. These don’t seem to have raisins. These look DELICIOUS.

  • Wikipedia says THERE ARE ALWAYS MUSICALS RUNNING IN THE CITY. Always! ALWAYS. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a city that ALWAYS has a musical running in it. Also, there’s a English-language theater, and the Beatles recorded there once. This is a very artsy city. This theater geek approves.

In summation: I’m pretty keen on Hamburg. APPROVED! What did I do before I had bon vivanty friends? I can’t even imagine.

OK. I am officially going to be late for work. HAPPY DAY BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY!!!!

Dumbcat has made a FRIEND. A very long-distance friend. He is very pleased with himself.

Howdy, folks. What day is this in blogland? In me-land it’s a different day. I’m like a timelord, right? NO NO NO don’t start talking to me about Dr. Who, I don’t watch it. Someday. When I have all the time in the world. Promise. I hear good things. You don’t need to convince me it’s awesome. So, in YOU-land, it’s…let’s see…Saturday. Shush, I didn’t get much sleep last night. I TRIED to get all the sleep, but the minute I got into bed, my brain kicked into overdrive. As it does, sometimes. Which led to many hours of tossing and turning. No fun! None at all. When I got up this morning (MUCH TOO EARLY) my blankets were all at the bottom of my bed in a snarl. I had to unknot them to make the bed. What HAPPENED last night? It’s like I ran a MARATHON.

Also, side note, I think I sleep wrong. Parts of me have to be warm and parts cold. Is this normal? My arms and head and hands and legs and feet need to be OUT of the blankets but my middle-body-area needs to be covered at ALL TIMES or I can’t sleep. If my feet are under the covers I feel like I’m smothering. Apparently I breathe out of my feet.


Anyway, still working a billion billion hours at my part-time job, still waiting on calls from the places I’ve interviewed and hoping for more calls from places that are seeing my resume and thinking, THIS IS AN AWESOME HUMAN! and that’s that. Same old, same old.

Let’s see. There are happier things happening in the world! Things that are not cuckoo-bananas work hours and people yelling at me all day long because their doctors’ offices aren’t calling them back. Let’s see. What’s happier things? Hmm.

Well, our first show of the season is opening this weekend at the theater. So if you’re a local person and you like Shakespeare and awesome things, hitch on over to Albany Civic and watch Twelfth Night. It’s pretty and it’s fun and it’s intelligent and it’s only a little over two hours! I will be there next weekend, helping out in the box office for a bit – I’m not working much on this one, due to working hours that make me need to sleep at weird times, but I’ll be around briefly, box-officing. It’s a fun night out, and it’s only $15! A total steal. Where else can you get all culturefied for $15? Nowhere, is where. Go go go!

Look! How much fun is this? Go, go! (photo courtesy of Tom Killips)

In news of awesomeness, lookie, Jim became a very famous famous person the other day. He posted this on Target’s wall and LOOK AT ALL THE LIKES AND COMMENTS, YO. Since I’m writing this days in advance I’m not going to give you a number because the numbers keep getting BIGGER. Like, a couple hours ago, it was 128,000 and now it’s 138,000. HOLY HELL JIM! This is mega-impressive! There are nice comments and there are scary comments from troll-people and there are people who think Jim is not real which kind of makes me laugh. I don’t think Target is employing people to write random nice things on its wall. Well, maybe, shit, I don’t know, but this is a very SPECIFIC random nice thing, and also, Jim is real. Well, he’s as real as any of my internet people, which is to say, he’s really to me, which is all that matters. I got mail from him once. If he’s false, he’s really an elaborate scam. GOOD JOB JIM FALSIFIERS. He cannot be false! He is my MINISTER OF FLY-NANCE!

(In case you think Jim is false, he wrote a very nice post clarifying his Target post here, so you can read it. Isn’t Jim the best? Yes, he most sincerely is.)

Also, I love Target. It is my favorite. Our Target recently became a SUPAH-TARGET and has GROCERIES. You really could live in the Target now. I am tempted to do so. It’s so HAPPY in there. And it’s so CLEAN. KMart’s fine and I hate Walmart with the fire of a thousand suns because one time they were rude to me when I was Christmas shopping  (I know, you’d think I’d have a better reason for hating them, right? Nah, I’m self-serving) but oooh, dogies, do I love me some Target. SO MANY PRETTY THINGS.

Also, Target has these Archer Farms things. I can’t find a photo of the best ones, which are half brownie, half madeleines. SO AMAZING.

Let’s see. Ooh, in OTHER news of my most lovely imaginary internet friends (they are, they are, they most certainly are) our most impressive Ken (he of the bon vivantery, of course) was on the RADIO the other day. I know! You know how he’s all fancy-fancy general editor of The Munich Eye, yeah? Well, if you don’t, you should, because his paper is DOPE. No, no, not the kind of dope that makes you loopy. THE GOOD KIND. Anyway, because he is a fancy-fancy editor type, a real London radio station INTERVIEWED HIM! Which I totally got to listen to! On the computer! And Ken did such a good job and I was so so proud of him! Even though the stupid radio station froze every thirty seconds or so and I had to keep hitting the stop/start button and I TOTALLY cussed up a storm. “WHY DON’T YOU EFFING FREEZE AGAIN WHILE MY FRIEND IS TALKING?” I said to the computer. The computer remained unmoved.

(I was telling Dad about this radio-situation, and he was all “wait wait WAIT you can’t LISTEN to GERMAN RADIO, your TRANSMITTER is not that strong, you can’t fool me, I know about radio” and I had to explain the internet. And also that Ken wasn’t even on German radio, but BRITISH radio. Then Dad was very quiet. Because Dad does not like England. Don’t make me explain, it’s this whole thing. It may well go back to the Revolutionary War. That’s what I assume, anyway. There’s other stuff but I can’t really talk about that, he’d get all cranky I’m talking about his personal business on the killer interwebs. So anyway, he wanted me to tell him all about Ken on the radio, because as much as he’s all “THAT GUY IS AN ASSASSIN” I think he secretly thinks Ken’s kind of awesome. Why wouldn’t you? I mean sincerely. Who doesn’t like a good bon vivant story? So I was telling him the story and I got to the radio-was-freezing part and he was all, “that’s because it was BRITISH RADIO” and then he was all, “how long did the assassin talk?” and I was like, “I don’t know, five minutes? Maybe?” and he was like, “THOSE BRITS! They only wouldn’t let him talk longer because THEY ARE BRITS.” Then I kind of got the giggles because of the England-hatred that was going on randomly for no reason, and also that Dad was secretly all “HOW DARE YOU SIR!” about Ken even though he thinks Ken is an assassin who’s going to kill me eventually and then Dad was all “huff huff huff why are you LAUGHING at your poor FATHER like I am a BUFFOON full of BUFFOONERY.”)

DAD’S ENEMY! I feel terrible about that. I like all of Great Britain a lot. And hope to visit again someday. SO THERE DAD.

I’m not sure if this will work or not, but there’s a slight chance you can listen retroactively to Ken being awesome. If you click here, and click “listen live”, it gives you an option to “launch timeshift.” The show Ken was on was called The Monocle Daily, 8/30, #219. So I think, if you click on that show, you can listen to Ken. The only thing you can’t do is fast-forward. He happened about half an hour into the program, so tidy up or something for half an hour and keep an ear out for the segment about the bomb in Munich. And try not to worry too much that there are bombs in Munich and that you know someone there. Apparently it’s just a thing. I said something to my dad and he was all, “You worry about things like bombs. In Europe, bombs happen.” I don’t know that that makes me feel any BETTER, Dad.

In news of the whimsical and/or confusing, Dumbcat is TOTALLY ENAMORED with Ken’s voice. This discovery came about the time Ken posted the video of himself telling us about fast food. You saw that, right? It still makes me laugh like a moron.

So I played that on my phone, and I was sitting on the couch, and Dumbcat LEAPT on the couch, like from across the ROOM, and MEOWED at the phone. He has NEVER done that before. So I looked at him oddly and he just kept looking at the phone like he was waiting for Ken to tell him something else, so I played it again, and he did a little happy cat-dance which means he shifts all around on his big cat-feet and he meowed AGAIN at the phone. Ken might be of the goats, but he is also apparently of the cats. The Dumbcats, at least.

This even looks a little like Dumbcat. My phone is a lot cooler than this, though. Dumbcat sneers at this phone.

So today we had Ken on the radio, and I was curious what would happen. The answer is, Dumbcat wandered over like he was playin’ it cool, and then put his front paws up on my leg and sunk his claws in all deep (OUCH) and craned his neck up to the screen and said, “meeeeooooouuuioooouuuuu?” at it. So I think he was asking Ken a question about the bomb in Munich, which is what Ken was on the radio to talk about, because as Ken told us on Twitter?

Of course he is. He is TOTALLY the Man in Munich. I never had a doubt.

I think Dumbcat thought it was a radio call-in show, and was sad Ken didn’t answer his questions. Ken, Dumbcat has some bomb-related questions he needs answered, please. I’m quite curious if Ken were ever to bon vivant my way, if Dumbcat would hide in the pots and pans cupboard, like he does when anyone else visits, or he would actually allow his internet friend to see him. KEN. Come and bon vivant here. This is a question we need to answer. FOR SCIENCE.

Look at my fancypants friends. Aren’t they the most awesome? I want them to be here so I can give them big old hugs. I told my dad that and he was all, “THEY ARE MARRIED” and I said, “Did someone tell you at one point that ‘hugs’ equals ‘sex’? I can hug married people without taking my clothes off. What kind of kid do you think you raised, anyway? Like, some sort of evil siren temptress? Sheesh, DAD, way to underestimate my self-control. Or theirs, I guess.” Then he was all “DON’T SAY SEX TO YOUR FATHER EW.” And I was all, “You started it, turning ‘hugging my friends’ into ‘naughty-naughty time’ when that wasn’t even IMPLIED, Dirtymind McGillicutty.” Then he changed the subject to the weather, which is what he does when he is uncomfortable with the subject matter. We talk about the weather a LOT.

OK. Off to bed, gumdrops, the sun just went down which means it’s time for me to hit the hay, too. That’s what happens when you get up at the crack of dawn. Love all your faces! Happiest of happy weekends to you all!

And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night…

I don’t have a massive amount of time to write this. A., I am EXHAUSTED, because it was a loooong day of work today. B., for some reason I have one of those headaches that makes you feel like you’re going to vomit all over your shoes whenever you stand or sit or look at things. But I’ve got to blog! Or what will happen? THE WORLD WILL END. Oh, wait, it wouldn’t? Well, I’d still feel majorly guilty. Just because I am working and headachey is NO EXCUSE NONE AT ALL.


I had an exciting phone call that might turn into something even MORE exciting in the next couple of months tonight, but until it’s for sure and settled that’s all I can say. Just that it’s very exciting, and I did a happy dance when I got off the phone, and it’s something I’ve always wanted but never thought was a possibility. No, it wasn’t someone calling to hire me for an awesome full-time job with benefits. Don’t get THAT excited. Someday soon, maybe. Keep those fingers crossed. Anyway, the top-secrety thing is VERY EXCITING and as soon as it’s a guarantee and not just a maybe (oh, how I want it to be a yes and not just a maybe!) I will tell you all about it. With many all-caps and ZOMGs. Promise. It’s a fun and good thing and perfect for me and I haven’t stopped smiling since I got the call tonight.

In news of the weather, Hurricane Isaac is a’comin’! All rockin’ and rollin’ up the east coast of the States. My weatherlady (she of the increasingly tighter and shorter dresses, which is just confusing…it’s like she thinks she’s a Fox News anchorlady) is just frothing at the mouth over the weather pattern down south. My favorite thing she said yesterday was that we were working with a “cone of uncertainty.” CONE OF UNCERTAINTY! It’s like the Cone of Shame pets have to wear home from the vet. Do not wander into the CONE OF UNCERTAINTY! Or you will be sure to meet UNENDING DOOM! (Yes, yes, I’ve been saying cone of uncertainty repeatedly for two days in a very film-preview-announcer voice. It’s been cracking me up incessantly. I am easily amused all alone in my house.)

CONE OF UNCERTAINTY! I’m uncertain just looking at this, aren’t you?

In more LOCAL hurricane news, my brother is getting on a plane for Florida tomorrow. Yes, I realize you’re all reading this TUESDAY. Sorry. I can’t write posts the day-of, I’m not a newspaperlady. Anyway, my brother, in his infinite wisdom, has a plane ticket for Florida for the day the storm’s supposed to come in. That seems ill-advised to me. My dad isn’t even sure the plane’s going to take off and everyone’s all in a tizzy in Amy’s-family-land. But apparently once you have plane tickets it’s not like you can exchange them for a better date without paying some sort of insane fee or something, so he’s stuck with the plane tickets of DEATH flying straight into the CONE OF UNCERTAINTY and this is all very worrisome. So send out belated good thoughts for my little brother who is defying death tomorrow. Bad news, little brother! You should stay home where we don’t have kooky hurricanes!

Also, it’s upsetting the Republicans, because they’re having their convention in Florida this week, and because of Isaac, they’ve had to change plans around, and the major networks have said they’re not going to show the convention (I’m not really sure why…maybe because it would be a shouty snoozefest?) and they are SO MAD. What does Amy’s dad think of all this? Well, if I asked him (I haven’t, do you think I WANT to get in an argument with him? We haven’t discussed politics in MONTHS) he’d say “That hurricane is a GOVERNMENT CONSPIRACY.” I think he’d probably say Gore sent it. He thinks Gore is in charge of the weather. Only when it’s bad, though. When it’s nice weather, he thinks Fox News sent it.

See? Look at this photo. It’s like he’s the MASTER of weather!

In news of GERMANY, and also ANIMALS, two things I like very much, thank you, we have another story of hijinks at a German zoo. I’m beginning to distrust German zoos, you guys. BFF has alerted me to the following story, in which we learn that Cologne, Germany, a tiger ESCAPED FROM ITS PEN and ATE A ZOOKEEPER. I’m exaggerating about the eating part, but the tiger totally killed the zookeeper. BFF wants to know what’s going on at the German zoos. I concur.

This is a terrifying photo. EAT YOUR FACE RIGHT OFF!

“The tiger slipped through a passage between the enclosure and an adjacent storage building, where it fatally attacked the 43-year-old keeper, said police spokesman Stefan Kirchner.” ZOMG SLIPPED. That tiger was wily and worrisome. Like a secretive snake of a tiger. All slipping in passages and waiting for zookeepers and then popping out like jack-in-the-boxes and then mauling and mauling.

Where is the tiger? You can’t SEE him. UNTIL HE EATS YOU.

Then another zookeeper killed the tiger, which is super-sad. I mean, I don’t like killer tigers. Who does? But I also don’t like dead tigers, because I find tigers beautiful and there aren’t enough of them in the world. I want to pet a tiger. I mean, not while it’s eating my face or anything. I’d like to become friends with a zoo veterinarian, and then one day, that zoo veterinarian would have to do some sort of procedure on a tiger. I’m thinking a teeth-cleaning.  (YES, I have VERY DETAILED IMAGINATIONS. What, you don’t? I blame it on the fact that I don’t dream at night. So I do my dreaming during the day.) So anyway, the zoo veterinarian would invite me over and he’d anesthetize the tiger for his procedure. Then, while that tiger is all sleepy, I can PET THAT TIGER. All the pettings! I could feel what the tiger’s fur feels like! I’m thinking rough but also shiny. I would also like to touch that tiger’s paws and claws. I think they would be awesome and powerful. Wouldn’t this be the best? Yes. Yes it would. Where is my zoo veterinarian friend, please?

Here is a tiger vet at the Oregon Zoo. SHE IS HUGGING HIM YO!

Anyway, I did research because I’m getting a little worried about all this zoo-news and Ken’s safety. First, Cologne is about 350 miles away from Ken, so I think the ghost of the murdered tiger will not eat Ken’s face. That’s nice to know, I don’t want ghost-tigers eating my friend’s faces. Then I checked on zoos IN Ken’s city. A BILLION! Ken, there are a billion zoos in your city. Give or take a billion. But there are at least 2 or 3. Why did you not mention this? Do you go to these zoos?

Look what Ken has! Tierpark Hellabrunn!

You have TIERPARKS and you have SEA LIFE PARKS and you have THIS PLACE which I am not 100% sure if it is a pet store or a zoo and also the website makes terrible animal noises when you click on it so don’t you click that at work, my little investigative reporters. You’ll get fired and I can’t have all of YOU being unemployed, too. If I have you all on my conscience, too, my conscience would collapse like a fine soufflé. It’s barely standing on its own as it is. KEN KEN KEN KEN. Why are you not going to tierparks and sea life parks and things that may or may not be pet stores and sending me a million photos? I AM DISAPPOINTED, my German correspondent! Right in your own CITY you have zoos and you have not visited them to tell me all about them! Oh, also, please don’t get eaten by the animals. It seems that German zoos have animals running all willy-nilly lately and that is worrisome. So if you’re walking around your happy city and you see a bear, please don’t attempt to take its photo. RUN AWAY KEN. I know, I KNOW, it would be an AMAZING PHOTO OP. You having all of your body parts would also be awesome. Don’t take photos of wild animals if you see them in your streets, Ken. I MEAN IT.

Except tortoises. You can take photos of the German tierpark tortoises if they are loose in your streets. They will not eat your face, and I know how much you like them.

OK. I’ve got to go to sleep or my head’s going to explode like a waterballoon. No one’d like that, now would they? Nope. Here’s hoping this stupid headache will be gone when I wake up tomorrow. Blergh, headache. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE.


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